#i keep wanting to ask if were still doing anything but i would actually rather die than see b so..........no thank you

[cheeseceli]

Under the mistletoe

Pairing: Yang Jeongin × Gn!reader

Genre: fluff, friends to lovers

Warnings: reader is lowkey oblivious but not really, that's it?

A/n: so this is my Christmas post 🙂‍↕️

Daily click

"Questions can be saved for later, just follow me" with that, you had absolutely no chance to talk back as he was already walking away, expecting you to actually follow him.

You were at the boys' Christmas party, celebrating the holiday with your closest friends - including Jeongin - but this specific person seemed to have other plans. Ever since he laid his eyes on you, he had been trying to get you to talk to him alone and, preferably, outside. Now, he was succeeding.

"What are we going to do on the balcony?" you asked, trying to keep up with his pace "It's freezing out there."

"I said no questions for now. Just trust me, okay?"

Once again you weren't able to respond, as he was already opening the door for you: "after you."

And so you did. Outside, it was in fact cold, snow slowly falling down. When you looked at Jeongin you expected to see him either shivering because of the weather or with a mischievous grin, that would explain the reason as to why you're far from the party. However, you notice him nervous.

That's odd.

"Jeongin? Are you okay?"

He seems to be lost in thought, his gaze nowhere near where you were, looking up instead.

"Yeah, yeah." Basically a synonym to no.

"Are we here for a reason...? You seem to be a little-"

"Oh yes, actually" he replied rather quickly, walking to the spot he was looking at before "Come here, there's something I want to show you."

You followed his lead, getting closer to the view. Though he wasn't looking ahead, so you didn't know if that was what he truly wanted to show you, you couldn't help but be awestruck. You had seen that scenario a few times before, every time you visited the boys' dorm, but never had it felt so magical.

"Is that what you wanted to show me?" You slowly look at him, your eyes not wanting to leave the beautiful sight ahead of you "it's beautiful."

"I mean, that as well." He looked up quickly, and you almost didn't realise this small gesture "but there was this other thing..."

As his voice died out, you looked above only to finally notice what this all was about:

"The mistletoe" you smiled. He was waiting for you to see it. You look at him, his eyes not exactly meeting yours just yet "What? You brought me here and aren't even going to kiss me?"

With this last statement he finally looked at you, a bit of excitement and hope shining on his eyes. Your smile didn't seem to falter anytime soon, as it was growing even more with his reaction.

"Can I?" he quietly said, afraid of doing anything that could ruin the moment.

You smile, barely believing it. You had been waiting ages for something like this: any opportunity, any moment that would give you the chance of becoming something more with Jeongin. And then he, during the holiday season, simply makes a whole plan to give you that chance.

It was adorable, to be honest. How he was so determined to bring you under the mistletoe, but still let you silently know that whatever you wanna do from now on is up to you. He's letting you choose. And no matter when, either on Christmas or on any other normal day, you would always choose him. And so you did:

"We cannot break a tradition, can we?"

Masterlist I you'll probably like: Christmas with skz

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the member actually is. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143 @sleepyleeji @jinnie-ret @sheraayasherrecs @rockstarkkami @urlocalmultigroupfan (couldn't tag in bold)

Divider by: @enchanthings-a | Images 1, 2 and 3

[wren-kitchens]

paint me in trust

2193 words

there are endless problems that etho could have foreseen if he had been told that the new game would be to link two people's souls with each other. just the premise of that sounds terrifying—what if something broke, and suddenly your souls are just- untethered from your bodies. etho doesn't know a whole lot about how souls work, but that does not sound very enjoyable. he’s still not sure how they’re meant to unlink after this whole song and dance is over, and for his own sanity, he’s decided to assume that grian has it all handled. although- etho doesn’t actually know if grian's own soul has been mixed with mumbo's this whole time. maybe he shouldn't think too hard about that.

and it only took me 5 months to write a part 2! here's part 1 :]

it's not necessarily chapters that follow immediately after one another, but these are all in the same universe, in order. I liked the idea of a slow burn esque kind of friendship between them and chapters felt like the easiest way to do it!

the sillies ever

there are endless problems that etho could have foreseen if he had been told that the new game would be to link two people's souls with each other. just the premise of that sounds terrifying—what if something broke, and suddenly your souls are just- untethered from your bodies. etho doesn't know a whole lot about how souls work, but that does not sound very enjoyable. he’s still not sure how they’re meant to unlink after this whole song and dance is over, and for his own sanity, he’s decided to assume that grian has it all handled. although- etho doesn’t actually know if grian's own soul has been mixed with mumbo's this whole time. maybe he shouldn't think too hard about that.

on top all of this existential threat, etho is quickly learning that, when you hang out with someone who you don’t really know all too well for a little while, you run out of things to say alarmingly soon. there are only so many small talk social scripts that don't sound rude when repeated more than once. after all, if you asked someone where they were from three times, you’d either look like you weren't paying attention, or very desperate. etho thinks he’s probably reached the very desperate stage. 

it's not like he doesn’t want to talk to joel, it's just- how do you keep up conversations when neither of you have anything much to say? there's so much left unsaid in the awkward remarks about the weather and laughter at jokes that finishes too soon, but there's nothing else either of them have to contribute. which is- an enormously dull problem to have in the face of soulmates and unbreakable bonds: they've run out of things to say. etho thinks he'd rather have to worry about his soul exploding, or something.

joel, it seems, has also noticed the predicament they’re both in, because his contributions to their failing conversations are a lot more out of pocket than etho ever expects. which, to be entirely honest, ends up creating far more entertaining conversations than etho's failed attempts at civility ever have. 

"okay- well, I have to ask," 

etho looks down at joel, where he's sat against the bed, on the floor. for the past half hour, he’s been idly carving what might be a wolf into the floorboards of the ship with what might be a completely different chisel than the last four etho has seen him using since joel made the ship last week. 

"go on." etho says, a little amused.

something shifts in joel's expression, and etho wonders if he was nervous to bring this up. "where'd you get the scar?"

etho hesitates, and joel visibly considers whether he should have said it or not. "it's not- I kinda-" he tilts his head to the side, as if that could kick his brain into gear and come up with a better lie than his last one. quite frankly, he has no idea why he thought scott would believe that he fought technoblade. "it's a long story." he settles on. 

joel nods. "well, I just- I was thinking we could swap stories." he shrugs, and etho gets the impression that he’s trying to disguise how much he liked the idea. "I- y’know, I have a few scars of my own. but- I don’t wanna, like- encroach." 

"it's not- you’re not encroaching." etho can’t help but smile, against his own fruition. stupid joel. "what stories do you have?"

something lights up in joel's face, and etho feels a kind of softness in his chest. not that- it's unrelated. it's probably joel's actually- which might not be much better. whatever. it's not important. "you- I mean, they're not all that interesting, but-" he pulls up his sleeve to display what looks like a wolf bite. "that's from geraldine- y’know, my dog in 3rd life. I think she got confused, right at the end. it was just before I died."

etho leans forward to have a better look, and joel moves to sit next to etho on the bed, crossing his legs. the impulse to rest his head on joel's shoulder sticks itself in the back of etho's mind, and he very purposefully looks closer at the bite.

"it's nice." joel is saying, entirely unaware. "'s like I have a part of her with me still, y’know?"

"yeah." etho nods. "I never really thought about that- you’d lose your dogs each season."

still looking at the bite, joel hums. "I try not to think about it too hard." he grins up at etho with a lot more nonchalance than etho would expect after a sentence like that. "might go insane again." he snorts a laugh, and etho is suddenly reminded of his final moments in last life. "anyway, it's your turn."

"oh- right." etho pauses, trying to recall a scar he has that isn't followed by a very dull story. "I- well, I guess I have the one you gave me." he says, and joel cackles. 

"i’d forgotten about that." he says, watching with interest as etho pulls his clothes up enough to display the scar. "oh- wow, I did a number on you, huh? sorry about that." he adds, a little sheepish.

etho grins. "there's no hard feelings. honestly- i’m still pretty impressed." he says, dropping his clothes again. "you got cleo and me in- what, maybe thirty seconds?"

joel gives a huff of laughter, glancing at his lap, and it occurs to etho that he’s embarrassed. wow, he didn’t even know that was a thing joel could be. "yeah- well, I didn’t really- yeah." he clears his throat, and there's something familiar about it that etho can't quite place. "i didn’t expect to- to win that." he grins awkwardly.

and- alright, maybe it's a little mean, but- etho doesn’t really know joel all too well. he’s just getting to know how he works! .. by intentionally trying to embarrass him. okay- in his defence, etho was fairly certain joel was impossible to embarrass, so- he’s doing science. yeah- sure, that's what he’s gonna go with. science. 

"it was very cool." etho says, as nonchalant as he can. helpfully, he does actually mean what he's saying—even if it did end up with him dead, it was pretty impressive (if terrifying) to watch. "honestly, with you as my soulmate, we're absolutely gonna win."

much to etho's delight, joel is blushing, which- he's happy because is funny. it's funny and not- there's no other reason, okay. it's just funny. "I- you- thank you. I wouldn’t-" he meets etho's eyes, and immediately frowns. "you’re doing this on purpose, aren't you?" 

"I- no, I-" even before he’s started a full sentence, etho knows he’s not gonna convince anyone. joel raises an eyebrow at him, and he immediately caves. "it- okay, I- maybe a little, but-"

joel gives an exaggerated scoff, and etho almost laughs. "I can't believe you would do such a thing, etho." he says, far more dramatically than the situation would require, but he seems to be enjoying the drama. "actually though- why?"

it's etho's turn to blush now, and joel's eyes light up with mischievous laughter the second he sees it. "it- there's not- it's unimportant. very unimportant, actually- it's just boring."

"go on." joel grins, teeth sharp. it suits him. 

etho shoots joel a glare, but he can’t pretend to be upset in the face of joel's laughter for long. "okay, I just- you’ve never been embarrassed. that- that I could see, so I kinda- I was curious. about- y’know. how far I could push it."

there's a muted kind of warmth in the centre of etho's chest, which has to be coming from joel. the man in question just smirks. "okay, well- now you have to tell me about your eye. since you were so horrible to me."

etho hesitates. "I- okay, it's not-"

"i'll tell you about this." joel says suddenly. etho looks up, and joel pulls his shirt to the side, revealing burn scarring across all the visible skin on his shoulder. "y’know- it's a trade."

"okay- for that, you get the truth." etho pulls his mask down, not really thinking about it. joel looks a little taken aback, and it occurs to etho that joel has never seen his face before. maybe it should feel more uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. "so- I never tell anyone how I actually got it, except like- cleo and bdubs."

joel blinks, and the warm thing in etho's chest grows a little. "I- wow, i’m up there with cleo?" 

"you- well, you’re my soulmate, right?" etho says without thinking. before he or joel has time to dwell on whatever that means, he says hurriedly, "it- everyone always assumes it's some huge traumatic thing, or like- a cool fight, or whatever, but. I- yeah, I literally just tripped. I was- I managed to land directly on the corner of my furnace." he gives a huff of a laugh. 

"that- you're such a nerd, etho." joel smirks, still looking somewhat stunned. he looks pleased too though, so maybe it's a good thing. "you- and no one else knows?" 

"well," etho pulls his mask back up. "now one more person knows." he finds himself smiling at the thought.

"okay, well- hang on." joel pulls his shirt over his head, revealing far more scarring than etho expected to see. the long sleeves of joel's shirt were the only things hiding it. "i’ve got them on my legs too, but i’m not taking my trousers off." he grins. 

"I- how did you get all that?" etho leans closer, pushing his hair out of his eyes to see better. 

"you remember when cleo set my house on fire in 3rd life?" joel says, looking far happier about this story than etho thinks he ought to be. or- maybe he’s just happy to tell the story to someone. etho decides not to think too hard about it. "well, I also set on fire." he grins. "they're also from that game tango made for those diamond boots."

etho winces sympathetically. "does- does it still hurt?" he asks, surprising himself with how nervous he is. 

joel hums, running a hand over the puckered skin absentmindedly. "not really. I mean, you should know." he looks up, grinning. "soulmate and everything. it's just- it aches a little when I respawn, but.. not much." 

before etho has time to think about what he’s asking, he reaches out a hand on instinct and glances at joel. "I- can I?"

"oh- yeah. yeah, I don't- I don’t mind." joel blinks, apparently surprised. etho is hit with a wave of embarrassment, but- well, it'd be a bit awkward to back out now, wouldn’t it?

the skin is surprisingly soft underneath etho's fingers, despite how textured it is from the scarring. it's interesting- etho has accumulated several scars over the years, but he’s never seen something so large as joel's. it's kind of cool. 

joel gives a huff of a laugh, and etho looks up to see him grinning. "didn’t think it'd be that interesting." 

etho shrugs, suddenly embarrassed but not wanting to back down. "it's pretty interesting." he says, and he can’t help smiling a little as he sits back again. "like- battle scars, or something. it's a cooler story than mine." he gestures at his eye and joel cackles. 

"you said I got the 'truth'," joel says, pulling his shirt back on. "does that mean you’ve been lying to people about what happened?" 

"I- well. a little?" etho says, awkward all of a sudden, and joel grins at it. "it- I just- it's not a good story, and I kinda- it adds to the mystery if no one knows."

joel nudges him, apparently entertained—or something similar, at least. "what have you told people?"

etho glances at the wall. "I- well, I told scar I fought herobrine-" he’s very rudely interrupted by joel's laughter, apparently overjoyed to learn this about his soulmate. "it- he believed it! that's not- I can’t be blamed if he believed that."

"I did think you were mysterious at one point." joel grins, and there's a kind of comfortable amusement in his expression. it's nice. 

"what- you don’t anymore?" etho pouts, and joel cackles at it. he can’t help feeling proud of how good he is at making joel laugh. 

"not now- you told scar you fought herobrine." joel says, and etho huffs a laugh. "you’re just- you’re a dork, etho."

etho pretends to be offended, and joel cackles at all the right moments, and frankly, etho's mask is the only thing preventing him from looking even more like a dork (in joel's words- he’s not a dork, for the record) as he can’t stop himself grinning along. it's weird, but etho keeps ending up being thankful for joel's bluntness or his loudness or his ability to take up so much space in conversation when it comes to these sorts of moments- all of which he used to find annoying last season. maybe it's the soulbound being weird. 

maybe he just likes the way the ship fills with laughter whenever they talk. 

[changingplumbob]

CW: Low level sim spice, language - Guide to content warnings

Sun poured in the windows and on to the bed. Glenn loved being outside but a nice sun ray inside could be good to. While he was playing absentmindedly with a tennis ball Silver lay beside him scribbling away.

They had officially been courting for a year and while Glenn thought asking Silver to get a place of their own would result in a great woohoo session it had instead resulted in the werewolf deciding to make a pros and cons list about every single neighbourhood he'd ever visited.

That left Glenn horny and bored, not a great combo.

Glenn: Are you done yet

Silver: If by done you mean all the places that start with A then yes

Glenn: You can't have actually been to that many places

Silver: I'm ancient remember, I've been lots of places

Glenn: True. It must be a lot when you're 207

Silver: I wouldn't know because I'm not 207

Glenn: *sighs* But I want to fuck

Silver: And I want to make sure we don't move somewhere in hunter territory. Which of those things is more important

Glenn: Definitely my pixel parts

Silver: I thought you were practicing making the ball hover

Glenn: I was like... three hours ago

Silver: *smirking* Dramatic much Babycakes

Glenn: You know you like me dramatic

Silver: I do but I'm trying to focus on our future

Glenn: All I need is you, four walls, a roof and a dragon

Silver: Excuse me?

Glenn: I could be argued down to three walls

Silver: I meant the dragon

Glenn: Oh. Would you not want a dragon

Silver: Can't say I've ever seen a dragon. Kind of thought they were a myth

Glenn: Says the werewolf who is in love with a spellcaster

Silver: If they are real something tells me they don't make great house pets

Glenn: I mean yeah, the bigger ones couldn't even get inside a house

Silver: See

Glenn: But there are smaller ones

Silver: How does one get a dragon? They're not trafficked are they

Glenn: I mean magical creatures sometimes are but there are legitimate channels for the domesticated ones

Silver: If you tell me there's a dragon rescue down the road-

Glenn: Not down the road but- Would you let me have a dragon

Silver: Not in our bedroom

Glenn: So that's a maybe for in the house

Silver: I don't know. How are they with kids

Glenn: Some breeds are great, super protective of them

Silver: Okay well what I don't need is one breathing fire at me if I tell a kid off for making a mess

Glenn: No I know, I wouldn't let you get burned Beefcake

Silver: I can't get burned

Glenn: That's what I'm saying

Silver: Yes and I'm saying werewolves can't get burned. My clothes could get incinerated but not me

Glenn: Wait really

Silver: I mean technically I could get burned with wolfsbane but I couldn't be set on fire or anything

Glenn: Damn, wish that was the case for spellcasters

Silver: You are rather delicate

Glenn: Just like my flowers. Are you done now?

Silver: Is it Brind- e- l - ton or Brind -l - e - ton?

Glenn: We are not moving there are we

Silver: Don't know, haven't done the pros and cons list yet because someone keeps distracting me

Glenn: With my good looks

Silver: With your big mouth

Glenn: Hey! My big mouth happens to be of great use to you

Silver: Only when you've spent the day being a brat

Glenn: Well we need to be somewhere where we can adopt a kid

Silver: You say that as if I don't know

Glenn: Do you want a spellcaster or a werewolf

Silver: I don't know. I mean I do miss seeing the young wolves in the pack

Glenn: Do baby werewolves like chew on the furniture

Silver: What are you doing to my hair

Glenn: Nothing, just hold still. Going to answer my question?

Silver: Don't all kids destroy furniture in one way or another

Glenn: True but I mean there's accidentally starting fires then there's teeth marks

Silver: Baby spellcasters start fires?

Glenn: I mean when we're young we kind of have access to a bunch of powers we don't know how to use so stuff can happen that we don't know how to undo

Silver: Don't know how to undo? Such as?

Glenn: Well my trademark green hair? Not intentional

Silver: Bullshit, you're trying to mess with me

Glenn: Because I want your attention

Silver: But wouldn't my attention be so much better in a house of our own

Glenn: Fair. Okay hold still I'm going to get a picture

Silver sighed and tipped his head forward so the ball fell off and rolled away on the floor.

Glenn: Aww, you looked cute

Silver: Don't I always

Glenn: Nah. You're the hot rugged sexy one and I'm the squishy cute one. Well, squishy cute with abs

Previous ... Next

[prolix-yuy]

Ah, but it's cold outside

Pairing: Modern!Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Summary: If you could throw Pero Tovar out of your bed and breakfast you would, but something more than your constant bickering keeps him darkening your door.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, fingering, PiV sex, consenting unprotected sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), cumming inside, allusions to oral sex (f receiving), Pero Tovar is Uncircumcised, pain kink, exhibitionism, slight degradation kink, enemies to lovers as self-actualization? We love to see it.

Notes: Happy Holidays @221bshrlocked! I am your not-so-Secret Santa for @pedrostories Secret Santa event! I love love LOVED your prompts and had to give you as many as I could possibly jam into one fic. Plus it's been a while since I've written Pero and I need that grumpy man to get his ass handed to him every now and then. I hope you enjoy!

With the wind howling outside and the lights flickering dangerously, the last person you want to see on your front steps is Pero Tovar. But you barely have time to register the dark-haired pain in your ass before he’s pushing past you and into the warm haven of your bed and breakfast.

“I wasn’t expecting you for another week,” you call over your shoulder, closing the door against the freezing air. Even when the latch clicks the force of the gusts still rattles the door. 

“I wasn’t expecting a warm welcome,” he huffs, swatting snow off his wool jacket to puddle on the floor. Rolling your eyes, you stalk into the kitchen for towels. 

“It’s late, what do you want?” you call from the other room, unable to stop yourself from twisting your mouth into a pretty fair imitation of Pero’s scowl. You’d just turned off all the lights, only the twinkling glows of Christmas decorations still lighting the main floor. 

“The road’s snowed out, I can’t see shit. I debated on whether it would be easier on my nerves to keep going or stop here.” He waves at your exasperated face when he catches the towel you toss. “I haven’t decided yet.”

The telltale frustration rises in your throat, and you swallow it down. “I don’t have any rooms, everyone’s hiding out from the storm.” Busying yourself with the late-night tasks you know by heart, Pero thumps along behind you.

“Believe me, I would rather be in my own bed than your ‘charming’ ones, but I am out of options. Anything. A couch. It’s too cold to sleep in the truck.”

There it is again, that seething annoyance climbing up your spine. You take in a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before gesturing at the common room.

“The couch is the best I can do.”

Before you’re done speaking he’s striding in, shucking off his jacket to drape over a chair before kneeling by the dying fire. You’re about to scold him for kicking it back to life but if the power does fail the heat will be welcome. 

“I have to finish closing up, yell if you need something,” you add, his dismissive wave meeting your mocking wave back. The scrunch in your shoulders eases partway through the mess of dishes you’re washing, thankful that the silence of late nights is still yours even with the eerie howls and creaks of the storm surrounding you.

Yours and Pero’s relationship was barely that, if anyone asked. When he first came to town you were elated that a carpenter-handyman type was finally local. You had so many projects half-finished or begging to start in your bed and breakfast, a cozy Tudor-style house you bought at the peak of another career crisis. Thankfully this choice was a revelation, even with the tremendous undertaking. The pipes were of indeterminate age and prone to cracks, the noise of the radiators a heart-pounding alarm clock. The unpleasant odors of past smokers and bad cooks hung heavy everywhere you turned, but paint and YouTube videos and determination brought it up to a standard you were proud of. However, you didn’t want to know what electrocution feels like, or be chummy with the scent of carbon monoxide, so after a proper number of niceties and crossed paths you invited Pero over. 

The first day he darkened your door, you felt something wildly different than his entrance this evening. He was dark haired, roguish in an unfamiliar way. Simply dressed in jeans and a canvas jacket over a black t-shirt, his frame tugged against mouthwatering places you tried not to stare at. He was polite, wiping his feet at the door and setting his toolbox down gently. His accented voice was deep, sonorous, goddamn sexy. You had to focus on showing him the finicky electrical box and the concerning gas hookup in the kitchen to stop your mind from wandering to steamy romance novel plots. 

Then he started speaking, and it all went to hell. 

“You should take down the curtains too,” he hummed, the cadence almost masking the disdain before your brain snapped to attention.

“The…curtains? Are they a fire hazard?”

“No, they are ugly.”

Heat flooded your face, your teeth clacking together as you whipped to look at Pero. His face is the picture of disgust, and when he meets your eyes there isn’t a hint of embarrassment in them. “Did they come with the place?”

“No, they fit the aesthetic.”

