#need to do housekeeping when i have the energy...

[serenescribe]

Bit of an odd request but I was listening to a bit of music and I was hit by an idea-

Idk if you know the tale of the Snow Queen, but essentially snow queens powerful ice mirror shatters, all but two pieces are recovered. One shard lands in a boys eye making him turn icey and Queen snatched him up.

However consider- Snow King Silver dragging a “mortal” who has a piece of something that was his. Unaware said “mortal” is actually a fae whose intrigued by this King’s combination of harshness yet tenderness.

the snow prince Twisted Wonderland | 3.9k Summary: A mysterious spell afflicts one Lilia Vanrouge, encasing his heart in frigid cold. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51960883

FREED FROM UNI, I AM! I actually had this written for a while, but put off posting it to save it for a more appropiate season. I really love Snow Queen retellings and AUs, so this was a LOT of fun to write! Thank you, Olive! :D

(An aside: There are extremely minor spoilers for TWST CH7 in here; they're all under the cut and mentioned in passing. If you're trying to avoid every little detail of CH7, I'd suggest passing up on this!)

In the heat of a sweltering summer that sweeps Briar Valley like a storm, Lilia feels a prick of something sharp enter his eyes.

It happens so fast, so swiftly, that had Lilia not been one of the fair folk, he likely would not have noticed it at all. If he were a human, for example, with their sluggish reflexes and oblivious tendencies, lacking a natural affinity for magic in comparison to the fae, Lilia would have chalked up the prick in his eye to a stray lash falling in, rubbing around until he feels as though he’s flicked it out before moving on with his day.

But Lilia is not human. He is fae.

He knows, at once, despite trying and failing to dig out whatever it is that has entered his eye, that it is not a stray lash or a speck of dust. There is a strange magic emanating off of the tiny sharp splinter, an aura he picks up on in an instant. It’s peculiar, the way it makes him shudder as he brushes against it, the sensation likened to the cold of a dead winter. It is unlike anything he has ever felt before.

But gradually, Lilia has to put a pause on his efforts. He is out on a journey to meet with humans for talks of peace, for their centuries-long wars are slowly crawling to an end. His soldiers look at him in concern, clicking their tongues as they ask him, “General, are you alright? Do we need to stop for a while?”

“I am fine,” Lilia says, waving his hand in dismissal. “I simply got something in my eye, is all.”

It is not wrong to say that, for it is not a lie at all. But Lilia knows as well as anyone else that the strange prick of magic infesting his eye warrants further inspection.

Later, he tells himself, as they continue on with their journey on horseback, for the stalemate in their war has allowed for easier travel through ways of steed.

Time ticks by, the lazy heat of summer dipping into the beginnings of a chilly autumn. But despite the changing seasons, the months that have passed since that fateful summer day, Lilia comes no closer to discovering what it is that ails him so deeply.

He is not oblivious to the changes occurring to him; quite the opposite, in fact. Lilia has carried about him a strange self-awareness about his shifting attitude, only realising the differences in how he’s been acting when he reflects on the changes in hindsight. He’s never exactly been the pinnacle of warmth, and especially not after his beloved friends died, but he’s always held a fondness in his heart for the few he opens up to — namely his second in command, Baul Zigvolt, and the young heir to the throne and son of his deceased friend, Malleus Draconia.

But now?

Lilia stifles a sigh as he reminisces, trudging through the gardens of the castle. The leaves are shifting to warm hues, leaves fluttering in shades of vermillion red and golden yellow, and the fallen leaves give a satisfying crunch when his boots stomp into them.

He exhales, twisting his lips as he raises his head up to the world around him. It looks as it always has, Lilia knows that well. And yet… something about it has felt different since that day.

Everything has begun to feel… boring. Banal and bland at best, wickedly ugly at worst. The crunch of the leaves irritates his ears, the drought of the autumn air makes his nose feel too sore. He turns his nose up at the food the castle staff serve, wrinkling his nose at the pungent smell of a dish he used to love, and he turns down whoever offers him a mug of beer, the foam that guzzles over the rim leaving his hands sticky and gross.

Lilia knows he’s changing. It’s not just his emotions, but also in the way he sees the world — everything is so intimately different in the worst way, and every waking hour he spends feels like a chore, an obligation he drags himself through. Where he used to spend time with Baul and his fellow men, or with Malleus most of all, being the one to raise him since he hatched, he now spends it all… alone.

But knowing something logically is different from knowing it emotionally. There are only so many apologies he can force out with his insincere tongue, schooling his expression into a facsimile of sincere regret. At the end of the day — of each day — Lilia truly feels nothing at all except the vacant void of a howling gelidity, frostbite nipping through his very veins.

At the very least, his men have respected this change, regardless of how perplexed they seem to be. Baul had pulled him aside once or twice to ask if he was feeling fine, but had he not been so preoccupied with his daughter’s sudden interest in the Valley’s newest dentist, a peculiar human who’d chosen to move here, of all places, he would have surely pressed the matter further.

On the other hand…

“Lilia!”

He sucks in a breath at the sound of that familiar voice. Once, it had lightened his heart to be greeted to such a cry upon returning to the castle from one of his many campaigns. But now?

“Hello, Malleus,” Lilia greets, making a deliberate effort to soften his voice as he turns to greet the young prince. Malleus has grown a great deal since he first hatched, now towering slightly above Lilia. Still, the boy has an inclination for continuing to call out to him childishly — something that had endeared Lilia in times past, but now only serves to irritate him by no fault of Malleus at all. “Is there something you require of me?”

“Not require, per se,” Malleus answers, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. He toys with the chain of his cloak with one hand. “I was merely hoping that you could spare the time to join me today for some tea. It has been quite a while, after all. I understand you’ve been busy as of late, but you do not appear to have anything on today, so I thought—”

“You’re rambling again.” Abruptly, Malleus’ mouth snaps shut. Lilia winces internally at his misstep; why had he interrupted the prince like that, in so cold a tone? He sighs. “Apologies. I have been under… a great deal of stress recently.”

“It is no matter, Lilia.”

Well that’s good, at least, Lilia thinks. Averting his gaze, he says, “Unfortunately, I do not believe I can join you today.”

A pause.

“Truly?” He hears it, the surprise in Malleus’ voice, mixing in with a forlorn misery. “I was certain that you had nothing to do today, given your schedule…”

“I—” Pressing his lips together, Lilia thinks before he says, rather stiffly, “It is true that I may not have anything on. But I would like some time to myself if you would be so kind, my prince.”

Ah, another slip up of his. To refer to Malleus by his title rather than his name… the gap between them only widens, and the only reason why Lilia worries about it is because he fears that he may go too far, say the wrong thing when it’s far too late to take anything back. But what’s done is done; Lilia raises his head in time to see Malleus recoil, hurt glimmering in those chartreuse eyes of his.

If Lilia stays longer… will he continue to mess up so miserably?

Before Malleus can speak, Lilia cuts in. “If there is nothing else that requires my attention,” he says, “I would like to return to my walk. Good day, Malleus. Give my regards to the queen.”

And, abruptly, he turns on his heels and leaves.

Oh, Lilia knows that Malleus is displeased. He knows it because, within mere moments, there is a gentle flutter of snow wafting down from the skies. He raises his head, blinking up at the fluttering snowflakes — so delicate and fragile, a byproduct of the prince’s tumultuous emotions, his magic far too powerful for him to properly handle when his emotions explode past his limits.

And yet, when he sets his eyes upon the swirling snow, Lilia feels…

Something.

He raises a hand, watching a snowflake land on his finger — so tiny, so delicate, an eight-pointed speck weaved into such an elegant pattern. It melts almost instantly against the warm flush of his skin — and yet, Lilia is transfixed, mouth parting slightly as he steps back, watching as the snow begins to flurry down faster and faster, cascading through the skies. How long has it been since he’d felt anything other than such apathy, such revulsion, such irritation and disgust? Now, Lilia only feels a sense of childlike wonder.

When was the last time he stopped to stare at the snow as it fell? He cannot remember. Has he ever stopped to observe it like this? Or had war stripped away such inconsequential pastimes from his life?

Lilia does not know how long he wanders around, watching the snowflakes dance until he goes numb, so numb with the cold. He only knows that his fingers are frozen and his lips are blue when he finally returns to the castle in a daze, barely cognisant of the way his entire body is battered, pushed past the natural limitations of his faerie strength.

Winter crashes into Briar Valley like an enemy ambush, a sudden attack spurned from the shadows of nothingness. It is the worst winter they have had in an eternity, everyone says, peering outside the frost-tinted windows as they bask within the toasty walls of the castle grounds; the fire-spells keep everyone warm for as long as they stay inside.

With the thick layers of snow barring any method of safe travel, the ongoing talks of their peace treaties with the humans have been temporarily suspended — more for the children of men’s sakes than that of the fae. If she so willed it, Queen Maleficia could wash away the snow with a flick of her wrist, but such matters, in her opinion, are trivial; nature is not something to be fixed at an instant, so why should she expend her energy for such things?

So during those days, cooped up within the castle walls with little to do, Lilia winds up lounging in the cushioned nook of a window, a little alcove tucked away in a winding tower towards the murky corners of the castle. Few fae ever roam here, save for a scant few servants pattering about cleaning the dusty hallways, and Lilia spends many languid hours with his head pressed against the cool glass, so intensely transfixed on the dancing snowflakes outside.

They are beautiful. Perhaps they are the last bits of perfection he shall ever witness in his life.

He has found no information about the shard that pricked his eye, nor has he found any sort of cure. Lilia has spent many a month searching, sifting through the treasure trove of books in the castle’s library to no avail. He had, at one point, considered going to the queen and telling her of his predicament — “In the month of summer, I believe a magical spell of some kind has afflicted my eye.” — but his own apathy stops him every time; there is simply no point in dragging others into this matter, not because Lilia does not wish to trouble them, but because, try as he might, the larger part of him just doesn’t care.

So, with his head pressed against the cold glass, Lilia closes his eyes and sighs.

The winter solstice is approaching, the longest night of the year. As nocturnal fae, creatures of the night, it is a joyous cause for celebration for their kind. Despite the blizzard that rages across the Valley night and day, many servants, guardsmen, people of their kingdom have been looking forward to the events; the castle town shall be open to all, shielded from the elements. All fae, young and old, can look forward to a night of dancing and festivities, dining on the finest food at the banquets, and celebrating the longevity of the night.

In years past, Lilia would have looked forward to it. But now, like everything else in his life, he feels nothing at all.

“Lilia? Are you here?”

He stifles a groan at the sound of Malleus’ voice. Again and again, the boy continues to scour for him, to seek him out and spend time with him. Lilia tries to indulge him, he really does! But each occasion spent together, needing to force himself to fake sincerity the whole way through — “Oh yes, Malleus, I would like to try the new blend of tea! Thank you kindly for the offer. How is your grandmother doing? I heard she has spent some time with you as of late—”

He can’t stand it. He can’t. It gets harder and harder with each passing day, the chill that permeates his skin sinking deeper and deeper, turning his heart into one carved of ice. His eye prickles with pain whenever he grits his teeth in a false smile; across the table from him, the young prince looks detestable, a selfish beast with far too much time, uncaring of what his servants are subjected to in their indulgence of him.

So he avoids him. As soon as Lilia hears him, he flicks his wrist, a swell of magic surrounding him. Bat-formed, Lilia takes to the rafters, huddling away in the corners of the ceiling as he listens to Malleus come and go. It is only when he hears that familiar voice fading away that he dares to leave, flapping his little wings as he makes a break for another isolated corner of the labyrinthian castle.

The day of the winter solstice arrives, and with it comes the worst blizzard the valley has ever seen.

Cold winds lash against the fortifications of the castle, howling and rattling. Snow crashes from the sky, piling higher and higher upon the dead ground. And yet the castle is alight with the buzz of festivities — the many servants bustle about, wrapping up the last of their preparations, ensuring the banquet is ready with food for all, that the decor floats about in place, that the spells wrapping the castle and its town in a bubble of warmth remain solidly intact.

Throughout the day, Lilia sticks to the shadows, hovering out of sight. Today he feels… he doesn’t know how to describe it. Cold and dead as usual, his heart no longer the warm, affectionate thing it was before — but beneath the thick layers of apathy, there is something nestled beneath: the barest twitch of a muscle, a flutter of something. Lilia finds himself distracted with it the entire day as he meanders about, waiting for the clock to tick to a point when the festivities can start.

And when they do begin, the many residents of the valley teleporting into the castle en masse… Oh, how does Lilia even begin to describe them? Laughter rings freely, the merry melody of music from a string band sweeping the air as dancers circle across the floor. Wine glasses clink as people toast to prosperity and magic, hoping to see the weather ease up soon, and even the queen herself is out and about, walking amidst the crowd, a smile on her face as she mingles with the few faeries bold enough to approach her.

But Lilia—

He feels nothing watching all this. Nothing at all.

And yet… there is something else. That peculiar emotion buried underneath… it sings to him, calls to him, as though someone’s voice were tugging at a string. It only strengthens as the night goes on, likened to an unbearable itch; it is the first blissful thing he has felt in what feels like an eternity, and Lilia—

He misses it. He misses being able to love, to feel something other than apathy at best, and all these horrible, miserable emotions at worst — a repugnance, a rage, an irascibility that sparks every time someone tries to converse with him. Lilia misses being able to love freely, his heart softening as he grows older, brought on by the loss he’s experienced, and the love he mustered up to be able to raise Malleus into the man he is today.

So who can blame him for slipping off, for finding a way out of the castle grounds? Lilia answers the call, sneaking past guards who are far too drunk on wine, laughing and shouting as they play games at their stations. He does not bother with whisking up thick clothes for himself; Lilia merely plunges into the blizzard, battered at once by shrieking winds and a pelting of snow against his face, of a storm so deadly chilling that it would ravage even the strongest of faes.

And yet, he does not feel cold.

He grits his teeth as he presses on, dragging his legs through the thick boughs of snow. Lilia knows not how long it takes for him to trudge, only that it feels like forever — but he knows he is getting somewhere, because with each step he takes, the tugging in his chest grows and grows, the intensity of the emotion exciting him for the first time in months.

Is this the answer to his ailment?

Is there a cure tucked within the heart of the storm?

Lilia takes one step, and then another. He takes a third, and—

All at once, everything stops.

The wind dies away. The blizzard softens to a gentle snowfall. Little flakes of snow dance through the air as Lilia walks forward, head turning to and fro. How peculiar this is! He raises a hand, watching a flake fall into the open palm of his hand and rest there, and it is only the sound of hooves clumping against snow that snaps him out of his reverie.

Lilia turns his head, and sees a child.

A boy, who gazes at him with wide eyes that reflect the northern lights — auroras of shifting veins tinted shades of pink, purple, and blue, lights that Lilia has only gotten the chance to see once during a journey across the world. His hair sweeps across his forehead, locks of the purest silver as though spun from the nighttime stars, streaked with white like the pristine paleness of snow. He sits on a white stag, ice-spun crystals hanging from its glacial antlers, and around him is a fur-lined cloak and hood that swallows him whole, far too big for his tiny body.

Lilia’s breathing hitches—

Because the boy before him is the most beautiful thing he has seen in a long time.

“Hello,” the boy says after a while, a glimmering curiosity in those wide eyes of his. His mount trots forward, bringing him closer. “I’ve never seen you before,” he says, looking at Lilia closely.

At that, Lilia laughs. “I could say the same to you, little one.” He rests a hand on his hips, relishing in the joy, the curiosity, the emotions that flood him in full force; it has been so long! “It is a rare sight to see a young boy riding a stag in a storm like this.”

The boy’s face falls, and Lilia feels… worried. Did he upset him somehow? “I’ve been trying to stop the storm for a while now,” the boy explains, auroral eyes flicking to the storm that rages outside the bubble they’re within, continuing to ravage the valley to no end. “B-but it’s my first time really trying such a thing, and I don’t… really know how.”

Ah, Lilia thinks, finally coming to understand. A lost child. A boy with power over the very elements itself, who can control the season of cold and snow. And yet, who would place such responsibility upon a child, one so very young? He feels the fervent urge to lean in and coddle him, to reassure him that it’s alright, you’re trying your very best, I can help you if you just let me.

And why shouldn’t he do such a thing?

“I can help you, if you would like.”

In a flash, those pupils lock on him. “Would you?” the boy breathes. “I-I wouldn’t want to trouble you, mister—”

“It’s no trouble at all!” Lilia insists, stepping forward with a beaming smile on his face. He reaches out for the stag, feeling the beast nuzzle against the palm of his hand as he strokes it gently. Why should he return to the castle, to that unyielding, endless void of apathy and misery? Here, with the boy with eyes like the auroras and hair like the stars, Lilia feels something — the warm glow of parental affection, already growing so attached to such a young child.

“Then…” the boy mumbles, “would you come with me?”

Lilia only smiles. “Of course.”

And as he clambers onto the back of the steed, he asks, before they leave, one final question: “Pray tell, little one, what is your name?”

“My name?” the boy echoes, furrowing his brows. “I… I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

Lilia arches an eyebrow. What kind of a lonely life must this boy live, if he has not even considered his lack of a name? “Then would you mind if I gave you one?” he offers. Oh, it is such an incredibly forward move to suggest such a thing, with how important names are to his kind. But already, he is attached, his very soul bound to this child who gazes at him in wonder at the possibility of wielding his own name.

And the boy nods.

“Silver,” Lilia says, the name coming to him at once. Like the shine of the gleaming moon, the glitter of the stars, the wispy fall of the snow around them. Love blooms in his chest, the warmth cradling his very soul; Lilia curls his arms around the boy, his body so cold even through the chilling fabric of his cloak, pulling him against his chest into a hug. “That shall be your name.”

“Silver,” the boy echoes, testing it out on his tongue. He tilts his head back, a small smile gracing his rounded cheeks as he looks up at Lilia. “Thank you, mister. Could I ask what your name is?”

“It is Lilia, dear one,” he croons, relinquishing his name without a second thought. The two of them are bonded in mere moments, Lilia filled with a fulfilment he has not felt since that prick of a shard entered his eye.

There is nothing left for him here. That is what he tells himself as Silver leads them away, commanding his steed to take off into a prancing gallop, bursting from the tranquil heart of the storm into the raging blizzard, whisking them back to their home.

(Lilia fails to notice the figure that bursts through the clearing, chartreuse eyes widening in horror as a mouth parts to scream his name. He does not notice the horned boy who shivers in the cold, eyes wide as the wind whips at his long hair, watching the stag prance away, the boy who leads it ripping his guardian away from his grasp.)

[yurmomsawh0r]

•°His Perfect Little Wife °• - p2

You and Nanami’s relationship has been a little difficult during your pregnancy and one turn of events has you ready to divorce him. But Nanami would never let you leave. You were his wife and he’d never let you go.

@delightfulmoonbanana @i-killed-a-prostutute @muzanswaifu @ebonydumbslut

Sorry it took super long! I’m pregnant with a toddler and it’s super hard to have energy to write anything, but I’m definitely coming back on here because YALL, I have soooo many ideas in my notes for tumblr and oof I can’t wait to drop them! But I hope you enjoy part 2 it’s different from part 1 because I kinda had to make it a small story but anyways enjoy 😊 💙

Prompt idea by @ebonydumbslut

“ I’m literally fina write a whole plot feel free to just take parts from it but I’m thinking For his perfect wife maybe yandere and Angst like since y/n pregnant she hasn’t been at her best with waking up on time doing things for her husband hasn’t felt like having sex so her husband hires a maid and y/n can tell that she is trying to take her husband away being to Close and saying things like “ofc I will make you food if you were my husband with how hard you work I would make sure you didn’t even have to ask he doesn’t see it but y/n does he’s also been a little distant and hasn’t been able to see her much because when he comes home y/Ns sleep y/n know this and stays up untill he’s home and by the time she gets all pretty for him she walks down stairs to see her husband and the made doing something that looks inappropriate (yk how In the movies someone walks in at the wrong time and it looks wrong) anyways she runs to her room and he goes after her to tell her it’s not what it looks like and y/n is getting ready to go to her moms house or something she tells him that he can have the maid and she’s going to leave and this is we’re the yandere starts he tells her she can’t and what about there baby and whatever else you want he makes y/n feel bad and she stays then he shows her how much he loves her by yk having sex’s loud to the maid hears everything while there having sex he tells her how she knows that she can’t leave because she needs him she’s to much of a dumb slut to do anything without him all she’s good at is being his perfect little wife y/n falls into this brain washing and promises she will never leave and that she’s his and will always be you could also put some fluff in there sorry for how long this is I Basically could have made the book for you😭”

CW - Yandere-ish, Manipulation, mentions of cheating, pregnant reader, penetration, pregnant sex, cursing, pet names, mentions of a divorce

Part 1 here

–

Nanami was frustrated to say the least. Between working extra hard and keeping your need’s satisfied, he definitely had his hands full. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he typed away on his computer. It was going on another late night and he had many things to get done. It always felt like he’d never have another second for himself or for you.

A knock on the door had an oh - so, very tired Nanami shifting in irritation. “What?” Came his groggy, stress filled voice. A subordinate of his walks through the door. A file in his hand. “Sorry sir. I just wanted to drop off my report you requested.”

“Place it in the black tray.”

The man did what he was told, quickly placing it in the tray and making his way out of the office.

Nanami glanced at the clock and seen that is was going on 1 am in the morning, making a sigh leave him. He knew you’d be in bed by now. You both couldn’t seem to catch a break. Nanami thought about the conversation you both had about hiring a housekeeper. You were about 4 months pregnant and you’ve grown quite a lot. It was getting hard for you to keep up your regular routine.

Nanami has even taken it upon himself to be home more to help out, but it was definitely putting him back, which resulted in him having many late nights and causing him to be way more irritated than normal. Anytime you both found a moment to yourselves, you would be to tired to do anything. You slept way more than you normally would these days, which he didn’t mind. It wasn’t your fault you ended up pregnant.

It was decided, he would take it upon himself and hire a housekeeper as soon as possible once he was able to cut back his work load.

~*~

It’s been about 3 weeks since the new maid started working for you both. She had tremendously been a big help around the house keeping things tidy and organized. Although you’ve had more help around the house, you still haven’t been able to see your husband for a while. The times you both did run into each other, he would always seem irritated with you. You knew work has been hard since he’s been catching up, so you decided to suck it up and do the things he normally liked.

“Oh! I see you cooked dinner Martha!” You honestly weren’t surprised. The past week she had been taking over in the kitchen before you even had a chance. “It was no problem. I understand that you’ve been tired lately.”

Although that was true, you usually pushed yourself to cook dinner for your husband but you haven’t been able to because she always did. It kind of bothered you, but you decided to try and be grateful for all the help.

“Well thank you, I can prepare the plates for dinner, as well as Nanami’s lunch for tomorrow. You can take the rest of the day off.”

“Oh no need ma’am. I already prepared his lunch as well as his plate for dinner.” She spoke. This was another thing that bothered you. She always took it upon herself to do more than she needed. You even seen that she left a note on his lunch one time. It was a small “Have a great day at work.” But you felt as though she crossed a boundary. This was your husband, not hers. Leaving notes wasn’t in her job description.

Before you could say anything else, the front door opened and in walked your husband. You went to greet him as usual. Helping him remove his coat and hanging it up for him. “Hi honey! How was work.”

He only grunted. “It was work.” Was all he said and brushed passed you, not a single glance your way. Not even a small forehead kiss as he usually did. An ache in your heart throbbed through your body.

In the kitchen, you could hear Martha speaking to him. As you went to peak, you seen her placing his plate in front of him and pouring him a glass of wine.

You couldn’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt you to see the small act, but it did. Your own sensitive emotions plus being pregnant didn’t help, the tears started to flow. You turned on your heels and made your way to your shared bedroom skipping dinner that night.

Weeks had passed and still nothing had changed, well except you did. You weren’t yourself. You had completely stop doing your house work and just left it to the maid since, she took it upon herself to do everything. So you just rested in bed most of your days falling asleep when ever he felt like it.

You haven’t seen your husband for most days. By the time he came home you were already in bed passed out.

Martha had also been getting a little too close to your husband for your liking but Nanami didn’t seem to care to stop her advances so you assumed that maybe your were making things up, but you couldn’t help but think about all the little smart remarks she took it upon herself to say.

“Wow, you’re such a hard working man, if you were my husband I’d be sure to reward you everyday.”

“Would you like me to give you a massage sir?”

Maybe she was being nice? Maybe you were reading into it a little too hard. Either way Nanami didn’t seem to mind her forwardness so maybe you shouldn’t either.

Having enough of your pity party, you finally decided that it was time to put an effort in getting your husband’s attention again.

That night you got yourself all clean and dolled up in one of his favorite lingerie pieces and one of his t-shirts. He loved seeing you in his clothing. He always told you it made him feel like the best man in the world seeing his woman comfortable in his attire. It was almost 1 in the morning, the usual time he had gotten home. You had waited all night, despite being so tired, to see him. Lights shown through the curtains and the sound of a motor vehicle pulling into the drive way shook away any traces of sleep you had in you.

This was it! Tonight’s the night you and your husband rekindled.

~*~

Nanami walked through the door tired as ever. He was finally done with playing catch up and attending hour long business meetings for the month. He’s finally be able to catch a break. He felt as though he had be in a trans working and powering through his long streak, and finally he would be able to settle down for a while.

He made his way to the kitchen to look for something to eat. I was a little after 1 so he knew you’d be sleeping.

When he entered the kitchen, he was surprised to see Martha standing there in nothing but a small tank top and shorts to short for her size.

“Oh! Nanami, I didn’t think you’d be home just yet. Are you hungry?” Nanami only grunted and moved passed her and headed towards the fridge.

“Would you like wine with your meal sir?” The sultry tone of her voice rung in his ears. He eyed her suspiciously for a moment before shrugging it off. “No thank you, not tonight.”

He told her with a monotonous tone. He grabbed his plate that was left in the fridge and placed it in the microwave to warm.

“Alright, I’ll just put this back then.” She had a smile on her face as she strut her way towards the wine holder that was just behind where Nanami was standing.

Just inches away from him, she had stumbled, almost dropping the bottle in the process. Nanami kept forward, grasping her in his arms just as he was able to fall, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck as if they were lovers about to ignite in a night of passion.

She giggled, pulling him closer. “I’m sorry, I’m such a klutz! It’s a good thing a big strong man like you were here to catch me! You’re just like a knight in shinning armor. And my knight deserves a kiss for saving me.”

As she tried pulling him closer, Nanami started to pull away, but it was too late. A small gasp had them both frozen.

“Oh! My lady! I didn’t think you’d be up.”

There you stood from your stop in the kitchen, watching as your maid and husband were about to share such a passionate kiss. It brought tears to your eyes seeing how good they looked together.

You knew you hadn’t been up to par in taking care of yourself as well as him, but you didn’t think he’d cheat on you for such a small inconvenience.

“Wait! Y/n-“ He called out to you but you just turned and ran to your bedroom to grab everything you needed to leave.

Nanami dropped Martha letting her fall to the floor leaving her in pain as he chased after you.

Once he made it to your shared room, he saw that you were packing a suit case with everything valuable and important to you.

“It’s not what it looked like y/n” he tries to reason with you but you didn’t listen. “I don’t care Nami, it’s not like I haven’t noticed we haven’t been the same in a while. Especially since she got here.”

“What do you mean? I know I’ve been busy, but I’d never do something like that to you. I love you.”

“You don’t love me. If you did you wouldn’t have been all up on her. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m done.”

This caused Nanami to freeze. His voice dropped, a menacing tone sounded in his voice. “What do you mean you’re done?”

It sent a chill up your spine but you remained strong. “It means I’m done. I want a divorce. I can’t do this anymore. My own husband doesn’t even want to look at me, let alone act like I exist.”

You finished packing whatever you could and zipped it up, but Nanami was faster than you. He grabbed your luggage and threw it aside, shattering your vanity. “What is your problem! I don’t understand why you are so upset. Go be with your fucking mistress!” You yelled.

“I’m fucking upset because my wife is trying to leave me over a misunderstanding!” He cornered you. His pupils dark and expression angry. It was look you never wanted towards you.

He broke out into a laugh that boomed into the room. “You can’t fucking leave me y/n. You can’t break up our perfect little family that’s just getting started.” His hands slid up the sides of your waist pulling you closer to him.

“I take good care of you and I always will. No matter what. You are mine and I’d never let you go. I need you here with me little one. I don’t know what I’d do if you decided to break up our perfect little life.”

A flood of memories flew through your head. Even images of the future that you thought were to come. You felt a little guilty for trying to leave instead of making things work, but you couldn’t help but think about him being with another woman.

“How long have you been messing with Martha.”

Rage sparked in his eyes as he punched a hole in the wall by your head making your scream. He gripped your chin tightly and forced you to meet his gaze.

“I’ve never touched that fucking woman! She fell and I caught her, nothing more. Do you understand?” When you didn’t respond, he sighed.

“My love. My perfect little bunny, must I show you just how much you mean to me? Shall I show you that nobody can make you feel the things you do for me? Hmm? Must I show you one of the many reason that you love me?”

“Must I remind you who you belong too!?”

~*~

You couldn’t think straight. You really couldn’t think at all. The only thing filling your senses was your husbands dick penetrating you so hard and deep. Your face was wet with tears and saliva that pooled onto the pillow as he drilled into you from behind.

“Ahh, you feel so good little one.” He grunted in your ear. Nanami gripped your neck and pounded deliciously into you. The feeling of your juices getting him going.

It had been too long since you both last had sex and he was going to make it last as long as possible.

“And you’d thought I’d let you leave? With my baby in your womb? You’d thought I’d let another man have you? No, I’d kill anyone who thought they would have a chance.”

Your body shook as another orgasm ripped through you, but he didn’t let up, he just fucked you harder through it. “P-please Nami!”

But your please fell on deaf ears. “No, not until you learn that you can never leave me. You’re mine y/n. You’re nothing but my little dumb slut, my perfect little wife.” He licked up your tears grinding deeper into you.

