#obsidian is done and said it's time out for you

[room-surprise]

A great post, I see someone else said this in a comment, but in English this eye color would most often be referred to as "hazel."

"Hazel eyes often appear to shift in color from a brown to a green. Although hazel mostly consists of brown and green, the dominant color in the eye can either be brown/gold or green. This is why hazel eyes can be mistaken as amber, and why amber is often counted as hazel in studies, and vice versa."

Hazel eyes are not as rare as amber eyes, and they are common in the part of the real world that the Touden village seems to be inspired by.

Hazel eyes are found in Europe, most commonly in the Netherlands and the United Kingdom, and have also been observed to be very common among the Low Saxon-speaking populations of northern Germany.

As @dunmeshistash mentioned, most characters in Dungeon Meshi have natural eye, hair and skin colors, and most of them have natural color combinations as well.

Because of this, since there's no mention of the Toudens having unusual looking eyes in the manga or extra materials, I assume this means their eye color isn't considered extraordinary to the other characters - so I'd personally call it hazel rather than amber.

When something about a character's appearance is unusual, Kui tells us. For example, Kabru's blue eyes causing him to be ostracized in Utaya as a baby, Mithrun's family valuing silver hair and eyes, Mithrun's black eyes being unusual for an elf, and Flamela and the Queen's black skin, red eyes and silver hair being considered valuable to the elves.

The only exceptions to Kui using "natural" color combinations in Dungeon Meshi are Kabru, whose combination of traits is a reference to the real world belief in the evil eye, and the elves... Who do not seem to operate with the same "rules" that real world people do.

Normally in real life, darker skinned people tend to have dark hair and dark eyes, because these traits are dominant.

Kui goes out of her way to show us that dark-skinned elves (Cithis, Thistle, Flamela, the Queen) have naturally light hair: they have light eyelashes, which they sometimes cover with dark makeup. In the real world, eyelashes cannot be bleached, and if the elves were using magic to bleach their eyelashes, why would they then put dark makeup on top of it?

The only dark-haired elves we see are fictional imaginings of half-elves, and one unknown elven hunter who works in the dungeon on the island. This elf's ears look pretty round, like Marcille's, and they're working in the dungeon, something which is socially repugnant and mostly done by desperate people... So they're probably a half-elf who isn't able to find better work anywhere else.

So I think it's safe to assume that light hair and light eyes are dominant genetic traits among the elves, while dark hair and eyes are recessive, and only happen on rare occasions.

(I think elves with naturally dark hair and eyes must happen sometimes, because Kabru only comments that Mithrun's eyes are unusual, not that they're impossible.)

Elves are often referred to in mythology as "fair" or other related words, which historically meant beautiful, pleasant, nice or good. Over time "fair" has come to instead mean light colored skin and hair, and so pop culture often makes elves light-skinned with light hair.

I think Kui most likely decided to give all of her elves light hair and eyes because of this... They are "the fair people" but their skin color comes in a wide, natural range, and they prefer darker skin with lighter hair and eyes.

And I haven't had time to fully confirm this, but based on translations, it seems to me that Kui purposefully uses color words for elven bodies that are not normally used for living things. Elven hair and eyes are gold or silver (not blonde or gray), Flamela and the Queen's skin is obsidian (not black or brown).

We don't have enough information to say for sure, but if you follow this pattern, it would make sense for Mithrun's pale skin to be called alabaster instead of white, and Cithis might be called bronze instead of brown. This is speculation though.

We also know that elven skin is different from the other races: it is more resistant to damage, has smaller pores and doesn't wrinkle easily.

I think it makes logical sense that elven hair and eyes might also be different as well. Kui has to simplify the colors she uses when she does color art, but the contextual evidence suggests that elven hair, eyes and skin may have a unique quality that characters in-universe can see, even if it isn't obvious in the artwork.

My guess is that they all look a bit like airbrushed models in advertisements who seem "too perfect to be real." Hair in shampoo commercials vs people's hair in real life. Again, this is only speculation.

Hello! I thought Laios's eyes were just very light brown cuz in my reading experience yellow/golden eyes were a sign of a werewolf. Or that your (grand)parent was a god/dragon/fairy/vampire etc. Or a wolf cursed into human form by an evil witch (this one's pretty cliché now, and rarely used). But Laios and Falin are perfectly normal tallman, and tallman are just like real life humans I believe. I guess I thought unusual eyes colors meant unusual people?

Not all fantasy worlds work the same, in Dungeon Meshi some characters have really unusual eyes but it doesn't mean anything about them being special or not.

If anything there's a type of unfounded meaning given by the certain traits like eyes and hair color by the in world culture, but that are merely visual (looks different but aren't associated with anything else as far as we know) like the silver eyes and hair that's expected from Mithrun's family and the obsidian skin and red eyes that are traits of royalty, both are visually unique but don't make them any different from other people, so much so that Mithrun is a bastard with his family desired traits while his brother is a legitimate son without the traits.

There's also Kabru's eyes that caused his family to fall apart even tho it was also based on meaning given to it .

I think it fits with Kui's storytelling and worldbuilding that minor physical characteristics don't really mean much more than the meaning we give them.

I think eye color, pupil or no pupil, shine or no shine etc etc is more a character design choice Kui makes to better express what kind of characters they are (where they're from, like Eastern archipelago people having dark eyes, what race they are with elves having the more striking/detailed pupils, their personality etc etc)

Kui might have an artstyle that's less "Animu" than what some might be used to but it is still in that style, in animanga eyes are a pretty common way to express what kind of person the character should be perceived as at a glance, that's why the eyes are often so big. So the golden eyes in Falin and Laios are probably so we recognize them as main characters and so we recognize them as siblings

Hope this made some sense let me know if I got anything wrong or said something that doesn't sound right

[crew7811-b]

Someone said this post reminded them of Lemon and Obsidian and I had to do it

[thestuffedalligator]

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin. They both looked down at the crumpled shape of the Overlord, His Unholy Majesty, in his obsidian armor.

His final spasms had been mesmerizingly acrobatic. The fall down the steps leading up to his iron throne had pretzelled his body quite impressively, both arms folded behind his back and one leg bent at a jaunty angle.

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.

"Shit," said the goblin.

"Shit," said the orc.

"We're likely to get blamed for this," the goblin said. She walked over to the head of the glittering mangled heap and started pulling the helmet off.

"It's not our fault," the orc said. "It's hard to help someone choking when they wear two-hundred pounds of spiked armor at all times."

"Yeah, well," the goblin grunted. The helmet came free, and the bald head of the Overlord bounced on the stone with a hollow, coconut noise. "You know how it is in this bloody country - thieves get their heads cut off so they can't think about thieving, and all that." She fished in the Overlord's mouth with a finger and pulled out the obstructing olive on the end of her claw.

She popped it into her mouth and chewed. "What do you reckon they do for a regicide?" she said.

"We should run," the orc said. She had started bouncing her leg. "I hear that there's some places in the Alliance where they just kill you and let you stay dead. That's got to be nicer than what'll happen if we stay here."

The goblin started to nod - and then her gaze fell on the helmet.

It looked like a pineapple designed by a deranged blacksmith. It was all thorns and spikes and hard edges, as though the maker had been very determined to not let pigeons roost on it. The only bits that weren't solid iron were eyeholes. Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face.

She held up the helmet and squinted from it to the orc. One of the thorns had been bent badly in the fall.

Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face...

"Right," she muttered. "Right. Could work - or."

The orc had a sudden vision of the immediate future. "No," she said.

"I mean you're about his height-"

"No."

"It would just be for a-"

"Absolutely not."

"Just hear me out," the goblin said. "Outside of this room are two-thousand men and orcs and goblins who are absolutely gonzo about this man, and there's a whole country of them outside of the castle, and at any moment someone's going to walk in that door and see one dead tit in black armor and two unbelievably dead idiots next to him.

"Or." She tossed the helmet up like a basketball to the orc, who fumbled and tried to find somewhere to hold it that wasn't a knife's edge. "We chuck him out the window now, walk out the door in the armor, and ditch the armor as soon as nobody sees us."

The orc had started bouncing her leg again. "They'll know something's up the second I walk out of the room."

"No worries," said the goblin. "Leave that to me."

---

It had been a very strange year for the Empire.

Change had rolled across the land as slow and inevitable as a glacier. Roads and bridges carved the gray, blasted wildlands, and a number of social reforms had made the country a place where you could be miserable, yes, but miserable in comfort and safety, and that was an improvement.

Barely anyone got boiled alive in molten metal, and even if the disgusted sun never rose to light the Empire, at least you had a roof over your head to protect yourself from the acid rain.

"Your empire flourishes, Your Unholy Majesty," the magician said over her wine glass. She looked down from the tower's balcony over the gleaming stone battlements. Some work had been done to line the castle and surrounding city with sizzling, crackling alchemical lights at night. The whole thing glowed like something dangerously radioactive.

The suit of armor waved a languid, glittering gauntlet over to the goblin, who bowed.

"His Abominable Gloriousness Thanks You," the goblin recited. "The Prosperity Of His Empire Can Only Be Achieved Through The Prosperity Of His People."

"If I may be so bold, I am quite pleased that you had chosen to take my counsel under consideration," said the magician. "We have accomplished many things together."

Another wave. Another bow. "The Overlord, May His Presence Swallow The Sun And Stars, Thanks You As Well."

"It was quite gratifying to see you change your mind, after so many centuries of denial." The wine was swirled. "Tell me, what was it that finally gave you cause to listen to me?"

There was the slightest hesitation. The goblin's eyes flicked to the armor, then to the magician. She puffed out her chest. "Do you question the wisdom of His Austere Lugubriousness?" she asked.

The magician looked at the goblin. She looked at the armor. She tipped her head back and drank the wine too quickly.

She looked back at the armor. "I know you're the orc, you moron," she said.

The room went deathly still. An alchemical light fizzled.

The orc pulled off the helmet, sending long, untied hair down tangling, and said: "How could you possibly-"

"Because you're both idiots!" the magician said. The goblin jumped. The orc jumped with a noise like a dropped stove. "What kind of a plan was this?! If it wasn't for me, you would have been turned into fertilizer months ago."

She closed her eyes. She took a long, dramatic breath. She set the wine glass down on the balcony rail.

"How did the Overlord die?" she asked when she seemed like she had gotten a hold over herself.

"Choked on an olive," said the goblin.

"Threw his body out the window," said the orc.

"You don't have to mention the window," said the goblin.

"Right," said the orc. "Sorry."

The magician looked out over the city, hand curled thoughtfully under her nose. "Who knows about this?"

"Just us. And, uh. You. Apparently."

"And why did you accept my counsel?"

The orc blinked. "Sorry?"

"Why did you accept my counsel?" the magician repeated.

"Well," the orc said. "Well - you seemed like you had good ideas-"

"Great ideas!" the goblin said with an edge of desperation. "Don't know why the old bastard didn't listen to you!"

"Right - right," said the orc. "And when we figured we were stuck doing this - well, it just made sense, really."

The magician seemed to absorb this. She nodded. "All right," she said, striding between the two and grabbing the crystal decanter.

"Um," said the orc. "Sorry. What happens now?"

"What happens is that you two will continue to serve as Overlord," said the magician. "You will continue to take my counsel. We will continue to reform this bloody country, and gods willing, we will turn it into the crown jewel of the world by next Midwinter."

The orc looked at the goblin. The goblin looked at the orc.

"Really?" the goblin asked.

"Oh yes," said the magician. "I've worked hard to be counsel to the Overlord, and I have no reason to stop now. And besides-"

She looked the orc up and down with a deliberate slowness, poring over every microscopic detail, eyes tracing over every jagged line, and grinned like a panther.

"You look much better in the armor than he ever did," she said. Dark robes swirled like a becleavaged thundercloud, and she strode out through the high iron doors, decanter in hand.

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.

"Shit," said the goblin.

"Shit," said the orc.

[radiance1]

"I need to find my darling husband!" Said Danny, dressed to the nines in a very elaborate royal dress with a lot of jewelry running through the ballroom after having been on the opposite end of a very worrying phone call.

"Seriously, what do you even see in that mortal!?" Screamed an observant and Danny stopped and leveled them with a glare cold enough to freeze over an active volcano and sharp enough to cut through obsidian.

"He makes me laugh."

Unlike those dead suitors went unsaid, but everyone at the ball (read: search for a bride/groom for the royal ghostling) practically heard it anyways.

Meanwhile over in the land of the living

Okay so Jason may have messed up. Now you see, he hasn't seen his platonic husband for tax benefits in a while, and he's been very careful to not let his identity as the Red Hood slip up before . Not even once in their relationship.

(He's not counting the time his in-laws sniffed him out as a Crime Lord, because Danny never believed them.)

Now, it wasn't exactly his fault he slipped up. You try to fight off an entire group after being pulled up on out of nowhere on the phone while trying to hide said noises of fighting.

Who was he calling? Danny of course since he said he was away for business. What business? Never specified and Jason wasn't going to pry.

So now here he was, bound 'helplessly' as Jason Todd along with a few other random civilians. Which, like, rude.

Wasn't he already good enough for this ancient ritual or whatever?

You know, he really should have walked with that "Anti-kidnapping device" he got that one time. Which honestly he feels like he should be surprised that such a thing exists but considering it was from Bruce. Well.

He's not surprised.

Oh, there's the Justice League now. Shame, he wanted to knock out a few guys himself- Oh, now he's being used to summon a ghost from the Infinite Realms of Royal Lineage.

Yea he probably should have walked with that "Anti-kidnapping device."

Wait a goddamn-

Is that-

"My darling husband!" Danny shouted, scooping him off the circle and away from the head cultist and swinging him around. "You had me worried sick!"

Now, he should ask the question anyone would in this situation when finding out your best friend and platonic husband for tax benefits was apparently a ghost of royal lineage.

"Why're you in a dress?"

"Okay, first of all I rock this thing." Danny huffed.

"That you do." Jason agreed rather easily.

"Second of all, blame those guys over there." He jerked his head in the direction of two very green floating eyeball people.

Not the weirdest he's seen, honestly.

The Observants were whispering to each other and leveling them-Jason in particular-a look.

"Now as you can see, I already have a spouse and I don't need another!" Danny hugged Jason closer for emphasis and he took the time to whisper in Danny's ear. "Did you really marry me to play the husband card?"

"Well, yes." Danny agreed. "But also because of taxes, because I love you and you're my best friend."

"So, we're still done for watching that movie right."

"Obviously."

A pained grunt came from below them and they both looked down to see Batman standing over a very unconscious cultist and looking up at them.

Hm.

He forgot they were there.

"So," Jason began, staring Bruce straight in the eyes. Batman's eyes narrowed. "Don't suppose we can push that forward to right now?"

"Yea, sure why not I'm not doing anything important." Danny leveled the Observants a look, and before either they, Batman, or the Justice League could do anything they both disappeared.

[jarofstyles]

3:33

Helloooo and happy spooky season. I finally have something scary-ish to put up for you guys

This is a Demon!H fic, which means he is not following all the same morals as most humans have. He is manipulative and kinda fucked in the head but he is obsessed with Y/N.

Check out our Patreon for early access and 200+ exclusive writings

WC- 6k

Warnings- demon!H, manipulation, allusions to stalking behavior, supernatural elements, spitting, smut, unprotected sex, creampie, cum play, choking, impact play (spanking), slight corruption vibes, selling your soul, etc etc etc

She sat in the dark, waiting for him.

He came every night. It was like clockwork, time ticking away with each beat of the moving hands, little ticks thrumming louder until it matched her pulse. Sitting under the fluffy duvet, she felt the familiar fear trickling down her spine- but the excitement was beginning to outshine the cool flush that he originally brought in.

As humiliating as it may be to admit to anyone else, she chose the babydoll she dressed her body in for him. A soft satin with lace cups to caress her breasts, a creamy color complimenting her deeply. Her cheeks felt hot as she sat with her legs criss crossed, fiddling with the hair tossed over her shoulder as her eyes looked towards the clock.

3:32. It was almost time. One minute.