“This is an aesthetic?”

You raised your eyebrows, hands on your hips but he didn’t back down one bit. He kept talking.

“I thought the furniture was from the previous owner. Cheaper, you know. You like it?” He looks around as if someone would back him up, but you just fold your arms.

“People don’t come to a bed and breakfast because it’s modern, they come because it’s quaint and charming and…”

“...cheaper than the Marriott…”

“And how would you do it then? Design the space for me, oh wise one.”

“Not how my grandmother would do it.”

Pero did not get your business that day.

Embarrassingly enough, he did get it three weeks later when your gas line started leaking. He critiqued how many mouse droppings were behind the stove and recommended an exterminator. You almost threw him out.

So if anyone asks, you and Pero do not have a relationship. You have a business agreement, at best. A begrudging one. He comes when you call - not quickly, of course, and it feels like a personal slight even when he insists he has many clients - and you pay him after haggling over the cost of the pipe or how long he actually worked for (he has a tendency to charge for his hour-long lunch breaks). He makes his snide little comments and you spit a retort back, and sometimes you swear you catch him smirking to himself after you deliver something especially sharp. 

As you dry your hands, you dwell maybe a few minutes too long on this. You’d never admit it in earshot of his big head, but there’s something incredibly freeing about talking to Pero. Sure, he criticizes and complains about anything he comes within five feet of, but he’s never cruel to you. He never speaks down to you, or makes you feel inferior because you don’t know something. Most of the time he explains what he’s doing so you can do it yourself, with only a few jabs thrown in for flavor. No contractor has ever treated you as capable before. Most try to talk over your or around the topic, and you have to smile and gently redirect them to understand that yes, you are aware of what an impact driver is and no, you think drywall screws would be overkill to reattach that molding. You’d rather snark at Pero all day then have one of those pillow-scream-worthy conversations again.

Shaking off the retrospection, you take a plate of leftover roast chicken and potatoes into the common room. Pero, as you expected, has stoked the fire into an almost concerning blaze but the warmth is welcome. He’s settling back into the well-worn couch and scrolling on his phone as you plop the plate on his lap. Your knuckles graze the top of his thigh when you withdraw, a nervous tingle dancing through your stomach.

What the hell was that about? It’s Pero, for fuck’s sake.

“Eat,” you order, rounding the couch to drop into the open space. If there’s one order Pero will never argue about it’s to eat, which he does with gusto and a nod in your direction. The crackle of the fire covers the ravenous chewing - even barely hungry he eats like a man starved - as you let your body relax into the cushions. All the guests are tucked away, breakfast is prepped and ready, and the silence is welcome. Unfortunately, it’s short-lived.

“I did not think you would be fully booked. I wouldn’t have bothered stopping by.”

It’s too late and you’re too tired to deal with this bullshit right now. You press the heels of your hands to your eyes.

“And why would you think that Pero? Because somehow I could never run a business this well?”

“That’s not…”

“Or am I not paying you enough? Are we about to have a heart to heart over hourly rates?”

“I am not…”

“Then fucking out with it then! If you hate being here, being around me so much, then just tell me why so I can stop trying to give a shit about it.”

The silence that follows pulls your hands from your eyes, and where you thought Pero would be glaring at you he’s…confused. Which is…also confusing.

“I thought this was fun,” he says, voice softening to a rumble that loses its edges in the fire. “The, you know, the back and forth.” He studies his hands, blunt thumbnail dragging along a knuckle. “Most people defer to me because I’m…” Gesturing at himself, what could be a brag instead is dripping with annoyance. “The men pretend to be in league with me, and the women laugh at everything I say. It’s so…boring.”

You’re frozen in place, brows knit as you let him speak, a tingle rising up the back of your neck and flooding your fingertips.

“Any bullshit that entertains me, I can do with them. But not with you.” He can’t meet your eyes, instead staring into the fire that paints the planes of his face in luscious amber. “You never let me get away with shit. I like that. I thought you liked that too. You always seemed to get…brighter when we were…” His hands come up and make little quibbling mouths, finally looking at you. 

Have you ever seen his gaze so bare before?

“I’m sorry, I misunderstood.”

Inside your body, a mounting wave of understanding and excitement fills your limbs. No one has ever praised your fire, your brightness, only wanting to tamp it down into something manageable and palatable. Now before you is a man who not only revels in it, but encourages it? You’ve never felt this thrum of excitement before, like holding a tuning fork against your sternum. 

“You did,” you say, the strength of your voice surprising. Rising to stand, Pero’s chin tilts, a supplicant before you. “Because if you had given me even an inkling of an idea that this was foreplay, I wouldn’t have held back.”

Much like your own revelation, you can see your words change Pero. His brow smooths before arching in tandem with his growing smirk. Hands coming down to grasp the seat cushion, his veins bulge against the creak of upholstery. He tilts his chin to you with shrinking obedience. 

“Then I am very interested in seeing you at your worst.” 

The words drive you to clench. This is dangerous new territory, but nothing could hold you back from striding headfirst into it. Two swaying steps place you in front of Pero, his knees widening to stand between. The new angle makes him lean back, exposing the tantalizing length of his neck dotted with delicate freckles. 

“I don’t know, Pero, you may not deserve that honor.” A giggle rises in your throat, letting yourself enjoy your new-found freedom. Saying exactly what’s on your mind without the nagging fear of being too much. By Pero’s expression, he’s enjoying it too. You wind up another retort, but his next words steal your breath. 

“Are you wet right now?” he says, tongue slipping out to lick at his lower lip. The crude statement slams heat into your face, and suddenly your hand is in the air and headed for Pero’s stubbly cheek. 

“Ah!” he scolds, catching your wrist firmly before you make contact. Your brain barely has time to register you were going to smack him! when he yanks you closer, catching yourself on the back of the couch.

“I knew you were sharp in many more ways,” he gloats, and you can’t decide if you want to try wiping that smirk off his face with your palm or your mouth. “I’ll ask again - are you wet right now?”

This is the precipice of desire and level thinking, your toes on the edge. Strong voices shout that this is crazy, foolish, ill-advised. You feel too good to pay them mind.

“Why don’t you find out?”

Hunger roars in Pero’s eyes but his movements are slow, steady as he helps you straighten to standing. The fire licks at your back, but his hands finding the waist of your jeans are scorching. Eyes flick up to you as he pops the button loose, thick fingers grasping the small zip to open it tooth by tooth. The challenge is to let him take his time, and you’re up for it. By the generous tenting in his pants he’s affected too. 

“What will I find if I take these off? Pretty little panties? Something lace? Nothing at all?” he husks, toying with the plaquet as he purposefully doesn’t look. 

“I think my previous answer still stands,” you retort, and your boldness earns you a rakish smile while Pero rolls your jeans down. The darkness of night shrouds your form, but anyone stumbling in could find you like this. Something tells you Pero likes it better that way.

“Perfect,” he whispers, and his hot breath ghosting over your mound raises goosebumps. 

“At this rate it’ll be morning before…” you tease, lips forming around a smile, but that morphs into a choked exhale when Pero deftly pulls aside your panties and slides his thumb over your clit. Your hands come to his shoulders, digging in as he traces an experimental circle. 

“I knew you were dripping,” Pero purrs, and words fail as two fingers slide through your folds to press at your entrance. “I want to fuck you on my fingers, is that amenable to the lady?” 

Staccato laughter punctuates your “yes” before he presses in, those hands you’d marveled at fitting into the hot clutch of your cunt just shy of painful. Then he curls them and you can’t stop the high-pitched whine that whistles out. 

“Just needed something to scratch that itch, hm? Needed a little finger fucking to relax?” he says, and even with your body responding beautifully to his slick rhythm you can’t let that go. One hand twists into his hair, wrapping locks around your fingers before squeezing. 

Like an electric shock Pero’s body locks up, mouth falling open and his hips undulating more than you expected. You tut at him, superiority flooding your brain even as your pussy drenches his hand.

“Tattling on yourself, Pero. Let your mouth run just a little and I’ll learn all your secrets.” His fingers redouble their efforts, thumb sliding over your clit as he coaxes your orgasm to the surface, but now his head is in your hands, nails digging into his scalp as he fights against succumbing to the pricks of pain.

“Devil woman,” he hisses with no fire. “Tell me what you want - fuck, you’re so fucking wet - tell me what you want to make you cum.”

Your mind races with possibilities - your slick smeared on Pero’s beard, his hands wrapped around your headboard, what his lips would feel like - but the mounting need in your chest is to be filled. 

“I want to fuck you. Right here.”

Pero curses colorfully, fumbling at his belt. You ease his hand from your pussy, the ache of the loss a yawning chasm but he needs both to yank off his jeans and boxers. Pulling your shirt over your head and unclasping your bra, you’re nude and silhouetted by the dying fire. Pero is struggling with his shirt when he glances up at you, stunned into stillness. 

“Mierda,” he whispers. It’s said like a prayer, and at this moment you know why worship is addictive. Pero’s reverent gaze is a stronger aphrodisiac than any oyster could hope to be. He comes back to himself enough to yank the shirt over his head, revealing dark chest hair leading down to a healthy mess of curls surrounding his flushing cock. He fists it, sliding the foreskin down to reveal the deep purpling head slick with precum. Cocking your hip, you fake a loud sigh.

“Fine, I guess you have a big enough dick to act the way you do,” you observe, diffusing the weighty moment enough for Pero to scoff and smile. It’s new on his face, his scowl so everpresent, that you bask in it briefly. 

“Come sit on my lap,” he implores, reaching out to take your hand. After all the sparring, the gentleness puts you off-kilter, unused to being allowed both. 

“What are you, Santa?” you ask, straddling him and settling on his thighs as he rolls his eyes.

“Are you trying to make me lose this? Is it a little too intimidating for all your big talk?” Pero teases, stroking his definitely still very hard cock before tapping the head against your mound. 

“Don’t worry, I know how to get it back if you do,” you quip, dragging your fingernails lightly down his chest before he can retort. He reacts exactly how you’d hoped, muscles clenching and a bead of precum dribbling from his tip. “Do you like it when I make it hurt just a little bit?”

“Yes,” he groans, unashamed, unselfconscious, and your cunt throbs. “You can make it hurt more,” he says, eyes widening suddenly as you see him realize he said that out loud. Sliding closer to hover over his proud cock, you take another sweat-damp handful of hair and squeeze. His groans are growing in volume but you can’t bring yourself to care. You can blame it on the storm in the morning. 

“I’ll let you have anything you want if you’re a good boy for me.”

The whine he’s clearly embarrassed to have let out is cut off by a sudden inhale.

“Wait,” he gasps, hands digging into your hips to hold you above his cock. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on birth control,” you interject, “and I haven’t slept with anyone in…like, eight months.”

Pero’s hands knead into your flesh, eyes searching your face.

“I’ll pull out.”

You don’t even think about it.

“Don’t you dare.”

If what you saw was hunger before, what’s in Pero’s expression now is ravenous. His lips curl back into a snarl, eyes deep and dark. Suddenly his fingers are inside you, scissoring you open roughly as you pant into his ear. 

“Tell me to slow down,” he growls, but you shake your head. “Tell me…when I need to.”

“I need you, Pero, please, now.”

No longer holding you still, Pero’s hands guide you down onto his cock. The moment his head breaches a whole body shiver races through.

“Are you…”

“Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

He fills you until he’s in your guts, your lungs, surrounding you with his arms and his thighs below. The splay of his hands on your back makes you dizzy, head buzzy with hormones and his musk and every place he’s touching you in a symphony of pleasure. Faintly you realize he’s saying something, lips moving against your shoulder.

“Pero?”

“Can I kiss you?”

A few drops of clarity sharpen the mush in your brain.

“You’re inside of me and we forgot to kiss.”

Pero’s chest hitches once, then again, then the both of you are moving out of sync as hiccupy laughter overtakes you. He pants when you clench around him, trying to catch his breath until you both come back to your senses. 

“I was enjoying what you were saying too much,” he admits, leaning back against the couch. His face is shadowed but you catch the glint of his eyes, the wetness of his plush lips. How had you resisted them this long?

Pero beats you to initiate, pulling you down to press a kiss to your lips. It’s soft and chaste, his hands cupping your head as you part. But you beat him to return the kiss, pressing him into the couch with a deeper kiss, barely waiting for him to react before urging his lips open. He hums greedily into your mouth, letting you explore with your tongue before he fills you with his. It’s not long before his mouth is frantic, gripping your hips as he makes an experimental thrust into your cunt that breaks your lips apart.

“Pero, fuck,” you gasp, nails digging into his back as he thrusts up deep and smooth. You meet his pace, rolling your hips to grind your clit against him. Fighting for dominance, you finally push him back and ride him in earnest, lifting up over and over again to slam his cock into your cunt. He’s mesmerized by how your tits bounce, taking one in his palm to knead to tease your nipple as your orgasm creeps up your spine. 

“Fuck, Pero, you feel so good,” you moan, slowing to grind down, the friction of his pubic hair on your clit giving you the edge to pull your climax close. 

“You feel amazing on my cock. Are you close?”

“Yes,” you pant, using every inch of Pero to find that moment of bliss. “Fuck, yes Pero, I want to cum on you. Want to feel you inside.” It’s right there, you’re at the brink of tipping over.

“Fuck, yes, oh fuck, say my name like that. Say it when you’re cumming.”

Your nerves sing and your body pulses to the beat of Pero, Pero, Pero rasping from your lips. He’s growling something you wish you could understand but the blood is pumping too loudly in your ears. The only thing you register is the couch against your back as Pero flips you. He’s pressed long against your body, hips snapping into your cunt even as you’re so tight around him. 

“...beautiful, you’re so beautiful, can’t stop…” you faintly hear as the sensations of Pero’s hands roaming your body, his humid mouth at your neck, and the wet slap of his cock bring you back to your body. His thrusts are becoming erratic, right on the cusp of his own orgasm, when you dig your nails into his back and rake them down his spine. 

Pero’s orgasmic bellow is muffled in your neck as the throb of his cock empties inside you. You offer little scratches up and down his arms and shoulders as he comes down, hips pressing in deeper as he lets out satisfied groans. Finally he slumps, head resting on your chest as he catches his breath. 

The silence is back, the dimming fire combating the dark. This was by far the best fuck you’d had in ages, and in no small part due to the freedom to just be. But when the sun rises - hell, when the post-orgasmic haze lifts - what will this even look like?

Pero sighs and lifts up on his hands, easing his cock out before softly swearing and grabbing his shirt to wipe away the cum dripping out of you. 

“I might recommend getting this couch cleaned,” he muses, sitting up on his knees to look down at your loose-limbed body with a lopsided grin. 

“I don’t think we’re the first ones to do that on this particular piece of furniture,” you joke, enjoying the wrinkle of disgust on Pero’s face. 

“Then I definitely recommend a shower. And request a bedsheet.”

The statement is unassuming in a way that you needed. Yes, this is new and strange, but you’ve always embraced both. 

“You know, there is still one bed left in this bed and breakfast.”

Pero’s head perks up.

“The only problem is that it’s mine.”

A roguish smile dimples Pero’s cheek as he hovers over you.

“And what must I do to share it with you?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

END

"I ought to say, "No, no, no sir" Mind if I move in closer? At least I'm gonna say that I tried What's the sense in hurting my pride? I really can't stay Baby, don't hold out Baby, it's cold outside."

[cinnamon-bunni]

hi hello! i participated in the @obeymeholidayexchange, to which i got the chance to write something for @sheepthatgobaa! the prompt that i had used was "solomon, luke, and simeon shopping together", and so i hope i did the prompt justice!!! and i hope you enjoy it, kelo!!! <3

word count: 1.5k

Simeon hadn't moved from his spot for a handful of minutes, now. He stood there, staring at the wall of boxed cereal, as other patrons walked around him. There's then a distinct sound of footsteps against the flooring, stopping at Simeon's side.

"You're still here?" Solomon asked. "I thought you would've moved on by now."

Simeon frowned, eyeing the three, four, five different brands in front of him, all the boxes decorated in different brightly colored mascots. "I'm not sure which to get. Why are there so many different options for the same flavors...?"

"I'm sure Luke won't mind what you get," Solomon said with a shrug. "I have a feeling he'd rather have a proper breakfast in the morning, anyway. I'll probably be the only one actually eating it." He then stepped forward and plucked one of the boxes off of the shelf. He shot Simeon a grin. "It's actually been forever since I've had cereal like this. I wonder if it tastes the same or not..."

Simeon knew Solomon had a point; he doubted Luke would want any of this besides having home-made pancakes or french toast. It did seem something Solomon would snack on throughout the day, especially when he got caught up with his studies and didn't eat as much as he needed to. Maybe Luke would like it as some sort of midday snack, too.

Speaking of... 

"Wasn't Luke with you?" Simeon asked. 

Solomon, who had grabbed another box and was comparing the two in each of his hands, said absent-mindedly, "Oh, I sent him to grab the fruits for us. Figured it'd be faster if we sent him to grab a few things for us, since you keep getting distracted by things in here."

Simeon flushed at the sorcerer's teasing tone. "I've never been in a human grocery store before," he defended, "and everything's so different here compared to the Celestial Realm. Even the Devildom's shops are different."

The produce and items sold in the Devildom was something Simeon was still getting used to. It would take a bit of time, but he was trying his best and then some, because Luke was having a hard time adjusting to their new transfer student lifestyle, whether the younger angel wanted to admit it or not. He struggled eating anything he didn't recognize, and was deeply uncomfortable with the dangerous ingredients that were used in demon cuisine. Solomon had been the one to suggest a trip to the Human Realm for a food run, to hopefully find things that Luke would like.

Based on how Luke's eyes had lit up when they first entered, clearly excited by things all around him but didn't want to say, Simeon would say that Solomon's idea was a major success.

"I suppose I should find him, make sure he's safe," Simeon said. "Do you mind watching the cart for me?" The cart, which was filled with a mix of ingredients for dinners and desserts, as well as knick-knacks and miscellaneous pieces that had caught Simeon's eyes. They hadn't even gotten their fruits or vegetables yet. He would have to make room.

"Of course," Solomon said with a wave of his hand, almost hitting someone with the box in his hand. His eyes were still glued on the other cereal box he held. "You go make sure Luke is following the list. I'll...be here. For a bit. Might need his opinion on this, anyway."

Simeon doubted Luke would have any sort of opinion on cereal, but he kept it in mind to ask. The produce section of the store really wasn't that far from the aisle Simeon had been in, but from every stop he took to inspect something that looked interesting, one would think it was across the whole building. By the time Simeon got there, noticing Luke's hat from the crowd of people that were shopping, he had three boxes of ice pops that piqued his interest based on the flavors alone.

"Luke! Come see what I got!"

To be fair, Simeon probably shouldn't have shouted; he winced in apology as people around him shot dirty looks, and felt bad when he saw Luke startle. The boy had been on his tiptoes in order to see the whole display of apples, all piled on top of another. The surprised look on his face changed when he met Simeon's eyes; cheeks puffed out, and in spite of the mesh bag of oranges he held, crossed his arms. He was trying to replicate the look that Michael often had when he caught any angels slacking off; while a chilling look on the older angel, it just looked plain adorable on Luke.

"Simeon, don't scare me like that!" he chided. Simeon gave an apologetic smile; in place of teasing Luke for his cute mannerisms, he held up the boxes.

"Which one do you want?" Simeon asked. He'd rather not get all of them, if he could help it. He and Solomon both agreed to a budget before entering, and Simeon would rather not go over it, if it could be helped.

Luke frowned, arms uncrossed.

"Oh. I like the look of the watermelon one." Simeon hummed as he faced the boxes back toward himself. "I agree. Isn't it cute that they made it look like an actual watermelon with the colors? And the seeds are pieces of chocolate."

There was a glimmer in Luke's eyes. "We should get that, then," he said with finality.

"I'll put the others back," Simeon said. "What were you up to?"

"Oh." Luke looked back up at the apple display. "I was trying to figure out which ones I wanted to get. There's a lot of different types, I wasn't sure which we would want."

"Let me see." Simeon approached the apples, grabbing one to inspect. The little sticker on it labeled the large apple as a honey crisp, with the rest of the same having to share the display space with the fuji apples. "Do you have a plastic bag?"

"Right here!" Luke dutifully handed one to Simeon. He thanked the younger angel for his helpfulness, and placed an apple in it.

"We'll only get a few," he said as he inspected another, "to see if we like it."

"Maybe we can make something with it," Luke commented, picking up an apple of his own to look over. "Maybe not for baking, we'd need the green ones for that, wouldn't we?" Simeon hummed in acknowledgement as Luke added his apple into the bag. "But maybe we could make some cider out of it?"

"I think certain apples are better than others for that sort of thing," he commented, "but maybe we could look into it when we get back."

Luke beamed at that, nodding enthusiastically. Simeon couldn't help but match the smile as he picked out the final apple.

"Do you mean that?" Luke asked eventually. The pair had wandered over to the stand of pears not too far off. "We can come back here again sometime?"

"Of course!" Simeon answered, "I don't see why not."

"I didn't know if this was a one time thing or not," Luke explained. "To be honest, I was kinda nervous coming here...but this shop is so much better than the ones in Devildom!"

"I'm glad you think so," Simeon chuckled. "And I'm sure no one will mind if we pop by here from time-to-time in order to buy a few things. Diavolo seems pretty lenient on this sort of thing; I'm sure that as long as we stay on top of our studies, he wouldn't mind."

Luke nodded at that, and stayed silent.

"You know, Solomon mentioned that he needed your opinion on something, if you want to go find him. I can take over the fruit and produce section." Luke's mouth twisted into a frown, causing Simeon to mirror the expression. "Unless you don't want to...?"

"Um-" Luke shifted his weight between his feet. "I was hoping to stay with you, for now. I can help carry all the bags! And there's not much more on the list, I can help get the rest!"

"Oh, alright," Simeon said, his smile never lessening. "Though, you do know you'll have to get used to Solomon one of these days, right? We live with him now; it's not like he's going to bite if you get too close."

Luke's face flushed. "I know! I'm perfectly fine with being around him--he's a little weird, but it's not like he's a demon! I mean, I might've been a bit afraid of him at first, but he's been nice." His face then scrunched up. "Even though his food is..."

Simeon laughed. "Inedible?" he supplied.

"I think it goes past just inedible..."

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to make sure that we're the ones to cook all our meals, won't we?"

"Right."

"Now then, I think we have enough pears for now. What's next on the list?"

The pair go down together, grabbing one item and the next. It ended being Solomon finding them instead, catching up with them with the cart. Simeon smiled at the sight of three added cereal boxes, but didn't say anything. He watched with amusement as the sorcerer asked for Luke's opinion on all of them, insisting that the young angel would enjoy the pebble-shaped chocolate ones.