“Say it! Say that your mine and that you will never leave me! Say that you’ll stay and be my perfect little housewife forever.”

You could feel him going deeper and deeper, skin slapping against each other in perfect rhythm. It was too much, you couldn’t even get a word out. You were moaning so loud and the bed was banging against the wall you were sure it would break. You were also sure Martha could hear everything.

“I’m waiting my little bunny.” Nanami’s voice warmed you. You gushed around his cock even more at his power over you.

He was dominating you. Showing you that you were indeed his. Nobody would make your body feel the way he did. Nobody ever could.

Just as another orgasm ripped through you, you wailed “y-yessss Naaamiiii, yessss i-im yours!”

“You’re my what?” He pressed his shaft into the opening of your cervix making you yelp. “IM YOUR DUMB SLUT DADDY!”

He moaned as he felt you squirt on him. Your essence pooling on the sheets. “Uhhh, that’s it! Let daddy have it all!”

His thrust started to get choppy as he reached his own peak. Spilling all of himself into you. Telling you how much he loved you. How he would never let you go. Ever.

As you both came down, he pulled you into his arms, gently caressing your face and smothering you with gentle kisses. You were exhausted. Falling in and out of sleep with a dazed but satisfied look on your face.

“Fire her.” Was all you could muster up. Nanami laughed and kissed your soft lips.

“Your wish is my command my lady. It always will be.”

You both laid there in each others embraces.

“But don’t think I’m done with you my love. You have awoken a part of me by just telling me your going to leave me. I need to make sure that never happens again.”

His perfect little wife, forever and always.

[eiightysixbaby]

this is heaven, what i truly want

oliver quick x fem!reader

you’re never truly alone at saltburn. there’s always someone watching. (3.4k+)

18+ only! oral f receiving, voyeurism, unprotected piv, creampie, spit kink, use of pet names (darling, sweetheart, baby, etc.), one use of ‘sir’, cum eating (just a smidge), biting and choking (literally one brief instance of each), edging. lmk if I forgot any!

a/n: hooooo boy I wanted to try something new, so here it is! promise I’m not fully veering away from my usual stranger things content, I just desperately needed to write some filth for ollie 🤭 hope you enjoy!! I proofread this a couple times but if there’s mistakes iM SORRY. my closing statement: I can fix him your honor.

Watched. For days you’ve felt like you’re being watched. Carefully, closely, tracking your every move. Maybe the walls have eyes, who knows with a place as eccentric as this. All of the ornate fixtures and ancient paintings do have a bit of an eery, haunting feel to them.

Or perhaps it’s just because you aren’t used to having housekeepers around at all hours of the day. Duncan has always been off-putting; every summer you’ve spent at Saltburn throughout your life there’s been an energy about him that’s made the hair on your neck stand up.

Regardless, you’ve tried to shake off the feeling, wondering if you were finally losing your mind. Because here, with Felix and Venetia, Elspeth and James and Farleigh — you’re safe. They’re lifelong family friends who, as strange as they may be at times, make you feel secure. Nobody would have any business spying on you.

But oh, you should’ve known better.

You slip out of the large clawfoot tub, bare feet planting themselves on the white tile floor. Water drips from your body, the tiniest puddle forming at your feet. Grabbing your towel, you begin to dry your body with the soft fabric. You hum softly to yourself, reaching for your satin robe where it hangs by the vanity. For a moment you think you hear something, the tiniest creaking sound, and you move to look around the unnecessarily large bathroom. It’s dark in the corners where the light doesn’t quite reach, but even squinting you see nothing out of the ordinary.

You’re fucking losing it, you mentally scold yourself. It’s an old house, it’s going to make noise.

You lean against the vanity, palms flat on the marble countertop. Letting out a heavy sigh, your head hangs low, eyes closed. Get it together.

When you’ve finally steadied your breathing, you look back up to greet yourself in the mirror. You work your hairbrush through your wet hair, taking care to untangle any knots. The feeling won’t go away, your defenses raised. Eyes on you. There’s someone watching. There has to be.

You see him in the mirror before you actually see him.

Turning on your heel, a loud gasp escapes you. Your heart pounds behind your rib cage, your eyes focusing in on the figure lurking in the dark hallway. The bathroom door is open a crack, eyes you know to be blue piercing through you.

Oliver.

“What the fuck, Ollie!?” you shout, watching as he slips fully into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

You retreat, back pressing against the counter behind you. He stalks calmly towards you, caging you in. You swallow, unable to stop the way your eyes study his muscular frame, his tank top clinging tight to his torso.

“Now now,” he says, soft and steady. “We don’t want the whole house to wonder what’s up, do we?”

“What are you doing here?” you grit, nostrils flaring as you exhale heavily. Your posture stiffens, tense under his chilling gaze. “Why were you watching me?”

“Don’t act so offended, darling,” he says, stepping so close that your chests nearly touch. “Do you think I don’t see the way you look at me?”

Your lips part, breath hitching in your throat. It’d be a filthy lie to act as if you haven’t been admiring him since he first arrived, under Felix’s wing like a timid little animal. Something about him has captivated you, intrigued you, lured you in. He’s just so quiet, so skittish. So beautiful.

Being as close to family as you could get, you didn’t want to make things awkward by putting the moves on Felix’s friend, so you avoided him when you could. But that only made things more unbearable for you. Many a night was spent with your hand between your thighs, softly crying his name into your dark bedroom. Imagining he was there with you. He couldn’t know about that… could he?

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” you say, looking up at him defiantly. Lying through your teeth. You should know he can practically smell the nervousness on you.

It’s cute that you think he’d buy this.

“Oh, save the games, sweetheart,” he tuts, taking a final step closer to you. His chest fully pressed against yours now, his face dipping forward until his mouth is right beside your ear. “I know you touch yourself at night, stretching open that pretty little cunt, wishing it was me.”

Fucking hell.

“Did you really think you could be slick? Think I wouldn’t catch the way you stare at me all of the time, think I wouldn’t figure you out?”

“How long have you been watching me?” you ask quietly, your voice meek now.

“Not any longer than you’ve been watching me.”

“I haven’t—” you start, but he presses a finger to your lips, quieting you. He raises a brow, as if to say ‘Do you really want to go there?’

God, you were so stupid. Staring at him any chance you got; looking out your window at him while he’d lounge shirtless by the pool, or peering through his cracked bedroom door one evening after dinner in hopes of seeing him changing. You were sick. And here you are, chastising him.

You keep your gaze directly on his, feeling your heart rate increase under the scrutiny of those piercing, gorgeous blue eyes. He gently holds your chin, keeping you focused on him as he studies your face.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, letting his free hand come to rest on your waist. You’re reminded then that you’re only in a robe, and suddenly your skin feels like it’s ablaze.

“Oliver—” you start, your eyes big and pleading as you stare at him. What exactly you’re hoping for you don’t know, you just want him to do something.

His gaze flits to your lips, his tongue poking out to wet his own. Leaning in, his mouth ghosts over yours, barely grazing your waiting pout. He pulls back, teasing, and you chase him. Seeking out his lips until he gives in, one hand on your lower back, holding you against him as he kisses you roughly. His tongue licks into your eager mouth, swirling around yours, tasting you. It feels as though you’re nearly devouring each other, teeth clashing as your hands reach up to tangle themselves in his hair.

You whine, a high-pitched and pretty thing when he lets his mouth find your neck, sucking harsh on the delicate skin. Rolling your hips against his, you can feel the bulge straining in his boxers and he groans at the sudden friction.

“Ol— Ollie, please,” you beg, for what it isn’t clear, but he removes his lips from your pulse point to look at you.

“Such a needy little thing you are,” he says, regarding you down the bridge of his nose. “And to think five minutes ago you were acting like I wasn’t welcome in here…”

You chew at your bottom lip, thighs pressing together involuntarily at the way he speaks to you. His tone is ultimately patronizing, and you’d have no complaints if he spoke to you like this all of the time.

He dips his head back down, this time kissing over your collarbone. Every inch of skin he kisses seems to ignite, electricity coursing through your veins. He unties the fabric belt securing your robe around your front, letting it instead fall open for him. You’re completely bare beneath the black silky fabric, and you watch the way his eyes trail down your figure. He studies you like you’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, and there’s an insatiable hunger behind that stunning blue. He’d eat you whole if it were possible.

Continuing his descent, he takes the nipple of your right breast into his mouth, kneading the left with his hand. You gasp, tipping your head back as his tongue rolls over the sensitive little bud, sucking on it. He diverts his mouth’s attention to the other side, then, making sure he gives equal attention to each of your tits. You can feel yourself throb for him, nearly dripping at your core in anticipation.

“Such pretty tits,” he mumbles, lips trailing against your skin. He lets his face linger between them for a moment, caressing them with soft hands.

Your mind wanders as he works his way down, kissing down your stomach, nipping at your hips. You wonder how often he’s spied on you without you catching him — exactly how many times he’s seen you touch yourself to the thought of him. It only drives you further up the wall; picturing him peering through a crack in your bedroom door on nights where you’d lay completely bare on your bed, pleasuring yourself to thoughts of his fingers and tongue. He’s sick, you’re sick, and maybe you’re perfect for each other.

You’re brought entirely back to the present when you feel his breath fanning against your cunt, his eyes peering up at you from where he rests on his knees. He doesn’t break eye contact as he brings two fingers up to swipe through your folds, collecting your slick. You shiver, mouth agape as he brings those fingers to his mouth, sucking your sweet honey from them.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet for me, darling. And you taste so sweet,” he murmurs, pressing his face against your mound. He inhales, the tip of his nose nudging at your clit, making your hips jerk slightly. “Smell even sweeter,” he praises. He’d bottle up your scent and wear it like cologne if it were possible, anything to feel close to you all of the time.

His lips part, hot breath fanning against your exposed cunt as he collects himself. You feel his tongue lick a delicate stripe up through your folds, a barely-there sensation, but it makes your back arch regardless.

“Oliver,” you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair.

You hear him exhale in a smug laugh before you feel his tongue again. He’s far more intentional this time, letting it lap up your juices from every crevice. You tug hard on his hair when you feel the wet muscle breach your entrance, lewd slurping sounds coming from the way he pleasures you. His strong hands grip your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin, keeping you right where he wants you.

It feels like you’re levitating, ascending to a higher realm as he licks and sucks at your pretty, glistening pussy. He allows his mouth to focus on your clit, teeth grazing it in a greedy little nip before he soothes the area with his velvety tongue. You’re seeing stars when you feel two of his fingers slip generously inside of you, scissoring within your walls.

“Oh— oh my god,” you whine, your eyes pinching shut as you tip your head back.

“That’s right, baby — I’m your God. Worship me like I’m your God,” he growls, in a different headspace entirely.

While he’s usually so soft-spoken and polite, in this moment he’s cocky; more confident than you thought he’d ever be. You can’t fault him for it, though, because you do want to worship him. You want to get on your knees and pray for him.

Weeks of yearning, lusting after him from afar have come to fruition. Your longing now seeps out of you, with his eager mouth to swallow it all. He fucks his fingers harder into you, curling into your sweet spot as his tongue flicks rapidly back and forth over your sensitive bud.

The thing is, it’s been weeks of yearning on his end, too. This place, warm and wet between your thighs, is his altar — his holy ground. He wants to worship you just as much as he wants you to worship him. He’s dreamt of what you would taste like, how you’d suck him right in, and now that he has you he never wants to let you go.

“Fuck, Ollie, don’t stop,” you plead, letting loud rhythmic moans fall from your lips. At this point you don’t care if the entire house hears you; so fucking be it if they do. You know Farleigh would love something to gossip about; what better topic than how Oliver gave you a religious experience right under this massive roof?

Reading your mind, he speaks from his spot between your legs. “So fuckin’ loud, darling. You want everyone to hear us? To hear how good I make you feel?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” you pant, grinding down on his fingers, nearly humping his face.

He hopes in his twisted mind that someone is listening. Hearing him claim you, mark you as his. He shakes his head back and forth, tongue laying flat as it swipes over your clit messily. You can feel yourself about to let go, to come completely undone for him.

But he can sense it, he can see it on your face that you’re so deliciously close to release, and he’s not having it yet.

Your brows furrow when he removes his fingers from your cunt, pulling his mouth away as well. You’re about to protest, about to plead with him to keep going, but he’s standing and pressing his lips to yours before you can get a word out.

There’s a painful ache in your core, and you can feel yourself still soaking wet for the man before you. His teeth bite at your bottom lip, tugging on it while he studies you with half-lidded eyes. He rolls his hips against yours and you can feel his excitement, his cock stiff in his boxers.

You paw at the waistband, attempting to free him from his confines, desperate to feel him. His fingers wrap around your wrists, stopping them from getting any closer to his cock.

“Don’t get greedy, sweetheart,” he warns. “I call the shots.”

He grabs you by the waist, encouraging you to sit on the counter behind you. You jump with his assistance, your skin cold where it rests on the marble surface.

His lips latch onto your neck once more, sucking on delicate skin, leaving tender bruises. He takes his sweet time, drawing out your agony as your arousal drips down your thighs. Pitiful whimpers crawl their way out of your throat, tilting your head to the side to allow him better access. He nips at the skin at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, licking the stinging spot afterwards to calm the ache. His thumbs tease your nipples, palms squeezing your breasts and making your back arch into him.

He removes one hand, reaching down to discard his boxers onto the floor. Finally, he grips his weeping cock in his fist, thumb running over the angry red tip. You gasp at the size of him, letting your eyes take in every inch, every vein. Committing him to memory.

“So fucking big, Ollie,” you murmur, reaching a tentative hand out, running a fingertip gently along his shaft. You’re almost surprised he lets you, and you don’t miss the way his jaw clenches in an attempt to keep his composure.

His large, warm palms move to your thighs, parting them for him. His tongue pokes out to lick his lips at the sight of you spread open for him, completely bare and wet with both his saliva and your arousal. In a moment of boldness, you pull him to you by the chain around his neck, your tongue instantly finding its way into his mouth. He exhales heavily, your tongues licking fervently into each other’s mouths, lips grazing.

You register the feeling of him lining his cock up at your entrance, the tip pressing against your folds. He slips inside, a groan leaving his lips as a shrill moan of his name leaves yours. The way he stretches you is bliss, there’s no other word for it. Pleasure that just barely teeters on the edge of pain, his cock reaching spots inside of you that your fingers could only hope to. He dips his head slightly, trailing kisses along your jawline until he reaches your ear, biting at the lobe. He starts with slow, calculated thrusts, his fingers digging harshly into your hips.

Your breathing is ragged, sinful sounds leaving you over and over as he starts to fuck you faster.

“Bet I feel so much better than your fingers, hm? Is this what you wanted all along? My cock stretching you out?” he asks, voice breathy and low. His words send shockwaves right to your core, turning you on even further.

“Yes, god, yes. Thought about this every night, Ollie. Wished you’d sneak into my room and have your way with me,” you confess, your cheeks growing warm as he smirks at you.

“Dirty little girl,” he tsks, letting his forehead rest against yours, fucking into you hard and fast.

The sounds of skin on skin mix with his pretty noises and yours; grunts and whines and sighs that reverberate off of the walls. Your nails claw at his shoulders, grounding yourself as his cock drives into your sweet spot again and again and again. Your eyes go wide when you watch him dip his head, spitting down onto your pussy, adding to the slippery mess that you’ve already created.

When he looks back up at you, your lips are parted in awe, your eyes begging for him to give you more. Spit in my mouth, please, is the unspoken cry that he understands instantly.

He grabs your face in one hand, squishing your cheeks hard enough that your lips part further. Your eyes roll back into your skull as he lets a string of saliva fall into your waiting mouth, his fingers tapping the bottom of your chin twice, encouraging you to close your mouth and swallow. You do as he wants, willing to swallow whatever he’d give you.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, slowing his thrusts briefly, giving you long and passionate strokes before returning to his previous quick pace.

“Oliver, oh my god,” you cry for him, your eyes screwing shut. “Feels so good, don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop.”

You can feel your previously staved-off orgasm approaching once more, the coil in the pit of your gut tightening more and more with each snap of his hips against yours.

“You getting close, baby?” he asks, letting his fingers wrap around your throat and squeeze. It gets the reaction he wants, your eyes snapping open and focusing on him. “That’s right, you look at me when I’m making you feel this good,” he instructs, letting go of your neck. “Otherwise, you don’t get to cum.

“Y-yes sir,” you comply. “Please make me cum, I’m so fucking close, Ollie, need it so bad,” you beg, making sure to keep your eyes on his. That stunning, icy blue pierces through your soul, sending a chill down your spine. His stare is intimidating, raising the hairs on your neck just as it did each time you weren’t quite sure who was watching you.

He bites down hard on your shoulder, rutting into you faster and faster until you’re finally tumbling over the edge. Your orgasm hits you in overwhelming waves, your walls clenching tight around his thick length.

“Oliver, Oliver, Oliver,” you chant his name, a prayer being raised to the sky as he shows you pure ecstasy.

His movements don’t slow, his lips greedily sucking at your neck before making their way back to your mouth.

“Gonna let me cum inside you sweetheart?” he asks between desperate kisses, your instantaneous nod nearly embarrassing.

“Please cum inside me, need your fucking cum, Ollie,” you respond, lips brushing against his. “Fill me up, make me yours.”

He groans low at your words, eyelids fluttering closed as you feel his cock twitch inside of you. Warm, thick ropes of his cum paint your walls, shuddering breaths leaving him as his head tips back.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he moans, giving you every drop that he has, continuing to rut into you until he’s completely milked dry.

Heavy breaths fill the room, his spent cock slipping out of you, leaving the mixture of your arousals to drip out and onto the floor. Trying to catch your breath, you watch in shock as he drops to his knees once more.

“What are you… what are you doing?” you ask, a sly smile on his face as he looks up at you.

“Just making sure you’re properly cleaned up, is all. Can’t have you going to bed like this,” he muses, collecting some of the sticky mixture with a quick swipe of his tongue. “Just lean back and relax, darling. Got to make up for all those nights you spent alone.”

[zenless-zideblog-zero]

Girls night VS. Boys Night

Zhu-Yuan: *In a High speed chase with a vehicle*THIS IS PUBSEC! PULL YOUR VEHICLE OVER NOW!

Nicole: *in passenger seat Old Smokey, the car Zhu-yuan's chasing* Be careful! This thing hasn't been serviced in a good while!

Piper: *Driving* I can tell. These tires haven't been rotated in at least six years, and I can't begin to imagine how old the oil is. You should take better care of this old girl~

Belle: Less talk, More Speed!

Corin: Master Proxy, are we in trouble! If I get caught Victoria Housekeeping's reputation will be Ruined! WAH!