The first time he had come, she had tried to scream but he took that ability from her. The man wasn’t human. His eyes devoid of color, his smile haunting but beautiful, she had frozen as she laid in her bed with sweat trickling down her neck and tears lacing her waterline. And all he’d done was caress her cheek. Laugh at her. Tell her he’d come back next time, and when he did, she shouldn’t be so loud- screeching annoyed him. 

So she did.

Harry. Harry. Harry. That was his name. He’d known hers, but he didn’t tell her how. He was a demon, he said. He knew all he wanted to know about her. He was always watching.

3:33. Her spine stiffened as she felt the room heat up significantly as the door to her closet moved.

 He was here.

Harry stepped out of the shadows, his form shimmering into sight with an almost unnoticeable ripple. His eyes were on her, watching as her breath hitched and her hands tightened on the soft fabric of the blankets. She looked good, dressed up like that. So innocent, so pure. Such a pretty thing for a human. It’s what drew him to her, the poor thing. Such an unfortunate curse for a human, to capture the unwavering attention of a demonic man. Her kindness, her weakness for all things soft and small. She was a good person, and had a good heart. And it only served to make him want to dirty her up. Take all of that for himself.

He approached the bed, his steps silent as he stalked towards her like a predator. His eyes never left hers, watching as her pupils dilated with fear and something else. Excitement. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath hitching each time he took a step closer. He could see the pulse in her neck fluttering wildly, and he felt an almost irresistible urge to lean down and sink his teeth into her flesh. To mark her.

His fingers curled around the footboard of her bed, knuckles turning white as he fought to control himself. His nails, sharp and black like obsidian, dug into the wood, leaving deep marks as he dragged them down. His own chest heaved, the white dress shirt unbuttoned to reveal his pale, muscled chest. Each breath pulled the fabric taut.

It was silent between them for a moment. Just observation. Monster and human, watching one another in curiosity. He felt increasingly drawn to the woman by the day, and she found herself wishing for his presence at night. Getting restless until he came to her. Just as he’d hoped. This time, though, he let her be the one to break the silence.

“Hi.” She whispered, licking her dry lip as her hands fisted the duvet in her lap. What more could be said in the moment? He usually led the conversation, he was the one who seemed to know more about her, but the interest of her own had been raised. Building day by day, bubbling under her skin.

Harry’s lips twitched as he watched her. His eyes flickered down to her lips, watching as her pink tongue darted out to lick the plump bottom one. He could see her pulse fluttering in her neck, the delicate hollow of her throat bobbing as she swallowed nervously. Her fear was so delicious. The most pure sort of fear, one he wanted to have on tap.

“Hello, Angel.” He finally responded, his voice like velvet. A deep, rich rumble that seemed to reverberate through the very room itself. His tongue darted out, licking over his teeth as he watched her. “I do like the outfit choice. Very much.” His eyes roamed down the length of her, appreciating the way the lace cups held her breasts. “A little too much, if I’m being honest. Did you pick it for me?”

Y/N knew she couldn’t lie to him. She didn’t have much of a choice. It was impossible to, not when he was around- and she had tried. He’d managed to undo a lot of layers in her.

“Yes.” She confirmed with a nod. “I-I… I’m not positive why.” It was the truth, too. Her mind was slightly confused. She knew she was attracted to him, that she had come to find him to haunt her dreams in the most filthy and inappropriate way when she went to sleep, but she wasn’t the most outgoing when it came to being seductive. and certainly not with a man who wasn’t human. She had no idea what indulging what got herself into, and yet she felt the overwhelming pull to do so.

Harry grinned wide, his teeth sharp as he stepped closer to her on the bed. “Oh, I think you know. You’re just a little afraid to admit it to yourself, that’s all.” His hand came up, long fingers curling around her chin as he tilted her head back to look up at him. “You’re attracted to me, Angel. You want me.” His thumb brushed over her bottom lip, pushing gently until her mouth parted slightly. “Say it.”

His eyes bore into hers, unblinking and intense. His touch was firm. Unyielding. He wouldn’t back down until she gave him what he wanted. His thumb pushed a little further into her mouth, pressing against her teeth. “I know that we’ve been having our nightly visits and you sit with those deer like eyes and stare up at me, less afraid and more excited each time I step up to your bed. You lean into my touch. A sweet little human like you, it’s unheard of really.” It’s part of the fun. Harry loved that bit of it. Her confusion over it and yet she gave into the innermost desires. “Why don’t you push those blankets off, sit up on your knees.”

“Keep your eyes on mine the whole time, understand?” His voice was deep and smooth, but there was an undercurrent of demand that left no room for argument. He released his fingers from her mouth and stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers as he waited for her to follow his instructions. Once she did, he stood in front of her with a hint of a smile. Just a little bit, his lip tilted up with a smidgen of dimple showing as he slid his knuckles over her jawline and down to her thundering pulse. “There. You follow directions well, mm?”

He continued his exploration down, finding the straps of the babydoll she’d put on in his honor. “And this… Did you put this on to tempt me?” He sucked his teeth for a second, pulling on the elastic and letting it snap back into place. “Or what, little angel? What’s the purpose?”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as he touched her, his knuckles rough against her skin. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, even standing this close to him. Her heart pounded in her chest, echoing in her ears as she did as he asked, keeping her eyes locked on his. She felt a shiver run down her spine as he cupped her jaw, his thumb brushing over her lip. "I-I..." She stammered, her words catching in her throat as he touched her. His voice was so commanding, so sure of himself. It was both intimidating and exhilarating. Y/N could feel the traitorous heat spreading through her body, settling between her legs. "I... I put it on because I thought you'd like it." She admitted, her voice hesitant. "I don't know why..." She trailed off, shaking her head slightly. What had she expected? 

Harry’s smile widened, revealing more of his teeth. “You don’t know why… or you don’t want to admit it to yourself? C’mon, sweetheart. We’ve been over it.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. “Because I think you do. I think you want me to like it. Want me to touch you… Want me to fuck you…” His hand moved from her jaw to the strap of her babydoll, pulling it down her shoulder. 

“I think you’ve been having dreams about me stroking your skin, licking all over you, getting deeper inside that sopping cunt than any of those pathetic men that keep trying to ask you on dates at your job could ever do. I think that it’s ironic that since I’ve revealed myself to you, you’ve barely been giving any man the time of day. And yet…” He dragged down the other strap, letting his nail drag against her fragile skin. “You put on the sweetest scented lotions for me. You do your hair nice and pretty, you make your skin so fucking soft… because you want me to touch you. You put on little outfits you want me to take off.” It made him chuckle under his breath, the entire demeanor of him towering over her slightly terrifying and fully exhilarating. Arousing, almost. “It’s so cute, it’s pathetic.”

Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned in close, his voice dropping to that gravelly whisper. She felt her body tense as he spoke, her heart pounding harder in her chest. He was so forward, so crude. And yet… it sent a jolt of heat between her legs. She could feel her body reacting to his words, her panties damp and her peaked nipples straining against the satin of her babydoll.

Harry’s hand moved from her shoulder to her breast, cupping it firmly in his palm. He could feel the hard bud of her nipple pressing against his skin. He broke away from her gaze, looking down at the mounds of flesh spilling out of the top of her nightgown. “Look at that… so eager for my touch.” He chuckled darkly, his thumb rubbing over the peak of her nipple through the fabric. “Do you want me to touch you, pretty human? As lovely as it is to have you speechless, I need you to open that mouth and start talking.”

He continued to rub over her, his touch making her melt. So unusual, like she’s been dipped in thick, warm water. Y/N could feel her body responding, her breath coming in short gasps as pleasure coursed through her. She bit her lip, struggling to find the words he wanted to hear. "Y-yes..." She finally managed to whisper, her voice barely audible as she managed to get it out of her throat. "I want you to touch me." She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I want you to do... everything you said."

Harry’s grin was wicked as he listened to her speak. “Good girl. That’s what I wanted to hear.” He murmured, his hand moving from her breast to the hem of her nightgown. He slowly began to pull it up, his knuckles brushing against her stomach and sides. “Now… let’s see what you’ve got hidden beneath this.” As the fabric reached her ribs, he paused, looking down at her body. “You know, I’ve been wondering what you’d feel like. I hadn’t anticipated your desperation. Most humans stay terrified, like the first time I revealed myself to you. Their hearts pounding and their blood feeling like ice. But I knew you’d be different.”

 His fingertips were hot as they caressed her stomach, the other hand lightly brushed the hair from her shoulder. “So sweet, yet so brave. Got a monster in your room, n’yet here you go… dressing up for him. Getting all slick between the thighs for him.”

Without breaking eye contact, he slowly dragged her nightgown up until it was bunched around her waist, exposing her lower half to him. Her breathing grew shallow as she felt the cool air brush against her bare skin. His fingers slowly traced up her thighs, gently parting her legs further.  “Look at that.” Her body was beautiful. “See? You’ve got such an angelic body, and you want me to do such filthy, nasty, depraved things to it.” He clicked his tongue, watching her shiver. “I can smell how wet you are, little thing. S’pathetic. Sweet little angel, dripping all over those pretty panties you chose for your demon t’see you in. Ought t’just leave you here to take care of yourself.”

Y/N's eyes fluttered closed as his fingers danced up her thighs, parting her legs further. A soft moan escaped her lips as a rush of heat pooled between her thighs. Her breath hitched in her throat as he spoke, his words sending shivers down her spine. She could feel her face growing hot, embarrassment mixing with arousal. "No!" she squeaked, her voice pitched as her eyes widened up at him. The idea of him leaving her like this was the last thing she wanted to happen. "Please, don't leave me like this..."

Harry chuckled darkly, enjoying the way her desperation made her voice quiver. “Like what, pretty human? All hot and bothered, with no relief in sight? Aching to be touched, toyed with, filled? All because of little old me?” His fingers continued to trace patterns on her skin, coming agonizingly close to where she needed them most but never quite touching.

Without warning, a hand tangled in her hair, pulling to arch her head back. The little gasp fueled him, the desperation in the human’s face almost humorous at this point. It hurt her a little, the grip, but he could smell that she liked it. “I thought you were this sweet little thing when I first saw you. Picking those flowers in the garden to bring to your neighbor, baking things to bring to nurses, walking those little animals at the shelter, offering directions to people you barely knew.” Her humid cunt was so close to his fingers but he only slightly brushed over the damp fabric with his knuckles. “I knew that there had to be something wrong with you. Jus’ didn’t think it would be that you’d get wet for a monster like me.”

He leaned down, his voice a dark growl in her ear. “But now I see it. You’re not just some sweet little thing. You’re a nasty, desperate little slut, aren’t you? All dressed up in your pretty panties and nightgown, just waiting for me to come and fuck you.” His tongue darted out, licking the shell of her ear. “And I will fuck you, pretty human.”

His breath was hot against her ear as he spoke, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Let me tell you what I’m gonna do.” His hand released her hair, instead tracing down her neck, between her breasts, and down her stomach. “I’m gonna tear these pretty little things you’ve got on to shreds, and then…” His fingers hooked under the hem of her damp underwear, pulling it tight against her before snapping it. “M’gonna make sure that tight little cunt is nice n’thoroughly soaked so it takes my cock a bit easier. I’m not the patient type when it comes to this sort of thing.”

He leaned down and captured her lips in a brutal, dominating kiss. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, claiming her as his. The demon bit her lower lip, making it bleed just slightly, before sucking on it and letting go with a pop. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he growled against her mouth, before kissing her again, harder this time. His hand gripped her face, holding her still for his kiss, his thumb digging into her cheeks.

As his kiss deepened, his hand snaked down between her thighs once more. His thumb found her swollen nub and began to rub slow, firm circles around it. She gasped into his mouth, her hips bucking against his hand. He chuckled against her lips, his grip tightening on her face to keep her in place. "Shh, little thing," he whispered against her mouth, his voice dark and mocking. "This is just the beginning."

His touch became more insistent, his thumb rubbing her fast and hard, like he knew she liked it. He broke the kiss to watch her face as he kept her head back, mouth open for him to do as he pleased. His other hand gripped her jaw, forcing her to keep her face tilted up towards him. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice low. "Look at me while I touch you- keep that mouth open."

"Good girl." he praised, as she whimpered, her breath hitching as he sped up his pace. Without warning, he spit into her open mouth, watching as she tried to swallow it reflexively. "Mmm, that’s it. Swallow it all down." He leaned in, his tongue darting in to lick up what was left of his saliva from the corners of her lips. "You’d let me do anything I wanted to, wouldn’t you?”

His voice was laced with dark amusement as he continued to rub her swollen clit, feeling her grow even wetter from his treatment. Poor little thing really needed a proper fuck, and no human would be able to give it to her. "Answer me, pretty human. You'd let me do anything, wouldn't you?" His grip on her jaw tightened, his thumb pressing down hard on her chin, making her open her mouth wider. "Nod if you'll be a good little toy for me."

She nodded eagerly, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment before flying back open to meet his gaze. He grinned wickedly, his hand moving faster, his touch firmer. "Good girl. You'll take whatever I give you, won't you?" He leaned down, his hot breath washing over her face. "You'll take my fingers, my thick tongue, my cock, my spit... " He paused, his eyes glinting mischievously. “My cum.”

Y/n let out a high-pitched whine, her body shaking slightly as he spoke. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, she nodded frantically, her hands clenching into fists at her sides as she tried to hold herself together. "Uh-huh.” The feeling was almost trance like as she rocked her hips against his hand, his dark eyes boring into her own as she felt her own lull from the heat of pleasure simmering in her lower stomach. The grip he had on her left no room for argument but she didn’t want to. As long as he didn’t stop, she was happy.

He knew he had her right where he wanted her. She was so close now, her face prickled with sweat, her breath coming in short pants. He could see the desperation in her eyes, the plea for release. But he wasn’t ready to give it to her just yet. He slowed his touch, his thumb barely brushing over her swollen bud. "Not yet, little thing," he murmured, his voice mockingly gentle. “Lay back and spread your legs. Let me see that cunt.”

Y/n hesitated for a moment, his words making her feel exposed and vulnerable, but the need for release was too great. She slowly laid back, spreading her legs wide apart as he demanded. He let out a low whistle, his gaze raking over her dripping pussy. "Fuck, you're soaked," he said, his voice filled with appreciation. He reached out, his fingers dipping into her folds, spreading her open even wider. "Shouldn’t have waited this long. If I’d known you were gagging for it like this... Well, I’d have bent you over a few nights ago."

He leaned down between her thighs, his hot breath washing over her wet slit. Fucking finally. As delicious as her fear had been at first, he preferred this. Seeing her spread out and so desperate for him that she was near tears. She squirmed, her hips lifting off the bed, inviting him in- and that’s all the push he needed. He grinned against her, his hands gripping her thighs and pushing them back even further. "Greedy little thing, you’ll get what I give you." he chuckled darkly, his tongue snaking out to lap at her. She cried out, her back arching, her hands fisting the sheets beneath her.

He licked her slowly, his tongue flat against her pussy, lapping up her juices. She tasted so fucking good, he could eat her out all night- but he had other plans. He focused on her clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue, feeling it swell under his touch. "Harry- Sir.." She whimpered, her hands finding their way to his hair, gripping it tightly. Maybe she shouldn’t be touching a demon so liberally but she wasn’t thinking about anything other than the pleasure building up in her stomach. "Please, please... I need t’cum."

He hummed against her, the vibrations sending shivers through her entire body. He could feel her nearing the edge, her breath hitching, her grip on his hair tightening. He pulled back at the last second, smiling cruelly when she let out a frustrated cry. "Not yet." he chided, his hands gripping her thighs and flipping her onto her stomach. He pushed her upper body down into the mattress, lifting her hips up to meet him. “You’d think that such a nice girl would have better manners. Follow instructions, little human. Your orgasm belongs to me. I say when it happens.” His hand came down rough against her ass, making her jolt.

He brought his hand down again, the sound of his palm meeting her soft flesh filling the room. Y/N whimpered, her face burying into the sheets, her back arching as she tried to meet each smack of his hand. Despite the stinging pain, her body still yearned for release. She could feel her juices sliding down her thighs, her body tensing with anticipation as she waited for him to touch her again. Any touch, anything the demon gave her was something she was hungry for. 

