#snatch crackle

[msketeer]

luke pasqualino as albert hill in snatch.

[i-dont-want-your-hysteria]

the boys in Peru this week 🥹

update: *Chile

[oceantornadoo]

simon riley AND reader who are absolutely terrible at dating.

he ghosts you after the first date. you thought it was a once-in-a-lifetime connection with unmatched banter and crackling physical tension. guess not. you lose a couple of nights of sleep over it and chalk it up to men ain’t shit and move on.

simon who can’t stop thinking about your date as he gets shipped out the next day. runs through an op quicker than ever, barking at soap more than usual, toeing the line of unprofessional. every day that passes is a day he can’t touch his personal phone, leaving your text thread abandoned.

you get a text a month later. “you around?” have to check the thread to remember who it was, finding yourself absolutely shocked, struggling to remember the hulking mass of a man who made you giggle so much over that one dinner.

simon shows up to your picnic date with apology flowers and a new leather jacket. explains why he was gone without prompting, a gruff monologue as you find yourself getting distracted by the new scratch on his eyebrow and the scruff on his face. unconsciously, your fingers brush it barely, wanting to make sure it was real.

simon stops mid-sentence, gripping your wrist in an iron hold. the shock of what you did hits you, profuse apologies spilling from your lips as you try to explain and tug your wrist back. he won’t let you though, keeping it in place, your soft skin against his worn calluses.

“‘s okay, love. jus’ ask next time. still jumpy from work.” you finally snatch your hand back, embarrassment warming your body as you nod your head in acknowledgment. he thinks about letting the awkwardness settle and take roots, adding a string of failed dates to his black book.

instead you make the choice for him, attention catching on a nearby curious toddler. you give the little bugger a wave with your biggest smile, sticking out your tongue to make the kid laugh. simon decides then and there that he’s going to keep you.

[crushmeeren]

Sex chocolate with Hawks, Dabi, Aizawa and maybe Toshinori???

⋆ ft. izuku ⋆

⋆ this is written as if the guys didn’t know they’d eaten the chocolate and how they’d react to the treat. sorry I didn’t put Toshinori in this, I’m not quite sure how to write his personality yet. (ó﹏ò｡)

𝛏 master list link 𝛏

// @emmab3mma hope you enjoy! ₊˚ʚ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎₊˚✧ ﾟ.

Izuku’s lips would tug into a sheepish smile, no doubt thankful for the sweet treat pick me up. His eyes would brighten, a satisfied hum dancing in the air.

Izuku would be unbearably jittery out on patrol that evening, hopping from the sidewalk on one side the street to the other, green light crackling in his wake. He’d do it mindlessly, thoughts wandering to you and what you currently could be doing.

Suddenly, he’d be flailing mid air when he vividly imagines you on your knees, plush lips stretched so wide on his cock he knows it must hurt your mouth. Izuku would stumble when he hit the concrete, catching himself on the bench nearby.

Izuku’s expression would twist from calm to horrified, thoughts running a mile a minute when he steadies himself and realizes his cock is…hard. Throbbing. Straining against his hero suit. He’d make haste running to the nearest building with a public restroom.

Izuku would shut the door to the restroom and lock it before anyone could even notice he entered. He’d be frantic, shoving his pants down mid thigh as he leaned against the wall and hissed through his teeth when the cool air hit his freely bobbing cock.

He’d have a million concerns in the back of his head but not be able to focus on a single one. Izuku would have a one track mind, wrapping a hand around himself and jerking until he came in less than 20 seconds to the image of you on your knees.

Izuku would be so embarrassed afterwards, cheeks bright pink as he adjusts his clothes and washes his hands.

Being as smart as he is, he’d have a suspicion this is related to the chocolate you gave him and he intends to find out once he’s home. Once he returned, he’d tease you until you’re on the edge of tears and blurting out the truth, fucking you until your mind whites out and you scream his name.

Lucky you.

Keigo would give you a flirty grin, winking playfully as he snatched the chocolate from you and swallowed it within two bites. You’d give him an unimpressed look but he’d just laugh like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

Keigo isn’t surprised when he got a boner while soaring through the skies on the way to his agency. He’d been thinking about you anyways and his dick getting hard wasn’t uncommon when he thought of you. It’d be fair to say that happened often, if he’s honest.

Keigo would take note of the violent flush crawling down his neck and snaking under the fuzzy collar of his flight jacket. He’d suck his bottom lip in between his teeth and adjust his cock in his pants so it’s sticking straight up instead of outward.