Belle: Corin, Sweetheart, please listen to me when I say Ellen and Lucy should have a distraction coming!

~~~~~

Wise: That's ... Twelve Ice Damage, and Nineteen Slashing damage.

Anton: Brometheus Fought the good fight! He believes his friends will save the world, even in his Death!

Wise: Stellar, Arctunoct the Frost-Bringer has just knocked your dear friend unconscious, and the Rituals Almost Complete! He give you the most vile, toxic smirk as he pulls his spear from Brometheus! What do you do?

Billy: Uh, how bad does he look?

Wise: He's decently hurt, but so is the rest of your team. You're the last in the initiative order, and if he's still up when your turn ends, the world may just end.

Billy: Okay then ... Stellar draws his hand-crossbows, looks Arctunoct in his dumb face, and proclaims "You are nothing but a selfish fool! And the Void of your heart will be pierced with STARLIGHT!" and will fire his crossbows.

Billy: And that's- NAT 20!

The Table erupts in cheers

Wise: Okay, how much damage?

Billy: Uuhhm, first I'm throwing Smite on that with my last level two slot and Lightbringer's final Divine Charge, so that's ...

Billy: Twelve piercing, and ... FOURTY THREE RADIANT!

The Table erupts into louder cheers

Wise: okay! WOW! That's a LOT of damage! uh- You Lightbringer's bolt CRACKLE with the fissile power of the stars, bleaching the shadows from view, stirking him square in the heart!

Wise: He clutches the metal piercing his chest, falls to one knee ... *grinning* and Laughs ...

Billy: WHAT!

Anton: NONONO!

Seth: HOW TOUGH IS THIS GUY!

Wise: Spitting up blood Arctunoct wheezes out "And so the light is swallowed by shadow ... a brave show young Paladin, but this ... THIS IS WHERE YOUR SUN BURNS OUT!"

Billy: Hold on! I have one more attack!

Wise: Yes, yes you do.

Billy: okay so that's ... Thirteen.

Seth: Bless!

Billy: Uh, Fifteen?

Anton: Brometheus's Inspiration!

Wise: And inspiration. You just need to roll a three.

Billy: ... I GOT THREE!

The Table erupts in even LOUDER cheers

Wise: Okay, Billy?

Billy: Yeah?!?

Wise: *Writing something down* I'm writing down Exactly how much health he has left, And then I want you to roll your damage.

Billy: Okay ... it's just the one roll ...

Billy: *Rolls Damage*

Billy: Okay,so that's Four damage, plus Five for my dexterity, and one for the Enchantment.

Wise: ... the first shot brought this beast of a man to his knees, but he still breathed.

Wise: Billy ... he had only nine Health after it, How do you Wipe him out?

*Seth, Anton, and Billy Freak the fuck out*

Billy: okAy! Okay! Okay! As he's laughing from the first blow, Stellar whispers under his breathe "It's always Darkest before the Dawn." And send this last bolt right into his neck, causing him to fall into the ritual, and is eviscerated as the spell goes haywire, unfinished!

Wise: Perfect. As his body is wrenched apart by the arcane Energies misfiring, you feel in your heart as you've accomplished what you were meant to do. The World is saved, the Sun just peeks over the horizon, as if to say thank you, to the knight that has let it blaze one more day.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 14

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on the amazing @discoscoob 's concept & bot!

Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, dubcon/nsfw. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS!!!

one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven. twelve. thirteen.

Fourteen 十四

When the end of the day comes, you do not dare defy Donaka again so soon. You report to his room–and find it strangely empty. 

A single lamp burns at the bedside. You slowly make your way through, half expecting him to jump out at you just to hear you scream. But all you find is a note, with a beautiful little potted orchid beside it. The flower is certainly an unexpected touch, and you can’t stop yourself from stroking the meaty white petals. 

You read:

I’ll be out late. Make yourself comfortable. -D

There is a nightgown set out upon the bed. It looks like real silk, and you are relieved it’s nothing too ridiculous, no complicated straps or suggestive cutouts. Just soft, ivory colored fabric, thin straps, a little tasteful lace. You peek at the tag, and nearly fall over when you see Yves Saint Laurent. 

This garment may have cost as much as a plane ticket home.

You wander into the bathroom next, your brightly printed little travel bag of toiletries looking fairly ridiculous next to his sleek black boutique purchased items. You open a bottle of his lotion, taking an experimental sniff. Something light, slightly herbal. You’re fairly sure the characters on the label aren’t Chinese, but Korean. You put it down. 

You hate to admit that Donaka’s rainhead shower is pretty fucking fantastic after a long hard day. And so is his soft mattress, that feels like laying on a cloud. You don’t even have the energy to snoop around while he’s not here–and he’s probably watching you anyway. You’re not sure where the camera is yet, but you are sure it’s there.

You think on how the room is unlocked now, but you do not dare attempt an escape tonight. You almost wonder if this is a test–or a trap. It would be just like him to bait you like that. 

Feeling slightly cheeky since you’re all alone, you take your half out of the middle of the big bed, and snuggle up with a pillow that smells delectably of him. Even in his absence, you cannot escape Donaka Mark. Have fun watching me snore you big creep.  

You wonder where he is, before sliding into a surprisingly deep sleep.

You don’t know what time it is, only that it is still dark out, when he slips into bed behind you, moulding his long body around yours. You are not quickly coherent when woken from the depths of dreamland. In fact, it could be said that you are downright stupid. The sharp edges of your earlier fight forgotten in this state, you groan, snuggling back into his warmth. “Back so soon from committing acts of villainy?” you murmur.

You only think you’re making a joke.

His soft chuckle behind you is pure dark chocolate–bitter, yet somehow delicious. “Mmm hmm.” You slowly undulate against him as his big hand runs over your curves, the thin silk barrier between you a wickedly marvelous thing. “Were you a good girl while I was away?” His voice is a gravely rumble in your ear that curls your toes. 

“I thought about setting the house on fire, but I like it too much,” you grumble into the pillow. 

Again, he laughs lowly, a deep sound that awakens your desire once more. “I know you like it here,” he whispers into your hair, a possessive hand cupping your breast, lightly teasing your nipple. “I think you even like me. Just admit it.” 

“Not right now, I don’t,” you grumble, even as you writhe back against him, his erection pressing into the seam of your bottom a maddening thing. Maybe you’re still half asleep–but you really have lost your goddamn mind for this man. All thoughts of revenge have flown for now, replaced only by the warm, slow simmer of need for his body pressed against yours.

“No? Doesn’t feel like it.” You sigh as he slips his hand beneath the skirt of your nightie, finding nothing but bare skin, no panties to your name. “Oh, I like this,” he tells you, running his fingers up the sensitive seam of your legs. A plaintive whine escapes you, as he places his velvety fever-hot flesh between the soft cushion of your thighs, teasing you. “It feels…” He moves his hips just slightly, bestowing the barest minimum of friction. “Like you actually obeyed me for once.” 

It’s true. You didn’t give in to the low-burning desire that nearly drove you insane all the rest of the day. Partly because of his orders, and the way he scared you today, and partly…because you knew it just wouldn’t be as good without him.  

You growl into your pillow, hoping the cushioned down will mask some of your need for this man’s thick, beautiful cock inside you. It’s not fair, that such a bad man should be built as though the very shape of him was made for pleasing you.  

“What was that?”

“Just this once,” you sigh, and he chuckles behind you. 

“Hmm. I think someone wants her reward.” 

You hadn’t forgotten about it, though you’d figured at this point you’d never find out what he’d had in store for you. You doubt you’ll ever meet his standards for truly good behavior. 

“I want this,” you answer, squeezing his manhood between your thighs, angling yourself so that you almost capture the tip of him at your entrance. The sound he makes from deep in his chest raises gooseflesh all across your skin, your nipples tightening into aching points. You were no blushing virgin before you came here, but jesus christ has this man turned desire into a painful business for you. You’ve never wanted anyone before, to the point where you would throw yourself on a fire for them. It’s what this feels like, with Donaka Mark. Absolute self-immolation, and maybe you’re doing it with a reluctance, but it’s certainly not enough to stop you. 

He takes some mercy on you, and maybe on himself, when he grips your hip to penetrate your weeping cunt. But all he gives you is the tip, and glorious as it is, it’s just not enough. 

“More,” you whimper, and you’re not sure who breaks, when he eases himself home, filling you to the absolute brim. The sound of surprised satisfaction that is torn from your throat is barely human. You might regret it later, but at the moment you feel no pain. 

“I’m trying not to hurt you,” he grumbles. “But when you beg me so sweetly I want to fuck you silly, my sweet sweet girl.” 

You laugh, a strained huff of mirth, at the idea of him not hurting you. You know what he means, and yet…and yet. 

Coherent thought escapes you completely, when his thick fingers seek out your clit while he fills you like this from behind. You clench upon him greedily, needing more. He lets you take what you want upon him, gyrating your hips, fucking yourself upon his cock and his slippery fingers as his other hand teases the tips of your breasts, holding you fast against his broad chest. After walking around all day in your sad state of unfulfillment, your orgasm quickly fills you, tearing a ragged scream from your throat as the tingling ecstasy spills through your loins and spreads through your body, leaving you utterly spent and pliable in his arms.  

Only as you clench and flutter upon him does Donaka take his own pleasure, rolling you over to thrust from behind. Through the haze of your euphoria you are vaguely aware that he is still careful with you, and does not punish you like he could. The shudder of his hips and the hot rush of his seed is almost soothing inside you, and you know you are well and truly fucked. Completely deranged. Flown high over the cuckoo’s nest for this terrible man who has made his way inside your body, and inside your head. 

His gentle kiss on the back of your shoulder sears you like a brand–his forehead resting on your spine weighs like your inevitable surrender. Has he already won?

You don’t know. You don’t fucking know, this late at night, when you are rendered idiotic by desire and hormones and lack of sleep. For what feels like the umpteenth time that day, your eyes fill with tears and you are so glad for the darkness of the room that gives you some cover. 

When he recovers Donaka goes to the bathroom to clean up, bringing you a warm soft cloth to swipe between your thighs. As usual you aren’t sure if he’s caring for you, or simply doesn’t want you to stain the sheets and your new couture sleepwear. Maybe you’ll never truly know with this man, if his actions are based out of care or practicality with you. It’s a daunting thought you are too sleepy to give proper attention to. 

Donaka pulls you back into his arms, and you rest your cheek upon his broad chest, your legs entwined with his. 

“Where did you go tonight?” you ask quietly, not really expecting him to answer you, but partly hoping he will tell you something dastardly so that you can talk yourself out of this insane warmth that is blooming in your chest, taking root in your mind like some kind of brain-eating parasite.  

“I was watching a fight,” he tells you simply. 

“Like…a tournament match?” 

“Usually it’s more interesting than that.” He kisses your hair. “Not tonight though.” 

What he doesn’t tell you directly, is that the whole affair rather bored him, and tonight, he couldn’t wait to come home to you. The fighter he’d been cultivating failed to finish things the way Donaka wanted, so he’d killed him with his bare hands. Even that didn’t give him the pleasure it used to. Once he would have basked in the power of it, the feeling of superiority over yet another fighter culled, an imposter who had no right to the true title of Warrior. But tonight, he could not stop thinking that this is a side of him he could never show to you. 

It would ruin everything. 

This night, he just got into his Bugatti, and tore home with his mind on you. 

Annoyed by the time he came through the door, he stood at the foot of the bed for a good ten minutes just watching you sleep, wondering who was changing who. He reasoned that he just has to be careful with you; that his obsession does not come to rule him, rather than the other way around. A part of him wondered, as you slept so innocently, if he should just dispose of you now and return to his purer pursuits. 

The thought did not please him, so this time, he chose not to. 

Oblivious to all this, you lay there wondering why his chosen diversion wasn’t interesting to him. Did it have anything to do with you? 

“Donaka–” 

“Sleep,” he tells you firmly, shutting you down, and effectively leaving you with that one last enigmatic line to worm its way into your thoughts. Like a parasite, you try to tell yourself. A gross, wormy, wriggly thing. 

But this man whose side you are curled up against doesn’t feel like a worm. He feels warm and solid and his strong, steady heart is beating like a drum beneath your ear. You like this, and maybe he’s right. Maybe you do like him, a little bit. 

You really are well and truly fucked. 

all chapters

[aquz]

babysitter . . . # one

☆ ortho has a temporarily new babysitter and idia has to walk him there every morning before school. idia isn't a fan of clichés but... who knew the babysitter was so cute?

☆ gender neutral reader, reader is kind of a shut-in yet is good with kids, strangers to crushes with idia shroud featuring ortho ! magicless au !

idia groans as he drags his feet down the stairs, clutching onto the railing as to not fall down. sure, he knew what he was getting into by staying up all night playing a new video game he was obsessed with as well as studying for an upcoming mock exam, but he still doesn't feel exactly... awake this morning.

his eyes sleepily gaze towards the kitchen, where he could recall hearing his mothers voice. they're usually never in the kitchen... that's where the housekeeper is supposed to be. in fact, where is she? idia couldn't smell the fresh coffee she brewed normally, or the smell of his favorite breakfast... toaster waffles.

he slumped into the kitchen and sees his entire family getting themselves ready with breakfast. ortho sits at the island in the middle of the kitchen and dining area, the latter only being used for at-home business and fancy friends-only dinners. "where's the housekeeper?" idia groggily asked, swinging open the freezer to dig around, looking for his waffles.

"ah, you're awake, idia!" his mothers sweet voice cooed, idia could already feel what little stamina points he had left, drain completely. "she had to leave late last night due to a family emergency... so it's just going to be you and ortho home for a while!" she said, gliding her feet across the floor to put her warm hands into idia's face. he gave her a deadpan look, closing the freezer when he finally grabbed the box of waffles.

"that being said..." his father began, catching idia's attention over his mom cooing at him like he was a baby. "you have to attend school in person, no? we found a temporary babysitter who is in need of a little extra spending money. they live close enough to here as well as being around your age, so your mother and i decided they were a good choice."

idia deadpanned harder than before, if that was even possible. his shoulders slumped as he felt a headache begin to form. "eh? a new babysitter? so, like, ortho has to stay at someone else's house? with a stranger?" he asked slowly. "yes, that!" his mother answered with such enthusiasm that idia almost stormed back upstairs. too much energy for one morning. "you have to drop him off before you head to school! luckily, they live on the route you normally take! i'll text you the address!" she added.

idia shook his head and put the waffles back in the freezer, feeling too sick to eat. he has to drop ortho off HIMSELF!? what do his parents take him for!? he has zero charisma points and negative socialization experience! does he just... knock on the door and run away while ortho stands there like a framed ding-dong-ditcher? what if you try talking to him? ugh! now he's so nervous he can't even eat his favorite breakfast.

ortho, on the other hand, had been too excited to listen in on the conversation. he was scarfing down his breakfast of cereal like his life depended on it. at least SOMEONE had yet to annoy idia. ortho was dressed in an oddly nice outfit, a short-sleeved dress shirt and some dress shorts along with his normal sneakers and knee-high socks. "what's with the outfit?" idia managed to mumble, walking past his parents to get to his little brother.

"i wanted to impress the new babysitter!" he smile, mouth full of cereal. "but isn't that material, like, super uncomfortable? it's summer... dress outfits are hardly comfortable to wear in this heat." idia said, leaning on the counter to talk to the younger boy. "yeah, yeah, i know! i'll gladly wear it, if it means i get to impress them!" he replied before jumping off his stool. idia's mother laughed at his eagerness as he ran to find his bag.

"what a lovely child he is.." she sighed happily, which idia hung his head to, in response. how come HE was never called lovely? with an eye roll hidden by the hair blocking his down-cast face, he went to find his own shoes and bag.

ortho held tightly onto the straps of his backpack, a serious face present as if he was attending his first day of military boot camp. "loosen up, ortho, they aren't going to scold you for being happy." 'i hope..' idia thought. ortho smiled and laughed childishly, looking up at his brother despite the unforgiving sun casting harmfully bright rays down on them. 'it's still too early..' idia thought, wiping sweat from his brow. "i know, but i need to calm down, so i don't wear myself out before we can play together!" ortho responded.

idia nodded quietly and looked up, seeing the address he was sent by his mother. no cars were in the driveway, nor were there any lights on in the house minus the living room light. 'is this... the right house?' idia gulped as he took ortho's hand and guided him up the steps onto the porch. he rung the doorbell and kept himself from fainting on the spot. what if it was the wrong house and some creep opened the door instead? what if it was a trap?

the door opened slowly as a teenager, idia assumed, peered through the crack, smiling once they saw him. the door swung open the rest of the way. "hi! you must be ortho and..." the teenager stuck their tongue out a little on concentration. "idia, right? your parents told me you were dropping him off." they said, idia remaining still as if they couldn't see him if he didn't move. "ah- um..." ortho laughed at his shy brother. "yes, that's us! excuse my brother, he's just super duper nervous! he also has to take a mock exam soon, so he's definitely not happy."

"oh, is that so? well i assume you're off to school, then? i won't keep you here any longer, so i'll take ortho and you're free to go!" the other teen said, moving so ortho could get through the doorway. idia kept his mouth opening and closing like a fish. they weren't too overly energetic for this early in the morning, nor were they necessarily scary... hell, they weren't even that overbearing! they were just... so gorgeous. idia was expecting someone totally different - maybe a stuck-up cheerleader or a total nerd but THEM? they weren't the cliche he was expecting.

though, he didn't wanna talk any more than he had already today. with a quick nod, he turned on his heel and briskly walked away from the new babysitter's house, leaving them a giggling mess in the doorway, ortho close behind. "is he always that anti-social, or did i scare him off?" they asked ortho, turning around with a silly grin. "hard telling... but i think you might've spooked him!" ortho returned the grin. "i like you, babysitter!"

authors note? hope this was an interesting first chapter ~ i wrote it a few days ago ! i have nine chapters planned (and that's all, the series will end at the ninth chapter) so i hope it'll be interesting enough ! this is my first series / non-one shot in a while so let's hope it goes well...

[diggity-didge]

I think we need to give that dysfunctional Entrati family iphones ASAP. I want them to be a fucked up family vlog channel where they all have their own social media accounts. They have a jillion subscribers but half of them are out of horror. Like yes someone needs to call the police but also notifications are on for their next post

Their most popular video is the candy salad/trauma dump trend. There ends up being a fistfight and it goes viral

They have, for better or worse, become a part of internet culture. Reaction images, video clips, memes, quotes, have all come from their videos. People dress up as them for "meme day" during spirit weeks.

Their let's play streams are INSANE. Yelling, cursing, airing family secrets out, the whole nine yards. Father and Daughter usually win if the game includes PvP/fighting

People can’t tell if they’re rich or not. They have a very large house filled with technology, and are all obviously very intelligent, but their house seems constantly overtaken by rot and vermin and is even crumbling in some places? They don’t seem to mind so fans pretend it isn’t there

Father has a podcast. This is...interesting, as he becomes especially popular with divorced men, but also some of the younger generations think he’s funny because his dad energy is evident. Definitely calls himself the grill master or something corny

Otak and his brother Loid are the family’s housekeeper/utilities guy/family friend and a fan favorite. Two of the most "normal" people featured on the channel

The favorite family member isn’t even related to them by blood. It’s some guy (gender neutral) named Tenno (nicknamed Ayatan) who is the only guest star to date to not attempt to punch Son’s lights in

They all call each other by their family title, and fans don’t know if its either a running bit, they hate each other so much that they refuse to call each other by their name, or the chemicals they’re constantly using in videos has finally got to them. (It's actually a disease so rare they are some of the only currently documented cases, and it's known to mess with memory)

Daughter has a fishing channel. People would use her videos as studying background noise until she started butchering fish on-camera. A lot of her videos get taken down for excessive violence and PETA absolutely HATES her ass. However, swamp and large aquatic animal hunters SWEAR by her DIY bait videos

Son becomes an influencer. This is bad for everyone because he’s constantly doing callouts that are always obvious at who they’re targeted at. He’s especially popular with the queer community because there’s no way someone that bitchy isn’t bisexual and his cadence of speaking is basically textbook gay lisp. Posts shit like “GRWM and storytime: how a family member COLLARED ME over an INCONSEQUENTIAL MISTAKE”

Mother has an educational channel. She’s extremely good at teaching but has also traumatized generations of “her children��� (middle school to phD students) when she reads their comments or takes fan calls. (“You watched all my videos but STILL only got a 63%? PATHETIC! Unsubscribe until you succeed. Half-baked scholars have no need to follow me.”)

One time Tenno performed CPR (?) on the family’s power supply which was in the shape of a heart (??) It’s unsure whether or not it was staged and whether the power supply was fit for human use

When they all post apology videos to each other and begin to not hate each other’s guts, the Internet freaks the FUCK out (they finally got medicated and were forced to talk shit out)

Grandmother is a popular recurring guest and KNOWS it. Constantly reads her family to filth and comments under posts by her family with "Grand MOTHER 💜"

So many fans and other youtubers have entire multiple hours long video essays dedicated to them to figure out what the hell is going on. Anytime the family guests on another channel or podcast the mystery gets deeper and deeper. Is it black mold? Genetics? Sheer human hatred? Who knows!

[dawn-moths]

"Sunflower in the Summer Rain"

Thoma x Female Reader x Ayato

word count: 21,500+

(You’ve been working at the Kamisato estate for a while now and have caught the eye of both your cheerful colleague and your stoic superior. However, after they discover that each other has feelings for you, they have to come up with a plan so they don’t have to fight over you and risk losing each other's friendship. So, as long as you’re ok with it, they suppose they’ll just have to share.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! mostly fluff with smut at the end, slow burn, threesome, size difference, friends to lovers with thoma, mutual pining with both, some hurt/comfort with both, really both of them are sweet to you and wanna take care of you, polyamorous relationship, aftercare.

*ao3 mirror*

***

The soft rays of dawn’s light spilled in through the windows, flooding the estate with pale, buttery light. At this time of morning, the house was as still and silent as a ghost, only the brief shuffle of the first arrivals scraping lightly across the polished floors as they made their way down to the housekeeping quarters to report their attendance and change into their uniforms.

You covered a yawn, dragging your feet a little as you followed suit, still feeling groggy and half asleep. Sometimes it felt like you never left this place. Like you only spent your unconscious hours inside your own home, curled up in bed, as if the idea of rest existed only in a dream.

But that was the life of a housekeeper, you supposed, especially if you worked for a family as prestigious as the Kamisatos. You were the first to arrive and the last to leave. Well, you, specifically, were usually running a little late, but after getting scolded by the head housemaid yesterday for your habit of tardiness, you figured you’d better not do anything to get on her bad side again anytime soon.

“Hey!”

You turned when you heard the familiar voice calling out your name, Thoma’s smile greeting you from across the way and causing a soft, sleepy grin to spread across your face.

“You’re here early!” he remarked merrily as he paced closer to stand before you, always a morning person no matter how many hours of sleep— or lack thereof— he had gotten the night before.

With a light scoff, you responded with a slightly dismal, “Yeah, well, one more write up and I might not be working here anymore…”

“Oh, c’mon!” Thoma chuckled, the sound like the sun coming into view as the lingering clouds parted in the sky. Hands on his hips, he then lowered his voice to a whisper and gave you a playful wink as he said, “Y’know I’d never let that happen.”

“Yes, well…” you rolled your eyes, retaining your lighthearted smile as the hint of something slightly sarcastic tried to work its way in. “We both know that you’ll never lose your job. Not when you’re best friends with the boss, at least.”

Thoma walked beside you now, taking note of your state of exhaustion and asked, “Did you sleep at all last night?”

You shot him a glance that was almost guilty, apologetic as you vaguely admitted, “Technically, yes, I did.” And then, unable to bear the weight of his concerned stare, you added on after another yawn, “For a couple of hours, at least…” Before he could begin to lecture you about how important getting enough rest was, you turned the question onto him. “But what about you? How is it you’re always so full of energy this early?”

Thoma grinned, but it was a little crooked, like he was hiding something. “Ah, y’know… Same as you, probably. But when I started to think about all the work that needs to be done this week I got a little restless…”

When the two of you reached the housekeepers quarters, you temporarily parted ways while you changed clothes and took stock of all your supplies. You started waking up a little more once you began to shift into work mode, but you had a feeling today was going to be a long one.

“Which wing are you assigned to?” Thoma asked once the two of you rejoined, traveling down one of the long hallways side by side once again, Thoma making sure to match your stride so as to avoid causing you to rush to catch up to him.

“West, I think…” you answered a little unsurely, suddenly doubting whether you’d read the posting correctly or not. “What about you?”

Thoma never stayed in one wing for an entire day. He was always bouncing from one corner of the estate to the next, making sure any and all loose ends were tied up, visiting you when he had the chance, and then, of course, attending to some more specific work the eldest Kamisato had entrusted him with. You also knew that Thoma was the only member of the housestaff allowed in Ayato’s personal quarters. You’d tried to press him for details about what it was like in there before but all Thoma seemed to offer in response was that it was big and, as expected for someone who was rarely there, kept meticulously organized.

“Have you ever found anything interesting or weird in there?” you’d curiously inquire. “Does he collect anything? What’s the coolest thing he owns?”

But Thoma would always avoid your questions, just saying something along the lines of, “I’m in there to clean, not spy on him,” and that would usually be the end of that conversation.

As you two exchanged some more last minute small talk, you let out a big yawn, which Thoma then caught, leaving him smiling a little and joking, “I better get going before your sleepiness rubs off on me.”

You cracked a grin and rolled your eyes. “Better watch out. Too much time around me and you might start spontaneously napping.”

Thoma let out a chuckle. “Can you imagine?” he said, and in all truth, you couldn’t. Even on his most busiest, exhausted day, Thoma was somehow able to put on a mask of energy and delight and get the job done. On one hand, you envied that ability in him, on another, it sort of freaked you out.

“Well don’t push yourself too hard,” you reminded him. “Even you need to sleep eventually. Besides…” You tipped your chin up, turning your body halfway in the opposite direction of him, nose sticking up in playful mockery as you perched your broom before you like a sword stuck down into the stones, a valiant weapon for a fearless soldier, so long as clearing dust bunnies was considered an act of selfless bravery. “If you don’t watch out for your health, maybe I’ll rise up the ranks and become Master Kamisato’s new head housekeeper instead.”

Thoma let out another one of those bright bursts of laughter. The careless kind. The kind that sounded so genuine, even at something as ridiculous as your little comment. “You wish!” he teased, lightly nudging at your broom with his foot to send you stumbling off balance. You stifled a giggle as you regained your stance and went to swing the sweeping end of the broom at him, purposely missing but still causing him to jump back a pace or two.

“Just ‘cause you’re the only one of us who regularly sees the head of the Kamisato clan face to face doesn’t mean that he’s not still keeping an eye on the rest of us,” you reminded Thoma with a little more sternness. You then took up a much more conservative posture, pretending to sweep the already spotless floor as you concluded with, “He could be watching us right now, for all we know.”

“And what about that?” Thoma gestured to the ring you were wearing and you quickly clapped your other hand over it. You knew wearing jewelry while on duty was prohibited, and if the head housemaid caught you wearing it you’d be written up for sure, but still, you just couldn’t help yourself.

“What about it?” you replied, a little defensive. Thoma had never ratted you out before. Would never even consider it. But that didn’t stop him from worrying that someone else might. All he gave you in response that time was a suggestive raise of his eyebrows. You knew the rules. He didn’t have to remind you. Besides, no matter how many times he’d tried, you never seemed to listen.

“Ok, well, just remember…” he sighed, “I can only bail you out so many times.”

Thoma strolled by to pass you, knocking down your proper and professional act as he tousled your hair, the simple motion earning him a disgruntled whine of, “Thomaaaaaa!” before sending you back into a fit of giggling as you danced about the confines of the hall around him, movements swift and excited as if urging him on into a chase.

“Just keep up the good work and you’ll have nothing to worry about,” he quipped, shooting you one of those boyishly devious smirks from over his shoulder as he continued on his way. “Or else I’ll have to tell the boss you’ve been slacking off!”

“Yeah, right!” you called after him, your voice echoing slightly through the spacious halls. Thoma turned the next corner and was gone, off to begin his long list of work for the day. If you were lucky and stayed on schedule, you might get to see him during the afternoon break. That chance alone was enough to get you moving doubletime. Meanwhile, as you began your work, you used the secret version of him you kept tucked into the corner of your mind to help pass the time.

Thoma was like the sun, you always thought— bright and warm, his presence alone enough to boost your mood and energy. Once, you’d grown brave enough to tell him that to his face, and since then he’d started to joke that, if he was the sun, you must be his pretty little sunflower, always turning towards him to open your vibrant petals.

That’s usually when you’d give him a nudge, tell him to get back to work as you tried, and failed, to wrestle the awkward smirk from your lips, feeling your ears growing hot with his flirtatious comments, however seemingly innocent they might’ve been intended to sound.

But, for as long as you’d worked as a maid for the Kamisato estate, your housekeeping colleague had never tried to make any real moves on you. Every time you thought maybe today would be the day he finally asked you on a proper date, even if the opportunity presented itself, Thoma seemed to insist on continuing your shared game of will they won’t they.

Thoma liked to see you smile, make you laugh, and— when he was feeling a little mischievous— become the reason for your flustered giggling and blushing cheeks. But, unlike most of the other patrolling guards, shopkeeps, and various locals who’d tried their hand at pretty words to woo you, he was the only one you actually gave the time of day.

Which was why this game was becoming rather frustrating.

Most days, you wished he’d do something. Anything. So much as a gentle brushing of his hand against yours, a sultry glance that turned into both of you holding each other’s stares for a little too long to read as just friends, a hand on your hip to guide you closer to him as he reached above you for something high up in a cabinet that you couldn’t quite grasp…

The golden haired, gleeful boy with the kind green eyes and sunshine smile had captivated you, as you were sure he had many of the other female housestaff— even some of your male co-workers, as you’d heard through the quiet mumbling and gossip that drifted through the distinguished halls after hours— yet you couldn’t allow yourself to get your hopes up too high.

Because you didn’t have reason to believe that Thoma’s attentive and genuine disposition towards you was exclusive.

Sure, you’d never seen or heard him interacting with others the way he did with you, besides the fact he was generally pleasant with everyone, if he could help it. Yet still you continued to hope and wish and pray that maybe tomorrow he’d drift a little too close to be regarded as professional.

But so far it seemed like you were just another sunflower in his garden, rooted deep into the warm earth and destined to only admire him romantically from afar.

At least you two could share lunches together, pick little samples from each other’s bento boxes and then laugh when one of you tried to toss up a piece of food and catch it in your mouth only to completely miss, sending the morsel rolling across the tatami mats or into the freshly raked sand gardens. Taroumaru would come scampering by to clean it up, if you two found yourselves working at the Komore Teahouse that day.

You usually preferred getting assigned to Komore Teahouse because that usually meant it would just be you and Thoma, providing you plenty of time to banter and several opportunities to slack off. You hoped you’d end up back there again in the near future, but for now, having been assigned to the main Kamisato estate and all its arching architecture and opulent wealth, generations of strict tradition and strategic marriages subliminally laced into every hand-crafted piece of furniture or masterfully painted portrait that lined the wide, spanning halls, you’d just have to settle for the bits and pieces of his time and attention you could get.

Snapping from your daydreaming, you returned to your previous task. You did have use for the broom in your hands, after all, same as the duster at your hip and the rag tucked into the pocket of your skirts.

The West Wing needed to be tended to so that the Kamisatos could host a very important meeting in one week’s time. Something about discussing the Yashiro Commission’s new role among the Tri-Commission what with the Vision Hunt Decree recently being abolished and all. Anything else you knew about it was merely pieces of gossip you’d overheard being shared among the other housestaff at the end of the day.

Like a majority of the other maids, you’d never seen the master you served in person, as he was both extremely busy with work that often sent him away from the estate and, in the few and far between moments he was home, skillfully elusive to the public eye and much more inclined to seek out the solitude within his own domain.

Maybe, if you were lucky— you imagined as you washed windows and mopped floors— you’d get a chance to catch a glimpse of the head of the clan for yourself over the coming days. Because, as was another tidbit of chitchat you’d overheard from some of the nosier maids, Ayato Kamisato was said to be extremely handsome. A gentleman too, from the sound of it. Every shred of speculation you collected about him, the more your curiosity grew eager at the prospect of catching just a glimpse.