“Fuck. Look at you.” He was genuinely impressed at how well she took it, how much she liked it. The woman was dripping, soaking fucking wet, and it was all because of him. His ego was plenty big, but it only served to swell it further. “Such a slut.” His voice dropped low. “I think you’re plenty wet to take my cock now, considering you can’t sit still for a second.”

He crawled up her body, his weight pressing down on her back as he leaned over her body, one hand between them slipping his cock over her slick cunt. His hips lowered, his hot flesh parting the folds and he nudged her clit. "You sure you can handle it, little thing?" He murmured against her ear, his breath hot on her skin.

“Yeah, I can. I can do it, just put it in me. Please.” Even when she was being edged, she managed to be polite. How darling.

His hips slowly rolled, the thick head of his erection easing into her. It wasn’t the easiest thing, but she was so slick that it helped. The poor pussy was stretched as he sunk in, fluttering around him as it tried to get used to the intrusion- and it would. Harry would make sure of it. “Fuck!” He heard her gasp, her fingers clenching on the sheets beneath them. "So...big." She whimpered, the words muffled by the bedding. He chuckled darkly, his arms wrapping around her waist and lifting her up onto her knees, her back arching to meet his chest.

“I am big. And you’re taking it like a good little angel. Aren’t you?” He started to move, his hips slowly rolling beneath her, his cock sliding in and out of her in languid pulls. 

She let out a low moan, her head falling back against his shoulder, her body melting into his. “Yes-I’m taking it… I’m taking your cock…” she whimpered, her voice filled with pleasure. It was something different altogether. Sparks of heat all over her body, his strength keeping her up, the most full she had ever felt, and she wondered how she had ever lived without this feeling before.

“You are. Filthy little fucktoy, finally serving your purpose." His voice was a dark purr in her ear, his hot breath washing over her neck. His hips rolled against hers, his strong hand reaching up to hold her throat. She could hear the wet sounds of their bodies meeting, the squelching noises of how turned on she was, and he was more than happy to point it out. "Listen to that. That's the sound of you being so eager for me."

His grip on her throat tightened just a bit as he slowing increased his pace, gucking up into her harder. The new angle had his cock hitting a  spot inside of her that had her gasping, hand grabbing at his forearm to try and ground herself at the stimulation. it was overwhelming in the best way, making her feel a new sense of frenzied she’d never had before, "Fuck, right there. Don't stop, m’begging you- it’s so good." She slurred out, her hips rolling back to meet his thrusts. Her pussy clenched around him like a vice, fluttering and squeezing his thick length.

"That's it, little angel. You can take it. Fucking milk my cock." His pace was relentless , inhuman stamina helping him keep her right where he wanted her. It was too fucking good.

After all the time he’s spent watching her, dipping his toes inside her dreams and planting seeds in her mind to help her want him, he was taking what he wanted. She was loving it. He’d known he’d give it to her good, that she’d never be able to compare him to a human because there wasn’t a chance in hell they could give her what he could -pun intended- but his obsession with the sweet little human was far more engrained in him than he thought. She genuinely loved this. There was no way he could even compel her to respond like this. The girl was eager and he was going to give it to her. He could feel her tightening around him, her body quaking as the pressure built. "You want to cum, don't you slutty girl? Want to cum on my cock?"

"Yes, fuck- I'm so close. Please, please let me cum.” The begging was music to his ears. Matched with how she felt wrapped around him, he knew he was going to come back for more. This was his human now. No take backs. “I'll do anything, just please let me cum on your cock" She was practically sobbing with need, her pussy clenching and fluttering wildly around him, trying to milk his throbbing cock. The wet squelching noises were obscene, her arousal dripping down his shaft and making a mess over his balls but he loved every bit of it.

“Oh, you’ll get it. I’ll let you have it, little angel." He cooed in her ear, his pace slowing as his hips rolled forward, burying himself to the hilt inside her and holding there. His strong hand left her throat and reached down, his fingers slipping between them. Fingertips pressed  against her little bud, rolling it between his thick digits. “For a price.”

She whimpered as he stilled within her, her head turning to nuzzle her nose against his cheek as she tried to beg for more. His fingers on her swollen bud had her back arching further, her hips rolling to meet the pressure, "Oh, anything. Anything, jus’ let me cum.” she whined, her breath hitching as he bullied her clit with his circles. So mean, so good.  “What do you w-want?”

“Your soul.” He purred softly, shallowly thrusting inside of her. “All you need to do is promise yourself to me, sweet angel. Give me your soul, devote yourself to me… and you can have my cock every single night. No one else can have this pussy- but you won’t want to give it to anyone else.” The words were whispered in a soothing tone, mumbled against her cheek.

She whimpered at the promise, her arm wrapping back around his neck tighter as she felt like he was asking for more than her body. She bit her bottom lip, hesitating as she tried to think through the haze of pleasure. It felt hard to think when all she could comprehend was how right it felt to be stuffed to the brim with his fat cock. Every nerve ending was singing his praises. His hands kept up their work, his hips slowly rolling forward to bury himself to the hilt within her. The sensation was heavenly, and she wanted more. "You-you promise? Every night?" Her voice was breathy, needy.

“As long as you give me your soul and give me your devotion, yes. It’s the only way you’ll get me. Get this.” His fingers quickened on her clit, the other hand gently pressing the sides of her throat. “Tell me that you belong to me, mind body and soul, and I’ll let you cum. I’ll fill you with my cum and fuck it into you so you can feel it when you go do all your good deeds tomorrow before crawling back into bed, so you can wait for another load from the very opposite of what you stand for.”

She shuddered, her eyes fluttering shut as his words washed over her. The pleasure was so intense, her mind hazing over until only his voice and touch remained. She could feel herself teetering on the edge, desperate for release. His fingers on her throat made her feel so small, so owned. The thought of being filled with his sinful essence, a secret sin that would fuel her righteous deeds... it was fucked up, but it made her clench around him needily.

“Answer me, Angel. Give yourself to me and I’ll give you my cum. You’ll feel it trickling out of you as you lay in bed tomorrow morning, remember my touch. Remember that you’re mine.” He leaned into her, his teeth nipping at her earlobe. His fingers were relentless, the hand on her throat tightening ever so slightly. “Tell me.” 

Her voice was high-pitched, desperate as she gasped. Maybe she’d wake up tomorrow and regret this, but for now she couldn���t. Swimming in the hazy waters that was the overwhelming pleasure the demon could hand her, she wanted the endless supply.  "I'm yours! Mind, body, soul... it's all yours. Please, please give me what I need. I-I'll remember, I promise. I'll remember that I belong to you." She could barely speak, her breathing hitching as she grew closer and closer to the peak. Her hips jerked against his grasp, silently begging for more.

As the words left her lips, Harry could feel her surrendering to him completely. Her soul, her very essence, now belonged to him. With a deep, rumbling growl of satisfaction, he captured her lips in a searing kiss, swallowing her cries as he finally allowed her to cum. His fingers on her clit increased pressure and speed, pushing her over the edge into ecstasy.

Her body stiffened, her head tilting back to break the kiss as her mouth hung open in a silent scream. His hips surged forward, burying himself deep as he let out a dark laugh, malicious in nature as he felt the binding take hold. He swelled inside of her, her inner walls fluttering and clenching around him as her release claimed her.

As he felt her surrender, Harry's own orgasm ripped through him like a freight train. His eyes rolled back, his teeth clenching in a snarl as he began to cum inside of her. His arm held her up, lightly pinching her clit to make her clench around him as he pulsed shot after shot into her, rocking his hips into her- he wanted every drop inside of his new possession. His claim to take. His cum was thick and hot, filling her to the brim as he emptied himself into her. It seeped out of her, dripping down her thighs as he finally slowed, his orgasm subsiding. He pulled out of her, his softening prick leaving her hole open. Pushing her back down into the mattress, he pressed her face into the pillow as he examined his handiwork.

He spread her apart, admiring the way his seed was leaking out of her. So fucking filthy and wrong for a girl who acted like an angel, but at night she had promised herself to the devil. And that couldn’t be undone. He smirked darkly, knowing that by tomorrow, it would have soaked into her, a constant reminder of him. What they’d done. She’d never be able to escape it. Running a finger along her crease, he gathered some of the excess before bringing it up to her face. "Open up. Have a taste." he commanded, pressing his digit against her lips.

With a soft sigh, she parted her lips and allowed his finger to slip inside. Her eyes fluttered closed as she tentatively tasted his essence, a salty and slightly bitter tang coating her tongue. It was the taste of sin, of forbidden fruit, and she couldn't help but suck his finger clean, her cheeks hollowing out. When he withdrew, she let out a soft, needy sound, her face coated with embarrassment and desire. This wasn’t her, it wasn’t a way she’d ever acted with anyone else, but the monster had effectively trapped her in his clutches- and she had no wish for escape, either. Her legs felt like jelly, her skin flushed and hot in the best way, the orgasm nearly having made her pass out. It was safe to say she had been fucked stupid.

Satisfied with her compliance, Harry grinned. Really grinned, teeth and dimples and all. He ran his hands over her back and bottom, squeezing the softness of her possessively. His. It was all his now. After months of watching and waiting, of his nightly visits, she had given in. "You're going to stay like this for a little while longer, alright?" He didn't wait for her response, instead, he flipped her over and pushed her thighs apart, spreading her wet, messied hole wide. "I want you to lie here, like this, and think about who you belong to."

Her arms were splayed above her head, her fingers clutching at the sheets. Her chest rose and fell with quickened breaths, and her eyes were locked onto his, watching as he ran his fingers along her inner thighs, occasionally dipping down to toy with her, keeping her on edge. "You're mine, aren't you?" His voice was low, almost hypnotic. "Say it. Remind me of what I already know." His thumb brushed against her swollen nub, making her gasp.

“I’m yours.” She breathed, eyes opening from their state of rest. The man was hauntingly beautiful, brutal lines and soft skin, hot and silky, and all she knew was that her brain could only remember his name and one sentence to spill out of her swollen mouth. “I belong to you, mind, body and soul. I am happy to be yours.”

There was no turning back now. 

3:33

[blueycarpenter]

little star

Ever since Cairo submitted her midterm assignment, things haven't been the same between you two.

fandom: MILLER'S GIRL (2024) content: x reader a/n: i had posted this on a previous account, in case it looks familiar

Cairo hadn’t been herself lately. You two had talked for hours for the past couple of weeks. You had grown closer and more intimate with each other. Then, all of the sudden, everything changed.

Cairo wasn’t around anymore. She never called or wrote. It was ever since she turned in her midterm assignment for Mr. Miller that ties had been cut. Due to her tight deadlines, you two had agreed not to see each other until after she had finished the midterm, but it had been 3 days since the due date… She had been a ghost.

You called Winnie that morning—the dawn of the 4th day after. She explained the discord that had accumulated and how Cairo had taken the beating to heart. But she was the strongest person you had ever met. She couldn’t be broken.

Could she?

Winnie had said a lot of things. 

Cairo was emotional. Cairo was resentful. Cairo was heartbroken. Cairo was alive, at least.

No more alive than the works she’d create from a blinking cursor, the lead of a pencil, or the ink of a pen, though. She’d masterminded such beauty that reflected nothing but the world around her. Though when she had unlatched the door to let the monsters in, the rain poured and the lightning struck. 

You weren’t as talented a writer as she was, but who could be? Between those paragraphs of literacy and media was blood. It was a rich kind of blood that lured you to Cairo Sweet in the first place. It was reckless and mysterious, but you’d never felt more grounded before you laid eyes on her. Heard her speak… Learned her heart… And you missed that more than everything.

Was there Sweet to her name anymore? Or was there just Cairo? 

Winnie said Cairo had been alone. She said she had wanted to be alone.

But alone meant misery and displacement. Defeat and loneliness. Longing and torture. And Cairo didn’t deserve that. You didn’t care what she’d done or what she didn’t do. She was your north star. She shone brighter than anything you’d ever known, and therefore, nothing could ever change that.

So, you showed up to her house after that 6 AM phone call with Winnie Black. You needed to see her. Not just because you missed her more than anything, but because you couldn’t bear the thought of her discouraging her potential and honesty. Not in her wondrous existence.

Cairo didn’t fear anything, you’d learned, so you let yourself in and found her sitting in the darkness of her room, three cigarette butts on the floor and her journal open on the bed. Through the shadows, you found the top of her head over the other side of the bed. “Cairo?”

She didn’t move a muscle, but she did answer. “If you’ve come to talk, don’t bother. I’ve heard enough, and the sincerity I’ve expressed has been more than society is willing to tolerate. Honesty is feared by many. It’s tragic and hateful, yet it’s a quality that etiquette claims to be most valuable.” Then, she managed a wry scoff. “Hypocrites.” 

“Cairo, I don’t care what happened,” you replied. “I haven’t heard from you in days. I just missed you, and I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

She actually gave a laugh this time. “Aren’t I?”

As convincing as she may seem to other people, you had learned her better than most, because you had to figure her out the hard way, through phone calls and communication of words, not expressions. You didn’t have to see her face to determine how she truly felt. You could hear it. Dare you say, you could feel it. 

There was a tear in her voice as she spoke. And it led you rounding the bed to find her knees up, while she stared at the wall ahead. Those beautiful eyes were slow, like shards of obsidian as they raised to meet yours without a blink.

“Y/N…”

You dropped to your knees and pulled her into a hug. She didn’t reciprocate, but you held her for everything you were worth. You rested your cheek against her head, your fingers gently pulling the small tangles from her hair and your other hand corralling her back, clutching her shirt like she was going to disappear into the darkness. “Cairo, listen to me…” you whispered. Her warm breath filtered through your shirt. “I don’t care what anyone says. About you… About me… About anything… You are the greatest soul anyone could ever dream of having in their school, in their class, in their life, in anything.”

A warm, damp feeling found its way to your collarbone, and you knew it was tears. And all of the sudden, her weight was recognizable against your embrace. She felt so small in your arms that didn’t even hold all of her. It was the first time you realized just how petite she was for an 18 year-old girl with an extraordinary personality. “You know, to me… you’re above everything in this world. I’ve only seen people wander the earth, dreaming of what it’d be like to fly, but you… you fly, Cairo. You’re that star in the sky everyone dreams of being.” Your chest ached from how serious those words coming from your heart were. You then lifted your head to place a loving kiss to hers, because just holding her wasn’t enough anymore. 

Cairo sniffled, but didn’t say anything. However, she had managed to unbend her legs to hold you against her. And when you gently pulled away to have her look up at you and you, down at her, the wet streaks against her cheeks shimmered in the halflight.

You wiped them away and gave her a small smile. “Beautiful…” You kissed her forehead. “Magical…” You kissed her cheek. “Wonderful, you are.” The next place you were dying to heal with your lips caught your eyes, though it was merely small motions of your irises. Instead, you brushed her hair aside and pressed your foreheads together. Her eyes shut and for a moment, she looked peaceful as you finished with, “Yes, you are…”

She opened her eyes, now only tainted with a thin gloss. But then she managed the smallest, sweetest smile you’d ever seen. Her Cairo Sweet smile. “Thank you,” she said, her voice only a little above a whisper, mostly steady but with the slightest crack.

“It’s true,” you whispered back. Seeing her small smile was enough for you to give her your own, though yours was out of admiration, pride, and love. She truly was a star. 

She was your little star.

Then, her smile faded and she glanced away. It was almost shy, which surprised you. “Y/N?” Her voice grew a little stronger.

“Mm-hmm?” Whatever she wanted was hers.

“Kiss me.”

There was no hesitation as you granted her wish. Little did she know though, it was your wish too. You had wished upon a star, because that was the old saying. Wishing on a star was a chance that didn’t come often, especially when that one star was a shooting star. Yet, it hadn’t passed you up, and there was no way in hell you were going to pass it up.

Cairo’s lips were soft, but you could tell there were stories imprinted on them. They weren’t ex-stories, per se, but they were mysteries that you wondered how hard they would be to solve. How many pages would you have to read to uncover them? How much would she have to write to reveal them?

Only time would tell. But every journey starts somewhere.

And the best had a star to guide them.

