#seeing this and pausing to process only to land on the bit where hes doing that weird little powerwalk knocked the air outta me

[moonie-presence]

LMAO?

[inkspiredwriting]

payback

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

A/N: This was a request. As always, feel free to say if you liked it, even if you didn't, please tell me.

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves was not a man easily rattled. He'd seen the end of the world, faced off against assassins, and outwitted time itself. But there was one person in the universe who could consistently throw him off balance, and that was his wife, Y/n.

It was a lazy Saturday morning, the kind where the world felt slow and peaceful. Five and Y/n were lounging in the living room, the sunlight streaming through the curtains, casting a warm glow over everything. Five had his nose buried in a book, his usual brooding expression softened in the comfort of home.

Y/n, on the other hand, was in a mischievous mood. She had been plotting a little prank for weeks, ever since Five had teased her relentlessly about a minor kitchen mishap that had left their kitchen covered in flour. He’d insisted on calling her "Flour Queen" ever since, and she figured it was time to get a little payback.

"Five," Y/n said, her voice deliberately serious as she folded her hands in her lap.

"Mmm?" Five replied, not looking up from his book.

"We need to talk."

Something in her tone made Five pause. He looked up, brow furrowing in concern. "What’s wrong?"

Y/n took a deep breath, putting on her best somber expression. "I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and… I think we should get a divorce."

Five blinked, his brain momentarily short-circuiting as he processed her words. "A… a what?"

"A divorce," Y/n repeated, keeping her voice steady despite the laughter bubbling up inside her. "It’s just… I don’t know if I can do this anymore."

Five’s book slipped from his hands, landing on the floor with a thud. He stared at her, his usual composure cracking. "Y/n, what are you talking about? Why would you want a divorce?"

Y/n bit her lip, struggling to maintain her serious expression. "Well, for one, you never help with the dishes."

Five blinked again. "The dishes?"

"Yeah, and you’re always leaving your socks everywhere. And don’t even get me started on your time travel obsession. I just… I need more in a marriage, Five."

Five’s eyes widened as he frantically searched for words. "I… I can do the dishes! And… and I’ll put my socks away! We can talk about time travel less—wait, is this about the flour incident? Because I was just joking, Y/n. You know I love you more than anything!"

Y/n pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. She could see the genuine panic in Five’s eyes, and it was almost too much to bear. But she wasn’t done yet.

"It’s not just that, Five," she continued, her voice wavering just enough to make it believable. "I just feel like… like you don’t appreciate me anymore."

Five stood up, moving to her side with a desperation she hadn’t seen since the apocalypse. He took her hands in his, his grip firm but gentle. "Y/n, that’s not true. I appreciate you more than anyone. You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel… human. I can’t lose you. Please, let’s talk about this. We can work it out, I promise."

Y/n could barely hold it together now. The sight of Five, normally so calm and collected, practically pleading with her was both heartbreaking and hilarious. She took a deep breath, deciding it was time to end the prank before Five actually had a meltdown.

"Five," she said, her voice softening, "I’m just messing with you."

Five froze, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What?"

"I’m kidding, Five," Y/n said, unable to keep the smile off her face any longer. "I don’t want a divorce. I was just getting you back for all the ‘Flour Queen’ jokes."

For a moment, Five just stared at her, processing what she had said. Then, as realization dawned, his expression shifted from shock to something between relief and exasperation.

"You… you little—" Five started, but he was cut off by Y/n’s laughter.

She threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest as she giggled uncontrollably. "You should’ve seen your face! You were so serious!"

Five let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his heart still racing from the scare she had given him. But as Y/n’s laughter filled the room, he couldn’t help but smile. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

"You’re evil, you know that?" he muttered, but there was no real anger in his voice.

"Maybe a little," Y/n admitted, looking up at him with a playful grin. "But you deserved it."

Five shook his head, still in disbelief that he had fallen for her prank. "I really thought you were serious."

"I know," Y/n said, her smile softening as she reached up to touch his cheek. "But seriously, Five… I love you. And I’m not going anywhere."

Five’s heart swelled with affection as he looked into her eyes, filled with warmth and mischief. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. "I love you too, Y/n. But if you ever scare me like that again, I might have to time travel just to get even."

Y/n laughed, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. "Deal."

Five sighed, finally relaxing as the tension melted away. He knew that life with Y/n would never be boring, and honestly, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

They spent the rest of the day together, the earlier scare quickly forgotten as they settled back into their usual rhythm. Five couldn’t help but chuckle every now and then, still amazed at how Y/n had managed to pull one over on him.

As they curled up on the couch that evening, Y/n resting her head on Five’s shoulder, he glanced down at her, a smirk playing on his lips. "You know, I was this close to agreeing to anything just to make you stay."

"Good to know I have that power," Y/n teased, poking him in the side.

Five chuckled, pulling her closer. "Just don’t abuse it too much, alright?"

"No promises," Y/n said with a wink.

And as the evening sun set, casting a warm glow over them, Five realized that he had found something far more valuable than anything time travel could offer—a love that was playful, strong, and endlessly surprising.

[aniqua]

error: b3n3v013nt | yandere!qimir x droid!reader

✧content: 18+ mdni, f!reader, smut, angst, overstim, p in v, mean qimir, dacryphilia, pathetic dom qimir, mentions of character death, edging, punishment, condescension, toxic relationship, reader and the waterworks

✧note: chasing the clock before I head to my job. no grammar checks until later, we die like girlbosses.

✧word count: 4.8K

✧series masterlist

The defense protocols of your system registered the angle of attack the instant Qimir decided to send you a punch. So when you dodged it, you anticipated to be in the clear. However, it was foolish of you to be sloppy. It was a strike that wasn’t in your field of view that took you down. You felt him swipe you from under your feet, resulting in you impacting the mat for the sixth time. Even with all your effort, your intelligence couldn’t make up for the experience he had over you. Your only solution was to whine as you lay on the mat and watch him stand over you with a smirk that fostered frustration in your thoughts.

“Can I activate self-defense?” you said with all the petulance you could manufacture. Activating self-defense meant activating your strength which you understood was one of the many reasons why it was your third time requesting permission in the first place.

Qimir took your hand and brought you back up so effortlessly to stand parallel to him. “And what’re you gonna do if you end up in a situation where you can’t? A glitch isn’t likely–”

“But the possibility is never zero,” you recited in defeat as you recalculated your plan of attack.

“Ready?” Qimir asked as he returned to a defensive stance. His biceps were promising to break his longsleeves yet he seemed entirely in control of every contraction and relaxation of his muscles. You nodded and anchored your feet ready for your next round. 

Qimir went for a few simple swings and weak spots to reinforce your learning. As you blocked each attack and tried–but failed–to land your own, you felt the intensity increase. You made a concerted effort to lock in your focus even as you watched him move like rushing water. It felt like solving equations as variables were rapidly being changed. It all came to a head when he secured a hold on your wrists and pinned both of your hands behind your back.

All the falling came to a stop as you listened to him catch his breath while you mimicked his breath even though there was no reason for you to. It was a force of habit.

As Qimir stood there with his chest against your back, he couldn’t resist drawing a bit closer to let your scent wash over him like a prize for victory. He had you cornered which excited the pedagogue. Not a moment with you did he not use every opportunity to abuse the proximity that he would always have a hand in orchestrating. To indulge, he placed himself in between where your neck and shoulder met.

“Is this a part of the lesson?” you asked as your eyes danced around.

“I hope not,” he said and went for a kiss to your neck. “Do you plan for anyone else to do this to you?” he asked in between each kiss’s breath. You were getting better at reading between the lines he wrote but sometimes it took you a while. The pause to process earned you a playful bite on your neck that had you leep from your skin.

“Qimir,” you called. He still had your arms pinned.

“You didn’t answer the question,” he taunted through playful tight lips.

“No,” you answer.

“Good,” you could hear him smile even if you didn’t see it. He landed a final kiss on your cheek and then spoke a few words into your ear. “[Name], activate self-defense,” he whispered.

Your back straightened on demand as your eyes flashed white.

Without any further instruction, you elbowed Qimir with enough force to knock him far back enough to meet the nearby wall. You hadn’t seen the collision but the thud and followed groan was enough for you to use inductive reasoning.

“Qimir!” you gasped as you ran.

“I’m good,” he sported an unconvincing smile while holding his side. You started reaching for him. “I’m fine,” he interrupted as he held out a hand. “Good girl,” he praised with a gentle pat on your cheek that made you forget your motor skills. “You followed orders.”

“May I help?” you asked carefully as you took his hand.

~

As much as Qimir wanted to refuse your help in exchange for engulfing you in his sheets with a tight hug until the pain went away, there were certain things he had to let you do. When you had something to do, it kept you from getting antsy and asking hard questions.

“Would you like me to remove your shirt?” you asked as you placed down your collected materials.

“There’s a sexier way to say that,” he bantered as he started lifting the hem of his long sleeve.

“Unfortunately, I’m aiding with medical assistance,” was all you could manage to say without causing your outputs to spike too high.

Qimir simply hummed in response. You watched in wonder as his crafted physique came out of the item. His body stretched and then relaxed when he had finished tossing the fabric aside. A faint but present bruise decorated the skin that sat where you had elbowed him.

“Bruising detected over LLQ,” was what he heard as he marveled at your features. The way your hands ghosted over the surrounding skin to have a better look at the damage made Qimir hungry but he was good at being patient. 

“Apply this for fifteen minutes by the hour for the next 24 hours.” You handed him a cold sack of solution.

Your laser focus took you from a concerned lover to a professional healer. It provided a sense of deja vu to one person among the two. He let you continue as you made your way to his back for further inspection without thinking too deeply. Even Qimir had a recent tendency to escape off to other places only to be brought back by the next inconvenience he saw as a fire. This time it took on the form of a soft finger tracing along his scar. The sensation ghosted his skin and possessed his thoughts like a haunting apparition. An uncanny familiarity made him scared to look behind to see who he’d find. He jolted out of the chair once he had processed the check in his leg. 

“That’s enough of that.” He made the extra effort to sound light-hearted.

“Your scar,” you said timidly. He didn’t like the way your eyes twinkled when you spoke. 

You didn’t mean to touch but when you had come face to face with a vine running across his skin, for some reason, you almost wished to kiss it.

“Oh, yeah,” he started reaching for his sack. He was cursing himself for forgetting that you hadn’t actually ever seen it. He didn't know how to show you for fear of you digging. “I’ve always had it,” he lied like you couldn’t differentiate scars by type. But your deep learning told you to drop it.

“I haven’t finished,” you insisted as he put on his shirt.

“I’ve got a head out anyway. Don’t wanna be late,” he scrambled. “Don’t open the door.” He put on his robe. “Your new books are in the box by the bookshelf,” he said as he grabbed a few coins from a drawer. He gave your forehead a kiss and he was gone.

~

You hated when he left you alone because you were left to spend your time waiting for his return hoping he would come back like he promised.

Deep into the night, you had exhausted all your options for entertainment. Five hours had passed and you weren’t even finding the holonet to be any bit entertaining. The sounds of programs zipping by at your command. The background sounds weren’t even all that comforting. That’s how you found yourself dusting the trinkets throughout the home for the fourth time that week. You went from the ground floor shop to the living room, until you traveled up another set of stairs. 

As you returned the mats to their rightful spots, you couldn’t help but peek at the room across the hall. With an empty and active imagination, restricted areas were starting to appear like uncharted waters. The door of the room that you were told to never enter had been left open by the smallest sliver that only an eye like yours could catch.

It was an enticing predicament. Another moment that tested your control over your new emotions. What was once an easy order to fulfill became a sign of your growing flaws. You convinced yourself that you initially walked toward it because you wanted to close it yourself. After all, how could you ignore an opportunity to be of help? Your journey crossing the hall with very careful steps was marked with you repeatedly justifying each move forward.

By the time you reached the door, you should have none better than to let that be your first act of blatant defiance but you chose to override your orders. You were willing to widen the gap if it meant satiating your curiosity.

Your plan was to express that it was an honest mistake. However, nothing could have prepared you for what your eyes would catch. It was something that you never going to be able to feign ignorance toward. 

You stood grounded as you watched Pandora’s box. The first things to come out were the piles of paper that were scattered across the floors and on the walls. Though the space was dark, it was half illuminated by the light of the hall and the other half by the main source that operated in the center. A chamber of sorts that lets you see the entity at the bottom of the box. You’d open a box to find yourself in it. There you were with shut eyes in the chamber.

You almost dropped at the site. There were no distorted mirrors but you were staring at a reflection of yourself that was much paler, much quieter, and entirely clueless to your discovery. The was no expectation for what you found and all your algorithm could say was to turn back from the potential threat. Yet, it was too late now to pretend like you hadn’t seen anything. 

So you took your first step outside of the cave and further inside the room. Your vision combed over the oddity and tried to analyze what exactly you had found. Every aspect of your system was searching, cross-referencing, and calculating. Anything to make sense of what you were witnessing. 

Despite your protest, your other self looked everything like you. The only difference was the makeup and the state of being. You saw yourself peppered with crystals of ice all over you once you drew closer to the shining blue lantern like a moth. Just in time for this discovery, your search found the lantern to be a nitrogen chamber.

Your focus denied surrounding books, scribbled theories, and torn pages on reanimation. As you overlooked your surroundings, you made first contact with your alien as you brought your hand against the glad. With your wide eyes that reflected the blue, your first tears crawled out of one corner. It was a peculiar reaction that you hadn’t initiated but your first chance of self-reflection was interrupted.

“What are you doing?” Qimir’s voice cut through the room. He sounded close but you were hesitant to turn around when his question sounded too still.

“You’re home,” was all you could muster out as you carefully turned around to see him.

“[Name]–” his lips formed a hard line in the sand.

There were only a few ways you could soften the oncoming crash so you rushed to say, “The door was open and I was just closing–”

“I ordered you not to never go in here.” you didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened.

You had no defense to his words as you just watched an oncoming asteroid in silence. “Get out,” he said.

“I’m so–” you pleaded as you started to approach him. Perhaps you could have appealed to his understanding but he stopped you from getting any closer. Qimir reached for the back of your neck and held you from there.

“Get out,” he punctuated every word as you felt his strength lift you a bit off the ground. “Before I sell your scraps,” he hissed and dropped you instantly.

On first landing, you wasted no time and went scurrying down the stairs for your charging station. You connected immediately in the hopes that you wouldn’t have to face him for the rest of the night or the rest of your life.

~

Unbeknownst to you, Qimir never left the room even as the night progressed. He stayed in prison even as he slept. At a floor below, as you charged, you played footage of the encounter just once for deep learning but then over and over again. You watched every angle and projected all that you could even as the sun rose. Even when you sensed Qimir’s stares in your off-state, you never woke up. 

It was during the evening when you finally reencountered him. You stayed on the platform in shame until he came up and through the doors. His first appearance back and he looked as mundane as ever. It unsettled your common sense. There were no clear signs of anger or disappointment. The only difference was the darkness in the skin under his eyes but you weren’t going to comment on it.

“Honey, I’m home,” he joked as he threw his things aside. With clear confusion in the processing face you made, he gave your cheek a brief pat after his approach and left you to sort it all out on your own.

You watched him pretend to play house as he moved about the house getting tasks down. Through it all, you never joined in. You remained seated for instruction which made you harbor the feeling of tension all alone. So you escaped once more like the coward who made you and went into sleep mode.

Three hours had passed when you returned and he was on the balcony alone with an empty flask that barely gave warmth since he held down his alcohol too well. His back was to you so he didn’t see you come to consciousness, but as he taught you, you took the window of opportunity in his vulnerability to take another step into the light.

You snake behind him “Qimir?”

He turns his hand in acknowledgment. “You’re awake,” he says with a bit of a grin.

“I was updating,” you lied

“What did you do today?” he simply put.

You couldn’t read him when he was like this. There was a chance that he was baiting you but you were steadfast on asking the questions that were driving you insane. You were set on making yesterday as painful for him as it was for you. At least that’s how you saw it. You intended to go down kicking and screaming until you were reduced to bits of metal if it resulted in helping your distaste for the unknown.

“Qimir,” you called once more.

“Hm?”

“Can I,” you pause. “What did I see yesterday?”

He couldn’t be bothered to pretend to answer your question as he went silent and walked back inside.

“Qimir–” Hot on his tail you echoed but he turned to shoot you down in an instant.

“Think carefully about what you’re going to ask me.” He cautioned.

The way his eyes were closed to imprisoning you made you take his advice on the first call. There was no need to ask about the obvious.

During your state of charging you had put pieces together. With the way the body looked upstairs and the need for a nitrogen chamber, it was obvious that he wasn’t preserving a clone. He was preserving the living. And if the scattered pages and the scribbled writing weren’t enough evidence, the theories on reanimation were all you needed to know that you and the alien were the same person. There was no separation or duplication. Your mind was being projected into your android body in real-time.

“Why am I not in my body anymore?” You questioned.

He wasn’t shocked that you figured it out but irritated that you had no wish to leave well enough alone. He swallowed.

“I’m in there but with you at the same time. What’s the point?”

Qimir started to feel like he couldn’t breathe. Your inquirie was peeling off the lid that he had done a shawty job at sealing shut. “[Name],”

“I tried going through my memory files but can’t find a thing since I woke up so I’m asking you," you insisted. "I promise to not ask for anything else! Tell me or let me see what happened.” If you were still you but in a different container, why couldn’t you remember anything? It was clear that your creator would have more than just answers.

“It’s going to clog your data,” he haphazardly explains hoping that throwing a piece out would leave you something to chew on to bide his time.

“I have more than enough storage,” you fired back at his lie.

“You wouldn't handle it well” he told you as he already heard start speaking.

“Yes, I wou –” He called for you to stop and you kept going until you both were speaking over each other.

“Just give me access to my memories!” You pleaded as you locked into his arm praying. “That’s all I ask for,”

“So you can know what it feels like to drown?” He spat.

You ate up your words and went silent.

“Because that," he got closer "that is what you’re asking me to give you,” he snarled. You gawked at the challenge in his eyes that begged you to give him permission to really put you in your place.

“I’ll shut you down for years before I ever give back to you,” he declared. His voice rang with conviction that stoked an idea that shot through your mind faster than your better judgment could. That’s when you went running. 

It was one of the most mindless decisions you had ever made but you were getting used to your firsts being a result of last-minute miscalculations and high-spinning emotions.

You could hear Qimir shouting for you as you started for the stairs. If you could just get to the panel near the chamber, lock yourself in the room, and override whatever was in control, you’d get your questions answered.

It was a ludicrous dream because you hadn’t even made it to the fourth step of your stairway to heaven before you were dragged right back down to reality. You felt a force pull you back.

You were tossed onto the ground and saw yourself captured under Qimir. Your legs flailed and your arms went every which way but it was immensely humbling when you saw how little Qimir had changed his position. He only needed to keep a hand around your throat to lock you in your misery as he thought of what to do next. He looked upset but still not yet angry.

“I won’t let go until you stop,” he said as the hold around your neck tightened. You didn’t need the air to breathe but you could feel the discomfort nonetheless. From your perspective, he seemed entirely uncompromising as he virtually waited for your cue to arrange where the rest of the night would go. You knew better than to think you’d get out of this on top. Qimir was much too skilled and much too disciplined to go down without a fight, a fight that he was sure to win. So you conceded.

Your movements died down and your energy waned. Two cold bodies in a quiet room stood still waiting for their next cue. Qimir's faint voice cracked the frozen air first.

“You’re feeling antsy,” he lulled as he took his hand off your neck to stroke your hair. “It’s a shame.” His voice was expelled with such condescension while you were so busy trying to decipher his current feelings. Conceivably, you even considered truly raising the white flag. After all, who were you to question your maker when he could put you down by the end of a heartbeat?

You were ready to give another apology—a real one this time, so you never saw it coming when he directly placed his hands into your pants.

“Your frustration is understandable,” he told you as he immediately placed a finger in your hole with no preparation. Your gentle hands clasped his shoulders on instinct as you moaned.

How could you have known that you missed him inside you? With how feral Qimir was, he held so much restraint that you were pooling at the initiation of first contact in days. His fingers pushed and pulled against your tight cunt with no rhythm. 

“But it’s not an excuse,” he criticized. You had already forgotten what he said prior. “So I’ll teach you obedience through pain today.”

You had no proper picture of what he meant when he made that proclamation but there was no space for you to ask  All you could do was thoughtlessly take in his two fingers in hopes that he would go faster. His choice of distraction was brilliant. As he increased his and watched you try to bounce on his fingers, he began seeing the signs. The bucking hips, the loud whines, the hard nipples poking through your shirt, and your eyes gradually going over.

“[Name], hold it,” he said. That was an order. It was order he was daring you to try and override.