He’d be able to somewhat focus on the business meeting he didn’t want to attend in the first place, only being reprimanded a few times more than normal for zoning out.

Keigo’s pulse would thunder. He’d wear a neutral expression, letting his chin rest in his propped up hand as he sent a feather to find and turn on the air because why the fuck is it so hot in here?

He’d text you something filthy as discreetly as he could under the table, biting his knuckles when you sent back a picture of yourself with your tits on display. Keigo would come to the conclusion that maybe he was a bit more pathetically horny than normal and he needed to ditch this meeting yesterday.

Keigo would go straight home, ignoring anyone who had tried to speak with him on his way out. He’d find you on the couch with nothing on but an oversized shirt and waving what’s left of the chocolate bar at him with a smirk when he entered through the balcony.

He wouldn’t even be upset when you told him what you’d done. He’d just crowd close, looming over you with a wolfish grin that shot a thrill down your spine.

Keigo would succumb to the aphrodisiac completely. He’d bend you over the backrest of the couch at hip level and wrench your arms taut behind you, fingers circling your wrists to secure you in place.

Keigo would have no mercy, sliding his cock in your tight pussy before you’re turned on enough to take him smoothly. He’d send a feather down to play with your clit until you strain to escape, not stopping despite your pleas because “this is what you wanted, isn’t it baby? yeah, so stop yapping and take it.”

In the end all you can do is nod, because if you truly wanted him to stop you’d only have to say the safe word.

Shouta would raise an eyebrow with a bored expression on his features. He’d roll his eyes and eat the chocolate after you pushed your lower lip out and fluttered your lashes at him.

Shouta’s a sucker for you.

He’d be grading papers that afternoon, knuckles rubbing at his sleepy eyes in the office of your shared home. He’d take a break, pressing his palms to his eyes and resting his elbows on the desk.

A scenario would pop into his head, one where you sat on the edge of the desk while he’d relax in his chair and lazily eat you out. He can imagine the way your clit would feel against his tongue, how warm and soft your pussy would be on his lips.

Shouta would lean back in the chair, a hand absently dropping to his lap to palm his cock and he’d be startled at just how much he’d filled out already. His dick hot and sticking to his inner thigh. Shocked at the unavoidable thick warmth swirling in his belly when it’d usually take a bit more than a brief daydream to get this worked up.

He’d be certain that you had something to do with this and irritation would lance through him. He’d sit in the kitchen once he’s finished, arms crossed and cock stubbornly refusing to flag until you returned home.

Shouta would ask you about it as if he were asking a child if they had stolen a cookie from the cookie jar. Easily, you admit to it. No hesitation, no shame, just a smug air about you.

Then, Shouta would make his fantasy a reality. He’d eat your pussy until you were right on the edge of cumming and then he’d stop. He’d speak condescendingly, saying “poor baby, your pussy just wants to cum doesn’t she?” as he sits you roughly down on his cock.

He’d spank you a few times, teasing you a bit more but he’d make you cum so intensely your toes would cramp — and then he’d keep going until his own brain got fuzzy.

Touya would say fuck no at first. He doesn’t like chocolate. Until you mention there’s something special about the sweet and he assumes it’s an edible. You don’t bother to correct him because, technically, it is an edible, just not the kind filled with weed.

Touya would be leaning his back against the railing on your balcony, angled so he can peer into the open doors of your living room. He’d have a cigarette dangling from his lips, scrubbing at his cheek with one hand because yeah, his cheeks are typically roasting but they’re never this hot.

He’d shrug it off and nonchalantly light up the cigarette with his pointer finger. He’d startle as the tiny flame bursts into a fireball that he really didn’t mean to create when you stride past the doorway in soft shorts that show the crease of where your thigh joins your ass.

You’d freeze mid step and turn to stare at him incredulously, lips parted slightly when the aftershock of heated air damn near singes your skin.

Touya would be flustered. Cheeks painted rosy pink with embarrassment at the lack of control over his quirk. He’d scowl harshly, pinching his brows together as he dropped and stomped on his cigarette to put it out. He’d stalk towards you and snarl “why the hell are you wearing those fucking shorts?” as if his sudden overbearing lust is your fault specifically.

You’d roll your eyes and begin walking in the direction you’d intended in the first place but Touya would snatch your wrist tight enough the bones grind together and drag you to your bedroom. He’d ignore your obviously fake bewildered expression and shove you onto the mattress. He can’t focus on the fact that you seem to be going along with this a bit too easily.