As you pondered before the window you’d just finished cleaning, you absentmindedly began to fidget with your ring. It was your most prized possession— the only real reminder you had left of home. Not the tiny apartment you currently resided in, but the cottage of your childhood, a space nestled among the sloping valleys of the Inazuman countryside, a quiet refuge from the hustle and bustle of the city. The one where your mother and younger siblings still lived.

A home you may never get to see again before it was empty, you sometimes feared, but then reminded yourself to work hard so hopefully you could one day return.

And wasn’t it a little ironic? You’d gone off to care for the home of someone who was rarely ever around to enjoy or appreciate it, yet you missed yours so much it often made your heart ache, only able to carry around its memories.

It wasn’t until the head housemaid snapped at you to stop daydreaming and get back to work that you realized just how long you’d been gazing wistfully out the window, skittering along to return to your chores.

***

Ayato rarely had a moment to rest.

His packed schedule and endless itinerary of business related travel and events meant that he was away from the comfort and familiarity of his own home more than he was among it.

But, as he’d been reminded of since being born into such a prestigious and powerful bloodline as the Kamisatos, and as the eldest son no less, he was expected to carry out his duties as head of the Yashiro Commission with poise and precision.

Yet, the mysterious figure, though revered by most, was not without his criticisms…

“He’s arrogant.”

“He indulges himself too much!”

“He has a mischievous streak…”

All valid observations, Ayato noted privately, yet still he contemplated a way to eliminate them from the public sphere.

His housestaff had their own opinions of him too. More favorable, perhaps, but still troublesome, if left unchecked.

“He’s so handsome.”

“I think he looked directly at me today!”

“He even has a Vision. Imagine how powerful he must be…”

Ayato Kamisato had handpicked every single guard, butler, maid, chef, gardener— you name it— himself. He had the power to keep them, even if some of his advisors thought some of the female staff were a little too pretty for Ayato’s own good, and he also had the power to let them go, no explanations required.

But, even with every body type, facial structure, complexion, hair color, and temperament to choose from right under his own roof, Ayato only had one who’d really caught his eye…

You.

While you were among the newer batch of young and excitable maids— so honored, so grateful to be working for such a distinguished clan as the Kamisatos— he had still found himself drawn to you quickly.

Not just because of your unique and effortless beauty, the mixture of your feminine softness and boyish banter, but because he had a feeling— after all the years observing various kinds of young women both inside and outside of his influence and control— that you were different.

What you searched for in people wasn’t wealth or status or pedigree.

It was kindness and humor and empathy.

And he’d observed you with Thoma, the natural way you two interacted, how quick you both could put smiles on each other’s faces— like two mirrors reflecting joy back and forth between each other, all familiar warmth and tenderness.

He saw you two become playful, heard your lilting laughter echoing down the halls, sometimes catching the little quips you threw the housekeeper’s way when he started getting a little too rowdy, only for him to shush you and remind you to be mindful of the volume of your voice, which usually just earned him an eye roll and a mocking repetition of his previous remark.

You were a little firecracker, at times, a delicate, flickering flame at others, swaying back and forth over the polished floors as you hummed a melancholy tune during your chores.

Ayato wanted to get to know both sides of you, the same way Thoma had.

He wanted you to show them to him willingly, not only engage in them when you thought no one was watching and then hide them away like a fox burrowing into its hole when a superior— especially the head of household— walked by, scared into hiding by the hunting hounds.

But Ayato knew he was different too. So different from you. Different from Thoma. Different from all of the people who got to walk through their lives saying and doing as they pleased.

He knew that, unlike most of the other maids, with his name or title alone, he could never win you over. He’d have to bear his heart, such a fragile, guarded thing, and be prepared for you to still deny him.

The very thought terrified him, shook him to his core.

Ayato had faced perilous battles, outwitted dangerous foes, navigated through the years with the attitude of someone who was used to getting what they wanted but the mind of someone who knew they couldn’t really have everything.

So, now that he was back in some sort of proximity to you, the eldest Kamisato continued to watch.

He collected your effortless smiles and gentle laughter like secret, shiny trinkets, only ever getting close enough to remain invisible, often tucked around the corner of his study with his back pressed to the wall, sneaking careful glances through the crack in the door when you hurried by to meet the beck and call of the head housemaid and receive your next assignment.

At night, when your work was done at the main estate, he’d gaze out the window of his study and find himself smiling as your little silhouette strolled through the zen gardens below and disappeared around the grand front entrance gates. He’d try and catch you arriving in the morning sometimes too, but was rarely ever awake early enough to beat you to the beginning of your busy schedule.

But perhaps that was why Thoma had gotten to you first, been able to create a little nest of affection in your heart. The golden haired boy was like the sun, and you his sunflower, always opening your vibrant petals and turning them his way, letting him see the joy he’d helped nurture and create.

For Ayato, someone of the moon and the stars and the storming rains that came and went in the night, most times the only indication left behind that it had happened at all being the water sleek pavement the morning after…

How could he ever expect you to open up your petals to him?

You might as well have lived in two different worlds.

Yet, perhaps, if Ayato were to find his moon passing the sun in a rare eclipse, then maybe, just maybe, he could bask in the gold of your flowers, even if only for a fleeting moment.

***

“All done for the day?” Thoma pleasantly inquired, wearing his signature smile and posed in a confident stance. You’d just returned the cleaning equipment to the downstairs supply closet and he’d made you jolt as you came up the stairs, not expecting to see him standing right around the corner.

“Yeah,” you sighed, clutching your heart and wearing a worn out expression, though still trying to pep yourself up a little bit to match his unwavering amiable energy. “Finally… This upcoming meeting has us all working overtime.”

Eventually, you and Thoma began to walk out together, chatting about the quickly approaching event, all the importance surrounding it and how every detail had to be precisely in place when the day finally arrived.

For now, you could kiss your hopes of being sent over to Komore Teahouse for the afternoon goodbye. It was going to be crunchtime at the Kamisato estate until the conference commenced, only being able to relax once the very last guest exited through those gold embellished entrance gates. At least, you’d be able to relax until the next day when your endless list of chores would inevitably begin again…

“You know Ayato— uh— the Yashiro Commissioner, don’t you?” you promptly amended, unsure if it was improper to refer to the master you served by first name so casually, even if it was around a fellow colleague and trusted friend.

Thoma nodded, holding the door open for you before following behind and exiting the grand mansion for the day, the sunset over Inazuma painted with its usual lavenders and peaches, periwinkles and golds. “Sure do,” he replied. Then, without you even needing to ask he elaborated, “I may be his housekeeper, but I’m also his friend. Same goes for Miss Kamisato— Ayaka— as well. I’m not as close with his sister but, from my experience, she’s as kind and dignified as they come.”

“But what’s he like?” you then pressed a little further, your curiosity about the mysterious figure getting the better of you yet again. “I mean, when he’s not being the Yashiro Commissioner, is he still all like, proper and elegant or however everyone describes him all the time?”

Thoma smirked to himself.

The Ayato that he knew— the real Ayato— was still graceful and gentlemanly, yet carried an edge of mischief and frivolity. When he shared this with you, you perked up a bit, hungry to learn more.

“And, god, he’s so good at strategy games!” Thoma exclaimed, half in frustration, half in awe. “I swear, I must’ve played him at least a hundred times in shogi— never beat him once! Friend or not, he doesn’t go easy, and he definitely doesn’t ever let anyone win!”

You felt a crooked smile work its way onto your face then, breathing out an amused puff of a sigh from your nose. “So all you guys do all day is play games?” you asked, sounding a little sardonic. You then leaned on Thoma’s shoulder, your sudden weight sending him slightly off kilter as you whined, “C’mooooon, Thomaaaa! I wanna know about him, not how good he is at shogi!”

At this, your colleague raised a brow, catching onto your true motives now. “Oh? Why so curious all of a sudden? What—?” Thoma spun on his heel and walked backwards to face you, causing you to stumble off balance for a moment as your support beam vanished before straightening yourself and huffing out another annoyed sigh. When you met Thoma’s eyes next, the sunlight warmth he usually gave off was gone. Now, his emeralds held a darker quality, something lurking far below the surface and waiting to strike. “Think you have a chance at getting noticed by Ayato Kamisato, himself?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, quickening your pace to pass him and taking the lead in your routine after work stroll. “Please,” you scoffed, tone pulled taut and a bit strained, like the string on an instrument gone out of tune. “I could care less about that, so long as I keep getting my paychecks. What I’m saying is…” Now it was your turn to spin around to face him, the pebbly path under your feet shifting and crunching with each step. “It’s all just a bit strange, isn’t it? That, out of everyone who works for him, you’re the only one who sees his face on the regular. Have actually talked to him— hung out with him!”

Thoma wore a proud, almost mocking look, until you concluded your point with an only slightly cruelly satisfied, “Perhaps Master Kamisato doesn’t have an eye for maids in general.”

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself when Thoma’s expression dropped, instantly jumping to his own defense with a less convincing stammer of, “Ayato and I are not— He’s not—! We’re just friends!”

Feeling rather mischievous that evening, you turned back to walk forward and responded with a lilting tease of, “Whatever you saaaaay…” before you heard Thoma click his tongue, catching him shaking his head out of the corner of your eye.

“You’re just jealous,” Thoma shot back, catching up to stride directly beside you.

“Of your rich boyfriend,” you retorted, “well, obviously.”

Thoma threw an arm across your shoulders and pulled you into his side, ruffling your hair around and making you shout in mostly unbothered protest until you both were laughing with each other again.

You wished that your walk home would last a little longer on nights like this, when you were both having fun poking at each other but always in a good-spirited and harmless way. Just as the skyline of Inazuma City came into sight from down the hill, you began to fidget with your ring when a sudden realization hit you.

“Shoot!” you exclaimed in a hushed breath, beginning to double back the way you’d just come.

“What?” Thoma called after you, watching as your hurried walk morphed into a frantic jog. “What is it?”

“I forgot something back at the estate!” you shouted over your shoulder, your jog now becoming a run. “Just go on without me! Sorry!”

You didn’t quite make out what Thoma responded with, your heart beat already pounding in your ears as you willed your legs to go faster, cursing yourself for making such a stupid mistake.

You just hoped that you made it back in time to retrieve your most prized possession before one of the lingering maids discovered it, mistook it for trash, and discarded it.

***

As you burst back into the maids’ quarters, your heart fluttered with relief upon finding that your beloved belonging was not lost to you, but then, as it registered to you who was currently holding said belonging, your stomach sank with a deep, heavy dread— your heart an anchor plummeting beneath choppy waves.

Even without the family portraits whose frames you relentlessly dusted and polished day in and day out, so used to studying the careful, oil paint strokes from the art pieces, you still would’ve recognized him. 

Ayato Kamisato was, after all, the kind of man you’d remember even after one quick glance.

“Such interesting craftsmanship…” the Yashiro Commissioner remarked, almost as if to himself, as he gripped the tiny wooden ring between his thumb and forefinger, holding it up to the light and staring through the middle, examining it. “I wonder, was it made from a Thunder Sakura, by chance?”

Absolutely dumbfounded, you stood in the doorway, chest still heaving with the remnants of your panting breaths, ears slightly ringing, hair tousled from whipping in the wind, and eyes wide as the master you served locked stares with you.

If the head housemaid had been around, she would’ve smacked you upside the head and hissed at you to bow and show some respect, but you were all alone.

Just you and Ayato Kamisato.

Not another soul in sight.

Your brain was spinning, thoughts leaving your head almost as fast as they could enter it, and you felt a prickling heat rising up your entire body, your ability to speak suddenly lost to you.

You flicked your wild stare back to the ring, the dark, polished wood that— just as Ayato had perceived— was indeed forged of Thunder Sakura, gleaming under the low light.

On days like today, when the floors needed to be scrubbed by hand, each crack in the bamboo boards tended to meticulously, you left your prized ring on the table at your station to ensure it wasn’t damaged by the soap and water that had your hands so dry by the end that they— especially during the bitter winters— would split and crack.

You always made a point to put it back on as soon as you were done, returning all the supplies to your station and being reminded where you’d left it before departing the estate.

But today had been such a long day. By the afternoon you’d been sent running from one wing to the next, too much work to be done and never enough hands when an event as important as the upcoming one was only a few days away. So when one of the maids you were friendly with offered to return your supplies back to your station as she was already on her way, your exhaustion answering for you before your logic could chime in, you’d obliged.

Hence, ring left behind, panic ensuing, and now, as you blinked a few times to refocus your vision, the head of the Kamisato clan in your very presence.

“I’m assuming this is yours…?” Ayato spoke, voice low and soothing, as if trying to prove he wasn’t a threat to you. Next thing you knew, he was standing before you, his shadow engulfing your form, making you feel small under his presence, his gaze calm yet calculating. He held out the ring to you but, despite how worried you’d been about leaving it behind, you were now rather hesitant to take it. Because, as you dared to look up at him to meet those lilac eyes, you realized that the rumors about him couldn’t even begin to match up to the real thing.

The eldest Kamisato wasn’t just handsome and elegant and gentlemanly— He was intimidatingly so.

He was overwhelming, almost god-like in presence with his regal stature and all that ivory fabric cascading down his slender, toned form. Fastened at his hip was a sword, the hilt gleaming with silver and obsidian, tendrils of aqua winding through it with a pulsing glow, as if the weapon were alive.

You shuffled back a half step, swallowing hard. Too bad it did nothing to ease the nervous lump that had formed in your throat.

“Am I wrong…?” he then asked, drawing back his extended hand a fraction, more distance between you and your only piece of home. But as he prepared to close his gloved fist around the object, you found your voice.

“No—!” you blurted out, a crack in your voice causing you to turn a new shade of red. After clearing your throat, you restarted with a slightly calmer, but no less urgent, “It is mine. I left it behind by accident. I…” Ever so slightly, your quivering little hand began to reach for his where your ring sat, dwarfed in his massive, gloved palm. “Can I… Can I have it back, please?” You seemed to remember your manners then, sucking in a quiet gasp before forcing yourself into an awkward bow, adding on a panicked mutter of, “Master Kamisato, Sir.”

Ayato curiously considered the ring in his hand before training his gaze back on you, a soft smile forming across his previously stoic features. Then, before you could even begin to register what was happening, he was gently placing his gloved fingers under your chin, guiding your gaze back upwards until you were standing, your entire face flushed, a dangerous dizziness overtaking you for a moment at the unexpected contact, heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“There’s no need to be so nervous,” Ayato nearly whispered, his lithe fingers still lightly cupping your jaw. For a reason you couldn’t quite place, you felt the threat of tears welling in your eyes, your body beginning to tremble as you stared up at him, unable to tear your eyes away despite wanting nothing more than to snatch the ring and run.

You opened your mouth to speak only for a small squeak to emit from the back of your throat, any more sound than that sure to break the dam you were trying so hard to hold back.

“Here…” Ayato removed his touch from you, used it to take one of your hands in his own, and placed the ring into your open palm, his other hand gently clasping around yours to close your fingers around it. You’d gone numb, not even fully realizing that the object was back in your possession. “Be careful not to lose it again,” he seemed to warn, though with that mischievous, deviously playful air Thoma had told you about laced into his words. With a wink you’d figured you’d imagined, he concluded with, “I may not be around to recover it for you next time.”

And with that, Ayato Kamisato disappeared around the corner, leaving you standing in the doorway of the empty maids’ quarters with your closed fist held out before you for an amount of time you’d lost track of. Maybe it had only been a few short minutes, or perhaps until the sun had sunk fully beneath the horizon that you’d been waiting for your body temperature to lower and your senses to return to you, the weight of the ring weighing heavier in your palm than it ever had before.

When you opened your fist to view it, part of you expected your hand to turn up empty, as if the entire exchange had been some sort of odd and delirious dream. But there it sat, the dark wood still gleaming under the low light.

You slipped it back onto your finger, your hands still slightly shaking, and hurried from the estate, only sure that not too much time had passed once you stepped back out under the sky and saw the moon barely glowing from between the darkened silhouettes of the clouds, the horizon still lined with the thinnest sliver of gold. Yet still, the entire way home, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking…

Had Master Kamisato’s warning been a command to stay vigilant, or rather, had it been a hint on how to possibly run into him after hours again?

***

The following few days of work proved more difficult than any other you could recall.

Whereas normally your constant stream of daydreams helped make your day go faster, your current fantasies only distracted you in all the wrong ways, caused you to misplace things most considered far more important than some old ring, and had your head spinning to such an extent that you often bumped into fellow housestaff in the hallways or had your shoulder colliding with the wall when turning a corner.

“Get your head out of the clouds!” The strict head housemaid had scolded you when you’d accidentally stepped back too far and knocked over a bucket of water meant to clean the windows, several surrounding maids rushing over to soak up the mess before it seeped into the expensive carpet. “Keep acting so negligent and you might find yourself searching for a new place of employment!”

You didn’t know what was wrong with you, but after that, you’d locked yourself in one of the servants’ washrooms and cried, head in your hands and trying to keep as quiet as possible.

“Hey…” a familiar voice spoke softly following two gentle tapping knocks at the door. Instantly, you perked up, holding your breath and keeping still in hopes that they’d think they’d only imagined hearing someone behind the door and continue on.

But Thoma knew you better than that. And you knew him well enough to know that he’d never just continue on if he even suspected you were upset.

“C’mon…” he sighed, a rare sadness twining through his tone. “I know you’re in there…” He leaned against the door, and from under the thin crack you could see his shadow slightly shift. He crossed his arms, lowering his voice to something a little more soothing, and pleaded with you, “Just let me in… You know you can talk to me…”

Before you’d made a conscious decision to let him in, you were reaching forward to crack open the door, falling back into the corner and looking over at him with fresh tears welling in your eyes as he slowly entered the tiny bathroom.

His eyes widened once he saw you, all that jade cracked with concern as he closed the door behind him and shut the both of you into the cramped space, barely enough room for the two of you to stand without breathing each other’s air.

But you were too upset to care about personal space right now, and you surprised the both of you when you reached forward to hug him, burying your face into his shoulder as your body shook with a new wave of sobbing.

Thoma wrapped his arms around you, one hand cradling the back of your head, lightly stroking his fingers through your hair, murmuring, “It’s ok… It’s alright… Everything’s gonna be fine… I’m here…”

Oddly, that only made you cry harder.

Because it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. It wasn’t like he could just tell the head housemaid she couldn’t fire you, that it was up to Master Kamisato and Master Kamisato alone who remained employed under his order or who was let go. It wasn’t like Thoma and the head of the Kamisato clan were close enough to—

You looked up at Thoma, the realization hitting you and forcing an awkward, embarrassed smile to spread crooked across your lips. Upon seeing this expression, Thoma turned a little nervous.

“What are you…?”

“Please, Thoma…” you muttered, sniffling and hiding your face in his shirt again. “Please don’t let him fire me… Please… I need this job. If I lose it I—”

“Whoa— What are you—” Thoma took you by the shoulders and held you out from him just far enough to look you in the eyes, his gaze darting frantically back and forth between yours. “What are you talking about? Why would you be fired? You—”

You looked like you were about to start crying again, so Thoma quickly amended with, “Look, no one’s gonna fire you, ok? Sure, the head housemaid can get… a little ahead of herself sometimes but, trust me…” He smoothed some stray strands of hair away from your face, reaching over to grab one of the towels hanging by the sink to dab away the salty streaks shimmering down your cheeks. “I’d never let anything bad happen to you. Ok?”

You nodded, unable to meet Thoma’s gaze but feeling the gratitude that had sparked in your chest for him finally catch flame, reminding you of all the times he’d cared for you— not just now, but ever since the beginning. Ever since you’d been the newest face at the Kamisato estate, a small town girl already overwhelmed by the opulence you’d be expected to maintain on your first day before any of the real work had even begun.

Thoma, who was always there for you with a snack in between shifts.

Thoma, who insisted on walking you home.

Thoma, who would always look out for you, whether you worked with him or not.

“Hey…” he cooed, taking your chin in his fingers and lifting your gaze to meet his. Just like—

You froze.

Just like Ayato Kamisato had done.

The catalyst that had started everything that had led to this breakdown in the first place.

“You know that, right?” Thoma lightly pressed, and you could see it in his eyes, how badly he wanted— needed— a direct answer from you. A truthful answer.

Your lashes fluttered, blinking rapidly to try and clear away some of the mist in your vision, and replied in a low murmur, “I— I know…”

And then Thoma was leaning in, his lips nearly ghosting against yours, close enough that you could taste the strawberry mochi he’d had for dessert on his breath, and you closed your eyes, anxiety brewing but not enough to cause you to pull away.

Because how long had it been since you’d wanted this— wanted him— whether you were willing to admit to it out loud or not?

“Hey—!” someone called from beyond the door, giving three harsh bangs to further signal their impatience. “How long are you gonna be in there?!”

And then you and Thoma flinched, retracting from one another, shuffling as quietly as you could and knowing that, if the person was still waiting outside, things would only be worse for you if you were caught in that close of quarters with a male member of the housestaff.

“What should we do?” you whispered, worried.

“Just wait…” Thoma replied through a disappointed sigh. “They’ll get impatient and go find somewhere else.”

Sure enough, after another thirty seconds, you both heard an agitated huff and the sound of footsteps trudging off down the hall, clearly having grown tired of waiting.

“I’ll go out first,” Thoma instructed quietly. “Wait a few minutes then just return to work.”

“Thoma, I—”

“Don’t worry,” he interrupted, cracking the door open to take a peek outside. “Everything’s gonna be fine. I’ll even talk to Ayato, if that’s what it comes down to. But for now…” He slipped out of the tiny bathroom, closing the door and speaking to you through the crack, “Just do the best you can, kay?”

He flashed you one last smile before closing the door, leaving you alone once again.

You stood there, almost as if in shock, until you felt like several more minutes had passed. When you emerged, you fell back into line with the other maids, kept your head down, and hoped to evade the head housemaid for as long as possible.

But that night, you didn’t walk home with Thoma. In fact, you hadn’t even seen him for the rest of the day.

So you left the estate on your own, fidgeting with your ring and fighting the urge to relive all the previous catastrophes over and over again in your head.

Because lately, you felt like you were one mistake away from ruining everything.

***

“You’re friends with quite a good number of the maids, are you not?” Ayato suddenly thought to ask Thoma one day while the housekeeper was accompanying him on his afternoon errands.

Thoma thought nothing of it, simply shrugged and answered, “I guess you could say that, yeah.”

Ayato hummed out a note of contemplation, his gaze falling upon a jewelry stand they were passing by, a silver ring with a chunk of crystal marrow glittering among the other precious gems— cor lapis and jade, ruby and sapphire.

Ayato stopped to examine the ring closer, the night he’d found yours returning to his mind.

You’d been hard to read. Nervous, obviously, and rather upset at thinking you’d lost something that belonged to you. But unlike most of the other women Ayato crossed paths with, you’d seemed genuine.

That scared Ayato a little bit.

It also excited him.

Because you were a challenge, like one of his strategic games.

He was going to have fun figuring out how to win you over, and though material gifts seemed the easiest route to take, it was also a test.

Because if that was truly all it took to sway you, then maybe you weren’t the kind of girl he really thought you were.

If that were the outcome, it would be disappointing, yes. But Ayato was a busy man. He didn’t have time to give his affection to just anyone.

“And what of that one maid…?” Ayato continued to casually pry as he lifted the silver ring from its bed, studying it closer, the shopkeep nearly holding his breath upon watching the clearly very wealthy man surveying his wares, hoping for a purchase. “The one who’s always with you?”

Thoma’s pleasantry dropped, his tone turning dark, accusing. “What of her?”

Ayato met Thoma’s eyes, caught off guard by his housekeeper’s— his friend’s— sudden shift in mood. He placed the ring back, the man behind the stand exhaling with disappointment as Ayato and Thoma moved on.

“I didn’t mean to offend,” Ayato assured his friend, their slow stride now veiled in an uncharacteristic tension. “It’s just… You two seemed close so I wasn’t sure if you…” His sentence trailed off.

“We’re not together, if that’s what you’re implying,” Thoma admitted, clearly dissatisfied with that fact. “But the other day I—” He stopped short as a ball came rolling their way, three little boys skidding to a halt from up the path as they watched their toy tumble towards the strangers. Thoma grabbed it up, gave them a smile, and tossed it back, earning a trio of thank you’s and a fading chorus of shouts and laughter as they went running off again.

Ayato knew Thoma had a habit of being effortlessly kind. It was one of the things that had drawn him to the Mondstadt native, at first weary that his courtesy came with some ulterior motive only to learn that Thoma was just a rare breed within Ayato’s circle of upper class company.

Even for someone who had so much less than the Yashiro Commissioner, the housekeeper always seemed to have more to give than any rich elite Ayato had ever encountered.

“The other day…?” Ayato tried to guide Thoma back on track.

“Oh—” Thoma then seemed to remember, the remainder of the confession seeming to fluster him, even in front of his trusted friend. “Well, I almost kissed her.”

At this, Ayato was able to hide his surprise, though just barely. Because, while the emotion didn’t show on his carefully controlled features, the strain in his voice said otherwise.

“You almost kissed her?”

“Yeah…” Thoma kicked at the dirt, staring at his scuffed up shoes. “But then we were interrupted and… I dunno…” He met Ayato’s eyes then, and if he noticed any jealousy, he didn’t make it known. “I guess I’m just afraid I’ll overstep somehow. Like, what if that’s not what she really wants, y’know?”

Ayato nodded to himself, buying some time to organize his thoughts before strategizing his next move. Because Ayato now found himself caught in the middle of things— pulled back and forth between supporting his friend or selfishly taking what he wanted for himself right from under him.

He knew the power he held, but also knew that exercising that power in this situation meant jeopardizing his carefully established trust with Thoma.

“Have you ever thought to ask her?” Ayato said.

“Ask her what?”

“Well, what she wants, of course,” Ayato clarified. Thoma continued to look confused, oblivious. Ayato sighed, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “If you know what she wants, then that would help you understand the right thing to do, would it not?”

Now it was Thoma’s turn to nod to himself, rolling that idea over in his head. “I guess you’re right…” he muttered. “Though, I suppose the timing wasn’t really right anyway.” Thoma chuckled a bit, saying, “I doubt she’d want to remember her first kiss with someone while she was in the middle of crying.”

Ayato’s eyes widened. “Crying?” His concern was unmasked. “Why was she crying?”

Thoma recounted what he knew of that particular situation, how the head housemaid had had it out for you that day and the stress of the approaching event was wearing you down. To this, Ayato immediately decided to give you the next two days off, let you decompress a little.

“It’s not like one maid missing will really hinder things…” Ayato shrugged, then looking to Thoma for confirmation, asked, “Right?”

Thoma, though knowing how busy the maids had been as of late, couldn’t disagree that some time off would be beneficial to you. “A few days couldn’t hurt. Pretty sure we’ve got most things in order for the meeting at this point anyway…” And, if it came down to it, Thoma would have no problem picking up the slack for you.

Ayato smiled, soft yet guarded, too afraid to let the outside world read his true emotions as easily as you and Thoma so carelessly expressed. “Brilliant,” he concluded, clapping Thoma on the shoulder. “Though, similar to the maids, I, too, am looking forward to the end of all this commotion and anticipation.”

Thoma and Ayato shared a laugh and prepared to double back towards the estate. Ayato could only dodge his responsibilities for so long before one of his advisors noticed, after all. On the way back, however, he couldn’t help but stop at that jewelry stand one more time, the same crystal marrow ring catching his eye. That time, with the shopkeep even more blatantly eager, Ayato bought it, tucking it into his pocket to save until the time was right.

“Who’s that for?” Thoma teasingly asked, always trying to guess what kind of girl the head of the Kamisato clan was currently courting, since Ayato never seemed to give him a straight answer about it.

“I’ve decided to start a new game,” Ayato replied vaguely, though with no absence of that mischievous smirk. “And this…” He held the ring to the sky, ensnaring the brightly glowing sun within the silver loop like he intended to trap it, to claim it for his own. “This is my strategy.”

***

When you’d been informed that you’d been given two days off, your first thought was not, “Oh thank god, a well deserved break”, it was, “Oh, I’m fired alright. This is just an excuse to keep me away while they find a replacement.”

You were restless for most of those forty-eight hours, pacing about, mind spinning and unable to focus or relax or sort anything out like you should’ve been doing, now that you’d been given the opportunity. But Thoma had stopped by your apartment one night, brought you something special for dinner, and as you’d shared the meal together he’d helped ease some of those worries.

“So I talked to Ayato,” Thoma admitted during dessert, “told him what was going on, and everything’s fine. It was his idea to give you time off…” Thoma slid another strawberry mochi— his favorite— onto your plate. “So cheer up!” You’d given a weak smile, a vague attempt at reassuring him, and perhaps possibly yourself as well, that you believed him.

And for a little while, you did.

You believed that everything was fine.

Once you returned to work and got back to your regular schedule you’d almost forgotten about the conflict completely. But all of that changed the very next time you laid eyes on the master of the house, catching a blur of periwinkle and ivory rounding the corner near his own personal quarters.

“Oh— M-Master Kamisato…” you stammered as you gave a rigid bow. “Please excuse the intrusion… I wasn’t aware you’d be at the estate today, I—”

Ayato hummed out a note of gentle amusement. That was all it took to silence you. You straightened your posture and blinked a few times as your vision focused on him, surprised to find him smiling.

“Please, no apologies necessary,” Ayato assured you, already beckoning you towards him with a wave of that elegant, gloved hand before saying, “Do you have a moment? There’s actually something I wanted to show you.”

Stunned and frozen in the conflict of indecision— because what would the other maids say if they found out the Yashiro Commissioner himself was inviting you beyond the doorway of his private rooms? But also, who were you to deny a direct order from the master of the house?— your mouth hung slightly open with the words of polite denial desperate to escape, yet found themselves trapped behind your teeth, some of them getting lodged in your throat.

“It’ll only take a moment,” Ayato then insisted. You chewed the inside of your cheek nervously, though ultimately complied and hurried past him and into the room where he then closed the door behind him.

You felt ridiculous, your hammering heart and nervously fidgeting fingers making you feel like you must’ve looked like a wreck around him, getting all worked up when this was all probably just something to do with tomorrow’s meeting. Just an important, albeit last minute, detail that he’d just grabbed the first staff member passing by to assist him with, right?

But then the night that you’d first run into him flashed through your mind again. You felt the gentle way his fingers had lifted your chin, the ghost of that curious lavender gaze coming back to haunt you. He’d even winked at you, made you feel like maybe he’d meant it as more than a joke when he’d alluded to the fact that if you left your ring lying around again he’d have cause to come see you.

But who am I, a bitter whisper hissed in your mind. Who am I to think for a single second that someone like him would want anything to do with someone like me?

Outside of your cleaning services, that is.

“The other day…” Ayato began, slowly pacing over to the counter of his vanity while you remained standing stiffly not too far from the doorway. “I was walking the halls and came upon something that I believe might belong to you.”

Instinctively, you reached for the finger that you wore your ring on, afraid the little piece of carved Thunder Sakura had slipped from your grasp again. It was secured exactly where it was supposed to be, and you didn’t make a habit of wearing other jewelry, especially while you were working, so you had no idea what it could be that he was alluding to.

Ayato plucked up the shiny Crystal Marrow ring, the rare gem glittering under the light even from across the room, and held it out to you, once again drawing you strategically closer to him. He said, “This wouldn’t happen to be the same ring you lost just recently, would it?”

As you cautiously approached, your gaze shifted from him to the ring that— you both knew— didn’t belong to you.

Ayato was watching you carefully, keeping track of your hands to see if one would try to hide the other, cover up a lie before it left your mouth, but all your hands did was clasp and wring tighter together, your throat bobbing with a particularly hard swallow.

“That’s…” you began, as if unsure. But then you met his eyes again, his gaze as unyielding and unreadable as ever, and you shook your head. “I’m sorry, but that’s not mine.”

“Oh?” Ayato tested, pretending to examine the ring closer before once again extending it towards you. “Are you sure? I thought it looked like the one I recovered down in the maids’ quarters… Perhaps I was wrong.”