Your eyes went white and you stopped grinding against him as you held onto your release. “No,” you purred in frustration at the feeling. He hadn’t stopped stretching his fingers and grazing your walls. He curled without remorse and you were forced to hold your climax with no complaint. “Qimir,” you called once more.

“Sh,” he nipped your whining immediately. “No talking.”

Your folds got wetter and he only got faster as you held your breath the hotter you got. You were swelling with no sign of relief until the fingering eventually stopped. It wasn’t at all a sweet release but rather a further push into punishment.

Qimir took out his fingers and gave them a lick to clean up just before he went tossing you onto the couch. You weren’t privy to any of his plans as he just carried on with you left to play catch up. He took off your clothes with haste and as he peeled the layered you shivered each time his hands would graze your skin. You were desperate and distracted and it was shameful. Your streak of rebellion meant nothing when you were lapping in his hands at the first thought of him penetrating you.

Your body was moving at his every whim as he pulled you to straddle him. Qimir pulled out his growing cock and aligned it with your entrance as he pull you to him. While swallowing a grunt, he watched his pulsing shaft disappear into your puckering hole in satisfaction. “[Name], bounce and start counting,” he said.

There was no doubt that you were drooling once his balls hit your ass but your system had you moving before you could even savor the moment. You gripped him as you rose high enough for his tip to almost leave you cunt, then you slammed back down. 

“One,” you recited. You elevated yourself again and then sank into his member. “Two.”

It felt like you were choking as you bounced on him and recited your punishment. The way his cock tore you open didn’t come with the euphoria that it once did when he and you were in sync. Instead, you were left to ride out your arousal alone as every time you watched him, he looked to be indifferent and not even present.

“Qimir, please, I’m sorry,” you said through sporadic hiccups.

“[Name], no talking,” he secured the demand “Don’t tell me you lost count,”

You frantically shook your head as you pushed out the number twenty-six. You were sensitive and Qimir certainly knew that about you. By now, you would have been creaming all over him as you gasped in his neck but you were still registering the previous order to hold your climax.

When he ordered you to go faster, you did. When he demanded you slow down your pace, you followed. He put you entirely in control of your edging knowing you couldn't do anything but fill the entire home with your pathetic moans.

“[Name], stop,” was the last thing you heard before you felt your strings cut as you went limp on him. You wanted to stay there cock warming him until you didn’t feel dizzy anymore but he already had you over his knee in a new position.

You felt like you were dangling over the edge of his lap as he parted your lips to expose the bud in between your folds.

“Give me a number,” was all Qimir said. He didn’t explain further to use your inexperience against you.

“Twenty-seven,” you blurted out and it would have made him laugh if he wasn’t holding in his anger. It was the number of days it has been since your creation. He could tell you liked to keep track of the days since it was the one set of numbers that were always baked into coding whenever he would give your software a check.

He placed two fingers in your pussy to anchor you. “Don’t act cute,” he warned you as he dulled his first slap to your ass. You gasped as you started to pull away but Qimir held you down with so little effort. “Careful,” he threatened. He struck you again while keeping two fingers for you to clench around.

“Let this be a learning experience,” he chastised you as he had spanked your tender skin with a loud snap.

He spanks with you counting each time until you’re truly crying under him. “You can handle it,” he continues almost knowing what was going through your thoughts. When he strikes you again, you bite your lip down as you stomach your punishment. For no reason clear to yourself, you wanted to prove you could handle it even when you weren’t showing it well.

So for every impact, Qimir’s rough hands had on your ass cheek, your grip on the fabric of the couch only got tighter until your nails burst through the seams. 

“[Name], eyes open.” He sounded so emotionless. 

Your skin got hotter as your cunt got warmer. You never stopped clenching around his fingers until the very end when he delivered the final blow. A climax never came, however, for either of you. There was just gasping on your end and wetness spilling from out of your hole and onto his fingers. 

Your already aching ass landed on the floor once Qimir had started rising off of the couch. At that point, you had wished the Qimir left you as you were before. You missed when you didn’t feel things like shame, desperation, and pain. As he stood over you, you could have matched his indifference but you cared too much now. 

“[Name], come here,” he said.

You shook your head fervently as you tried to hold off on the command. 

“[Name–” 

“No,” you countered. You were tired of torture. You were sick of the delay. You thought that your consequences were more than enough.

Qimir’s brows furrowed. The first of the cracks in his mirror. 

“P-Please,” you felt a tear run down your face. “I-I’m sor-sorry,” your speech was glitching. “No, no mor-more or–orders. I, I can’t-nt ta-take i-i,” you vomit out. Your software was breaking down.

Qimir came down to you like a god as he crouched to look you over. He watched as you shrunk into yourself like a caged animal. It was time to power you down.

Your self-defense protocols saw him reach for the back of your neck. It was fast enough for Qimir’s fingers to make it to the ring behind your neck but you still managed to grip his arm beg with all that was left in your. Tears were running out of your eyes fast enough to empty your water system if he let it happen too long.

“Ple–Do-don’t shut shut me do-down,” he watched his still face in the glass of your eyes. “Qim-mir!” He pressed four consecutive times and you dropped.

~ 

As Qimir finished unscrewing your breast panel, he lifted the metal and set it aside. Just as he thought, your battery had expanded from the heat of your constant overstimulation. He gripped a set of tweezers and broke the circuit that was at the heart of your function. The piece was tossed aside and hit the nearby table with a clack.

The idea of creation sounded appealing in its inception. If he just got it right he could govern his own fate without any interference. Yet, he made a full circle back where he started and he had to choose to break the cycle before he worsened his insanity.

He ran his hand across his face as he sat still near the platform almost waiting for you to spring back to life. The sound of your glitched begs bounced off every wall in his head as he repeatedly shot back apologies under his breath. Once he had properly disposed of the old battery, he sat back in his chair to inspect his possibilities as he toyed with the new battery in between his fingers.

leave a comment, send an ask, or reblog. I might write a whole fic because of it or maybe send a meme, but I always respond.

[cityofmeliora]

another absolutely insane Primo interview

in my first post about Primo's characterization, i noted that he has a dark sense of humor and possibly cruel inclinations. i recently found scans of a April 2012 Metal Hammer interview that features Primo and a Nameless Ghoul (big thanks to @ Primoismelting on twitter!!) i can now say with absolute certainly that he delights in evil and cruelty and being a villain.

this interview is like. really long. so i'm not posting a whole transcript. but here some highlights from this interview:

Primo says he would maim a panda bear for less than $500.

THERE ARE VARIOUS MEANS OF ASSESSING WHETHER SOMEONE IS EVIL OR NOT You don't need to wait until a person plunges a rusty pair of gardening shears through your eye to stop and think: "Yes, my reading of the situation is that he's a bit on the evil side." Criminal psychologists and those working in secure psychiatric facilities use questionnaires called psychopathy tests in order to judge whether someone is a grade A violent nutcase or not... whether they're mad or simply bad. Today's two subjects from the occult rock band Ghost – a sinister figure shrouded in robes who answers only to the title of A Nameless Ghoul and a desiccated cadaverous fiend wearing the pope's robes and mitre, called Papa Emeritus – have agreed to sit ARE YOU EVIL? 101. We tell them, "No one will ever find out. Tell me how much money it would take to persuade you to hit a panda really hard in the face with a brick." Despite his voice being disguised by electronic effects to help preserve his identity, the disgust in the Nameless Ghoul's answer is audible: "It would take a lot of money. An insurmountable amount of money." But you would not kill the panda – probably just fuck its nose up a bit. And I have a Large amount of money to offer you. But the Ghoul will not budge and is clearly appalled: "I will pass thank you. I have no desire to hit a panda in the face with a brick." Papa Emeritus pauses for what feels like an eternity before croaking: "One. Million. Lire.” A willingness to harm animals is often judged to be an indicator of psychotic behaviour. Most people would never agree to hit the unfortunate bamboo-eating, sex-phobic, monochromatic bear on the hooter. Papa is not only happy to do it but he also knows a Gene Simmons-sized business opportunity when he sees one, yet the Ghoul on the other hand has revealed he has a more moral outlook. This is very confusing. Another test is needed. Metal Hammer (April 2012)

the Italian Lira is a now-obsolete currency that was phased out and replaced by the Euro from 1999-2002. in 2001, its last year of usage, it had an average conversion rate of roughly ~2180 Lire = 1 USD. 1 million Lire would be about $460 USD. Primo dgaf about endangered animals LMAO.

Primo reacts with sinister glee at the idea of invading and conquering Poland. (understandably, this is the interview where a Nameless Ghoul compares him to H*tler.)

We put the following to them, "OK, consider this. You are passing by Poland. Do you stop and think A) What a fantastic opportunity, I must visit this famous land and soak up its rich culture and history and make new friends in the process, or B) I must annex this God-forsaken strip of dirt and grind its populace under the heel of my jackboot in order to create Lebensraum for my Reich which will reign in glory for a millennium?" The Nameless Ghoul stammers: "I have yet to step foot in Poland so it's a foreign country to me." Stop avoiding the question. Would you sooner visit Poland for a holiday or invade it? He sighs and says: "In my line of work we are pretty much into invading countries. Being a rock musician with the aim of putting on a very good show all around the world, it would be very handicapping to not explore the cultural aspects of countries you visit. But when you are in a band such as Ghost that's on the rise and you go to a country like Poland, you go there with the aim of conquering the country. You go to their country to enrich them with your culture of blasphemy.” Papa Emeritus does not add anything but he is grinning as much as his rigor mortis will allow and rubbing his hands together. It looks like in his mind he is already packing his bags and choosing a particularly severe tank commander's outfit for the trip. Again there is a big divide between the mysterious monk and his partially decayed singer. The conclusion of the test is far from clear. Could it be – as strange as it may seem – that they are nothing more threatening than ordinary travelling minstrels who simply wish to excite young people with an invigorating and theatrical "rock show"? Or are they indeed, as they claim, emissaries sent from Hades to recruit foot soldiers for the most evil of battles to come? More tests are needed. Metal Hammer (April 2012)

Primo has no problem with being compared to H*tler, but he DOES NOT want you to forget that his dick is HUGE.

The Nameless Ghoul says this is partially the point: "A lot of people presume we're parodying the church by inverting it but this isn't the case. We do the exact same thing as the church but we add a little topping to make a point. I think the real Pope is a very frightening character and that's the reason why he is an impenetrable, invincible and uncontrollable figure. It is the same with Papa Emeritus. You can't defeat Papa Emeritus because he's sacred. Most people find authoritative figures like the Pope enthralling. So he represents everything that is sacred, powerful and authoritative. It is very humorous as well, because not only is he our own Eddie, he's also Freddie Mercury, Adolf Hitler, Dracula, Marlon Brando and the Pope rolled into one.” Anger rouses Papa Emeritus from his near slumber: "Don't forget John Holmes!" The Nameless Ghoul sighs and corrects himself, throwing the 13 -inch-cocked porn star into the mix: "He is like Freddie Mercury, Adolf Hitler, Dracula, Marlon Brando, The Pope and John Holmes rolled into one.” Metal Hammer (April 2012)

Primo fucks, but he DOES NOT do foreplay.

"Thank you," says Papa E. It has to be said, while the singer no doubt cuts quite a figure in his robes and he undeniably has great bone structure, some of which is exposed to the elements, it's perhaps a shame that he doesn't have a better grooming routine as this might afford him and Ghost more young female fans. The Ghoul laughs raucously beneath his hood: "You'd be surprised at how many women flirt scandalously with him from the audience. The Ghouls get repelled when we see this happening actually. It is true that he has good bone structure but I think it is not so much his looks as the idea of him being whoever they want…” So basically you're saying that there are a lot of women out there who are having impure thoughts about a cadaverous cross between Hitler and Freddie Mercury in a dress? He lets out another chuckle: "Yes... yes, I am." Papa cuts in with a lascivious leer: "Whatever makes you think that I do not engulf myself in the carnal aftermath of our masses? I do, however, refrain from so-called 'foreplay'."

in the original lore, Papa Emeritus I was a zombie pope. he was supposed to be an actual literal corpse.

the interview makes several references to Primo being a zombie. he's described as 'cadaverous', having rigor mortis and exposed bones. the joke was that the title "Papa Emeritus" is the title of former popes, but a former pope would by definition be a dead pope, so the idea was that Ghost's Papa Emeritus I was a dead pope. this was before Pope Benedict resigned in 2013 and became the first living Pope Emeritus, ruining the joke, LOL.

[seokith]

sudden confession

ೀ pairing ; wonbin x gn!reader

ೀ genre ; fluff, f2l

ೀ wc ; 775 .

ೀ notes ; hai.. i decided to go back to writing so i apologize if its a bit messy as of now swear it’s going to get a lot better ◞᎔◟ i didn’t really have an idea in my mind so i just went with the flow whoopsies! + i apologize if there's any grammatical errors because english is not my first language </3

“binna, look! the sunset!"

that was what broke wonbin from his trance. he watched you drag him to a nearby fence that overlooked the sea and land, and he watched you admire the sunset. eventually, he shifted his gaze to the sunset in front of him, and gosh, it did not disappoint. part of him wished the sunset could be permanent so he could see you happy like this forever, but no matter how beautiful the sunset was, it could never compare to you.

not long after, wonbin shifted his gaze back to you, but you didn’t notice as you were too immersed in the view in front of you. it was breathtaking. it almost had the same effect on you as wonbin when he’s competing, but damn—the only thing that could distract you from your racing heartbeat was the view before you.

“(name),” he called softly.

“(name),” he repeated.

you shifted your eyes from the view in front of you and looked to the side, where the sound had come from.

“yes, wonbin?" you replied, your voice trembling a bit. since when did he look this good? you didn’t know if you could handle seeing the guy you had grown to love looking even more handsome under the setting sun. you felt your face turning crimson, but you tried to hold it back.

“i… i have to get something off my chest," wonbin started.

“we’ve been friends ever since middle school, but i can’t deny that i've developed some feelings for you, (name). you were the first person to come up to me and talk to me other than the class president back then, and it really meant something to me. you helped me settle into the school, and i couldn’t be more thankful. every time i had doubts, you were always there to make me feel better, and that means a lot to me, (name),” he paused, shifting his gaze from you to the sunset in front of him, sighing.

“i know this might be a lot for you to process, but (name), i think… i like you. i don’t know if you feel the same way, but if you don’t, that’s fine. we can just pretend like this never happened. but if you do…" he pulled his eyes away from the view in front of him and looked you in the eye, his cheeks clearly burning.

“may I be your boyfriend?”

boom. it felt like time had stopped. did wonbin just confess to you? was this real? if it was a dream, why did it feel so real? you couldn’t form any words, too surprised, and wonbin felt like he was going to melt under your gaze, as if you had seen something terrifying. he was more nervous now than he’d ever been during any of his competitions.

“i—i, never mind, just forget this happen—"

“wonbin-ah," you interrupted his ramble.

wonbin shifted his gaze from the ground and looked at you with shaky eyes.

“you… you like me? since when?" you asked.

wonbin's eyes widened. was he really going to expose himself to his own crush? fuck, he cursed internally.

“remember when we met during our year nine summer break?" he answered.

holy fucking shit. if you remembered correctly, that was about two years ago. you felt yourself heating up and shakily sighed before speaking again.

“t-that long? why didn’t you tell me? here I was, thinking this was a one-sided love the whole time…"

“yes, that long—wait, what?" did he hear that right? did wonbin mishear what you just said? no, it couldn’t be.

“bbin, i like you too, you know? even longer than that. i've liked you since—well, since that field trip back in year eight, actually…" you scratched your head as you slowly revealed your feelings for him.

“and to answer your question, sure. you may be my boyfriend, wonbin." there, you said it. fucking hell, you were sure you sounded like a squeaky toy when you said that, but you couldn’t care less.

wonbin smiled happily when he heard this. he reached out and gave you a tight hug, overcome by sudden joy.

you didn’t react at first, as shocked as he was, and he sensed that you might be uncomfortable with the sudden hug. as he began to pull away, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him back into the tight embrace.

the sound of waves crashing along with the sunset that's sinking made everything feel surreal. the beauty that captured a blossoming relationship between the two friends that fate had brought upon them was unmatched and nothing else could disturb them nor break them apart.

[ghostybaby000]

Never Yours | Part 3

Part 1 part 4

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Summary: He had seen blood hundreds of times before, but never from you. He didn't know what to expect while listening to your cry's on the phone praying you wouldn't loose consciousness. Part one posted above to start this read!

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: 18+, violent theme, weaponry use, blood, symptoms of panic

Tag List: @yyiikes @talooolaaloolla

(not fully edited, apologies for any inconsistencies!)

As quietly as his large build would let him, he crossed the room just to the foot of your bed. He looked to all the machines around you and buttons that were beeping or flashing, it all made him feel more anxious. His eyes landed on your heart monitor where they rested for quite some time, he watched the small screen and lines and noticed his own heart begin to resume a normal rate. A smile came over your face as you saw him and tried to reach an arm out to him as he swiftly moved to the side of the bed. He gently grabbed your hand and placed it down on your stomach, he didn’t want you moving one bit.

You put your other hand over the top of his and stared into his eyes, without words trying to tell him that you were okay. Looking at him you adjust to sit up as you tried to clear your throat. 

From behind him, he pulled a visitor’s chair as close as it could be to the bed and sat down intent on staying every second he was allowed. As soon as you had awoken you had asked to see Simon, not giving yourself any time to take in the injuries you had acquired or to think back to what had happened. 

Tears began to flood your eyes as you remembered the events that had unfolded and left you starting to shaking. Immediately Simons eyes grew wide as he stood from the chair and cupped your face with his large hand.

‘Dove what is it? Are you in pain?’ The nervousness in his voice told you that he too was scared, confirmed by him calling for a nurse from the bedside- never letting go of your hand. Clearing your throat again you take in a shaky breath and touch Simons arm to get his focus back to you. 

A nurse had made their way into the room with a haste but you and Simon both assured her as she made her way back out of the room that everything was okay. He looked back to you and leaned over so you wouldn’t strain your voice.

‘It’s not the pain Simon, I-I just haven’t processed it all yet.’  He let out a small breath and sat down again in the small chair. He brushed his thumb gently over your hand and looked at you with his brows furrowed.

‘So much happened so fast, I don’t think I’m remembering all of the details right.’ He pushed a tear off your cheek with a smile.

‘All that matters is that you’re alright. Whoever did this-‘ He took a pause to again to inhale and then continue. 

‘Whoever did this will answer to me, the only thing you need to worry about is getting better.’ Your eyes began to feel heavy with the sedatives you had been given as your muscles relaxed, Simon continued to gently thumb over your hand. 

Hours passed as you slept, Simon watching you and every person who entered the room ensuring that nobody was taking you again from him. He listened to the shoes shuffling by in the hallway and watched your chest fall and rise with each breath, grateful that you were able to rest. 

His phone pocket began to buzz, he used his unoccupied hand to retrieve it. 

‘Price’

He looked to you and slowly began to rise, being as quiet as possible, kissing your hand and gently resting it on your stomach he made his way into the hall to answer the call.

‘What do you have?’ His voice was stern as he spoke, silent to hear any information after he had asked. 

‘Well we went back to the neighborhood and found that the neighbors have cameras installed on their doorbells. We were able to see when the attack happened, and we think we know who’s done it as well.’ 

‘The attack, was this more than one person?’ 

‘Not that we know of yet, just one made their way into the home. Faking as a inspector of some kind, we can’t see the trucks logo. Y/N opened the door to greet them, and then tried to close it but they…they made their way inside.’ A pause caught in Simons throat thinking again of how small you were, his anger rising. 

‘Thank you. Tell me when you have anything else.’

‘Will do.’ 

As he hung up the phone and made his way back into the room, you stirred slightly. He quickened his pace to be back at your side again pushing your stray hair strands from your face. You drifted back to sleep as he resumed his position in the chair. 

He began to think over what Price had said and the details that he could use to his advantage. He thought to you as well, how you must have been so afraid. SO afraid to of being alone and the pain that ensued would surely leave you scarred. He thought for another hour or so, taking a water when the nurse offered it still refusing to leave the room. 

You spoke out then to him, the first time he didn’t really understand what you had said, and asked you to repeat.

‘I knew you...’ 

‘What...Dove do you need something?’ he whispered with his low voice, trying to not startle you if you were still sleeping.

Your eyes slowly opened as you reached this time to cover his hand. You cleared your dry throat as you spoke again, this time more clearly.

‘I knew to call you.’ A smile started over your face as Simon patted your hand assuming the pain medication was talking.

‘What do you mean lovie?’ He grinned back to you, his eyes never loosing track of yours. 

You opened your eyes more fully this time, now staring at him. Again the prickle of tears began to sting. 