His cock would be jumping and pushing painfully against the zipper of his jeans before he so much as kissed you. He wouldn’t get either of you truly naked, he’d just slide your soft shorts to the side and unzip his jeans. He’d shove your shirt to your collarbone so he could watch the way your tits are about to bounce.

Touya would yank your ankles up and over his shoulders until the backs of your thighs press into his chest and then fold you in half like you’re a fucking blanket. He’d tilt his hips until his tip catches on your pussy and then he’s shoving his cock all the way inside to steal the breath from your lungs.

Touya wouldn’t have the self control to stop for a long time that evening and you’d almost regret giving him the chocolate. Almost.

[writers-potion]

Let's Talk About Pacing Our Fight Scenes.

For Fast-Paced Parts:

Short words with single syllables. Immediately > at once/ endeavour > try/ indicate > point at/ investigate > check out.

Short sentences, the shorter the better.

Partial sentences to blaze through multiple senses and actions within a few lines.

Short paragraphs

Lots of verbs.

Few adjectives and adverbs.

Cut down on -ing form of verbs, as it can make words longer

Use simple past tense

Avoid conjunctions and link words.

Avoid internal thought - your characters are irrational, ruthless and in the flow of pure action.

For Slow-Paced Parts:

Use medium/long sentences

the paragraphs are longer: three lines minimum

Include longer words with more syllables

Use adjectives and maybe a couple of adverbs.

Insert the thoughts of the PoV character.

Words for Action Scenes

act, alter, attack, avert, back, block, bang, bash, battle, beat, beg, belt, bend, best, bite, blacken, bleed, blind, blister, blow, blunt, boil, bolt, boot, bore, bow, box, brace, brag, brash, brawl, break, breathe, brush, buck, bulgde, burn, burst, cackle, call, can, carry, cart, carve, catch, check, chop, chuck, clack, clank, clap, clash, claw, clear, cleave, click, cliff, cling, clip, close, club, cock, coil, cold, collar, come, con, connect, corner, cost, count, counter, cover, cower, crack, crackle, cram, crash, crawl, creep, crinkle, cross, crouch, rush, cry, cuff, cull, cup, curl, curse, curve, cusp, cut, dart, dash, deepen, dig, deep, dip, ditch, drive, drop, duck, dump, ede, effect, erect, escape, exert, expect, feint, fight, fire fist, fit, flag, flare, flash, flick, fling, flip, flock, force, gash, gasp, get, gore, grab, grasp, grip, grope, group, hack, harden, heat, help, hit, hop, hurl, hurry, impale, jab, jar, jerk, join, jolt, jump, keep, kick, kill, knee, knock, knot, knuckle, leak, leap, let, lever, lick, lift, lock, loop, lop, plunge, mask, nick, nip, open, oppose, pace, pack, pain, pair, pale, palm, pan, pant, parry, part, pass, paste, pat, peak, peck, pelt, pick, pierce, pile, ping, piss, pit, pivot, plot, pluck, plug, plunge, ply, point, pool, pop, pose, pot, pound, pour, powder, pray, preen, prepare, prey, prick, prickle, print, probe, pry, pull, pulp, pulse, pump, punch, pursue, push, quarry, quarter, quest, race, raise, rake, ram, rap, rasp, rear, retreat, rip, riposte, rivert, roar, rock, roll, rope, round, rouse, run, rush, sap, scale, scalp, scan, score,scream, seek, seep, shake, shape, sharpen, shock, shoot, shop, slap, slap, slash, slice, slick, slip, slit, smash, snap, snare, snatch, snipe, sock, space, spar, spark, speed, spike, spill, spin, spit, splash, spoil, spring, spur, spurt, spy, squirm, stand, steert, step, stick, strap, strike, stuff, suck, support, swat, sweat, sweep, swingm tack, tag, take, target, taste, team, tear, tent, test, thrash, throw, thrust, thud, tick, tide, tilt, time, tire, top, toss, tower, toy, trap, trick, trigger, trip, triumph, trouble, trump, try, tuck, tug, twril, twitch, weaken, wet, whip, whirl, whirr, whoop, whoosh, whop, work, zap, zip.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[queenendless]

💀🎃👻Spooky Greetings👻🎃💀

A/n: This literally came to mind when I saw something similar in the actual game event. First time posting twst content here. This may get a sequel. Gonna try to post variety spooky content here cause HAPPY OCTOBER YALL!