[rjthirsty]

"I'm Pregnant" with IkePri

We've seen how dating, their first time, and engagement proposals pan out, but what Cybird will never deliver to us is that pivotal moment that MC tells one of the LIs that she's expecting.

This is just my idea of how it will work out with each suitor. MC is AFAB, and all suitors are AMAB. Obvious mentions of pregnancy lie ahead. Just a fun little exercise to test out drabbles. 

[7/21] Jin, Chevalier, and Gilbert done

Jin

Jin is the king of pulling out, but somewhere along the line, he slipped up and it resulted in nothing so he started to get lax. Somewhere along the line, you two stopped worrying about it. More times than not he still denies you the creampie that it turns out he enjoys seeing seep out of you. But now you're late, and maybe you two should have been more vigilant.

It's hard to find the words. You confirmed it with a physician, and you know you need to tell him, but having a baby with a commoner churns up trauma for Jin, and you're afraid he'll turn you out.

He's worried. You have never looked so ashen. When you said you needed to talk, he dropped everything to give you time. His large hand palms your cheek. He dips down to look into your eyes. And in a voice that has helped you through countless times he says “Whatever it is, it'll be okay.”

“I'm pregnant.” You finally manage. 

Shock leaves him wide-eyed in surprise. It takes him a moment to zip through the thoughts that spring into his mind - a million possibilities, questions, and outcomes on what he'd do if this day had ever come. Then a grin lights up his face and you almost miss it as he wraps his arms around you and lifts you off the ground to hug tightly to him, spinning around from the sheer joy of having a child with you.

He's better than his father. And you're not his mother. And the world is a different place with the two of you together. He's more excited than you thought he'd be. He talks to your stomach even before the child can hear him. He wants to princess carry you everywhere. And he introduces you as the mother of his children.

Chevalier

The way Chev looked at you after you told him the news was chilling - not because it was his icy stare that had silenced rooms and struck fear in children, but because you had never seen him… scared. He was scared. The news was not happily recieved as you thought it would be.

As the two of you prepared for bed and you talked of your day, you broke the news with excitement and turned to see him stunned and staring. “Chevalier?” You called to him. His eyes cut from your belly to your face.

“It's okay. You're not a beast, and I'm not afraid of you.” Attempting to soothe his worries, you moved closer and slowly snuggled into his chest. “I'd be lucky to have a child just like you, because you're an amazing man.”

He relaxed in your arms, his own arms surrounded you as he dropped his chin to put his lips on your head. “I'd rather have a child like you who can love someone like me. You may never understand him if he's like me.”

“But I don't need to to love him.”

From that day forward, Chevalier dove into reading about medical studies and other literature on pregnancy, labor, and delivery. He stated checking up on you more often and bringing you all sorts of items said to help with pregnancy issues. He would have delivered your child himself except thankfully Clavis helped you talk him out of it. There are some things you'd rather he not be in the middle of.

Gilbert

“Do you want me to tell him?” Walter asked, a serious note in his voice.

“No. I want him to hear it from me.”

You knew the news of family was not a joyous thing in Obsidian. Especially for Gilbert. The land of deceit and decay, where families had murdered families for generations. Where the Emperor carried the sins of the Obsidian line that had wrought death and bloodshed countless times across this kingdom and others.

Gil had wanted to end it. To stop his line from continuing. And here you were, pregnant with his child. He wouldn't hurt you you were certain, but he might actually lock you up this time in order to prevent anybody else from hurting you. He could if he wanted. But living like that would leave everyone unhappy.

In order to prevent another bed-chaining, you visit him in his study. Before you made it two steps inside the room, he stood from his chair and moved towards you, worry clouding his face. He felt your anxiety. Something was not right with you, and he knew it.

“I'm fine,” you assured him as he quickly looked you over. “I just… have something to tell you.”

Gil's perfect smile covered up his momentary worry. “Surely, no one has bothered my little rabbit. Yet your heart is racing like the day we met.”

“No, no one has bothered me.” You step closer to him and wrap your arms around him, trapping him in place. With a lean of your back, you lock onto his single red eye to show how serious you are, and plainly explain, “I'm pregnant.”

His hands fly out, snatching you close to him as he squeezed you against his chest, holding onto you like you might somehow slip away if he were to let go. This is not the first time he has done this. You brace against him, giving him at least a few seconds of his desperate hugging before it begins to feel like he'll crush you. It always goes like this. 

“Gil! Gilbert, please. I can't breathe.”

He relinquished you, and as you gasped lungfuls of air, he scooped you up and strode out the door. “Wait! Gil! Where are we going?”

You were used to the palace by now that you knew he was headed towards his bedroom. Even if he didn't answer, you could already see how this was going to go. “Put me down! I am not going to be locked up and hidden away. That is not how you treat people you love.”

“Do you presume you can order me around?”

“No, but if you do this, I will never forgive you.”

Gilbert slowed his steps and came to a stop. In his eye you could see emotion wavering, and while you hadn't learned how to read him as well as he knew how to read you, you had learned to see the different sides of him that he only shared with you. 

“Now,” you began calmly, “I'll make some tea, and we can talk about this. At a table. With no shackles or rope.”

“I’m so weak to your requests. At least let me lock the doors so no one can bother us.”

“You can lock the doors if I get the key to them during our talk.”

Gilbert's biggest fear is losing someone he loves. He recognizes he has desires to control and cage MC to keep her safe from others, but he also knows those desires are not acceptable. He's at the mercy of his emotions, and despite being a genius, he often acts on whims, especially relating to MC. I'd love to explore this further. See how far we can push him.

[prythianpages]

Slipping Through My Fingers | Azriel

Azriel x Green Witch | Summary: it's your baby girl's first day of school and Azriel isn't ready to let her go.

warnings: fluff/angst; some suggestiveness at the end (bonus scene)

a/n: This is part of my ABBA x ACOTAR series (masterlist) where I dedicate a song to a character (: but also my Dandelion series. I really adore this song and this was the only series I could apply it to. This can pretty much be read as a stand alone imagine. All you have to know is that reader is a witch and is an established relationship with Az.

In the quiet hush of morning, Azriel and Melaina find themselves at the breakfast table with sleep in their eyes. The floor is cloaked in their shadows, joining one another at their feet in a vast sea of darkness.

Yet, the dance of their shadows harbor distinct meanings.

Though he tries to hide it, your keen eyes pick up on the subtle poignant unease in Azriel's demeanor. An undercurrent of melancholy taints the air, prompting you to send a reassuring tug through your bond. Azriel returns the gesture, his hand finding yours across the table. Meanwhile, Melaina quietly finishes her breakfast. Her shadows, a whirlwind of nerves and excitement, betray her impassive appearance. Today is her first day of school, the precipice of a new chapter in her life, and Azriel can't help but grapple with the realization that his little girl is growing up far too quickly.

“All done, my pretty?” You ask softly, gaze alight with admiration as her small wings flutter behind her.

She’s the mirror image of her father with her captivating hazel eyes–a perfect blend of greens and browns that remind you of the nature you’re so fond of. Two braids cascade down her shoulders and delicate bangs accentuate her sun-kissed complexion. When she was born, you had joked that you had given birth to Azriel’s carbon copy and little did you know that even her personality would match his. 

Melaina nods and you rise, taking her plate to the kitchen sink. The corner of your lips lift up into a smile when you hear Azriel ask, “Are you sure you want to go to school? You can always start next year.”

“Mel is more than ready for school,” you lightly chide Azriel, who chooses to ignore your words of consolation. 

His gaze is fixed on Melaina, a plethora of scenarios plaguing his mind. He wishes he could see what’s really on her mind–to be able to foresee any worries she may have and ease her through them. The same way he’s eased her through every milestone of her life thus far. He was there when she took her first steps, when she first got hurt from tripping over a rug that he immediately disposed of after, when she said her first word–which much to your dismay was your cat’s name, Binx. 

But now, she was ready for school. Her first time being away from home without you or him or his brothers by her side. Her first time being on her own. What if the kids in her class don’t take well to her? To her shadows? He remembers the apprehensive looks he’d receive in Windhaven when growing up and the thought of anyone doing the same to her pains him. What if they are mean to her? What if they hurt her?

The obsidian tendrils at Azriel's side stir with an eerie melody, commanding Melaina's shadows to rise. They snap to attention like disciplined soldiers heeding orders. An unspoken promise unfolds—her shadows would help guide her and protect her from any lingering stare or slightest suspicion of malintent. They return to her side as she rises to her feet, tickling her sides and causing her to giggle.

 Azriel smiles and shares her laughter, capturing every minute of it, the feeling in it.

**

There’s that odd melancholy feeling again as he stands in front of the school with Melaina on one side and you on the other. He can’t help the frown that settles over his face when she wiggles her tiny hand out of his grasp to run to her cousins. You’re following after her, tugging Azriel along with you to join his brothers and their mates at the front of the school.

“Good morning, Azriel jr,” Cassian greets her with a smile, playfully tugging at one of her braids. “Are you ready for your first day?”

Melaina lets out a huff. “Of course I am, Uncle Cas.”

Cassian then looks toward Azriel, who continues to brood, and chuckles. “It doesn’t look like your daddy is.”

Azriel glares at Cassian. You leave his side to hug Feyre and the frown leaves his face at the delighted squeal that comes from you, his shadows singing in response. He turns his head to see you and Feyre exchange smiles while you gush in excitement over her growing belly. Though Feyre looks at Azriel with a knowing smile, her words are directed to you.

“Rhys was the same way with Nyx,” she muses and out of the corner of his eye, Azriel catches his brother rolling his eyes. But he doesn’t deny it.

“So was Nesta,” Cassian adds, propping an elbow on Nesta’s shoulders. She shoves him off with a shrug before chiding after their twin boys, Cardan and Calian. The aftermath of the aphrodisiac you made–or rather, remade–for her after Azriel accidentally drank the first batch.

“I’m surprised you’re faring well with this,” Feyre says with a raised brow at you.

“Well, someone has to be the strong one,” you tease, side glancing at Azriel and squeezing his hand. 

Azriel lets out a small huff, similar to the one Melaina let out earlier. He knew you were also stressed and a little sad but you were surprisingly able to hide it better than him. But unbeknownst to him, just in case the obsidian necklace she wore was not enough, you had casted a protection spell over Melaina before she went to bed…and packed her bags with a variety of charged crystals.

The gathering of students at the school's entrance slowly disperses, and Azriel tenses beside you, acknowledging the imminent moment of having to say goodbye. Nyx, ever courteous, takes it upon himself to accompany Melaina to class. Azriel suspects Feyre's influence in Nyx's gesture, as if she intuited the added difficulty for him and you. He watches as Melaina walks back to you and you lean down, gently smoothing her bangs before placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Today will be a wonderful day for you,” you affirm for her with a radiant smile, making Azriel's heart melt at the sight of the two girls he loves the most.  He wishes that he could freeze the picture and save it from the funny tricks of time. 

Your hand delicately reaches for the obsidian crystal suspended from her neck, lifting it tenderly to your lips. There’s a flash of green light that engulfs the crystal and as you release the necklace, Azriel notices the new sparkle to it. “Love you, my pretty.”

Though Melaina doesn’t verbalize it back, her eyes radiate a golden glow and the soft caress of her shadows against your face feels like a tender whisper that articulates, "I love you too.” You pull her in close, hugging her smaller frame and lean down to whisper. But Azriel’s attentive senses still catch it.

“Now hug and give your daddy a kiss so he doesn’t cry.”

Azriel resists the urge to roll his eyes. Feeling a tug on his sweater, he leans down to meet his daughter at eye level. Opening his arms expectantly, a surge of warmth envelops him as she eagerly rushes into his embrace. A tender kiss graces his cheek, accompanied by the familiar caress of her shadows against his other cheek similar to the way they had done with you. He pulls away to look at her, holding her gently by the shoulders. He knows her shadows will do well to protect her and if those aren’t enough, her older cousins are just a couple of classrooms down the hall. But he needs to hear her say it.

“What will you do if someone is mean to you?”

Melaina’s eyes light up and she steps out from his hold. True to the goddess you named her after, she's a tiny vision of nightmares and madness, as she assumes a defensive position, her shadows dancing around her.

“Kick them in the face!” She exclaims as she raises her leg up with a glare directed toward her nonexistent enemy.  “I'll make my enemies bleed.”

Cardan and Calian follow after her while Nyx wisely keeps a safe distance, amused by the spectacle of his younger cousins engaging in an imaginary brawl. Cassian watches them fondly, striking punches of his own into the air but you’re shaking your head with furrowed brows. Azriel catches the pointed look you send his way and a subtle blush overtakes his cheeks as you’ve discovered his secret. He continues to read Melaina, those books you told him not to. 

“No, Mel, that’s not–”

“That’s my girl,” Azriel grins as he rises to his feet, feeling slightly better. He rustles her bangs fondly.

The sound of the school bell echoes through the park as a final warning that class should be beginning shortly. Azriel reluctantly shrugs Melaina’s backpack off his shoulder, the small bag looking ridiculous on someone of his stature. He adjusts it on her with careful consideration for her delicate wings and feels an ache in his chest as the backpack nearly engulfs her smaller frame. 

As the faint rustling, reminiscent of rocks shifting, comes from the bag, it is Azriel’s turn to send you a subtle yet pointed look in your direction. A suppressed smile tugs at his lips when you quickly avert your gaze and he realizes he wasn’t the only one keeping a secret.

“Off you go, my little shadow. See you later.”

Once the backpack is secured to her, she takes Nyx’s waiting hand and runs off to the entrance with him. Azriel almost frowns but then, at the top of the stairs, she turns around, waving goodbye with a small absent-minded smile.

He watches her go into the school with a surge of that well-known sadness. Tears prick his eyes and though he knows he’s being dramatic, he can’t help the feeling that he’s losing her forever. His sweet little girl who keeps on growing. She’s slipping through his fingers all the time.

**

Bonus scene

Before his family could indulge in making fun of him, Azriel grasps your hand, drawing you close as he summons his shadows. The inky tendrils swirl around you both, transporting you back to the familiar sanctuary of your home.

"If this is your reaction on her first day of school, I can only imagine what you’ll be like when she has her first crush," you say, a teasing sparkle in your eyes.

Azriel's grip on you tightens. He doesn’t want to grapple further into the inevitability of his daughter's growing independence because to him, Melaina will always be his baby girl. A subtle strain echoes in his voice as he pleads, "Don't."

Easing out of his embrace, you giggle at his dramatics, strolling toward the kitchen with a lightness in your step, intent on brewing some tea. "It's just a couple of hours, Az," you reassure him.

"A couple of hours?" Azriel echoes, a pensive note in his voice as he joins you in the kitchen.

Having taken the entire week off, he had intended to be present for every moment—dropping Melaina off and picking her up during her first week at school. He didn’t plan for much other than that and he was used to spending his days off with his little family but now Melaina was off at school, leaving the two of you alone.

The kettle placed on the stove begins to whistle, harmonizing with the new thought that brews in his mind. You’re raising your steaming cup of tea to your lips, peering over at Azriel as he walks up to you. “What? You want some?” You ask, raising your cup to him.

Azriel shakes his head with a smile. Carefully taking the cup from you, he places it onto the counter behind you. He gently but firmly holds your chin, coaxing you to meet his gaze. The faint blush on his cheeks returns, a soft hue that complements the golden brilliance in his eyes as he looks down at you with adoration because you’ve given him everything he’s ever dreamed of and more.

Still, there's an insatiable desire within him for even more moments, more shared dreams, and more of you.

“Let’s have another?”

“A baby?”

Azriel nods, attentively studying your features for any nuanced emotion. He feels relief when you smile and you voice your answer without having to say anything, flooding him with love through the bond you share. The two of you had discussed having children years ago, almost two years before having Melaina. After she was born, you mirrored each other’s desires for having more but had agreed on waiting but not too long as you wanted your children to grow up together.

“We do have a couple of hours to ourselves,” you remind him again, embracing him with arms entwined around his neck, fingers brushing through the back of his hair.

He hooks his arms under your knees, lifting you up with ease and you’re wrapping your legs around his waist. He grins when your legs tighten around him and kisses you.