‘I knew that you would be there faster than an ambulance… I knew you would get to me first.’ 

He stared to you for another moment before allowing his head to fall to the floor. He was feeling his own eyes begin to sting, for he didn’t agree. He should have been the one to take it, he should be the one recovering, he should have never left, or he should have taken you with him in the least. 

He looked back up to you and instead pushed the thoughts out of his mind, standing to plant a kiss on your forehead. Your eyes slowly began to close again as he whispered to you,

‘Always.’

Hours passed as the night progressed, Simon now letting his own eyes close but never succumbing to sleep. 

Nurses came in and out to check your vitals throughout the evening, eventually the doctor came in and asked to discuss the surgery and the aftercare. You sat a little higher in the bed, wincing as you did so. Simon pushed himself out of his chair to help sit you up properly, being soft with every movement. Once you both had gotten situated, the doctor went over the procedure. 

You noticed that as the doctor went on, Simons knee only bounced harder, his hands becoming more sweaty as he wiped them on his pants. He would look over to you and smile, although you could tell it pained him to see you hurting. The doctor finished talking over the surgery and explained that a nurse would be by to check the dressings. Before leaving he pulled Simon into the hallway and gave him more specifications on taking care of you when you returned home, along with some paperwork. He listened very closely, intent on helping you recover as best he could. He shook the doctors hand as he began to leave, but the doctor didn’t let go entirely-looking to Simon.

‘She is very lucky to have you, there’s no telling if she would have made it had you not gotten her here.’ 

He felt a lump in his throat as he again thanked the doctor and made his way back into your room. A nurse came in not to long afterwards and asked if you’d like to be alone for the dressing change. You told her that you wanted Simon to stay so long as he wanted to, looking over to Simon who gave a small nod of approval.

You see his jaw clench as she slowly pulled down the cover to see your wrapping, he hated himself for not being the one to take the blow. He took your hand in his as she began to undo your dressing, and when she had gotten it entirely off Simon had gone ridged in his chair. The nurse asked if he was alright before moving on and showing Simon how to care for her wound. He watched her very closely, at one point staring her down when she made you groan out. She completed the changing process and Simon was confident he was capable of treating it from home, where he wished to be. 

He thought of the scene again that he walked into, remembering that the house had been left like that- and he didn’t want you to go back to see the mess. He watched over your face as you fell again into a sleep, taking the time to notice how delicate your hand was in his.  

You awoke again a few hours later to Simon watching something on the small TV, the sound muted. He heard you stir and turned his attention to you seeing that you were awake, and asked if you were alright.  You confirmed that you were okay before Simon pondered over the events. He didn’t want to ask you to retell one of the worst moments of your life but felt it would be better him asking than an officer. Food is sent out to the rooms, as Simon sat by watching you slowly eat. Knowing you were safe allowed more room for anger to take hold in his mind, feeling a rage that burned like fire. He wanted so badly to get his hands on whoever had done this to you. He knew that asking you questions would feel horrible, asking you to recreate the moments that had caused you so much pain, but knew that you would have important information that he needed to find the monster.

You sat up fully now and looked at Simon, he was very focused on his thoughts. You run your hand over his arm that was resting on the chair, getting him to look at you with a smile. You take a sip of water to clear your throat as you speak to him.

‘I didn’t know what to do, Simon.’ His brows furrowed and his grip around your hand intensified. 

‘I know. You shouldn’t ever have to prepare for something like this...’ His voice getting more broken as he continued to speak, looking to you tears begin to form in his eyes. 

‘And I’m sorry that I wasn’t there.’ He looked to you like you had never seen him before. He was speaking words he didn’t want to be true and it pained him to see you in such a state. You took the time now to cut him off before his mind could get to him any further. 

‘Simon you were. You got me out of there and are the reason I am able to sit here and talk with you now.’ His head fell to the floor, the thought of you not making it scared him even when you were here in front of him, quite alive. You pulled his head to look at you, tears forming in your own eyes as you went on.

‘Thank you, Simon. Thank you for getting to me.’ It took no more than a few seconds for Simon to be over you, hugging you as lightly as he could without hurting you. His warm lips kissed your forehead for longer than necessary as he pulled back just enough to see your face. The rage in him now was boiling over the edge, he would find whoever did this, and they would pay. He tried to be as patient as possible when speaking to you over the events, he didn’t want to make you feel any pressure or panic when talking to him.

‘I know it may be hard, but do you think you could try and tell me about…what happened?’ He felt the room get colder and your hand stiffen in his. He searched your face for any clue to what you were thinking. 

‘I…’ The thoughts played over in your mind going far to quickly to understand them individually. You knew that Simon would do anything and everything to avenge your pains, looking down to your bandaged abdomen, he wouldn’t stop until they had been found. 

‘I can try.’ You smiled up to him slowly as he took in a breath and nodded.

 Where were you going to begin? 

[a-chaotically-small-lunta]

Okay hear me out. Imagine a story where a scientist is leading a tour of kids through his lab, showing off all the inventions that will hopefully one day help humanity! In this tour is his son, who is very excited to be with his dad at his job, while also technically going to school? Win Win!! His dad has been a bit overprotective of him, but he sort of enjoys the attention. Although he isn’t too keen on his classmates who bully (perhaps one of the bullies is his brother or something) him for it, still poking and teasing him during the tour.

After awhile the dad shows off a portal machine which can open a portal to a whole new world, or at least that’s what they think it leads to anyway. The lab hasn’t fully tested it and is making a robot to send in first. The kids all ask if they can see it and the science team agrees as long as no one goes over the rails towards the portal, cause it seems to have a suction. (You can see where this is going I bet) The science team flips on the machine and the portal lights up, and while everyone is distracted the bully decides to have some fun, whispering into the Scientist kid’s ear something like “Maybe you’ll see your mom over there” or “Perhaps I should just take out trash like you. You’re just wasting dad’s time anyway” before the kid can really process what happens he is pushed over the rail into the portal, disappearing. The machine shuts off with a clunk and the dad is pissed. He is shouting at the bully about how stupid that was and how they have no idea if it’s even life sustainable on the other side! A guard nearby says that the kid is in real serious trouble for so many reasons, only for the dad to chime in that the bully better hope his kid is alive cause if he isn’t, he’ll get a murder charge. The bully explains he didn’t mean to only for most of the class saying that the bully always does this and one student even repeats what he said before he pushed the kid in. They decide to end the tour early and send everyone home, while the bully is escorted out by the guards and won’t be going home soon.

The science team asks what they’re gonna do and the dad says they’re gonna make something. Perhaps a suit or vehicle so that he can go into the portal and find his son. The team nods and quickly gets to work, they know it’ll take more than a few weeks, but maybe if they are lucky the kid will be okay, and maybe they can get it done faster.

Meanwhile, the kid flies through the portal and lands on a soft ground. Panicking he sits up and looks around, only to notice he’s on a huge bed. The portal sent him to a world that was way bigger than his own. Fear strikes him as he realizes where there is a big bed, there’s a big person. He’s right when he looks over across the room and sees a huge person sitting at a desk mumbling to themself. He’s frozen in fear and can’t move, even when the person swings around from their chair and walks over to their bed only to pause and stare at him.

The giant just stared at him, confused as to why there is a tiny child in their bed. They swear they didn’t put them there and are about to say something when the kid just burst out crying and the giant panicked. They quickly kneel by their bed and try to hush the child and tell them that it’s okay. The child keeps sobbing and soft hiccups can be heard, but eventually the kid quiets down a bit. The giant carefully asks how the kid got there, and the boy answers between sobs. The giant listens and the boy eventually bursts into tears again, crying out that they want their dad. The giant gently scoops them up, and holds them close saying “hey, hey, it’s going to be alright. You said your dad was a scientist…sooo he must have seen you get pushed in. I bet he’s trying to get back to you, he just has to figure out how to.” The kid sniffles and asks if the giant really believes that and they nod. They then reassure the kid that they won’t hurt them and that they’ll watch and care for them, until their dad comes to save them. The boy nods and the giant pauses and asks if he likes movies. The boy says yes and that he likes action like movies. The giant then decides that maybe they could watch a movie, to help the boy calm down, they’ll even let the kid choose the movie. He gets a little excited over this and the two of them go and do exactly that. Through this we learn that the worlds are almost identical, but some things are changed like Superman is Aceman, and Ice Cream is Frost Gel. All still the same thing, just named differently, which both the giant and boy find amusing.

The boy stays with the giant for little over a week, getting used to the large surroundings and the movements of the giant. The giant provides a small house to the boy, made of a box and Legos, which the boy had fun playing with and designing that part of the little home. In the other world the dad and his team finally finished the suit. It was built to survive space, acid, lava, and other possibilities. It had a backpack built into the back that held food rations, weapons, tools, and other things for survival. There was also the case, which contained all the parts for a small return portal back home. Which had been tested multiple times….just not cross dimensionally. The suit also had a built in camera that would send live video feed back to the team while the dad, who wanted to be the one who went through, was over there looking for his son. He’d also do some science stuff, like take samples and explore a bit.

The day finally arrives and the dad walks through the portal. He finds himself behind a large plush wall, and he starts to walk around it when he hears booming voices. Meanwhile the giant is laying in bed scrolling through their phone. The kid is sleeping in their little house for a quick nap. Then out of the corner of their eye they see something move out from behind their pillow. The dad looks up and catches the giant’s eye glancing at him. He freezes, and then grabs a weapon from the bag. This causes the giant to freak out and quickly flop out of their bed and onto the floor. The dad runs over and, using the mic in his suit, shouts “WHERE IS HE?!?!?” The giant, confused as hell, asks that the “crazy living action figure dude” please put down the weapon, while also asking what he means. The dad just shouts “IF YOU DID ANYTHING TO HIM I SWEAR I’LL..” the threat falls from his lips as the giant rises above him and cautiously walks over to the little house. They open the top and reach in, carefully waking the boy up and whispering that they have a surprise. The dad, still in a fighting stance, watches as the giant approaches with something in their hands. He’s about to fight, when the giant opens their hands and reveals his son, causing him to freeze. The boy pauses, not recognizing him cause of the suit, but once the dad rips the helmet off, the kid jumps off the giants hand and rushes to embrace his dad.

Both the kid and the dad just tightly hold onto each other as the giant just smiles softly, watching them. They then comment how much of a strong and loving dad the kid has and how the dad has such a brave and smart son. They both look up at the giant, who gives them a sweet smile. The dad explains they can go back home and the son is excited to tell his dad everything he learned about the place. The giant asks if there is anything they can do to help, which the dad asks if there is a safe place to setup a portal device somewhere that isn’t, well, a bed. The giant nods, and offers their hand to the pair. The son quickly hops on and the dad, carefully steps on after a bit of encouragement from his son. The giant takes them to their desk and says they can set it up in the free space near the wall.

After some time the portal is up and running and the dad has some samples, including a hair from the giant, and the small pair is ready to go home. The giant remarks that they’ll probably be seeing more of the tiny people, but says that they are welcome to visit. The boy hugs the giants hand and thanks them for taking care of them. The dad also thanks them for watching over his son, and says that he’s glad that the giant was the one to find his son. They take their leave and the story comes out in their world about what happens. The bully is still charged for some things, mostly messing with official government science stuff, but everything seems fine in the end. Plus the boy made an amazing friend, and the dad found someone he can trust to watch his son.

Anyway, basically what if a portal led to a giant world similar to our own, but it was discovered because some kids decided to mess with a kid. Resulting in the kid getting lost in that world, having to wait to be found or find a way back themself?

[nikethestatue]

All Hallow's Eve

An Elriel Halloween fanfic

Summary: Rhysand, the High Lord of Night Court enlists his sister-in-law Elain Archeron to plan a city-wide celebration of All Hallow's Eve. As she is still new to being Fae, Rhysand suggests a helper--Azriel, who would guide her through the process and show her the ropes.

Over the next few weeks, they plan the celebration together, they visit the Historian, and they end up together at Azriel's secret mansion, finally free to confront their feelings for each other.

TW: Explicit Sexual Content

Words: 13,229

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“I’m gonna show you where it’s dark, but have no fear.” 

Day One

“Elain,” Rhysand called out her name from his office. 

She paused, surprised, because he rarely included her in any discussions and she was called to his office…well, never.

She pushed the door and entered. The High Lord sat behind his large desk, the portrait of her sister behind him. Watching.

Elain had to admit it–Feyre’s turned out to be a gifted painter after all. What had started as a childish hobby and endless doodles, morphed into something introspective and emotional. What Feyre perhaps lacked in technique, she compensated with the sheer visceral impact of her paintings.

“Good morning,” Rhysand said and gestured for her to sit down. She took a place across from him and allowed herself to be enchanted by his lavender eyes, which brimmed with starlight–a sight she was still getting used to.

“How are you, Elain?” Rhysand asked, his voice smooth and vaguely concerned.

“I am well, Rhys. Thank you for asking,” Elain answered politely. 

Internally, she felt both trepidation, and excitement. Because she was never asked to come to Rhys’s office. She was relegated to the gardens, to the nursery, the kitchen. Never called into the inner sanctum. 

Yes, she was part of this Court, and whenever she was called upon to serve, she did it eagerly and without hesitation. But she was typically used as a pretty doll at parties and balls or meetings with emissaries. Not unlike what her mother used to do when Elain was young–a pretty doll to dress up and parade around, introducing her to the guests. Elain didn’t mind it: she was well-versed in the matters of hosting and entertainment, and even the uncouth and ill-mannered Fae straightened in her presence and didn’t insist on behaving like beasts. 

“How are you?” she asked in turn, her stomach tightening with anticipation.

What if today was the day? The day Rhysand, the High Lord of Night Court, would actually ask for her assistance in some task. Would use her powers and skills of observation for a specific purpose. Would she be finally used for something important and meaningful?

“Oh, I am well,” he leaned back in his chair. “The babe kept us up for a few hours, but then he fell asleep so I can't complain.”

Elain smiled politely and shifted in her seat, the impatient movement catching Rhys’s all-seeing glance.

He folded his elegant, aristocratic hands on his stomach and then asked,

“Do you know what All Hallow’s Eve is?”

Elain furrowed her brow, confused by the question.

“Pardon?”

“Have you heard of it?” Rhys repeated.

She shook her head. 

“No. What is it?”

“You didn’t celebrate your dead in the Human Lands?” he confirmed.

Elain bit her lip and shook her head again. No. The dead were burned in the river and then remembered by their families, until all generations died out, and with them, all the memories as well. The wealthy, they had different customs of course, as did those who lived on the Continent. Elain’s own grandparents and mother were buried properly, and had elaborate gravestones in the family cemetery. But the cemetery was gone along with Elain’s childhood estate and the only time the family members were remembered during the years of poverty was when the sisters lit a candle on the anniversary of their passing. 

Only Nesta refused to light for their grandmother. 

“No,” she answered curtly.

She didn’t want to remember. Any of it.

He nodded calmly, unperturbed as usual. 

“It is a night when we remember our dead,” he explained. “It is not a night of sorrow, but of celebration. We light bonfires, we leave sweets outside our doors, we exchange foods to please the ancestors, and we drink in their honour. What Calanmai is to Spring Court, All Hallow’s Eve is to Night Court.”

Elain thought about it and then asked cautiously, “and you and Feyre then…have to,” she swallowed audibly and felt her cheeks heat, “have to,”

He smiled mischievously, watching her discomfort.

“Have to what, Elain?” Rhysand prompted. 

She sighed. 

“You know exactly what I am referring to,” she told him, her tone dry. “Will you be fornicating in public then?” Like they do at Calanmai?”

She’d never seen it, but she heard stories about orgies out in the open and sexual acts performed by the High Lords. 

He chuckled and assured her, “don't worry, it won't be something we’ll subject anyone to.”

“Thank the gods,” she breathed with relief.

Rhysand’s eyes sparkled with mirth.

“Is it something you’d like to experience then?” he queried with amusement. “I could arrange a trip to Spring for you, come spring,”

“That won’t be necessary,” she stopped him quickly.

“Alright then.”

“So, what about this Eve?” she questioned, “do you wish me to bake something? Cook something?” her voice was small and quiet. She wished that he’d asked her for something meaningful.

Rhysand scrubbed his chin and then resumed his relaxed position.

“So, the custom is to host a gathering,” he said at last. “Obviously, due to various reasons we’ve been unable to have a proper celebration for half a century. This year though, I feel we are in a good position to resume the festivities properly.” 

She leaned forward in her chair and watched him intently, trying to understand what he wanted from her.

But she didn't need to wait long, because Rhysand announced,

“I’d like for you to take charge of the event.”

“Me?” she cried out, shocked.

“Yes, I think you’d be the perfect candidate. Just understand that this is not a small family celebration–this is a large gathering, on par with Starfall. Dignitaries will be coming. We are looking to return to normal, and this is one of the ways we’ll do that.

“I feel that you’d be excellent for this task,”

“Wait,” she interrupted him quickly, “but I don't know anything about what’s required! How am I expected to plan this…event, when I never saw it or know,”

“Oh don't worry,” he stopped her smoothly. “Of course I wouldn't expect you to do all of this on your own and by yourself. The twins will help, surely.”

“But,”

“And I feel that another person should be available as well,”

“Who?”

Elain shuddered internally, hoping that he wouldn't suggest Nesta. It’s not that she didn’t want to work with Nesta, but planning parties with Nesta…well, calling the experience a ‘nightmare’ would be kind. Nesta was opinionated, mean and impatient. Precisely the type of person one wouldn’t want to plan a large gathering with. 

“Azriel.”

Rhysand’s tone was even, and he sounded almost bored.

Elain’s eyes, though, popped open at the ridiculous suggestion.

Azriel?

Azriel who barely talked to her, who said that their almost-kiss was ‘a mistake’, who avoided her at best, and ignored her fairly regularly…THAT Azriel? Azriel who hardly struck her as a party maker either.

Gods, now she wished for Nesta!

She also wondered if Rhysand’s been hitting that fairy wine stash that he had in his possession, because she’s never heard anything more preposterous.

“Pardon?” she said for the second time in 15 minutes.

“Azriel,” Rhys repeated blandly. “It’s his turn,”

“Turn for what, exactly?”

“We used to take turns every year, organising the festivities. How do you think Azriel is so well-versed in the usage of proper cutlery, dancing, music and good etiquette? He isn’t a savage. Now, Cassian, on the other hand,”

Elain snorted a laugh.

“In any event,” Rhys shrugged. “You ought to consult with Azriel and make plans with him. That would take the pressure off of both of you…”

It would?

Elain couldn’t think of anything more pressing than working with Azriel. 

“Are you certain that there is no one else who could help me?” she implored.

“Unfortunately, not this year,” Rhys explained somberly. “Nesta doesn’t have experience, Mor is back in Vallahan, Amren…well, she is tougher than Azriel, though I might ask her,”

“No!” Elain exclaimed. “No. I…I will try it with him. “

“Good. I’d rather not ask Cassian, because then I’ll end up handling most of it. It’s settled then?”

She exhaled heavily.

No, it wasn’t ‘settled’, but what was she going to say?

“Yes, I will do it.”

“Thank you, Elain.” 

Rhys smiled at her, but he sounded genuine in his praise and gratitude.

“You should begin promptly,” he suggested. “There isn’t much time left, honestly. It sort of escaped my mind this year. Well with all the things that happened,” his voice trailed and Elain understood. After Feyre’s pregnancy and the horror of her birth, parties weren’t Rhysand’s priority.

She stood up and smoothed her skirt.

Rhys gave her a small nod of encouragement and before she left the office, said, 

“Azriel is here right now. In his rooms. You might as well start the discussions as soon as possible.”

Oh.

Elain didn’t know.

Both Cassian and Azriel had rooms in the River House, however, they were in a different wing and they could come and go as they pleased. 

Feyre had explained that the wards in the townhouse were very strong and admittance was stringent. Rhysand and Mor were the only two people who could come and go as they pleased, and the other three needed to be admitted. Well, with everyone now either coupled or living here, permissions were a little more lax, but the wards were even stronger than before. 

After leaving Rhys’s office, Elain stopped in the middle of the hallway, and contemplated her next move.

Would it be absolutely uncouth to go up to Azriel’s rooms and knock on his door? 

Should she send him an official invitation to join her? 

That seemed a bit over-the-top even for her. 

Perhaps ask Nuala or Cerridwen to explain the situation to him? 

Have Feyre summon him?

Request that Nesta invite her over, whilst Azriel was at the House of Wind and ‘accidentally’ bump into him?

Elain tugged on her braid aggressively, but then stomped her foot in frustration.

He was just a man. Nothing more.

A man who seemed to have been attracted to her once. Maybe not. Maybe she read the signs wrong. But regardless, he wasn’t better than her. Wasn’t intimidating in the least. She was a Cauldron Made Seer. He was a spy and a shadowsinger. She was pretty sure that she outranked him anyway.