SPOILERS for the new Halloween game event going on, somewhat. Also, a bit of Skully x fem!reader and implied fem!reader x the twst bois shown/tagged down below. Short Harem drama, kinda. Not much. But I think it ain't half bad.

*DON'T STEAL, COPY, EDIT, REPOST AND TRANSLATE MY FANFIC WORK. REBLOG, LIKE, FOLLOW PLS N THNX.*

“Hello, my lovely~”

The moment this new strapping figure — “Skully J. Graves at your service~” — appeared holding you in his arms as you awoke, you were awestruck at the spooky strapping young man.

After introducing all of yourselves, watching him kiss the hand of your schoolmates was amusing; seeing their appalled expressions. Guessing they don't get that brand of greeting often, huh?

Him kissing Grim's cheek had his fur stand on end to your delight.

And yet?

The moment he took your hand — only to pull you in and kiss you smack dab on the lips?

You felt the fires of envy and hate turn ablaze as the various pairs of eyes glowed outrageously.

Many hands, gloved or not, snatched him off you.

And all hell broke loose.

“Get your grubby hands off my beloved, you cretin!” Riddle turned red even his paled up Gothic aesthetic; Trey holding the struggling boy back in his arms.

“He means MY herbivore, skeletal bastard.” Leona growled in Skully’s face as he grabbed his collar.

“On the contrary, MY angel isn't up for auction when it comes to kisses from mere worms.” Azul's irked smile gave off unpleasantness.

“Oho? That doesn't seem to be the case, surely.” Jade jested to his boss's ire.

“MY jewel’s already doing so, octo pimp. That goes for you too, street rat.” Jamil hissed them both back and forth.

“Have you no manners of consent, you mongrel? Besides, my darling Y/n has better taste than you all. Me, for example.” Vil flaunted in the others irked faces; Epel looked just about done at this point.

“Don't you dare take away my Otaku goddess, you noob!” Idia gripped dramatically to the others nuisance. 

“How dare you lay a finger on my beloved human.” Malleus spoke doom.

The air around them crackled with literal lightning as emerald flames had his hands full.

“My future Queen … prepare yourself … FOR HELL.”

“WAKA-SAMA!” Sebek switched to fanboy mode at his God's might.

“For once, we're on the same page.” Leona's smirk sent his way spoke volumes as he dropped Skully before the dragon prince.

“TSUNATARO, STAND DOWN! ALL OF YOU, PLEASE!” You got in the way to defend the new anime boy from the others' united wrath, especially Malleus's. “One kiss is not that big of a deal.”

You could hear a pin drop now as everyone, even Skully, viewed you as if you had two heads.

“Good grief. Ya sure you're not magical? Cause you're bewitching them into lovestruck fools. And you're not dating any of ‘em. God, you're an idiot.” Grim griped.

Leona, Jamil, and Sebek appeared as glowing eyed phantom monsters ready for the kill. “YOU'RE ONE TO TALK, FUR BALL!!!”

Yet Skully looked unperturbed, his charming toothed smile arised, as Grim got chased by three SSR dressed pissed off mages. “Oya oya … What a lively bunch, you all are. And all because I took a kiss from your sweet lips, lovely Y/n. But if you are single, then may I ask you out?”

“NO!!!” All the former overblot cases now turned bachelors for your token affections shouted in unison.

Trey, Jade and Epel and you hung your head in exasperation.

Ah, quite the Harem dilemma.

Halloween coated, no less.

[skeltnwrites]

Bad Cop - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You wake to a call from your boyfriend Eddie who asks you to bail him out of jail. 

Word Count: 2.2k

TW: interactions with police, mild injury, talk of fighting and bullying, sexual innuendos 

A/N: I might be a little late to the Eddie Munson party but I’m here now! :D

“This is a collect call from Edward Munson at Hawkins Police Station. Will you accept the charges?” 

You clear your throat but your voice still feels raw when you speak, “Yes.” 

“Please hold,” the operator says. 

A trilling sound as you wait, twirling the phone cord anxiously. You’d been tucked in bed a minute ago, dead to the world. The phone rang loud enough from the kitchen to startle you awake. You caught the time on the alarm clock on the nightstand as you kicked the blankets off, just after one in the morning. 

“Y/N?” His voice is soft under the crackle. 

“Edward.” It’s not angry per se but you never use his real name which is telling.

“Please don’t be mad.”

“Are you okay?” you sigh, tipping your head till your forehead meets the wallpaper. 

“I’m sorry— I’m fine. I just, can you bail me out please.” 

“What happened, Eds?” 