Ayato began to turn, feeling somewhat satisfied with himself as you’d nearly passed the test. But then, as you blurted out a startled, “Wait—!” his heart sank a bit, already accepting the fact that you weren’t the kind of girl he’d thought— hoped— you were.

“Yes…?” he hesitantly encouraged.

“I— Uh, well— It’s just…” You were shifting on your feet and fidgeting with the hem of your sleeves now, never able to hold still when you were nervous. Even in a moment of oncoming disappointment, Ayato couldn’t help but find that trait endearing in you. But then you cleared your throat, tried to steady your quivering voice, and suggested, “Perhaps you should keep it in a safe place until someone comes forward. I can ask the other maids if any of them have lost anything recently. I won’t say what, just in case, but if that ring truly does belong to one of us, they’ll have an exact description of it.”

You looked at Ayato differently now, with more urgency, as if returning this unknown person’s lost item was suddenly the most important task you could undertake.

“I mean, whoever it belongs to, surely they must be worried about it. I mean, it does look very expensive, so they’re probably in a panic over losing something so valuable.” You were rambling now, yet another sign of your building anxiety. “Perhaps we should gather all the housestaff right now just to make sure—”

Ayato slowly reached for your hand and you let him take it, though couldn’t contain the little gasp that escaped you upon the surprise contact. Once again you were reminded of how gentle he was, how softly his gloved hand cradled yours, turning your palm upward and placing his closed first in the center, allowing the ring to land in your possession.

“I trust you will return this to the rightful owner then?” he grinned, a faint tint of mischief twinkling in his eye.

He hadn’t originally intended to let you keep it— He’d planned on gifting it to his sister once he’d used it to test you, actually— but in that moment, the eldest Kamisato had experienced a change of heart.

You looked at the ring that sat in your palm, so much prettier than the plain wooden one wrapped around your finger, so much more expensive, and for a moment you wished that it did belong to you. But as you closed your fist around it, dropping it into your apron’s pocket for safekeeping, you simply gave Ayato a firm nod and replied, “I’ll do my best.”

You’d hurried to depart from his chambers then, nearly forgetting to bow and address him formally on your way out, and it was then Ayato’s turn to be stunned.

He thought that you couldn’t do anything to surprise him further.

But he was proven wrong when you returned to him two days later, informing him that you’d inquired with everyone who worked both at the estate and Komore Teahouse and no one had been able to claim it, and placed the ring back into his palm, apologizing that you hadn’t been able to help after all.

***

Several more weeks had passed and you had yet to run into Ayato again. But that was fine with you. After you’d felt like you’d failed him, you were a little embarrassed to meet face to face any time soon. Other than that, however, your spirits had considerably lifted over the last few days.

For the most part, you and Thoma were back to your old selves, the halls filled with your playful banter and harmless teasing. He’d walk you home at the end of the day, sometimes lingering by your front door as if trying to buy himself a little more time with you. Sometimes you’d linger too. And during those small, intimate windows of quiet and staring, he’d look at you the way he had when he’d found you crying in that tiny, cramped little bathroom in the servants’ quarters and, more often than not, you found yourself wishing he’d finish what he’d started. But, night after night, Thoma would bid you farewell and leave you be, waiting until you were safe and sound inside of your little home before venturing back to his own lodgings.

“What…?” you’d finally gained enough courage to ask through a mutter one night when he was gazing at you in that way again.

“Nothing…” Thoma lied, the word barely a breath as the breeze came to whisk it away. “It’s just…”

“Just…?” You repeated, a hopeful lilt of encouragement in your tone.

Thoma couldn’t decide which was harder— to meet your eyes or retreat. On one hand, your stare was a familiar one. One he wished was reserved only for him, similar to the way he saved certain looks only for you. But, adversely, it was because of that familiarity that he found himself so hesitant to move forward.

Because if he misread things, if he messed them up, he’d risk ruining everything with you.

And that was something he wouldn’t be able to bear.

“Thoma…” You called him back to reality, caused him to meet your eyes again, almost with a look of premeditated guilt. “You can tell me…” You spoke quietly. Soothingly. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You thought you saw vulnerability welling behind all that emerald green, but lost a little confidence when something sad and almost regretful rippled within it.

“Thoma…” you began again. “I—”

But before you could speak another word, his hand was cupping your cheek, fingers gently combing themselves into your hair, and his mouth was on yours, his lips sweet with strawberry mochi.

You melted into the gesture, feeling your worries dissolve like sugar cubes dropped into afternoon tea as you parted your lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. You felt yourself heating from the inside out as his tongue mingled with yours, taking his time to learn you in this way, a lazy, honey-drip of arousal slowly working its way through your blood, settling warm and heavy in the pit of your stomach.

And how long had Thoma waited for this? Waited to feel like you were his, as if you hadn’t been from the start? How long had you wanted to be his, even when you’d tried to convince yourself you were nothing special? How could either of you have forgotten that he was the sun and you were his sunflower, opening your vibrant, golden petals for him and only him?

Perhaps because there were storm clouds rolling in to stand between you two.

Though, how could the warmth of the sun be appreciated without the reminder of the rain?

How else would the flowers grow?

***

You hadn’t expected things at work after the night Thoma had kissed you to feel so… awkward.

You’d thought things would be the same as always, only now, you couldn’t shake the inkling of dread that crept over your back like a looming shadow that everyone knew. You hadn’t told anyone, and you assumed Thoma probably hadn’t either, but every time a new set of eyes landed on you, whether in the halls of the Kamisato estate or on the Inazuman streets, you wished you could just disappear for a while, like how a turtle tucks itself back into the safety of its shell at the first signs of danger.

You focused on keeping your head down, trying to work so hard you went home so exhausted at the end of the day you fell right to sleep before your mind was forced to endure the torture of dwelling on all this new anxiety that had stirred up within you. A few times, when Thoma passed by when you were in the middle of mopping or sweeping or dusting, he’d divert his prior path and migrate towards you, seeing the look of growing weariness etched into each feature and line of your face and ask a quiet and concerned, “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine…” you’d lie with a forced half smile, unable to meet his gaze as you said, “Just tired, is all,” before making up some excuse about how you were needed in another wing of the house and were running late. As you hurried off, not looking back before rounding the corner like Thoma was so used to, he’d find himself standing in place, staring down the vacant hall while the ghost of your image growing smaller in his vision haunted his mind.

Eventually snapping out of it, he, too, returned to work. Though, similar to you, Thoma couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different. Something was wrong. And no matter how long he dwelled on it, the fault came up as his every time.

Because maybe you’d changed your mind after the night you two had first kissed.

Maybe he’d overstepped.

Maybe you’d decided you didn’t want him anymore.

Though, as far as you were concerned, the issue didn’t lie with Thoma, himself.

The issue was how much you couldn’t stop thinking about him, how you kept replaying that moment over and over in your mind, trying to recapture the feeling it had given you, how safe you’d felt, how relieved.

Now, unfortunately, all you could feel was anxious.

Because what if Thoma changed his mind about you?

What if he’d been let down?

What if he didn’t want you anymore?

If only you could gather up enough courage to talk to him about it, see where he was at. Then maybe both your minds could be put at ease.

But there was something else that was bothering you too. Something swimming just below the surface that you could just barely make out the shape of yet were still unsure of just what kind of creature the swirling silhouette belonged to…

Though, from time to time, flashes of a certain Kamisato would race through your brain— the way his touch had cradled your chin, how your little hand had been swallowed up in his gentle grasp, the way he’d gazed at you so tenderly that, for a second, you’d been able to convince yourself he actually cared for you.

It was all too confusing to sort through at the moment, but it seemed the more distance you tried to put between yourself and your troubles, the further they dug their claws in, latching onto every emotion and thought you felt or had and flooding them with images of crimson and gold, periwinkle and ivory, until all the colors mixed into an indistinguishable grey.

When you ran into Thoma again at the end of the day, you were turning down his offer to walk home together before he could even get the question out. And the way his voice— always so gentle and bright, shining even through the cracks in his disappointment— trembled a little with a nervous laugh at the end when he assured you it was ok, wishing you a good night before parting ways…

That was what finally sent you over the edge.

That was what broke the dam that had kept everything at bay inside of you.

Because here you were, sabotaging yourself just as you’d feared.

Feeling the rushing waters welling behind your eyes, you forewent your usual path towards home and instead found your feet carrying you closer to the gardens of the estate.

At least there, you thought, you’d be able to let your heart break in private.

***

You’d barely made it to the secluded little nook in the gardens before breaking down, tears sparkling in your eyes and spilling down your cheeks in shimmering pairs as you cupped your hand over your mouth, hoping to muffle as much of the hiccuping sobs that were slipping through your fingers as you could.

If someone found you here like this it wouldn’t be the end of the world— you were at least allowed in the gardens, after all— but you knew how fast word spread between the maids and the last thing you needed right now was more gossip and another target on your back.

So, crouched and curled in on yourself, you wept as silently as you could, your heart feeling like it was being torn in two all while your worries continued piling higher and higher by the moment that you knew all it would take to send them all toppling down would be only the slightest nudge.

That nudge, as it turned out, came to you in the form of ivory and periwinkle, the low, soothing tone of Ayato’s voice asking from right above you, “What ever seems to be the matter?” in a way that sounded both startled and genuinely concerned.

His sudden appearance made you jolt, rocking back off your heels and hitting the ground with a graceless thud before scrambling up to your feet and frantically wiping your reddened, glassy eyes with the edge of your sleeves, sputtering out a string of frazzled nonsense that was meant to be an apology.

But Ayato stopped you before you made an even bigger fool of yourself, one hand slightly raised as if hesitantly reaching out to an injured animal, unsure whether it would accept the aid or bare its teeth in a defensive snarl. “Please, don’t be upset,” he attempted to comfort you, shuffling half a step closer. “Whatever’s happened, I’m sure it can be resolved…” You finally gained enough courage to look up at him, seeing how he stood only a few feet away, arms open as if beckoning you to him now.

When your stares met, Ayato gave a soft smile and said, “It’s alright… Now, won’t you tell me what’s gotten you so upset?”

Much to Ayato’s dismay, this kindness only caused you to cry harder, a new round of tears bursting forth as you nearly fell to your knees, body shivering with your sorrows as all the emotions flooding you froze over into a bitter ice, trapping you beneath the surface and drowning you from the inside out.

You weren’t sure how long Ayato had his hands on your shoulders, bent slightly as if to better see eye to eye with you, and was cooing out words of comfort before it registered to you that he was really there, was actually touching you, brushing stray strands of disheveled hair from your face and using his thumb, now tugged free from its glove, to gently wipe away your tears.

How many others had felt the direct touch of his skin on theirs, you then wondered, staring up at him, reverent, entranced. How many people has he even dared to touch? For someone who seemed like a god among men in many strangers’ eyes, it was almost terrifying to be this close to him. To have him be this close to you.

As your head cleared a little, your bleary vision returning to you with the sharpness of Ayato’s regal colors, you thought you heard him saying in a quiet, serene whisper, “There, it’s alright… It’s all going to be alright… I’m here…” a few times over until he thought you’d calmed down.

And then there was a long moment where the two of you were just gazing into each other’s eyes, faces mere inches apart, that caring smile still spread across his lips while you gaped at him like someone who’d thought they’d just seen a spirit drift across their path, curious and petrified and a little bit in awe all at once.

He began to lightly cup your jaw in his grasp again, humming out a quiet, lovely little note when he thought perhaps he was getting through to you, but, without meaning to, you flinched away from him, nearly stumbling back among the pebbled walkway but catching yourself at the last second, and watched as his smile dropped to a regretful frown, his hand still reaching out to you as if begging you to stay, imploring you to return to him so he could give you the comfort you so desperately needed right now.

Your senses returned to you and you flushed with sharp, prickling shame. “I— I’m so sorry…” you sniffled, trying to swallow down the lump that had formed in your throat, tongue feeling heavy and lethargic in your mouth as thick saliva garbled your words. Clearing your throat and trying to adjust your rumpled uniform, you averted your eyes from him and began to speak more formally, saying, “I’m so sorry you caught me like this, Master Kamisato, I was just—”

“Please…” Ayato cut in, so much power contained in a single word, though the request was spoken softly. The gentleness of it forced your eyes to flick back to meet his, your next breath catching in your throat. Because he wasn’t just seeing you, wasn’t just catching a glimpse from the corner of his eye as you passed along in the halls of the manor, busy with work.

Ayato was really looking at you, as if trying to search the very depths of your soul. Like he was trying to figure out every little detail that had occurred in your life thus far that had turned you into the person who stood before him right at that very moment.

And you knew, in that moment, you weren’t just another maid to him, another girl in the same uniform who wasn’t meant to be seen or heard.

You were you.

Just you.

And Ayato looked like he liked you.

He looked like he liked you a lot.

“There’s no need for formalities…” he went on, cautiously closing the gap between you two and gauging your reaction on whether it was ok to proceed. When you didn’t move, didn’t make an attempt to get away or even avert your eyes that time, he allowed himself to come as close as he had before, close enough to reach out and touch you.

That time, it was your hand he reached for— the one that wore that precious Thunder Sakura ring— and he turned it over in his grasp so your palm was face up to him. You watched, body so still you would’ve believed even your heart had stopped beating, as Ayato traced the lines etched into your palm, his lilac eyes entranced by how small your hand was in his, how precious you were, how soft your skin was despite all the work you did all day long, lingering on a few callouses that came and went depending on if the manor had any big events to host in the near future or not.

“Master Kami—” you began, but stopped yourself, swallowing down the remainder of his title and trading it for the name he preferred from you right now, “Ayato…” His view snapped back to yours, pausing where the pad of his bare finger was tracing your love line. “If we’re going to do this, don’t you think it should be somewhere a little more…” You looked around you, the space wide open for any prying eyes to spy on you, only vaguely shrouded by the various flowers and trees and hedges that crept around the garden’s edges.

But then his smile returned, allowing you to take your hand back as he said, that hint of mischief prevalent in his hushed voice, “Of course. And I know the perfect place…” He began to slowly stroll away, as if expecting you to follow him. He glanced over his shoulder after a few smooth strides. “This time of day, we should have Komore Teahouse all to ourselves.”

***

Ayato had been right, the teahouse was completely empty, all save for Taroumaru, but it wasn’t like he was going to go around spreading rumors about who he saw walk in with whom. Besides, it wasn’t any random strangers you’d been afraid of encountering there while in the company of the Yashiro Commissioner.

It had been Thoma, obviously.

But, lucky for you, after everything that had just happened, you knew he’d headed straight home, no more chores or duties to attend to that day.

What would he think if he walked in and saw that you’d ditched him to spend time with his boss though?

You prayed he actually had gone home and didn’t make any last minute stops along the way just to ensure that all his work for the day really was complete…

“So…” Ayato prompted as he took a leisurely sip of his tea, the scents of honey and bergamot wafting pleasantly through the air on the tendrils of steam that curled from both your porcelain cups. “What’s been troubling you? I certainly hope the head housemaid wasn’t the cause of all those tears…” It seemed like perhaps he was joking, though he also knew just as well as you did that there was more truth to that suspicion than you wanted to admit.

Awkwardly sipping your tea, comforted by the warmth against your palms at the very least, you gave a crooked, nervous grin and shyly replied, “It’s… complicated.”

Ayato wore a more grave expression now, setting his cup down on its saucer with a quiet clink. “So she is bothering you?” he deduced, as if ready to get up and go fire her on the spot. “I shall have a word with her. There’s no reason for her to—”

“No, no, that’s not it…” you brushed off Ayato’s severity with a wave of your hand and an only slightly less crooked smile. “It’s just…” you sighed, defeated, hanging your head a little as the words you knew you were about to say weighed heavy in your brain. “It’s…” You felt your leg resisting the urge to restlessly bounce and fidget from where it was folded underneath you.

You had the words in the right order, but did you have enough courage to say them out loud?

Ayato leaned in a little closer, encouraging you to speak freely, already invested in whatever it was you were about to say.

But why should he be? He was your boss, and you two had barely spoken, barely even seen each other face to face much before now anyway. Would it be out of line to tell him what was really bothering you, even if he really wanted to know? Would it be a betrayal to Thoma, who was also Ayato’s friend?

So many questions began to trickle into your thoughts and soon you found yourself once again on the verge of tears, overwhelmed.

You hid your face in your hands, just feeling like an idiot now, so embarrassed you thought you might curl up and die from it, but then Ayato was scooching around to your side of the table, your name leaving his lips with distress as he placed an arm around your shoulders, helping pull you close to him as you instinctively leaned against his chest, shamelessly seeking out any comfort he’d give you now.

“It’s just all so messed up…” you sobbed, voice cracking with frustration and fear. “I’m so messed up. I just— I just don’t know what to do or how to feel or think anymore, I—”

As you cried into the expensive, silky fabrics of his custom-tailored clothes, face buried into his shoulder, Ayato kept rubbing a hand up and down your back, unsure of what to say anymore but still hoping his touch could bring you some relief.

It was how he used to comfort his sister when she was small, back during the times she remembered they didn’t have parents anymore and all she could do was cry. She was the only person Ayato had ever really had a chance to comfort, the only person who was allowed to show such open, vulnerable emotion in his presence. Ayato used to weep for his parents too, though, when it came to his own sadness, he’d chosen to bear that weight alone, only safe in the silence of the night, buried beneath the layers of his bed that often felt so big and lonely he could’ve drowned in it.

“I think I love him…” You finally were able to admit, tearing Ayato from his tapestry of childhood trauma. “I think I have for a while but I never thought he’d feel the same and I— He— I just don’t know what to do because what if I ruin everything? What if I already have? I don’t want to lose him but I don’t know how to be with him either and I’m just afraid that either way I’ll end up making the wrong choice and—”

You hadn’t said his name once, yet Ayato knew exactly who you were talking about. He knew that Thoma felt the same way you did in so many ways that perhaps if you two just were as honest with each other as you were being now with him all your troubles could be resolved.

Yet, all the while, as he comforted you through your crying and confessions, Ayato’s heart was breaking. Because he could tell just how much you cared for Thoma, same as he’d been able to learn just how much Thoma cherished you.

And how could Ayato— Kamisato or not— ever hope to compete when the two of you were already so symbiotic?

Maybe because, as much as the sunflower needed the sun to warm its golden petals, it also needed a little rain here and there so it could grow, thick stalk reaching closer towards the sky once the clouds receded.

Hope is a dangerous thing, Ayato heard a voice in the back of his head warn as he tended to the garden of your suffering, willing to stay beside you and keep you in his arms for as long as you needed even if this would be the one and only time he’d get to hold you like this. Act careless and you’ll find yourself caught out in a storm you can’t weather.

You both had sustained enough worries and woefulness for one day, so Ayato did one of the things he’d learned to do best. He put on a mask to hide his true emotions— this one crafted of comfort and kindness to shield his heartache— and gave you a light shake, pulling you back to your senses and causing you to meet his eyes again.

With a smile that was only a little bit sad, Ayato said, “You know, whenever I’m in need of a pick me up, I always find myself wandering back to my favorite bubble tea spot…” He studied your features, hoping his invitation to help cheer you up wouldn’t be denied. “It’ll be my treat, of course.”

And, thank the Archons, that actually got a smile on your face, even if it was just a small, slightly shy one.

“Well, alright…” you replied, some of the playfulness you usually reserved only for Thoma sneaking into your next words, “but only if you’re paying.”

It would only be after he walked you home and you found yourself alone again that you’d realize just how deep in trouble you really were.

***

Several more weeks had passed and you and Ayato had continued with your secret meetings. He’d bring bubble teas to Komore Teahouse after hours at the end of the week when you got out of work, and you’d make up some excuse to Thoma as to why you couldn’t walk home together that day.

And you felt bad about it every time you did it, but you also felt like things between you and him had smoothed over in the days following your breakdown, so you didn’t want to risk sabotaging it now.

Though, that still didn’t change the fact that you were lying, and to someone who you most certainly did love, at that.

But it’s not like things between you and Ayato had gone beyond two friends getting to know each other better over boba, right? Even if your heart did flutter a little whenever you saw him and whenever your hands accidentally brushed you felt your stomach do a tiny somersault…

“We should really invite Thoma sometime,” you eventually proposed, when things between you and Ayato seemed right on the verge of crossing over into something a little more than just friends. “I know he likes bubble tea too, what with his sweet tooth and all.” You’d giggled out a melody of lilting, joyfully innocent notes, and Ayato felt his heart leap into his throat, though not for a good reason.

“Yes, perhaps we should…” he responded, careful to upkeep the light tone you two had grown accustomed to using around one another, though his voice still came out a little strained.

Because Ayato didn’t want to share you. Despite the fact that he already was— that you’d been Thoma’s first, after all— the selfishness of someone who was used to always getting what they wanted filled Ayato to the brim, a single, venomous drop of ink turning the crystal clear waters of his heart a deep, dark obsidian.

But maybe his entire problem could be solved if only he could learn to share. It wouldn’t be easy, that was for sure, and the entire prospect could go up in flames the moment he so much as hinted as much to Thoma, but he had to try.

Because if he didn’t, then he might lose you altogether and regret it for the rest of his life.

***

In all the time Ayato had known Thoma, he’d never seen his friend wear such an expression as he did now. He’d gone through a complex range of emotions in just a few seconds, first shock, then anger, then betrayal, then sadness as he’d listened to Ayato confess how he felt about you.

The two had been talking casually, as they normally did, when something had brought up your name and then, before Ayato could stop himself or let his better judgment kick in, he was telling Thoma everything. Even he couldn’t believe he was doing it, each word that left his mouth seeming to bury him deeper, digging out a well to drown his trusted relationship with Thoma in until it was dead in the water.

But then, as Ayato turned more apologetic, admitting that he was only telling Thoma this because of how much he cared for him, how he felt like keeping the secret in the first place was a betrayal in and of itself, the housekeeper seemed to soften a little, become more sympathetic to Ayato’s plight once he remembered that he’d been in the same exact spot as him once before.

“She was yours first…” Ayato acknowledged with a despondent sigh, the sun sinking behind the two of them as they sat on a ledge, half finished boba staining the stones with a dark ring of condensation. “So I don’t intend to get in the way of that. And if you wish for me never to see or speak to her again as I’ve been doing, just say the word and it will be so.”

The way Ayato looked at Thoma then was so pained that it nearly made Thoma flinch. Ayato’s lilac eyes were begging Thoma not to make it so, yet Thoma knew at the same time that the head of the Kamisato clan would honor his promise either way.

“But, Thoma, please…” Ayato continued, his voice now devoid of all its usual regality, more low and trembling than Thoma had ever heard it, had ever thought possible for someone of Ayato’s confidence. “If I can no longer see her, then I need you to promise— to swear that you’ll always be there for her no matter what.”

And then, just as quickly as it had disappeared, the eldest Kamisato’s poise and prestige was back, his posture straightening and his features setting into something more stoic, though it was all just a way for Ayato to cover up how terrified he truly was and regain some semblance of control.

For a while, Thoma didn’t speak. He just sat there, searching Ayato’s expression with those honest emeralds until he’d seemed to have found what he was looking for.

“Ayato…” Thoma began, a hard expression still present on his face. But as he reached over to place a hand comfortingly on his friend’s shoulder, Ayato found he truly had no idea what to expect next. “Listen to me. You and I are going to have a talk, and once that talk is over, if we’re both on the same page, we’ll go and have the same talk with her…”

The more Thoma explained his proposal, the more Ayato felt the aching tightness of anticipated loss in his chest loosen. The idea was certainly unconventional, especially for someone of Ayato’s standing, but, if you were on board, it might be the only way all three of you could end up happy in the end.

So, the two of them made their pact, preparing to approach you together and see if perhaps you’d grant them both the privilege of sharing you, willing to give their precious little sunflower all the warmth and rain she needed to thrive.

***

The proposition of the conversation initially came to you as a shock. The mere idea that both Thoma and Ayato needed to have a serious discussion with you equating to only one thing in your mind— that, despite how much they’d tried to assure you that worse wouldn’t come to worst, you were about to lose your job.

But when that hadn’t turned out to be the case, your dread was quickly drowned out by confusion. Because, if you weren’t in some kind of trouble, then what could possibly be so pressing? Surely not a promotion, you knew you hadn’t done anything significant enough to deserve that. Though, the more you thought about it, the fact that you’d grown so close to your boss recently might say otherwise.

Once they’d said their piece, both of them were patient with you while you sat before them, stunned and, quite frankly, a little embarrassed. You’d never given such a scenario a thought, let alone between your best friend and your boss, but here you were, the two of them staring at you with equal amounts of apology and longing and hope that it all felt like some kind of surreal dream.

You couldn’t help but raise concerns about what your fellow co-workers would think, not to mention with someone of Ayato’s pedigree engaging in such unconventional relations, but they both assured you that the secret would remain safe between the three of you until you worked out a way to make things more public, however long that took.

For you and Thoma, it would be a lot easier, so long as your mutual behavior at work didn’t change too drastically. For Ayato, however, he’d be lying if he said the fact he wouldn’t be able to spend as much time around you out in the open didn’t bother him a bit.

Because Ayato’s heart was like an ice cube not quite frozen, just the tiniest crack causing all of the water within to spill out, hence why he tried so hard to keep it away from the open flame you and Thoma had seemed to carry between your own ribs for so long.

He wouldn’t exactly call it jealousy, per se, but more so on the spectrum of grief, feeling like there would always be a constant reminder of the divide between your two worlds, that you and Thoma were the original matching set and he was just a spare.

And there was something about hearing those words come from Ayato’s own mouth that had broken something inside of you, awoke something inside of you too, and before Ayato had time to process or realize what he’d even just admitted, both you and Thoma were wrapping your arms around him, the three of you holding each other close and fitting together like missing puzzle pieces that had just been reunited.

And you were happy. You were so, so happy. Because, for once, you truly believed everything would work out the way it was meant to be. And soon, you’d be opening your vibrant, golden petals towards the prismic arc of a rainbow.

***

You’d gotten the day off from work. It was a rare occurrence, but one you appreciated all the more for it. Thoma had also been granted a much needed break. He showed up outside your quaint little home at sunset, the two of you walking hand in hand, fingers interlocked and arms lightly swinging between you, as he led you through Inazuma’s lantern lit evening streets and all the way to Ayato’s master bedroom at the Kamisato estate.

It seemed all of the Kamisato Clan’s help had been given a vacation, as neither you nor Thoma saw, heard, or even sensed another living soul within the mansion for possibly the first and only time you could remember. Day or night, the place was usually full of housestaff, always finding more work to be done. But now the house was dark. Quiet. But not eerie. You knew this place well, after all. You had nothing to fear.

“This way we won’t have to worry about anyone overhearing us,” Ayato had explained after letting you and Thoma into his private chambers, still keeping his voice low out of habit for there usually being curious ears eager to listen in. “Plus, by giving everyone the day off, it won’t put any suspicions on either of you if someone noticed you weren’t around.” Ayato gave you a small smile and a reassuring nod as he said this, also adding on that even his sister was away tonight, apparently addressing some business on her brother’s behalf.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Ayato cooed, tenderly cupping your face in his palm and smoothing his thumb along your cheek as he did so, his eyes sparkling with adoration instead of mischief for once. “I’ve taken care of everything.”

But for all the reassurance the eldest Kamisato was trying to give you, you still couldn’t help but feel nervous. You’d never done this with two instead of one, and even then, it had been a while since you’d done this at all.

Thoma hadn’t let go of your hand the entire time, tying himself to you, keeping you tethered to his warmth, and as Ayato took your other hand and the two of them led you towards the plush, king-sized bed, you felt your heart unfurling its wings and fluttering up into your throat.

“Thoma…” Ayato muttered to the blonde beside him, placing an ungloved hand upon his shoulder. “Why don’t you help her feel a little more comfortable while I work on undressing us?”

“Us?” Thoma couldn’t hide his sheer surprise, blushing beet red at the implication. Because, for as much as they’d discussed this new dynamic in relativity to you, one thing Thoma apparently hadn’t taken into account was the part he’d play in this triangle when it came to him and Ayato.

Us…

The more he let that idea sink in, the quicker he was to remember that that’s what the three of you were now. A collective us. And if Thoma and Ayato were to share you, to take care of and satisfy you, then there was absolutely no reason why they couldn’t do that for each other as well.

Thoma gulped down his trepidation, swept his gaze back towards you, and, as Ayato began to shed his own pristine clothing not too far behind him, Thoma knelt before you, taking your hands in his, and offered to answer any questions you might have, any concerns. He was pretty new at this too, but he could try, at least. So long as you felt comfortable and safe, that’s all that really mattered to him.

You and Thoma talked quietly, Ayato’s body half bare as he began his work on freeing Thoma of his clothes. It was strange to see the master of the house attending to someone of his staff in such a way, but nice nonetheless. It proved that here, behind the closed doors of this bedroom at the very least, the three of you were equals, no titles or bloodlines to separate you.

“Just know that we’re gonna take good care of you, ok?” Thoma promised, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead after shrugging free from the undermost layer of his shirt, Ayato tossing the thin black fabric over the back of a chair where his own clothes were draped. “You’re in good hands.”

Your eyes fell upon the two of them, feeling yourself blush at the sight of their bare chests, the way they were both toned with muscle, just in different ways. The two of them truly were like night and day, but, lucky for you, you didn’t have to choose between sun and moon in the instance of an eclipse.

Ayato had the build of someone who trained and sparred regularly. He was slightly taller than Thoma, his shoulders a little broader and speckled with a sparse constellation of beauty marks and moles. Your line of sight traveled further down his torso, tracing the chiseled definition of his abs with your eyes, swallowing hard when your view reached the waistband of his trousers, the way his pale skin stretched thin and taut over sharp hip bones. Ayato looked like he could’ve been carved from marble, the sculptor’s greatest creation, but this didn’t make the man beside him any less alluring to you.

Thoma was more lithe and lean, his skin a little tanner from too many afternoons spent out tending to the gardens in the hot summer sun. His arms were covered with a fine dusting of fair, blonde hairs, a chaotic speckling of light freckles beneath. The same wisps of spun gold snuck out from his waistband and up towards his navel in the thin line of a happy trail. Thoma’s posture was, surprisingly, slightly more relaxed than Ayato’s. He merely appeared as if he were patiently waiting, one of his thick-fingered, calloused hands absentmindedly fidgeting with a loose thread fraying off the article of clothing he was left wearing. He gave you a reassuring smile, his entire body seeming to sigh with adoration as his stance became even more relaxed.

Ayato’s gaze shifted back and forth between you and Thoma, as if trying to gauge whether he should take the lead or not. In hindsight, you’d been a little surprised that he hadn’t taken initiative right from the start. But perhaps that was just another unseen side to him you’d get the chance to explore more in the future.

Even Ayato was learning that those who appeared the most charming and confident could find themselves uncertain sometimes.

Ayato then came to sit on the edge of the bed next to you, resting one of his big, gentle hands on your lower back, gazing into your eyes like he was entranced, only removing his stare long enough to flick his eyes towards Thoma again, silently motioning for him to join you both on the bed.