Resolutely, she headed towards the other wing of the house, her hands balled at her sides and her fingernails digging into her palms. She reckoned that she resembled Nesta right now. It didn’t matter. She was going to do it.

When she came to Azriel’s door, she heard faint music coming from inside. 

He had obtained a Symphonia for himself, because Nesta refused to let him ‘borrow’ hers at some point, since he was taking it all the time and listening to it himself. What’s more, he also added melodies and dances that he liked to it, and deleted some of Nesta’s–or at least she couldn’t find them–so they argued and that prompted him to buy one for himself. 

Elain took a deep breath and knocked.

“Come in,” she heard his voice almost immediately, and then she opened the door.

Azriel had three rooms–his request–which consisted of an office, a bedroom, and a sitting room, and Elain’s never been here, though when the house was built, she suggested some of the colours and decorations for his rooms. She wasn’t even sure why she did that. Why it mattered to her. 

Stepping into his office, the first thing that happened was Elain was blinded. She gasped, surprised to be enveloped in complete darkness. 

“For the love of the Cauldron, get away from her!” she heard Azriel’s deep, gravelly voice somewhere in the darkness. 

Shadows…These were his shadows. The gathering of shadows, which were caressing her skin now:  they touched her hair, her neck, her cheeks, her hands. 

“I said back off,” she heard Azriel’s command, and at last, the wall of shadows thinned and they pulled back as if being sucked into a vortex. 

Elain squinted and heard Azriel say “forgive them. They got excited. They haven't seen you in a while.”

And whose fault is that? Elain wanted to ask, but she didn’t.

As they typically did around her, the shadows then disappeared completely, leaving her with Azriel.

“I thought they didn’t like me,” she said quietly.

With a sigh, he told her, “no, they like you. All of me likes you.” 

At that, Elain’s eyes finally found him and she stared.

He cleared his throat.

He sat behind a desk, instantly reminding her of Rhysand. Unlike most other times, Azriel was dressed casually, and Elain dug her feet into the soft rug, trying not to squeeze her thighs together. 

His tunic was simple, but clearly bespoke–everything that he wore was tailored specifically to him–of a deep cornflower blue, and unbuttoned on his chest. His bronze skin worked beautifully with the colour of his shirt and Elain couldn’t help but admire how good he looked. She also couldn’t help herself as she peeked at his sculpted chest and his thick, veiny forearms, which he folded on the desk in front of him.

His huge black wings loomed over him like two mountains, but they didn’t seem as rigid as they usually appeared. It was almost as if Azriel was…relaxed.

But it wasn’t his elegant tunic, or his golden skin, or his muscles, or his thick black hair that attracted Elain’s attention the most–though all of those things certainly kept her occupied–but it was a pair of spectacles that was perched on his nose that took her aback.

Spectacles existed in the Human Lands, though they were expensive and rare. Only the very wealthy could afford them, and that if they lived long enough to need them. Most people just got by the best they could.

Azriel wearing a pair of black-rimmed spectacles wasn’t what Elain expected to see this morning.

“I am old, you know,” he said suddenly.

“You aren’t though!” she argued immediately, even though she wasn’t sure what he was referring to.

“I am. In your years, I am probably 33 years old. Maybe 35.”

“It isn’t old!”

“You are not yet 25,” he reminded her. “You are so young!”

“Not yet?! Young?” Elain cried out. Was he insane? She was a spinster! Even when she got engaged to Graysen there were many who whispered that she was getting on in her years and that being almost 22 was almost too late to be getting married. 

He raised his brow at her, giving her one of those ‘Azriel looks’ which he tended to shoot on occasion at people around him. It was a look of incredulity and disdain. She wasn’t the receiving end of the look before, and now that she got the eyebrow lift, well…it was scary and lonely on the other side of that look.

“You wear spectacles,” she stated the obvious.

“It would seem that I do.”

“Why?”

“Because I read a lot and need to protect my vision,” he explained. “These help me–they are slightly magical.”

Slightly magical.

Only in Prythian could something like that be uttered and actually make sense. 

“Well, they look good on you,” she blurted out, and then mentally smacked herself for her big mouth. She shouldn't even be noticing how he looks!

Azriel smiled. 

And then, they just stared at each other. 

His office was very spacious and with south-facing windows. When the house was being designed and constructed, it was Rhysand who told the artisans and the architects that Azriel’s rooms ought to have as much sun exposure as possible. Elain recalled the moment, because she was there–Feyre and Rhys were there, Amren too, and no one questioned the request. 

“Not that I am not pleased to see you in my rooms,” Azirel said at last, leaning back in his chair and taking the same pose as his brother did earlier, by lacing his long, strong fingers on his flat stomach. Elain could see the smooth ridges of his abdominal muscles even from here. She shouldn’t have been looking. But he was borderline indecent, sitting like that, folding his hands on his stomach. Who did that? It should’ve been illegal!

“However,” he continued, observing her with a smirk, “I am curious about the reason for your visit? It’s most unusual, is it not?”

“It’s not like I want to be here!” she told him quickly.

He smiled and then removed his spectacles and placed them on the desk.

“And yet, here you are.”

“I am supposed to plan a party for All Hallow’s Eve and you are supposed to help me.”

Azriel looked both amused and a bit perplexed. 

“Why did you choose me, specifically?” he queried.

She huffed and shrugged, “I didn’t. I didn’t ask for you specifically.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, only stared at her and then mouthed soundlessly And yet here you are. 

“It’s because Rhys told me!” she argued defensively.

“Told you what?”

“To ask you because it’s your turn to plan the party anyway,” she even rolled her eyes at him, which made him grin.

“I am supposed to plan a party?” he repeated.

She sighed with exasperation and exclaimed, “must I repeat everything? Are you not supposed to plan the celebration? Why are you acting like this is news to you?!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said calmly, “it must have skipped my mind. It’s been a while since I’ve done it,”

“That’s what Rhys said as well,”

“I bet he did,” Azriel nodded. 

“He said that you are supposed to help me and teach me,” she clarified.

A faint smile bloomed on Azriel’s lips and he murmured, 

“I can certainly teach you a thing or two.”

Elain squinted at him, trying to determine the meaning behind his words, but opted not to comment. Instead, she asked, “well, will you?”

“What?”

“Help me?”

“I will,” he agreed at last. “Just need to refresh my memory.”

She nodded primly.

“When do you want to start?” she asked.

“How about tomorrow morning? I can finish up everything else and then throw myself head first into party planning,” he rubbed his hands together with fake excitement.

Elain threw him an unamused look, but nodded and said, “I shall see you tomorrow at 8 in the morning.”

“Oh, eight?” he repeated.

“Yes. Eight.”

Once Elain left his office with a swoosh of her green dress, Azriel tugged on the mind link that connected him to Rhys rather aggressively.

“Ow!” the High Lord complained.

Azriel seethed, “You are such an asshole. The biggest asshole I’ve ever met.”

Rhys laughed on the other side.

“Surely not the biggest?” he argued.

“The biggest.”

“I take severe umbrage to that because you know Jurian, Beron and you knew my father. I am an honourable High Lord, that’s all.”

“Yeah, you are,” Azriel’s voice trailed. “What the hel are you doing? What is this party nonsense?”

Rhys thought for a moment and then said lazily, “I feel like you are floundering. You need a change of scenery and pace. So this is an order.”

Day Two

She arrived exactly at eight in the morning.

Carrying binders. 

Large journals with blank pages, which, Azriel supposed, she planned on filling out with information.

Azriel was in the kitchen, talking to Nuala, a cup of milky coffee in one hand and a pistachio pastry shoved in his mouth, crumbs all over his front, when Elain strode decisively inside.

She was clutching all her binders and journals to her chest and Azriel noticed that they were also different colours.

“Morning!” Elain said cheerfully, and Nuala smiled, noting, “You’ve got some pep in your walk today!”

“It’s a big assignment!” Elain declared importantly.

“You know,” Azriel attempted to say something contrary but she shot him a look of such fierceness that he shut his mouth and continued chewing.

She slapped each binder on the counter, stating loudly:

Guests.

Food.

Decorations.

Venues.

Other things.

Azriel chortled and muttered other things under his breath.

“That’s why you are here, isn’t it?” she asked, “to tell me about things I don’t know.”

“Sure, I can tell you what to do,” he offered easily.

Nuala hid a smile.

Elain squeezed the bridge of her nose and moaned, “this is going to be difficult, isn’t it?”

“Not if you don’t make it so.”

Pursing her lips, Nuala stated, “he is very difficult to work with,” and with that, and before Azriel could argue, she disappeared through the wall. 

“How’s this fair?” he yelled after her.

Only a soft laugh came in response. 

“Alright, so,” Elain opened the first journal, “I was thinking…”

“You should get some breakfast,” he interrupted her.

“I don't want it, I am not hungry!” she protested, but Azriel poured her a cup of coffee and plucked a pastry from a stand and handed it to her.

“Eat,” he ordered in a tone that didn’t allow for arguments.

Elain pouted, but accepted both the coffee and the pastry, noticing that the coffee was exactly how she liked it and the pastry was made with apples and almonds–her favourite.

But that, she was sure, was just a coincidence. He wouldn’t have known how she liked her coffee.

“So, how many guests do you think we should invite?” Elain asked, as she sipped her coffee.

Azriel looked at her with amusement, until she glanced at him and then reached out and suddenly wiped some of the buttery crumbs from his chest, carefully picked at the ones that stuck to his black jacket.

He stood still and silent, while she cleaned him up, clearly unaware of what she was doing. Her brow was furrowed while she concentrated and smacked his chest up and down. He liked it. He tried to contain his smile, but it wasn’t easy. Outside of long-forgotten brushes of fingers, this is the most Elain’s ever touched him.

Abruptly, she realised what she was doing and pulled away.

“I think you missed a spot,” he pointed out innocently.

“Ugh, why didn’t you tell me to stop?!” she exclaimed, her cheeks pink and her tone flustered.

“Why? I was enjoying it,” he said simply.

She bristled and hissed, “you don’t even like me!”

His face lost its softness and the expression hardened.

“I never said that,” he snapped.

“Yes, you did,” she insisted.

“No. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

She waved her hand dismissively,

“I don’t want to talk about it. We need to plan the party and then part our ways.”

“Sounds good to me,” he agreed, his face unreadable.

She caressed the blank pages of her journal and asked,

“How many guests usually attend?”

At that Azriel shrugged irritably and said, “I don’t fucking know…”

Her eyes popped at his coarse language.

“Haven’t you done this before?” she insisted, looking annoyed. 

“Been a while. Anyway, don’t you think you are jumping ahead of yourself?”

“How’s that?”

“Shouldn’t you find out more about the holiday? Before you start inviting guests.”

He looked at her like a disappointed teacher and she breathed a small ‘oh’.

“Come on then, we have a trip to make,” he extended his hand to her.

She looked confused, but took his hand without argument. Unlike all the others, she always took his hand without argument.

She grabbed her pastry and hurried after him, forgetting her pristinely new journals behind.

“Where are we going?” she asked, running after him as he took massive strides with his long legs.

“Just follow me!”

“But where are you taking me?” she insisted.

He gave a derisive snort and threw, “to be ravished!”

She wasn't even bothered by the callous remark and said, “I thought we are a mistake and you weren't interested.”

“Guess things change,” he said nonchalantly.

“Well, they didn’t change for me!” she screeched.

“Don’t care.”

She tried to stop, but he pulled her behind him and she was forced to trot obediently so she wouldn’t fall.

They were outside on the lawn in no time and the next moment, Azriel was in front of her, looming over her, his expression stern and dark. He released her hand from his, only to move to her shoulders, squeezing them, but not tightly. He peered into her brown eyes and said,

“I don’t want you to bring that night up anymore.”

It wasn’t a request. It was an order.

She glared at him and reminded her firmly,

“It was a pivotal night in our…association. I cannot not bring it up. It…” she swallowed. “You hurt my feelings,”

“And I apologise for that. But if we are to work together on this celebration, we can’t dwell on the past. One day, I might explain myself further. Is that understood?”

“I am not one of your soldiers to bark at,” she glowered at him.

He smiled at her and then gently tucked a rogue curl behind her ear.

“No, you're not. You are my lovely girl.”

“I am not yours,” she breathed, blinking at him.

He sighed heavily and was forced to agree. “So it would seem.”

“I am nobody’s girl,” she concluded wistfully.

Azriel wasn’t sure what to make of her words. On one hand, he was pleased that she didn’t seem to be Lucien’s girl, and that she didn’t go further into her relationship with her mate than before. On the other hand, she didn’t consider herself being his girl either. And that didn’t please him at all, though he couldn't blame her.

“Where are we going?” she asked again.

“To see the Historian,” he said.

“Why can’t anyone in Prythian have a normal name? Like Sebastian? Or Pascal?” she moaned. “Or Roan? Why is it always the Death God. The Bone Carver. The shadowsinger. The Weaver. The King. The High Lord.”

“Well, out of all of those, shadowsinger sounds the most reasonable and attractive,” he reasoned. “Also, aren’t you the Seer? Aren’t you Made?”

She scoffed with disgust and asked instead, “how are we getting there?”

“Winnowing. As much as I’d like to spend days flying there with you in my arms, I don’t think that’s the wisest course of action.”

With that, he opened his arms and winked at her, “Come, step on in, Seer.”

Wrinkling her nose, she warned him, “you better stop calling me that!”

He chuckled, and then gave her an Illyrian salute. 

“Is it dangerous?” she asked cautiously, once he pulled her into his embrace and wrapped his arms around her.

“Isn’t everything around here?” he asked innocently. 

Azriel smelled good–his scent was sharp, with undertones of cedar, and something cool and clean, like water. His body was like a slab of granite–massive and firm and so clad in muscle there wasn’t one soft spot on him. 

Winnowing with him was different from winnowing with Rhys or with Feyre or Mor. His was a pure, but comforting darkness. As they tumbled through space and time, his arms tightened around her, keeping her securely anchored to him. All she could see was the faint gleam of his blue siphons.

They landed in a few minutes, on the outskirts of a massive forest. In the distance, Elain spotted a village of some sort, but closer to them stood a stone hut with a thatched roof. Azriel released her from his embrace, but immediately tucked her behind him, protecting her with his body.

Good thing he did, because just as they stepped towards a retaining wall that surrounded the hut, a rock was hurled in their direction. Then another. And another.

Elain crouched on the ground, protecting her head, while Azriel just about fell on top of her, covering her with his body.

“They are throwing rocks at us!” she screamed, stating the obvious.

His wing shot out and not a moment too soon, because a rock bounced off of it instead of hitting Elain in the head.

“No? You think?!” he grunted, and then a rock landed almost on his shoulder, but using some incredible move, he pressed on his siphons and suddenly, the rock bounced off an invisible shield. 

“By the Mother,” Elain whimpered, “why are they throwing rocks at us?”

“Probably don't know if we are friend or foe,” he proposed.

“That’s no way to greet strangers,” she fumed.

He laughed softly, his hand cradling her head to his shoulder. 

“It is for the Fae.”

Then, once a few more rocks bounced off the shield, Azriel bellowed,

“Old man, if you don’t stop tossing boulders at us, I will rip your arm off and will beat you to death with it.”

The barrage paused.

“Shadowsinger?”

“The very same!” Azriel confirmed.

“Well then why didn’t you say so?! Come in!” the tone was happy and welcoming.

Azriel finally straightened out and Elain squeaked, “is it safe?”

“I won’t let anything happen to you, flower. Come on,” he grabbed her hand and hauled her up.

“Flower?” she repeated, straightening her dress.

“My flower,” was all he said.

A male of an undetermined age greeted them. He was on the older side for a Fae, but as far as Elain knew, it could’ve been 5,000 years old. It was impossible to tell. 

They crossed the lawn in front of the house, Azriel holding her hand firmly and for once, she was glad that he was holding her.

“Azriel shadowsinger!” The man greeted them with a smile. “It’s been a while,”

“I’ve been busy,” Azriel said.

“I can see that. Brought a woman, finally!”

Elain blushed at the man’s words and Azriel cleared his throat.

“She isn’t my woman,” he corrected the man. “She is Elain, Cauldron Made Seer, and the High Lady’s sister.”

“Oh. Well, if you would’ve warned me you were coming, I would’ve made tea!”

He ushered them inside the house–it was neat, if small. Late autumn chill dissipated the moment they entered and were directed to sit down by the hearth. 

“What brings you here, shadowsinger?” the man asked, as he fussed around a simple wooden stand, preparing tea for them.

“Lady Elain would like to learn more about All Hallow’s Eve. Its history and customs. We are to host a party and she needs the background. And I…I just need your insight.”

“Ahhh, of course,” the man stated and then brought them two cups of tea. Elain accepted hers, and noticed that there was a slice of lemon in it–just like she liked it. When she took a sip, the tea was strong, sweet and tart. 

“This is excellent,” she complimented the man. Upon closer inspection, he had a forgettable face but luminous blue eyes. Strange and deep and penetrating. When he observed her for a moment, she had a sense that he was somehow looking inside her soul. She wasn’t sure why she needed it, but she reached out for Azriel’s hand and he threaded their fingers together without question. He didn't seem surprised that she needed a bit of his strength and solidity.

“So, Lady Elain, what would you like to know?” the man inquired, taking a seat across from them.

“Azriel said that you are a historian?” she asked.

“Indeed I am. I’ve been alive for a long time and I’ve seen much, but I’ve also forgotten just as much,” he smiled. “But I can offer what I know about Samhain.”

“Samhain?” she repeated, confused.

“The name of the festival is Sam-hain actually. It means summer’s end in the Old Language. The old Fae celebrated it at the end of autumn and the beginning of winter.

“We have a few festivals that all of Prythian celebrities: Solstice, with which you are familiar, I am sure,”

“I am,” she nodded and Azriel added,

“She gives the best gifts!”

It was a pointless comment as far as Elain was concerned but it made her feel nice nevertheless.

“Something of healing and protection, I reckon,” the Historian said.

“How do you know?” Elain exclaimed, feeling her heart beat faster at the man’s sudden words.

“Just an inkling,” he stated vaguely, and continued, “the other holiday is Calanmai, known as Fire Night in some Courts. Hallow’s Eve is the other. These are celebrated across all of Prythian, unlike, for example, Starfall, which is only observed at Night Court, where the stars are visible.”

“What does it celebrate?” Elain questioned.

“The dead,” the man said plainly. “The Fae of old believed that the spirits of the dead returned to their homes on Samhain, and that the souls of those who died during the year would travel to the afterlife.”

“Is it true?” Elain asked, a little scared.

“Perhaps,” the Historian shrugged indifferently. “But you’ve been inside the Cauldron. Inside the Void–surely you wouldn’t be frightened of a little ghost.”

Elain paled and Azriel shot the man a threatening glare.

“Enough,” he muttered.

The Historian’s blue eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, before landing on their linked hands. 

“We celebrate Samhain with bonfires, dancing, divination, and wearing costumes. The bonfires are lit to guide the souls to the afterlife and to frighten away evil spirits. The old Fae also wore costumes, often animal heads and skins, to avoid being recognised by the evil spirits. This continues to this day.”

Elain’s head swirled towards Azriel and she scoffed incredulously,

“You wear a costume?!”

He smiled.

“I do.”

“What kind of costume?!” she exclaimed.

The Historian also smiled. 

“Death,” Azriel said bluntly.

She popped her lips,

“Of course you do.”

“You asked,” he shrugged.

The other man somehow forgotten, she chewed on her lower lip, pondering out loud,

“What kind of costume should I wear?”

“Anything that you wear looks good,” Azriel assured her, his large hazel eyes skimming her from her face down to her waist.

She glanced shyly at him and murmured, “no, I don’t.”

“Oh, I assure you–you do. What do you want to be?”

“I don’t know,” she worried. “What’s a good costume?! Oh gods, I bet Nesta wouldn’t even want to wear one!” she gasped.

“We’ll convince her,” Azriel said confidently. In response, Elain gave him a look. 

The Historian watched them in silence, his eyes skipping from one to the other. Whatever he saw, he kept his opinion to himself. Instead, he told Elain,

“I would recommend dressing as something that would confuse the spirits. I sense that you had experienced a loss recently?”

“I…how, how would you know?” she gawked at him, squeezing Azriel’s fingers with hers.

“I have a gift. A gift of Sight,”

“Like me?” she gasped.

“No. Nothing as advanced or as intricate as your gift. I see…threads. How they bind people and things together. Because everything is connected. Every single decision that you make will guide your path. Look at your life right now–who would’ve thought that you’d be sitting here, in my home, holding the shadowsinger’s hand in yours?”