“Just a stupid fight. Nothing serious, I promise.” He pleads like you won’t believe him and doesn’t give you a chance to press for details, “There’s cash in a shoebox on the top shelf of the closet. On my side, all the way in the back.” 

You want to scold him but you're still kneading sleep from your face, irritated now that you know he’s okay. You bite your cheek, considering the possibility of an argument. Knowing that it shouldn’t take place through a phone. 

“You’re sure? It’s enough?” 

“Swear.” 

“Okay, on my way.”

He apologizes again before the line clicks. 

You shuffle through the band tees he’s grown out of and have since been neglected to the back of your shared closet. You make a mental note to remind him to drop some off at Goodwill. Under a stack of vinyls, you locate the box with a rolled wad of twenties held together by a rubber band. You snap the band, biting your lip. It’s enough to buy something expensive, really expensive. You jam your heel into a laced sneaker and do not bother to change out of your pajamas. The money is pushed deep into your pocket along with the house keys. You shake away arising questions as you start the van. 

Cold air smacks your bare arms as you push open the station door. You blink rapidly at the fluorescents. An officer hands you a clipboard, you sign two dotted lines, and fork over most of the cash. He retreats to a separate room without a word, presumably to retrieve your boyfriend, leaving you alone in the lobby. 

Your arms pillow your head on the counter until a familiar set of steps rounds the corner. His eyes, big and sorry, find yours instantly. But your attention quickly shifts to the marbled purple and blue highlighting the arch of his cheek. The stern speech about bar fights and bail payments you’d rehearsed on the way flees your throat. He brushes past the counter to hug you and you spot a split lip too. Your shoulders deflate as you meet him halfway. 

“Thank you,” Eddie mumbles into your crown. 

You give his waist a quick squeeze before pulling back. His hands chase the goosebumps from your skin as you scan his face. His curls are frizzy which is typical but more disheveled like he’s been running his hands through them. Your nail traces his lower lip where it was clearly cracked open but is now glazed over with a layer of dry blood. “Lose any teeth?” 

He smiles, pearls still intact, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad. His breath smells faintly of alcohol as he says, “You look tired.”

“I am so tired,” you admit. 

He grits his teeth guiltily, “I’ll make it up to you.” 

An officer clears his throat and passes Eddie a brown paper bag with ‘Munson’ scribbled on the front. He snatches the bag with a wink. The man offers nothing but a blank stare, maybe mild disapproval as Eddie pivots and jogs toward you, already at the door. He fishes for his lighter from the bag, kissing and pocketing it as you step outside. 

“Can I drive?” Eddie reaches for the keys in your hand. You always let him drive. 

You snatch the carabiner to your chest, elbowing his side, “Are you trying to get a DUI too?” 

“I had one beer,” he scoffs as you unlock the door. 

You believe him but pretend not to as you hop in the driver's seat. “You’re a criminal now. Can’t be trusted!” You yell playfully before slamming the door as he jogs around the hood. 

“Very funny,” he mutters as he climbs in. 

You sling your arm over his seat to back out. The streetlight accentuates the bruise when you glance past him. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Hmm?” 

You point at your own cheek. 

“Oh, no. It’s fine. Should’ve seen the other guy,” he chuckles. 

“We’ll ice it when we get home,” you pull out onto the main road before settling your gaze back on him. “So who was the other guy?” 

His eyes roll in your peripherals, “So Shelly Watkins was there—“ 

“You hit Shelly Watkins?” 

“Jesus! No! Her stupid boyfriend Rob Perry.” He groans in disgust. “You remember him? He was such a dick in high school!” 

You shake your head, trying to recall. 

“He’s a couple of years older I think. Well anyway, Shelly was blabbing her big mouth, as usual, about Robin and her new girlfriend.” 

“What was she saying?” You interrupt, curious but inferring already. 

“Nasty shit. And she’s talking so loud the whole bar can probably hear. I mean, I couldn’t not say anything, babe. And hey,” he throws his hands up in surrender, “All I said was ‘Seems like what other people do in their spare time isn’t your business.’” 

You smirk, knowing it was not as polite as he made it out to be. 

“And Rob is all ‘What did you say?’” Eddie teasingly lowers his voice, foot hiked up in his seat to face you with a finger curled under his nose like a mustache. 

You steal glances from the road to watch the theatrics as he retells the story, making sure to emphasize when he punched Rob square in the nose so hard it broke. 

“Did you win?” You ask, attempting to hide your proud grin by checking your blind spot. 