“Let’s not waste another second.”

a/n: hope you enjoyed this as much as I did writing it <3 Sorry, I skipped ahead. I do want to eventually write an imagine for when Az & reader first find out they're having a baby. That might be the next imagine for this series.

tagging: @fxckmiup

[series masterlist]

[upsidedownwithsteve]

i've always loved the idea of a sunshiney/hippie reader with grumpy metalhead eddie, possibly involving her crystal collection or a tarot reading lol

Eddie was used to finding things in his van, his trailer, his bag - shit, even his pockets - that weren’t his.

It was collateral damage from running a bunch of preteens around, sharing babysitting duties with Steve, playing taxi cab and breakfast club. He’d find DnD die that weren’t his, old batteries from walkie talkies, sticky candy wrappers and lost baseball hats, trading cards and half empty bottles of pop that El wasn’t really supposed to drink.

And every time, he’d fuss about it, pretending to be meaner than he was, but fuck, sometimes it got a little too much. His trailer wasn’t big enough for him and Wayne as it was, and finding Lucas’ basketball uniform in his laundry only added to the list of things he needed to get done.

(He always washed it.)

So he’d chew everyone out and throw back their belongings to them like grenades, ranting about personal space and how his van wasn’t a trash can on wheels.

(“Yes it is,” Mike would always interject.)

And then you came along. Bright and bathed in colour, a pop of sunshine beside Eddie’s black and silver get up, always smiling even when the boy was scowling. It took a month, maybe two, of dating when Eddie started finding your things amongst his. It wasn’t anything overwhelming, like a toothbrush at his sink, or your clothes in his wardrobe - no, it was too early for that.

But he’d work a shift at the garage and sneak out the back for a unauthorised smoke break, hand shoved in his pocket to search for his lighter. He’d come up with a handful of rocks instead, pretty, colourful crystals that shone in the sunlight.

He didn’t need to ask to know that they were yours.

And when he drove home, his van rattling and the music blaring, another shiny thing caught his eye. Tucked amongst his cassettes, a lump of something smooth and dark, so black it was almost purple, hints of blue in its depths. He ran his thumb over it, smiling, and tucked it in his pocket with the rest.

By the time he saw you the next day, he’d collected a dozen of the things, scattered around his room, a tiny purple stone that looked like glass in the corner of his shower, a sky blue rock under his pillow.

He held them out to you like a handful of candy, pretty, shiny and colourful, dazzling in the sunlight - just like he thought of you. Eddie smiled when you scrunched your nose at him, looking a little embarrassed. But he took your hand in his free one, helping you clamber onto the bed beside him, your back to his chest as you sat between his spread legs.

Your pink dress clashed with his red shirt, an angry skull logo on the front of his, tiny daisies on yours.

You watched Eddie line up the crystals by size, a neat stripe of bright colour on his dark blue bedsheets. The boy hooked his chin over your shoulder and you could feel the smile he pressed against your cheek, one he’d saved up all day, just for you. He kissed your jaw, nuzzled his face into the crook of your shoulder, stubble scraping your skin until you squealed and laughed.

“These are pretty,” he finally said and you hummed, agreeing. He pointed to the black stone he’d found in his van. “What’s this for?”

“It’s obsidian,” you told him, picking the crystal up and turning it over in your hand. “S’meant to help with protection.”

Something inside Eddie’s chest bloomed, a pretty warmth that he was quickly associating with you. He smiled, hid it in your shoulder and tried not to turn as pink as your shoulder.

“Yeah? That’s awesome.” He pointed to another one, glittery and jagged and lilac coloured. “What about this-?”

[secretsandwriting]

Hermit love confessions

Ren, Mumbo, Doc, and Tango.

Pulled this one out of the drafts for you so @etsumumoo hand it over babe

Ren

You sighed as you looked out your window. It had been clear and sunny before breakfast and almost as soon as you were done eating, the sky opened and rain poured down. Normally, you didn’t mind the rain, enjoying the excuse for a break or working on your interiors. But it had rained for two days and you desperately wanted to work on the walls to the next part of your mega base.

In the two days it had been raining, you had done all of your interiors, finished the book you had been in the middle of, and taken at least three naps. You were out of things to do and from the looks of the sky, the entire day would be filled with rain.

Your sulking was interrupted by a banging on your door. Curious as to who had come out all this way in the rain, you slid to the door and opened it to find a soaked Ren. He was grinning ear to ear and you could see his tail wagging rapidly behind him. His good mood was contagious and you found yourself grinning back at him.

“Ren! To what do I owe the pleasure?” his grin got impossibly bigger.

“Well my fair beauty, it is raining! So I have come to request a dance!” He placed a juke boy down on the ground under your roof's Overhang and slipped your favorite disk in before holding his hand out to you. Glancing behind him at the rain, you decided, why not. You could ahrays blame your blush on the chill.

"I would love a dance!" You placed your hand on his and let him pull you into the cool rain. Your free hand went into his and you found yourself giggling as he led you in an overly dramatic Waltz.

Asyou twirled around with Ren, you found yourself gazing into his eyes. It wasn't often you got to see him without his Sunglasses and every time you found yourself lost in his gorgeous eyes.

"I love you." Ren's voice broke you out of your trance as well as stopping your movement. Ren stood in front of you still holding onto your hands. You took a second to gather your Thoughts so you could actually respond and not just stare at him with your mouth hanging open.

I love you too. Ren immediately perked up even more and dragged you into a Kiss before Playing another disk and leading you around in circles to the Sound of whatever disk the two of you decided on.

your rainy days were no longer a curse. They became a day of Ruddles, dancing, and whatever else Ren came up with.

Mumbo

When Grian had told you he needed to test something that you might die in, you said No. When he offered you a reward if you did it, you said yes. you put your things in a chest and Set your Spawn in the nearby bed.

what you didn't expect was to be dropped into an obsidian Box with Mumbo. When you glance up at the hole you fell in, you were met with a smirking Scar before he was blocked with another block of Obsidian.

It was very obvious neither of you really knew what to do, So you just sat there and listened as he nervously rambled about his redstone, asking a question here or There to Keep him talking So you weren't sitting in an awkward silence. Despite the fact Mumbo was clearly unsure of his situation which of course caused him to stutter a little more than normal, you found yourself relaxing. That was until Grian broke a block and yelled in.

"Just confess already!" The block was replaced and you and Mumbo sat in Silence, avoiding looking in the others direction. Neither of you seemed to know how to move on from that.

Clearly you had made a big mistake when you told Grian about your crush on Mumbo. You figured that would be Something Grian wouldn't spill, understanding that was something to be kept private. Unless…

You glanced up at Mumbo and found him looking at you, seemingly putting together the Pieces you were. Once it clicked he snorted and started laughing, you followed shortly behind.

"You told Grian about a crush didn't you?" Mumbo asked when he caught his breath. you nodded. "So it's Safe to assume We're both locked in here due to the fact that Grian found out about our mutual crushes and dragged Scar into his planning."

"Probably. Do you want to sort this out now or work on payback first?" Mumbo scooted over to your side, his warmth was a nice welcome from the cold obsidian.

"Payback of course." Neither of you mentioned how close you Sat, or the fact your hands ended up intertwined. You both knew how this would end, but first you Wanted a little revenge.

Doc

You were basing with Doc this season which had not been the best choice in hindsight. Between him trying to break the server, creating huge redstone machines that sometimes lagged so bad you'd end up dead, and your growing crush that made you worry too much when he overworked himself, you were not having a good time.

There were some nice moments but all of those contributed to your crush so it wasn'tmaking it any easier for you.

This time, Doc was working on another huge project. You weren't sure what it was, he hadn't told you but he was overworking himself more than normal which said a lot.

So you took it upon yourself to go find him and try to convince him to rest a little bit, the phantoms spawning led you right to him. The amount of them was worrying. Wandering around the machine, you looked for him. finding him tucked away into a corner working on some wires. You made sure to make lots of noise when walking up so you hopefully wouldn't scare him.

"Not now. I need to finish this."

"Doc, it's been six days you need to rest."

"No, I need to finish this!" He snapped

"Doc, there are phantoms swarming outside. You need to take a break. I made your favorite for dinner so please at least eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"Doc y-" He cut you off.

"No! I need to get this done. When I'm done I'll rest and eat but for now i need to work. Besides, there's no reason for you to care this much!"

"I need you to stop and think for a second because there's no way you can fully believe i'm not head over heels in love with your stupid oblivious self!" You didn't mean to let that slip bit it was too late to back out now.

"You're in love with me?"

"Doc, I wouldn't be putting up with everything I do if I wasn't. Now can we please go back to the house so you can eat an actual meal and get some rest?"

Y/n: Help! I broke Doc!

Xisuma: How?

Y/n: I was trying to convince him to take a break and we argued and i ended up telling him i was in love with him and he isn't moving anymore!

Xisuma: I don't think thats something i can fix

Tango

Someone had decided it would be a good idea to bring alcohol to the party. It was not a good idea. It was a very bad idea.

Tango was drunk. Not only was he drunk but he was a clingy drunk who liked professing his love for you to anyone who would listen. You weren't sure how to take it honestly.

Your crush of three seasons was grabbing onto you and whispering just how much he loved you into your ear. Everyone else loved it and was encouraging it. Everytime you left his grasp, his ruby eyes would start filling with tears and you couldn't help but let him latch back onto you.

Once the Party ended you found your sheet in charge of taking care of I drunk blaze. Which was surprisingly easy. Tango was very happy to listen to you as long as you were very close or responded to his "I love you's" with one of your own, or if you called him a nickname.

However, no matter what you tried, he wouldn't go to his base. He only wanted to go to yours. He wouldn't even go in for a change of clothes without you right by his side. Once you had finally gotten him into pajamas, you headed to your base.

Once at your base you had to convince him to let go of you enough for you to change and go to the bathroom and then to let you go to the Kitchen to grab him some water for the morning.

"Sorry darling, I just need to go grab a glass of water for you. Why don't you warm the bed up while I grab it?" Tango was more than happy to comply with the nickname and Special task you gave him. Hopefully he would be asleep when you came back. Stress had slipped you a bottle of hangover recovery meds when it became obvious Tango would only go home with you. Tango was still awake When you made it back to your room. He had enough patience to wait While you put the recommended amount next to the glass.

You climbed into bed next to him and the second he could he curled around you. You waited, until he was comfortable to adjust. Tango was out cold before you finished.

The next morning, Tango woke up in an unfamiliar room with a Killer headache. After pulling himself VP into a sitting position and noticed the water and pills on the nightstand and chugged them down, hoping they would work fast. While he waited for them to Kick in, he laid down and hoped he didn't make a fool of himself.

He had made a fool of himself. As the medicine kicked in the memories started flooding back. Not only had he confessed but he had been clinging to you and had to be convinced into letting you go. What did you think of him now? Slowly making his way downstairs, he tried to ignore What was left of his headache and the anxiety burning in his stomach.

He found you in the Kitchen making breakfast and decided if he could do it drunk, he could do it sober. Was it a good idea? Probably not but he was going to commit to it. so he moved behind you and tucked himself around you. His arms around your waist and his head on your shoulder.

"sorry." You snorted

"Its ok. It will be a fun story to tell." Tango groaned in embarrassment and you laughed at his misery. "Does your head hurt? ll He nodded into your shoulder. "Did you take the meds?" another nod. "After breakfast you can go lay down again. I'll make sure I'm quiet."

Tango perked up when he realized you weren't sending hin home. In fact, you hadn't moved away when he came behind you.

"I love you."

"I love you too Tango. If you would please let go of me So I can grab something out of the oven I would greatly appreciate it." Tango retreated to the table and wwatched you move around the kitchen, suddenly very glad he got drunk.

[somewhereincairparavel]

🐚 Daughter of Neptune headcanons list 🌊 part one..

Note: I've never done a pjo hcs post like this with the aesthetic pictures and everything- but I've been Itching to make a daughter of Neptune one, since I consider myself as a Neptune child. So this is sort of a self insert haha, and I thought it'd fun cuz I have so many hcs abt this, I've only over seen ppl do a daughter of Poseidon one.

Also this one has reader x Jason Grace as romantic pairings, but it isn't the main focus. Like I said, this is a self insert, and I love my bb jason ;) + imagine having Percy as a big brother, goals fr

• Okay so you'd come to Camp Jupiter at the age of 8-9, so you definitely have a considerable amount of childhood before you came to camp. Which only made it harder for you to adapt to the barbaric ways the Roman camp worked.

• Also, Since Neptune was not a very respected Roman god, your arrival was considered bad luck. Octavian made you go through an intense trial (that motherfucker was like 10 years old and an augur, and was already such a bitch lol) + forced a newly elected praetor Reyna (who was also just 10 at the time) to hold a senate meeting before you were even offered a position at camp.

• Neptune is very feared by the romans though, since he represented the harsh brutality of the ocean, so you got the Roman Nico di Angelo treatment from camp. Everyone was scared of you, flinched when you walked passed them. this was to your advantage tho, since you never got bullied, mostly out of fear.

• so Neptune temples in Camp Jupiter are only taken care of by you, if you left for a quest or something then the shrines would be in such a horrible state, bc no one cares enough to offer Neptune anything or even clean up his shrine. You'd do the cleaning and offering.

• and the worst part? Your dad wouldn't even notice you even after your efforts.

• okay, your powers are quite similar to Percy's butt I feel like since Roman/Greek siblings always have powers that compliment eachother, you'd have better control over the earthly side of the domain. Like you can cause longer earthquakes, control seismic waves, and make volcanos erupt + cause bigger avalanches, Stuff like that.

• Your water control was actually a little limited, up until Percy arrived and helped you enhance your powers. And you helped enhance his control over earthquakes, since his earthquakes usually only lasted for a few seconds, his dad is more water dominant. So when you met him, you knew he was a missing puzzle piece in your life. You'd even be able to communicate telepathically to Percy underwater, a power you both never knew you needed.

• Seriously tho it would be hilarious to look at, bc to the others, you both sound like squeaky dolphins but in reality you are just telepathically speaking with one another. The others wouldn't understand, and poor Frank would be so confused as to why you both are making strangled fish noises

Leo would troll you guys so bad for this lol

• your eyes would actually be black. Not blue, not sea green, just black. Your eyes would literally glitter like black obsidian rocks. because Poseidon is the calm side of ocean, hence sea green eyes for Percy, Neptune is the dark and scary side of the ocean, so that's black eyes for you. that difference would clearly reflect in your guys's eye colours AND personality (I'll expand on this more in part 2)

• but your scariness comes with a downside, you had no friends. No friends, except Jason and Reyna. it's just your dad's naturally strict aura surrounding you that makes your overall personality a Lil grumpy and moody tbh. You did have such a resting bitch face that wasn't helping either.

• Jason, being the noble boy he was, knew you were going to be his friend the moment you made a dramatic entrance to camp for the first time, getting scouted by the waves to New Rome. He knew what it was like to have a powerful, scary dad, but he acknowledged and empathized that you had it harder than he did. He was considered a golden boy, while you were considered a scary bad luck charm. But regardless of that, Jason was your first best friend. And eventually, your boyfriend.

• Reyna on the other hand, badly wanted to befriend you because she admired your mental strength, you were 9 years old and you were openly scoffed at by the legionnaires simply because your father was a scary man. Yet you handled it all so well. But she befriended you a little later than Jason did. Since she was so busy, she barely had any time to chat with anyone. You, Jason and Reyna bonded as a trio when you guys had your first quest.

• Reyna secretly shipped you and Jason from the very beginning lol, bc a Jupiter x Neptune union? Y'all were powerful and cute af together. The mutual pining drives her crazy though, like kiss already smh.

• Also, Nicknames! Your nickname was ALWAYS "kelp head" because your hair was wavy and shaped like seaweed lol. As much as you hated to admit it, the name fit a little too well.

• okay enough with the friendship stuff, let's talk about how much that bastard Octavian makes it his mission to make your life a hellhole. It isn't even funny anymore, he hated you from the very beginning. Not only because you were considered bad luck, it's because he envied that you were a direct descendant of such a powerful God, he couldn't even handle Jason's arrival, yours was just the last straw for him. He opposes your opinions in front of the whole senate + prevents you from getting elected as Centurion + attempts to prevent you from going on quests, bc he can't handle someone else taking the glory.