Elain looked down at Azriel’s thumb that was stroking the fleshy part of skin of her hand.

“Who did you lose?” the man continued. “Your sisters live…So I suspect a parent?”

“My father.”

“Ahhh, condolences then, Lady Elain. This will be your opportunity to offer him a safe passage to the Land of Milk and Honey.”

“What sorts of threads do you see?” Elain asked, ignoring the rest of what he said. “What kinds of connections?”

“All kinds. Every kind.”

“And what do you see between us?” she asked boldly. 

Azriel looked at her with surprise, but didn’t say anything. 

The Historian cocked his head to the side and then told them.

“You are mated.”

At that, Elain jolted, looking at him in bewilderment, only to hear him add, “To another.”

Her expression fell and she said dryly, “yes. I am aware.”

After a pause, they continued their talk, the man proving to be a wealth of information, especially when it came to food customs. 

-

Days Three and Four

Anemone.

The Historian told them that anemone, the flower of the dead, was the plant that was commonly used for decorations. Especially the red ones with black centres, and the white ones. It was especially important for those who had lost close family members recently. And who didn’t, after the war?

The problem was–where in the world would Elain find anemone this time of year? Or in Prythian?

It grew in the Human Lands, and Elain was familiar with it–a pretty field-like flower which needed a lot of sun and bloomed in the summer.

She contacted all the flower shops and green nurseries in Velaris, but none carried the mysterious flower.

Besides this flower dilemma, things were going well with the preparations.

She and Azriel spent a lot of time together, which was something she needed to get used to. But he was gentle and helpful, and she recalled the carefree times from before when they could just talk and stay together in a comfortable silence. It was similar to how they were together right now. 

There was something that Azriel was preoccupied with ever since they had returned from the Historian. Elain wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but she overheard the man say to Azriel just as they were leaving…well, she wasn’t sure what she’d heard. A couple of words. But ‘your right’ and ‘destiny’ were among them. Since then, Azriel seemed deep in thought whenever they had a moment to themselves. Elain didn’t pry though. His secrets were his own.

Meanwhile, together, they devised a guest list–Hgh Lords and Ladies, merchants, dignitaries, High Fae, Lesser Fae, Illyrians. It was a long list, but Elain wanted to be inclusive of everyone. When Azriel began protesting the inclusion of Illyrians, she told him that they had suffered the greatest losses in the war and therefore were definitely going to be part of the celebration. He pouted. Pouted. Told her that they wouldn’t attend anyway. She smiled and said ‘we’ll see’. 

-

“Marshmallow eggs,” Azriel announced, interrupting, as he entered the kitchen.

Elain, Cerridwen and Nuala turned at the sound of his voice.

“Excuse me?” Elain said, wondering what he was talking about. 

“Oh,” Cerridwen rolled her eyes, “here we go,”

“Yeah!” Azriel nodded aggressively. “Yes! I want marshmallow eggs!”

“We’ll get you marshmallow eggs,” Nuala promised kindly.

“That’s not all,” he insisted and then pointed to the journal in front of them, which was filled with rows of food ideas, some underlined, others scratched out. 

“This is what I want,” he handed them a list. He made a list.

The following was Azriel shadowsinger’s list of food requirements:

Apple cake with almonds

Pistachio and almond rolls

Bilberry tarts

Chocolate sponge with buttercream

Caramel carrot slices

Coffee sponge with walnut cream

Cheesecake with pears

Curd tarts

Lardy cakes

Jellies

Prune pastries with poppyseeds

Jam Rolls

Saffron bread

Topfen cake

Cake Florent

And no, Elain did not know what half of these were.

“Are there enough cakes and pastries?” she confirmed, glaring at him.

“Yes, but I forgot to add the marshmallow eggs,” he exclaimed, and then scribbled this addition on the page.

“Will your heart be able to handle it?” Elain pondered, unable to stop smiling. He was ridiculous.

“A better question is if Cassian would be able to handle it,” Cerridwen contradicted. 

“Oh, add honey cake with hazelnuts,” Azriel snapped his fingers, ignoring them and apparently running through all the possible sweets he could come up with in his head.

“Poor Cass,” Nuala shook her head, “the sheer amount of sweets will send him into convulsions!”

“Don’t care! He doesn’t have to eat any of them,” Azriel barked roughly.

Elain propped her cheek and asked, looking between the three of them, “what is this all about, exactly?”

“The shadowsinger likes his sweets,” Nuala said flatly.

“He is obsessed,” Cerridwen added.

“I am not obsessed!” Azriel argued.

“He is. He really is.”

“He will eat them all,” Nuala assured.

“He will,” Cerridwen echoed.

“He is obsessed with sweets. If you want him to bow to your will, just hand him a berry tart and he is all yours.”

Elain laughed at that.

“I’ll keep that in mind!” she promised.

Azriel threw her an unreadable look and said, “you wouldn't need to bribe me with anything.”

With that, he left the kitchen.

The twins exchanged smirks and glances and Elain warned them, “don’t start.”

“We didn’t say anything.”

-

Day Nine

Five days until the celebration and Elain Archeron was annoyed.

She was annoyed because Rhysand gave her so little time to complete all of this and come out on the other side with an incredible celebration. 

The twins were an amazing help, as usual, and she enlisted cooks and chefs from Velaris’s best restaurants and pastry shops, but it still didn’t seem like enough. Azriel’s enormous list of sweets kept growing, and Elain had to resort to hiding the final list because otherwise, if he had his way,  they’d end up with a hundred desserts.

Pumpkins were delivered from nearby farms and were placed strategically all around Velaris, and the entire city glowed with orange lights, which came courtesy of Rhysand’s magic. Beautiful embroidered Illyrian tablecloths and napkins were sent to the River House, and despite Azriel’s protestations, it seemed like numerous Illyrians would be attending the festivities. Cassian was pleased and astonished by this particular achievement–he couldn’t believe that Elain somehow convinced dozens of Illyrian commanders to come to Velaris for a …party. 

Azriel was in charge of negotiating with proprietors of various stalls and shops, and since he always came back with perfect results and signed agreements, Elain figured that the poor sellers at the Palace of Bone and Salt were so terrified of having to deal with him, they agreed to anything. Azriel was oblivious to his own menacing presence, and sweetly believed that he was just an excellent negotiator. Elain didn’t have the heart to dash his hopes. He was rather proud of himself and she preferred to keep it that way.

Despite some of the setbacks and miscommunications and the tight deadline, things were progressing nicely.

Except for the Cauldron blasted anemone!

It wasn’t available anywhere. 

Elain had asked Feyre to speak with the High Lords of other Courts–the warmer ones–and see if they were aware of the flower and whether it was blooming right now? Tarquin of Summer and Helion of Day said ‘no’, while it was pointless to ask Viviane of Winter. The one High Lord that might have actually had the flower at his Court was Tamlin of Spring, but alas, Elain wasn’t motivated enough to obtain the flowers if it meant forcing Feyre to communicate with him.

Therefore, anemone remained elusive.

Azriel was helpful and knowledgeable in some things, and for that Elain was grateful, for in other things, he was hopeless. The way he acted sometimes, she would’ve thought that he’s never done this before. Supposedly they all had planned this holiday celebration prior, and yet he seemed mystified by some of the questions that Elain asked him. Granted, he was a male. And Elain’s expectations were fairly low, and she repeatedly told herself to be grateful that she was doing this with him and not Cassian, for example. However, it still frustrated her when Azriel couldn’t answer simple questions. 

When he grew frustrated with something, or somebody annoyed him, he began calling her ‘beautiful’ or ‘flower’ as in ‘I really don’t remember, beautiful!’ or ‘Flower, why don’t you make a decision?’ And it’s not that Elain wanted to agitate him on purpose, but she liked it when he used the little pet names, and maybe, just maybe, she teased him unnecessarily at times, just to have him throw a ‘beautiful!’ at her. Beyond the little slips though, Azriel always kept an appropriate distance and didn’t permit himself any frivolities with her. Which, Elain supposed, was for the best anyway. Especially because her mate was coming for the celebration. 

Of course he was. 

It was late in the afternoon and Elain was going through her checklist to make sure that everything was in order. She hasn't been sleeping well in the past few days, overwhelmed by the sense of responsibility, but also, Azirel’s endless close proximity. It didn’t matter that he kept his distance–Elain didn't want him to keep his distance, but she also dreaded not being near him. Each hour was spent watching him, and Elain never got tired of it: the dark tattoos that peeked from his collar and his sleeves, how he crossed his arms on his chest and the biceps bulged obscenely against the material of his tunic, his long legs, always splayed just enough to cause Elain some uncomfortably pleasant thoughts. She loved watching him. Loved hearing his voice, its gravelly, deep timbre. When she didn’t allow herself to watch him before, she now ogled because it was acceptable. 

“I am not sure if I should tell you this.”

Azriel’s voice startled her and Elain jolted in her chair. She raised her eyes and saw him standing in the doorway.

He was looking down, fumbling with his sleeves, not meeting her eyes.

“Tell me what?” she asked softly. “Because whatever it is, you do want to tell me, otherwise you wouldn’t be standing here.”

He smiled.

“You got me there.”

“So what is it?” she twirled her pen in her fingers, watching him.

He thought for a few long moments and then said,

“I know where to find anemone.”

The pen slipped out of her fingers as she lurched upwards and cried out, “you do?!! Why didn’t you tell me?!!”

He rubbed his chin and then said,

“It’s complicated.”

“Oh…” she moaned. “Of course it is. Do I have to fight some monster in order to obtain it? If that’s the case, then count me out,”

He chuckled,

“Even if I am there to protect you?”

“Even then,” she concluded firmly. “So, where is it?”

“You won’t need to fight a monster,” he assured her at last. “Unless you think that I am one?”

Elain stared at him and then spoke, “no. You aren’t. Not to me…”

Azriel looked straight at her and asked, “Will you trust me?”

She stood up and nodded.

“I trust you. Nothing that you do or what you are frightens me.”

He glanced out the window. Thunderclouds were gathering over the mountains and the wind picked up, making the hanging lanterns swing violently outside the window.

“We’ll have to hurry. We’ll winnow part of the way, but then we’ll need to fly,” he told her, extending his hand towards her. Elain looked back at her opened journal, grabbed it just in case and then took his hand. 

“Where are we…” she began saying, but she didn’t get the chance to finish her thought as she and Azriel were sucked into the vortex of darkness and space. 

“Goooiiinnnng?” she breathed out once they landed on a grassy field. She stumbled and held her tightly around the waist, steadying her.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“No need. Took me a while before I learned how to land properly.”

Elain looked around. There was nothing as far as the eye could see but rolling hills and oak trees, as well as grazing sheep.

Azriel opened his arms and said, “Jump on, beautiful.”

Elain tugged on her dress nervously and stepped closer to him. Flying in someone’s arms was always strange–whether it was Rhysand or Cassian. The feeling multiplied by a hundred when she was flying with Azriel. He always held her differently from the others–tightly and reverently. Like she meant something to him. Like she was precious and he cared about her and her comfort.

Gracefully, Elain stepped into the circle of his arms and he lifted her easily, his arms solid, secure bands under her knees and behind her back.

“Arms around my neck,” he instructed.

Rhys never asked for that. Neither did Cassian.

Elain squinted at him but did as he told her and looped her arms around his neck.

It always fascinated her how they lifted off–no running, no preamble of any kind–just straight up in the air. Cassian liked to do all kinds of stupid, reckless things, and Rhysand was more gentle and careful, but Azriel was…slow and gradual. And that was perfection. That’s exactly how Elain loved being lifted off the ground and then hang precariously in the air, hundreds of feet above the ground. Azriel’s massive wings flapped so hard and so powerfully, they caused a booming sound to reverberate in the cold air around them. And it was cold. She shivered and curled closer to his wide, warm chest.

“It’s not a long flight,” he calmed her. “I am sorry, we should’ve taken your jacket. Sometimes I forget that regular Fae get cold.”

“And you don’t?”

“No, I don’t. I got used to it.”

The way he said it…It wasn’t a good memory and Elain didn’t want to press him on it.

“I'm alright,” she lied.

He smiled and wrapped his arms tighter.

“So, where are we going?”

“Home.”

Day Ten

Home.

Azriel, the spymaster of Night Court and shadowsinger, brought Elain Archeron home.

They were flying over the soft sloping hills, which gradually gave way to rocky cliffs, until Elain spotted a glistening purple-blue lake. 

“It’s so beautiful,” she gasped under her breath.

It was indeed. Even in the gathering storm on the horizon, the lake churned and smashed against the rocks on the left, but was calm and pristine on the right. And then, she saw it. A small, but not too small island, which poked out of the water a few miles from the shore. It was rocky, but covered in green grass and thick tree canopies of various autumnal colours. In the middle of the island, similar to the House of Wind, stood a massive mansion, which seemed to float above the water and pop right out of the rocks. 

“Is this home?” Elain whispered, amazed and flabbergasted.

“It is,” Azriel nodded. 

And then she understood why they were flying. An invisible barrier–wards–brushed against them, but parted as Azriel approached. Their strength was such that even he had to power through the invisible wall of magic.

As if reading her mind, he explained, “I thought that the House of Wind had a good idea in terms of security–you cannot winnow inside. When I purchased this place, I felt that it would make good sense to do the same here.”

“That’s why we have to fly,” she stated. 

“Yes. We can winnow onto my lands,”

“All of that was yours?” she exclaimed in shock.

“Yeah. But the wards start at the shore, and then continue all the way to the island.”

As he began banking it was then that Elain saw it.

Anemone.

Fields of it.

Slopes covered in multi-coloured beds of flowers. 

“How is this possible?!” she cried out excitedly.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “They’ve always been here. I never paid attention to them. I don’t even come here all that frequently, so I sort of forgot about them. Until the Historian mentioned them.”

“Don’t you think it’s very serendipitous?” she marvelled. 

“I suppose that these are the connections that he was speaking of,” he reminded her, as he landed smoothly on one of the balconies. 

“We must pick them at once!” Elain decided right then and there, and Azriel chuckled at her eagerness.

“Fine. I’ll get some baskets.”

-

The thunderstorm brought them back inside after about an hour and a half of picking flowers, placing them in different baskets, sorted by colour. Azriel found something out about Elain that he wasn’t aware of before–she could keep things alive. A wave of her hand and the cut flowers promised to be just as fresh as they were today by the time the holiday rolled on. Azriel wished to find out more about this ability of hers, but he didn’t think that it was appropriate to do today.

By the time they ran back into the house, they were dripping wet. Azriel probably could have thrown a shield over them, but frankly, it totally slipped his mind.

So now, Elain stood in front of him, shivering from the cold, her dress clinging to her curves, her long hair dripping on the parquet floor.

“Oh gods, I am such a mess!” she fussed, trying to stop the deluge of water that was leaking onto the floor.

“It’s not an issue, you know,” Azriel mumbled, threading his fingers through his wet hair. “I am sorry I forgot the shield,”

“It’s alright!” she interrupted him, her lips blue but her cheeks red. “Are we…we…returning soon?”

He considered, looking outside the window.

“It’s coming down rather hard and we’d have to fly. Not that I can’t fly in the rain, however, I’d rather not do that while carrying you,” he told her honestly. 

“Oh,” she wrung out her hair, “but then…what do we do?” she blinked at him, her blush growing redder.

“You need a hot bath,” he said firmly and then took her by the hand and pulled her after him.

Elain looked around–it was a place that she’d imagine Azriel living in. Stylish, seemingly out of a different era and another world, orderly, clean. Large pieces of furniture, smartly arranged in the rooms. Wide open spaces. Unfussy decor, but expensive taste.

They walked up a stone and wrought iron staircase and soon Azriel opened one of the doors, ushering Elain inside.

It was a bedroom.

She assumed his bedroom.

Her feet stopped moving and she froze at the entrance, murmuring, “I cannot…I can’t…”

“It’s this or nothing,” he said bluntly and pushed her inside, his warm, large hand on the small of her back.

“This is your bedroom!” she screeched, scrambling backwards.

“A keen observation indeed. You are staying here or we are flying back in the pouring freezing rain. These are your choices,” he warned dangerously. Then, to soften his approach, he pointed to the door and said, “the bathing room is over there.”

Elain pursed her lips, while feeling a warm glow slowly slither down her body, despite the wet chill that she was feeling. Azriel…Azriel was forbidden. A mistake. He told her that they were a mistake about 11 months ago. But in the past ten days, he certainly hasn’t been acting like he was regretting being next to her. In fact, he was downright amorous in some ways, even if he tried not to show it. All that aside, what was she even thinking? She needed to keep herself and all her carnal urges in check.

“Fine!” she hissed. “But I am counting on you to be honourable and,”

“Whatever you say,” he shrugged. “I am not here to ravish you.”

Nevertheless, he followed her into the bathing room. There was a massive tub, but also a shower–something that Bryce Quinlan told them about from her world. Nesta, of course, jumped at the opportunity to get one fitted at the House of Wind. It would appear that Azriel was also in favour.

“Don’t take too long,” he said, turning on the knob, “I am cold too.”

“So, are you going to just stand here, while I undress?” she queried. 

“Wouldn’t mind it,” he replied over the rush of the water from the showerhead. “If you need any help,”

“I shan’t require any!” she snapped at him primly and he laughed merrily. 

“If you say so. The drying cloths are all here,” he pointed to a cupboard. “I think you can figure out soaps and lotions yourself.”

“Thank you.”

The hot water was beginning to steam the room and she looked at him through the fog.

Stop. Thinking. About. It. 

“Last call for assistance?” he offered. 

“I am fine.”

“Your loss,” he shrugged and then left the room at last. 

Elain exhaled loudly. If it wasn't for the heat in the bathroom, she would’ve guessed that she was sweating. 

Quickly stripping off her sodden dress, she stepped under the water and moaned out loud. Her hand immediately flew to her mouth and she muted herself, hoping that he didn’t hear her. His laughter from the bedroom confirmed otherwise.

She lathered her body, then her hair, and stood under the blast of hot water for gods’ only knew how long. But it was glorious. And she didn’t want to leave. 

At last, she remembered that Azriel was also wet and cold and probably needed the shower as well.

She rinsed and stepped out, noticing that the floor was heated and pondered whether it would be something that Rhysand should add to the River House.

“You decent?” Azriel asked, and before she could answer, he pulled the door open, clearly unconcerned by whether she was actually decent or if she stood there butt naked. 

“There is no food,” he announced quickly, unbuttoning his shirt, pulling on strings in the back and releasing it from around his wings. Elain just stood there, wrapped in the drying cloth, barefoot, with her legs exposed, staring at him openmouthed. He was just….undressing. In front of her. 

The gall!

He didn’t seem to care, because he continued shucking off his clothes, going on to unlace his trousers, and added, “but there was hot chocolate and I made you a cup. It’s on the nightstand.”

“Are we spending the night?”

“We are,” he nodded. 

“Where am I sleeping?”

“Your choices are: my bed or my bed. Granted, it’s not many choices to actually choose from, but that’s what it is.”

This man was out of his mind, and Elain didn’t know what to say.

“Grab a tunic of mine or you may sleep naked,” he offered. “I am fine with either one, though I do have a preference.”

“I can only imagine…” her voice trailed.

She slipped out of the bathing room just before he dropped his trousers. 

In the bedroom, she finished drying her body and her hair, and then went to the chest of drawers and found a white tunic of his. She put it on over her naked body, only now recalling that all her clothes, including her undergarments, were in the bathing room. Well, nothing she could do about that now. She was tired. Despite being extremely wound up, she was tired. She cradled the cup with hot chocolate in her hands and took a sip. It tasted divine–sweet and rich and so very chocolatey.

She couldn't even wrap her mind around what she was doing when she pulled the covers and slipped into the bed. She didn’t know what side Azriel slept on, and she didn’t care. Surely he wouldn’t actually sleep with her in the same bed! That would be preposterous.

The sheets and the pillows smelled fresh, of Azriel’s cedar-like scent. She rolled onto her side, tucking her hands beneath her cheek and then glanced towards the bathing room. The door was ajar and her heart jumped in her chest, when she glanced at Azriel’s completely naked body. Brown and glistening and beautiful beyond belief. He was muscular, and his tattoos spilled down his back, his chest and there was a whole string of some kind of runes etched down his spine. At some point, he must have felt her eyes on him, because he smirked and glanced in the mirror, catching her staring. His wing flipped back and exposed him completely, soliciting a gasp from Elain’s lips. Because…there it was. 

Huge.

He was huge.

Her eyes bugged out of her head, as she observed him. 

Even flaccid, he was enormous. ‘Impossible to fit’ enormous.