“Oh yeah.” Eddie crosses his arms, accidentally nicking the wound on his lip with his nail as he retracts the faux finger stache. He winces, tapping the cut to assess the damage. Fresh blood coats his finger; he’s quick to press his whole hand over his mouth as he fumbles through the glovebox with the other. A deck of fast food napkins you’d organized spills out. You catch one before it falls, crumpling it into his free hand and swerving back into your lane. He replaces his hand with the thin sheet, wiping his fingers on another napkin off the floor as you pull up to a stoplight. 

He tips his head like a puppy when he catches you staring. You lick your thumb, smearing a stray drop crawling down his chin. Your palm lingers on his skin, rubbing circles behind his ear as the light flicks green. 

It’s not long before you pull into the driveway and unlock the front door. Eddie holds a third napkin to his face. You consider going to the ER for stitches as you toss the keys on the counter and snatch a Ziploc bag from the cabinet. 

Two lines of light form a skewed L in the hall from the cracked bathroom door; A silent message that you are allowed to come in. It squeaks familiarly loud on its hinges but Eddie doesn't acknowledge you. 

He focuses on his reflection as he peels the napkin away hesitantly. The blood has stopped but his lip looks swollen and angry. You hook a finger through his belt loop, tugging him until he turns. You nudge the bag of ice to his cheek and he flinches grasping your hand to pull it away. 

“‘s cold.” 

You tug the hand towel off the sink and wrap the plastic, pushing it back to his cheek. You hold it there caressing his lash line with your pointer. He leans into the touch, rubbing his eyes with ringed fingers. Eddie pulls the thick silver off one by one, setting them on the counter. 

“Sit,” you tell him. 

He perches on the edge of the toilet lid obediently. You pick a washcloth from the drawer and run it under the sink. He parts his knees as you approach him, hands snapping into place at your hips. You cup his chin, pushing up until he tilts it toward you. Cool water cleans his lips where you brush. He doesn’t flinch, even when you accidentally dig too hard. You progress down to his jaw, where blood is smeared dry, and flaky. 

 “Think I’ll have a cool scar?” His breath fans your chin as you work cautiously. 

“No,” you say. He toys with the strings on your pants, happy to be taken care of. “But you don’t need it. You’re cool already.” 

The corners of his mouth lift fondly. He fights the urge to smile, hoping you’ll work longer if he sits still. You swipe in slow strokes, also secretly loving the time and touch. 

You give his face a once over before tossing the rag to the counter. He searches your expression for a diagnosis. But words are slow to find your mouth, too enraptured with the long lashes that bat his cheeks sweetly. “I love how eager you are to stick up for the people you love,” you start. 

“But?”

“But, we can’t afford you getting arrested over something like this.”

“I know,” he groans and headbutts you gently in the stomach. His hands cup the backs of your thighs and his hair drapes around his face like a curtain. You comb a handful of it over his neck and he tilts his head so you can see his eyes. “I don’t regret what I did, though. He’s always been such a bully. He deserved it, you know?” He sighs, gaze drifting away, “I felt like I could finally stand up to him after all these years.” 

Your fingers trail down his shoulder to smooth out the tee riding up his back. “I don’t doubt that he deserved it. I know you just want to do the right thing. But still, he can probably afford it, we can’t.” You hesitate to ask, “Where did you get that money anyway?” 

He hugs your middle, muttering into your belly, “Been saving.” 

“For what?” 

He shrugs and says what you believe to be, “Something special.” You are curious but lean on your trust rather than insecurity. He most likely intended to surprise you with something if you didn’t know.

“Sorry, you had to spend it.”

“Not your fault.” He peers up at you as if to ensure you know that and you brush his bangs back. 

“Still, sorry.” 

He blinks slowly up at you like a cat waiting for more pets. Then, he shoots up, back stiff, eyes wide. “You have work tomorrow,” he realizes out loud. 

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” you pull his arm until he stands. “I actually have come down with a real nasty cold,” you force a cough into your fist. 

“Oh yeah?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, not only that but there's this criminal that won’t leave me alone. Think I might have to file a report at the station tomorrow.” 

He laughs, flicking the light off as he follows you to the bedroom. The ice pack is left to melt in the sink and the stained washcloth to dry on the counter, a mess for tomorrow you’ve decided. You’re quick to crawl under the covers and he’s even quicker to shed his clothes and join you. 

Eddie pecks the sliver of collarbone poking out of your shirt, making his way up in a dotted line. He presses gently to your lips, and you break away mindfully, aiming for the corner instead. 