That’s when one hand became two, two hands becoming three as Thoma began to help you out of your own clothes. Three becoming four as Ayato massaged the knots of tension from your shoulders and neck, taking special care of your wrists and hands as he knew how much they craved some care.

It was a reminder for him to not work you so hard— not that your position in the hierarchy of housemaids had been up to him, that assignment had been up to the head housemaid— and to make sure you were given the rest and relaxation you so well deserved when things started to get too busy or stressful. At least Ayato knew Thoma would always be there to support you during the hours he could not, but with that in mind, he was starting to realize perhaps he shouldn’t work Thoma so hard either.

“Go on, Thoma…” Ayato encouraged, applying light pressure to Thoma’s back, urging him closer to you. “It’s only fair…” He leaned in closer to Thoma’s ear, brushing the shell of it with his lips teasingly as he whispered, “She was yours first.”

Again, the heat rose in Thoma’s cheeks like a fire burning to life in its hearth, hoping to still his shaking hands before they found you, reminding himself how long he’d dreamt of this, how long he’d wished for it and willed it into existence. And then he was kissing you, his tongue teasing at the seam of your lips until they parted for him, warm and wanting.

Ayato pulled you back into his lap in the few moments it took for you and Thoma to catch a breath, helping you settle your back against his chest, skin to skin, and letting you lean on him as Thoma moved closer, until his and Ayato’s legs were practically intertwined, and kissed you again, deeper that time, longer, slower, taking his time to explore every inch of your sweet mouth. When he’d discovered all he could there, drinking in every little whine or moan you made, he moved onto your neck, your head resting in the crook of Ayato’s shoulder as Thoma sucked dark bruises into the sensitive flesh of your throat.

Ayato could feel you trembling, already sensing the electric buzz of overstimulation humming through every nerve and vein inside of you as two sets of hands— one calloused and slightly smaller than the other, the second large and slender, soft and deft— began to knead at different parts of your body, never seeming able to hold enough in just their palms.

Ayato massaged gentle circles onto your hips and thighs while Thoma cupped your breasts, lightly pinching one nipple until it elicited a reaction from you, causing you to arch your back a little more and a soft, broken mewl of a cry to escape from your lips, chasing after his touch as your breathing picked up speed, chest rising and falling a little more rapidly than before.

His kisses then ventured lower until his mouth latched onto one of your sensitive, perked little buds, a moan of his own eliciting from the back of his throat as he felt his own arousal swell and his eyes fluttered closed. Your stomach was beginning to flinch, steadily growing painful as it writhed in its desire, but Thoma didn’t stop until he’d given both sides the same thorough treatment. At one point, Ayato had a hand resting on the back of the blonde’s neck, urging him to keep going with you, even if it was with a slight selfish want to watch the two of you like this a little longer, so vulnerable and pleasured.

“Are you ok like this?” Thoma eventually asked before continuing, patient with you as you took a moment to catch your breath and answer. You gave a weak nod, reaching out for him, cradling his cheek in your palm, watching as his emerald eyes— completely enamored— gazed upon you like you were a diamond among stones, so bright and dazzling it could be blinding at times. 

Perhaps he also knew what it was like to be a flower some days, soaking up any light and warmth you’d been willing to give him.

But that’s when the clouds rolled in, a drizzle of rain misting the gardens as Ayato locked eyes with Thoma and gave a gentle, encouraging nod. “It’s ok,” you heard Thoma mutter, shifting his position to lower himself between your legs, which Ayato had hooked over his own, beginning to bear you to Thoma. His touch was tender as it glided across the soft skin of your thighs, gently coaxing them further apart until you were on full display for him, beautiful and glistening. Ayato helped, of course, spreading you further apart when you shyly tried to close your legs again, you turning your head to the side and trying to bury your face in Ayato’s shoulder as a new wave of embarrassment and vulnerability flooded you, one of your hands keeping firmly intertwined in the long strands of sky that cascaded down his neck as if that could anchor you to him.

“I’ve got you…” Thoma said, flicking his gaze back to Ayato for just a moment before locking in on you. “We’ve both got you.”

The first kiss to your fluttering pussy sent a shockwave of chills racing up your spine, blood turning hot and electric as little sparks of pleasure ignited through the very marrow of your bones. You couldn’t help but emit another one of those delicate little whines, the sound of it causing both Ayato and Thoma to grow harder, the press of your back against Ayato’s chest causing your skin’s temperature to increase a few degrees with both of your combined body heat. 

When Thoma started teasing you with his tongue, you almost thought it would be too much, that surely there was no way you’d last long enough to take them both, that you’d go blind with the euphoria. He started out slow, savoring the taste of you, experimenting with different pressures and patterns to find what made you pulse and quiver most, dipping his slick muscle into your fluttering little hole a few times for good measure, his moans vibrating against your cunt whenever he felt your body try and suck him in deeper, your silky walls desperate to be filled with something more.

“Thoma—” you gasped, his name choked out by a broken whisper at the end, both your hands reaching back to grip Ayato’s biceps now, little nails biting shallow crescents into his skin and clinging onto him like he was the only thing currently tethering you to earth. “It’s—” But as he placed a languid, open mouthed kiss to your sensitive clit, another broken cry killed what had remained of your sentence.

“I’ve got you,” you kept hearing Ayato coo, though it sounded distant, muffled and far off and nothing like he was sitting just behind you. “That’s it… I’ve got you… Such a good girl…”

Unrelenting, Thoma continued his assault on your pussy, his face painted in your glistening arousal, the obscenely wet sounds of his mouth and tongue working you up to your first orgasm of the night filling the room and making you dizzy with both lust and embarrassment. But right before you could become too self conscious, he’d send another wave of mind numbing warmth rolling through your core, traveling through your body all the way up to pump more pleasure into your hazy brain.

You swore you couldn’t take much more, at one point were practically begging— though for it to stop or keep going, you didn’t know— but what finally nudged you over that sharp, steep edge was when Ayato reached around with one hand and took one of your nipples between his deft fingers and gave a gentle, teasing squeeze, as if just out of curiosity to discover what they’d feel like, how soft they would be.

The head of the Kamisato clan let out a pleased hum when your back arched against him and you let out another one of those adorable little cries, carefully twisting the sensitive bud of your breast in a way that was now entirely intentional. Pressing his lips right against your ear he whispered, low and sultry, “Oh? Our pretty girl likes that, doesn’t she?” One more ministration and you were coming undone, losing all control of your body, legs spasming and spine arching with a jolt as your mouth hung open in a silent scream, eyes rolling back as the feeling coursed through you like a thick, heady drug.

Thoma came away from you with his mouth and chin shining in the dim light, watching your expression melt from tense to tranquil over the passing seconds, captivated, still partially unable to believe this was actually happening and not some kind of extremely vivid and bewitching dream. For a moment, he almost forgot how painfully hard he’d become, a reminding pulse of his own desire making him wince, pulling him back to the matter at hand.

Ayato cast him a half-lidded glance, periwinkle gaze shimmering with mirth and mischief as he continued to gently brush the pads of his fingers against your peaked nipples, keeping you on the cusp of the high while you slowly came down.

It was almost like Thoma was asking for permission from Ayato, as if they hadn’t agreed on all of this beforehand already.

“Go on…” Ayato granted, voice quiet and careful, as if speaking in the same room as someone who’d just drifted off to sleep. “It’s ok, Thoma. She’s ok…”

You were more than ok. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so good, so light, as if you could float outside of your own body and end up on an entirely different plane altogether. When was the last time you’d felt this relaxed? Had you ever? But still you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. You could barely even move. All you seemed to be able to do was listen to the rhythm of your own breathing, the steady rise and fall of your chest lulling you until you sensed the shadows behind your closed eyelids shifting, Thoma slowly climbing atop you.

Ayato helped shift you, carefully lowering you further back until you were laying flat on your back. You looked from Thoma to Ayato, seeking the answer to a question you didn’t even know to ask, but they seemed to read your facial expression then, quick to rush in and give reassurances.

“It’s alright…” Ayato sighed, taking your hands in his and pressing them lightly into the mattress on either side of your head, just holding them, gently stroking his thumb across the thin, delicate skin of your wrists.

“I’ll go slow,” Thoma said, pulling your attention back to him, his slender silhouette engulfing you from above. “I promise…” He kissed the tip of your nose. Ayato felt you tense slightly as your grip around his hands flexed. Thoma pressed a kiss to your jaw, down your neck, your collar bone, shoulder, chest, retracing the path his lips had traveled previously as if he’d already memorized it. His voice was resolute, reverent, all the while laced through with that edge of care and concern as he said, “I’m gonna take really good care of you.”

You believed him even without him saying it. You’d never had a reason to doubt that. Not with him. And even when a small pang of apprehensive fear flared inside you as he freed his aching cock and pressed it against your dripping cunt, you still trusted him. 

“You need to prep her, Thoma,” Ayato suddenly reminded him, watching the blonde with something hungry and almost vulture-like, patiently awaiting his turn as he held back his envy. Envy that Thoma would get to have you first, even though that was only fair. Ayato didn’t resent him for it, but still, he couldn’t help the small part of him that wished otherwise. “Here, let me…”

Thoma let out a choked whimper, so close to getting to feel you in full he almost couldn’t take it. And as tempted as he was to ignore Ayato’s request and give into his own selfishness, he obliged. When Ayato appeared before you next to Thoma, your hands had nothing left to grip but the sheets. Thoma was flustered and eager. Ayato appeared calm and serene as ever, though that mask would soon chip away.

You felt one long finger glide through the petals of your dewy folds before slowly sinking into your hole, then two, a sensation a little foreign but not entirely uncomfortable as Ayato began to pump them in and out, occasionally scissoring them inside of you only to feel you try and suck him in deeper, your eager cunt clutching his digits with a vengeance.

That was when Ayato’s careful mask of control cracked to reveal something more akin to unbridled desire beneath.

“That’s a good girl…” Ayato sighed as your body stirred back to life, lazily writhing atop the tousled sheets as you felt that familiar pressure begin to build again. “Now you’ll be ready to take Thoma so well…”

It wasn’t long before Thoma was leaning over you again, his and Ayato’s murmured exchange of words lost to you amidst the lustful haze. Though, you did hear him when he spoke directly to you, his voice breathy and sweet, “Gonna make you feel so good, baby… Promise…” right before you felt the blushing tip of him catch on your sensitive little hole.

You let out a hiss as the first inch nestled itself into your tight, wet warmth, the sting of the stretch not entirely unpleasant, but definitely enough to jolt some of your senses back to reality. You heard Thoma’s breath catch, a strained gasp stuck halfway up his throat as he slid in a little further, all the while Ayato stood behind him and pressed languid kisses to Thoma’s neck and shoulder, running his fingertips over the toned expanse of the blonde’s torso.

Once Thoma was all the way inside you, you wincing as he brushed against your cervix, you both took a moment to catch your breath. Then, Thoma began to move.

Every roll of his hips seemed to hit you just right, sparks of pleasure shooting up that taut string stretching up through your core and a delicate moan leaving your lips as he began to pick up speed. Thoma was biting his lip, trying to keep his gaze on you but having to squeeze his eyes shut sometimes when your cunt gripped his length like a vice. He couldn’t help but let out his own melodic moans, the sounds he made almost as beautiful as yours.

Ayato had taken to sitting back and watching you both, enjoying the music you made together, his cock already painfully hard as he began to palm himself, the silk pillows cradled around him shifting out of place as he threw his head back and tried to hold out.

You both looked so gorgeous on display like that. Vulnerable and euphoric. Raw.

Ayato couldn’t wait to see what view you’d provide when he was the one looking down on you.

You were gripping Thoma’s shoulders now, your moans growing louder and higher in pitch as he reached the peak of his pace, both of you singing in tandem with pleasure until your trembling legs seized, locking around his waist, and your back bowed off the bed, mouth hung open in another silent scream as you came undone for Thoma yet again.

It was hardly a moment later before Thoma was curling over you and finishing himself, trying to stay coherent so he could savor this sensation, this memory, as he filled you to the brim with his warm, sticky seed.

Both of you were breathing hard, panting out short, shallow little breaths into each other’s necks as you kept your bodies pressed close together, as if you could stay in that moment forever so long as you were still enough.

Ayato had to force himself to assert control over his own desires for just a little longer, removing his hand from himself and trying to focus back on you. But as you and Thoma’s chests returned to a slower, deeper rise and fall rhythm, Ayato pushed off from the bed.

He’d been plenty patient in waiting.

Now, it was his turn.

“How do you both feel?” Ayato asked as he came to sit on the edge of the bed closest to you. Thoma was still nestled deep inside you, his cock softening yet reluctant to leave the lovely warmth your body provided. But he knew his time was up. It wasn’t fair to keep you all for himself. That had been the deal. So, slowly, carefully, he pulled out of you, choking on a whine as some of his balmy whiteness leaked out of your pretty little hole, dripping down your ass and threatening to make a mess of the sheets.

Thoma went to swipe some of it away with his fingers but Ayato stopped him, gripping his wrist and giving him a playfully chiding look. “Don’t,” he stated, as if he’d read Thoma’s mind. “Let it stain.”

So used to taking his master’s orders, Thoma obeyed, stepping back and trading places with Ayato, who now assumed position over you.

“How’s our pretty girl doing, hm…?” Ayato cooed, so soft and safe that Thoma nearly didn’t recognize the voice as belonging to him. But what had actually caught him the most off guard was the word he’d used.

Our.

As in, belonging to both Ayato and Thoma.

The Kamisatos had never wanted for anything and had always had the power to take what they wished to claim for their own. Never had Thoma ever thought Ayato would be willing to share such a valuable rarity with the likes of his housekeeper. Not when there was only one. Not when it was you.

But he was.

And now it was Thoma’s turn to watch and trust that his friend would honor their deal when all was said and done. That Ayato would still be willing to share you even after he’d gotten a taste for himself.

You were just barely coming to when Ayato was staring down at you, haloed by the glowing moonlight, pale blue locks cascading over his broad, toned shoulders, skin glowing like a comet’s tail.

“Think you can go again, sweetheart?” Ayato asked, the question just above a whisper, as if murmuring a secret to you. And, for a moment, he feared he might not get to experience you at all. He feared you might’ve already had enough for one night and he’d be forced to finish himself off and wait until you were recovered to resume where things had left off. But all that fear disappeared once you gave a wobbly nod, reaching for him, wanting to pull him closer.

Ayato leaned down to meet you, his lips teasingly brushing against your own, letting you feel him smile against you, a mischievous little hum lilting in his throat. He pulled back a fraction, taking a devious satisfaction when you whined and tried to close the gap. He was going to have so much fun playing with you, learning how far to push you, how much you’d try and push back. But, for now, he gave you what you wanted.

When his mouth met yours, Ayato swore he could still taste Thoma on your tongue, something sugary sweet mingled in with your saliva that was unmistakably him.

Deepening the kiss, Ayato left you breathless, had you getting lost in the sensation. He could’ve kissed you for hours, kissed you until he forgot his own name.

But that would also have to wait for a later time, it seemed. Right now, there were more pressing matters at hand.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised you, gripping your hips to slide you further down the bed towards him. His strength was effortless, gracefully regal in its own right. He placed a big hand between your shoulder blades and slowly lifted you up a little, seeing the curiosity glittering in your gaze as you stared up at him, an unspoken question forming on your tongue.

“I think I want to try something a little different,” he told you, voice still soft and cautious. Then, with one of those subtle, charming smiles he asked, “Do you trust me?”

You nodded again, knowing that, whatever he had in mind, it would benefit you both.

Ayato shifted you so that you were straddling him, his hard cock poised and at the ready just inches below your sore little entrance, both of you sitting upright and facing each other. Your hands held his shoulders for purchase, able to feel all that lean muscle coiled beneath pale skin, while his hands made quick work of positioning you both for what came next.

With one, he guided his cock towards your hole, with the other, he kept a firm hold on one of your hips, helping you to sink down on his length, every velvety inch of him sliding deeper into your slick heat as you let out a few whimpers and your grip on his shoulders tightened.

Ayato felt different than Thoma, though no less pleasant. He filled you in a way that made you wince, stretching you just a little wider than Thoma had, but not quite sending those shooting jolts of pain to your core like when Thoma had brushed against your cervix. He was certainly close though, and once you got moving you’d be prepared for the pain.

He waited for you to catch your breath, let you slump against his chest as he stroked languid lines up and down your spine to try and help you relax, and once you’d seemed to adjust, he moved his hands to grip your both sides of your hips, beginning to help you bounce on his cock.

Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head before long, mouth agape with panting huffs and silent pleasure, Ayato’s strained moans punctuating the air. Thoma was once again entranced, watching the two of you with a dazed sort of reverence.

Thoma had been so gentle, so sweet and servicing, but Ayato held more of a dominance over you. Though, again, to choose one over the other wouldn’t have been easy for you. Good thing, you kept remembering, you got to have both.

“That’s it—” he told you, all prior control and elegance gone from his voice now, only left over with the raw vulnerability of pure animal desire. “That’s a good girl— Just like that— Fuck…”

Hearing the swear leave his lips had your legs trembling again, on the edge of being plunged beneath the surface of so much mind-numbing pleasure. Ayato was holding out, nearly getting lost in his own lust as the intoxicating clench of your cunt around his length made him see stars, but the moment you went tense with the height of your orgasm, silky walls squeezing around him the tightest they had yet, Ayato couldn’t wait anymore.

He lost any and all control he had left and filled you with his own sticky warmth, your quivering form slowly going slack against him, now entirely spent.

“Archons, baby…” Ayato sighed, holding you in his strong arms like you were the only thing in the entire world that mattered to him. The only thing he’d ever wanted. He briefly met eyes with Thoma who already looked halfway to getting hard again and beckoned him closer with a loose wave of his hand.

Thoma approached, already expecting orders, but instead what happened was Ayato gently wove his fingers through the short hair at Thoma’s neck and guided him closer until their foreheads were touching, resting against each other in a silent pact.

A promise.

After a while, Thoma starting to feel a little self conscious, he began to say, “I should go get something to clean us up with,” but Ayato stopped him before he could finish the suggestion with a shake of his head.

Carefully, he pulled out of you, both him and Thoma helping to lay you back on the bed and fluffing the pillows, adjusting them until you were most comfortable. You were so full from both Thoma and Ayato you swore you could feel it in your tummy, a whine escaping you as you felt their combined pleasure dribbling out of you, the cool night air hitting your soaked pussy and sending a shiver up your spine.

Thoma pulled one of the sheets over your form, and before long you were already dozing off. Once you were settled, Ayato finally said, a hint of mischief playing at the corners of his lips, “You stay here with her. I’ll take care of the cleaning up for once.”

Thoma went to interject and insist that he could do it— that he should do it— but Ayato wouldn’t hear of it. And so Thoma lay next to you in bed, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest and the flutter of your lashes while he waited for Ayato to return.

“Do you know how long I dreamt of this?” Thoma murmured, his voice barely detectable to you amidst the pleasure-fueled high of your slumbering daze. “Of you. Of us…” He sounded as if he were gliding through a dream, glazed over with pure adoration and only a little disbelief. Then, after the length of a few more of your slow, peaceful breaths, “I just could’ve never imagined it would feel so much better than anything I ever could’ve thought up. The during…” He propped himself up on one elbow, gingerly pressed a tender kiss to your sweet little forehead. “And the after…”

Ayato returned with a basin of warm water and a bundle of silky cloth. He handed one to Thoma and they both got to the careful and meticulous work of cleaning you up. You stirred upon their touch, both of them murmuring lulling words to you as you blinked open bleary eyes. When they were done taking care of their most special girl, Ayato wrapped you in his finest, softest robe and Thoma tucked you into bed, making you a spot in the middle among all the silk sheets and satin pillows, looking like a princess amidst all the fabric finery.

Ayato went to clean Thoma next, unable to suppress a smile as he caught his housekeeper blushing brighter shades of red the further down his body his careful, tentative hands traveled. He thought about letting him off the hook, but it seemed his habit of teasing him couldn’t resist.

“Feeling shy now, are we? After everything we’ve done?”

An embarrassed squeak crawled up Thoma’s throat as he opened his mouth to speak. Then he stammered out an adorably defensive, “N-no, it’s just— I’ve never had someone— And you of all people— I—”

Ayato Kamisato silenced his nervousness with one of those deviously charming chuckles, a low hum of mirth trailing off the end. “You should get used to others taking care of you for once, Thoma,” he lightly chastised. “Besides, if we’re to keep doing this I can’t have you feeling ashamed. The two of us agreed to share her but…” Ayato stood from where he’d been kneeling, finishing with his work of the mess that had been glazed over Thoma’s skin. He straightened to his full height, considering his housekeeper with a look that was almost pleading. “Would it be so bad if we partook in each other from time to time as well?”

Thoma flushed beet red from his chest all the way to the tips of his ears, averting his eyes from the taller man and nervously worrying his lip between his teeth. Of course he wouldn’t mind that. Him and Ayato had been close enough even before tonight that the consideration wasn’t entirely implausible. But to say it out loud…

That was a different bridge to cross.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Ayato suggested, seeming not to mind that Thoma was hesitating. There would be plenty of later opportunities to revisit and develop their new relationship and all the different dynamics of it. For once, Ayato Kamisato was content with being patient. He then nodded towards you, both of their eyes falling on your form. Your eyes were still barely open, watching them as if they were familiar, benevolent ghosts that appeared before the foot of your bed every night. “Poor thing’s had quite the exhausting night. Don’t want to keep her waiting.”

And with that, Thoma and Ayato climbed into bed to join you, both of them snuggling up to you at your request, reducing your trio of warm, sated bodies to a loose tangle of tired limbs and synchronized breathing.

As you fell asleep between them, you briefly reflected on your initial hesitation of being shared. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to handle it, whether physically, emotionally, or both. But now, after placing your trust in their hands, after experiencing how gently they’d treated you, how attentive they’d been, well…

Now you couldn’t imagine things any other way.

***

(Hello and thank you so much for reading! I sincerely hope you enjoyed! <3

I actually started this fic over a year ago but kept putting off finishing it, so I’m glad to have it done and concluded in a way I’m pretty satisfied with. I’ve loved Thoma and Ayato ever since I first played Inazuma so I’m glad I’ve finally been able to write a fic featuring both of them.

Anyway, thank you so so much once again for reading. I hope you have a wonderful day and do something kind for yourself. See you next time! Byyyyeee~!)

[glacierclear]

Can I... can I ask for some househusband Leon hcs?

alright. okay. we're gonna work with a few assumptions for these headcanons.

this all comes from the hypothetical of leon being fully retired from his line of work. he still has the same backstory, skillset, traumas, everything, it's just...now he's your loyal house husband!

cooking? this all depends on where he's at in life. mid-30s and onward? he's a chef. i don't believe he'd be terribly gourmet about it. you aren't coming home to a roasted duck served with a reduced wine glaze and a perfectly made risotto...but god. he can make some damn fine spaghetti. he'd likely shoot for simple dishes, with perhaps an added flair or two. homemade burgers. lots of steak dinners. he'd prefer anything that can be prepared with minimal mess. recipes that are made with one pot or one pan...a big hit for him. he is not a pretentious eater, and that would reflect in his cooking.

now, if we're talking early to late-20s leon? erm. well. let's just say he's learning. his transition from zombie apocalypse policeman to military meat shield didn't do much for his cooking skills. and a diet of MREs and scrounged up viper parts did even less. if post-re4 leon is your house husband you're gonna be eating a lot of questionable meals. he's not completely oblivious. he won't try and feed you absolute slop, but his abilities don't much exceed kraft mac and scrambled eggs. still! he's a domestic man now. plenty of free time to try out all sorts of new things in the kitchen! be on standby with a fire extinguisher when he decides 3am is a great time to make fried chicken from scratch!

leon's independent food preferences likely revolve around utility. protein. nutrition. careful rations. compact energy a growing boy needs to kill bioweapons. he doesn't strike me as having a particularly strong sweet tooth, but he also won't say no to a bit of dessert! but he's adaptable, of course. one must be in his line of work. your tastes and favored dishes will influence his palate a lot. he'll naturally associate flavors with you and will, over time, come to adopt a lot of your dietary choices.

cleaning? leon will do his best. you can count on him to not accidentally mix mustard gas in your bathroom, but his knack for cleanliness would be...odd. i choose to believe leon has a strict standard for bodily hygiene. his extended exposure to all manner of glop and viscera means he strives to smell nice and stay on top of dirt the best he can when he is able to...on his body. a house is different. he's never had to see it as a home, merely an empty room where he sleeps and eats. so maintaining it as a tidy space might not come naturally, and it's not as if he had a proper upbringing to teach him proper housekeeping techniques (cough, cough, he's an orphan).

man's a fast learner though. expect a lot of trial and error. him accidentally using glass cleaner on the stove. or not understanding the exact purpose of fabric softener. why do we need make our bed if we're just gonna sleep in it and mess it up again? he likely has a lot of bad habits from living on his own, but gentle guidance and persistent advice will go a long way.

of course, leon needs his private time. space for him to isolate and be alone...but, you're at work all day. the loneliness is easily accessible, and now that he has all the time and freedom to be with you...it's grating. his favorite sound is the noise your key makes when it unlocks the front door. he's careful, not incredibly overbearing, but you don't make it more than a few steps into your home before his head is poking around the corner. "how was your day? you look tired. here, let me take your coat off-" leon is a listener. he doesn't talk about himself much, if at all, so he'd prefer to just hear you ramble on about whatever you need to or want to. neck rubs. gentle squeezes on your arm. light kisses on your brow. he doesn't smother. he doesn't drown you in the touch he's so starved of. but you can tell, he misses you a lot.

the real issues will probably stem from the quiet. the absolute lack of danger. take a person out of their traumatic environment and things start crumbling real fast before they can start to heal. he's hyper-aware. paranoid. has all this pent up energy and an instinct to fight. and he has to redirect it all somewhere, right? it'd come out in bizarre ways. diy projects. you come home from work and he built you a fucking chair. you don't even need a chair, but now you have one. lots of yard work. he renovated your patio and set up a birdhouse (also handmade). you didn't really want him to rearrange your living room but he did it anyways.

and it's hard for him to relax. for him to feel truly safe. he'd insist on installing locks on all the doors. bulletproof windows. guns hidden and stashed in corners of the house, just in case. any tech that could impede on his privacy (ie, amazon echos, doorbell cameras, etc) are out of the question. he'd run you through drills and hypothetical scenarios. make sure you know what to do in any situation. he's vigilant, and honestly, you've never felt safer, but it wears him down and you aren't sure if it's truly good for him.

[dreamingofep]

Sinned Awakening pt. 7🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, angst, a little smut, aggression, blood/gore!!!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.2K

A/N: Hello everyone!

Welcome to part 7! I told you guys to get ready for some juicy stuff and its here! This is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story. I had to break this part up because it was going to be WAY too long and the next part is going to be in Elvis' perspective. I'll elaborate more later but I really liked the way that would flow and give you more insight about vampire!Elvis🤭 Please let me know what you think in the comments or send me a message!

If you’d like to start reading from the beginning, start here. 🩸

Thank you again!

Sorry for any spelling mistakes and overall goofs.🖤

Elvis huffs at you and brushes back his hair, looking at you with disappointment. He looks at the vile enviously and back up to you, giving you the same longing look. He bites his lower lip, trying to form the right words. You're growing scared and impatient and snap, "Elvis answer me!"

“I'm fine that’s all you need to know. Sometimes, I need special treatment. I contract special healers and they make these elixirs for me. It’s not harmful I promise you,” he assures. 

You search for the lie in his face. His face is motionless and unwavering, looking at you expectantly. 

“What’s in them? It looks like blood or something? You’re sure it’s not harmful?” You say hesitantly. 

He chuckles softly and shakes his head, “Don’t you worry about anything honey. It’s completely fine. Everything is natural and herbal. Helps me with energy and everything,” he says as he pulls you into his chest.

Of course, you love the way his arms feel around you, but something didn’t sit right with you. It just didn’t make any sense that he was taking herbal remedies when he could sure get any treatment or medicine in the world to help him get better. 

What exactly was wrong with him? The way his body temperature was drastically different from yours concerned you. That was not normal nor had you ever heard of someone having such a condition. Why was he so secretive about it all? Maybe it was an ego thing and he didn’t want to seem weak to you? You definitely didn’t think that at all, you were more concerned with the truth. 

He pulls you back into the bedroom and looks at you longingly, that perfect smile winning you over.

“Come lay in bed with me. Let’s enjoy this night together.” He coos, placing a kiss on the left side of your neck. He hums softly to himself, kissing your neck more and nipping there, relishing how sensitive this area was. You hiss at the sensation, loving it too much and you can feel yourself giving into him already. This bruise was never going to heal with him around and someone was bound to notice it. Daniel was bound to notice it.

You struggle to see clearly and your mind is covered in fog. Your heart is racing too much and you need space of your own. That was the only way to get yourself to think clearly. You stop in your tracks before he can pull you up on the bed and ravage your neck more. 

“Elvis I, I need a second to figure things out. Tonight was a lot and I need some space. I’m sorry. I need to figure out what to do.” 

He squeezes your hand and his eyes plead for you. 

“Honey no please, don’t go. I need you. I can’t be without you for too long.” He begs. 

You pull your hand away and head for the door, grabbing your dress off the floor and quickly pulling it up your body. 

The murmurs of the party grow louder the closer you get to the door and find your discarded heels on the floor. You feel Elvis’ cold hand grab your wrist one more time and you forcefully pull it away and grunt.

“Don’t! Please, listen to me and let me go,” you reprimand and quickly make your way out of his suite.

Dodging through the crowd, you make it to the front door and quickly make it to the elevator. You press the lobby button and the elevator cart lurches down. You needed space and a distraction from tonight’s events. You couldn’t focus on anything and the stale cigarette-filled air clouded your senses even more. 

Your life went up in shambles ever since you got assigned to work for Elvis. A part of you regrets ever accepting the position. Maybe your life could have been normal. Maybe you and Daniel had a shot of working things out and getting married and having a nice life together. All of that seemed impossible now that Elvis was in the picture.

But part of you knew that this was for the better. You doubted Daniel’s intentions for quite some time now and this only solidified them. Maybe Elvis was your saving grace? An angel of some sort saving you from the wreckage of your life and saving the day. Tears start to fall and you let the overwhelming sadness floods your mind. 

One thing at a time.

Get some air.

“Y/n?’ A soft voice says behind you.

You turn around and find the worried eyes of Anna.

“Hey,” you sniffle, wiping some of the tears on your cheeks.

Anna’s face is full of concern and goes in to hug you. You welcome her embrace, needing a friend more than ever. Your tears flow freely now as you cannot hold back anymore.

She lets you cry in the middle of the lively lobby of The International until you can finally pull yourself together.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” You ask.

She nods her head right away, “Come on, let's go.” She says and leads you out of the building.

*

Getting to Anna’s apartment, she lets you borrow some pajamas and makes you a cup of tea as you blankly stare at the candle flame on the table, contemplating your whole life.

She’s gentle when she talks to you, unsure of how to start this conversation.

Sitting next to you, she takes your hand and squeezes it.

“What’s going on y/n? Are you okay?” She asks.

You scoff slightly and shake your head, “I have no idea what I’m doing. These last few weeks… it’s been a mess,” you admit. She looks at you concerned and tries to get you to elaborate. 

“Well, what’s happened that has made you so upset?” 

You take a deep breath and look back up at Anna, “For starters, Daniel cheats on me. I saw it in the flesh tonight at the party. He was pushing up against some young chick and was kissing her. I wanted to scream and yell at him but I didn’t have it in me to do it. It was awful,” you admit. 

She is in shock with the news and grants your hand, “Honey I’m so sorry you found out this way. That’s just awful I couldn’t imagine how that feels. Are you going to confront him?” She asks. 

“God yes! I’m sick of being taken for granted! I’ve waited patiently for years to get married and he just proved his feelings towards me tonight. He couldn’t give a damn. I need to leave,” You seethe. 