Granted, Elain wouldn’t consider herself very knowledgeable in the art of the bedroom, and had only seen one other cock in her life–Graysen’s. But Graysen was a mortal man, tall and strong, but human. Azriel wasn’t human. That much was obvious. Even if she managed to forget a pair of great reptilian wings that sprung out of his back, his height, his size and his physique definitely didn’t make him human. And now, there was that. Also, utterly inhuman. Yes, she was Fae too, and very hard to break, but Azriel’s cock would certainly break her. 

He was better for fantasising, and not for reality.

A boom of thunder woke her up. She slept so deeply, she only vaguely heard the steady drumming of rain on the balcony and against the windows. Sleepily, she extended her hand out and for a moment expected to find a warm male body next to her, but the sheets were cold and she was alone in the bed. 

She didn’t know if she was disappointed or relieved. 

She also didn't know if he’d gone to bed at all, or if he slept somewhere else in the house. 

Opening her eyes, she saw that it was still dark outside, with only the palest glimmer of sunlight peeking above the horizon, beyond the lake and the mountains. It was windy and dark, the night skies slashed repeatedly by lightning strikes and claps of thunder. 

It was during one such flash of lightning that she saw a great winged figure standing outside on the terrace. He was wearing only his black undershorts and his wings were relaxed, the bottom tips touching the floor.

She wasn’t sure why, but Elain tossed the blanket aside and set her bare feet on the soft carpet. She tugged on the hem of the tunic and then padded softly to the balcony. Cold autumn air lashed at her the moment she stepped outside and she shivered, though it seemed that Azriel didn’t even notice the pelting rain that bounced off the railing and peppered him with freezing water. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he suddenly snarled at her, without turning his head. “Go back inside.”

She stopped abruptly in her tracks, taken aback by his vicious tone.

“Did…did I do something?” she whispered.

“No. You didn’t,” he turned on his heels, so quick that she stumbled and almost fell back, but his massive arm caught her before she fell. 

His look was furious though, his brows bunched above his nose, his expression both angry and pained. He gripped her upper arm tightly, almost bruising her and then pulled her towards him. 

“A…z…” she breathed, shocked because in the next moment, he suddenly lifted her off the ground and pinned her to the wall of the building. Her legs naturally wrapped around his muscular thighs and he grabbed her hands, pinning them above her head, his face all but an inch away from hers. There was a moment of stillness, where there was just the cold rain and the lightning slashing the horizon, and their warm, panting breaths.

Elain’s mouth parted slightly, as she watched him and the indecision on his face. So she cocked her head to the side, exposing her throat for him, offering him everything he wanted from her. And she watched how his expression morphed into something sensual and decisive, as his lips found hers and he moaned softly into her mouth.

Everything, everything she wanted finally came down to this moment and it felt perfectly right. Even the brutality of the kiss didn’t take away from the tender longing that always lived between them. Azriel’s loneliness, his self doubt and self-hatred, Elain’s insecurities and her cursed bond–all were washed away by the fusion of their lips together.

This was Azriel. Her Azriel, whom she craved and yearned for since the night they saw each other back in the Human Lands. Kept apart by people, circumstances, obligations and expectations, right now, in this moment, maybe they could just come together and forget all about the things that separated them. 

He was hot and big and once he released her hands from his hold, she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him to her, burying her fingers in his thick hair.

“I want to bite you,” he groaned against her neck.

“Bite me then,” she welcomed.

“There would be no going back, you know,” he warned. “Not if I bite you.”

He hefted her higher, her unbound breasts sliding up and down his bare chest, the thin material of her tunic the only barrier between them. He stepped even closer, pressing her hips and her bottom into the smooth stone of the house wall and Elain felt him…scorching and eager and ready for her. Azriel didn’t bite her yet, but instead, trailed soft, hot kisses down her neck, her shoulder and stopped at the swell of her breast, before pulling her nipple roughly inside his mouth and sucking aggressively, his teeth clamping on the little swollen bud.

She cried out, in both pain and incredible pleasure, while propping her feet against the stone railing and giving him more space to manoeuvre. She needed his mouth. His hands. His body. All of it. The thought of this monster of a man becoming hers was dizzying and it was making her feel drunk. Azriel’s massive shoulders moved and flexed beneath her hands, while he sucked on her other nipple and she managed to reach between their bodies and pulled down his underwear, freeing that beast of a cock at last. 

There was no going back now. Even if she knew that should she say ‘no’ he would stop, she didn’t think that she could do it. She didn’t want to stop. She let him pull back from her breasts and grip the tunic firmly, before ripping it off her and leaving her naked in front of him. Her long hair tumbled over her torso, and he brushed it back impatiently, his eyes glued to her form.

“Every day I dream of you,” he whispered heatedly, stepping forward so that he was positioned between her thighs, “I dream and I know that I cannot have you. And I want to tear apart the world and destroy the Cauldron for not giving you to me. Because you are mine. You know this. I know this. You’ve always been mine.”

He gripped the thick length of his cock in his hand and rubbed the sleek, heavy head of it between the lips of her pussy. She moaned, throwing her head back against the stone, shivering and shaking with need and anticipation.

“I am,” she managed to say. “I am yours. Always have been. You were chosen for me,”

“And yet,” he began to say, but she clamped her hand over his mouth. 

“Nothing really matters. Only you and me. Together.”

He looked down again, his shaft dark and sturdy between her pale thighs and against her bare mound. 

“Do you know how many times I’ve imagined possessing this sweet pussy of yours?” he marvelled, his voice hoarse. “Three years of celibacy…only because I knew that no other pussy would compare. No other pussy interested me.”

He fisted his cock harder and lined it along her wet, warm hole, which quivered at the feel of him. 

“Are you a virgin?” he asked, pausing. “I could never tell…”

She shook her head.

“I’ve done it. Once.”

A smile bloomed on his mouth. 

“Once?”

She nodded.

“I’ll try, but I can’t promise gentleness,” he said honestly.

She felt the head of his cock part her entrance, pushing in just a bit.

“I don’t need you to be gentle. I need you,” she said simply.

He still held himself in check, just the tip of him inside of her, the stretch already agonisingly pleasurable for her. She moved impatiently, trying to take in more of him, but he held back.

“Like I said before, beautiful,” he warned, “once you are mine, you are mine. Damn your mate, damn Rhysand, and damn everything else. Once I own you, I own you forever.”

“Then own me,” she growled. “Take me however you want. Use me. Fill me up with your seed. Control me. Bleed me with your cock. Give me everything.”

His hazel eyes turned dark and menacing.

“Own my pussy,” she offered. “Own my body. Leave your scent all over me, so that everyone knows who I belong to.”

Azriel chose not to argue at that moment, and instead, he pushed his massive, scorching shaft deep inside of her in one brutal, solid move. 

She cried out into the storm, enveloped in his darkness, in his love.

Just like she expected, he was fucking massive. It was like being split in half by an unyielding ram, and she shook on his cock, momentarily wishing that it would just end and he’d withdraw.

But no. With her breath ripped away by every tiny movement of his shaft, she secretly wanted more. She clenched pathetically around him, while he dipped his face to her neck and licked her skin. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and he pulled almost all the way out, before shoving back in and biting her neck at the same time.

The pain between her legs and in her neck made her feel faint, as he savagely tore through her pussy, marking her, moulding her, taking her for himself. 

“Auuu,” she moaned, scratching his back, while he sucked and bit her neck. It hurt so good, but it hurt nevertheless.

Instead of stopping or easing, he thrust even harder in her, deeper, opening her up completely.

“Take it,” came his order. “Take it all.”

“I am,” she breathed. “It hurts.”

“Good,” he said simply. “It should. An Illyrian warrior and a Fae is taking your soft, wet pussy for the first time. Of course it would hurt.”

She clung to him, getting pounded in with savage, deep thrusts, her pussy both needy, but on fire from how large he was. 

“Do you like it?” she whispered, kissing his lips. “Am I taking you well?”

He smiled and stroked her cheek. 

“My perfect girl,” his tongue brushed her lips. “With a perfect little hole for me to use. Do you like it, sweetheart?”

She nodded, moaning, “it’s so big.”

He smirked, “oh, I know, flower. Your pussy is full of the largest Illyrian cock and you are taking me so well.”

For some absurd reason, that made Elain proud. 

“I am going to turn us around, beautiful,” he told her, “so I can ride you harder.”

She barely even understood him, but allowed him to do what he wanted. 

He spun her around, and she propped her hands on the railing, her fists getting pelted with rain at once. His large, warm hands smoothed down her back and over her behind with appreciation, and he kicked her legs wider apart, before inserting himself back inside her battered hole.

“Oh gods,” was all she managed to groan, while his hand clamped on her shoulder and he held her steady, as he pounded into her.

Her breasts bounced hard from his rapid thrusting, and he looked at them, craning his neck, and smiling.

“How are you doing, beautiful?” he asked, wrapping his fist with her hair. 

“Like I am being railed by the biggest Illyrian cock,” she grunted and he laughed heartily. She couldn’t help herself and laughed as well.

“And?”

“I love taking your cock,” she vowed softly. “I love all of you on me. Please ride me,”

“Oh, I am, flower. You are getting ridden for the three years of me not riding you.”

He dipped his fingers inside her mouth and said, “suck”.

She did. She licked and sucked his scarred fingers, feeling wild and out of control.

“You should’ve taken me earlier,” she told him, once he pulled out from her mouth and she looked over her shoulder at him. 

He looked at her, barely able to tear his gaze away from his shaft pumping in and out of her pink hole, and nodded, “I should have. I should’ve claimed you for my own right after the war. But, there were complications.”

She sighed, and he slapped her ass cheek lightly.

“Now, to rectify this a bit, you will fuck yourself on my dick, like the good girl that you are, but you will also pull apart your ass cheeks for me,” he commanded. 

Elain bit her lower lip and then reached down wordlessly, while he held her shoulder, and did as she was told–even though he was crude and she was embarrassed, she grabbed her bottom and pulled her cheeks apart for him, exposing her little hole.

She watched for his reaction over her shoulder and his face split into a satisfied grin. 

“Perfect,” he approved. “From now on, whenever you are taking me from behind, you will keep yourself open and your little asshole on display.”

She didn’t respond, too overwhelmed by how deeply he was driving into her. What he did next took her breath away completely–he circled her asshole with his fingers and pushed two inside. 

“Ahhhhh,” she cried out, stilling.

It felt…insane.

With his mega dick inside of her, and now his fingers in her ass, she thought that she was going to faint. He stopped moving too and then said sternly, “I didn’t hear you say ‘yes, of course’.”

She nodded frantically. 

“Yes, I am sorry. Yes, of course I will.”

“Now, show me how much you like my dick in your pussy. Fuck yourself on it. I’ll finger your little hole while you do it. If I don’t like how you take me, I will stop.”

And Elain did what he told her. 

She wasn't sure why, but she wanted to submit to him. Her neck ached from the bites. She moved her hips on his cock, gliding over it. She wanted to please him. She wanted to serve him.

He was rough and demanding, objectionable in every way, but she couldn’t get enough of him. Of his body. His musk. His cock.

His gaze made her insides clench with desire for him. Everything about him was perfect–his stunning body, his dominance, his control. He knew what he wanted and he took it. 

Banding his arm around her stomach and waist, Azriel pulled her back, and then, with his dick and his fingers still inside of her, he plummeted heavily on the padded bench, taking her with him. 

“I want to watch you climax, sweetheart,” he whispered warmly in her ear, while he fucked up into her from the bottom. Her whole body was trembling and spasming with pleasure and each push of his cock brought her closer and closer to the pinnacle of pleasure. 

“I want to,” she breathed.

“I know,” he kissed the side of her neck, gently tweaking her nipple with his available hand. “Give it to me. Show me.”

Her fingers dug painfully into his knees, her breathing rugged and loud, as she squeezed him inside of her, milking him with her inner muscles.

Hot seed shot deep inside of her and she felt the moment that he released, as she cried out with desperation and shuddered violently atop of him. Unravelling a man like Azriel was something that made her strangely proud. It wasn’t something most women could claim, yet he was undone beneath her. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered into her cheek and then turned her face, so he could kiss her.

She was gasping for air as she kissed him messily, licking his tongue and his lips. He stroked her hair, smiling at her.

“Was that good?” he asked.

She nodded, “Indescribable.”

“Wonderful. But that was just round one. Now, I want round two…”

“Again?” she gasped.

“Did you think we were done?” he laughed.

“But…”

“You will turn around and sit on my face,”

“WHAT?” she exclaimed, eyes wide, her pulse beating wildly beneath her skin.

“You heard me.”

He carefully lifted her up off his still-hard dick and looked at her with male satisfaction.

He’d made her bleed. 

She wasn’t surprised exactly. He probably tore something inside of her. Graysen’s human member was no match for Azriel’s Illyrian cock. 

“Well, look at that! maybe I took your virginity after all,” he joked, and then leaned back on the bench.

Elain stood there, watching him in all his sprawling, relaxed glory.

He was indeed a beast, dressed in the skin of the most beautiful Fae imaginable. 

His skin glistened in the early morning light, the tattoos taking on a life of their own. He was firm, and solid all over, his body an unforgiving network of scars and muscles. His wings were spread out, a magnificent border around the two of them.

And he was hers.

Somehow, he was hers.

She lowered herself on his lap, straddling his thighs. He cupped her breasts in his hands and then leaned in to kiss her.

“You are dripping with my seed,” he noted, looking down.

She blinked and nodded. 

“I am.”

She was.

“Best sight I’ve ever seen.”

He bit her neck again, gentler this time. But then asked,

“I told you to sit on my face, not my lap.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t disobey me again, or I’ll punish this pretty pussy.”

She exhaled. There was nothing to say to his vulgar words. She was all in. With him. 

-

All Hallow’s Eve

“Death? Really?” 

Rhysand’s sarcastic voice interrupted Azriel’s consumption of a walnut and cinnamon bun. The shadowsinger turned around and cocked a disbelieving brow at the High Lord. 

“You are dressed as a spy,” he scoffed. “Are you really the one to talk?”

“Maybe I always wanted to be like you. Lurking in the shadows. Ravishing maidens.”

“I don’t have to ravish them,” Azriel argued, his eyes never leaving the sight of Elain, who was dressed as the Death of Spring–her face carefully painted, her costume decorated with large flowers. She flitted about the enormous reception room, chatting with guests, smiling, drinking spooky cocktails. 

The mansion was decorated with pumpkins and bundles of anemone, candles suspended high up in the air, phantom wind blowing gently and ruffling everyone’s unique costumes. 

Nesta was dressed as a black swan and it suited her. Cassian came to the party dressed as a wizard, and now was dancing with Feyre, who was dressed as a…huntress. Not very original, in Azriel’s opinion, but he kept that to himself.

“The maidens come to me themselves,” Azriel pointed out.

“So it would seem,” Rhys sipped his liquor. “You know,”

“Really not interested in what you are about to say,” Azriel waved him off.

“Only that I can smell you on her…”

“Good. As you should.”

“Her mate is here.”

“He is too late.”

Azriel looked Rhys straight in the eye and asked,

“Care to explain this whole ‘we took turns preparing the Hallow’s Eve party’ bullshit that you concocted?”

The High Lord chuckled.

“Oh, you liked that?”

“I am not sure,” Azriel admitted truthfully.

If it weren’t for Rhysand’s involvement, Elain wouldn’t be walking right now with Azriel’s seed dripping down her thighs.

“No, she wouldn’t,” Rhys smirked.

“Fucking stop that!” Azirel snarled.

“You can thank me later, brother,” Rhys clapped him on the back. “She bought it. You understood the assignment. And now…” his voice trailed. “Now she is yours at last.”

She was.

“She is,” Azriel nodded his confirmation. 

My right.

My destiny.

My woman.

[m30wk1ttycat]

wish you were sober

pairing: newt x masc!med-jack!reader

tw: alcohol consumption, blood, mentions of newt's attempt, cussing

summary: during a bonfire, newt manages to land himself a nosebleed and a minor injury on his arm. while he gets tended to by the person he's been trying to hate since forever, he confesses, only that he's too drunk to actually process his own words.

yes, this is the enemies to lovers (sorta??) fic i've been working on. it's kinda short, i'm so sorry y'all!!

what all the gladers were aware of was the tension between you and newt. the glares he'd send you (or your patient) as he watched you tend to someone, his little remarks about you, how he'd constantly visit the med-jack hut just to talk to you or bother you in some way - none of it went unnoticed, as much as newt hoped it would/did. he hated you, he really did - it was just that he didn't hate you at all, and could never bring himself to feel any hate for the person who saved him that one day when he attempted to end it all.

like on most bonfire nights, you stayed in the med-jack hut, nose buried in some medical books that were barely used by anyone other than you.

gally would instigate brawls with any poor glader that stepped too close to the circle where the group of his builders was cheering him on, which is what made you stay here in the first place, waiting - or, rather expecting - to see one of the unfortunate boys limping their way to the homestead, where the med-jacks worked.

as you predicted, you heard a quiet knock at the makeshift door. looking up from your book, you saw the second-in-command standing in the doorway, a shaky hand over his bleeding nose.

"um, hey," he muttered, his voice sounding a lot softer than it usually did when he talked to you, "minho said i should come see you?"

you got up from your chair, setting the book down. great.

"what happened?" you asked, helping him sit down, while you looked through the shelves and cupboards to find the tissues. the perfectionist in you was annoyed at the fact that jeff and clint never allowed you to rearrange where certain items were. if they did, you'd be thankful, because where the hell were those damn tissues?

"ah.. well, you see," he paused, not knowing how to explain to you that his drunk ass thought it'd be a good idea to fight gally, much less be the one who even challenged him - which was never a good idea.

paper tissue in your hand, you make your way back to him.

"newt," you called, "can you-"

he looked up at you with eyes so glassy, you were convinced that he'd burst into tears at any moment. he almost looked like a toddler getting scolded.

"m'sorry!!"

sighing, you moved his hand away from his nose to try and stop the bleeding.

"don't be, i'm sure it wasn't your fault." you sounded so sure, so sure that it wasn't his fault. and, honestly, he let himself believe that, too.

"lean forwards a bit?" he nodded, doing as you requested. "now, pinch your nose here," you put the tissue in his hand, then guided his hand to the middle part of his nose.

"can you tell me what happened?" you tried again, your voice more gentle this time.

"i fought with gally?" he said in a way, almost as if questioning all of the decisions that he's made in his life so far. the decisions he remembers, anyway.

you hummed in acknowledgement, trying to keep up the small talk to distract him from the fact that you were attempting to clean the scrapes on his arm.

"yeah?"

"yeah.. i- i mean, i don't know why i did it, i just.. i did?" he slurred, watching his feet dangle above the ground with knitted eyebrows.

"did he challenge you?" you asked, wrapping up bandages around his bicep. he flinched when he finally noticed you tending to his upper arm.

he gulped, giving you a quick glance. "uh, no.."

you finished wrapping his minor injury, sitting down beside him.

"are you mad at me?"

"of course not. i could never be mad at you," you confessed, giving him a small smile that made him smile, too.

you liked seeing him smile. the only thing ruining it was that he was intoxicated, and wouldn't remember a thing from tonight. you could only imagine the look on his face he'd have when he woke up the next morning with a horrible hangover, along with the bandages around his left arm, and a few bruises littering his body.

"how long do i have to hold my nose, again?" he inquired.

"five minutes, maybe ten," you answered, placing your hands on the makeshift cot you two were sat on.

he nodded. once again, you both went silent. the only difference was that newt was watching you, while your eyes remained on the ground. some of the floor boards were split in half, you noticed. not that you liked admitting it - or thinking about it -, but the entire homestead wasn't exactly maintained properly. you'd complain to gally if you could, but you knew how he got when someone criticized his builds. he was the reason that the glade even had buildings to begin with, so you'd just have to deal with it until the runners eventually found a way out of the maze.

".. hey?"

yout tore your gaze away from the broken wooden boards when you heard him softly call out. "yeah?"

"did i ever tell you about this one glader?"

"there's a lot of gladers in here," you pointed out.

"right.. um, i mean y/n. did i ever tell you about him?" he murmured.

holding back a laugh, you shook your head. "n- no.."

"no?" he repeated what you just said, too drunk to process that he was talking to you about you.

"no," you confirmed.

"well," he started, "he's got this really cool scar on his nose from.. uh, well, i ain't got a clue how he got it, but s'cute. so, so cute. just makes 'em look even more bloody adorable."

"really?" you asked, covering your mouth. it was hard not to burst out into a fit of giggles when he looked so oblivious, and so happy to talk about this 'one glader' who just so happened to be you.

he nodded before continuing. "oh, and his smile. i like his smile. i like seeing him smile," he babbled. "makes those dimples pop, and it just.. just makes my mind go all fuzzy, and my heart beat like crazy."

"makes your heart beat like crazy? maybe you should get that checked out," you jokingly suggested.