“You know?” Your eyes are closed but you feel his stare. 

You hum.

“I think it’s kinda sexy when you call me a criminal.” 

“Oh my God!” You throw an arm over your burning cheeks, “You are so horny.”

He laughs into your wrist but moves it aside to cradle your cheeks firmly. He pulls one eyelid open gently with his thumb when you refuse to engage. You release the smile you’ve been keeping. He mirrors it, teeth bright in the moonlight spilling in. “Think about it, I already have handcuffs so you can play bad cop and—“ 

You grope for a pillow to push into his face and then another when he chucks it off the bed, giggles overlapping. 

“I’m going to call the police on you, have them arrest you again. Take you to horny jail.” 

“Now you get it,” he releases his grip on your wrists to sit back on his heels and in a voice that is not his own he fawns, “Oh, officer! I promise to be a good boy from now on!” 

You roll over, groaning wildly into your pillow. “Go to bed!” 

He settles behind you, his heart races where it's thumping against your back. Yours isn’t far off. A final kiss is planted on your nape where he tickles you with his hair as he wishes you a good night.

[kinascum]

TAG! - M. STURNIOLO

SYNOPSIS: What happens when your brother's best friend pushes your boundaries in a thrilling encounter?

CONTENTS: nls!reader, explicit sexual content, strong language, power dynamics, degradation, chasing? primal? idk, no actual piv, oral (male), semi-public, humiliation.

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

pt2 (chris)

You sit around the kitchen table of the cozy cabin, the glow of the moonlight spilling in through the windows, casting shadows across the well-worn Monopoly board. The laughter and banter of the evening's game slowly die down as the last few hotel properties are snatched up, and the bank is declared bankrupt. Your brother Nate, and his best friends, grin at each other, the competitive spirit still lingering in the air. It's late, and the yawns start to take over, signaling the end of the night.

The cabin's wooden floorboards creak as everyone heads to their designated sleeping areas. The fireplace crackles, casting a warm, flickering light across the room. You settle into your bed, but the excitement of the day keeps sleep at bay. The rustling of blankets and muffled snores from your brother's room reminds you that you're not the only one who remains restless.

The whispers of the night beckon you and you find yourself tiptoeing to the bedroom door. You peek into the hallway, noticing a sliver of light seeping out from under Matt's door. Curiosity piqued, you ease the door open to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, staring at the floor. "Can't sleep either?" he asks, looking up and catching your gaze.

"Yeah, it's like my brain won't shut up," you admit, stepping into the room. "Wanna go outside for some fresh air?"

Matt nods, a glint in his eye. "How about we play a game to pass the time?"

Intrigued, you follow him out into the cool night, the crunch of gravel underfoot. The moon casts a silver path down to the lake, where the water laps gently against the shore. The air is alive with the scent of pine and the distant sound of an owl's hoot.

"Okay, I'll chase you," he says with a smirk, "and if I catch you, I win."

You laugh, thinking it's just a way to burn off some energy. "What do I get if I win?"

"We'll see," he teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ready or not, here I come!"

And with that, he's off, his sneakers pounding the ground as he sprints towards you. You squeal, the thrill of the chase igniting your senses. As you dart away from him, the night air feels alive with electricity, your heart pounding in your chest. This is the kind of thrill you live for, the kind that makes you feel alive.

The game starts innocently enough, the two of you weg through the trees, laughing and panting. But as the minutes tick by, the adrenaline turns into something else. Something you've felt simmering between you for a while now, something you've been too scared to acknowledge. The wind carries the scent of him, a tantalizing mix of aftershave and pure masculine energy. Your skin tingles with anticipation, and you start to feel the heat building deep within you.

Matt's breath is hot on your neck as he catches up, his strong hands grabbing you around the waist. You gasp, feeling his solid body pressed against yours, the game turning into something much more primal. You can feel the heat of his body overcome yours, and it sends a shockwave through your core. This isn't just a game anymore; it's a dance of desire that you're both eager to explore.

He whispers in your ear, his voice thick with lust, "I win."

With a firm grip, he spins you around and pushes you to your knees. You look up at him, a mix of fear and excitement swirling in your eyes. He's serious. The gravity of the moment hits you like a ton of bricks, but you don't resist. You want this. You've wanted this for a long time.

He unbuckles his belt, the metal clinking in the stillness of the night, and unzips his pants, pulling out his hard cock. "You know how this goes," he murmurs, stroking himself, watching you with a hungry gaze. "You're gonna let me use that pretty little throat?"