"We could just get the other ones next time, Solomon," Simeon advised. He saw Solomon pause at that, just for a second, before smiling himself.

"Of course," he said. "Next time."

[our-lady-of-mcr]

.

[letoasai]

The Youngest Ancient

An idea where the JL has gotten word from Green Lantern that a planet has been destroyed. That threat is headed for Earth. 

We could blame it on Darkseid despite the fact that i don’t actually know if that’s within his power set. Bad guy of your choice. Keeping it vague works too. 

Danny finding out that one of his planets is gone and he’s not having it. 

~~

They were short on time. Monumentally short on time. Usually everyone would look to Batman in a situation like this. It wasn’t like his numerous contingency plans were a secret. The problem was time and an overall lack of information about the coming threat. All that was clear was the fact that Earth was in danger. 

Not even a normal, run of the mill danger, but the planet bleeding out of existence kind of danger. Supposedly it could happen so fast that the citizens of Earth wouldn’t even know it had happened. 

“There’s always begging an Ancient for help.” Constantine muttered, lighting another cigarette. As many members of the League as possible had gathered but brainstorming could only get them so far. 

Multiple gazes snapped to him but it was Wonder Woman who spoke first. “You think petitioning the gods would be a wise course of action?” 

“Could be the only course of action.” Flash muttered though no one looked happy about it. 

“Nah, it’s a much crazier idea than that.” Constantine said flatly. “We’re not talking about any of those old hats we’re used to dealing with. I mean an Ancient. Their powers are next level stuff. Above the gods on the totem pole, if you will.” 

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “You want to bring in a complete unknown.” 

“I want the planet to fucking be in the same spot tomorrow, mate.” Constantine snapped back. They were out of time but he evidently had more practice at being reckless then the rest of the League. “Heard tales of a new baby Ancient. A likable kid that has many of the heavy hitters doting on `em. Word is the baby Ancient is rather agreeable. Makes deals. Likes to explore. That kind of thing.” 

“Baby Ancient.” Superman repeated, clearly hearing the oxymoron in that title. “How does that work?”

“Well they gotta come from somewhere, don’t they?” Constantine shrugged. He didn’t know and he wasn’t going to ask. 

“I’ve heard the same rumors.” Zatanna heaved a sigh, adding credence to Constantine’s claims. “Even if they can’t do anything themself, they might have enough pull with one of the other Ancients that can.” 

Flash clucked his tongue. “We literally have everything to lose if we don’t do something. If no one else has any other ideas then we need to give it a shot.” 

“How long do you need to prepare?” Batman asked, his frown obvious. He never fully liked ideas that he didn’t have a hand in.

Constantine sat up straighter, taking a pull from his cigarette and already looking exhausted. “Gimme an hour.” 

“I’ll help.” Zatanna said, already standing. 

“Forty minutes then.” 

~

The light of the summoning circle was hard to look at. It was like a mini supernova right in front of them. The colors would have been amazing to look at if anyone could have opened their eyes to see it. 

When it dimmed, leaving only a toxic looking green glow around the circle, a young boy floated in the center. His hair was white and flowed even in the tightly air controlled Watch tower. The freckles across his face seemed to glow just like his green eyes. 

He was cute, and couldn't have been more than fifteen. He wore a skintight black suit, calf high white boots, and had a strange looking thermos hanging off his belt. So this was a baby Ancient. He looked utterly perplexed. 

“Um…” He blinked, taking in every member of the Justice League slowly.

“Welcome to the Justice League Watch Tower.” Wonder Woman said, ever the diplomat. “We apologize for summoning you on such short notice.” 

“Oh. Okay.” He was still blinking owlishly before his eyes locked onto one of the windows that currently had a vast view of space. The boy all but purred at the sight. “You can call me Phantom. What do you want?” 

“You’re the new Ancient?” Constantine asked without as much tacked.

Phantom sighed, shifting to sit even as he floated. “So they tell me. I didn’t know there was going to be a superhero test.” 

“We summoned you to request assistance if you are able to give it.” Batman said, taking over. “A threat is coming to destroy the Earth and we don’t have much time. Is there something in particular you would want in payment?” 

“Besides souls.” Constantine muttered which subtly alarmed everyone within earshot. 

“Destroy…Earth?” Phantom repeated slowly, head tilting. It was slowly occurring to everyone that maybe a baby Ancient really was too young to deal with something like this. “Why?”

Green Lantern sighed, arms crossed. “I’m likely the cause. Earth is the home base for Lanterns in this sector. The previous planet destroyed was also a home base.” 

Phantom’s eyes jerked up, his full attention on Green Lantern. “Previous planet destroyed? Where?” He paused, “And when? I have been feeling a little off.” 

No one knew quite what to make of the strange comment, but Lantern continued anyway. “A planet in the neighboring sector, 2813. It has been eight days, and before long, that threat will be here.” 

“Is it possible you know of a way to prevent the destruction of Earth?” Wonder Woman asked, but Phantom seemed distracted. 

He removed his gloves and was looking at the back of his hands. When that didn’t seem to tell him what he wanted, he tugged on his sleeve, making the fabric go invisible in small sections so he could easily look at his skin beneath it without the cumbersome task of rolling his sleeves up. 

He was covered in glowing freckles, just like on his face, but one by one the League members took notice of the way they moved. Phantom would twist his arm one way and then another and each set of freckles would be replaced by a completely new set of glowing little spots. When that didn’t show him what he wanted, he kept looking, checking both arms first before moving down his chest slowly. 

The League could do nothing but watch the strangeness before them as their follow up questions went ignored. 

When he got to a spot under his ribs, Phantom screeched. “It’s gone!” 

“Phantom…?” 

Phantom looked out the Watch Tower window, his face morphing into one of fury. His eyes shined brightly and whatever he was looking for, he clearly found. 

“T̢̜̞̮ͭ̓ͫͦh̨̻̼͓͓̜ͭ̈͆ȃ̴̩ͅtͯ̚͏͇̮̖̙ ̡̭͎̝̟͇͙̏ͣ̑͛m̵̭͉͈̳̟͎͈̲̋̋o͈̮̫͓̪͔͐͠t͉̬̉͒̈́ͪ͠h͉̠̭͓̞͎̺͓ͥͥ͘e̅͗̔̿҉̞̪̺̮̗̜r͙̪̼͈̐̉͞ ̫̥̳̿̾͒͑͞f͔̟͈͍ͯ̊̏́ù̶̯̬̫͈͕c̲ͣ̓̿͠ͅk̦̘̖̭͕͉̹̥̈̍̈́ͤ͘e͚̬͗͡ͅr̛̤̩̺͂̃̇̉ͅ.”

To say the Justice League was surprised by the shift in the boys tone was an understatement. 

“Yeah, i’ll stop your threat.” Phantom growled, easily leaving the summoning circle. He shifted right through the wall and directly into space without a care. 

Silence filled the room, no one entirely sure what they’d done by summoning a baby Ancient. “So that happened.” Flash commented. “Are we still planning for doomsday?” 

“We’ll see…” Constantine muttered. “Though if that kid gets hurt, might be bad for the universe.” 

“Not what we wanted to hear, John.” Wonder Woman said, looking out the window. Nothing looked unusual to her. 

~

In an hour's time, Phantom returned just as distracted as he’d been when he’d left. He remained seated in the air as he held what looked like a cracked marble in his hands. It was surrounded by a mist, and inside sparked with many different colors. 

Phantom seemed to be sealing the crack, a smile on his face. 

Batman was the one to approach, and if he was anxious it was hard to tell. “Phantom.” He greeted cautiously. “You’re back.”

“Uh huh.” Phantom said, eyes glittering happily at the marble. “I got rid of your problem. Earth is safe.” 

“Got…rid of.” Batman repeated slowly, a tinge of disbelief in his voice. 

“So we’re good?” Flash asked. “Good work, kid.” 

“Yeah, he deserved it.” Phantom said, finally cradling the smooth marble in his palm. 

Constantine was still smoking, but his eyes were narrowed. “Do i wanna know what you’re doin’?”

Phantom beamed. “I got my planet back! It was a little broken but i fixed it.” 

“Your planet?” Green Lantern repeated, adrenaline hitting him. “The destroyed planet!?” 

“Yep.” Phantom looked pleased with himself. “Now i just gotta set it back in time eight days to get everyone back on track and i can put it back where it belongs.” 

“Put it…back.” Batman seemed to have trouble with the skill set of one teenager.” 

It was Superman who slid closer with a disarmingly charming smile. “May i ask what kind of Ancient you are. I admit i don’t know much about them.” 

Phantom perked up. “I’m the Ancient of Space!” He ignored Constantine’s groan from across the room. “I’m really glad you guys called me about this! It would have taken me a while to find a planet destroyed out of the natural timeline.” 

“And you have time abilities?” Wonder Woman asked softly. Time and Space was a heady combination. 

“Nope! But Clockwork does.” Phantom said. “He’ll do it for me.” 

“Will he?” The Flash stared. 

Phantom didn’t seem to notice the incredulous looks. As far as he was concerned, everyone was simply taking his explanations in stride. Tilting his head back his eyes shimmered with power. “Clockwork!” he called, voice reverberating oddly. No one missed Zatanna paling or Constantine cursing. No one had time to ask either before a tear appeared just to the right of Phantom. It split the very air apart in a green haze before a portal opened and a man floated out. Wrapped in a purple cloak, the man floated like Phantom did but had a ghostly tail instead of legs and off putting red eyes. 

He had a staff donned with clock gears and mechanisms that ticked in an unsettling way. No one needed an explanation, which was good because Constantine wasn’t going to give one. 

This was the Ancient of Time. They had two Ancients in the Watch Tower. 

Phantom didn’t seem bothered and held out his marble with a smile. “Fix!” he asked cheerfully. 

Clockwork turned from what appeared to be an adult man to an elderly man in the blink of an eye. “You know time is sensitive, Phantom. Not everything can be changed on a whim." 

Phantom’s smile lessened. He looked back and forth from Clockwork to the marble and back to Clockwork again. “I’ll cry. Swear to the Ancients, i’ll start crying.” 

The elderly Clockwork shifted back into the form of a young man. “Do you think tears will alter the timeline?” 

Batman smiled, almost. He knew a mischievous teen trying to get his way when he saw one. That theory proved correct when Phantom honestly did begin to sniffle, eyes becoming damp. 

“An asshole destroyed a piece of me.” Phantom said, lips wobbling. “I felt it. I didn’t feel good.” 

Clockwork’s form shifted again, this time into the form of a young child. He heaved a sigh, “If you start weeping you’ll summon the others.” 

Phantom nearly whimpered, holding out the marble still. Every member of the Justice League watched with bated breath. 

Clockwork crossed his arms. “How far back do you want it?” 

“Yay!” Phantom beamed immediately, impressing upon how young he must have been. “Eight days! Actually, maybe nine. That might be better for them. I’m sure the…Green Lantern…people… can explain that they lost little more than a week in order to be brought back. That’ll be fine, right?” 

Green Lantern was too stunned by the question to answer but it was fine since it seemed to be rhetorical coming from the young Ancient. 

Clockwork turned back into an adult and held his staff out over the marble Phantom held. There was no discernible change other than the hands on the staff’s clock face moving. Phantom was nearly bouncing in place which was interesting to see considering his feet weren’t on the floor. 

“Thank you, Clockwork!” Phantom said, looking delighted and completely missing the way Clockwork just sighed fondly. 

“Hurry along home before the yeti’s start to look for you.” Clockwork said in a fairly familiar tone. 

“Yes, yes.” Phantom said distractedly, tossing the marble up in the air where it disappeared. He tugged at his black suit right over his ribs and did the same invisibility trick again. He shifted twice until he found the patch of skin that held the group of freckles he wanted. 

No one was close enough to see for themselves, but Phantom crowed happily. “Good! It’s back where it’s supposed to be!” 

“It’s back?” Batman asked, a hint in his voice saying he had a hundred more questions. 

“Yep.” Phantom said. “It’s really annoying to me when someone destroys one of my stars or planets before their natural life cycles have worn out.” 

“Is that a map of the galaxy on your skin?” Wonder Woman asked, charmed by the constellation of freckles across his nose and under his pointed ears. 

“No.” Phantom said. “It’s a map of every universe on my skin. They overlap so sometimes i gotta hunt for the one i want a little.” 

“Every…” Superman sounded like he had the wind knocked out of him. 

“Come, Your Majesty.” Clockwork said, opening a shockingly green portal with his staff. “You’ve had your fun.” 

“Okay, okay.” Phantom mumbled. 

“Majesty?” Zatanna whispered, confusion coloring her tone. 

Phantom whipped back around to look at her with a sheepish grin. “Ah, yeah. I’m the King of the infinite Realm. Let me know if anyone else messes with one of my planets! Bye now.” 

The Ancients departed and Constantine started wheezing. 

“I take it no one knew the baby Ancient was a king?” Flash asked, a very startled silence taking over the Watch Tower. 

~~

I know i originally said that the planet had been destroyed but that somehow turned into it being eaten or absorbed or something so Danny got it back. 

I really just wanted Danny to find a missing planet on his skin and freaking out over it. 

Feel free to take this idea, though i’m sure something like it exists already. ^__^

Master List

[chaepink]

can u make headcannons on sub!yan’s tendencies in the relationship?

also can i be 🉑 or 🌝 anon?

dating sub!yandere boys hcs ♡

sub!yandere boys when they date you.

wc: 1.1k+ words | masterlist

dom!fem!reader, unhealthy relationship, mention of killing/murder, both sfw and nsfw!, mention of feminization, bondage

note: yes you can be 🌝 anon!

— your yandere would be possessive of you, even more compared to when you two were just friends

— well, you thought you two were just friends. he already assumed you two were together sometime earlier during his friendship with you

— he would do anything for you in order to make sure you're happy and safe

— a friend of yours is getting too touchy with you? well the next day that friend is ignoring you and when you confront them, they look at you scared and quickly scurry away from you. did your yandere do something to them? surely not

— a weird guy keeps following you around your neighborhood? well a couple of days later you see on the news that his body has been found near a river and weirdly enough, you havent seen your yandere on the days before the guy's death

— you complain to your yandere about how a teacher gave you a bad grade on something you worked so hard on? suddenly your grade changes to a A and that same exact teacher suddenly resigns from the school

— he'll try his best to know where you are most of the time and try to follow you back home to make sure you're safe (though its really obvious, you don't acknowledge him so he thinks he's actually doing something)

— but no matter how scary and possessive they are of you, they just want to be good for you, really

— its almost as if they're a puppy for you, always there for your beck and call

— give them a simple command and they'll do it immediately, no questions asked

— ask them to buy you a snack from the nearest store? he'll return back with a bagful of others that he thought you would like

— they're super clingy and always want to be near you

— somehow they manage to have the same exact classes that you have and at the same time. maybe you guys are just lucky? little do you know that your yandere hacked into the principal's computer to change his schedule to fit with yours

— if you're sick, they would immediately fetch you some medicine and make so many bowls of your favorite soup that you're not sure you could finish them all

— they would be so sad when you're sick cause that means they can't be as close as they usually are with you :(

— in bed, nothing changes at all. rather, he becomes even more infatuated with you

— they're still so good and obedient for you, always following your commands. its cute

— like what i said with him doing it with no hesitation, your yandere is eager to do what you say

— tell him to get on his knees? say less as he's already doing so, staring up at you with such innocent eyes

— tell him to open his mouth for you to stick your fingers inside? he opens wide and sticks out his tongue in such a sinful manner, hazy eyes absolutely begging you to make him choke on your fingers as drool drips down his chin

— order him to suck your strap and get it all wet? he's quick to get in between your legs and get his hands on the fake dick, his mouth going straight to bobbing it up and down and gagging as it hits the back of his throat. he'll try to subtly grind his hard on against your foot without you noticing but you do anyways but he's being a good boy so you allow it

— and oh my god is he so shameless in public

— no hesitation in telling you what he wants you to do to him when there are people around

— you'll be at brunch with some of your friends and suddenly you'll feel a hot breath on your ear, such sinful words coming soon after

"im wearing lingerie under my clothes, your favorite set too. wouldn't you like to just ruin me right here and now? make me cry and look so pretty while you show everyone im yours?"

— safe to say that you immediately dragged him to the family bathroom and fingered him until he was gripping onto you for dear life, begging and crying out for you to stop and take pity on him (he's lying about wanting you to stop)

— when you're out with errands or just at work, he'll take such sinful pictures of himself to send to you randomly

— the pictures would include his legs spread out, a obvious bulge in his underwear, and something adorning his body whether its lingerie, a maid outfit, or rope that's tied so tightly on him

— if he's feeling like teasing you even more, he'll send whimpering audios that beg you to come home and fuck him and if you listen close enough, you'll hear some wet noises that let you know that he's masturbating

"f-fuck, [name] come back s-soon, please? i-i miss you so much! i- ah! i-im wearing your favorite outfit right now! i'll be a g-good ngh boy waiting for you ♡"

— itll end up with you rushing home after you're finished to fuck him dumb in that outfit, making it stained with his tears and cum

— he knows you can't really get him pregnant but your yandere just loves those straps with cum in them that you can just shoot inside him whenever you're fucking him fast and rough

— that'll make his eyes roll back and head throw backwards as he lets out such a loud mewl at the feeling of your fake cum filling him up

— and afterwards he'll tease you by using his fingers to push the cum thats gushing out of his hole back in before licking his fingers

— although your yandere is a good boy for you most of the time, theres times where he's a brat

— he'll talk back to you whenever you command him to do something or cum without permission

— but just some long edging or overstimulation will break him and turn him into a sobbing mess

— tying his hands to the headboard and keeping his legs spread apart whilst a vibrator is inside him on the highest setting is his favorite punishment

— your yandere thinks you don't know that since you do it all the time but you actually do know it, you just love the way his face is stained with his drool and tears while his chest and the sheets underneath him is covered in his cum afterwards

— such a slut but we love him for it

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[ellecdc]

girl girl hear me out YAPPER GF X REGULUS!! Pls pls pls like u could do anything u wanted with them!!! I have a few ideas (take any or none)

May be she just walks up to him one day like clearly wanting to befriend him cuz she has a lil crush and just starts yapping about how the great hall had her fave pastry for breakfast today and he's so confused but also intrigued and then she starts sitting next to him in classes and asking him to hang out at hogsmead and she just yaps and sometimes she thinks may be he zones out but then he'll bring up this super niche detail she mentioned last time like "hey what happened to that quill you forgot in the potions lecture?"

they r already dating and she worries she's too much energy and talk for him and tries to be quiet and he's just like r u sick? R u mad at me? What's wrong u haven't gone on a 30 min description/rant about ur day

3. May be someone else brings up she talks a lot and Reggie defends her?

you guys really love your bubbly/talkative readers with Regulus, don't you? (so do i); thanks for your request!

Regulus Black x yapper!reader who didn't think he was actually listening

CW: fem!reader, rolling thoughts, brief mention of difficulty making friends, people talking about reader behind her back, swear words (on ellecdc? nooo [sarcasm])

Your family said that you had an incessant need to fill silence from the moment you could talk. 

“If there’s a room with our daughter in it, you can be certain that it won’t be quiet.” Your mum had proclaimed as she beamed at you lovingly one day.

While it was certainly a trait that your family had always found rather endearing, you felt that it made it particularly difficult making friends once you began attending Hogwarts. 

But the friends you managed to make loved you for it, and they had often stated “you can call her what you want but you can’t call her boring.” 

That didn’t mean your other classmates appreciated your stories or tangents, though. 

Which is how you ended up serving numerous detentions for speaking during class or lectures and disturbing the students around you, and how you’d been cycled through numerous seat partners in potions class. 

And that is how poor Regulus Black ended up stuck sharing a worktable with the likes of you.

He didn’t seem to mind, though. And if he did, well, he certainly never said anything about it.

You were quite sure he tuned you out during your rambles, hardly ever sparing you a glance and keeping his eyes trained on his parchment in front of him as he took dutiful notes during lectures.

Couldn’t be you, however.

No.

You were too busy lamenting about the fact that you couldn’t get more than twenty feet to the mooncalf herd up the hill behind the quidditch pitch before they would all run off. They only came out at night, you see, and you wanted to take some photos of them. Some photos turned into midnight picnics, and picnics turned into sharing apple slices by means of throwing them towards the bug-eyed beasts and watching them argue over the slice until you threw another. But even after feeding them forty seven apples and counting at this point (Winky the house elf from the kitchen was not pleased with you), they still wouldn’t let you get any closer to them.

Your next course of action was to try a smellier and higher value treat; you wondered then if mooncalves could have tuna? Tuna was certainly smelly enough. Well, if you couldn’t entice the mooncalves, you’d certainly entice a cat or two. 

You wondered then if mooncalves and cats got along? Kneazles were nearly the same size as the poor beasts, but cats were much smaller. You figured cats would look at a mooncalf the same way they’d look at a goat. 

You’d seen a cat ride a goat once, not many people believed you, though. You’d have to learn how to make a pensieve one day just to prove it to everyone. You didn’t much care for goats, though; something about their square pupils seemed alien to you. 

Which seemed odd considering there were numerous beasts in the magical world that really were quite alien, yet it was  goats that did it for you.

And why were they always associated with the devil? Was it because of the square pupils? Do you think there’d be a book that explained that?

But you didn’t even realise that the period had ended until Regulus stood and collected his books, offering you a curt nod before leaving the classroom. 

Fuck….do you think he’d let you copy his notes? 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Merlin’s tits, she never stops talking! I feel bad for the poor sod stuck next to her; Black probably wants to avada himself every class. You heard a classmate mutter as you walked to your workbench, movements slowed as you lowered yourself into your chair and tried not to let their words hurt you. 

You were used to the comments, you were used to the sentiment honestly; did they think it was easy being you? Did they think you didn’t get tired of listening to yourself too? 

Of course you did, it was exhausting; your brain never stopped moving, and apparently, neither did your mouth.

But it did hurt a little, perhaps because Regulus had been quite gracious about it thus far. He had listened to you carry on about the astrological significance of space waste and how that was affecting the magic of the stars. He had listened to you bemoan about the positive impact that centaur migration had on local flora and fauna and how the fencing of fields and forests was going to cause unimaginable damage to the life cycles of such. He also had listened to your morose mooncalf story and the update the next day that you were able to order cans of tuna via owl to the castle.

And he’d not so much as bat an eye at you.

Certainly he’d have said something to you if you bothered him? 

Although, perhaps this was why Slughorn put him beside you, because he knew Regulus wouldn’t say anything; had Regulus done something to anger Slughorn? Was placing you beside Regulus less about you driving your seat mates crazy, but more about being a punishment for Regulus?