"naww," he giggled. "s'nothin' serious. i think. i wouldn't know, i'm not a med-jack like y/n is. y/n's so smart.."

feeling your cheeks heat up at the compliment coming from newt - the same newt who you were convinced hated your guts ever since you helped him recover from his broken leg - you felt flattered, hearing him speak so sweetly of you. even if he wasn't aware that it was you who he was speaking about + to.

"you're also smart, though," you told him.

he gave you a small shrug. "i don't know, i do stupid stuff sometimes."

"everyone does, newt," you assured him, patting his shoulder.

"but i do think you should get some rest, yeah?"

reluctantly, he agreed and flopped onto the cot, laying on his back. closing his eyes, the corners of his mouth turned up, which made you smile, too. "what're you thinking about?"

"i don't even know. just.. mostly y/n," he murmured, turning to lay on his side. "can you wake me up at, about, um, eight?"

"of course," you promised.

"thank you. g'night."

"night, newt."

[phoenix-eclipses]

Casting Love 0.15 -- Studying Alone

Focusing on your studying wasn't an easy task to do at your place, so you had gone to the library instead. You weren't unfamiliar with the space, but most of your studying time had been working beside Hajime in your place. The few times you had gone to the library had been for group projects, so the silence of working alone was unusual. Sitting too close to anyone else felt awkward, so you placed yourself at a table alone, hoping your concentration would be better than it had been before.

Music playing in your ears as you kept tracing your eyes over the same sentence, over and over. None of the words seeming to fully process. You let out a sigh, leaning back in your chair while trying to decide what to do. Your thoughts were broken by a familiar voice calling out your name. You adjust your headphones to uncover one of your ears as you glance around. Your eyes land on Kenma's roommate, waving at you as he walks up to where you're sitting.

"YN! Nice to see you again!" he plops himself down on the chair beside you, placing his bag down as he grins at you.

"Hi Kuroo!" you fully take off your headphones, pausing your music as you turn to properly talk to him. "What are you here to work on?"

"I've been here for a bit, working on a group project," he lets out a sigh. "They ended up needing to leave for different things."

"You don't sound too upset about them needing to leave, that bad?" you let out a small laugh at the pout he gives you.

"Don't even get me started! The professor was supposed to place us in groups with people with similar interests so we can agree all work on something we care about, but no one in my class wanted to talk about football so now I'm stuck in a group of people who are focused on golfing! Like good for them, but that's just not exactly what I want to spend my time researching."

"Golfing??" you let out a small, shocked chuckle. "How did your professor decide that was the best group to place you in? Like you'd think they would pick some group that was reporting on a similar sport or something."

"He was worried this group would be too small compared to the others, or at least that was his excuse. I just hope this goes by quickly," he lets out a sigh as you nod your head.

"I hope for your sake too. I've had my fair share of horrible group projects."

"Enough about my suffering, what are you working on?" he moves closer to you to glance at what was displayed on your laptop.

"Well... I was hoping to study more because I have an exam next week... but I honestly haven't been able to focus that much."

"Hm, have you eaten anything?"

"Er... no?"

"Let's go get something to eat! Or I can finally make you something. Eating, or just getting away from staring at the screen for a bit, always helps. Clearly sitting here isn't helping you very much," he sits up, closing your laptop for you. "And after we eat, then you can continue trying, sound good?"

"Yea... that would probably help. Thanks, Kuroo."

"No problem! C'mon, let's go back to my place."

The walk back to Kuroo's place went by quickly as he chatted with you. Conversations with Kuroo seemed to flow by easily, he did pretty well at making sure to keep it engaging without making any awkward beats. Though, he did have a fair share of interesting jokes that make you give him questioning glances which he'd only return with a grin.

Once you guys entered, Kuroo tossed his bag off to the side and headed into the kitchen which you followed him into.

"Oh, and Kenma isn't here right now, he's out with Bokuto and Akaashi. Not sure when he'll be back."

"That's alright, no harm in spending time with his amazing roommate," you joke while taking a seat.

"Actually, it's Kenma's awesome roommate," he sends you a wink before turning to the fridge and pulling a few things out.

"Of course, of course, how could I forget," you roll your eyes. He sends you a grin before he starts working on making the food.

The whole time, Kuroo keeps up the conversation, multitasking perfectly well. You both enjoy the food and even manage to get some more time to study before realizing it was getting dark out.

"Kenma's definitely out late," you let out a hum.

"He rarely sees Akaashi, he doesn't go here. He just happened to be visiting, so while he might not say it out loud, he wants to spend some extra time with him. If it was just Bokuto, he would've been back by now," Kuroo laughs. "Though, I suppose it is getting quite late. Do you want me to walk you back to your place?"

"Hm... if you don't mind?"

"Sure! Let me grab my sweater and we can get going."

You give a small nod and he walks away, giving you a chance to gather your stuff before you both headed out of the building and started your trek to your dorm.

The moment the two of you entered your dorm building, Kuroo happened to pull out his phone and frown.

"Sorry, Kenma is calling, but I'll walk wait here till you text me to let me know you got back to your room."

You gave him a nod before heading to the elevator. Without any of the fancy protections, all you have to do is hit the button for the elevator to head to the lobby and open to take you up to your room.

Kuroo watches as the door close and talks quietly to Kenma, who was demanding for him to return back as soon as possible. He almost turns around after a few minutes, assuming you simply forgot to message him when the elevator doors open again and you come running out, looking around in a panic before your eyes land on him and running over immediately.

"Kuroo, can I stay the night at your place? Please? Like can we leave now?"

He raises a brow at your urgency but nods his head, walking with you quickly out the building, just missing as the elevator doors open once again and a man walks out, looking around the lobby in a hurry but not spotting whatever he was looking for.

0.14 -- Masterlist -- 0.16

Notes

Things are starting to pick up eee

Sorry for how long this took to come out, I've had a few exams so I put my focus on those

Kuroo is obviously not a love interest here but it's kind of like he's an important step to be able to understand Kenma so you guys are becoming besties, that is how it works

ALSO if I started actually posting/working on an Oikawa SMAU would people want it? Because I am debating if I wanna work on them at the same time or not because that SMAU like infects my brain tbh lol

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[woodlaflababab]

So, I got heavily inspired by this art by shange0211/Yishu and wanted to write a quick fic

This is just a snippet of Aang teaching Zuko how to dance.

-<>-

“Okay!” Aang started, brushing his hands over his robe to dispel nonexistent dust, “now that you know some simple solo moves, I want to teach you how to dance with other people.”

Zuko, who had progressively been getting over his reservations about this whole thing, went right back to looking at Aang like he was crazy. “What?”

“You know, dancing with a partner. Like the dragon dance, but uh,” Aang rubbed at the back of his head, “less firebending lessons.”

Zuko blinked at him a few times before putting his hands up and turning around. “No, I'm done.”

Before Zuko could take more than three steps, Aang was by his side, clinging to an arm. “Zuko!” Aang practically whined. “Come on, you've come this far, and dancing with other people is even more fun than dancing solo.” He tugged on Zuko's arm. “At least give it a shot.”

Zuko, becoming very familiar with this particular weakness of his, sighed and let Aang drag him to the middle of the room again.

“Okay, before I teach you any Fire Nation dances, I actually think we should start with a basic Earth Kingdom one.”

Zuko wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Why?”

“Fire Nation dances, while not as complicated as Water Tribe or air dances,” as Aang spoke, he backed away from Zuko and slid one hand behind his back while holding the other up in front of him, “move around, a lot.” With that, Aang started some dance routine, quickly moving across the floor. 

As he went, working his way around the room in a large circle, Zuko felt like he could kind of see where Aang was completing half of a dance, watching him move as though there was some phantom he danced with that only he could see. Zuko decided not to examine his immediate dislike for this theoretical phantom too closely.

After a bit, Aang seemed to close up his dance, coming to stand before Zuko once again and holding his hands neatly behind his back before dropping them. “Earth kingdom dances, however, tend to be simpler and easier to learn. At least,” he shrugged, “the common ones. There are a lot of special dances they do in specific cities or areas but I don't know a whole lot of those.”

Zuko had to refrain from snorting. Imagine that, Aang not knowing something. The way he went on sometimes, one would think he'd seen everything there was to see.

Aang paused for a second to think before lighting up again. “Oh! I know which one we can start with. It's actually a nobleman's dance, the rich people do it at parties and stuff, and it's really simple, give me your hand.” He stuck his own hand out expectantly.

Zuko hesitated just to nonverbally make the point that he thought this was stupid, but placed his hand inside Aang's nonetheless. He was then immediately thrown off his game as Aang pulled him forward so his hand could go on Aang's waist while Aang's went to his shoulder. Before Zuko could really catch up, Aang already had his other hand and was holding it out to their sides.

“This is the basic stance. Sometimes you break apart for other moves, but for the most part, you get to just stay like this and it's all in the foot work.” 

Aang grinned up at Zuko like that was supposed to reassure him, but Zuko was still trying to process the current situation.

“There's two parts to this, the lead and the follow. You should start by learning to lead though, that's what you're doing.” He nodded his head toward the side where he had his hand on Zuko's shoulder and Zuko's hand on his waist like that was supposed to mean anything to Zuko. “Now, just follow my steps. It's a basic three moves, okay?”

Aang looked up at him expectantly, and Zuko figured it sounded simple enough. Then something else occurred to him. “Wait, if I'm ‘leading’ why are you,” he hesitated as he tried to figure out how to word it, “leading?” was the word he uselessly landed on.

Thankfully Aang understood what he meant and let out a light easy laugh that coaxed some of the gathering tension from Zuko's shoulders. “It's just the name for things. Dancing isn't something you think about, you just do it. It doesn't matter what words you use, just follow me.”

“Whatever you say.” Zuko muttered.

Aang nodded before slowly taking a step back. It, a bit embarrassingly, took Zuko a second to figure out how he was supposed to follow Aang, but when he stepped forward to match Aang's movement, the proud grin he got as a reward seemed so much more poignant that close up.

Aang moved his other leg back in a bit of a sweep and Zuko, expecting it this time, followed along easily enough, ended by them bringing their feet back together. “Great!” Aang praised. “Now it's the same thing but backward, so now you step back.”

As he obeyed and repeated the moves backward, he found it was strangely gratifying as Aang moved with him step for step.

“Now we just do that box again.” With that, Aang once again stepped back.

Zuko followed after him as they moved smoothly through the cycle. It felt almost as easy as breathing, moving and matching Aang step for step and despite how simple the repetitive moves were, he was captivated. The flow of it, the simple trust that each step would be matched, how close they could be together and yet never run into each other. 

He found himself staring at Aang as Aang watched their hands for some reason Zuko was sure he'd never really understand. The simple focus in Aang, the ease with which he did everything, as though there really was nothing to think about, just movements shared, it was all fascinating to Zuko.

So much so that it took Zuko a moment to realize he was probably staring too hard when Aang turned back to him and gave him a weird look. Then it was Zuko's turn to look at their hands, but even that caught his eye in such an unexpected way. Getting to see the blue arrow cradled in his own hand as they glided over the floor, never wavering, like it was meant to rest there, caused a confusing flux of emotion he couldn't quite name.

Not that he'd ever been particularly good at that to begin with, but he felt even more lost than usual, like there was something he was missing.

“Zuko?”

Zuko's focus snapped back to Aang who was looking at him with an amused confusion. “You look like you're thinking, and I'm pretty sure I just said no thinking.” He teased and thankfully didn't ask about the thinking. Zuko had no idea how he'd answer.

So instead he latched onto the familiar easiness of teasing. “Sorry, not all of us can magically turn off our brains whenever we want.”

Aang's wide amused grin was almost difficult to witness when he was standing that close. “It's really not that hard. Maybe I should teach you how to meditate next.”

Zuko scowled. “I know how to meditate.”

“But you're really bad at it.” Aang pointed out without mercy. “Besides, maybe if I'm there it'll be easier to not overthink things.”

Zuko, for some strange reason, highly doubted that.

[xiao-zhen]

Words Better Left Unread, or Is It? ~ Part III ☆

Part I Part II Part IV

Picture: Macaque's Dojo

“Shift a bit more to the right, Mk. To maintain your balance on your tail, you really need to tune into the sensation,” came the encouraging voice.

“It’s my tail, and I can definitely feel it! But no matter what I do, I keep tipping over!” Mk protested, frustration evident in his voice. He lost his balance again and landed unceremoniously on the ground with a soft, defeated “oof.” Wukong chuckled, but Mk could tell something was bothering him despite Wukong’s attempts to hide it. Mk paused and looked at Wukong, who was balancing on his tail. He always found it interesting that his tail was a little longer than Wukong’s but not as long as Macaque’s. When Wukong stood up, his tail didn’t quite reach the ground.

In contrast, Macaque’s tail appeared softer, and when it was raised, some of it even touched the ground. Mk realized that discussing Macaque might be a bit premature, as it would likely bother Wukong. However, knowing Mk’s curiosity, he couldn’t help but ask in a way that wasn’t very subtle; he ended up saying it out loud.

“So, Monkey King, why is Macaque's tail longer and fluffier than yours? And how is it that his tail is longer than ours, even though all three of us are monkey men?” Wukong didn't expect Mk to bring up Macaque, especially given the timing. Wukong's expression revealed that something was off, which Mk surprisingly noticed. Nevertheless, Wukong answered the question. 

"Some monkeys have different characteristics. I have less fur than Macaque. On my chest, there is a pink patch without any fur, while the macaque has a smaller, red patch that looks somewhat spiky but is soft, has a different shape, and is covered in fur. The same applies to our tails; his is long, mine is shorter, and yours is in-between compared to ours. But don't worry, you'll get a better sense of your monkey form at some point!"

Mk suddenly realized that Macaque was supposed to be at training today, just as he had promised. But where was he? Concerned, Mk turned to Wukong and asked, “Hey, did you see Macaque? He was supposed to be here for training today.” Wukong furrowed his brow, unsure of how to explain Macaque’s absence. He thought, Oh no, I really don’t want to have to tell Mk this. What could he even say? “Macaque writes letters to me that he never actually sends, using them to help process his emotions. Recently, Savage decided to give one of these letters to me. I couldn’t help but read it, and now Macaque is probably panicking and avoiding training to escape the situation.” Yeah, Wukong is definitely not on board with telling Mk.

Mk couldn't help but notice Wukong's reaction and asked, "What happened? Don’t tell me you two got into an argument, and he didn’t show up just to spite you?" Wukong froze; that wasn’t exactly what happened. It was partly true but also partly not. However, what Mk said next made Wukong freeze again—this was a terrible idea!

Mk crossed his arms, and frustration was evident in his voice. “Wukong, stop acting like a child! This isn’t just about you anymore,” he reprimanded, shaking his head. “You think I haven’t noticed how you’re handling this? If we don’t confront him together, we’re only making things worse!” He took a step closer, determined to get through to Wukong. “Macaque helped us defeat Lady Bone Demon and retrieve the scroll; he’s on our side! You need to trust that we can face this, but if you keep backing away, you only isolate yourself. We’re going, and that’s final!” His tone softened just a bit as he continued, “I know you’re scared, but you’re stronger than you think. We can do this together.” After that, Wukong looked like a dejected child, his shoulders slumping and his gaze cast downwards. The weight of doubt and fear clung to him, making it hard to find the resolve he once had. He seemed lost in thought, reflecting on the dangers ahead and the uncertainty of their mission. Clearly, the burden of their struggles weighed heavily on his heart, and the flicker of hope he had was now dimmed. 

Mk explained that he would take Wukong to see where Macaque lived, suggesting it might help clear the air. “I’ll wait outside while you two talk,” he said, trying to reassure Wukong. “Sometimes, facing someone in their own space can change everything.” He glanced at Wukong, gauging his reaction. “Just remember, this is about understanding and finding a way forward.” With a nod, Wukong seemed to soften a bit, the tension in his expression easing. They set off, hoping this meeting would be the first step toward healing the rifts between them.  He paced back and forth, gripping his hair in frustration. Mk couldn't help but say that he felt like the wise Subodhi. 

With Mk, they flew onto Wukong’s cloud in his bird transformation, guiding the way to Macaque’s dojo. When they landed, Wukong noticed the area where Macaque lived. “Is this where he lives? In this neighborhood? It’s a pretty dangerous area,” he remarked. Mk pointed out, “Yeah, but he’s the Six-Eared Macaque; he should be fine.” Wukong noted how Mk spoke about Macaque; it was clear the kid viewed him positively, seeing him as a warrior—the warrior he once was. Wukong then realized, “A dojo? His place is a dojo?” He couldn’t help but snicker, but his laughter quickly turned to nervousness as Mk approached the door to knock. 

They heard Macaque's voice drift through the air, husky and heavy with fatigue. "Not interested," he said. His tone had an unmistakable weariness, a grogginess that suggested he had endured a restless night. Clearly, he hadn't slept; the roughness of his voice indicated he had spent hours tossing and turning, possibly preoccupied with worry or contemplation. Wukong couldn't help but wonder if the arrival of that letter had affected Macaque to such a degree that it robbed him of his rest. This thought weighed heavily on him as he considered the depth of Macaque's unease. Mk also noticed it and looked at Wukong with concern, clearly showing that he cared for Macaque. Mk then spoke up, saying it was him and Wukong, just as they heard a loud noise of weapons clattering to the ground from somewhere high above in his place, followed by a muttered, “Crap.”

“Don’t you have training to get to? I didn’t feel up for it today, Kid. Maybe next week.”Mk knew he was avoiding Wukong, so he scolded Macaque to get him to open the door. “Come on, Macaque! I know you’re in there! You can’t just hide away like this,” he shouted, his voice a mix of frustration and urgency. “We need to talk, and you can’t keep shutting everyone out! I know you’re tired, but at least let me in to sort this out.” Despite his stern words, Mk couldn't shake the feeling of sympathy for Macaque, who looked weary and worn from a sleepless night. The silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the unsettling clinks of metal weapons being picked up and shifted around. Macaque remained detached, seemingly lost in his thoughts, choosing to ignore the attempt at conversation. Sensing the growing tension, Mk took a deep breath and prepared to speak again, hoping to reach the man behind the formidable façade. 

Mk inhaled deeply, the cool air filling his lungs as he raised his hand to the door, knocking firmly once more. The sound resonated softly through the stillness of the hallway, a solitary echo amidst the quiet. After what felt like an eternity of tense silence, the door creaked open slowly, revealing Macaque standing in the frame. His expression was palpable annoyance; his brows furrowed, and his eyes narrowed as he glared at Mk. The irritation was evident on his face, as if the mere thought of facing Wukong’s familiar, with all its infuriating traits, had worn thin his patience.

“I’m not talking to him.”

He was, of course, referring to Wukong. Mk groaned and then began to plead, “Come on! Just talk to him! Think about how you worked together for the Lady Bone Demon and the ink scrolls. I know you both care more than you want to admit, and you miss each other—you miss the friendship! Just talk it out for once!” Wukong shifted uncomfortably, glancing around with anxious eyes as he stood in the shadow of Mk, his heart racing. The air was thick with tension, and he felt the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him, starkly contrasting with Mk's confident stance. As Mk continued, Macaque had enough. 

“Well, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, I haven’t slept, so I’m timing it. Come in.” Mk stayed outside and walked to the side, revealing the nervous wreck of the Monkey King. The door closed from behind Wukong when he nervously walked in. Wukong hated how it felt as if he had been “caught” reading the letter at this very moment. 

“I know you read that letter. Your impulsiveness couldn’t help it. Now get what you want to say out and leave.”

What Wukong said next surprised them both.

[bey0nd-1he-stars]

Not right now - Five Hargreeves

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x reader

Word count: 1658

Warnings: crying

Summary: After Five returns back to his family after living in the apocalypse you ask him how he’s doing.

Five stood in front of you, putting the slices of bread for his sandwich on the table before blinking to get some marshmallows from a cupboard. Vanya, Allison stood on the left side of the wooden table, Diego and Luther on the other side while Klaus had opted for placing himself on top of said table. You were sitting on a chair beside Vanya, your gaze set on Five. His suit was way too big and it wasn't the usual academy uniform, but that was the only signs visible from his disappearance.

"Where did you go?" Diego asked, however he sounded pretty uninterested in the answer. But the question had to be asked, you all knew it. Five, who was getting some marshmallows, didn't miss a beat before he answered.

"The future," his spacial jump back to the table caused a pause in his answer, "it's shit, by the way."

"Called it!"

You rolled your eyes at Klaus but kept your gaze at Five. It was odd seeing him again, and it was even more odd that he hadn't changed a bit since last time. He was still in the same, young body, the same haircut, the same movements as he'd had then. He looked just the same. Just the same as the portrait above the mantel place. But he had another look in his eyes now. Before he'd disappeared, it'd been determination and a will to prove himself. Now it was something else. It was like a gray layer had placed itself upon his green eyes. Like someone who'd been through way more than they should.