• He was also the reason you were put into the unpopular twelfth legion. The underdog legion. But Jason? That sweetheart made it worth being in the twelfth legion so you weren't complaining tbh.

• honestly? Octavian and you are famous in camp for your bickering though lol it's just always a back and forth between you and him, such burning rivalry and enmity. You LOVED roasting him and you were fucking great at it too. He deserved that for making you go though hell. You'd laugh like a maniac when he trips and he smirks when has the upper hand against you in senate discussions.

• Reyna is the only reason you both didn't beat eachother up at this point tbh

• once, Reyna came running up to you all panicky because Octavian went missing from camp. In response, you beamed and told her that you'd get the balloons ready in the dining hall for a grand celebration. Jason would burst out laughing lol.

• you'd steal his teddy bears and give them to younger campers, asking them to hide it from octavian. So the younger campers absolutely adore you, unlike the older ones.

• you are also quite the rebel in camp, JUST like Octavian predicted you would be, when you first came to camp. It was actually written in his auguries that the new child of Neptune arrival would be always shafting the rules, since the sea can't be controlled. It's in a nature for a Neptune child to walk their own pace (lol have you seen Percy??) That gave another reason for him to hate you.

• Even some of the lares in CJ would call you an abnormal roman bc you never acted like one. You were wild and temperamental.

This rule breaking tendency you had did earn you lots of punishments that included scrubbing the whole camp with a toothbrush. But it was worth it for you. Camp Jupiter sucked. And you were already in trouble, so what's a little more, right?

• you'd sneak out at night to explore New Rome, because again, the Romans had this weird bedtime curfew like. they have rules for every. Fucking. Thing. It pissed you off so bad. They wouldn't even let you explore the city at night? They were seriously wasting the beauty of the city, You'd definitely rope Jason in to break the rules with you. Like don't be such a goody two shoes smh. I feel like that's what attracted him to you in the first place. He's a goody goody boy with such a boring life, youd just make it interesting for him.

• besides, sneaking out is SO much easier when you can fly. So Jason is your personal airplane. The Jason Grace airlines.

• okay so after all your hardwork in the legion, you'd finally get elected to Centurion, after you successfully finished a quest to retrieve a lost Roman artifact, which was formerly Jason's position and he would become a co praetor with Reyna. But you were still very much disrespected in camp tbh, it just became an internalised thing for everyone to hate you at this point, Octavian was also great at putting your reputation under dirt, but you didn't really care anymore.

• now here comes the catch, Jason and you were sort of in a half-pining half-relationship situation, Before that jerk goes missing. because neither of you knew how to confess, and camp was SO strict when it came to relationships for some reason?? Like even dating has to be lowkey.

• you and Jason are totally the grumpy x sunshine trope lol except you're the grumpy, snippy and batshit one and jason is calm, levelheaded and optimistic one.

Perfect balance. Gosh your dynamic would be so cute :(

• you'd just be grumpily stomping around while jason stalks behind you, laughing lightly. You're super short compared to him aswell, so yeah it makes it funnier.

• You were in charge of welcoming Hazel to camp, since Jason and Reyna had some serious meeting stuff about the new prophecy Octavian told them about.

• poor hazel would be scared to death while meeting you, not just bc it's you, it's bc she just came back from the dead, so this is all rlly new for her.

• That's where you met him. Nico di Angelo. You'd bond over your shared mistreatment in camp. So you became homies w him fairly quickly. He saw you as this cool big sister he could have happy meals with talking abt life.

• you would be a little curious when he keeps disappearing off to somewhere tho, you knew he was lying about where he came from.

Okay part 1 of this is done, this was so long lol, part 2 would drop later, that's where you and Percy meet and stuff.

Update: part two is out! https://www.tumblr.com/somewhereinhogsmeade/746489087922520064/daughter-of-neptune-headcanons-list-part-two?source=share

[feyhunter78]

Among The Sun

Description: The Conqueror, the Ravager of Lands, He who deals in blood and war. Emperor Miguel and his armies have scoured the land, and now they have set their sights on your kingdom. Will you fall to the Demonborn's blade, or will a strange connection between you and Miguel turn the tides of fate? Ch 2

The castle is abuzz with gossip and fear, words passed along in secret, gates closed, doors bolted. You press your back to the wall, the heavy curtain hiding you from the servants passing by. No one will tell you anything, simply bid you to dress and make yourself presentable as if there was to be a banquet, or a ball, not a potential siege.

“I’ve heard he’s coming from the West, that he set fire to the River Atraites, that his men—his armies of demons marched upon the flames.” One says, her voice hushed and filled with fear.

“No, he is coming from the East, the mountains bowed to him and allowed him passage through.” Another whispers, stronger but still afraid.

The Conqueror, the Ravager of Lands, He who deals in blood and war. He would be arriving soon if the rumors were to be believed, and you are no fool, you believe them.

You don’t know much about the Conqueror, your only information comes from rumors or war reports, neither of which are helpful. The rumors come from pleasurehouses, fanciful tales of the emperor storming in, scouring the establishment and searching for a woman with y/h/c hair and y/e/c eyes. If one cannot be found, he is said to destroy the place, leaving terrifying claw marks and scorched bodies in his wake. If one can be found, the rumors say her cries of pleasure can be heard throughout the town and that she emerges from the encounter with only faint pleasant memories.

The war reports tell a different tale. They speak of him as merciless, tearing through men as if they are parchment, his armies moving as a perfect unit, no breaks, no faults, only skilled, relentless ruin. He is said to have claws and fangs, some say he has horns like a ram, and his eyes glow crimson. He is a terrifying sight to behold, half monster, half man, an abomination that has set half the continent ablaze.

You wait until their footsteps pass then slip from behind the curtain, hurrying down the hall to the throne room where your father, mother, and three brothers are set to gather. Instead, you stumble upon a horrid scene. Your father and brothers lie on the marble floor, bloodied and unmoving, your mother is draped over your eldest brother’s body, wailing wretchedly.

“Traitors to the crown, they have done this.” She shrieks, clinging to his body.

You’re frozen, staring at the carnage before you. True, you had no real fondness for your eldest brother, the gap between your ages was too far to bridge, but the others at least made an effort.

“What—what are we to do? Mother, you are queen, the Conqueror will be here, he will offer you what he offers every other window, you must be prepared.” You tell her, rushing to her side and attempting to pull her from your brother’s body.

She refuses to budge, shrugging you off. “I will not, he will not come here, we have nothing to offer.”

Your kingdom is not small, in fact it’s quite large, a port town, but your mother is right, it holds nothing that the Conqueror doesn’t already have. He has already captured the agricultural kingdoms, the larger trade kingdoms, and those who boast their stores of wealth and gems. His own lands that far-flung empire that declared him ruler after a bloody and horrid event, is rich in resources, the soil, and cities still boasting the remnants of Arcana. It is a wealthy and powerful force, wielded like an obsidian sword by the Conqueror.

“You do not know that, please, either we stay, and you take up your crown, or we flee to the ships.” You’re tugging on her arm, already formulating an escape route. But would you make it in time?

Your mother says nothing, only continues to weep and holds out her hand for her fallen crown. She has made her choice; she will doom you both to die here.

Your kingdom has fallen, the gates forced open, the crowns of your father and brothers thrown to the ground, their bodies lying beside them. There is no time to clean the throne room, you’ve received the reports, the Conqueror is mere minutes away.

The emperor is cruel, monstrous, a vile, wicked man who care only for conquest. You have heard the rumors, the whispers as his armies march across the lands, leaving death and destruction in their wake. And now he would be coming here, to give your mother the very same choice he gave to each former queen. Bend the knee, pay tribute, or watch your kingdom burn. Dozens of kingdoms have refused and burned, but your mother is not a warrior, she weeps over your father and brothers, laments their loss as your kingdom crumbles around you.

When the Conqueror comes, you fear the choice she will make, fear the rumors of the horrors that await those kingdoms gifted to the murderous emperor. You do not wish for your land to become a territory of the ravager, a sacrifice to the blood-soaked demon, Miguel the Conqueror, the Relentless, the Merciless, but you fear your mother will have no choice.

Miguel is bored, his fingers tangled in the hair of another whore as she moans, her face shoved into the pillows as she helplessly tries to fuck back on him. He has her bent over the bed, thrusting mindlessly as he starts out the window at this kingdom’s castle.

She is skilled, he will not deny it, but Miguel doesn’t simply desire skill, he desires the woman from his memories and dreams.

He lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes trying to picture you, his soulmate, his horizon, with your soft skin and stunning smile, the lilt of your voice, your tantalizing smell. He groans as the image forms, crystalline fractured fantasies, flashes of you, snatches of memories.

“Fuck, mi vida, you feel so good, wonderful, you are wonderful, my empress.” He sighs, his free hand settling on your—the whore’s hip, steadying himself before he pounds into her, picturing how pretty you’d look, grasping at the silken sheets he’s procured for you, whining as he smooths a hand down your spine.

You’d be so sweet for him, clinging to him as he fucks you, your pretty eyes fluttering closed, your lips parted so perfectly. He misses when he would see you in his dreams, when he would hold you for a moment before you disappeared like sand slipping through his fingers. Now all he sees when he sleeps is darkness, exhaustion hitting him like a horse.

“Please, Your Majesty, harder.” She begs, lifting her head from the mattress.

Her voice rips him from his fantasy, and he pulls out, tucking himself back into his breeches. “I asked you not to speak.”

She looks back at him, and he regrets not compelling her. She looks so much like you, the closest he’s found, but he shouldn’t have taken the chance.

He grabs her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You will remember none of this, only that you did your job and was paid handsomely for it.”

She nods, her shoulders drooping, eyes glazing over as his spell takes hold.

Miguel sighs and arranges her comfortably on the bed before leaving more than enough gold for her rudimentary services.

As he trudges down the stairs of the brothel, he’s met by his advisor, Lyla. She’s still in full armor except for those oddly shaped glasses that cover her eyes.

“It’s time.” She says, nodding towards the door.

Another kingdom to burn or capture, another fruitless search. Have the gods not dammed him enough? Have they not stricken him with this unholy visage, with these demonic powers, with a life of misery and death? You, you are the one he searches for, in your arms he will finally find rest, and if not, he will ensure it is so. There will be no kingdom for you to run to, no lands untouched by him, no bounty great enough to pull you from him, no powers beyond the divine will separate you, and even then, he has always desired to fight the gods.

He will offer this kingdom’s queen the choice he offers all others, waiting as they cower in fear, his eyes searching their court for you. But you are never there, and his anger only grows.

Perhaps this time will be different? Gabi would be fond of this land, would enjoy the flowers and streams. He prays that is a good sign.

TL: @not-aya, @belos-simp69, @deputy-videogamer, @sxnasbitch, @maxi-ride, @minimari415, @syndrlla97, @gejo333, @lady-necromancer

[cappulcino]

Seven Days Til Fall (Part 5)

Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3 – Part 4 – Part 5 – Part 6 – Part 7

Read on AO3 (you do need to be logged in, though)

Words: 5,533

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader

Summary: You're an angel sent on a divine mission to retrieve a powerful relic that has been stolen from Heaven. The orders are clear: gain an audience with the Devil, make deals with them if necessary, anything to return that object to the Silver City. But Hell is not quite what you expected, and neither is Lucifer.

Trigger warnings: None in this chapter.

You felt like the worst angel that had ever walked the luminous roads of the Silver City since the War. Your purity, gone in smoke like Squatterbloat had warned you it would in Hell; your light, dimming and slowly giving way to the darkness like Michael had feared; and your faith, far from unwavering after the conversation you had had with Lucifer and what you had found in the Library last night.

Doubt had done more than just plant its seeds inside your heart –it had taken root, sprouted, and turned your mind into a fertile soil for thoughts and questions you weren't supposed to have to grow.

After what happened with Gabriel last night, you had stayed in the Library, desperately trying to distract yourself from these thoughts and questions and to refocus on your mission, which you felt the need to see through as fast as possible so you could find your way back to God's Light and into the Archangels' good graces.

But the problem since yesterday was that, no matter how hard you tried, your thoughts always returned to Lucifer and their Fall somehow. Yet, you had refused to give up and had stayed in the Library in search of something –anything– useful to locate the Cup of Eternal Grace. Night had thus quickly stretched into morning, and you had missed matins, only to tell yourself it was for a good cause, that you could keep searching and go to the next Mass, and… miss lauds as well.

You were, decidedly, the worst angel of all Heaven.

Still, it seemed you hadn't spent all this time at the Library for nothing. The ancient scrolls and dusty volumes you had browsed there did contain some scattered references to the Obsidian Bazaar and the Shadows. The latter were said to be most active during moments of transition –at dawn, noon, and dusk. While twilight was most ideal, it seemed their presence could still be felt during other times of day, provided one knew what to look for.

Finding the Bazaar required not only knowledge of the Shadows’ movements but also a token of permission, usually given by one of the higher demons. But you still had Lucifer and their authorisation to come and go anywhere you wanted, you thought, so you didn't worry about this too much.

There was only so much old texts could tell you, though. You still needed more specific information about the demon responsible for holding the Cup, and that meant turning to someone who might actually know who it was. It was time to see Arakiel.

When you entered the Observatory, the vast space resonated with a gentle hum, and the glow of Divine Light shone through crystalline orbs, all focused on the world below. Arakiel stood in the middle of the room, their soft gaze fixed on Earth –some part of the Northern Hemisphere, you recognised–, an almost dreamy smile on their lips.

Arakiel was not like most Archangels –not like most angels, really. They were sweeter, more patient and more understanding than the others, rarely acted in the usual hypocritical angelic way, and their take on things was more nuanced. You often wondered if this was what Earth did to angels who had spent too much time there. Arakiel certainly had; they had almost gone native in a way and, more often than not, didn't even let their wings out when returning to the Silver City.

"Look!" the Archangel said in a whisper full of awe, frantically gesturing for you to get closer. "Just two days until the autumn equinox!"

You approached and looked down. Sure the colours were pretty and the humans seemed happy, but you couldn't help but think about the earthquake in which little Jeremiah had died yesterday, the political conflicts that had been reported in Africa, or the genocide in Palestine, and made a face. How could anyone have such a jolly attitude about Earth –or at least humanity? Evidently, things had gone quite awry on that planet. You preferred Saturn.

"Did you know that in some human languages, they call autumn the 'fall'?" Arakiel asked after a while. "Mostly it's North Americans, I believe. But there are also similar expressions in the Finnic languages, Danish, Croatian, Macedonian, uh… Polish as well. Oh, and Hindi, Malay, and–"

"How fascinating."

You had to cut the lecture short. Arakiel tended to get very passionate about mortal stuff, and there had been over eight thousand languages since God had destroyed Babel. You couldn't keep up and nor did you have time for it.

"Why are You telling me this, Your Grace?"

Arakiel blinked, clearly startled by your interruption, but their smile didn't falter. Instead, they chuckled softly, as if amused by your impatience.

"Oh, no reason, I suppose. I just find it awfully poetic. It makes me hope that they know that everything that is lost can be found, that those who fall are meant to rise again, and that those who died shall live once more, like Christ. It is how the Almighty intended it, an endless cycle of life."

"I see," you said slowly for lack of a better reply. The Archangel Arakiel was too dear to you to ruin their views with your newly formed opinion on the matter of falling.

"Funny story, I met Our Lord's son. A very kind and gay man, always smiling and–" This time, Arakiel stopped themself. "But you're not here to hear about my earthly tales, are you?"

"Well, not this one. I have come to you to ask about the Cup of Eternal Grace."

Arakiel's expression sobered, their light-heartedness fading as they turned to face you fully. 

"Ah. Yes, of course. The Cup." They tapped their chin thoughtfully. "The humans who had it were part of a cult, a branch of a group that calls itself 'The Family'. They traded it off in a bargain they barely understood."

"For what?"

"An amulet of protection –so they said."

"To which demon?" you pressed, eager to move on.