Well, you couldn’t imagine Regulus had done anything bad enough to deserve a full term with you as a potions partner.

No, you decided, you would not be his punishment.

So when Regulus entered class that day, and Slughorn read out the instructions for today’s potion brew, you resisted the urge to speak.

You were quiet when retrieving your potion ingredients, you were quiet as you checked and double checked the brewing instructions, and you were quiet as you waited for the potion to reach its boiling point. 

You actually thought you’d done quite well; you sort of wished you had started a timer, this may very well have been a record for you. 

Well, unless sleeping counted. Would sleeping count as being quiet? Oh gods, what if you talked in your sleep too!? You’d have to ask your roommates.

“L/N.” Regulus called as if it hadn’t been the first time he’d done so. “You alright?” He asked, ducking down in an attempt to meet your gaze as you watched a divot appear between his brows.

“Yeah? Why?” You asked, finding yourself furrowing your brows in solidarity; you found Regulus to be too pretty to look so worried. 

He shrugged his shoulders and straightened up, though the space between his brows remained divoted. “You’ve been awfully quiet, s’all.” He murmured quietly, and you were surprised to see a dusting of pink on his cheeks.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” You muttered perhaps pointedly; his eyes narrowing to match the furrowed brows. 

“Says who?”

Your eyes traitorously darted to the students who had been discussing your habits, and Regulus followed your gaze.

He rolled his eyes and muttered something in French under his breath as he turned his attention back towards your shared potion. “Those tossers are just mad that they have nothing of value to say.”

You more felt than heard a disbelieving breath escape your lips as you looked at Regulus in bemusement. 

He didn’t seem to notice though, as he continued to the next step in your potion and carried on. “Did the tuna work?”

You stared at him dumbly before your brain kicked back into gear. “I beg your pardon?”

“The tuna.” He repeated. “For the mooncalves?”

Oh.

“Oh.” You started, giving your head a shake as you tried to find your balance you had long lost during this conversation. “Erm, no, but I did indeed attract a few cats.”

“Ah.” Regulus offered, smiling at you (or at the expected poof from the potion signifying that the two of you had brewed it correctly thus far). 

“Also, I found out why goats are often associated with the devil, but the book you’d be looking for is Biblical in nature.”

You stared at him with your mouth agape as he continued. “There’s a quote where that Christ bloke mentions something about separating people from one another just as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. They’re used as a metaphor for the ‘bad’ or ‘inferior’ member of any group; it could also be understood as the divide between the pure and the wicked. I say goats got a bad rap, though.”

The next step in your potion brewing process was to allow the potion to simmer until it turned a milky white colour, so Regulus lowered the heat before appearing to remember something.

“I almost forgot…” He started as he began rooting through his book bag. “I asked the shopkeep at Brood & Peck, and she said this is a favourite of mooncalves; maybe you’ll have more luck tonight?” He asked as he held out a parchment of beast treats to you. 

“You’ve been listening? This whole time?” You whispered in awe as you took the bag delicately as if  he had just handed you a delicate china dish. 

His brows furrowed again as he searched your eyes. “Well…yeah? I’m rather invested now.” He explained just as your potion turned its intended colour. 

“Very good Mr. Black, Miss. L/N.” Professor Slughorn commented as he walked past your workbench. 

You were alerted to the fact that class was over when everyone’s potions were vanished with a pop and students started to pack up their belongings.

“You’ll keep me posted, yeah? About the mooncalves?” Regulus asked as he started walking backwards towards the door. 

“Sure.” You murmured, earning you a wide smile from the notoriously quiet boy. 

Yes… You’d be more than happy to keep Regulus Black posted.

[inkedinshadows]

Nights and Days

Pairing: Azriel × reader

Summary: Azriel and Y/N are on a mission in Illyria, but as they move from one camp to another, they’re caught in a blizzard and are forced to find shelter in the nearest inn. Thanks to the shadowsinger, there's only one bed.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, just a sprinkle of shadow play, language, lots of witty banter

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: this is my first time writing smut, so I'd really appreciate it if you let me know what you think 🥺

Groups of rebels had begun to appear all over Illyria, claiming that Rhys was not a good High Lord, that a low-born bastard was not suited to be their general, and that training their women was nothing more than a waste of time.

After two weeks of diplomacy that led to absolutely nothing, Rhys had dispatched the Inner Circle to deal with the rebels. Mor and Amren had stayed in Velaris to make sure nothing happened, but the others had been sent out to Illyria. And Y/N had been paired up with Azriel.

They were flying from one war camp to the next—Y/N trying to focus on anything other than Azriel holding her close as he flew—when it started to snow.

“Is it safe to keep going?” she asked him, glancing at his beautiful wings flapping behind him.

“Would you rather I land now? In the middle of nowhere?” Azriel looked down at her with a little smirk on his face. “Give me some credit, Y/N. I can handle a little snow.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you’re a big, tough Illyrian warrior. My bad.”

He didn't answer, but she didn't need to look at him to know he was still smirking. That annoyingly attractive smirk always made her want to kiss him. She focused on the forest below, on anything other than his lips and how close they’d be if she would just turn her head his way.

They flew in silence for just a few more minutes before the snow began to fall more heavily. Y/N simply looked at Azriel with a raised eyebrow, not bothering to use words.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” he said when he noticed her expression, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Camp is not that far. We can still make it.”

“Azriel, did you wake up this morning and just decided to be stupid?” She pointed at the grey sky above them, where more clouds were gathering with the promise of more snow to come. “You see that, right? It’s already late and we both know it’ll only get worse. We won’t reach the next camp before it turns into a blizzard. Besides, I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

His only answer was a low chuckle. “Oh, yeah? The poor princess is freezing her little ass off?”

She smacked him on the shoulder. “My ass is anything but little, shadowsinger. Shouldn’t you find us a shelter or something, instead of making fun of me?”

“Said the one who just called me stupid,” he pointed out. He lifted a brow, flashing her another one of those smirks. “Maybe you should apologize for that, and I might think about landing somewhere.”

She cocked her head, unsure if he was messing around or not. “I refuse to apologize for telling the truth. And you’d better land soon, or I’ll kick your ass when you do.”

Azriel’s laugh echoed in her ears, and it took all her focus not to smile just at that sound she so rarely got to hear. “As if you could actually kick my ass.”

If her arms hadn’t been wrapped around his neck, she would have crossed them over her chest. Or maybe she would have used them to strangle him, if only it wouldn't mean they'd fall out of the sky. Eventually, she settled to roll her eyes again. “Azriel, I’m being serious.”

Though she enjoyed their usual banter and she knew as well as everyone that she could never kick his ass, she hadn’t lied. Even with her Illyrian leathers, she was starting to freeze out there in the snow, and there was no way they would reach their destination without being caught in a full-blown blizzard.

“Relax. Despite what you think, Y/N, I’m not stupid.” He gestured to something below them just as she opened her mouth to protest. “It’s an inn. You would have noticed it already, if only you hadn’t been so busy complaining.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, squinting to see through the trees and the snow. But as Azriel glided down, she finally saw it. It was a rather large building for an inn in the middle of the woods—many Illyrians probably passed through it—so there was a high chance of finding a couple of rooms to spend the night in.

Azriel landed and gently set her on the ground. Together, they headed for the door and were welcomed inside by the warmth of a fire in the corner of the room. She shook the snow off her hair as she took in their surroundings—a few tables full of Illyrian warriors, most of them drinking and laughing quite loudly.

“We ran out of double rooms.” The innkeeper looked at them as they approached, apparently too bored to even bother with greetings. “But we’ve still got a few single ones.”

Before she could tell him that two rooms were perfect, Azriel was already answering. “We need only one, actually.”

Next thing she knew, he had grabbed her hand and was leading her up the stairs, a key now clutched in his fingers. She waited for the door to close behind them before she turned to him with a frown. “What the hell was that? Why only one room?”

Azriel tossed his pack on the floor and replied as if the answer was obvious. “The hall was packed with drunk Illyrians.”

“So?”

He looked at her then, and she couldn’t quite understand what she saw in his eyes. Was it concern? Or frustration because she still didn’t realize something he thought was so simple?

“I’m not letting you sleep in another room alone, when a bunch of drunk Illyrians have just seen you, probably the only female here, walk in.”

Well, that was not what she expected. But as she thought it over, she couldn’t deny he had a point. She was able to hold her own in a fight, just not against fully trained warriors, and she didn't want to take any risk, especially when it was just one night.

Not knowing what to answer, she looked around the room, which consisted of only one bed and a small dresser—lame and boring, but it would do. Except for the one single bed.

She watched as Azriel sat on an old rug, the only decoration there was. “And what are you doing now, exactly?”

He shrugged, with that same expression that seemed to tell her the answer was obvious. “I'll take the floor, you take the bed.”

She almost laughed at that. “You can't sleep on the floor, not with your wings. I'll do it.”

“I'll be fine,” he replied, and extended his wings behind him as if to prove it. “Why would you want to sleep on the floor anyway?”

“Because I don't want you to do it,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Now get your ass off that floor, shadowsinger.”

Azriel did no such thing and instead leaned back against the wall and extended his legs in front of him. Her gaze dropped to his thighs, the muscles shifting with the movement.

“Why would I do that? It's comfortable here.”

She looked up again, her arms crossed over her chest. “It's not and you know it.”

Both of them too stubborn to give in, they glared at each other. She made no move to sit on the bed, and he made no move to get up. They probably could have spent hours like this, but she couldn't stand the idea of Azriel sleeping on a half-consumed rug, even if it meant she'd do it.

“You wouldn't want to face the rebels with a sore body tomorrow, would you?” she tried, hoping it'd make him think straight.

“I've slept on the ground before, I'll be fine. Big, tough Illyrian warrior, remember?” His lips twitched up, and amusement glinted in his hazel eyes. “Just take the bed, Y/N. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“Which is exactly why you should sleep on the bed, Az,” she snapped before taking a deep breath and speaking more calmly. “I'm just the backup. It doesn't matter if I'm sore.”

“It matters to me.”

His words hung heavily in the air, and she swallowed, not sure how to react to them or to the fervor in his voice. There was an intensity in his eyes that she’d never seen before and, unable to his gaze any longer, she blinked.

“You’re not going to budge, are you?” she asked with a sigh, her arms falling back to her sides.

“No.” And there it was again, that teasing grin she usually wanted to kiss. Right now, though, she felt more like punching him for his stubbornness. It outmatched even her own. “So I suggest you listen and take the bed. You need some rest.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and you don't?”

This time, it was his turn to sigh and roll his eyes at her. “Y/N, I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse conditions, and it’s only just one night anyway.”

And yet, the thought of him sleeping on that rug while she was all comfortable on the bed didn’t sit right with her. Just like her well-being mattered to him, his mattered to her. Maybe it was because he’d admitted it, or because he’d rather sleep on the floor than let her stay in another room when the place was full of Illyrians. Or maybe she was just trying to find some kind of excuse, but the words were out before she could think better of them.

“Sleep on the bed. With me.”

Azriel’s eyes widened, and she immediately regretted even thinking about it. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean… it’s just…” she stuttered, her cheeks heating up as she looked away. What a huge mistake she’d just made. Just because he cared about her didn’t mean he’d want to share a bed with her. What was she even thinking? “I know it’s small and there’s not much space, but I just… I thought it’d still be more comfortable than the floor… you know?” Her voice trailed off, and she stared down at her feet.

Deafening silence filled the room, and then Azriel finally spoke, his tone cautious. “And that’s all you were asking?”

She frowned, not sure what else she might have been asking. But she quickly realized what words she had used and how that could potentially sound like something more than an offer to share the bed. Sleep on the bed. With me. Cauldron, she was so stupid. Her face turned an even deeper shade of red. When was the last time she had blushed?

“No, I wasn’t— that’s not what I—” She couldn’t get the words out, and it didn’t help that her mind was now wandering toward certain scenarios that involved the two of them, a bed, and very little clothing. She turned away from him and mumbled, “Whatever.”

“I think this is the first time I've ever seen you speechless.” There was amusement in his voice, and she knew the asshole was smirking once more. “You should watch your word choice if that’s not what you intended to ask.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry,” she murmured as she reached for her pack, but when she took her nightgown out, she realized there was no place to go to get changed. How was she supposed to change in front of him after such an embarrassing mistake? So instead, she delayed the moment she’d have to do it by trying to explain again. “It wasn’t my intention to imply anything. It came out wrong.”

She could feel his eyes on her as he answered. “I noticed. What was your intention, then?”

The look she gave him was one of annoyance. He knew exactly what her intention was, and he just liked to mess with her. She glared at him for a moment before she replied, “I meant what I said. I don’t want you to sleep on that rug, and you don’t want me to do it either. So, the only other option is that we share the bed.”

“Mh, I see.” His lips tugged up in a self-satisfied grin that just made her want to hit him to see it disappear. Not that she could hit him even if she really wanted to. Azriel would block her blow with little effort. But how could she have ever wanted to kiss him?

“So sleeping next to me is the only option?” he added.

“You know what?” she snapped, gesturing to the rug where he was still sitting like it was the most comfortable place he’d ever been. “I changed my mind. Sleep on the floor. I don’t care.”

He chuckled. Chuckled. Cauldron boil her.

She turned her back on him and, without giving it any second thought, she began undressing. She hadn’t realized how warm the Illyrian leathers were until she shivered as soon as she took them off.

“It seems like you’re cold,” Azriel drawled from behind her.

“I’m not,” she replied. She put on her nightgown and sought refuge under the covers. “Not for long, anyway.”

How was Azriel going to spend the night on a rug, without a blanket? When he didn’t answer, she considered maybe asking him one last time to share the bed. Out of the goodness of her heart, she supposed.

But then Azriel spoke again, amusement clear in his voice. And the goodness of her heart be damned.

“You're cold, aren't you?”

She sighed, wrapping the blanket tighter around her body. “No.”

“Liar.”

“Prick.”

“I'm the prick? You're the one who suggested we should share the bed.”

Y/N resisted the urge to turn on her side and face him. Maybe it was stupid and childish of her, but she kept lying with her back to him. “I don't see how that makes me a prick, Az. Besides, you're the one who made fun of me because of it, which means you're the prick here.”

His voice still carried a sense of playfulness as he answered. “I made fun of you because you stumbled over your words like a fool. It was quite amusing, to be honest.”

Instead of replying, she slid a hand out from under the blanket and flipped him off over her shoulder. As she hid it again and curled up in the bedsheets, Azriel’s soft laugh made her smile despite herself.

She heard some noise and, assuming he was getting changed and ready for the night, she closed her eyes. But her mind was running wild.

Images of his hands on her. Of her hands on him. Their lips touching, first tenderly, then passionately. Their bodies pressed together as pleasure overcame them. All scenarios she had never let herself fully consider before, now evoked by Azriel's misunderstanding of her words. Scenarios she now knew for sure would never happen if the way he'd teased her for even suggesting sharing the bed was any indication.

“Make room for me?”

His voice was so close to her that she started, her head snapping around to find him standing next to the bed. He had taken off his leathers and was now wearing loose pants and a shirt. His wings were tucked in tight behind him—those beautiful wings that she knew were bigger than Cassian's and Rhysand's. She still wasn't sure she should believe Mor about the correlation between an Illyrian's wingspan and other body parts.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,” he added with a small smile.

“You and your absurdly silent steps,” she grumbled, but she was already moving to the other side of the bed.

Only that there wasn’t exactly an ‘other side’, not when the bed was barely big enough for both of them. As Azriel slipped under the sheets, she found herself with her back pressed against his chest. His familiar scent of night-chilled mist and cedar filled her senses, and his warmth seeped through her, chasing away the remnants of the cold that even the blanket hadn’t yet managed to rid her of.

“Tell me you don’t move a lot when you sleep,” she said as he settled behind her. “Because if you push me off, I’ll make you regret not staying on that rug.”

His laugh skittered down her back. “You always have something to say, don't you?”

“I promise you, the moment there will be nothing to say, I will shut up,” she replied with a chuckle.

Silence fell and Y/N nestled more against his side. She just couldn't help it. Feeling him so close, their bodies pressing together... it was intoxicating, and she wanted to stay like that forever. She hesitated a moment, and then she decided that she might as well do it: grabbing his arm, she wrapped it around her waist and laced their fingers together, their intertwined hands resting against her stomach. Azriel tensed behind her, and she thought he might pull away, but he didn’t. Instead, he released a deep breath that tickled the back of her neck.

“I would never let you fall off the bed,” he murmured. His voice was so close to her ear that it almost made her shiver. And as if to show he really meant what he said, Azriel draped his wings around her.

Y/N suddenly had a lump in her throat. Being enveloped in his wings was somehow more intimate than lying so close to each other. “Glad to hear it,” was all she could think about. After a second, she added in a whisper, “And thank you for not letting me sleep alone.”

Azriel’s arm tightened around her waist, his breath warm against her neck. When he spoke, she could tell by his tone alone that he wanted to say more than just, “You're welcome.” She didn't push him though. He'd tell her when and if he decided to.

She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, letting the sound of the blizzard outside lull her, but with Azriel holding her it was nearly impossible. Wrapped in his arms and wings, she felt safe and protected. Everything else seemed to disappear until it was just the two of them in their small cocoon.

“Can you turn over?”

Her eyes opened at his question, but she didn't move. To face him would mean being only inches away from him. She didn't trust herself to be that close to him. To his lips.

“Why?”

“Just turn over, Y/N,” he whispered. “Please.”

It was the vulnerability in his voice—the barely audible ‘please’—that had her giving in. She had never heard him say it before, not like that.

But as she complied, her face was even closer to his than she'd anticipated. Their noses were almost touching, and she made a point not to let her gaze drop to his lips.

Azriel didn't say anything. They stared into each other's eyes for a few moments or maybe an hour—Y/N didn't know. The one thing she knew was that her heart was beating faster in her chest, and it only got worse when he brushed her cheek, his touch gentle and soft. She smiled, and the movement caused his gaze to dip to her mouth. She waited for him to look up again, but he didn't.

Her smile turned into a little smirk. “Are you just going to stare at my lips all night, or do you plan to actually do something about it?”

Azriel looked at her again, and though he tried to look annoyed, she could see a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Why do you always have to make such quick-witted comments?”

“Shut up and kiss me,” she replied before she even knew what she was saying. She didn't regret it though, because he did it.

And the world shrank till there was just Azriel.

His lips were soft against hers, warm and inviting. His hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer. She melted against him, opening up for his tongue to slip inside, tasting her slowly, almost reverently. Her heart was beating so fast it might have jumped out of her chest.

She'd wanted this to happen for the longest time, and now that it was real, the leash she'd kept on herself vanished. Every feeling, every emotion she'd stifled for so long, now rushed to the surface like a tidal wave.

What had started as a tender kiss soon turned into something passionate and greedy. She whimpered softly against his lips, and her hands began to make their way down to the hem of his shirt.

“Y/N.” Azriel's whisper stopped her as she looked into his eyes. She could see her own need reflected there. “Are you sure about this?”

“I don't look sure enough to you?” She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe next time I should just send you a note and—”

Azriel silenced her with another kiss. “You and your sarcastic answers,” he murmured with a smile.

Y/N giggled and cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb against his lips. “I mean it, Az,” she said, her tone softer now. “I'm sure about it.”

“Good.” He pulled her flush against him as his hands roamed down her back. “Because if I start, I don't think I could stop.”

“Good,” she repeated before she kissed him again.

Y/N tugged on his shirt, and they parted long enough for her to take it off, though it took a bit of struggle to undo the clasps on his back and free his wings. She'd seen him shirtless before, mostly when he was training—he was a real feast for the eye—but now she got to touch him, to run her hands across his torso and feel him shudder. His mouth descended on her neck in response, leaving a trail of wet kisses while his hands gripped her backside.

“You were right, princess,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “Your ass is definitely not little.”

She chuckled as he kneaded it. “Told you.”

Azriel hummed, planting one last kiss on her neck before he shifted position and Y/N found herself pressed down on the mattress, the shadowsinger now on top of her. As she pulled him closer for their lips to meet yet again, his hands caressed her legs, trailing up her thighs and slipping under her nightgown.

She held her breath as he brushed past her panties, lingering just long enough to make her shiver. He then moved up her body, causing the fabric to rise and reveal her soft flesh.

Y/N broke the kiss, a small sigh leaving her lips when Azriel’s hands reached her breasts. He smiled at the sound, and as their eyes met, his gaze was so full of desire that her core clenched.

She wanted him. She needed him.

Before she could reach between them to push down his pants, Azriel gently stopped her by grabbing her wrists, sensing what her intention was. “Not yet,” he murmured.

She frowned. A slight tug was all it took for him to release her hands, though she didn't try to undress him again. “Why not?”

And there it was again, that smirk. But now, with him on top of her, both of them half naked, she didn't simply want to kiss it. No, she wanted do all the things she'd never let herself consider.

“Because I want to see you first, princess.”

Azriel was already pushing her nightgown up, but as usual, she couldn't keep her mouth shut. “So it's official? You're calling me princess now? You've never done that before.”

He looked down at her with so much desire that it seemed to set her body on fire. “I've never been about to fuck you before,” he answered, his voice low and sultry.

Her thighs clenched together, but before she could come up with a response, Azriel removed her nightgown. Her skin was already so heated she barely felt the bite of the cool air, and it was completely forgotten when he ran his hands all over her body, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned down to take one of her nipples in his warm mouth, a soft moan escaping her as she shivered.

Her fingers tangled in his hair to keep him close, and she arched against him when his tongue flicked out to tease her.

“And you're so responsive,” he murmured. Hooking a scarred finger into the waistband of her panties, he pulled them down her legs. The scent of her arousal wafted through the room as Azriel nudged her legs open and settled in between them.

Y/N was about to tell him to hurry, her need to feel him against and inside her now almost overwhelming. But she couldn’t form the words, not as Azriel pushed his hips against hers and she felt the evidence of his own arousal pressing hard against her wet core.

His hands caressed her sides, her ass, her thighs, and yet he never touched her where she needed it most.

“Azriel…” she complained, eyes locked on him. She moved her hips to grind against his erection, seeking some sort of friction, and she was rewarded by his sharp inhale. But it still wasn't enough.

“Be patient, Y/N.” His mouth descended on her neck again, biting the soft spot where it met her shoulder. “I want to taste you first. I want to worship every inch of you.”

Even though she closed her eyes at his little nips, she shook her head. “Azriel, I appreciate it. I really do. But you have no idea how long I've waited for this.” Her breath hitched when his tongue swirled around her nipple again. “We can leave the worshipping for later. I need you now.”

“You need me, uh?” He kissed her other breast, and she bucked her hips against him once more. “And you've waited a long time for this?”

Y/N looked at him again, her fingers still clutching his hair. She nodded and realized her mistake too late—a new mischievous gleam entered Azriel's hazel eyes.