“Where are you going to go? Have you thought about where you might live?”

“No, but I’ll figure something out, maybe Elvis could…,” You trail off. 

You look over at her curious eyes and you sigh, knowing you need to tell someone. 

“You have to promise me you won’t tell a soul,” you say starkly. 

“Of course, I promise,” she says concerned. 

“Me and Elvis well… I’ve been umm,” you pause embarrassed. 

Her eyes grow wide and she covers her mouth in shock. 

“Y/n oh my god… you’ve been…,” she raises her eyebrows, insinuating the dirty things you two have been doing. 

You sigh and cover your face, “Yes. Every last bad thing you can think of, God I’m a terrible human being Anna. I don’t know how this all got out of hand,” you confess. 

“I’m not judging you at all! You do what you have to but oh my god with Elvis?! What a person to have an affair with?! I thought you said he was an asshole? What happened that changed your mind?” She asks. 

You have to search for what the exact moment was but it was hard to say. It felt like it happened all at once you were in his grasp. You pull your hair to the side to nervously play with it, trying to collect your train of thought then Anna audibly gasps. You look at her surprised at what the sudden outburst was about and watch her stare lasers at your neck. 

You cover the bruise with your hand and instantly wince, the soreness spreading down your neck since he was biting there not too long ago. 

“Yeah… he’s very uhh… possessive over my neck sorry,” you blush, pushing your hair over to the side of the bruise. 

She cracks up and buckles over laughing. You can’t help but laugh with her as all of this is insane. You have a hickey from Elvis Presley. Who would have thought?

“Seriously how the hell does something like this happen? One day you’re hating the guy and the next he’s sucking on your neck?!” She jokes. 

“I know, I know it’s insane! I don’t know… it was like a huge explosion went off and we couldn’t get away from each other. He’s like a magnet. The closer I get to him, the harder it is to pull myself away. And his eyes oh my god, they suck you in I don’t know how to describe it,” you say exasperated. 

“I’m in shock, I don’t know what else to say... Is it good?” she says smugly. 

Your cheeks turn bright red and hide your face in your hands again.

"Oh my God!" you chastise her, but quickly nod your head yes. Another burst of laughter comes out of both of you, like little school girls.

"I mean, I would assume so but I had to hear it from you. How long has it been going on?” she asks in between laughs.

“A couple days now? It’s been a blur but I don’t want to get away from him. He’s so mysterious and sheltered, but also very tender, it’s hard to explain how he is when it’s just us two. I agreed to work for him, solely for him. He’s going to be paying me,” You admit. 

“You are?! I think that’s great! You’ll be making much more I’m sure and now you definitely don’t need Daniel to help support you! Maybe Elvis can help you find somewhere to stay. I’m sure he has connections,” she says. 

It was an option you hadn’t considered and would probably be a good thing to mention to Elvis. But not right now. Right now you need space and time from both of those overwhelming men. 

“I will, not right now though. I need my space and need to think about all of this logically,” you explain. 

“Good, stay here as long as you want I’m here for you. I assume you’ll eventually tell Daniel? That you’re breaking things off?” She says lightly. 

“Yeah, I will. It’s been a long time coming and what happened tonight just solidified it,” you say firmly. 

Anna pauses and looks at you with concern, “And Elvis? What are you going to do about him?” 

That was something you had no answer for. Something that terrified you because deep down you knew this was just a heat of-the moment fling and he wouldn’t be around forever. He was leaving Vegas roughly in two weeks and was off to tour or go back to Memphis and rest for a while. Either way, your two paths wouldn’t cross again most likely and all of this would be for nothing. 

“I don’t know… there’s a lot I need to figure out and it’s not going to happen today. I think I just need to sleep,” you admit. She agrees with you and gets some extra blankets and a pillow from the linen closet. You thank her again for being so gracious to you and get comfy on the couch. She goes to her room and shuts the door telling you she loves you. 

You start to close your eyes, the darkness of sleep clouds your vision. You peek at the clock one last time before you fully fall asleep and see a tall shadow in the corner of the room looming. You shoot your eyes wide open and the only fragment of color you do see is red. You quickly put on the lamp and light up the completely dark and empty room. You groan and rub your head in frustration. 

You’re exhausted, you try to tell yourself. 

Get some sleep and everything will be okay. 

*

Three days later, you decide it’s time to face Daniel. There was no point in hiding anymore and needed to get it over with. You should also see Elvis and tell him your decisions and see if he can help you any. 

You were still going to stay with Anna for a bit but needed to go back to the apartment anyway to pick up some of your own clothes. She kept telling you she didn’t mind you staying and loved having the company. You did too and were very grateful she was so understanding about this whole situation. 

The apartment was only five minutes away so it would be relatively quick to pack some stuff and tell Daniel you’re done. Anna lets you borrow her car to get there and you tell her you’ll be back soon and head out the door. 

You quickly park the car and get the extra key under your potted hydrangea. Opening the door, it’s quiet as usual, and don’t get greeted by him. He’s not in his usual chair in the living room and you don’t look for him right away. You’d rather pack a bag and get some of your things together first. 

Reaching in your drawer, you grab a handful of socks and a handful of underwear then go to your closet to grab some jeans and shirts. 

Going to the bathroom next, you grab some toiletries and hear footsteps coming. You look and see Daniel’s tired eyes look into the bathroom. 

“What are you doing?” He asks. 

“I’m staying with Anna,” you say coldly. 

He scoffs at your tone, “why?”

You stop what you’re doing to look at him for the first time in the eye since the party. 

“You know exactly why! It was only a matter of time before I would have found out!” You yell. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” He asks. 

“I saw you at the party! I saw what you were doing with her,” you reprimand. 

He furrows his brow and looks at you confused. 

“What party? I don’t understand what you’re accusing me of!” He says annoyed. 

“Elvis’ party! I saw you the other night kissing some chick! Don’t deny it!” You bellow. 

He stares at you with his eyes wide and he cocks his head looking at you. 

“I’ve never been to one of Elvis’ parties. I’ve been working the last three days I have no idea what you’re talking about! Even after work I was coming straight home,” he explains. 

“You were yelling and making a scene! How the fuck don’t you remember?” 

“Were you at Elvis’ party? Why were you ever around that asshole?! You shouldn’t be-,”

You cut him off, so pissed off that he dares to criticize what you do when you clearly saw him in the act.

“Shut the hell up! I’m done! I know what I saw,” You yell at him.

None of this makes sense. You saw him. You had to drag him to that party, he definitely was there! You’re not making this up. You saw him with that girl!

You need to go home. She's not here. She's out with Anna. Do not go looking for her and go straight home..

Elvis’ words rang in your ear as you remembered what he said to Daniel that night. You know what you saw and you heard. You weren’t crazy. Either way, you needed to get out of here and go to Elvis for answers.  

“I need to leave, Don’t try and follow me,” you say bluntly, pushing past him in the doorway and quickly rushing out the door. You shove the key into the ignition and drive in the direction of The International.

Your car comes to a screeching halt in the parking garage and quickly shift the gear into park. 

He’s lying to you.

In some shape or form, Elvis was lying to you. What did he do to Daniel? Why didn’t he remember the party?!

Did he drug him? Or did his men?

As much as you didn’t want to ever defend him, he didn’t need to drug him.

This was the whole reason you decided to confront him; you saw him kissing another woman and that’s what finally pushed you to get up and leave!

You swiftly walk through the doors leading to the locker room and put your key into the elevator. So many emotions floated in your head as you didn’t know where to start the conversation with Elvis. As much as you wanted to tell him the good news, the shocking revelation ate at you and needed to be settled first, then he could have some happiness.

The ding of the elevator tells you you made it to the penthouse floor. You march out and get panicked looks from his men standing watch in the hallway. You quickly rush by them and the man closest to the door holds out his hand, blocking the handle from you.

“Mr. Presley is to not be disturbed,” he barks at you.

“Elvis said I can go in anytime I want now. You can’t tell me what to do,” you spat.

The man doesn’t move his hand and you stare at him in disbelief. You push his arm to the side, quickly pushing the door open and locking it behind you.

You huff when you safely get in the suite and it’s in pretty clean condition after a couple of parties. There isn’t much to clean in general and that gives you a sigh of relief, you need to really focus on what you want to tell Elvis. You walk through the suite and as usual, it's starkly quiet.

Peeking into every room, he’s nowhere to be found. The only other room you haven’t checked is his bedroom. You walk over to the other side of the suite where his bedroom is and notice the door cracked open. The closer you get, the louder the sound of moans become. Your eyebrows shoot up, intrigued with what you might find in there. Last time, it was quite a surprise and this time, you were hoping he would let you help him. 

Jesus no, focus, talk to him first then do whatever you want to do to him. 

“Mhmm, good girl,” he praises, his voice filling your ears. You could recognize that deep baritone voice in your sleep now. His voice already has your core throbbing, you wanted to be the one receiving such praise.

Finally, at the door frame, you push the cracked door open a bit more, just to see his reflection in the mirror and witness what he was doing.

You peep in and your stomach drops when your eyes register what is happening.

There in the reflection, you see Elvis standing at the side of the bed, pushing up against some beautiful brunette with her back to the door. He’s standing in between her legs with his shirt off. She’s wearing dark blue lingerie and you watch as his hands trace the delicate fabric that is barely covering her nipples. She moans and tries to reach for his cock but he doesn’t let her, he moves her hands to her sides she obeys him. He keeps teasing her, cupping her breasts then sliding one of his hands up her throat.

“Please, Elvis,” she moans weakly.

He grumbles and sighs deeply, “I promise hun, I’ll give it to you. Just let me keep touchin’ ya,” he says almost drunkenly. His hand darts lower and his thumb winds her clit in a focused fashion. She moans more and you feel that familiar rage of jealousy boil up inside you. His fingers trace the side of her neck again and he groans. You can hear his breathing accelerate from the door and your own heart races at what you're witnessing. 

“Okay honey, imma give it to you are you ready for me?” He asks in a hushed whisper.

She nods enthusiastically and looks up at him and tries to kiss him. He grabs a fistful of her hair, turns her head to the side, and nibbles at her neck and up to her cheek. He repeats this motion and your eyes can’t bear to watch any more of this. Your blood boiled at this point, ready to walk out, not needing to see much more evidence of how you can’t keep a man faithful to you. 

“You’re gonna make me feel so good,” Elvis moans in her ear, kissing her neck and she claws at his arm.

He holds her tight, one arm wrapped around her torso, one hand holding her head to the side. 

A low growl comes out of him and he places his lips harder into her neck. He groans loudly while she makes an ear-splitting scream. Her shrill cry rings throughout your ears and you freeze in horror.

Elvis lifts his head up briefly and all you see is an animal instead. You see his long fangs extended down past his normal canines and blood covering his lips and chin. The girl is gasping for air as he goes back for more. You swing open the door, in utter disbelief of what you’re seeing. You hear him suck on her neck loudly, gulping her blood down like its favorite drink on a hot day. 

You feel your stomach hurl and your mouth feels completely dry watching Elvis… or whoever you think this thing is, suck the blood out of this girl. You realize you’ve been holding your breath as your been watching this horror unfold before you. Taking a sharp breath of air in, Elvis hears you. He takes his mouth off her neck and makes direct eye contact with you.

The things you see make your heart want to pop out of your chest and his face only looked more terrifying. His eyes were bright red, black veins protruding on his face, especially near the eyes. He looked like a rabid dog, his face covered in blood and dripping down his face and onto his neck. His fangs were long and extra sharp. His pupil was so dilated, it was like he was on drugs but you knew this was way worse.

You hear him let out a frustrated grunt and drops the girl’s body onto the bed. You are mortified as you watch her weak body flop onto the bed and lay there groaning in agony. It feels like a blink, but from the time you look at the girl, then back to Elvis, he’s inches from your face, practically foaming at the mouth.

“You never listen do you,” he growls, his voice an octave deeper than it normally is. You jump out of your skin looking at him this close as he is yelling at you.

Your knees feel like they could give out any second and you try to stagger backward, bile rising in your throat.

“W-w-what… what the fuck are you?! Oh my ggod what the fuck?!” You scream at him. He lurches toward you and in a swift motion, his hand is on your neck, pushing you against the door frame.

“You weren’t supposed to find out! Ever! You were supposed to see past the monster. But you’re so goddamn nosey and can’t follow a simple direction can you?!” He yells.

You have to turn your head away, you cannot look at his lifeless face and those crimson-red eyes trying to burn their way into your flesh. You scratch at his hand that is wrapped around your neck in hopes of trying to get free. You whimper and whine as you try your best to get away from him but are completely failing.

“Answer me!” He barks, blood splattering on your face as he gets even closer the more upset he gets.

You audibly cry, tears starting to fill your eyes out of fear.

“Elvis!? W-what are you! Let go of me now!” You yell.

He listens and lets go of your neck. You collapse on your knees onto the floor, gasping for air. You rub your sore throat and look up at him in horror. He’s heaving sporadically and pacing the room like a caged animal. 

You have to shut your eyes as you feel the room spinning. Your stomach continued to turn and felt like you were going to puke. You try to get up but fall back onto your knees. There’s no use in running but you have to try. Crawling away, you make it into the living room, but in the blink of an eye, Elvis is standing in front of you. You scream and try to keep a distance away from him. You feel his cold hands grab you underneath your underarms and pick you up. You scream and flail in his grasp but he’s much stronger than you and it doesn’t help you any. 

He forcefully sits you on the sofa and points his finger at you, “don’t move. There’s no point in running away,” he scowls. You stare petrified being so close to the long fangs. They look like they could tear you into pieces in an instant if you weren’t careful. You quickly nod at him and watch as he goes back into the bedroom. 

Not too long after, he’s carrying the girl in his arms and heading for the door. She’s whimpering and holding onto his neck. Before he opens it, he pauses and makes her look at him. 

“You’re going to go home. You were out with some girlfriends and got drunk and met some guy. You were never here,” he instructs smoothly. She whimpers in agreement and nods her head, barely keeping her eyes open. He licks her neck clean, getting rid of the blood dripping from the bite mark. You stare in awe as you see the mark become more faint before he opens the door to let her out. He hands her to one of the men waiting outside and tells him to take of this. 

Slamming the door loudly, you watch in horror of what he might do. His shoulders rise and fall quickly and his hand grips onto the doorknob tightly. The crushing of metal makes your skin crawl and the thud of the knob falls to the floor. You audibly gasp, seeing how you are now stuck here with this thing. There’s no way out.

He turns around and stares intensely at you, his eyes slowly fading from that crimson red to a black-blue color. His fangs are still visible and the blood covering his face makes him still look terrifying. 

Elvis starts to pace the room and frustratedly runs his hands through his jet-black hair. 

“I should have when I had the chance… fuck! Why can’t you fucking forget! This would be so much easier if you could just forget what you’ve seen!” He yells at you. 

“How the fuck do you expect me to just forget about all of that!? Are you insane?!” You accuse. 

In a blink, he’s in your face and you feel a gush of wind to follow. You’re stuck face to face with his fangs dangerously close to your face, his large frame looming over you and try to squirm away. He holds you still, his cold hands like frozen vises around your arms. His eyes pierce into yours and he he traces your bottom lip with his finger. You can’t help but recoil from him in horror, unsure of what he might do to you anymore. 

“I repulse you, don’t I?” He growls. 

You feel like you could pass out any second and scratch at him and try to push away his chest. He doesn’t even budge and a low growl forms from deep within his chest. 

“Elvis, please,” you beg. 

“Yes or no, tell me! Do I repulse you?” He seethed.

You gasp and more tears fall across your face, “y-y-yes! Please get away don’t hurt me!” You beg.

His hand hovers over the left side of your chest and carefully places it over your heart. He sucks in a sharp breath in through his teeth and exhales. 

“God, your heart. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. How can something so beautiful be attracted to something so hideous,” he sneers. 

He can hear your heart?…

You feel your heart gallop quicker and he smiles because of this. 

His hand then trails up to your neck and pauses there, rubbing slow circles there at the bruise. He looks at you hungrily, like he didn’t get enough from that girl and you’re next on the menu. 

From the look in your eyes, he sees the horror washed over you and he groans in frustration. He quickly walks away towards the bathroom to wipe his face clean. After some time, he comes back out and slowly walks toward you, his fangs no longer present but his eyes are still a dark blue.  

You’re paralyzed with fear and couldn’t move even if you tried. He calmly sits across from you in the red chair he sat in the other night and doesn’t make a sound. 

“This can’t be happening,” you whimper, “monsters aren’t real…” you say getting lost in thought. You look back at him and there’s so much hurt in those eyes it kills you. 

“You’re a… you’re a vampire. How the fuck is that possible?” You ask frazzled. 

He nervously plays with his rings and looks down. 

“There’s a lot in this world you don’t understand,” he mutters. You hug your knees to your chest and try to figure out what you want to say next. 

“That poor girl! You could have killed her. What stops her from going to the police?!” You chastise. 

“She won’t. She won’t even remember a thing,” he grumbles. 

Like any of this could get any more confusing, you stare at his slumped demeanor. 

“What?! Of course she’ll remember! You bit her!” You scream. 

He looks up at you harshly and that look shuts you up. 

“I have abilities… abilities to compel people to do anything I want. So if I want them to forget, they will.” He explains. 

You sit there in shock, expecting the worst from this new admission. 

“Oh my… Jesus. Have you… compelled me?! Throughout any of our time together, have you?!” You yell. 

He chuckles to himself and pushes his hair off his forehead. 

“No, believe me I’ve tried, but I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” You ask confused. He continues to laugh, amused by your incessant questions. 

“Do you really want to be compelled by me? That’s a really silly thing to ask. Having to do every last thing I desire? But no. You’ve done all those things willingly with me under no compelling,” he boasts with a sly grin on his face. 

You look away and still feel the room spinning. The bile that formed in your throat lingers and you try to push it down. There were too many questions forming in your head at once and tried to figure out what you wanted to get from him next. 

Your mind races to the beginning, from the first day you met him, and try to remember what other signs you missed. 

Oh god. 

The champagne bottle. 

The look he had when you were standing in front of him, blood dripping down your arm and spreading across his fingers when he held your wrist that first day on the job.

“The bottle I broke… what did you do with it,” you ask scared. “Did you… drink my blood?”

He looks up at you slyly and grins. 

“Okay fine, let’s start from the beginning.”

•

•

•

Tagging: @powerofelvis @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxoxo @loving-elvis

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog @myradiaz @lookingforrainbows @elvispresleygf @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen

@18Ikpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873 @austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis @everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy @elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7 @lettersfromvenus @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121 @jaqueline19997

@returntopresley @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb

[paingoes]

Destroyer - Thorns

(Masterlist)

(Content: physical abuse, verbal abuse, living weapon whump, degredation, dehumanization)

Weeks passed, the majority of them spent upon the freshly mobilized battleship. Paris had named it Thorn, but in every briefing it was translated to “Splinter”. He’d wanted to move away as quickly as possible, but the ship was being pulled back into the bay for repairs every other day. The typical ambiance of the active craft was now frequently punctuated by the sound of construction. It grew worse by the day, just as bad for the passengers as it was for their enemies. Paris learned to sleep through the depressurization alarms.

Delta was adjusting to the new space. His new room was smaller than his previous one, but it was still spacious. Beyond that, he was often allowed to leave it. Paris said he wanted to know where Delta was all hours of the day, in theory, but he often so busy he forgot to check up. It was the most freedom of moment Delta had been given in a long time. He walked the ship’s floors silently, haunting it. The people aboard know who he was and they left him alone. He was glad.

When they did eventually get the ship up and running, capable of more than sprints, most of the crew had already been debriefed on the new management. Delta had received training from the maid service in some basic housekeeping tasks, such as cooking, cleaning, and sewing. For some reason, this greatly upset both his handlers. Simon saw it as a waste of Delta’s time, while Martino saw it as undignified for his rank. The latter confused Delta; it was the only time the doctor ever seemed to care about his dignity. Nevertheless, they convinced Paris that it wasn’t right for Delta to be used as some interchangeable staff. Paris relented, agreeing that Delta would only serve him and his court, keeping all things within the dynasty.

The upshot of this was that Delta spent a lot more time in proximity of Paris - and was kept under much closer watch. Paris did not always need or even want him around, but much of Delta’s day was structured around this arrangement. By the first month, they’d settled into a tentative schedule.

When Paris didn’t have any mission in mind, which was most days, Delta was dismissed to go train. He’d find Dr.Martino, who would run the first round of tests on him, checking vitals and his blood chemistry, seeing how conductive his veins were to the electricity that pulsed through them. Then, he got passed onto Simon to run drills.

The psionic drills had to be done in a closed environment. On the ship, they had to go for low intensity, so as not to cause damage to the hull. But Simon made up for it, forcing Delta to do high-precision and high-focus work. An exercise that Simon had grown very fond of was having Delta stick blades into the walls, arranging them in different shapes. It required him to focus and manipulate dozens of blades at once and move them independently, without causing them to crash into each other. It also required forceful stabbing, which was a good skill to have at that point.

It wasn’t the kind of outburst that would cause him to faint, but it did exhaust him. Simon would force him to go at it for several hours, stopping at his own leisure, never Delta’s. He’d only be released in the late afternoon. Before, Simon would take the time to tutor him, but now lacked both the resources and the energy. He still gave Delta any books he thought he would need, which would have been fine if he had the time to read them. Delta barely had enough time to eat before Paris would summon him again.

Paris called him into his room or into his office. He’d order Delta to kneel and keep him there most of the night. If Paris was busy, Delta would sit in silence, nothing more than an ornament for the room. Paris would smack him if he fidgeted too much, but that was all.

“I should make you wear a bell,” He joked whenever Delta couldn’t hold still. Delta, of course, did not see the point of this. It was on nights where Paris had nothing better to do that he got his explanation.

On slow nights, Paris would rake his fingers through Delta’s hair, placing them at the base of his neck. Delta shivered at the touch, which would only cause Paris to tighten his grasp. Paris looked over him like he was an insect, a mix of contempt and curiosity. His voice was low.

“I know what you’re doing.”

Delta didn’t respond, which was all the confirmation Paris needed. He took a fistful of Delta’s hair, yanking him closer. He tsked, “There’s that fucking face again. Admit it. You think you’re too good for this.”

Delta winced. There was no answer Paris would accept; he knew that. The whole point of this was to break him down. “I do, yeah,” Delta admitted, seconds before Paris smacked his head into the desk.

“Fuck,” Delta muttered to himself. Paris kicked him onto his back, not even moving from his desk chair.

“I knew it,” Paris smirked, crossing his legs, “It’s okay, though. It doesn’t matter what you think. You’re an object. The way you feel about your position has no bearing at all on the way you’ll act. You’re still gonna do what I say, right? Or I’ll have to remind you how this works?”

Delta rubbed his head, not looking at him. Stupid. Just an exercise in futility. He never needed reminding, never had. He couldn’t tell if the prince was actually that insecure or if he was just messing with him. It did not come off as a serious exchange. Paris was nothing like his father.

“Sit back up and fucking answer me,” Paris said.

Delta crawled back onto his knees. “Yes, Your Highness,” he answered wearily. Paris moved to slap him again and he flinched.

Paris withdrew his hand.

“Good. You’re dismissed.” He nodded. After a minute, he added. “Go put ice on that, I don’t want your face to swell.” .

“Yes, Your Highness,” Delta got to his feet, lightheaded. He brushed his hair back into place, sparing no further looks.

[snowblossomreads]

Day 16: Ways to Keep Warm

Pairing: Judge Turpin x Wife!Reader

Summary: In where Richard returns home, angry that the courthouse has been closed due to an impending blizzard, and [Y/n] finds a way to use that pent up energy.

Tag(s)/Warning(s): Smut! (Oral fem receiving, allusions to female hysteria, penetrative sex), ownership of spouse (it was in the olden days lol), bold wife!, undue anger to servant, that's about it..?

Word Count: 3.1K

A/N: Evil cackles, if you're were looking for when Turpin was going to appear well wait no more! Please enjoy some warmth with him on these cold (depending where you are) winter nights : D. On ward to the smut. Also sorry for any mistakes of course (is past one am when im editing LOL)

MDNI

"Curse this bloody weather!"

The thunderous shout of her husband's voice seemed to shake the house as [Y/n] padded to the top of the staircase to find what the commotion was about. She hadn't expected him home for lunch, so to see him taking his coat off so aggressively and throwing it at Alice, one of their housekeepers, had her intrigued and mildly confused.

"Richard, my heart welcome home!" She called, coming down the stairs. "I wasn't expecting you back from court so early. Is something the matter?"

"The only thing that is the matter is this wretched weather we have. I swear each year it gets worse," he complained harshly, sitting on the cushioned bench against the wall while pulling his snow-covered boots off. "The courthouse," he hissed, tossing the boot aside with anger, causing the women to jump at the loud thump it made. "Had to recess due to the beginnings of a blizzard. A blizzard, that caught me halfway on my trip back here."

Ah. That would explain the copious amount of snow that had been trekked in, and the many flurries that coated his clothing.

"I'm sorry love, I know how busy you are and I’m sure this isn’t quite the way you wish to spend the day," [Y/n] said sweetly in hopes her tone would assuage his irritation.

As she approached him, she eyed Alice, giving her a nod that meant for her to leave them be. She didn't want the poor girl to feel the wrath of her husband as he never did learn to keep his temper on a leash when things went awry with his schedule.

Curtsying quickly, Alice gave a grateful smile to [Y/n] as thanks before she silently departed to hang her lord's coat somewhere to dry. Going to hand the poor girl something else, when he looked up and saw she was gone, his nostrils flared in annoyance before he shouted,

"Where did that stupid girl go!"

"Richard enough," [Y/n] commanded sternly.

While she loved her husband and held him in reverence as many others did, she drew a line at the way he would talk about their servants. Angry or not. She would not put up with it, even from her husband who was the lord of the house and over her.

Had it been any other husband, they may have lashed out even more. Or worse yet, laid hands on her for being a disrespectful wife. But no, with Richard, he may seem cold with those icy eyes and stern demeanor, but when it came to her, he swore no harm would come to her by his hand or any.

So when she spoke sternly to him, he was neither offended nor angered. He only became silent as he tossed his other boot off with that large frown on his face. Honestly, for a man who seemed frightening to all, her husband very much hung on her words. Only showing his caring side towards her and only in their home.

"Now come, there is no need to for harsh words, I'll put the boots up," she said, picking them up and placing them neatly so no one would trip and maim themselves. "There is a fire waiting in the parlour where we can stay warm. Let us give it some company, and I shall have Alice draw you a warm bath to stave off the chill."

"I do not wish for a bath [Y/n]! I wish to be at court, sentencing those who believe their wrongdoings have no consequences."

A thought popped into her mind. Well if he couldn’t do his job and needed something to occupy him, well she had ideas.

"Well unfortunately, that will not be happening for the safety of you and the others but, if a bath is not what you wish for my lord, mayhap we can find a better occupation that can keep you from going mad?"

That seemed to catch his attention as he looked up at her with a glint in his eyes signaling he was at least pondering her words.

"And what would this occupation be?" He drawled in that rich baritone of his that would always set her body alight.

Smiling at him, she didn't answer, only walking past him and causing him to raise an inquisitive eyebrow as he followed her with his eyes. Once she was at the base of the staircase, she turned her head back to him, a smirk on her lips.

"It involves you following me to our bedroom, my Lord," she purred in the most enticing tone she could manage. "And making use of the energy that you have pent up from not being in court today. Unless you find this to also be not of your liking?"

That seemed to catch his attention, as he stood from the the bench and stalked across the hallway towards her. His strong thick body was quickly pressed up against [Y/n] who groaned sweetly at the feel of her husband behind her.

"Hmm, well if my sweet, and innocent wife is offering," he murmured, causing the hair on her neck to rise as his breath caressed her exposed skin. "I may be yet swayed from working while away from the court."

"Then come along," [Y/n] whispered, turning to face him as she placed her hand on his chest. "I shall endeavour to do my best, and to sway you from doing such a thing."

Her invitation was punctuated with her boldly pressing their lips in a kiss that was not at all chaste. Her tongue licked at the seam of his lips as if asking for permission, and if he was caught off guard by his wife who was usually shy and mild manner he didn't show it as he hungrily accepted her advances.

Their tongues immediately danced with each other as [Y/n]'s hand buried itself in his grey tresses, and a low groan rumbled from her husband's lips as he dominated the kiss.

Breaking away from each other out of breath, and already warmer than they just were, they shared a fleeting glance before they made their way up the stairs.

It was by some miracle, that he didn't take her on the stairwell for all of the servants to see with how many times they had to pause because one of them wanted their lips on the other. When they entered the room, he was already ripping at her clothes, desperate to have his wife's body bared and underneath him.

"Richard!" She gasped in surprise, as he pulled off her night dress that she had still been wearing, exposing her breast to the cold room and causing her nipples to pebble.

A whimper escaped her lips as he strolled behind her before cupping her chest with his large warm hands. Her back arched at his touch as he began to squeeze the mounds, massaging the delicate skin before pinching her nipples in between his thumb and index.

"Mhmm my lord," she whined breathlessly as she melted at his firm touches. It didn't take long before she was rubbing herself on his hardened member that she could feel straining for release in his trousers.

"Oh yes my pretty little wife," he praised, as he leaned down kissing her exposed neck that she granted him more access to by tilting her head to the side. "All bare and soft for me," he continued, sucking at her tender flesh causing her breath to hitch and higher-pitched moans to leave her. "So sweet and…"

He trailed off, one of his hands leaving her tit before travelling down to paw at her opening that was already soaking with desire for him. A loud, needy keen left her throat and he felt the sound go right to his cock that was straining for release.

"And wet for me just like a good wife should be," he crooned in her ear, as he pressed his thick fingers inside of her causing her to suddenly be on her tip toes as he entered her.

"Y-yes Richard my love ah all for you," she squealed as he began to thrust his fingers into her, stretching her wanting cunt. 

The squelching sound of her wetness filled the room as she moaned and whined blissfully as she took pleasure from her husband's skilled fingers. Two fingers became three as he readied her to take his manhood, and when he felt her body quaking against him and her cunt sucking at his fingers, he gave her one last thrust before pulling his digits out of her.

A tiny squeak fell from her lips as she was pushed towards the bed, causing her front to hit the edge of it before she climbed up and crawled towards the middle of it.

Flipping around, she let out a gasp as her husband was right on her heels, his undershirt and trousers already discarded with his pants leaving him naked with his cock standing at attention and weeping with his seed.

Heavens was the sight of her husband stalking over to her delicious. With the sparse smattering of grey chest hair on his broad chest, the slight belly he wore showing how healthy of an appetite he had, and the thick strong legs that she had more than once taken her pleasure on. The thoughts that swirled in her mind only made her body throb with want as she watched him get on the bed with her, towering over her with his stature.

He made her feel so safe, so loved, and with it came the need for her to submit to him, body, mind and soul and she was happy to do all of that.

"Take me, Richard," she wantonly begged bucking her hips in his direction as she offered herself to her husband. "Please fill me up I wish to be warm with your seed," she pleaded shamelessly to the only man who could make blood burn with such lust and want. The only man whose gaze burned her in the most pleasurable way whether he was angry or pleased.

"Greedy little harlot," he hissed, as he knelled in front of her spread thighs that glistened with her wetness and need for him.

A sudden thought filled the judge's brain at the sight of her dripping opening and the grin that grew on his features was predatory. His gaze shot a pang of excitement in her belly and before she knew it, he was pulling her towards him with such strength that she let out a clipped shriek.

Her legs were suddenly being put on his shoulder and her lower body was lifted up from the bed only to have her womanhood angled directly in front of his mouth.

"Richard!" She squeaked abashedly, never having been exposed like this to him but her surprise morphed into an incoherent noise as he began to nuzzle her swollen nub with his beautiful aquiline nose.

The sudden shock of pleasure had her legs going stiff and her hands gripping at the blanket as he alternated from nuzzling her clit to using his tongue to pleasure the swollen nub.

"Oh my- oh my lord Richard!" She croaked, his name falling from her lips in a broken cry as she began to grind her hips against his face while he feasted on her.