Five gave a sight as he continued making his peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich, "I should have listened to the old man." He opened the refrigerator to retrieve some peanut butter, "you know, jumping through space is one thing," he threw the refrigerator door shut but it stayed open just a glimpse; he didn't acknowledge it though, "jumping through time is a toss of the dice." He paused and looked up at his siblings, his gaze sliding over all of you before landing on Klaus' attire for the occasion, "nice dress."

Klaus lit up, "oh, well, danke!"

Vanya cut him off at the last second and returned the attention to Five, "Wait, how did you get back?"

"In the end I had to project my conciseness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time."

Diego had his gaze locked on the floor, trying to process whatever the hell Five just had laid out on the table for them. He frowned slightly and shook his head, "that makes no sense."

"Well, it would if you were smarter," Five deadpanned and completely ignored Diego when he quickly stood up, taking offense in Five's answer. Luther quickly held out an arm to stop Diego from doing anything more drastic.

"How long were you there?" Luther still looked as confused as he'd done when they all first entered the kitchen. He'd just been standing there listening to what Five had been saying, trying to get the puzzle pieces to fit together.

"Forty five years. Give or take." Five's answer got both Diego and Luther to sit down, completely taken back by the answer. It clearly wasn't what they'd expected. Neither of you had expected it. And Five spoke so easily about it that it almost irritated you that he didn't take it more seriously. Instead he took it with a peanut butter - marshmallow sandwich and a shrug of his shoulders.

"So what are you saying? That you're fifty eight?" Luther's curiosity and his need to understand everything had started to kick in and you could see that it started to get on his nerves. He explained with his teeth bitten together that "my consciousness is 58. Apparently my body is now thirteen again."

"Wait, how does that even work?" Vanya questioned with a shake off her head. You'd given up on trying to understand how it all fit together. None of you were as smart as Five. You'd never been, and you'll never be. All of you had come to term with that. At least you had. Five had turned away from you when he answered, "Delores kept saying the equations were off," he took a bite out of his sandwich, "bet she's laughing now."

"Delores?" Vanya wondered out loud, but Five ignored her. Instead he looked down at the newspaper where Reginald Hargreaves were on the cover. Or at least the news about his funeral.

"Guess I missed the funeral."

"How'd you know about that?" Luther asked, eyebrows furrowed and a questioning look in his eyes.

"What part of the future do you no understand?" Five deadpanned and looked up at him. You shook your head slightly at the banter, it was just like old days. It was like everything was back to how it was seventeen years ago.

"Heart failure, huh?"

"Yeah- no," Luther quickly changed his mind.

Five clicked his tongue and voiced what you'd been thinking about just seconds before," nice to see nothing's changed." He dropped the newspaper on the table again and started walking away. When he almost made it to the exit, Allison spoke up. She'd been quiet the whole time but reality finally struck her.

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" she turned towards him, disappointed when he didn't slow down his determined steps.

"What else is there to say? The circle of life." His steps echoed until they faded away completely. The kitchen got quiet as everyone tried to grasp what had just happened. Allison was the first one to speak up again.

"Well that was.. interesting." Vanya and you nodded in agreement, meeting each other's gazes and silently asking each other what was happening with the world right now.

"I'll go talk to him," Luther decided and stood up to go search for Five. Your gaze snapped to him and you stepped out in front of him when he started making his way to the stairs.

"I'll do it, just, lay low for now," you said quietly. All of you knew that out of everyone you'd been the one with the best connection to Five through the years you'd spent together. Luther opened his mouth to argue with you but you just quietly shook your head at him, silently begging him to stay out of this for once. He raised his hands in surrender and sat back down at the table with the rest of the siblings. You gave him a nod and walked out of the kitchen and climbed the stairs to go search for Five.

You found him in his old childhood room. He had changed out of the oversized suit and was back in his old academy attire. The clothes fit him perfectly and it looked like he wasn't a day older than 13. On the bedside table was a prosthetic eyeball, but you decided it would be best not to question it. Five sat on the edge of the bed, arms resting on his knees and his face in his hands. Your light knocking on the half-open door made him look up. A look of distress covered his face and he pulled a hand through his hair.

"What do you want?" he asked quietly. His green eyes met yours and it was as if you could see the memories he'd made while being gone. It all played over and over again in head and looking into his eyes was like watching a movie roll.

"Are you alright?" your voice was soft and the care that it held made Five wince in his seat. He hadn't heard that in a long time it did something to his heart. He was home again, with his family. With you. He pulled at the tie, trying to make it easier to breathe. He shook his head at you.

"Please, leave me alone, I can’t… I can’t take it right now."

Your eyebrows furrowed.

"Take what?" you wondered out loud.

Five looked away from your gaze and loosened the tie. He frustratedly pulled a hand through his dark hair, getting it out of his face, only for it to fall back again. Tears had gathered in his eyes and he picked at his cuticles.

"Being asked if I'm okay."

You sighted softly and walked over the threshold, shutting the door close behind you. Five slid down from his bed and positioned himself on the floor, back resting against the bed and knees pulled up against his chest. Tears fell from his eyes now and he furiously wiped the away, looking away from you to avoid meeting your gaze. You sat down on the floor with him, resting a hand on his arm, your thumb softly stroking across the material of his jacket.

"Hey, Five," you said softly, trying to get him to look at you. Pulling a gentle hand though his hair and softly titling his chin up so you could see his eyes, he finally looked up at you. The care in your eyes and the gentleness you showed him had more tears falling down his cheeks but this time he didn't bother to wipe them away. He let them fall, the cold tears making his cheeks wet and then fell down on his shirt before getting soaked up in the material.

"It's okay, you'll be okay," you mumbled and wrapped your arms around him, gathering him in your embrace. He fell into your arms, letting himself relax in just a few moments before the world was due to end. He gasped for breath, his sharp inhales and shaky exhales were all that could be heard in the room. He clung onto you, holding you close to him as if you would disappear if he didn't hold you close enough.

"You're not alone anymore." That's when he lost it. Those four little words whispered to him against his dark hair was all that it took for him to just let all the walls fall in. He let himself get lost in your comfort and your closeness. The hard floor under you both was making your legs ache and the position was awkward, but Five didn't care. You were here, right beside him again and he would let himself enjoy that as much as he could. You pressed him into you, falling into him just as much as he fell into you. And it was enough for now. Even with his gasping breaths and desperate hold on you, it was enough for now, for this little moment. For these few minutes.

[k4zushi]

[ 03 ] SINCE WHEN WAS THIS HERE..

status : unedited, written 01/03/24 ☆ word count : 0.7k

CYNO’S POV ⟡ CAMPUS THEATER

in all honesty, cyno wasn’t planning on showing up. things like dancing and acting really weren’t his forte and yet, by some miracle, he found himself standing outside the main entrance to the theater.

to say he was confused was an understatement, heck he wasn't even aware of the school’s theater until now! he was too preoccupied with his studies so he had never explored the school campus. to him, he only really needed to know the bare minimum of where his lectures were being held.

cyno took in a deep breath before opening the door to a dimly lit theater.

it took his eyes a bit to adjust but when he did he saw a handful of students walking up and down the isles along with a familiar brunette woman stationed at the front of the stage giving out orders to students.

everyone already seemed to know where to go and that added to his confusion. it also made him even feel out of place because he didn’t want to be the only one awkwardly standing around.

he knew ms lisa as she was one of his teachers back in highschool and thought about asking her for help until he remembered how busy she looked talking to other students. he also recognized some of the people in the theater but he didn’t really deem himself close enough to them for him to randomly spark a conversation and so he was ultimately left to ponder his own thoughts.

the poor boy questioned his entire existence at that moment and even debated walking right back out of the theater until someone approached him, effectively breaking him out of his pessimistic thought process.

"hey!! potential actor? straight ahead, backstage to your left” the person said in a friendly tone that made cyno do a double take.

he blinked twice before focusing on the person standing in front of him.

they had a smile painted across their face, their eyes focused on his. despite the lights in a theater casting dark shadows across the both of your faces, cyno could still tell that the person in front of him was extremely attractive. their elated personality made him nervous but luckily he knew a fair share of eccentric people in his life.

"ah.. thank you," he said, mustering up the best smile he could.

"mhm,, goodluck with auditions!! " they replied, flashing a quick smile of their own before turning on their heel and walking off.

‘i was going to ask for their name but i guess not..’

he frowned a bit but decided it wasn't that big of a deal and he could always get it later.

cyno made his way down the isle and up the stairs to the back of the stage where he saw even more students huddled.

scanning the small crowd he picked out familiar blonde hair that was disappearing and reappearing among the sea of heads. the grey haired boy weaved his way through the other students until his eyes landed on a pair of faces he knew all too well.

"albedo. alhaitham." he nodded as a greeting.

the two scholars turned around to see cyno walking up to them. albedo’s eyes slightly widened in recognition before he responded with a greeting of his own.

"ah cyno. hello to you too."

"i wasn't really expecting to see you here” alhaitham spoke, eyeing the shorter guy next to him.

"to be honest, i wasn’t planning on coming here either” cyno huffed out a small sigh, crossing his arms across his chest.

"impulsive last minute decision?" albedo questioned before chuckling softly.

"hm," cyno paused. "i guess you could say that"

“while you’re here, could you humor me and help me go over some lines?” the blonde reached for a small packet of paper, before handing it to him.

“sure, which ones?” he took the packet from albedo flipping through the stapled pages.

albedo pointed at part that had highlighted lines. “just these, read the ones in blue. also alhaitham has to leave soon since tech aren’t needed until later rehersals”

“speaking of which, i’ll be taking my leave. i have a couple assignments to complete” said alhaitham as he closed the book he had been reading. he said a curt goodbye and then walked off leaving the two to recite lines.

prev ︴masterlist ︴next

AUTHOR NOTES : moving my a/n down here bc i can type more :3!! anyways cyno is vv silly so here are my personal hcs for this fic <33

☆ he isn’t really a fan of emojis so instead he uses kaomojis, emoticons, ( both were collei’s influence, everyone say thank you collei >u< ), and cat reaction images

☆ LOVEEESSSS CATS!! this is just me projecting bc cats are cute and he’s cute so why not

☆ mf is not neurotypical LOLLL this is also me projecting but i think it fits him🙏 i’m not sure if i’m going to ever explicitly say that he’s autistic in this fic but just know that he is ( so is y/n and alhaitham bc neurospicy ppl attract other neurospicy ppl, that’s a fact )

☆ scara has one sided beef w/ cyno. their entire relationship is scara dunking on him while cyno has zero clue that they’re on “bad terms” bc scara acts like this w/ pretty much everyone

— TAGLIST : @ioveaether @otomegame-oneshots @ashyiiy @mafuyuslover @yuminako @ell1e2010

[sensivs]

Could you please do a mitsuri x obanai x male reader when mitsuri and obanai died at the infinity castle?

OFC SHMOOKIMS ∩^ω^∩ !!!

(MAJOR INFINITY CASTLE ARC SPOILERS ALONG WITH A BUNCH OF MENTIONS OF BLOOD/MAJOR INJURIES!!!)

(also I didn’t really know if u meant in the infinity castle where yushiro did that little stunt with nakime or when they actually died so I went with them actually dying, if this wasn’t was u requested I’ll be happy to make a separate post!!)

(Females/fem-aligned r free to interact/read just pls don’t act weird and comment fetishizing stuff in my comments)

Everything hurt.. everything… the feeling was absolutely unbearable.. but.. you had to push through.. for mitsuri.. for obanai.. for everyone..

You dragged yourself into an alley, one of muzans blows had hit you straight on the calf and now the entirety of it was gone. You bled everywhere, the burning sensation making you feel like you were on fire.

You ripped a part of your haori off, tying it above your knee to stop the bleeding. You then hoisted yourself up with the brick wall behind you, making the whole getting up process much easier.

You looked across from you only to see mitsuri and obanai, the two sharing a conversation which led Mitsuri to tears. You hated seeing your dear wife cry.. she was sensitive but to an extent..

You hopped on your working leg, making you look a bit goofy but it was whatever. “Y/N!!” Mitsuri yelled out happily, she was happy to see you but you saw in her eyes that she was in despair.

“Y/n.. you must take care of mitsuri while I battle muzan.. okay..? You two are in far worse conditions than me” you looked at obanai as if he had two heads. “You.. you can’t seriously be going out there to fight..! You must stay with us obanai!!” You now saw why mitsuri was crying as you felt warm tears drip down your cheeks.

“I.. I must make sure that muzan’s rain of terror comes to an end.. if I’m able to survive then I surely will come back to the both of you.. but for now you two must stay here with the kakushi” just as obanai was about to leave, you grabbed onto the sleeve of his haori.

“You can’t leave us obanai!! Please.. please don’t leave us..” you saw tears well up in obanai’s eyes, but he quickly blinked them away, gently ripping his sleeve away from you. “I’ll be back.. I promise you that” obanai took the hand he put your wedding ring on, giving it a loving kiss before he ran away.

You and mitsuri tried calling him back to no avail. He was going to defeat muzan and that was that. You held onto mitsuri as she cried into the crook of your neck.

You felt numb.. the pain you were experiencing was now (slightly) gone. You held mitsuri close to your chest, her ear connecting to your chest. Listening to the therapeutic beats of your heart.

You tilted your head to the right, watching as the night slowly turned into the morning. You no longer could hear the constant noise of muzan crazing into the ground/building as your brain was slowly shutting down, as if it was going to take a nap.

You then saw obanai make his way to you and mitsuri, your eyes wasted no time to start welling up with tears. “Obanai.. I’m so happy your back..” you quietly said, a smile grew on your face but was quickly shot down as you saw the state of obanai’s face.

“Obanai! Y-Your eyes!!” You wanted to move but you didn’t want to disturb mitsuri. “I’m fine my love.. are you and mitsuri okay..?” “Yes we are but.. her..” you paused for a bit, choking back tears “her heartbeat is slowing down..”

Obanai hummed, he felt around until his hand landed on yours. He then felt it up and down, wanting to cherish your touch. Kaburamaru slid onto obanai’s arm and began making his way to yours, his scales felt weird to say the least but you never made a big deal of them since you knew how much obanai’s snake meant to him.

Kaburamaru then perched himself around your neck, as if he was trying to give you a big hug (he wasn’t choking you or anything but he was applying a bit of pressure on your neck). You sniffled softly as you then grabbed obanai by the arm and pulled him into a tight hug with mitsuri in the middle.

“Ah… obanai.. your back..” mitsuris eyes fluttered open as she took in his once beautiful face. “Oh my.. obanai..” you saw tears prickling mitsuris eyes, she wanted to hold obanai’s face so bad.. but she couldn’t.

Obanai then took off his haori, draping it over mitsuris poor, cold body. “What a gentleman..” you chuckled as you then transferred mitsuri into iguro’s arms. Letting him be able to hold his love.

He couldn’t see her, but she knew that she was being looked down in love by the snake hashira. “Ah.. I don’t feel any pain so.. I guess I’m dying..” you saw the sparkle in mitsuris eyes slowly dull down.

“I’ll probably die soon too. You’re not alone” obanai held mitsuri closer, her head now pressing against his chest. “No.. don’t die yet.. I’m sorry I wasn’t much use in the fight..” mitsuri then began to cry once more.

“Don’t say that mitsuri..! You definitely did damage to that rotten man, your actions will go down in history..” y/n wrapped his arms around obanai’s and mitsuri. Embracing them in a tight, long hug.

“Please.. don’t leave me.. you two..” you sobbed silently with your head pressed against the middle of iguro’s chest. “Please y/n.. live your life as long as you can.. we may be gone, but remember that we’re always with you..” obanai started. “Yes n/n.. you must live and love without us.. but you’ll be fine.. when we are reborn.. we can all be together.. hand in hand.. and love once more..” Mitsuri said through choked sobbed.

You all held onto each other tightly, until the kakushi came around the corner and finally assisted you.

But when you tried removing yourself from obanai’s grip, you found yourself stuck. Turns out, his grip on you was so tight you ended up with a deep, dark bruise on your waist.

extra ending cs I’m feeling nice (*^ω^*)

You worked with your wife in the kitchen of your brand new diner you, your wife and husband had opened. You three could finally live in completion..

“Ah! It’s.. uh.. OH!! YOSHITERU!!” You called out to the boy across the street. His attention shifted to you, the glint already in his eyes glowing bigger.

“Wanna come over here and have a quick snack before school!?” You called out once more, just as he was about to answer, his face contorted into one of fear. Before he quickly shook his head and quickened his pace towards his school.

“Hm? Why’d he turn down the offer? He always gets a quick bite before going to school!” Mitsuri sounded quite sad, “do you know why he left iguro?” You saw your husband jump a bit before turning around and shaking his head, a bead of sweat slowly running down his temple.

..

SOB SOB I LOVE OBAMITSU 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

[engineer-gunzelpunk]

Traintober 2024: The Arrival

Here is my second Traintober Day 1 story, featuring one of my Victorian Railways OCs that I have only introduced once, VR R-class Hudson R707 "City of Melbourne" AKA Cerberus. Other than Harry, the Rs are one of my favorite kinds of Oz locos, they just look so damn fine when they are running.

The first R-class arrives...

Off The Boat

10 May, 1951

Nelson Pier, Williamstown; Melbourne, Australia

The massive R-class locomotive lashed to the ship MV Rhexenor was placed as gently on the rails as they could. He was in some pain as his roller bearings had rusted up.

It had been a very long journey from Glasgow, from the Queens Park North British Locomotive works where he and 70 others had been built.

They had been told over there they would be the newest thing in this new land, and promises were given that they would be able to display their abilities.

His two brothers were in the process of being unlashed.

A sleepy old C-classer backed down on him, but paused as their crew dismounted to speak to the new loco.

“Welcome to Australia, boy! How was your trip?”

He blinked at these tiny humans around him.

“Pretty fookin’ awful, truth be telt. Mae bearings are rusted oot… the sea water got in..."

The driver sucked in his teeth.

“Aw shit yes, we can see that. We’ll have to get you to the Workshop quick smart.”

A little man with a clipboard furiously jotted down some notes and animatedly spoke to another man.

“We’ll take you there as soon as possible, boy. You’ll get fixed up and running in no time.

“Ye better! Ah haven’t had a run since leaving Polmadie…”

“You’ll be assigned a shed and then your new duties… Officially, you are known by your class number... but for the sake of ease of working and bonding with your new crew, you’ll be called by a chosen name…

“Ye sure? Ah dinnae think ye can pronounce mae name…”

“Try me…”

“Choin Dubh”

The driver scratched his head.

“Its a bit hard to understand…”

The big engine frowned slightly as if to say, "I told you so".

“Muckle Black Tyke”

“Excuse me…”

The locomotive sighed… these daft Aussies weren’t going to address him properly, so he reached for the closet thing they could possibly understand… and a little tug chugging by gave him the name..

“Cerberus”

“What?”

“Mah name is Cerberus, sir… Since ye dinnae understand ‘Muckle Black Tyke’, Ah give ye a name you can understand…”

“You are a cheeky one, aren’t you…’

'Also… thats a hellhound…”

“Aye?”

“You can’t have a diabolically named locomotive…”

“Wha' not?”

“Its just not the thing…”

“Well, its a thing noo…”, he sniffed petulantly.

“Listen… Cerberus.. lets just call you that privately for now… we’ll call you something else in front of the punters…"

The self christened Cerberus sighed. He was achy and sore and tired and talking to these idiot Aussie two legs was trying his patience.

“Ah right… the fearties dinnae like to be scared… but Ah breathe fire and smoke like yon Deevil…”

“But we don’t want to give those connotations!”, the daft wee man with the clipboard sputtered.

Cerberus just sneered.

“In public, in front of the punters, we will call you ‘Angel’, OK?”

Cerberus did not drop his sneer, “Yon Deevil was an angel once…”

“You’re a cheeky cunt, you know that?” said the driver.

“Better than being a right cunt…”, said Cerberus and he grinned.

The driver, fireman and the man with the clipboard just looked at eachother and collectively sighed.

“Uh, OK, lets just agree to disagree and for the sake of harmony of working, we’ll call you what you want in private…Cerberus…”

The big engine's tone shifted from defiant to afffable. He seemed satisfied.

“Thats perfectly equitable… where am Ah goin'?”

“North Melbourne Loco… but first you are going to Newport to get fixed…”

“Ach, thats just splendid that is…”, he said, his voice dripping with the slightest hint of sarcasm, which the driver took a little defensively.

“Newport Workshops has some great facilities… you’ll be fixed in no time…”

“Wha do Ah get tha feeling its going to be longer than no-time?”