His lips trailed down her stomach and toward her belly button. Each kiss sent a shiver right to her core. “Then you can wait a little longer.”

She groaned, her patience now at its limit. “Azriel, you—”

A gasp cut her off as he licked a stripe up her dripping folds. She couldn't tell who moaned first when Azriel tasted her once more, his tongue flicking over her clit.

Her fingers tightened in his black curls and her head fell back on the pillow. Azriel's lips closed around her clit and she clamped a hand on her mouth to keep quiet as he gently sucked on it.

His shadows began to slither up her body, their touch cool against her heated skin. Her breathing quickened and she had to hold back a moan when his tongue was replaced by a finger slowly sliding inside her folds.

But it didn't move. Azriel looked up at her and she wished she could somehow capture the picture: his head between her legs, those beautiful hazel eyes focused on her with an almost predatory intent.

“Don't go all quiet on me now, princess,” he murmured against her skin. “I want to hear all your pretty noises.”

A tendril of shadow brushed against her hand, and she removed it from her mouth. “Az, the other rooms—”

He curled his finger to hit that soft, spongy spot inside her that had her see stars, and she couldn't stop the moan that left her lips.

“I don't care if someone hears you.” His voice was a low, almost commanding growl. “Let them hear you. Let them know you're with me.”

She was about to answer, to tell him she wasn't sure she should, but Azriel added a second finger, and she lost all control, another small cry of pleasure slipping out.

Azriel seemed satisfied because his smirk reappeared. “If I had known this is all it took to put a stop on the witty comments, I would have done it a long time ago.”

Y/N wanted to make one of those very witty comments to prove him wrong, to show him she hadn't become helpless just because of how good he made her feel, but his tongue circled her clit again and Mother above, she was helpless.

“Do you want to come, princess?”

Unable to form even a coherent thought, all she could do was nod, her body on the brink of release as his fingers curled once more, drawing a moan from deep in her throat.

“Use your words, Y/N.”

“Yes… yes, please,” she panted.

But instead of keeping going, of driving her over that sweet, craved edge, Azriel placed a kiss to her inner thigh and slowly removed his fingers from her folds. He even moved away from her, standing up at the foot of the bed.

She groaned, pushing herself up on her elbows to glower at him. “Azriel, you get back here right now.”

He only grinned. “Ah, there she is.”

“If you're doing this just because you missed my comments, you should know that I—”

The words died on her tongue as soon as his hands swiftly undid the buttons of his pants. Her eyes followed his every movement as he pushed them down his legs, watching his muscles shift and his wings unfold ever so slightly to keep him balanced.

He wasn't wearing any underwear.

The realization caused her brain to stop working, and the sight of his naked body took her breath away. Maybe the rumors about Illyrian wingspans were true after all.

Her mouth dry, she swallowed before finally speaking again. “Azriel,” she repeated, her voice quivering with barely restrained desire. “Get back here right now.”

For once, he obliged without questioning, his grin wide.

Climbing onto the bed, he crawled up her body until his cock pressed against her entrance, her need for him now through the roof.

Their eyes met, and slowly—too slowly—Azriel pushed in, stretching her inch by delicious inch, both of them releasing a moan when he bottomed out, his hips flush against her.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound shooting straight down to her core. “Fuck, Y/N... you feel incredible.”

She had no words to describe how he felt inside her. ‘Incredible’ was an understatement, but her mind was too foggy to think of something else. The only thing she was sure of was that she needed him to move.

“Azriel,” she breathed as she wrapped her legs around him. He shuddered when she accidentally brushed his wings with her toes. “Please, move. Now.”

With his elbows on either side of her head, he leaned down to kiss her, pulling out almost all the way. “I love hearing you beg for it,” he whispered against her lips, and rocked back into her with a quick roll of his hips before she could even think of a response.

He didn’t even try to go slow, instead immediately setting a relentless pace that left her panting, but she didn’t mind. Every choked sound and breathless moan were swallowed by his kiss, their tongues swirling together. Her hands found their way into his hair, around his neck, down his back, and her nails scraped along his warm and slightly sweaty skin while he thrust into her, her hips rising to meet his.

Azriel’s own groans and whimpers were music to the ears, each of them bringing her closer to release. As if he knew her body well enough already, he seemed to sense it too, because his lips left hers to trail down her neck.

“That’s it, princess,” he praised. His clipped voice let her know he was probably trying to hold back his own impending orgasm. “Come for me.”

His shadows flew in the little space between their bodies to tease her clit, drawing a guttural groan from her. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before—cool against her hot skin, a barely-there touch that yet was enough to make her shudder and whine. But it was the uniqueness of it all that sent her toppling over the edge.

A loud cry broke from her as her vision blurred and her body tensed, her nails slightly digging into Azriel’s back while he slowed his thrusts to draw out her pleasure. But he soon resumed his punishing pace, his hips slamming into hers almost frantically, the sound of skin on skin filling the small room as he chased his own release.

She choked out his name right as he stilled, hot spurts of cum filling her, his last few moans muffled when she pulled him in for another desperate kiss.

They were both panting by the time they broke apart, but neither of them tried to move. Azriel still lay buried deep inside her, and simply rested his forehead against hers, a smile on his lips that mirrored her own.

Despite his heavy breaths, his brows raised as he asked playfully, “So was the wait worth it?”

“It was,” she answered with a chuckle. Her hands came up to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “You certainly know what you’re doing, shadowsinger.”

Wrong words.

“Is that so?” His grin only widened, and he gave another roll of his hips that dragged a groan from the back of her throat.

She slapped him on the shoulder, but her smile matched his. “Smug ass.”

Azriel's soft laugh tickled her cheek as he kissed it. Slowly, he pulled out of her, leaving her with a feeling of emptiness.

Not ready to let him go just yet, she curled up in his arms as soon as he lay down next to her. Azriel immediately embraced her, holding her close to his chest, their legs tangled.

A comfortable silence settled over them as they bathed in the afterglow of sex, interrupted only by their soft breathing and the blizzard still raging outside.

As the minutes passed, Y/N struggled to keep her eyes open, but she had always wanted to trace the swirling lines of Azriel's tattoos, and now she had her chance. Her fingers danced along the Illyrian design, following the pattern from his neck to his arm, then lingering a bit longer on his sculpted pecs and feeling the muscle beneath her fingertips. His heart was beating fast, pounding in his chest.

“Can you promise me something?”

She glanced up at him, his eyes already fixed on her. The corner of her lips twitched upwards. “Depends on what it is.”

Azriel was silent for a long moment before he spoke again with a new seriousness in his tone. “Promise me that we’ll give this a chance. That we’ll give… us a chance.”

Her fingers halted their roaming, her heart skipped a bit, and a part of her whispered that she had heard that wrong, that she had misunderstood. No way he was actually asking her what she thought he was asking her, despite just having had sex.

She had to swallow the lump in her throat to be able to murmur, “Do you mean that?”

Azriel's eyes softened, like he knew she was even more vulnerable now than while they were fucking, and that whether her heart broke or not depended entirely on his answer.

“I’ve waited for this for a long time too, Y/N,” he said gently, cupping her cheeks to look right into her eyes. “I don’t want just this one night with you. I want all the nights you’ll give me.”

Y/N smiled then, so bright it could have lit up the whole room. She wanted to kiss him senseless, to hold him tight and never let go. And nothing was stopping her anymore, she realized, so she did just that.

She showered his face with tiny kisses. Every beautiful inch, from his nose to his jawline, from his eyebrow to his chin. Azriel's arms wrapped around her middle to pull her closer, and she relented her assault only when he chuckled.

Their eyes met again, and she knew there was no turning back now. But she would never turn back now.

“I’ll give you all the nights in the world, Az,” she finally said once the burst of joy subsided. “And the days, too. I'll give you anything you want.”

His smile was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was wider than ever before and the urge to touch his small dimples rushed through her—dimples she'd never known he had, but that she'd do anything to see again.

When he kissed her, it was slow yet passionate, gentle yet desperate, their breaths mingling, their hands caressing cheeks and running through hair.

“You're the only thing I want,” Azriel murmured once their lips parted. “Every night and every day. I want only you.”

Those were probably the most beautiful words she'd ever heard. Not even in her dreams did she imagine he would say them. Dwelling on what it would be like to share moments of passion was one thing, but this…

She moved to straddle him, mindful of his wings splayed out beneath him. She wanted to run her fingers down their length, and hopefully, sooner rather than later, she might get to do just that.

“Then I hope you're not too tired, shadowsinger.” She leaned down to trail kisses along his tattoo, but her eyes never left his. “Because you can't say something like that without expecting me to fuck you again.”

His hands tightened their grip on her thighs, her words enough to ignite the fire in him once more. “I'm yours, princess. We have all night.”

“All the nights,” she corrected him with a grin, already grinding on him. “And all the days.”

Maybe they would be facing the rebels with sore bodies, after all.

Tags: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover

(If I accidentally added someone who wanted to be tagged only in part 3 of A Helping Hand and not the general tag list, please let me know and I'll fix it)

[luveline]

your bombshell!reader x spencer is feeding me so well, i'm obsessed!! SJSJS since we've seen reader jealous, is it possible to have a fic where it's spencer that's jealous?

thank u!! fem!reader

Your outfit today is simple. Pencil skirt, dark stockings, hair pristine. The thing that catches Spencer's attention, holds it between two squeezing palms, is the shirt and blazer ensemble you've styled. It's cut to fit, sleek and dark and hard to look away from. 

You brush past the back of Hotch's chair with a sigh, clearly unaware of the attention you're garnering from across the way. “What's wrong with him?” you ask. 

“The same thing as usual,” Hotch says. 

“It's not like we've ever instantly solved a case. Gideon knows this takes time.”

Elle pokes her tongue into her cheek, eyes flared wide. She says a lot without saying anything, flicking through the police files in front of her dispassionately.

“How come you stayed?”

It takes Spencer a moment to realise you're talking to him. “What?” 

“You didn't go with Gideon?” You hold your chin in your hand. “Not getting along anymore?” 

Spencer isn't not getting along with his mentor. He would've accompanied Gideon to meet with a past mass murderer, only you're here, and so he'd found unrelated reasons to stay. 

“We're fine,” Spencer says, not wanting to say more and give himself away. 

“Well, he took Morgan.” You pout, your voice dripping to a wistful whine. “What am I gonna do now without him? None of you guys ever wanna play with me.” 

Hotch smiles to himself. Spencer's stomach ties itself in knots, a tight noose that grows tighter still when you notice his expression and lean in toward your superior. “What's that smile for, Hotchner?” 

“Don't you have emails to look through?”  

You hold your cheek in your hand lightly, fingertips digging into the soft of your cheek. Your smile is like a kick to the chest, achingly sweet on such a pretty face. “No…” Your pinky digs into the corner of your mouth. “I don't remember that being on my agenda today.” 

“Consider it an addition.” 

Is Hotch flirting back? Spencer isn't sure why that strikes him so hard. Maybe because Hotch would actually have a chance with you if he wanted it; your flirting with Hotch is more real than if it were with Spencer, because Spencer is a twenty-something know-it-all who still dresses like his mom buys his clothes. 

“It's a lot of emails, boss,” you say. 

“You have time. Start with the ones sent by Hughes and work your way down.” Hotch slides the login information across the desk into your reach. 

You look at it unhappily. Look up at him. 

Just being looked at by you is a full body experience. Whenever you look at him, he begs himself to play it cool as Hotch is now, to treat it as the affectionate playfulness of a friend rather than serious flirting. He'd have a better chance of being taken seriously by you if he didn't blush whenever you so much as breathed in the same room. 

He wishes he could respond calmly like Hotch. (He wishes you'd flirt with him and him alone. He buries that deep.) 

Envy eats at his hands. Pins and needles he tries to shake away. His movements draw your attention, and your smile worsens, which is to say sweetens, like seeing him again is a treat for the eyes. 

“You'll help me, won't you, baby?” you ask.

He goes a little blind. 

Hotch and Elle watch the encounter with similar parts pity and amusement. 

“You can read through them so quickly, I could really use your…” —you drag your fingertips down your face until your nails are at your jaw— “expertise.” 

“Reid has his own tasks–” 

“I can help,” Spencer interrupts. 

You drop your hand from your face altogether. “Thank you. Have I mentioned how much I missed you while I was away?” 

“Only five times,” Elle says under her breath. 

“They try so very hard to keep us apart. It's not fair.” 

Because unlike Reid, you don't have multiple degrees. You're still learning, and you can't be here permanently, but your talent, your knack for profiling, is unignorable. You're guaranteed a place on the team as soon as you can prove yourself to Strauss. Without a Gideon to vouch for you, that could take a while, and yet you're never jealous of Spencer skipping a few hurdles to get here. 

If anything, you admire him. “They don't understand our bond, that's all. And together we're hard to beat. Isn't that right, Spence?” 

Perhaps Spencer shouldn't be jealous. You don't call Hotch by anything so saccharine, after all. 

[porcalinecunt]

𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋. ♡

🎀 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ thinking about aot men who’d be the softest doms ever . . .

·˚ ◌༘͙[featuring] ! ˊ 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍, 𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇, 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍, 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐓

cw — fem!reader. size kink (erwin) body worship (jean, levi) praise kink. lots of breedings. edging, fingering, some nipple play (levi) sub!armin (implied)

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ author’s note! : hi hi! it’s been a while since i made an actual post here. apologies! life got busy, but i finally have time to make fics again :D there might be some changes on this account but we’ll see! anyways, please enjoy and feedback is welcomed! 🤍

➸ jean kirstien.

he’s already so much of a sweetheart, so it’s not shock he’s carry that to the bedroom. he’s needy but slow, as it’d be way too easy to accidentally hurt you. the size difference aroused yet made him a bit nervous. (the first time was quite a hassle!) nonetheless, jean gave you the fuckin’ princess treatment every time the both of you would get intimate. kissing every inch of your body while caressing your hips with his large hands. he’d gently lay your down, not pulling away from the sloppy kiss the two of you are engaging in. did i mention that this man is huge? he adores watching you struggle to take him completely, squirming and whining as he stretches your smaller cunny inch by inch.

“j-jean..’s too big!” you whined, watching through glassy eyes as your boyfriend hovered over you, sinking himself deeper and deeper into your weeping cunt. your legs twitch in a failing attempt to keep them open, something jean would immediately notice. “does it hurt babe?” he asked in a groan, hazel eyes carving holes into yours through hooded lids. you could only shake your head as he took it as a confirmation to bottom himself out. your eyes rolled to your brain and your jaw went slack as jean watched in awe. “look at you..taking it so well f’me.” he sighed, slowly beginning to pump you full as ecstasy filled your senses. the only thing you could hear were jean’s sweet praises, telling you how much of a good little girl you were for taking him so well and patiently. your head grew hot as the feeling of his dick stuffing you full began to overwhelm you. “good little girl, always taking my dick so well..fuck you’re so cute!”

➸ erwin smith.

oh my god. erwin. what more can i say, he’s a gentleman in bed! anything you ask for, he will do without hesitation. want him to knock you up? done. want some head? he’s already on his knees. sad after a rough day? he’ll stuff your cunny full until your filled n happy. anything your heart desires, he’ll give it to you with all the adoration he has for you. ♡ even better when you realize how big he is. how he can easily pick you up and fuck you silly in mid air if he really wanted to. even better, how massive his fucking dick is, enough to make your mouth water just by the thought of it.

“e-erwin!” you whined, watching your husband’s face as he stared down at you. a gaze full of softness and love, a stark contrast to how he was treating you. a smile to his wife while fucking her slutty pussy like an attention deprived whore. “how did i get so lucky? what did i do to deserve such a beautiful girl as my wife..” he breathily chuckled, fucking into you at a slightly faster pace. erwin started down at you, from your flustered smile to your breasts and stuffed cunt, every last detail on you brought him closer to the edge. “good girl..my good girl. you deserve every inch i give you..”

➸ levi ackerman.

contrary to popular belief, levi isn’t the mean and rough dom many make him out to be (still adore that levi tho!) but rather, a gentle and passionate type of dom. he’s not the most romantic, but oh boy, when he is..buckle up. this man will treat you like your his final meal on death row, savoring every inch of flesh you have on your body. kissing you from your lips to your clit, muttering sweet nothings while pumping his slender fingers inside your cunny. he sings his praises when he’s balls deep in you, calling you names like ‘princess’ and ‘darling’, anything that fills your stomach with butterflies if its not his cock. your legs are already trembling from his voice alone, not helping the fact his groans are fuckin’ perfection.

“settle down princess, i barely did a thing.” levi carassed your breast with one hand while finger fucking you with the other. all he needed was two fingers and his wrist as he flicked it with a quickened pace that almost forced your thighs shut from shock and pleasure. while your mouth was closed, tiny whines still manage to spill through as your husband’s thumb moved it’s way to your clit, adding to the overstimulation. with his other hand, he tugged and played with your nipple while letting go just to take a gentle squeeze to your whole breast. you’re thighs shook as your orgasms reaches closer and you grabbed the coller of levi’s loose shirt for support. “‘s becoming too much princess? you wanna cum all over my fingers?” he spoke in a gentle and low tone, making you nod eagerly to his question. “How cute, shit—if only I could do this everyday.”

➸ armin arlot.

armin armin armeeen! <3 you already know what kind of man he is. his partner’s pleasure is a priority he takes very seriously, from letting you choose the position to making sure you orgasm first before he spills his seed inside you. he gives you princess treatment even after sex, not letting up until you knock out from exhaustion. he fucks you like your a goddess, hitting every sensitive spot in your while singing his praises. he wants, no, needs to see you cum around his cock as it’ll make the night worth it. he won’t lie, seeing you whimpering and shamelessly getting off to him servicing you never fails to push him over the edge and nearly fuck a baby in you. this man is a keeper!

“t-this good enough for you..?” armin sighed, watching you take in his dick inch by inch until you’ve completely sat down on it. “y-yeah..fuck you’re huge..!” you whined out, grabbed his thighs and trying your best to move while the overwhelming pleasure had you shaking. the blonde placed his hands on the plush of your hips, firmly holding it as he lifted you up from his cock before slamming you back down on it. a yelp tore from your throat, nails digging into the flesh of his thigh and your eyes screwed shut from the sharp pleasure. “right there! armin fuck..!” you mewl as he guided your hips, slamming his cock in and out of you at the pace you desired the most. his blue eyes peered through his bangs as he grew redder and redder from the expression you wore so beautifully. mouth parted open in an ‘o’ shape with slightly arched eyebrows, pink washed over your face with red sitting right on your cheeks. fuck, he was insatiable. “yes..just like that love, just like you wanted. always taking it like the good girl you are. ♡”

© porcalinecunt 💌 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[wafflefries13]

Home is Where Our Heart Is (Yandere Twisted Wonderland X Reader)

Summary: There's a rumor going around that Crowley found a way to send you back to your original world, and, well, the boys aren't taking the news well.

AN: First time writing yandere stuff. I originally wanted to have this out near Halloween to keep with scary stuff, but as long as it gets done eventually, right?

Cros-posted on my AO3 TheGhostInTheKitchen

Warnings: Can be read as romantic or platonic, possessive and obsessive behavior, spying, conspiring to poison, fighting - physical and verbal, AFAB reader with she/her pronouns.

“There’s something important I want to tell you guys,” (Y/N) said. 

Ace and Deuce lifted their heads to look at her. The four of them, (Y/N), Grim, Ace, and Deuce, were all huddled together on the floor of the alchemy classroom, heads bent low as they worked on untangling long threads of manticore mane hair, the most recent punishment from Professor Crewel for some misdemeanor they probably deserved but still complained about. 

“What’s up?” Ace asked. He grinned wickedly. “Did you fall through another rotten part of the floor at Ramshackle and need saving again?” 

(Y/N) scowled as she swatted him with the back of her hand, without any real malice behind it. “No, and shut up. Maybe I won’t tell you.” 

“Ignore him,” Deuce said, picking at a particularly stubborn knot. “What’s up?” 

(Y/N) hesitated. “Actually, now might not be the best time.” 

“Is it that thing you were talking to Crowley about?” Grim asked, gnawing at the hair. “Pah! Gross.” 

“Keep that out of your mouth, you don’t know where it’s been. And yeah, that. Now that I’m thinking about it, though, it might just be easier to tell everyone all at once.” 

Ace and Deuce looked at each other. “Everything okay?” Deuce asked slowly. 

(Y/N) shook her head. “Oh, yeah, fine. Just kind of important, I think. And I’d rather do it all at once. Sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned anything. Actually, I think I’m going to have a big dinner this weekend, invite everyone over. Ease the blow, maybe.” She chuckled mirthlessly at a joke only she knew. 

Ace and Deuce looked at each other again, jaws tense and rising panic building behind their eyes. Their minds raced in tandem, putting together the puzzle pieces of the piecemeal information (Y/N) had told them. Something important involving Crowley, something she would want to keep on the down low until she was able to confront everyone at the same time. The Headmage himself didn’t really seem to carry especially important information. Considering all the work and responsibilities he dumped on (Y/N), they often wondered what exactly he even did at Night Raven College. But there was one thing he had supposedly been focused on since the beginning of the school year: finding a way to send (Y/N) back to her original world. But that couldn’t be it, right? There was no way the bird brain had actually mastered interdimensional magical travel, right? And, even if he had, there was no way (Y/N) was actually just going to up and leave, right? 

Right? 

The room was quiet for just a beat too long as the two Heartsabyul first years communicated silently. (Y/N) looked back up, her eyebrows scrunched together in worry. She opened her mouth to say something, but Ace cut her off with his signature troublemaker smirk and said, “Ooh, so mysterious. You sure you don’t need saving again? You have that bad habit of throwing yourself in danger every chance you get.” 