Tongue swirling around her nub, he used his fingers to open her dripping cunt before diving into her with his tongue, lapping at her sweet juices that drove him mad at the heady scent that came along with it.

High-pitched whimpers, along with his name, fell from her lips as if she were a woman hysterical. And she was, thanks to the pleasure that her husband showered upon her as she wiggled and moaned his name like a prayer. Her stomach clenched and unclenched uncontrollably at the assault of his tongue inside her, and the way his stubble would rub against her sensitive womanhood had her going insane. 

Her noises had him groaning, and his cock throbbing as it bobbed heavily against his stomach, straining towards his abdomen as it too was ready to taste the sweetness of her soaked cunt. It wouldn't need to wait long as Richard swirled his tongue in her opening once more before licking her slit to clit causing her to shiver.

"Exquisite," he groaned as he pulled away from her throbbing cunt that was swollen with need and shining with the mixture of spit and slick that dripped down her trembling thighs.

Grabbing her legs, and moving them so that they were around his waist, and her lower back was against the mattress now, Richard lined his manhood against his wife's opening before pushing the thick head past her entrance.

The burning stretch of him as he entered her body had tears pricking at her eyes and her lips parting in a silent cry. Inch by inch, he slid into her slowly, teasingly as she trembled beneath him.

She could never get used to how big he was. No matter how much he stretched her out, no matter if he brought her to her peak multiple times, her body would protest that she could not take such a thing when he entered her. Yet it always did.

"So bloody tight," he grunted, before he gave one last push that seemed to be the one that caused him to slip past the remaining resistant and into her velvety channel.

Panting loudly, she let out another watery moan that increased in volume as he finally pushed himself all the way inside her. Her cunt fluttered and squeezed around him as it got used to his size, and before she had time to calm her thumping heart, he pulled out before suddenly ramming back into her.

"Oh god!" [Y/n] sobbed, her back arched and her toes curled as a shock wave shot up her spine at how deep he had pushed himself into her. 

Arms going to wrap around his neck, she brought her husband closer as he began to thrust into her earnestly. Putting all his weight on her body as he moved his hips, he had trapped her beneath him as she writhed with pleasure easily finding the spot that had her insides trembling and her mind thinking of one thing.

"Richard," she pleaded, "yes yes yes, my love yes, please." Her words were incoherent and barely audible over the sound of his cock ravaging her aching cunt.

"Mmm, so warm, ugh, and tight," he growled near her ear causing her to whine and her insides to flutter around his cock. "So perfect for me do you know that my love," he praised as he pulled back to watch her with hooded eyes.

Their hips sat flush against one another each time he thrust in her with speed and force that a man who was twice his junior probably couldn't muster.

"Such a perfect wife thinking of how to keep her husband warm," he growled, as he watched her eyes roll in the back of her head, and listened to her whimpers become louder and louder as he felt her insides begin to spasm, signalling she was close. "Oh yes so perfect, ugh, with such a perfect body, and such a perfect cunt for her husband, " he praised even more, as he slipped a hand in between them to where they were joined just so that he could bask in the loud shriek that left her lips as he began to rub her clit.

She thrashed her head side to side like a woman mad, and her fingers gripped the sheets beneath her as he kept stroking her with both cock and fingers. The pleasure bloomed red hot in her veins and she felt that familiar tingle in her stomach that signaled she was close.

"That's it, there's my little wife," Richard growled, sensing her impending release and snapping his hips against hers relentlessly. His digits continued to rub messy circles against her at the same time causing incoherent noises and words to spill from her lips. "Come for your husband! Come for him so that he can spill his seed in your waiting womb. Be a good wife and let me put a babe in you [Y/n]!"

It was a mixture of his words, and thrusts that had her tumbling off the edge suddenly, and he followed with a loud grunt as her walls clamped down on him milking his aching cock for all its seed.

"Richard!" She sobbed, pulling him closer to her as she trembled from the shock of pleasure and feeling of his warmth spreading inside her.

His arms quickly went to wrap around his beloved as he grunted noisily in her ear while he filled her up. The soft pants and moans coming from him, caused her body to shiver at the deep sounds that buried itself into her bones as they laid spent from their activity.

They stayed in each other's arms, as Richard kissed her neck lazily, and she drew little circles against his neck. A sweet giggle would leave her lips from time to time when his stubble would rub her sensitive skin.

It wasn't until what felt like hours later, even though it was a few minutes, did someone speak.

"So," [Y/n] whispered as she raked her hand through her husband's grey locks. His usually stormy eyes, which were now clear, were trained on her as he raised an eyebrow at her. "Is my husband appeased with the activity that was suggested?"

"Mmm, I am very pleased," he purred, leaning down and kissing her lips passionately. She let out a noisy moan at his possessiveness and was breathless when he pulled away. "But," he started rolling his hips against hers causing her to moan as his cock dragged against her sensitive insides. "I fear my wife has made a mistake in thinking that spilling my seed once in her would rid my energy. No, I think we perhaps need to try it a few more times if you truly wish for me to relax darling."

"Oh no," she moaned as he began to thrust slowly biting her bottom lip. "I intend to make sure ah my husband has had his fill mmm and is thoroughly sated. What kind of wife would I be if I didn't?"

His eyes twinkled at her words before he slowly picked up the pace in what would be a long and pleasurable way to keep them warm as a blizzard began to rage outside.

A/N: hehe well i sure hope that warmed everyone up! Turpin is always a good choice for smut bc he is well..a horny man LOL.

Tag: @deepperplexity it's ur beloved Turpin!!

[screentones-webcomicresources]

do you have any advice for aspiring author-artists who already work full time (40 hrs per week) day jobs?

i straight up don’t have time for anything outside of work, taking care of my pets, general housekeeping, feeding myself, and sleep. i’d have to sacrifice time for one of those categories to do anything outside of them. and i frequently do sacrifice that time. usually sleep and housekeeping.

(i am looking for part-time work that would let me bring in the same amount of income per month, but i would have to sacrifice my current health care while im in the middle of trying to address my own medical needs)

Our work-life balance episode has some good thoughts we definitely recommend you check out, because we struggle with this too! It can be tough depending on your energy levels, and sometimes the answer really is to wait for a season of your life where things are less busy before you jump into a large comic project.

But it's still possible to make progress at your own pace. Here are some things that help us:

Keep something you can draw or take notes with on you when you have a bit of downtime in your day. You can use a notes app on your phone to document an idea or edit an outline when you have something come to you, or keep a sketchbook at your desk depending on your set up. Depending on your transit options, sometimes you can also draw on a bus or train.

Team up! If you have art friends in your neighborhood, consider starting or joining a club or meet up to draw after work (this also has the much-needed benefit of social time). You may also be able to hire art assistants to help with flatting or another part of your page-making process.

Reclaim some of your time if you can. Get someone else who wants to watch the animals once a month and go on a weekend art retreat to focus (large or just hanging out in a library or someplace where you can concentrate - going to be different for different people). You may find some other ways to simplify your daily routines or multitask to get some time back in your day for comic-making.

Set realistic expectations and don’t compare your results with someone who works on a comic full time. This may mean scaling back the scope of your story, simplifying the art style, or working at a slower schedule. However you make your comic, it still matters, and it should be an activity that brings you joy, not stress!

We wish you the best of luck!

[enden-k]

btw now that i can get to it (was busy and had someone over) i can babble a little abt zzz and give my thoughts so far on it if anyone is still wondering whether they should try it or not

first thing i have to say is, to me it feels like a cozy casual kinda game. and i love it. i think thats the part i saw some ppl complain abt

it reminds me a lot of P5 w the overall vibes etc (i played on first release years ago but not the additional stuff afterwards so idk if there were changes to the plot or anything with whatever royal is about) and it was a comfort game for me back then so yea. this might add a lot to why zzz feels like such a comfort game to me

the siblings are not active, playable characters in combat since theyre the proxy guiding and supporting the playable characters (agents) in the hollows (compare it to domains). outside of the hollows you run around with ur chosen sibling and whoever you picked, the other doesnt disappear or becomes irrelevant. they are a unit, run their video store together, theyre one proxy, supporting each other. i already love how trailblazer is more vocal than traveler but the siblings are active, talking parts in cutscenes and whenever theres dialogue choices, your chosen sibling ACTUALLY SAYS IT. this is smth i wished for a while in gnshn so seeing it in zzz made me super happy. it gives them sm life and gets me into it idk how to say it

(this is them btw. pretty mfs)

anw its not overwhelming like gnshn feels to me. gnshn has sm to explore and sm story and its smth i both enjoy and feel exhausted by. now, if you played persona or are familiar, its easier for me to use for comparison. you get to run around as the chosen sibling in the city but the fighting (w the agents you pull from the gacha) all happens in the hollows (similar to when you enter the metaverse). it runs with a day-night cycle and depending on the time, npcs and quests pop up. you can pass the time if you need a specific time of day for an objective, by doing hollow exploration or simply resting in ur room. theres side stuff you do, like running your store and visiting the arcade and play snake akjscbk

the combat itself reminds me of HI3 and wuwa and feels super smooth and fun to me

it has cutscenes etc but the story parts in between are illustrated and presented in a comic/storyboard kinda way? which fits the whole video/movie aesthetics well. its pretty cool

overall, if you didnt try it out yet bc you think it requires lots of energy and time like gnshn, its nothing like that at all. ofc im not through with everything but so far it feels like a very nice game to play casually, w a big cozy bonus when youre spending the day freely in game. i play only on pc or on console when i wanna lay down but this game even i would play on phone or ipad to chill akjscbk

the characters are also pretty fun and cool looking! like, look at them, so far we got

the most chaotic ragtag group in all of new eridu (they share one braincell and its anby who is in charge of it)

fresh looking heavy industry workers (they have a bear)

classic horror housekeeping service who will poison ur tea ig

motorcycle gang (oggling the glasses guy and boss lady super hard, they will be mine when playable-)

public security (they have an actual catboy in case weve got catboy enjoyers here)

special hollow operation elite squad aka the coolest strongest mfs out there taking care of hollow disasters

ALSO THE NPCS!!! LIKE!!! look at the cook!!! tinmaster running the coffee shop!!! the girl selling gadgets or the bunny person running the arcade!!!

even the regular npcs just roaming the streets. theres lots of cool details and life in every bit, its really cool

anw!! idk if this helped or made sense, this is also just my own impressions and feelings so far so yeee. if someone decides to play, i hope you will have fun and get whoever you really really want!!

[pipsqueakparker]

an inch away from more than just friends

Another night performance, another last minute message of "you're solo tonight, kid". Fizzarolli wants to understand why his best friend keeps bailing on their shows, what could be more important than the routines they've put so much work into? And why does he still feel this stab of disappointment at the thought of not being good enough for his friend anymore? Blitzo apologizes via stolen circus food, and an attempt to explain... something. New crush, high school love again The rush of slumber party kissing Don't touch, I'll never cross the line So I pushed you down a million times | rating: T, words: 2256 |

On AO3

It’s been a long day. 

Fizz’s body aches. His shoulders and hips are sore from the strain his routine puts on his joints, he can feel new calluses forming along the palms of his hands from the ropes. The last-minute solo routine didn’t help things and now the muscles in his legs are screaming for him to sit down, just stop moving for five minutes. 

That isn’t an option. 

Now that the show’s over, it’s time to take care of housekeeping. Clean the equipment, organize the props, clear the bleachers of any spilled and forgotten popcorn or juice or booze. He should make Blitzo clean the seats, he thinks, still feeling disgruntled and irritated at having to perform alone. Again. 

An older performer shoves a pair of gloves and a bucket of cleaning supplies into his hands as soon as he steps through one of the curtains. She’s older than him, he’s not sure how much, but he can tell that her time with the circus is coming to an end. She looks as haggard as he feels and some nights he lays awake thinking about what any of them are supposed to do after the circus, where she’ll go when her body won’t let her perform up to standards anymore. Where he’ll go when he inevitably reaches the same point. He's only just turned eighteen, but with the way he keeps pushing himself...

The woman gives him a soft smile as he takes the supplies, offers a quiet, “Great job tonight, Fizzarolli”, and then disappears into the crowd of imps skittering around trying to undress and clean as quickly as they can. The sooner they’re finished, the sooner they can all tuck away into their own little corners and call it a night. Fizz physically shakes the concern for his future out of his head, refocusing on the task at hand. 

Clean, then dinner, then sleep. 

He takes in the small group of imps in his immediate vicinity. None of them are Blitzo. He huffs out another annoyed breath, pushing away his concerns in favor of holding on to that anger. The anger, at least, fuels him with enough energy that he can put into completing his tasks. 

Fizz has just put away his last box of props — they’re technically Blitzo’s props, he noted, so he could be sure to hold that over the other imp’s head later — when he hears a quiet almost static-like sound from the corner of the room. He whips his head around just as one striped horn pokes through a hole in the side of the tent, followed by one familiar glowing eye. Blitzo makes the sound again.

“Psssssssstttt, Fizz,” Blitzo tries to whisper, but his voice is still loud in the post-show silence of the circus. Fizz glances toward the other end of the room, where a heavy curtain opens into a larger section. It’s quiet in here, but Fizz can hear the others starting to gather and do final checks. “Fizzzzzz.”

Blitzo’s voice gives way to a whine and when Fizz looks back the other imp has shoved his entire head through a hole he’s pretty sure they put there years ago, it just hasn’t been found and repaired yet. When they were younger, Blitzo thought it was important for them to have ‘trap doors’, in case they ever needed to escape in a hurry. Cash was not entertained when he found some of those ‘trap doors’, really just large slits in the fabric that led from Blitzo and Fizz’s shared dressing room out to the circus grounds. 

“What?” Fizz crosses his arms over his chest, trying very hard to show Blitzo that he’s still upset about today. Blitzo’s huge eyes stare back at him, blinking slowly, still outlined with some glitter from their stage makeup, and Fizz can feel his resolve crumble. Fuck. 

“C’mon, I got us dinner.” Blitzo jerks his head, motioning for Fizz to join him. Sneak away with him like he always does.  

“I’m still cleaning, Blitzo.” Fizz shoots him a glare but there’s no real heat behind it and they both know it. “You should be, too.”

“Ah, fuck that, someone else can scrub piss and cum off the seats. Come on.” 

“… Cum?” Is all Fizz can say in response, which makes Blitzo snort, which makes Fizz’s chest tighten and stomach flip and he’s slowly forgetting why he was mad to begin with when Blitzo laughs at the horrified expression on his face.

“People get freaky during your set, I don’t know.”

Right. That’s why. “You mean our set, that you keep bailing on.” 

Blitzo’s smile falters for only a moment before he’s rolling his eyes and holding his hand out for Fizz. “I swiped some burgers from your favorite stall.”

Fizz pauses. Narrows his eyes at Blitzo’s growing smirk. 

Twenty minutes later, he’s sprawled out across a cot with his head in Blitzo’s lap and two burgers in his stomach. He feels like dead weight at this point, his limbs finally getting the break they craved and the rest of his body weighed down by the greasy meal he’d basically inhaled. 

“You looked great out there tonight.” It’s the first thing Blitzo’s said since they climbed onto his worn down mattress and started devouring the bag of food he’d gotten them. Fizz blinks up at him, surprised. 

“You watched?” 

Blitzo crams a handful of fries into his mouth as he nods, not offering up anything more than that. Fizz watches him, notes the tension in his jaw and the way he won’t let his eyes drift anywhere near his face. Blitzo’s tail flicks against the cot next to him. Fizz lets out a soft sigh. 

“What’s the excuse tonight?” He finally asks, and he doesn’t miss the way Blitzo flinches. 

It feels like an eternity of silence before Blitzo finally speaks. “I wanted to be out there with you, Fizz…”

Fizz frowns, brows knit together in confusion. All he can think of are all of the times Blitzo has said the exact opposite, has given him excuse after excuse of why he wasn’t able to perform. From bloody noses to sprained tails, he’s heard it all at this point, and they always sounded fake as fuck but this… there was an edge to Blitzo’s voice that Fizz wasn’t used to. It wasn’t light and airy and full of false confidence, it was just… raw. Honest. 

“Why weren’t you?” Fizz finally asks, sits up and pulls himself to his knees so he can face Blitzo properly. 

Blitzo swallows, eyes darting to the edges of the room. It’s not like they’re in a real house, or a building at all. They’re in the family quarters now, what they call the cluster of haphazardly constructed tents at the edge of the grounds where everyone has a pallet or a cot to sleep on and where they keep whatever personal belongings they have. It’s the only area closed off to the public, but it’s still nothing more than a maze of alcoves that act as rooms, the thick red fabric walls granting nothing more than an illusion of privacy. Most people are probably still in the main performance tent, that’s where they typically have family dinner after everyone’s finished cleaning. 

Even so, Blitzo’s voice is hushed, quieter than Fizz has ever heard him. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.” 

That makes Fizz frown harder, if possible, and lean in even closer. Blitzo’s eyes are wet, the corner of his mouth twitching down. Whatever frustration he’d felt earlier has melted away completely , all of the concern he’d pushed down finally wrenching its way back up. 

Fizz presses into Blitzo’s side, wrapping his arms around the other imp’s shoulders and letting Blitzo bury his face in his neck. It’s an easy movement, over the years they’ve discovered exactly how to fit their bodies together like a puzzle. Blitzo lets himself melt into Fizz’s embrace, his tail instinctively coiling around Fizz’s ankle and Fizz mimics the action with his own tail around Blitzo’s calf. Grounding him with the pressure of his hug, with the squeeze of his tail, with fingers curled gently around one horn. 

When Blitzo finally speaks again his voice is hoarse. “He says you’re the better performer, anyway, and I’ve got… other things...” 

Blitzo doesn’t elaborate. Fizz keeps holding him. 

Until Blitzo finally leans back, wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Sorry for leaving you hanging. Again.”

Fizz takes Blitzo’s hand in his, squeezing as he finds Blitzo’s eyes again. He’s just about to say something, lips parting to share his next thought, when Blitzo tugs at his arm and suddenly his mouth is preoccupied because Blitzo’s mouth is on his. 

Before he can even process, Blitzo snaps his head back with a gasp and a swear. “Shit. Shitshit - Fizz, I - I’m - ”

Fizz, still leaning into Blitzo’s space after being jerked closer, blinks. Holds a hand up, covering Blitzo’s mouth, encouraging him to just shut the fuck up for a second. 

“What,” Fizz starts slowly, “was that?”

“A… kiss?” Blitzo’s words are slightly muffled by Fizz’s hand. Fizz drops his hand and sets Blitzo with the most suffering glare he has ever managed. 

“Yes, a kiss — I mean, why?” Fizz’s mouth is dry as he asks it, his stomach tumbling over itself. Of all the times he’d imagined kissing Blitzo, this exact moment hadn’t made it to his list. It would now, of course, but he’d never truly expected Blitzo to kiss him first. 

“I — I shouldn’t have, Fizz, I’m —”

Fizz shakes his head, squeezes his tail where it’s still wrapped around Blitzo’s calf. 

Stay with me.

“No one said that, just… why, Blitzo?”

Blitzo scrubs a hand across his face in frustration, but the spade of his tail presses into Fizz’s leg. “The fuck do you mean why, Fizz?” That’s starting to sound more like the Blitzo he knows. “Because I wanted to, obviously.” 

“Then why did you stop?” 

Fizz isn’t used to being the one to render someone speechless, let alone Blitzo. Blitzo always has a snappy response or a snide remark, but now Fizz watches his jaw work as he continuously falls short of any actual words. 

Finally, after an excruciating thirty seconds, Blitzo says, “I… didn’t know… you… wanted to…” 

Obviously full, coherent sentences aren’t in the cards for Blitzo tonight. 

Normally, Fizz would want to talk about this. Something is shifting here, and he’s not sure what, and there’s still something bigger that Blitzo isn’t telling him — something that someone, Fizz assumes Cash, doesn’t want Blitzo to talk about. 

Those are all important things which should probably be addressed before Fizz goes around kissing his best friend all willy nilly. 

However, now Fizz has had the taste of Blitzo’s lips on his and there is a significantly stronger part of his brain that just wants to focus on that. So he does. 

He puts Blitzo out of his stuttering, bumbling misery and focuses on the way their lips slot together just as well as their bodies had moments before. They fold back into each other now, just as easily as before, only with this new point of connection taken into account. 

Blitzo falls onto his back, letting Fizz press him into the mattress with the softest squeak of springs. Fizz’s hand moves from its previous place on Blitzo’s horn to cup the back of his head, nails scratching at the base of the spikes there and drawing a whine out of Blitzo’s throat. Fizz takes the opportunity when Blitzo’s lips fall open to snake his tongue in, earning another needy sound from the imp that makes heat flood across Fizz’s cheeks and rush right down to his core. 

Fizz tries not to think about how Blitzo has more experience in this area than him, tries not to worry about whether he’s doing this right or if there’s even a right way necessarily. 

Blitzo’s hands are on his hips, fingers digging into the flesh there as Fizz slowly gains confidence, which leads to much more enthusiasm. It’s not until Fizz bites his bottom lip that Blitzo finally pulls away, using his hands on Fizz’s hips to create some space between them. 

“We should,” Blitz is panting, cheeks flushed. “We should… slow down… or we’re gonna have a different mess to clean up…” 

Fizz’s eyes go wide as he notices, finally, the pressure against his thigh. Oh, fuck. 

He shifts, putting more space between their bodies by rolling onto his side next to Blitzo. 

It’s getting late and Fizz’s whole body is feeling it. The food and the concern over Blitzo was enough to keep his energy up for the past hour or so but now he was on the other side of that high. The crash. Blitzo must be feeling it, too, because he doesn’t move or say anything more.

There’s shuffling from other parts of the tent, muffled voices moving past, heavy footsteps and loud yawns as the rest of their circus family finally makes their way to bed. The risk of being overheard is real now, not the time to talk about any of this… so they don’t.

Once he’s deemed it safe to touch Blitzo again, Fizz snakes his arm around the other teen’s waist and tucks his head under his chin. Blitzo rubs his cheek against Fizz’s forehead, brings one arm around Fizz’s shoulders and turns into him. 

It’s been a long day, and this is what Fizz’s body has been aching for. 

[the-witchy-housewife]

｡+*✧ 5 Witchy Ways To Make Your Home More Magickal ✧*+｡

This is an article from my website, The Witchy Housewife. You can read it at the source here or look under the cut to read it here on Tumblr. If you enjoy my work, please consider subscribing (at the bottom of this page) to receive articles as they're posted via e-mail, exploring the shop, leaving a tip, or reblogging this post. I run this all myself, so all support is greatly appreciated. 💜🔮✨

Most practicing witches, whether just starting out or involved for decades, have carved out a sacred space for themselves. It is rare, however, that I see that same level of attention given to the rest of the home. In doing so, we risk the stagnation of energies in just about every other room of the house and miss out on this beautiful flow dancing about room to room. Today, I would like to share five simple ways to make your entire home a more magickal place to live in.

1. Regularly cleanse, bless, and ward.

It is so important – both for the success of workings and the overall energetic wellbeing of the household – to have a regular routine of cleansing the home, refilling it with positive energies, and charging the wards that surround it. This habit breaks up energetic stagnation, deters lingering negative energies, and promotes a sacred feeling of warmth that permeates throughout the entire home. In addition, I think you will find that this sort of energetic housekeeping will improve the results of any future magickal workings performed within it. Not to mention, making a habit out of any sort of magickal working – cleansings included – will naturally “exercise” and improve your own magickal abilities overall.

For those new to the ideas of cleansing, blessing, and warding, this is how I generally define it: To cleanse is to rid a person, place, or thing (in this case, the home) of stagnant, unwanted, draining, counterproductive, or otherwise negative energies. After a cleansing is performed, a blessing may follow. In my opinion, blessing a space with more productive energies serves two purposes: To set the tone for desired future outcomes and to further deter negative energies from re-entering the space. With that said, to bless – again, as I define it – is to invite in and refill the recently-cleansed person, place, or thing with fresh, positive, intentional energies. And finally, to ward is to create an energetic protective barrier around the person, place, or thing as a more passive and longer-lasting preventative measure. Some people may also refer to this as bubbling or shielding, though different people may have different definitions for each.

Now personally, there are different cleansing rituals I use for different circumstances, but my most often used rituals take place monthly or as-needed when energies get too muddied.

My Monthly Cleansing Ritual: I perform this ritual on the first of each month. Any cleansing tools to be charged on the altar should be set at least a day before performing the cleansing. The morning of, weather permitting, open windows and play uplifting music or cleansing affirmations, frequencies, or subliminals of choice. Take a cleansing shower. Clean the home as you normally would. When physical cleaning is complete, use a smoke or spray cleansing blend of choice, walking with intention from room-to-room. Pay special mind to corners and doorways. I like to use sound cleansing – bells, drums, or even snapping your fingers will do – in these spaces to really ensure the breaking up of any “stuck” energies. If you are someone who performs banishing rituals, you may choose to do so now. At this point, I also take a moment to cleanse myself, particularly as an empath. I then tend to my wards by first taking a blessed salt blend around the perimeter of the property, followed by sitting at the center of the property and funneling my own energy into the ward. If you would prefer to instead bless first and ward after, feel free to do so. It is your ritual, after all. Regardless of which order you perform the ritual in, the blessing process may be a deeply personal one, so this is a step I suggest thinking on a bit rather than following to the letter. In my ritual, I use a spray with positive energy-promoting herbs (as well as herbs that may promote the intention I wish to set for the month) and follow up with prayer to my deities. If you’re interested in a more in-depth look at my Monthly Cleansing Ritual, I do have detailed instructions available on my Monthly Blessings Patreon.

My As-Needed Cleansing Ritual: This is essentially a truncated version of my monthly ritual. If the energies are something I’ve tracked in or absorbed too much of, I will take a cleansing shower first. Following this, perform your usual smoke or spray cleansing, focusing especially on any room(s) that may be the most abundant in the energy that brought about this need for an emergency cleanse. You may also like to perform a shorter version of your regular blessing ritual. Unless the situation is really dire, I will generally stick to my spray in this case.

In regards to the physical cleaning portion of this, I do have to recommend Grove Collaborative for cultivating a more natural-based cleaning cabinet. In the future, I’ll be looking into more do-it-yourself methods for cleaning essentials, as is part of the focus of this blog, but in the meantime – and for anything that may be too tedious to make – I really do love Grove.

And one final thought on the cleansing process before we move on: If nothing else, it would at least be worth it to regularly cleanse yourself. I’m afraid your floors (and your home overall) will never be clean if you are consistently tracking in the (energetic) mud.

2. Arrange altars around the home.

To some, an altar may just be some simple magickal workspace, but I tend to view an altar as a sort of energetic nexus – a point of focus in (or out of) the home enchanted with a specific intention. Having a variety of these energetic points all across the home can promote different energies in different places and act as a sort of battery for the mood you wish to set in any room you wish to set it. Here are just a few ideas for altars around your home:

• The Shrine Altar: A space dressed with statuary, artwork, trinkets, and offerings honoring the deity or deities you are devoted to in your practice. This is your place of divine worship.

• The Working Altar: A space with all the tools and dressings to make magick happen. This, combined with a Shrine, is what most people traditionally think of when referring to an altar.

• The Divination Altar: A space with all the tools and dressings for divination, spirit communication, and other sorts of communion that take place beyond the veil. You may wish to set aside a space here for your spirit guides and teachers to provide their own guidance.

• The Ancestor Altar: A space for maintaining connection with your ancestors. When decorating and leaving offerings, keep in mind the things that your ancestors would enjoy.

• The Protection Altar: A space for gathering protective energies to keep yourself, your loved ones, and your home safe from harm. Think of it as a battery specifically for your wards.

• The Hearth Altar: A space for inviting warm, positive energies into the home and transmuting any negative energies that may enter. Even better if you can get your family involved.

• The Prosperity Altar: A space for inviting wealth, prosperity, and abundance into the home. Similarly to the Hearth Altar, It’s a good idea to have this altar face the front door to act as a “greeter” to these energies, and you may even choose to combine them.

• The Creativity Altar: A space for encouraging a steady flow of inspiration. This is ideal if you have any sort of creative pursuits and/or are subject to frequent creative blockages.

• The Study Altar: A space for encouraging focus and memory retention. Perfect for a library or an office where lots of learning takes place. Rosemary would be an excellent addition here.

• The Garden Altar: A space in your garden for promoting the growth of your plants and bonding with the fae and genius loci native to your area.

3. Celebrate with the changing seasons.

When I was younger, much of the year was quite boring to me, and I found myself always pining for Hallowthanksmas to roll back around before returning yet again to “business as usual” come January 1st. I think an unfortunate amount of people operate this way, as well. It was only when I started observing and appreciating the year in full that my life turned around in a big way, and I began to realize there is always something to look forward to.

Whether this means celebrating the sabbats, the seasonal shifts, or your own set of scattered observations – you can make holiday magick a year-round experience just by opening your eyes to Gaia’s natural cycles. In addition, I think you’ll find that matching the energetic ebb and flow of the Earth will serve to optimize your success with spellwork overall. Very simply:

During the spring… New beginnings are abundant. Appreciate the budding flowers, the baby animals, and the fresh spring air. Start new projects and/or take on new endeavors.

During the summer… Passions are at their highest. Host bonfires and barbecues and let yourself live life. Soak up the energy of the sun and transmute it into raw motivation.

During the autumn… Our efforts may be harvested. Bathe in gratitude for the abundance of this beautiful planet. Review and appreciate all that you have done for yourself.

During the winter… The world is at rest. The cold decelerates the very flow of time. Take a much-needed break, and plan to return or renew come the first signs of spring.

Consider also bringing the outdoors in – particularly during the colder months when it is too difficult to spend a significant amount of time outside. Foraging with the local flora in your area and using your findings for food, medicine, and decor is an excellent way to become familiar with the cycle of the seasons as it functions in your very own neighborhood.

4. Ritualize your everyday routines.

We often don’t realize just how many rituals we perform each and every day – repetitive, but necessary, processes that lull us into a meditative state. There is opportunity here. In our day-to-day life, there are so many little pockets within our routines to tuck intention and purpose into. And why shouldn’t we? Here are just a few suggestions for enchanting your daily routine:

In the Morning: Do affirmation work upon waking or in the mirror. Alternatively, listen to affirmations or subliminal audio on your ride to work or while getting ready in the morning. Incorporate color and shape magick into your wardrobe – including any accessories, makeup, or nail care that you may do.

Throughout the Day: Enhance your meals with carefully chosen herbs to improve wellbeing or attract specific energies. After workouts, take a moment to meditate on advancing muscular growth or expelling fat from troublesome areas. Use showers as mini cleansing rituals or put oils/herbs in a bath to attract energies.

During the Night: Do affirmation work just before falling asleep. Keep a small (non-fragile) stone under your pillow to regularly fill with energies of gratitude. Set an intention for your dreams. Keep a dream sachet under your pillow to help with achieving lucidity. Diffuse oil for a specific intention to set the tone for your dreams or even to set the tone for the next day.

However you spend your days, consider altering your home’s decor room-by-room to cultivate a specific tone and energy depending on the daily rituals you perform there.

5. Build a garden you can bond with.

One of the things I love most about being a witch is the awareness that magick really is all around us. In my opinion, cultivating a garden is the best way to go about experiencing this, and it offers so much versatility. On a very basic level, a garden offers a wide variety of personally-selected plants that can be used for cooking, medicine, magick, decor, aroma, and so much more. On a deeper level, a garden offers the space to get to know the spirits of these plants as they thrive and flourish prior to receiving their gifts – and this, in turn, will improve upon many of your more subtle spiritual abilities.

And for those of you who don’t have much of a yard to work with at this time, keep in mind that plants in any pot – that require any amount of sun and attention – are still living beings. Lavender, for example, is one commonly-used plant in the craft that can be grown indoors.

Pinterest, for the record, is a great place to collect gardening information tailored to your tastes (among other things like recipes and crafting tutorials). And for the more daring, you may choose to expand your horizons by looking into things like food forests or guerrilla gardening (bonus points if it yields something edible).

Regardless of what endeavors you decide to take on, darling, I wish you the best of luck in making your home, your community, and your life more magickal. Many blessings to you.