"Well, it's hard to say for sure. Demons can be tricky, they don't always present themselves as they are. But they told me this one looked like a woman and had two heads."

"Do You trust those humans?"

"Do you have one single better lead?"

You didn't, and so you would be going back to Hell with that one information and many prayers.

This time when you arrived in Hell, Mazikeen was waiting for you right behind the Gate of Damnation, her arms crossed and her gaze unwelcoming. You sighed heavily at her sight.

"What is it now, Mazikeen?"

"You will not be seeing the Morningstar today."

"No, you already tried that once on me," you said trying to dodge her. "I shall ask the ruler of Hell myself."

Mazikeen snatched your arm then, crushing it mercilessly in her hand.

"Not this time. Their orders were explicit, they do not wish to see you."

"Why?"

"Personal reasons."

You yanked your arm free from Mazikeen's grip and muttered a "Fine", hurt and disappointment hitting you harder than expected. Why would Lucifer suddenly refuse to see you so categorically? Was this about the kiss –or rather, your refusal of it? Lucifer had seemed quite vulnerable, yes, but you refused to believe they would let it affect them so much. Or were they really that resentful?

"The Lightbringer told me to get you to the Obsidian Bazaar. We have had demons tracking the Shadows for you since twilight. We might not effectively catch them until the next main solar event but–"

"Noon, yes. I know. The Silver City's Library possesses quite the extensive literature on Hell, believe it or not, and I have done some research."

"Ha!" Mazikeen scoffed. "You think your lot knows more about our own realm than we do? The Shadows have changed a lot since those were written."

"Either way," you said, trying to ignore her mockery, "I need you to take me to a demon first. The Archangel Arakiel has interrogated the humans who traded with Hell. Now, I am fairly certain that the Cup is no longer in that demon's possession, but I thought I might ask them who they sold it to at the Bazaar. It could save us some time."

Mazikeen's face still bore a smug expression as she thought you were too naive for your own good, but she decided to indulge you.

"And which demon is it?"

"I… have no idea," you confessed. "I only know they traded with a Christian cult and presented themself as a woman with two heads."

"Yes, because a demon with multiple faces and who likes to present feminine to seduce mortals sure narrows it down." She sighed, then revealed her best guess. "That would most probably be Enepsigos. An angelic artefact that can give visions sounds like the kind of object she would want to have."

"Good. Then take me to her."

Hours later, you had finally made it to the Obsidian Bazaar, but not without trouble. Enepsigos had been less than cordial, spitting insults in your direction before Mazikeen's blade at her throat and a reminder of what her sovereign had commanded a few days ago forced a little more cooperation.

She had given up the name of another demon who, in turn, had given you the name of another. By the time you finally found out which merchant demon to turn to at the Bazaar, you had already discovered five intermediaries who had all wanted the chalice for a different purpose.

Every little conversation and negotiation had taken more time than necessary, and going from one place to another had taken even longer considering that Mazikeen couldn't fly –and neither of you wanted you to carry her. You had almost missed the transition at noon because of that, but at least now you had something concrete.

At last, a merchant at the Obsidian Bazaar had offered what seemed like a breakthrough, claiming to have sold the Cup to Lahash. He was certain that Lahash was the final link in the chain, but when you asked Mazikeen to take you to him, she outright laughed at you.

She had already been snickering all morning, throwing out comments and cutting remarks that, in a way, reminded you of how certain Archangels –especially Gabriel– talked to you. You hated it of course but, being so close to your goal, you had decided not to make a big deal out of her relentless derision, attributing it to her fiendishness.

But that one throaty laugh was the last straw; you couldn't ignore it any longer.

"Why are you laughing?"

Mazikeen shook her head, her grin widening.

"I just enjoy watching you play Angel Detective."

"This is not a game, Mazikeen."

"Oh, it is for me. In fact, I believe it is for most of us here." She shifted her weight on one leg and brought her hands to her hips, still smiling. "But I am feeling generous today, and since I have spent enough time with you already, let me give my favourite feathery sleuth a hint and put an end to both our sufferings."

You doubted she had anything relevant to say, but you straightened your back and wings, ready to listen.

"Go on."

"Lahash does not have your chalice."

"Oh, for goodness' sake."

"He has not had it for a while now."

"But the merchant told us–"

"He told us everything he knew, there was no lie on his part. Lahash did have the Cup and now no longer has it."

"How would you know?"

"Because I witnessed the Morningstar snatching it from his hands myself."

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach as the revelation hit you like one of God's thunders. 

Lucifer had the Cup. All this time, while you had been running in circles around Hell, chasing ghosts, they had it in their possession. How… petty of them. Had you interrogated Lahash, he would have most probably never denounced his ruler, and you would have sooner found one particular grain of sand on Earth than the chalice.

As you tried to think of anything in Lucifer's behaviour that should have made you realise what was going on, you felt a wave of betrayal surge through you, sharper than anything you had ever known. Had everything they had done and said only been a way to distract you from your mission? Or were they trying to compensate for this low blow somehow? This was the Devil, anything was possible.

"What?" Mazikeen's smirk was insufferable as if she was savouring your frustration. "Are you going to cry? Do angels cry Holy Water, I wonder?"

Mazikeen was going too far and you were in so much pain that any remnant of angelic restraint left your soul that instant, and you decided that the best defence against her was attack.

"You think this is amusing, don't you? You are running errands for a coward who cannot even face me. What does that make you?" You took an ominous step closer. "You are just like your mother, Mazikeen –born to serve a greater being and always messing with the wrong people. And one day… you will be replaced and forgotten."

Mazikeen's smirk immediately faltered, her pride pricked, and she drew her sword in a swift movement to direct the tip of its blade at your throat.

"Careful, angel."

"Go ahead," you said softly, not even caring about your fate at that point. "I'm sure that would speed the process."

Mazikeen stood still, her sword still grazing your skin and her eyes never leaving yours. And then, slowly, she lowered and sheathed it, knowing that her life would be on the line if she made an attempt on yours.

"Mmh. Evidently, Lucifer cares just enough," you mused aloud, although you were now convinced it wasn't personal, that you just mattered as a pawn in the Devil's game. "Right. Show me the way out. I need to have a word with them."

"I told you the Morningstar does not wish to see you."

"Let me rephrase this: I will have a word with your master. Get me out of here."

There was a flicker of hesitation in Mazikeen's expression, but she quickly gave up, not wanting to spend any more time around you anyway, and led you out of the Obsidian Bazaar.

You had been flying over Hell for what seemed like an eternity in search of Lucifer whom you had been assured was not at the Palace. Your wings were frankly starting to tire and tears were prickling your eyes.

You felt betrayed. Correction, you had been betrayed, this was no mere impression. What you truly felt like was lost and alone. In less than a week, you had distanced yourself from Heaven, your whole kind and what they preached after finding out that you maybe had put your faith in the wrong people. Today you realised you had actually done that twice. Who was there left to believe? What side was there left to be on? You were on your own side now apparently, alone and stupid.

Starting to lose your patience, you turned off after the ruins of the Necromanteion to follow the Acheron, and there, sitting on the bank, you finally found Lucifer. They felt your presence, of course, and looked up at you before slowly gazing back down at the river. You saw them move as you descended, and it looked like they were wiping their face. But you were exhausted, your vision had got slightly blurry with the tears you had shed, so you couldn't be too sure.

"Lightbringer," you called out as you landed a few yards away and took quick strides to meet them. "We need to talk."

"So Mazikeen betrayed Us," they muttered, not even bothering to stand up.

"Yes. Betrayal. Hell's speciality, it seems."

With their back still turned to you, you noticed Lucifer lowering their head and their wings slumping a bit. Their refusal to look at you made you seethe.

"Get up and face me like a proper monarch."

Slowly, Lucifer shifted on their knees before rising in one fluid motion. When they then turned around at an even slower pace, you not only noticed that their stance was entirely devoid of confidence for the first time since you met, but you also realised that their eyes were red, as if they had been crying.

The sight hurt you more than you wanted to admit to yourself, but you had already your own pain to deal with –a pain Lucifer had caused– and you didn't want to let their supposed affliction torment you. For all you knew, this could very well be the result of sitting by the Acheron for too long.

"I thought You didn't lie."

"And indeed, We have not lied to you."

"No?" You almost snorted out of pure nervousness. "How long have You had the Cup?" Your question was only met with Lucifer's silence and pinched lips, so you insisted, "Am I not clear today? How long, Lightbringer?"

"A day and two nights." You could swear there was shame in Lucifer's quiet confession.

"You have kept it from me all this time and You call that not lying? You promised to cooperate."

"We promised to help you, yes. But the task was always your own. Our role was merely to guide you."

"So what? You intentionally left bread crumbs everywhere and You were simply going to wait for me to follow them back to You?"

"Yes."

"You serpent…"

The disdain in your voice made Lucifer flinch. You could have hardly found a worse insult to throw at them had you tried, but it was the hurt talking and the regret would only kick in later.

"Where is the Cup now?" 

"In Our quarters."

"Good. Let us go then. I am taking that chalice back to the Silver City. Right now."

You unfurled your wings, ready to take flight again when Lucifer's voice stopped you.

"We're afraid that will not be possible."

"Why not?"

Lucifer took a deep breath and clasped their hands in front of them to regain some of their usual composure.

"The Cup has been deconsecrated and cursed. You cannot have it in such a condition, We need to restore it to its heavenly glory, and it may take some time."

This time, you couldn't help a short snicker. "I think You have had enough time. Besides, Your Majesty will forgive me if I doubt They still have it in Them to perform that kind of miracle. Your brother, however, will manage, I'm certain."

Your words cut deep, but the Morningstar tried their best not to let it show.

"If We return the chalice as it is, We will have broken Our contract."

"The contract? Oh, that takes the biscuit. I read that contract too, I'll have You know, and I distinctly remember the full clause. 'The Signatories agree that upon successful retrieval, the chalice shall be returned to the custody of the Divine Council without alteration, corruption, or delay.' Was the 'delay' part not clear?"

"The fact remains that We need more time. There is no point in handing you the Cup if it is altered. It is too great of a risk."

"The only risk I see, Lightbringer, is for You to be denied access to the Silver City. So You best hope that the Divine Council never learns about what You did."

Lucifer clenched their jaw, offended and somewhat annoyed by your incessant barbs. Still, they chose to ignore them.

"We meant for you. We will not take the risk of putting such a vile artefact into your pretty angelic hands, nor do We wish for you to be accused of having failed in your mission. You have not."

"Do not pretend You care about me," you snapped. "Did it ever occur to You that I was running a race against time or that my position in the Orders was in jeopardy?" Lucifer's eyes widened, revealing their lack of awareness. "Of course not. Because You only care about Yourself. I mean, was any of what You told me, of what happened yesterday real? Any of it?"

"We–"

"Don't bother. I am not sure that I want to know. God, to think that I almost k–"

You cut yourself off, incapable of finishing that sentence, especially not after your very first blasphemy. Instead, you looked up at the orange sky then down at the ground, anywhere that was not Lucifer's reddened eyes.

"I am going home," you said after a while, making sure to use that particular word to refer to Heaven. "But I will be back before dusk to retrieve the Cup. That is all the time You get."

"You are welcome to stay here while We–"

"Absolutely not."

You turned around, fully intent on leaving, and lifted yourself off the ground with a few decisive flaps.

"You were right," Lucifer blurted out, hurrying closer to stand right beneath you, their eyes welling up as they raked over your body and immaculate wings.

"About what?" you asked, facing them once more but not bothering to land.

"It is lonely. Ruling Hell, dealing with all the pain that reigns here. But with you… We kept the Cup against Our better judgement because when you are here, life in Hell does not seem so lonely any more."

You blinked, and when you spoke again, your voice had slightly mellowed.

"So You had me come back every day because You need… company?"

"We suppose, yes."

Lucifer seemed so sincere and vulnerable, but the turmoil raging inside you didn't allow you to calm down enough to reply politely.

"I am not Your pet. There is Mazikeen for that. Good, faithful Mazikeen."

"But it is not Mazikeen We want! Is it so wrong that We wanted to keep you close?"

"You did not keep me close, Lightbringer, You kept me shackled to Hell! But no more. I will be back for the Cup, but after that…"

You let your voice trail off, incapable of finishing that thought. Deep down, even if you wouldn't admit it, you didn't want to have to say your final goodbyes. Because leaving Hell forever meant being on your own forever, feeling lonelier than you already did, and you were well aware that you were not as strong as the ruler of Hell to handle that loneliness.

Right now, you had to go. And so you left.

"Back so soon? We can only assume you gathered us here to share some good news."

"Or some terrible ones."

You had summoned the Divine Council as soon as you had arrived in the Silver City and you were now standing at the foot of a large pulpit from which the five Archangels –Gabriel and Uriel, who had just spoken, Michael, whose eyes were narrowing at you, and Azrael and Raphael– were looking down at you.

"Actually," you said with a bright smile that felt a bit forced, "it is good news. I found the Cup of Eternal Grace."

"Yet we see no Cup before us," Azrael commented, their voice sharp.

"Where is it?" Gabriel asked in his usual condescending tone.

"I, uh…" Your palms were sweaty and you wiped them on your robes. "I, unfortunately, had to leave it with the Lightbringer so that they could undo the spells that have been cast on it."

Michael was the one to speak then, his voice low and dangerous.

"So, you found the Cup… and left it in Hell when I specifically ordered you to bring it back quickly. Now the chalice is in my sibling's possession. What game are you playing exactly?"

It wasn't a question, more like an accusation. You opened your mouth to explain, but Raphael's cold laugh cut you off.

"How convenient for Lucifer."

"Indeed," Uriel added, their tone sharp. "We send you to retrieve the Cup, and instead, you come back with excuses."

"I shall bring it back before the end of the day, I promise," you insisted, trying to control the tremor in your voice. "But it needs to be restored first. The Morningstar said–"

"Lucifer says a lot of things," Gabriel interjected. "And you seem to be listening too much."

You flinched at those words and swallowed hard, your mind racing. You realised Gabriel had probably told his peers about what had happened last night in the forbidden section of the Library, and, suddenly, it became pretty evident that if you failed to bring the Cup back tonight, the consequences would be dire.

But weren't the Archangels supposed to be pleased? You had found the Cup, that was the most important thing –the promise that you would soon bring it back to the Silver City and succeed in your mission. Yet, instead of praising you, the Council was once again criticising you.

After feeling betrayed by Lucifer, you were feeling betrayed by your own kind, left wondering which side was truly the better one. Or rather, which one was the lesser evil. Because if this was the Light, you were beginning to wonder what darkness really looked like.

Michael stood up and leaned forward, hovering over you. And, at that moment, you felt more scared of him than you had been of his sibling on your first day in Hell.

"You will go back to Hell this instant. I do not want to see your face again until the Cup of Eternal Grace is in your hands and back in holy territory. Is that understood?"

You shivered and lowered your wings in submission.

"Yes, Your Grace. I will be back before–"

"GO!"

When you found them again, Lucifer was sitting behind their desk, the Cup before them, gleaming in a faint, otherworldly light. Their wings shifted slightly as they looked up from their work, their brows furrowed in confusion.

"We thought you did not want to stay."

"I did not," you muttered, stepping into the room but keeping your distance. "To be frank, I almost stopped by Earth to wait there until You were done, but I fear the Divine Council might be keeping a close watch on me now, so I had no choice."

"Why?" When you didn't answer but instead looked away, Lucifer immediately understood. "It is Our fault, is it not?"

Tears started to prickle your eyes, you fought them as hard as you could.

"I should not be so surprised," you said. "The Devil, causing pain, leaving torment in their wake… It was to be expected. But I am still disappointed. And hurt."

"Our sincere apologies…"

You nodded, signalling you had heard them, but you weren't sure whether you wanted to accept their apology. Either way, you didn't know what to say, so you walked to a nearby cushioned bench and sat there.

Lucifer didn't add anything at first, their attention drifting back to the Cup. Silence stretched between you for over ten minutes as they worked, after which they spoke again, their voice now even quieter.

"Are you not going to say anything?"