With that, the tension was broken. (Y/N) swatted at Ace again, laughing. They chatted aimlessly as they continued their tedious work. But, the moment (Y/N) lowered her head to pull tangled hair from Grim’s claws, Ace and Deuce looked at each other again, faces set and serious. An agreement passed between them. They were going to need help. 

~~~

“But did she say she was leaving?” Jack asked, voice tight but trying to remain calm. 

Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho, and Sebek were in the quad near the wishing well. Other students milled around, going to clubs or studying, their voices drifting meaninglessly around the small group. Epel was pacing, fists balled at his sides, gnawing at his lower lip. Ortho stared, unmoving in that way that reminded people that he was in fact made of metal and wires and not flesh and blood. Sebek was standing soldier straight with his chin up. His mouth was pulled down in a frown, but that was so often his standard expression that only someone who knew him well would be able to see the actual distress on his face. Jack’s foot tapped restlessly, hands clasped together so tight his knuckles were turning bloodless. 

“No,” Deuce said. “Not specifically. But what else would she be talking about, you know? We don’t keep secrets from each other.” 

“But we don’t know anything for certain,” Jack said. “Maybe we-” 

“This is bullshit!” Epel shouted. Several students walking by startled, hurrying away with their heads down. His accent came out strong. “She’s just gonna up and leave? After everything? Everything we’ve done and been through? Did none of it matter? Does she not even care about us?” 

Deuce winced. “I mean, I guess she misses home-” 

“We’re her home!” Ace hissed. “Epel’s right. She doesn't belong back there, whatever that place is.” Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair and tugging. “Well, what are we supposed to do? Keep her here?” 

“That’s not a bad idea,” Sebek said. The others turned to him. He was looking off in the distance, eyes unfocused. When he felt their gaze, he turned back to them, blinking twice and clearing his throat. “Ahem, I only mean that Lord Malleus has grown rather fond of (Y/N) these past few months, for whatever reason. As his retainer, I couldn’t bear his distress if such a close friend were to vanish with no way of contacting them.” 

“Lord Malleus,” Ace said. “Sure.” 

“I would anticipate that the Prefect's absence would cause a rise of at least 75% in stress levels at Night Raven College. Accompanying this would also be an increased chance of Overblot by a minimum of 35%.” Ortho put a hand to his temple as his eyes flashed with calculations. “40%. 43%. 50%. 60%.” 

“Right, right, we get it,” Epel said. 

“Alright, we just need to think this through for a second,” Deuce said, standing and holding up his hands. “We can just explain, right? (Y/N)’s a good person, she’ll hear us out. We’ll just explain why we’re worried and, and…” 

“And what?” Epel said. “You think we can somehow convince her to stay here?” 

“Prefect (Y/N) technically doesn't exist in this world,” Ortho said. “She has no records outside of Night Raven College, no citizenship or birth certificate. Outside of the Night Raven College campus, she’s not even a ghost.” 

“So,” Sebek said, eyes going glazed over again. “It would be simple for her to disappear from the rest of the world.” 

A heavy silence fell over them. Immediately, everyone’s mind went to the same place, formulating a plan with the same end goal. Their hearts began racing as they started conjuring up ideas and methods of execution, solutions for technical problems that might arise. (Y/N)’s  reaction to these plans didn’t particularly matter at the moment. After all, it would all be worth it in the end, right? 

“Okay, wait, hang on,” Jack said, trying to quiet his racing thoughts and the dark places they were going. “We - we need to think this through. It’s not like we can just kidnap her or anything.” “You’re right,” Deuce said. “We’ll need help. If we want to pull this off we need resources.” 

“We’ll need people to back us up,” Ace agreed. “Getting her somewhere in the first place is the easy part, but we wouldn’t want to scare her for too long, you know? If we can convince her we know best it’d be easier in the long run, right?” 

“Lord Malleus has access to many fine manors in the Briar Valley,” Sebek said. 

“All the way to the Briar Valley?” Epel said. “Isn’t that place still hostile against humans? We can go to Harveston, it’s in the middle of the mountains. My uncle has a hunting lodge out there, it’d be perfect.” 

“The Isle of Woe is also an isolated location,” Ortho said. “And it would be much easier to keep (Y/N) under surveillance.” 

“Wait!” The others went silent, watching Jack. 

“Jack,” Ace said. “We’re either all in this together or not at all. Come on, how many times have we needed to save (Y/N)? How many times has she had to save us?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Would you really be okay with never seeing her again?” 

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, eyes shut tight. They waited with bated breath for him to speak. Finally, he sighed. “Leona has resources. He has people, power, money. And I know he would want to know about this too. We’ll need other people to help with this. If she just suddenly vanished without warning I can think of several people who would look into it. And if they find out we planned something without them it would just make things more difficult.” 

The others smiled, relieved that one of the hardest people to convince was unequivocally on board. 

“Okay, so,” Ace said, clapping his hands. “We need a plan. Anyone have a good idea?” 

The others were quiet, the holes in their initial imagination growing bigger and bigger. 

“Well, no,” Deuce said. “But I know someone who might.” 

~~~

The atmosphere in Octavinelle always walked the tightrope between cool and calming and cutthroat and calculating, but maybe that had more to do with the first year's previous experience than the actual building. 

“Well, well, well,” Azul said smugly, leaning back in the plush chair in his office. “I didn’t expect to see you both back here so soon.” 

Ace and Deuce squirmed in their seats, trying, and failing, to look nonplussed by the looming Jade and Floyd. 

“Of course,” Azul continued. “I’m more than happy to assist any poor, unfortunate soul who should need my help. For the right price, of course. But, well, we’ve been through so much together, I’ll even give you a discount! What can the Monstro Lounge do for you today, boys?” 

Ace cleared his throat, warily eyeing Floyd’s wide grin. “Actually, there’s something we could do for you.” 

Azul raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh? Do tell.” 

“We think (Y/N) is going back to her world,” Deuce spit out, cracking under pressure. “We have a plan, well, kind of a plan, we’re coming up with ideas, but we know she’d be better here, happier here, we just need time to convince her, you know? So we, Ace and me and the other first years, we’re wanting to keep her here, maybe not at NRC but somewhere, until we can convince her, make her see reason. And we thought, we know you guys like her too so we thought you would want to help or-” 

“Shrimpy’s leaving?” Floyd said. His face was scrunched in confusion. Even Jade looked surprised, wide eyes and hand curled in front of his mouth. Azul had visibly paled, so much so that they worried he might faint. 

“I-” Azul’s voice cracked.

“That’s quite the rumor,” Jade said, covering for Azul. “I could see it being very damaging if it was spread around in malice.” 

“It’s not a rumor,” Ace said. “She basically told us yesterday.” 

“Shrimpy’s leaving?” Floyd repeated. His face flashed from confusion to hurt to anger. Without a word, he snapped up, stalking to the door. He threw it open so hard it cracked against the wall leaving an indent from the knob in the plaster. 

“Floyd!” Jade called after him. 

“No!” The other twin snapped. He barreled through the Mostro Lounge, patrons and waiters jumping out of his way with wide and appropriately afraid eyes. 

“Floyd, wait!”

“No!” 

The others caught up with Floyd halfway to the mirror portal to the main campus. Jade caught Floyd by the elbow, ducking in a practiced way when Floyd’s other elbow swung back. 

“No!” Floyd shouted again. “She’s not leaving! You’re lying!”

“See?” Ace said, waving his hand in Floyd’s direction. “You don’t want her to leave either! But no one’s going to like it if you just go up there and start freaking her out!” 

“We’re telling everyone,” Deuce continued. “Well, not everyone, but the people important, you know? We’re planning a meeting to figure this out. We can’t let (Y/N) leave. We can’t.” 

Floyd had calmed down enough that there wasn’t an immediate danger of a fight, but he was still seething. Jade still kept a tight grip on his brother’s arm, but it was more to anchor himself than keep Floyd from sprinting away again. 

“A plan,” Azul said. “You need a plan. Or, perhaps, a certain magical way to prevent (Y/N) from doing something… inadvisable.” 

“Yes, exactly,” Deuce said.

“We know it might be hard to get (Y/N) to sign one of your contracts given what’s happened before,” Ace said, giving Azul the side eye. 

“But we need every resource we can pull together,” Deuce finished. “We’re setting up a meeting tomorrow. We can count on you guys being there, right?” 

The three merpeople looked at each other. Unspoken conversation passed between them, the benefit of having known each other for the majority of their lives. 

“I’ll start drafting a contract immediately,” Azul said, golden light flourishing around his hand as he kicked up his signature spell. 

“I do believe there are certain species of mushroom in the nearby forest that could induce temporary paralysis,” Jade said, smiling slyly. “It might be worth it to have the Mountain Lovers Club take an unplanned execution.” 

“Hey, if nothing else,” Floyd said. “I’d love to give Shrimpy a big squeeze.” 

~~~

A pair of Pomefiore students were walking down the hall of their dorm, mindlessly chatting. They both froze as they heard a scream, followed by a loud crash. They crept to one of the sitting rooms, nudging the door open just enough to peek inside. 

Vil, their fearless, elegant, always poised house warden screamed again. He picked up a vase, at least one hundred years old and filled with beautiful hard to cultivate lilies, and threw it against the wall, shattering into a thousand pieces. Reclining in one of the plush purple velvet chairs was the vice house warden Rook. His posture didn’t betray any concern or stress at Vil’s outburst, but the smile stretched across his face caused shivers to run down the spines of the two observers. Rook was tightly holding an arrow, his quiver at his side, tapping the sharper than usual point. Epel stood off to one side. He was hunched over, something that usually would have earned a scolding from Vil. He was carving an apple with single-minded determination, stabbing the soft flesh and discarding pieces with a flick of the wrist. Somehow, the stillness from the rambunctious farm boy who would jump at any chance to throw down was even more intimidating than if he was coming at them fists swinging. 

The two students looked at each other before quietly closing the door behind them and rushing from the scene. Knowing the penchant for chaos NRC students had, whatever was going on was way beyond their pay grade. 

Vil roared again, unending a long coffee table. It flipped twice before landing upside down, the papers and decorations on top fluttering in disarray. Vil took heaving breaths, facing a vanity on one side of the room, tightly gripping its sides as his nails carved tiny divots into the soft wood. He took one last deep breath, straightening and smoothing out his hair. He turned around, only a slight red flush any indication he was in distress. 

“Alright,” He said. “Rook, my book.” 

Rook jumped up, retrieving an intricately decorated purple and gold tome from where it had fallen. He handed it to Vil like a supplicant offering a sacrifice to a vengeful god, head slightly bowed and hands outstretched. 

“What are you looking for?” Epel asked. 

“I’ll know when I see it,” Vil said, not looking up. He flipped through the vellum pages. “A sleeping potion would be a temporary solution, at least as an easy way to secure her to another place. An Iron Stake spell is a possibility, but that would only secure her to one specific place and cause illness if she left the designated area, so that would be too restrictive. A potion to induce Hanahaki. If we can convince her she has a magical based illness, then she would need to stay somewhere she could receive magical treatment.”  

“We were wanting to gather everyone in one place,” Epel said. “To come up with ideas.” 

Vil scoffed. “As if half of those fools can even look farther than their own nose. I don’t trust anyone else to treat this issue with the delicate hand it needs.” 

“Perhaps,” Rook said smoothly. “But we must consider that our dear Trickster has made a place in the hearts of many others. And while your methods would obviously be far superior and much more beautiful, we can’t discount the interference of well meaning interlopers.” Rook gave Epel a wink as he skillfully directed Vil into cooperation. 

“Hmm,” Vil hummed, snapping the book shut. “Unfortunately, you have a point. Very well. Epel, we will attend this conclave. If nothing else than to emphasize that we know what’s best for (Y/N), despite what those uncultured miscreants might think.” 

Epel set his apple down, stabbing his knife upright. He grinned wickedly. “Absolutely, House Warden.” 

~~~

Jamil was cooking. Which, in itself, wasn’t that unusual. Jamil cooked all the time. Special meals for Kalim to ensure nothing was tampered with, feasts for the almost weekly Scarabia parties, just to have something other than the repetitive cafeteria fair. But whatever Jamil was doing now caused the gathered Scarabia students to stay out of the kitchen, watching in concern from their hiding places around the door. 

Jamil was staring straight ahead, not paying attention to the incredibly sharp knife in his hand. He methodically chopped fruits and vegetables, not paying any attention that they were already in minuscule cubes, juices dripping down the counter to pool at his feet. A pot on the stove was close to boiling over. Even the fridge had been left open, cold air escaping into the warm room. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Kalim asked, seeing his dorm mates crowded around the kitchen entrance. He sniffed the air and smiled. “Ooh, Jamil is cooking something good! Are you all waiting for it to be ready?” 

“Uh, House Warden?” One of the students said tentatively. “I think you should check on Vice House Warden Jamil. He seems…” 

“Stressed?” Someone offered. 

“Distracted,” Another said. 

“About to Overblot again,” A third muttered under their breath. The boys around him shushed him. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll see what’s up!” Kalim said cheerfully. He waved them away, coming into the kitchen with the same happy-go-lucky free spirit he did everything with, not noticing the warry looks the departing students gave him. “Jamil!” He greeted, slapping Jamil’s shoulder. “What’s up?” 

Jamil barely flinched, still looking at something in the far distance only he could see. “(Y/N) is leaving.” 

“Hmm? Do we have a vacation coming up?” 

“No, she’s leaving.” 

Kalim’s smile started to falter. “Is she transferring or something? Like to Nobel Bell College?” 

“No.” Jamil slammed the knife down, lodging in the cutting board. “She’s leaving. Leaving Night Raven College, leaving Sage’s Island, leaving Twisted Wonderland, leaving m-” He cut himself off. With a sharp pull, he yanked the knife out of the board, sliding over a sweet potato to dice. “She’s going back to her world. Crowley must have found a way. Ace and Floyd told me at basketball practice today. They’re organizing some sort of meeting with the others to talk about it. Whatever good that will do.” 

“Oh.” Kalim blinked, thinking. “That… would be bad.” 

Jamil laughed dourly. “That’s an understatement.” 

Kamil smiled again. “Well, that’s fine. You can fix that easy, right?” Jamil stopped, turning to Kalim with a quizzical look. Kalim tapped his temple next to his eye. “You know, with your unique magic! You can just tell her not to leave, like you did with me.” He didn’t say it with any malice, not blaming Jamil for their past misadventure. 

“I…” 

“Oh, come on,” Kalim said, jumping up and coming over to Jamil, leaning against the counter and plucking at the desiccated food. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think of it. I know Snake Whisper doesn't last for too long, but if we bring her to one of the Asim chateaus, you know, maybe in the middle of the Scalding Sands desert, you can just recast it whenever, right? Oh, unless that wears you out too much. I bet we can find another way to keep her around while you recover though!” Kalim popped a date in his mouth nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just suggested kidnapping and hypnotizing their friend for an undetermined period of time. 

“You…” Jamil started, trailing off. He laughed, shaking his head. He turned down the stove on the boiling pot, scrapping the chopped vegetables into a bowl, and kicked the fridge door closed. “Well, if I have your permission, then who am I to argue?” 

Kalim just smiled, eating another date. 

~~~ 

Idia was typing so fast his hands were practically a blur. On his multi-monitor computer setup, footage from the multiple hidden cameras around campus zoomed by as he searched for specific information. He gnawed on his thumb nail. 

“And you’re sure she said that?” He asked Ortho, resting in his charging station. “The Bird Brain found a way for her to go back-” He almost said ‘home,’ but that word didn’t feel right when talking about you. This was your home now, right? It was. It had to be. “Back to her original world?” 

“Prefect (Y/N) was speaking to Ace Trapolla and Deuce Spade, so I didn’t hear her exact wording or was able to monitor her vitals for evidence of deception,” Ortho said. “But she had invited us and the others involved in the various Overblot incidents to dinner this Saturday, which aligns with the announcement they said she wanted to make.” 

Idia kept clicking, following (Y/N)’s movements the day before she dropped a bombshell on Ace and Deuce. The world sped by at 10x speed on the screen. Idia’s hair sparked with red and orange as his concern, rage, and betrayal simmered underneath the surface. 

He slowed the replay speed down as (Y/N) approached the Headmage’s office, meeting Crowley outside the door. There wasn’t any audio, Idia cursed himself for not installing that feature ahead of time. (Y/N) indicated the office and Crowley held the doors open for her with a flourish. He cursed again that he hadn’t managed to sneak any cameras in the office. 

Idia sped up the footage again, scrambling when (Y/N) and Crowley left the office only a few minutes later. He would have thought a conversation about her possible return would have taken a lot longer. Crowley dramatically mimed wiping a tear from his masked eye, shaking her hand with both of his. As they were speaking, Professor Trein and Professor Crewel both walked up. Crowley waved them over, animatedly speaking to them, waving at (Y/N). Crewel patted her head while Trein gave her a warm smile and nod. Idia could just read Crewel’s lips as he said, “Good luck, pup.” 

‘Good luck’? Why would she need good luck? She had all the luck she needed if she stayed here. How else would you explain all of the incidents that had happened all year while still escaping unscathed? You would only lose that luck if you went somewhere else, somewhere far, too far, away. 

Idia bashed his hands against his keyboard, his fire-like hair engulfed in red, hitting the keys to pause the video. The video had stopped on a shot of her face, smiling, eyes crinkled at the corners, hand up in a silent goodbye. 

No, not goodbye. Not if he could help it. 

“Ortho,” Idia said. “Send a message to Mom and Dad. We’ll need a guest room set up.” 

~~~

“And you told Azul before me?!” Riddle raged. 

Ace and Deuce cringed back, subconsciously guarding their throats in case Riddle unleashed his unique magic. 

The two first years had corralled Riddle, Trey, and Cater in one of the tea rooms at the Heatslabyul dorm. While Riddle had already started the impromptu meeting annoyed, there were rules for setting an assembly, priorities quickly shifted. 

“Riddle,” Trey said, trying to keep his voice even and calm. “Would you want (Y/N) to see you like this?” 

Riddle flinched back at Trey’s statement. He forced his shoulders to relax, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “One, two, three,” He began counting. “What’s he doing?” Deuce whispered. 

“Counting,” Riddle said, voice still steely. “To try and calm my nerves so I don’t do something you’ll regret!” 

“Don’t you mean ‘something I’ll regret’?” Ace asked. Deuce glared at him. 

Riddle smiled coldly. “Yes, you will regret it.” 

“Cater?” Deuce asked. The ginger-haired boy was humming tunelessly, tapping on his phone what a vacant look on his face. “Are you okay?” 

“Of course,” Cater said. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Because (Y/N) might be leaving and we’ll never see or hear from her ever again?” 

Cater only stared at him, blinking, eyes lost in a thousand yard stare. He suddenly perked up. “Oh! That reminds me. (Y/N) and I were going to go to the Glass Slipper Gala this summer! It’s pretty much impossible to get tickets to the actual event, obvi, but there are all these side parties where people dress up for the theme that year. Totally Magicamable and sups adorbs.” He lifted his phone and took a selfie, retreating back into his own world as he kept tapping on the screen. 

“I… think he might be in denial,” Trey sighed. “It is a big change, I suppose.” 

“That’s what I’m saying,” Ace said, spreading his hands. “It doesn't have to be! When we meet up with everyone tomorrow night-” 

“Everyone?” Trey asked. “The more people involved in this, the more likely it is to get out of control. Especially with the, uh, strong personalities we have here.” 

“So,” Ace said. “That’s why we’re telling you guys now. We’re obviously the best people to handle this. Sure, we let the other dorms think they’re in control, but that’s only the first part of the plan. You got to appeal to their egos, you know? And after that…” 

“We swoop in with Heatslabuyl style and save the day!” Deuce finished. 

“We all know she likes us best, anyway,” Ace said, leaning back with a confident grin. “And if we ‘save’ her from whatever those guys have planned, say we need to lay low for a while…” 

“Then she not only depends on us,” Trey said, picking up the thread. “But she’ll also feel indebted to us.” 

“And if anyone else tries to swoop in and make a nuisance of themselves,” Riddle continued. “She’ll be hesitant to trust anyone from the outside.” 

“What’s that saying?” Deuce asked. “A gilded cage is still gilded?” 

“Not exactly,” Trey said. “But, I’ll admit, it has the making of a good plan.” 

Riddle humphed, hands on his hips. “Well, then, we don’t have very long. We need a strategy going into this meeting. Here,” He arranged parts of the tea set around the table, assigning each of them to one of their cabal. “We can use this to start visualizing a scenario.” 

“Maybe we can wear matching outfits,” Cater said dreamily, still off in his own world. 

~~~

Leona leaned back against the tree, crossing his arms behind his head, eyes closed. “So?” He said. His tail twitched restlessly beside him, the only sign of agitation. 

Jack frowned. “So? So (Y/N) might be leaving and never coming back. We have to do something about this.” 

“So, if she wants to go and throw away everything she has here, everyone who cares about her, everything she’s built, fine, go ahead. No skin off my nose.” 

Ruggie’s ears were flat back against his head. “You’re such a liar.” 

Leona cracked one eye open, glaring. “What was that?” 

Ruggie jumped to his feet, gnashing his teeth. “Don’t just sit there and pretend you don’t care! Don’t act like this isn’t your fault! You act so laissez-faire all the time, like you don’t care about anyone or anything. You just push people away, you’ve pushed her away! And now we’re all paying for your inferiority complex!” 

Leona lunged at Ruggie so fast Jack’s eyes couldn’t even track it. One second they were a yard apart, Leona pouting with not a care in the world, Ruggie standing, fists clenched tightly at his side. The next they were tumbling over each other, Ruggie snapping his teeth at Leona’s obviously superior strength as the House Warden held him down. Jack watched in shock, torn between wanting to pull them apart and respect for his seniors. 

Leona pushed Ruggie face first into the dirt. Ruggie still snarled, letting out short breathed barks like an angry cackle. Leona hefted him up by the back of his shirt, biting down hard on the scruff of Ruggie’s neck. Ruggie immediately went limp, like a rag doll in the hands of a petulant child. Leona dropped him, standing over his still body and huffing hard. 

“You,” He hissed. “Don’t get to challenge me. You don’t get to tell me how I’m meant to react. You have no idea how I feel, about her or anything else.” 

Ruggie looked over his shoulder, glaring daggers, but said nothing. 

“I-” Jack started. His voice caught in his throat in a lump at the withering look Leona gave him. “I told the others you would be able to help. No one is doubting you’re a good leader,” His eyes cut to Ruggie on the floor, who scowled but said nothing. “We all know it. We also all know you care a lot more than you pretend to.  You’re clever, an amazing strategist, and you have abilities and resources none of us could dream of. Be honest with yourself. After everything that’s happened, after your Overblot, would you really be fine with (Y/N) disappearing?” 

“And do you really want Malleus scooping her up? You know he will.” Ruggie mumbled. 

Leona stalked around the glade, ears back and tail thrashing. He ground his teeth, fangs cutting into his lower lip. He roared, hand striking out, claws raking across a tree to leave deep gashes. He huffed, straightening and turning around. With little effort, he picked Ruggie up by the back of his vest and set him on his feet. 

He looked at the two of them, face set in determination. “Alright. (Y/N)’s not going anywhere.” 

~~~

The sky around the Diasomnia dorm cracked with green lightning. Students ran for cover, dodging torrents of hail, sleet, and needle-like rain. Dark clouds swirled around the spiky towers of the dorm, threatening to turn into tornados. 

Silver, Sebek, and Lilia trailed behind Malleus, futilely trying to catch up with his long strides. Lilia hopped up and quickly flew in front of the dragon prince.

“Now, just a moment, Malleus,” Lilia pleaded, hands up. 

Malleus evaporated in a cascade of green sparks, reappearing several feet behind Lilia, continuing his determined march without a pause in his step. Lilia sighed and rolled his eyes, catching back up with the two knights in training. 

“We don’t know for sure if she’s leaving,” Silver said, trying to act as a voice of reason. 

“What other conclusions would you draw from that?” Sebek snapped. “His majesty deserves to have every piece of available information to make the best decision for all involved.” 

“Which is why we need to slow down and think things through.” 

“Are you doubting Lord Malleus’s desition making skills in the time of crisis?” 

“She shall be kept in the highest room in the tallest tower deep in the heart of Briar Valley,” Malleus said, almost to himself.  “I’ll lock her in shackles of gold, give her a collar of diamonds and pearls, line her cage with velvet. No one shall take my child of man from my side, be it herself or any one else.” 

They looked at each other, quickening their step. 

Just as Malleus was reaching for the front door, ready to burst through to the mirror room, Lilia jumped in front of him, arms splayed wide. “Hold it!” He shouted. “Hold everything!” Malleus frowned, crossing his arms and glaring. Lilia put a hand to his chest, trying to catch his breath. “Honestly, I can’t keep up with you young ones anymore.” 

“I suggest you think carefully about what you say next, old man,” Malleus said coldly. 

“And I suggest you think carefully about the consequences of your actions, not to mention those around you. Really, do you think any of us want to see (Y/N) leave? Of course not. That’s why Sebek came to tell you in the first place. He trusts you enough to know you would be able to deftly handle the situation. And if you would stop to think for a moment, you would realize marching up to Ramshackle, spells blazing, would only create a rift between you and our dear Prefect, yes?” Malleus pressed his lips together, obviously still annoyed at the interruption, but understanding Lilia’s perspective. “As the future ruler of the Briar Valley, you need to learn how to handle matters with finesse as well as brutality. You don’t want to show (Y/N) a darker side of yourself, right? She already thinks the world of you, we all know that, don’t we, boys?” Lilia motioned Silver and Sebek, who nodded. “Simply telling her what you want and expecting no resistance might, well, damage her option of you, however misguided she might be.” 

“She is misguided,” Malleus said. “And a wayward subject needs a firm hand to direct them.” 

“But (Y/N) isn’t a subject,” Silver interjected. He had to stop himself from physically taking a step back at the sudden heat of Malleus’s gaze. “At least, not yet. It’s like… Frogs. Remember, Father?” 

“Frogs? Oh, yes! How clever, Silver!” Lilia said, clapping his hands. “If you put a frog in a pot of water and slowly turn up the heat underneath it, the frog won’t realize the water is boiling until it’s too late.” 

“So, acclimation?” Malleus said. 

“Exactly!” Sebek said. “That was our original plan! We keep her here just long enough to convince her this is the best place to be. And, of course, who wouldn’t want to stay in your glorious presents, Lord Malleus?”  

Lightning continued to crackle across the sky, but the deluge had reduced to a mild thunderstorm. 

“I will not lose her.” 

“Of course not! None of us want to, we would never dream of it!” Lilia said. 

Malleus closed his eyes in thought for a moment before turning to Silver and Sebek. He called their names and they stood at attention. “I have a list of ingredients I need before this… meeting. I trust you will be able to procure them for me quickly.” He manifested paper and a quill pen from the air, the list writing itself midair before tearing in half and splitting between the two knights. They left with a salute. 

As they went to search, Lilia hummed, floating next to Malleus. “That is quite the potion you want to brew.” 

“Reassurance and reinforcement,” Malleus said. “In case someone wants to try and make things difficult for us. After all, dragons are naturally jealous creatures.” 

~~~

They congregated in the House Warden’s meeting room under cover of night. It was all cloak and dagger, literally in some cases. Tensions were high, the atmosphere in the room could have been cut with a knife. The House Warden’s took their seats around the round table, the others standing dutifully behind them. 

Everyone looked at each other with suspicion. Why should they have any say with what happened to (Y/N)? They weren’t as close to her, didn’t deserve her as much as the other party. They would only hurt her in the end. ‘No, our plan is the best,’ Each group thought. Although they had originally arranged to create one master plan with every dorm involved, the meeting quickly descended into shouting voices, a cacophony of accusations, declarations, and split tensions. 

The din only subsided briefly when the door to the meeting room was opened. Sebek and Silver both held one door open for Malleus to stride through, looking for all the world like the crown prince he was. Lilia floated behind him, giving a small wave as they entered. 

“Oh, dear,” Lilia said. “I hope we’re not too late.” 

“Not at all,” Riddle said through clenched teeth. “We were just discussing what we should do at the dinner tomorrow when (Y/M) makes her announcement.” 

“There is no discussion,” Azul said. “We need to make a move before that! I’ve drafted a contract that would-” 

“Again with your contracts,” Jamil interrupted. “And how exactly are you planning on getting her to sign it? She’s not as easy to trick as some more gullible people.” 

“Hey!” Ace shouted. “Don’t act so high and mighty! Everyone on campus knows that we’re her best friends!” “That’s right!” Deuce said. “We only brought you all in as a courtesy. We should be the ones who decide what happens next!” 

Arguments broke out again, everyone talking over each other, spells aching to be slung. 

Malleus took his seat and watched the growing chaos. He swept his eyes over the tables, taking in the faces of all involved. For a moment, he was touched. You had truly ingrained yourself in the lives of everyone present in such a short amount of time. They were all willing to do so much for you, risk everything, all for your benefit. And you didn’t even realize it. 

But, of course, his love was the purest of them all.  

Cooly, Malleus plucked a vial from his front pocket, setting it on the table without a word. He leaned back in his chair, waiting for their reactions. As the participants took note of the new object, talk dwindled to silence. The air went still as every eye focused on the small bottle Malleus set on the table. It was no bigger than three inches tall, frosted glass, with a ball shaped stopper. A light pink liquid sloshing around inside, seeming to swirl completely independent of any outside influence. It glowed slightly, casting their astonished faces in a sickly sweet light. 

“A love potion?” Vil said breathlessly. 

“That is… highly illegal,” Riddle said. 

“I’m sorry,” Malleus said. “I thought we were looking for solutions.” 

“And besides,” Lilia added cooly. “Isn’t everything we’re discussing now highly illegal?” 

“Can you even call it illegal for a person who doesn't legally exist?” Jade thought out loud. 

“Hang on,” Leona said, standing. “A love potion would only work on the first person she sees after she drinks it. What are you trying to plan here, lizard?” 

Malleus looked down at Leona. “It would be best if she were to be with the one who is able to take the best care of her. Unless you’re suggesting you could do better?” 

“I think,” Vil interjected before Leona had a chance to start another fight. “What Leona is saying is that we all care deeply about (Y/N). That’s why we’re all here, isn’t it? And if she were to be, let’s say, connected to only one person, it might defeat the whole purpose of us coming together to find a solution to our mutual problem.” 

“If it’s the first person she sees,” Kalim said. “Well, we’ll all be together for dinner anyway, right? Is there a way we can have her see us all at the same time?” 

“If Prefect (Y/N) is standing at the head of the table,” Ortho said, holding his hands out to visualize the situation. “Then it is possible to have multiple people in her field of vision at the same time.” 

“Hang on,” Trey said. “I know we’re talking about essentially  kidnapping here, but isn’t a love potion a little extreme?” 

“Maybe we could consider that a last resort?” Idia said. “Especially since we’re already planning on trying to convince her to stay in other ways.” 

Malleus plucked up the vial and tucked it back into his pocket. “If that is the general consensus, I’ll agree for now.” 

“For now,” Leona echoes with a glare. Malleus smiled pleasantly at him. 

The introduction of the ultimate ultimatum seemed to cool tensions in the group. Eventually, a tentative agreement was reached. Of course, whether or not everyone would actually follow that agreement day of was up for debate. The factions retreated to their dorms, waiting for the next day with both trepidation and anxiety-riddled anticipation. 

~~~ 

(Y/N) felt like something was off. On the surface, everything was normal. Well, as normal as it could be for this particular group of magic students. Everyone seemed to be chatting pleasantly enough, sitting around a long table (Y/N) and Grim had pulled into the Ramshackle guestroom. But, the more she paid attention, the more stiff everyone came across. She felt like everyone was watching her, that there would be a group pause whenever she spoke. It made goosebumps spring up on her arms. 

She supposed it might have been a general reaction to her sudden invitation and the announcement she had said she wanted to make. She thought she should have found out a better way to tell everyone at once, maybe something that would have caused less stress. She had hoped that having good food and good company would make this less stressful, for her and them. But, possibly aside from Ruggie and Grim both scarfing down whatever they would get their hands on, almost everyone else seemed to be picking at their food. 

‘Well,’ She thought. ‘No time like the present.’ She stood, shivering a little when everyone’s head snapped in her direction. Even if she already had their attention, she still cleared her throat to prepare for her announcement. “Hello! First, I want to thank you all for coming! I know everyone values their day off, so I appreciate you all taking the time to come see me.I also wanted to say how much you all mean to me. I came here with nothing, no idea how I got here, no magic, obviously. And I’ll admit there have been some really intense and scary moments, but I’ve been able to get through everything thanks to all of you. And I wouldn’t want to be stuck here with anybody else. I’m so happy I got to meet you all.” At this, her voice cracked a little, eyes going misty. Grim jumped into her arms and she pulled him close in a tight hug. “Right, anyway, sorry, I’m getting sentimental. So, as I’m sure you all know, Crowley has been looking for a way for me to go back to my world since I came here. And the other day, well, I told him to stop. I’ve decided I’m going to stay here, in Twisted Wonderland. I know it will be hard, and to be honest, I’m not really sure how a lot of it will work out. But there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

All was silent, a spring coiled ready to snap. Then, Cater burst into tears. 

“Cater?” (Y/N) asked, worried. She rushed over to him and he slung his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug. 

“I-I thought-thought that you-” Cater tried to say through sobs. “I’m so happy!” 

And with that, the room relaxed. A collective breath was released as everyone finally seemed to come back to themselves. 

With the tension finally broken, (Y/N) felt her shoulders relax. She wasn’t totally sure what reaction she was going to get, it definitely wasn’t what she was expecting from Cater. For the past few days she felt a heavy miasma building over her, a sense of dread that kept building but she couldn’t find a source for. As she watched her friends chat, passing plates between each other, clinking glasses, she smiled. She should have known there wasn’t anything to worry about. After all, she had everyone here with her. She knew she could always trust them to have her back. 

After the party meandered to a close, (Y/N) made the rounds of saying goodnight to everyone as they got ready to leave. Although, as they might say in her world, it definitely felt like a ‘Minnesota long goodbye.’ Everyone was lingering, coming up with just one more thing to talk about, putting on coats only to take them off again, wondering out loud if she was really sure she didn’t need help cleaning up, and it was already dark out, would it maybe be easier if they just stayed the night? People seemed to linger tonight, an extra touch on her shoulder, a hug just a second longer than usual, a turn on phrase that hid something (Y/N) couldn’t see. But, considering the tense atmosphere at the beginning of their dinner, she tallied it up to whatever strange mood had taken her friends. 

(Y/N) puffed out a breath as Ace unexpectedly crashed into her back, throwing his arms around her to pull into a backward hug. “Geeze, (Y/N)” He whined without any real heat. “You sure know how to make something dramatic, huh? Got us worried something bad was happening for a while.” 

“Don’t be mean,” Deuce said. He smiled. “Seriously, we’re really glad you’re deciding to stay, though. You’ll let me know if you need any help, yeah?” 

“You’ll let us know,” Ace clarified. (Y/N) missed the glare that passed between them. “Speaking of, next time you - Ack!” Ace was cut off with a heart-shaped collar suddenly appearing around his neck, Deuce sporting a matching one, his eyes downcast and lip wobbling. 

“You’ll have to excuse us, (Y/N),” Riddle said, tugging at Ace’s collar. “These two are late for a lecture on causing unnecessary panic.” With Trey comforting a still misty-eyed Cater and Riddle dragging away the other two first years who waved goodbye with resigned compliance, they departed into the night. 

“Thanks for having us,” Jack said. Ruggie’s arms were piled high with plenty of Tupperware loaded with leftovers. Leona stood behind, trying to look disinterested, but keeping a sharp eye on anyone who tried to get too close to their conversation. 

“Of course! I’m glad you guys could come. I was just thinking - Oh, Ruggie!” (Y/N) gasped, reaching out for the red circular mark on the back of Ruggie’s neck. “Are you okay?” 

Ruggie’s hand shot up, covering what suspiciously looked like a bite mark. From over her shoulder, Leona shot him a glare that could turn a man to stone. 

“Oh, yeah, fine!” Ruggie said quickly. “Yeah, just-”

“Just doing something stupid,” Leona cut in. “That won’t be a problem in the future, right?” 

Ruggie’s ears went flat as he narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, you got it, House Warden.” 

(Y/N) opened her mouth to ask if everything was alright between them when Jack cut her off. “We’ll see you tomorrow, (Y/N). If you have any trouble now that you’ve decided to stay, you can always come to Savannahclaw first.” 

(Y/N) blinked at the sudden stoniness of Jack’s voice. “I’ll… Keep that in mind. Thanks, Jack.” 

As she waved them off she felt a familiar prickle at the back of her neck. With half a second to spare, she quickly sidestepped, dodging Floyd’s incoming hug. He stumbled a little bit, turning to glare, but the effect was ruined by the wide cheerful smile on his face. 

“Shrimpy~” He said in a singsong voice. “You’re not trying to escape me again, are you?” 

“Again?” She said. “What-” 

“What my brother means to say,” Jade said. “Is that we’re very happy we’ll continue to be blessed with your presents.” 

“Sure,” (Y/N) said. “I’m happy, too.” 

“And of course,” Azul continued smoothly. “If you happen to have any difficulties settling in, we would be more than happy to assist you. Why, I’d even be so inclined to offer our services at a discount! For old times sake.” 

“Or,” Jade said, slinging his arm around her shoulder. “You could just move to the bottom of the sea with us.” 

“You would get used to the cold,” Floyd said, wrapping his arm around her other shoulder. “We could just squeeze you real tight to keep you warm.” 

“Thanks for the offer, guys,” She said, shrugging out of their constricting embrace. 

“If you want to stay somewhere warm,” Kalim interrupted, grasping her arm and pulling her into him. “Why won’t you come to Silk City? I bet my family would love to meet you! Right, Jamil?” 

Jamil had an unfocused, faraway look in his eye, only snapping back when Kalim said his name. He moved to put himself between them and the Octavinelle trio. “Right,” He said. He tilted his head down, hair falling in a curtain to separate them from the rest of the room, Kalim’s hug tightened as his smile sharpened. Jamil met (Y/N)’s eyes. “(Y/N), look at me for a second. I-”

“(Y/N)!” She was yanked out of Kalim’s tightening constrictor hug into an equally smothering embrace, heady with the scent of lilac and apples. “There you are! I’m so happy to see you!” Epel continued. He was using that formal voice, pitched higher to emphasize his naturally cute appearance that Vil had been training him in. 

“Oui, mon trickster! We couldn’t bear to leave without complimenting what a wonderful party you put together!” Rook continued, snatching her out of Epel’s arms into his own.  (Y/N) was starting to get dizzy from being thrown in between people so much. As Rook took her full attention, Epel sneered at the Scarabia duo, sticking out his tongue before melting back into the perfect picture of polite sweetness. 

Vil interrupted (Y/N) getting smothered with a gentle but definitive touch on her shoulder. “I can’t tell you how pleased your decision makes me, (Y/N),” He said. (Y/N) sometimes forgot that outside of NRC, Vil was ranked as one of the most beautiful people in the world, a five-star actor and model. At this moment, with him looking down at her with every ounce of that carefully cultivated deminor, it took her breath away. She would have done almost anything he asked of her at that moment. Which was exactly what he was banking on. 

“I’d love for you to consider spending the summer in the Shaftlands with me. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to be all alone here on campus, and I could use an assistant during filming.” 

“Or,” Epel said sharply. “You can come with me to Harveston! We could always use a couple extra hands in the orchards. And you know my grandma would love to see you again. You liked it there the last time, right? She’d be so disappointed if she didn’t get to see you.” 

“The Hunt family always love visitors!” Rook added. 

“Thanks, guys,” (Y/N) said, twisting out of their grasp. They snatched at the air where she was, fixing their faces back to pleasant smiles when she turned to face them. “I appreciate it. I’m not really sure what it’s going to be like when the school year is over, but I’ll let you know!” 

“If you’re talking about traveling,” Ortho said, taking her hand and pulling her over to Idia who was stabbing at his tablet, eyes darting as she came over. “You can come with us! The Isle of Woe is unlike anywhere in the world! And we’ve got a ton of cool tech that Idia’s been working on, right, Idia?” 

Idia stuttered to life, pressing the tablet to his chest to hide the screen (Were those images of the rooms around Ramshackle?). “What? Oh, yeah, sure! It’ll be better than the last time, probably. I could probably convince Mom and Dad to get you an internship.” 

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think I’m half as smart enough to know anything about all that stuff you guys work with. It’s all sci-fi as far as I can tell. But I wouldn’t mind visiting, if that’s okay! I’d love to be able to explore everything when we’re not worrying about Overblot Phantoms. Uh, sorry.” 

“You shouldn’t have to apologize for something that’s true,” Sebek said, stepping up, shoulders back, hands clasped tightly behind him. He and Idia exchanged knife-sharp looks, Idia’s hair sparking red at the edges. Ortho quickly swooped in, giving their goodbyes and pushing Idia away. 

Sebek’s eyes trailed them with military precision as Lilia swept in to distract (Y/N). “Oh, I can’t tell you how happy you’ve made me!” Lilia said, exaggeratedly sniffing and whipping an invisible tear from his eye. 

“We know it might be hard to adjust,” Silver said. “But we want you to know that we all care about you and we’re more than willing to help.” 

“And we do mean anything,” Lilia said. “You should definitely come to us first, okay? No need to waste time on anyone else.” 

“‘Waste time’?” (Y/N) asked. 

“What Father means is,” Silver interjected. “We want you to know you can rely on us. With making sure a big change, there’s bound to be some uneven footing. You’ve proved you’re more than capable over and over again, but still…” His hand drifted out, trailing along her sleeve, before catching himself and snatching it back, gripping the hilt of his magical baton tightly. 

“We should go,” Sebek said. He looked sternly at (Y/N). “Don’t do anything stupid, human.” 