"I do not want to talk to You, Lucifer" you replied, your voice cracking a bit as you gave up on etiquette to call the monarch by their first name only. "I have lost my restraint and my patience, and I am too hurt to be kind for now."

"We understand."

You missed it because you were still avoiding their gaze, but Lucifer smiled ever so slightly despite their own ache, as they realised you didn't hate them enough to want to be mean to them. But the smile quickly vanished and they turned their focus back to the chalice.

Two hours had almost passed when they finally stood up and approached you.

"Take it," they said as they handed you the Cup, their tone almost empty. "It is done."

You stood up as well, your fingers brushing against Lucifer's as you took the artefact. For a very brief moment, you felt the warmth of their touch, but it vanished as quickly as it had come.

"There is still time before dusk. Do you… Do you perhaps wish to have supper with Us one last time?"

Both the hurt you felt and your reason told you to say no, but your heart soared, trying to convince you to say yes. Truth was, as much as you hated what Lucifer had done to you, as much as you blamed the Lightbringer for your pain, you didn't really want to part on bad terms and you rather dreaded going back to Heaven. And so you hesitated.

"I cannot stay," you eventually decided, knowing the risk was too great. "I am fairly certain the Divine Council already believes I have been buying You time. I need to go and give them the Cup. And after that, I do not wish to hear about it ever again."

Pinching their lips, Lucifer nodded. They looked so sad, so vulnerable. Could it be that they felt guilty? Part of you wished they did, but you didn't have time to dwell on that. You had to go.

There was one last thing you felt the need to say, however.

"I would have lied for You, You know. In fact, I already did in more ways than one." Lucifer's eyes widened a bit and you saw it, the hope. "For some inexplicable reason, I even find it easy to hide and twist the truth for You. Because You opened my eyes to so many things and I blindly put my faith in You. But You betrayed it and have made me feel stupid. And so that doesn't make You any different from Your brother and his clique."

With that said, you turned to leave but before you could cross the threshold, you heard Lucifer's voice behind you, quivering and pleading.

"Will you forgive Us?"

It wasn't just a question –it was a cry, a desperate, fragile thing that echoed through the room and pierced your heart. Your throat tightened, your wings tensed, and for a moment, you considered turning back. But the hurt inside you was too great, too raw, and when you finally spoke, your voice was distant and almost cold.

"Peace be upon You, Lucifer Morningstar."

You didn't wait for a response. With the Cup clutched in your hand, you straightened your wings and left, certain you would never see the ruler of Hell ever again.

As you flew through the Silver City, your movements shy but quick, you received many looks and comments to congratulate you on the success of your mission. You ignored them or merely answered with a fleeting smile, and found your way to Michael's office.

You cleared your throat and held out the Cup as you entered, relieved to hand over that wretched chalice.

"I have brought the Cup, Your Grace. As promised."

It seemed Michael had been waiting for you. His back turned and his hands clasped behind him, he was staring out across the clouds.

Then he turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as they landed on the Cup. He stepped forward, taking it from you without a word. His gaze flickered over the artefact before he gave you a slight nod, though his face remained unreadable.

"You may leave now," he said, waving you off.

"Uh… But… Your Grace, the other day You told me–"

"Yes, yes. The Council shall discuss your case."

You blinked. No praise. No recognition. The promise of a promotion seemed further away than ever, and you wondered if it had ever been real to begin with. Your wings drooped slightly as you turned to go.

Just as your hand reached for the door, Michael's voice stopped you.

"Oh, before you leave."

"Yes?"

"You have not told us this morning. When exactly did you find the Cup, and where?"

You gulped audibly as the question made you question where your loyalties truly lied and whom you wanted to put your faith in –if there was anyone or anything left to put your faith in.

You stood in silence for a second that felt like a lifetime and when you replied to the Archangel, your voice was miraculously steady, though your heart felt anything but.

"I found it today, not long after noon. But like I said, I had to leave it in Your sibling's care so that they could restore it and ensure it would be returned without alteration, as per the contract that bound them to You."

Michael watched you closely, his gaze piercing, but then offered the tiniest smile.

"Very well. You may go, you are no longer needed. And you have my blessing to miss Mass –you need rest more than anything."

You furrowed your eyebrows finding the offer somewhat strange, and the formulation rather ambiguous, but you smiled and nodded, then turned once more to exit Michael's office.

You stepped through the threshold, and before you could take a single breath of relief, a sharp pain hit the back of your head. Your vision blurred as your knees gave out and you collapsed to the ground.

And there was evening, and there was morning –the fifth day.

[pistachiofiasco]

bathtubs, haircuts, storms

Pairing: Gilbert von Obsidian x Reader Genre: fluff, soft hours Words: 736 Warnings: n/a

Also on AO3!

here's another little thing for my beloved little menace man. fun fact but i wrote this before the forever with you story event but i wasn't sure about the characterisation. I cannot describe the vindication I felt at the discussion Gilbert and MC have about trust lmao

"I should learn how to cut hair, so I can trim yours when you need it." He gave a quiet hum, unresponsive for the most part.

You couldn't see his face from this angle, had expected more of a reaction, maybe one of those delighted smiles for when you showered him with attention. Rinsing his hair, letting hair as black as obsidian (hah) slip between your fingers, you frowned lightly at a sudden thought. "Nevermind actually. You probably wouldn't feel comfortable letting anyone bring anything sharp near your neck."

You'd said it mildly, as lightly as the real un-offended feelings behind it, but as you turned to reach for the next bottle, you felt him shift beneath your fingers. Glancing back, you found him leaning his head back over the rim of the bathtub, mismatched eyes locked on you.

Oh, we're veering into sulking territory.

You raised an eyebrow at him, smiling softly at the pout on his lips.

"Do you think, in this situation, that you're just anyone, little rabbit?"

"I'm not," you agreed, settling back into your seat and cupping the back of his head against the cold porcelain. "But you still don't trust me as much as you love me."

The pout slipped off his lips now. His face had the blank mask on again, the one where you always got a little too close, a little too quickly. His eyes were still locked on your face, and by now it was so easy for you to see the whirlwind behind them. He'd turn the tables soon, re-establish his control over the situation, redirect your attention, lock down the fear with a genial smile, like he has done for so many years.

It didn't bother you most of the time; you knew it for what it was. And you'd already promised to spend the rest of your lives proving he didn't need to with you. In this moment, it felt like as good a time as any to remind him of that.

Before the maelstrom could pick a direction, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his wet forehead. Lingering, you smiled against his skin as your noses bumped lightly.

"Maybe I'll learn anyway." One hand still holding the back of his head, the other brushed back the strands sticking to the sides of his face. Another kiss to his nose, you sat back up. He was still looking at you (he was always looking, always, long before you ever even knew). "So that when I prove I'm right, you'll be comfortable enough to let me."

It was like being in the eye of the storm, a momentary pause in all the chaos and confusion. You'd managed to surprise him (you were quickly becoming hooked on the thrill you got when he looked at you like that, wide eyed and lips parted, especially when what followed it was that boyish grin that you knew hadn't changed from the past, even if you'd never seen it). You smiled, grinned really. Red and blue eyes had settled. This one was your win.

You gently tipped his head back up, fingers lightly working through the soft black to scratch at his scalp, just barely grazing his ears. The slightest flinch and a hand shooting up to grip your fingers. You froze, wondering if you'd pushed just too far so soon. But he simply tugged your hand forward, pressing it against his lips in an approximation of a kiss. You took it for the acquiescence it was, smiling wider. This close, leaning forward, you laid another few kisses on his head, against his cheek, finishing with just the lightest, mildest little nip at his shoulder.

The regret was immediate. You yelped as his teeth sank into your finger, a sharp "Gilbert!" ringing out, and you saw just a flash of his grin over his shoulder, mischief in his eyes, as he pulled you bodily into the tub, clothes and all. Spluttering, spitting soapy bathwater and your own (now very wet) hair, you could hear him laughing, the sound clear as a bell, echoing in the room. Not bothering to bite back your own grin, you splashed him, trying to stand, complaining loudly as he wrapped his arms firmly around you, dragging you back into the warm water, pressing his cold nose against your neck.

And the storm came and went, like it usually did these days.

the man has trust issues and we need to work on them, slowly but surely. I just wanted to give him some pampering, maybe during his recovery period, while he's still having small fits/bouts of weakness

[bunnyhugs77]

✮BunBun's WIPs✮

✮Welcome to my garden of wips. Here you can see all the stories I'm working on and sometimes even their release date. This list can include timeline updates for both series and one-shot posts.

✮This list will not include drabbles since those quick works are usually written in a very short period of time.

✮Enjoy :)

-BunBun

Daddy Daycare 3

Technician! Jungkook x Teacher Assistant! Reader: Uh oh! Looks like Jungkook's ex-wife is back in town and more than ready to stir up the pot, but it seems she is not the only obstacle the two must face.

Cosmos

Quarterback! Jungkook x Class President! Reader: You've got one chance to save the diner before it shuts down for good. Being class president and a good best friend, you were going to make sure it stays open. If only that handsome hunk of a quarterback would get out of your way.

Obsidian 13

Police Officer! Reader x Jungkook: You take your job very seriously, and that doesn't change when you're tasked with the dangerous mission to go undercover with the most dangerous gang of the century. You have to watch your back and guard your heart, but with Jungkook, that's easier said than done.

Bittersweet Summer

Head of Operations! Jungkook x Rich Girl! Reader: He fell first then he fell even harder. This is not your average country club romance. Jungkook was doing just fine until you came back from boarding school with a trail of mixed signals and a stolen kisses behind you.

[forlorn-crows]

𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒚 3: 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆

pairing(s): aether/mountain words: 1318 EDIT: now with art from @cryptid-stuff !!

✿

“You’ve got to release all this, starlight,” the earth ghoul insists, prodding at the tension in his neck, his upper back. Some of it’s normal muscle tightness from playing, but Mountain knows there’s other, nastier things lingering between those tendons. Supernatural stress and magick that’s built up over weeks of healing and loving and caring for others.

The hurt he takes away has to go somewhere—and Aether’s learned the hard way that the things he takes on eventually have to be expelled. 

It’s a painful process, one that can’t be done without some help. In today’s (stubborn) case, the tough love variety. 

Mountain makes a questioning noise, looking over Aether’s shoulder at his face. “You’ll let me help?”

The quint ghoul sighs, tired and sore down to the bone. He really doesn’t want to do this right now. Not with his upcoming duties. 

“Darling, if you don’t let me do it now, you’re going to fizzle out on us,” Mountain reminds him, kindly yet sternly. He places a kiss on his temple and whispers: “I have the time and the energy. Let me do this for you now.”

Aether sighs heavily. Wishing the tension would flow out with it. “Okay,” he says after a beat. 

Mountain kisses him again, pats his shoulders. “Shirt off. Preference for incense this time?”

“The one that always smells fresh, with the . . . the, uh . . .”

“Verbena?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“‘Course.” Mountain gets up to gather supplies, leaving Aether to remove his shirt and settle into the floor cushion. 

Thankfully, it’s peaceful today. Quiet. He listens to the earth ghoul rummage around in the curio cabinet. The air in the greenhouse is warm, tinged with the smell of fresh-blooming petunias and magnolias from just outside the rain-dirtied windows. Aether closes his eyes and breathes it in. Rolling his neck and tuning into his body and the pain that hangs on his frame like an ill-fitting garment. 

Behind him, the scratch of a match being lit. Touched to charcoal and snuffed out on the worn bench top. 

“Have to let it burn a bit. Here, for your lap.” Mountain hands him a black stone that spans the width of his palms, cool to the touch and polished smooth. Obsidian, if he remembers correctly. Or tourmaline, maybe? He isn’t so good with the names, but he knows to place it in the middle of his loosely crossed legs, at the bottom of an imaginary line drawn down from the tip of his nose. Helps channel the energy, Mountain had said once. 

“Do you need anything else?” the earth ghoul asks in a soft voice. 

“No, ‘m alright.”

“Okay.” Mountain smooths his hands over his bare shoulders, raising goosebumps with each tender pass. When he runs his palms along his spine, he tuts. Hovers over a spot right under his ribcage. “That’ll be a tough spot,” he sighs. 

Aether nods in agreement. ���Yeah, don’t know why it decided to settle there this time.”

“I’ll be as careful as I can, starlight.” It’s a promise he doesn’t have to vocalize, of course. Aether knows he will be, despite the strenuous task ahead of them both. “But we’ve got to get it done.”

The lack of crackling behind them signals that the charcoal is ready for the incense to be added. Mountain gets up to do so, and Aether sinks back into the calmness of the greenhouse atmosphere. A tiny square of light falls on his knuckles as he shifts on the cushion; he can feel the slight difference in heat move across his skin as he dips his hand in and out of the fractal. Zeroing into the moment, the calm before the storm. 

Before long, fragrant curls of smoke fill the space; tendrils of orange peel and lemongrass, jasmine and the tiniest hint of vanilla. And of course, the verbena tying them all together. All scents to help set the intention for cleansing and re-centering. 

“Ready?” Mountain asks, returning to sit behind him.

“Now or never, I guess,” Aether laughs tiredly.

The earth ghoul sets the bottle of oil next to them; a slightly amber liquid with sprigs of eucalyptus and buds of juniper berry suspended within it. His own blend, of course. He fills the well of his palm with the oil, rubbing in steady, counterclockwise circles as he warms it. Aether doesn’t have to see his face to know it’s firm with concentration, eyes closed and lips moving with unspoken words. Setting intentions before even touching the oil to his skin. 

Eventually, his hands make their way to his head, and the massage begins. Mountain rubs the oil into his scalp, starting at the very top between his horns, working his fingertips down to the crown, the occipital bone, and the nape of his neck. The way he works the oil is like following the pattern of rain down the stem of a flower, manipulating the tension—and the negative energy that goes along with it—towards the ground. 

It would be easy to lose himself in the sensation, if it weren’t for the emotional and physical force it takes to drain this pent-up byproduct of quintessence use. It sits deep down in the muscle, harboring pain. The longer it sits, the more effort will be required to siphon it back out again. Extraction rituals are usually painful, and in rare cases, near incapacitating. 

Swiss and Mountain, and on occasion, Omega, see to it that it never reaches that point.

“Breathe,” the earth ghoul whispers, shifting up onto his knees. The pressure comes on his exhale, bearable but targeted. Mountain digs into the tightness at the base of his neck, twin points on either side of his spine that hold until the muscle begins to release. Aether hisses through his teeth. 

“Bit more . . .'' Mountain sighs along with him when he feels things shift, however slight. His hands move further away from his spine, and he digs into another spot, working his way down the slope of his traps. Push and breathe, constrict and release. Mountain continues until he’s reached the curve of his shoulders, pausing to drip more oil into his palms. 

Doing alright? The lilt of Infernal on his tongue is warm, comforting.

Yes, Aether replies softly. He’s beginning to ache, but it’ll only get harsher from here. 

Mountain hums. Think loose, he whispers, aiming for levity. 

Aether chuckles and shakes out his shoulders. Wish that was all I had to do.

Then you wouldn’t get my hands all over your oily body.

You are making it sound far more pleasurable than it actually is, love. 

“Touché.” 

Aether snorts at the purposeful break from their native tongue. Come on, start jabbing me with your knobby drummer’s hands. The sigh Mountain gives is equivalent to a verbal eyeroll, and he places his hands, renewed with warm oil, back on the quintessence ghouls’ shoulders. 

I promise you a warm bath and a full night of cuddles for the impending torture. 

It’s silent as they focus on the task at hand—well, apart from the pained groans from Aether and the occasional grunt from Mountain. It’s hard work, plain and simple. A never ending cycle of heal, absorb, expel; a cycle that inherently relies on others. Quintessence is a funny thing, though, in that it will build up from disuse, too. It will beg with its weight sitting on the bones of one’s vessel to be used, to flow. The holder of the magick will have to eventually release the excess, essentially wasting it, dumping it out of an overflowing bucket. 

In that sense, Aether would much rather endure the pain of sharing, if it means connection over isolation. It’s a principle he clutches as tight as possible when Mountain’s hands start feeling like knives along his shoulders and down his back, when all he wants to do is sob and scream fuck your strong hands straight back to Hell.

𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✿