“I try every day.” 

~~~

The night air was warm as (Y/N) stood on the front steps of the old house, waving goodbye as her guests departed for the night. As much as she loved to see them, she admitted to herself that it was kind of nice to finally have Ramshackle to herself for the night. Well, herself plus Grim and the ghosts, but whatever. Malleus stepped out next to her. He nodded at his dorm mates, giving them a look that (Y/N) missed. 

(Y/N) stepped back inside, starting to pick up plates and leftovers. Malleus stood in the doorway, horns brushing the top of the doorframe, unmoving except for his eyes which tracked her. 

“I’m glad you came,” She said, stacking plates. “I mean, I knew you would, but I’m still happy.” 

“Of course,” Malleus said, fully stepping into the room. “I would come whenever you call.” 

“Sap,” (Y/N) teased. She paused, plates clinking against each other. “I’m glad I’m staying. And I’m glad everyone is so willing to help. I mean, I know we’ve all been through a lot together here, but this is a lot all at once. It’s kind of scary, you know? There’s so much basic information about this world that I still don’t know. I mean, I’ve been pretty lucky that I’ve been able to visit so many places like going to everyone’s hometown and everything. But it feels like everyday I learn something totally new that rearranges my whole perception of the world, and everyone else just treats it like normal. I…” She trailed off. “You know Rollo and I have kept in touch? He asked if I would come visit during spring break. Fluer City is supposed to be beautiful that time of year, but I think it’s probably beautiful any time of year. He’s tried to convince me to transfer to Nobel Bell College a couple of times, but I told him I like it here too much. But Professor Crewel said he might be able to get me an internship at a fashion house there, did you know he used to be a designer? Anyway, it’s something that doesn't need magic, so it could be a good fit. And now everyone is offering me a place to stay after graduation. Hey, maybe I’ll do a full Twisted Wonderland tour! I’ll have to start figuring out where I’ll be after school anyway, right? A degree from Night Raven College might be prestigious, but not having any magic can only get me so far, you know? I’ll need to take whatever opportunity I can get.” 

Malleus froze, turning her words over in his head. He stepped forward. “You work so hard, dear Child of Man,” He said. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Please, sit, you deserve a moment of respite. Here, drink this.” A mug of some steaming and sweet smelling drink appeared in Malleus’s hands. He pressed it into hers, insistent. 

“Oh, thanks, Hornton,” She said, taking a long sip, not noticing the slight pink sheen of the steaming liquid.

[akutasoda]

hold my hand, lean on me

synopsis - jiaoqiu adjusting to domestic life with you

includes - jiaoqiu

warnings - gn!reader, spoilers for 2.5, angst w/ some comfort, fluff, maybe ooc, wc - 1.3k

a/n: i actually cannot get this darn foxian out my mind :( shouts to @thelightofmylife for some vv helpful pointers and information ^^ tbh i feel like this is just 1.3k words of word vomit HAHA

the healers finished informing you of the situation, thanking them you then closed the door to the shared abode. a sigh you didn't know you were holding back escaped alongside a glance down to the papers the healer's handed over. you could read them later, the news followed by the details of it wasn't exactly a pleasant thought, if anything it might be a final push for the tears to start falling.

your thoughts were distracted by the sound of hesitant, shuffling footsteps. turning around, you were met with the sight of jiaoqiu standing idly not too far from you - almost as if he was taking in the surroundings, although now it was more him trying to piece together the memories of what it looked like.

jiaoqiu had arrived back at the yaoqing not too long ago, admittedly rather late, but the luofu's alchemy commission had kept him for a while. he'd been forced immediately to the yaoqing’s alchemy commission as they were now the ones responsible for his treatment plan for the future. a short talk with them had then led to him being escorted back home. to you.

upon arrival, some of the alchemy commission healers explained to you about the entire situation. they kept it short but soon handed you a full document containing everything from “patient’s injuries” to “doctor’s post-charge advice” - each and every sentence pained you more and more, you refused to acknowledge what would've happened if moze hadn't found him, you would have to thank him later.

the healers had asked you to take upon the responsibility of looking after him at home, and in most day to day life scenarios - at least until he adjusted properly. they asked you to keep strict to the “post-charge advice” as otherwise it probably would cause more harm to him, making his healing process longer and maybe even worsening it beyond healing.

“jiao-ge” you called out, to let him know that you were still near. it pained to see the somber look on his face. the last thing jiaoqiu saw wasn't anyone, anywhere or anything he loved. no. it was something he hated, someone he loathed in unfamiliar territory surrounded by no-one he knew.

now he stood in familiar territory, with the person he loved the most. but he couldn't bask in the sights or even see you. all he had was memories to cast images in his mind, to help pretend that nothing was wrong and that he could see what he remembered.

you knew that he wouldn't want you doting on him. jiaoqiu needed to adjust, to learn how to go about his life as usual and you overly fussing over him would only probably annoy him and prolong that.

it had been a long day, any proper conversations could be held tomorrow. to no surprise, jiaoqiu insisted he could get ready and do everything by himself. you granted him that independence. eventually, admittedly with some help, you two were ready for sleep. and even though you were right there beside him, jiaoqiu never felt further from you.

---✩

the process was slow. nobody would've said that it was going to be anything other than that. jiaoqiu very clearly wanted independence. he didn't want to seen as a burden, he chose to do this, and knowing that people were constantly doting on him instead of continuing with their lives made him feel awful.

one of the first things you did was help make your shared abode more compatible with his needs. an easy step was making sure that everywhere was clean and free of obstruction, normally moze always

showed up and helped with cleaning as well. another step was helping jiaoqiu become able to navigate the home on his own, mainly he acted on memory but you needed to make sure that where he frequented was always obstruction free.

occasionally you could hear a bump or hurried shuffling from the room over, each and every time you dropped what you were doing and checked up on him. it was never anything major and if anything it always resulted in jiaoqiu silently cursing at the piece of furniture he walked into.

you two always adopted a verbal calling system at home. should you need to leave the room he was in, you would tell him exactly where you were going and what you were doing - that way he knew where you were. jiaoqiu would also inform you of where he planned on going just in case something happened or he got lost.

although, admittedly, for the first couple of weeks jiaoqiu stuck to you like glue. to him, it was a way to quickly adjust and therefore he wouldn't have to be a burden for long. however jiaoqiu subsequently had developed a rather interesting habit, one neither of you addressed - you because you thought it was sweet and didn't want to embarrass him, him because he didn't want to admit it.

and that was him using his tail as a guidance. at home, it was either curled around your waist, wrist or leg. in public, it lingered around your wrist, so much so that it constantly tickled you. it was a way of him making sure you were there with him, you hadn't left him and he was okay.

although most admittedly it was worse at night. he would hold you close, an ironclad grip that usually you would ask for him to let up but you knew he needed this. tail curled around your waist, preventing you from escaping. in his opinion, you helped him sleep easier, much easier than any fragrances he was prescribed.

however, this always came with a risk. due to residual lupitoxin still in his body, jiaoqiu became frequently prone to nightmares which plagued him constantly. everytime his mind was tricked into believing that the borisin were waiting, patiently looking for an opening to get revenge.

he wakes up because of them, drenched in fear and swear, and because he's so fearful the lupitoxin can take hold easier. suddenly he's tricked into believing that the borisin have found him. unbeknownst to the fact that it's you. so you sometimes take the liberty of sleeping away from him, but then he wakes up to an empty bead but he can hear someone in the room over and when he finds out it was you, sleeping away from him, he becomes consumed with guilt.

a major change for him was his inability to cook anymore. jiaoqiu was determined to do so with his impairment but he needed to learn. nowadays you cook with him. instead of being hushed out of the kitchen, you stood closely beside him, handing him the tools he needed, telling him where you put them so he could find them again on his own.

gently reminding him to lay off the spices when he requested more, he was to avoid spicy foods at all costs for the time being. a hard change, one that he absolutely despised but he knew better than to go against a doctor's order. helping him go out and buy ingredients, listening to what he told you and carrying out the tasks diligently.

---✩

and that was a shortlist of changes. you were very happy to accommodate anything for him, so long as he felt comfortable and loved. it wasn't uncommon for jiaoqiu to experience major lows, it was only natural and you needed to be there for him.

to listen to him, to show him that the support he needed was always a simple ask away - you didn't want to push to dote on him for many reasons. but that was different to showing genuine care and love to him when he started seeing himself as a useless, dependent person.

life would be different. for a while or maybe even forever, perhaps feixiao would strike lucky in her search for a healer that knew how to help. but for now, you two would have to learn how to adjust. to be there for eachother.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

[charliemwrites]

Part 2!

Finally finished moving house so hopefully I’ll be updating semi-regularly again.

Content: brief and non-descriptive explanation of Rasputin’s backstory (injury and illness)

Agatha is over again.

You don’t know why. She doesn’t like you, your cats, or anything as far as you can tell. It seems her primary motivation for talking to you at all is to exercise her role as neighborhood matriarch. She “keeps tabs” on everyone, but especially you - the unmarried woman living alone that keeps odd hours.

A rebellious part of you wants to roll your eyes and make snarky comments whenever she sniffs at your life choices. The same part of you that would make scenes at holiday dinners or slam doors when you were a teenager. That girl has long been smoothed and polished - or maybe just worn down. It’s so much effort to make rude, nosy, traditionalists clutch their pearls. Much easier to smile in their face and do what you want anyway.

Still, that part of you itches at the surface sometimes. Makes your eye twitch.

“I know your generation is different but that’s just not the type of neighborhood we live in,” she’s saying.

You’re a bit foggy from a late night patching plotholes and haven’t registered much of anything she’s said. You really just want to go inside and stare at the TV until words make sense again.

“What do you mean?” you ask, for once not feigning your confusion. But of course this is the one time she doesn’t buy it.

She looks down her frail little nose at you, cornflower blue eyes baleful. You don’t feel scolded, but you sense that you’re supposed to.

“Now you know just what I mean. People will talk.”

People always talk, it’s an unfortunate byproduct of the human condition. Like a deaf bird, you’ve never understood all the chatter.

“Talk about… the buttercups?” you wonder, pointing at the blossoms. You’re quite proud of them actually.

Agatha puffs up and hisses out a breath. “You ought to keep to this side of the street. Away from those men.”

You blink. Men…?

A bang comes from across the street, followed by rough German cursing. (At least you think it’s cursing.)

Ah. Those men.

“I was just welcoming them to the neighborhood.”

It comes out of your mouth automatically, innocent excuses for something you remind yourself you don’t need to justify.

“I’d rather they didn’t feel welcome,” she snips. “Better they sell that awful house and go somewhere else.”

You flick your eyes over her bony shoulder. Konig passes by a window, massive biceps on display as he lifts something outside of view.

“They’re nice,” you say. Nice to look at. Krueger’s face alone quite makes up for his conversational shortcomings.

“The only reason men like that act nice is because they want something,” Agatha snaps. “This is a respectable neighborhood.”

Yeah, soooo respectable when Bertram rifles through your mail or Lisa looks into your backyard.

“Well,” you muse, “better to be on good terms with them, I think. They're not the type you want to piss off.”

That defiant streak lights up at the way her face sours. If only she knew what sort of words you use when it’s just you and the cats.

“You’ve just proven my point. Those are not the type of men young ladies should associating themselves with.”

You have to try very hard not to scrunch up your face. One blessed day, people will stop referring to you as “young lady” in that insufferably condescending tone. You can’t wait for that day.

Some of your mounting irritation must show on your face because she takes on a sickly sweet “teaching” tone.

“Neighborhoods are like gardens. Everything grows best when the rows are kept separate. That’s why the farmers plant them that way.”

You glance pointedly at your own yard, where the flowers are blooming in haphazard sprigs wherever you tossed the seeds. Agatha’s lips get thin.

“Best that you stay on this side of the street, missy. That’s the last I’ll hear of it.”

She spins on her heel and stalks off like a particularly drab bird. You stand on your porch for a second longer, face contorted in annoyed confusion. You don’t even have strong feelings about the three men; the simple act of someone - Agatha of all people - labeling them as “Off Limits” makes them instantly more appealing.

Maybe you should see someone about that or something. Then the pathetic cries of Guy through the window lure you back inside.

It’s nearly sundown when there’s a knock at your door. Still agitated from your talk with Agatha, you puff up like Shithead when Rasputin sits on her favorite toy. March up to the door, fling it open - and come up short when you see the three men looming on your doorstep.

Before you can recover, a little gray blob scrambles past your ankles, crying like the sky is falling.

“Oh!” Konig gasps in pleasant surprise. “Hallo, Bubchen!”

And all 6-foot-plus of Austrian instantly folds to scoop Guy up. You’ve barely managed a now-useless shout of alarm when Shithead wedges her fat head between your calves. Behind you, Rasputin politely screeches his little chainsmoker call.

And somehow, in the chaos of fumbling for furballs, you end up with all three men in your foyer.

Guy is purring away in Konig’s thick arms. Shithead is attempting to scale Krueger’s tight cargo pants. And Rasputin is pawing the air at Nikto, visibly calculating the jump to his wide shoulders.

Which leaves you with the clean serving platter you dropped off just yesterday. You blink at it for a moment, then glance at them.

“So… the cookies were good then?”

“Very good!” Konig rushes to say. Krueger and Nikto each nod, almost comically solemn.

“We have no baking or cooking skills,” Krueger continues, “so tell us what needs fixing.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he means. The house. He wants to fix your house. It’s surprisingly sweet, and you laugh a bit, shaking your head. “You don’t need to do that, I was just-“

“Is custom,” Nikto interrupts.

Konig nods with all the enthusiasm of a bobblehead as Krueger crosses his arms. (Whatever effect he’s going for is ruined by Shithead clinging to his pocket and screaming.)

“In our country, we bring gifts as guests. Our gift is repairs,” he explains.

You arch your brows playfully. “I don’t remember inviting you to be guests.”

He arches his brows right back. “We did not invite you either.”

Well shit.

“Okay, okay. I guess there’s a couple things…”

Konig perks up. “We would be happy to help, Biene!”

It’s strange having men in the house. You think you should be more nervous about it, can’t remember the last non-family man allowed into your space. Especially alone.

There’s a sharp awareness, of course. Hard not to be aware of them. It’s not just that they’re big, dwarfing all of your you-sized furniture. There’s a presence to them, something felt but not seen by your untrained eye. Maybe it’s in the set of their shoulders, the way they stand with both boots firmly planted. Maybe it’s the precise way they speak and move, not just separately but as a unit. Acting more like a collective consciousness than as individuals.

Whatever it is, you couldn’t ignore them if you tried. And you’re definitely not trying.

You set Krueger to work on the kitchen cabinet you’ve been meaning to replace. He clicks his tongue at the tape-and-lean method you’ve been using to keep the old one in place. Shithead immediately sets to work helping by gnawing at his shoelaces.

Konig is stationed in the guest bathroom, where the sink doesn’t run right. Guy comes mewing into your arms when he’s set down, effectively tattling that his new friend is mean and awful for withholding affection for even a moment.

You try not to visibly hesitate when you corner yourself in your own laundry room. Nikto has followed you right in, seemingly unaware that he’s invading your personal space. He’s not even looking at you though, eyes zeroed in on the dryer you point to.

“It’s not heating up, so the clothes stay wet or take forever to dry,” you explain.

He grunts in acknowledgement, then nods to Rasputin, who has taken up residence on the washer. His one golden eye blinks slow and serene at the two of you.

“What happened?” he asks.

You hum, softening in pleasant surprise at the question.

“I’m not sure how he lost his eye. It was infected when I found him. But I know for sure the tail and leg are from getting hit by a car.”

You sigh, scratching at Rasputin’s chin. A rusty purr starts up as he tilts his head, revealing some nasty scars around his throat.

“The vet said that that’s probably from a fight with another cat,” you add.

Guy steps from your arms to cuddle up to Rasputin, shoving his face into his ragged ear. Grooming time, then. That’s as good an indication as any that Nikto’s probably safe enough.

“I ran down from an office building to save him.” You blink hard, eyes stinging just from the memory. “But anyway, he gets to rest and be pampered now.”

When you glance up from Rasputin’s happy little face, you almost startle at the sharp blue eyes pinning you in place. Your face feels warm, even though you’re not embarrassed.

“I’ll, um, get out of the way,” you say, clearing your throat. “Keep an eye on things, Ras.”

With the men occupied, you find yourself once again at loose ends. You drift towards the den, but it feels awkward to sit on your ass watching TV while your neighbors fix your house.

You check the time on your phone - ignoring the text from your mother - and figure it’s not too early to start dinner.

“Will I be in the way if I start cooking?” you ask Krueger.

He flicks you a dimissive glance. “A little thing like you?”

You scoff and cross to the fridge. “You could have just said no.”

“Nein,” he snorts.

Rude bastard, you think - though not without fondness, unfortunately. The surly attitude is already growing on you.

There’s meat and spare boxes of pasta and veggies - that’ll work. You start tugging out ingredients, mentally doubling portions for your guests. They look like they work out even beyond the construction labor, hopefully you’ll have enough to satisfy their appetites.

“So what’s the plan with the house?” you ask as you get to work. “Just fixing it up to sell or…?”

“We will live there, the three of us,” Krueger answers. He swipes a screwdriver from Shithead’s batting paws. “Somewhere to stay when we are not working.”

You hum, biting back the next obvious question, loathe to become as nosy as the rest of your neighbors. Still… getting to know people, right?

It sounds like they expect to travel a lot. You can’t imagine them as business types - not in the traditional sense anyway. Though the image of Konig sitting in a tiny cubicle does make you smile a bit. Between their statures, their clothes, their shoes, and the occasional nasty scar, you take a guess.

“Are you guys military?”

“Contractor,” Krueger corrects.

You perk up. “Wait, really?”

He scowls. “Does it sound like a joke?”

You huff and turn back to the veggies you’re cutting. “No, no. I just - you know about guns and knives and things, then?”

He pauses. You shoot him a curious glance, only to quickly look away at the intense scrutiny directed your way.

“Yes,” he answers slowly.

“Then… could you maybe answer some questions…?”

His eyes narrow. “Questions?”

You keep your gaze on the cutting board. “Okay, wait, it's not suspicious. I’m a writer and it’s hard to google very specific questions sometimes. It’s just easier to ask an expert in person.”

Never mind that majority of your readers would never know the difference. It bothers you when things aren’t accurate.

He makes a considering noise. “A writer?”

You flush. “That’s what I do. Why I’m always home? I publish fiction.”

He stands, brushing his hands off on his pants. You peek his way, shocked to see a task you’ve been putting off for weeks already done. Hell, it looks sturdier than the rest of the cabinet doors, too.

“And your fiction requires knowledge of guns and knives and ‘things’?” he asks.

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Sometimes…”

“Fine. I will answer your questions,” he allows.

You beam. “Thank you!”

He grunts, snatches a slice of pepper and pops it into his mouth.

“What else needs doing?”

Dinner ends up much more pleasant than expected. Nikto abstains from eating, you assume because he doesn’t feel comfortable removing his ever-present mask, but he sits at the table with Rasputin in his lap. He speaks little, and has that intense gaze that prickles at your freeze instinct, but you grow used to it as the meal progresses.

Konig, however, becomes chattier with food in his belly. He’s much more forthcoming when he answers your polite and totally casual questions - though you notice Krueger kick him under the table once or twice.

You suppose he gets you back by effectively announcing to the others what your career is. Which just kicks off the usual line of questioning about how and why you got into writing. Still, there’s no judgment from these men that make their living in labors of blood and sacrifice, where you expected censure. You only find genuine curiosity and intrigue, good-natured questions. Not even Krueger makes backhanded comments about it not being a “real” job.

Before you know it, the moon is high and you’re sending the three of them off, bellies full and a little friendlier than before. Nikto nods to you (and Rasputin) as he leaves, a big Tupperware of his dinner portion in hand.

You tell yourself it’s not anticipation that goes through you, knowing they’ll be back with it soon.

Previous | Next

Masterlist

[flawseer]

Became curious based on a Smaugust piece: What are your thoughts on everyone's favorite royal suck-up, Pike? (also ofc compliments to your writing and art)

Surprise, I am still kicking. And thus my Sisyphean quest to answer all the questions in my inbox continues.

I like Pike. I used to think moderately favorably of him, but pondering this question and then drawing a bunch of pictures of and about him made me realize that, yeah, I am rather fond of him. He is funny and cute in the same way a small, yappy dog is.

I remember once talking to my partner about Pike and I asked: "Do you think the JMA staff has to deal with Pike constantly trying to sleep in the hallway in front of Anemone's room?" Only to then realize, upon re-reading the books, that this actually happens in canon. I was thrilled.

Most of the time when people ask me what I think of a character, they want to hear what my take on them is, so I'll get into that.

Background

I don't think a lot is known about Pike's life, outside him having been assigned as Anemone's (questionably) covert bodyguard. He is one of those background characters that fill out the student roster at JMA but don't get a lot of development, though he is one of the more lucky ones as he gets comparatively more lines and scenes than, say, Barracuda, or Garnet.

We don't ever hear about his home life or familial situation, but I think he comes from a common military family. Not a particularly prestigious one, but rather one of middling significance. I imagine one of his ancestors--like his great grandmother--once made it to captain and ever since the whole family has prided themselves on their military legacy and loyalty to the Seawing throne, even though nobody else really knows who they are.

Pike's parents are both bottom rung palace guards; trusted enough to be stationed vaguely near the seat of government over a remote outpost, but nothing more. As is tradition in their family, they signed up as soon as they were old enough to hold a trident. Pike was expected to follow in their footsteps, and so did the same. He is naturally eager to please, doesn't ask many questions, and knows how to follow orders, so he took to this life relatively well.

One thing immediately apparent when observing Pike is that he is very blunt, headstrong, and reckless. He is prone to self-injury and mishaps, routinely making a tail end of himself during exercises. One day, I imagine, he was out in the courtyard, practicing his combat maneuvers, when he somehow managed to trap himself underneath a training dummy in a humiliating way. Unbeknownst to him, the Queen and Princess were walking past a window overlooking this scene, and the latter happened to spot him.

Princess Anemone, starved for normal social contact due to being permanently leashed to her overbearing mother, immediately took a liking to the clumsy guard and wished to take Pike into her service. The Queen though, hated the idea. Anything she couldn't control with 100% certainty was not to be let near her only living daughter. She didn't even let her own sons approach the Princess for this very reason. So she refused.

But Anemone, sensing an opportunity to finally snatch a tiny mote of control over her own life, didn't relent. She would never overtly defy her mother, but pushed back against her in the most passively aggressive way she could muster. She WOULD have this one thing that was hers, no matter how many times she had to sigh wistfully or forget to eat.

Coral meanwhile still disliked the idea, but after some pondering figured this could work to her advantage. Granting her daughter this favor would make her grateful, and thus easier to keep in check. It was not like the boy would be able to do anything undesirable since she would always be there to watch anyway. And if he ever displeased her, a random guard was easier to dispose of without turning heads, than if she let Anemone play with one of her brothers.

So eventually, she acquiesced, and extracted Pike from the palace guard to assign him to her daughter's protection.

The news hit Pike's family like lightning. Suddenly, after decades of being nobodies with delusions of grandeur, the whole palace was paying genuine attention to them, and the new recruit who, overnight, got assigned to be the Princess' personal retainer. Pike's parents took him aside and impressed on him how important of a task this was. If he did his job well and kept the Princess content and safe, not only would the current Queen think favorably of all of them, but Anemone would remember his service and reward him once she took the throne herself. For his sake and theirs, this was an opportunity not to be squandered.

And thus, Pike shouldered this great responsibility suddenly thrust onto his wings and embraced being Anemone's personal servant and protector. Pushed forward by his sense of honor and loyalty, a desire not to disappoint his family, and the knowledge that, if he were to fail and lose the only heir, Queen Coral would surely kill him.

Day-to-day life

Pike takes his duty very seriously, both out of loyalty to his liege, and because of how much is at stake for him personally. I picture him getting up during the small hours each morning and beginning his daily exercise routine, to stay in shape for his job. His roommate Flame often wakes up to him noisily doing squats in the middle of the sleeping cave and yells at him. "Am I cursed to be tormented by a diminutive idiot Seawing wherever I go!??!" Pike is lucky that his other roommate, Bigtail, is a heavy sleeper. Otherwise the training session would likely be cut short, with Pike tied to the ceiling lamp.

After wrecking Flame's sleep, Pike usually seeks out Anemone and attempts to stay near her at all times. Initially this caused friction between him and the teachers, as he would often skip his own classes to attend Anemone's. He only stopped doing this when Tsunami made it clear skipping classes would get him sent home, and thus away from Anemone permanently.

As they spent time at the Academy, the Princess began to get better and better at giving Pike the slip whenever she got fed up with his overprotectiveness. He freaks out whenever she vanishes, which is often. To help manage his stress, the JMA staff make him attend regular seminars on inner peace and meditation hosted by Fatespeaker. He is not very good at it, but enjoys the exercises that involve listening to running water.

He began to mellow out for a bit after initial growing pains, until the History cave incident occurred. The bombing shook him back into the bodyguard mindset and he began sleeping in the hallway outside of Anemone's sleeping cave. It weirds out Ostrich whenever she has to climb over him. Attempts to get him to stop this have been unfruitful. The current policy seems to be to let him do this until things calm down and he stops on his own.

Anything else

I believe Pike may have a thing for Rainwings. He is generally hyper-aggressive and rude towards everyone he talks to, with two notable exceptions. One of them is Anemone, whom he is sworn to serve and keep safe. The other is Tamarin, whom he is uncharacteristically kind to. My personal impression is that he may have a bit of a crush on her, but keeps himself from pursuing it as to not upset Anemone.

To my knowledge, Pike never really interacts with Turtle. That is a shame, because I would like to know how they would get along. Pike may be greatly disappointed at Turtle's general un-regal-ness, but still begrudgingly respect him out of obligation. I can picture a scene where he berates Turtle for his demeanor, only for someone else to chime in with an affirmative "Yeah Turtle, you suck", upon which Pike turns around and starts ripping into them about disrespecting Seawing royalty.

Concerningly, Pike's future is very uncertain. He is actually in grave danger right now. If Queen Coral ever finds out that he allowed a murderous, seawing-hating ancient wizard to abduct Anemone, she will have some opinions on that. If Coral has one consistent character trait, it is homicidal vengefulness against anyone who fails to protect her children, regardless of circumstance, regardless even if the perpetrator IS one of her children. That means there is a very real chance she will recall Pike from Jade Mountain and try to tear him apart.

I don't think Anemone would allow this to happen, mind you. She has been privy to her mother dragging poor sods out to the plaza to rip their teeth out, enough to recognize the signs of it coming. If she suspected Pike's life was in danger, I believe she would prevent him from leaving.

For now though, he remains at Jade Mountain, doing the best he can with the responsibility he was dealt, acting as Princess Anemone's retainer. It is a difficult, stressful, at times thankless job, but he would not have it any other way.

"Honor, and duty."