Your heart races as you lean in, your mouth watering despite the fear. You wrap your lips around him, and he groans, his hand tangling in your hair. He's not gentle, pushing deeper into your mouth, his grip tightening with every moan. The taste of him fills your senses, a mix of salt and earth, and you can't help but feel a twinge of excitement. This isn't how you thought this night would go, but the way he's looking at you, the way he's holding you, it's like he's claiming you, and it turns you on more than you ever thought possible.

You try to keep up, but he's too much for you. You gag, and he laughs, a dark sound that sends shivers down your spine. "Look at you," he says, "such a good little slut, take it." Spit trails down your chin, and your eyes water, but you don't stop. You can't. The thrill of it all is too intense.

"I bet Nate never knew what a whore you are," he murmurs, his voice low aging. "Letting me fuck your mouth out here like some cheap hooker." His words are like a slap in the face, but they only serve to make you wetter. Your eyes narrow as your brows chisel in, but you're his, and you're letting him do this to you. It's a power play, and you're both acutely aware of it.

"Oh, you're mad?" He laughs. The sound of branches underfoot in the distance makes your heart leap. "Better hurry up," he says, his eyes glinting with excitement, "or Chris might find you like this and want a taste" The thought sends a jolt of fear and arousal through you. "Oh, but you'd love that, being used by both your brother's best friends?" Your mind races. What would Nate think if he found you like this? What would Nick do? The possibility of getting caught only adds to the thrill.

Matt's hand moves to your chin, holding it in a firm grip as he fucks your mouth harder, faster. "Take it, baby," he growls, his hips bucking against your face. "You like it, huh?" You nod, unable to speak with his cock lodged in your throat, you mumble around his shaft. You do love it. The degradation, the power he has over you in this moment, it's intoxicating.

Finally, with a grunt, he pulls out, coming all over your face and chest. You collapse back onto the ground, gasping for air, your heart racing and your eyes like storms behind shed tears. He wipes his dick off your shirt, smiling down at you like he's just conquered the world. "You've always been mine, don’t get mad now," he says, his voice full of satisfaction. He leans down, his hand on your jaw suddenly pulls away and the sing on your face is accompanied by the hot spit thrown at you. "Mine to use whenever I want."

The night air is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, and you can't help but feel a little bit used. But you don't care. You're his, and that's all that matters. The tension between you is palpable, the line between friendship and something darker is now irrevocably blurred. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, tasting him on your lips, and wonder if this is the start of something new.

As you both catch your breath, the sound of footsteps grows louder. Panic flares in your chest. "we have to get back." You stumble to your feet, your legs wobbly from the intense experience. Matt chuckles, tucking himself back into his pants.

Together, you sneak back towards the cabin, your heart pounding in your ears. As you enter the cabin, you see the light from Nate's room is now off. Did he hear you? Did he know what was happening outside?

You slip into your bed, your body still humming with desire, your mind racing with thoughts of what's to come. The lines between friendship and lust have been crossed, and there's no going back.

tags! @sturnstvs @gxldenlush @immattsslut @slut4chriss @stasiesturn @jetaimevous @solarsturniolo @watercolorskyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @meowira @secretagentspy @shadowthesim @baileysturns

love, paz<3

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Fourteen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Discussion of child loss/miscarriage and domestic violence. Oral sex - fem receiving, face sitting, Johnny is a menace as usual, Simon talks you through it, dirty talk, brief daddy kink, pet names. Nurse!reader, medical inaccuracies, feelings of fear and anxiety, PTSD. Dialogue heavy. Bunny making progress. What's in a name?

When you were a child, you got caught in a storm.

Getting caught in a storm as an adult is a normal thing. It’s not frightening and foreign like it is when you’re young. When you’re a child, storms feel like hurricanes. They feel life altering, life ending. With no concept of larger, or smaller storms, it’s hard to understand how you’d make it through the to the other side.

You remember this one vividly. Your mother was on her way to work, her night job, and you were clicked into the backseat, barely awake, staring out the rain pelted window. The wind was so strong it shook the car, blew it all over the road, your mom’s fingers like rebar gripping the wheel. It was terrifying. It was like you’d never be safe, like the wind would pick your entire world up and send it crashing down into a farm field that stretched a million miles long.

It felt, somewhat, like this moment, and hundreds of moments before it. Small thorns in a life that no longer felt like your own. A far cry from the dreams you had when you were that little girl.

The thorns, the storms, had twisted you into this version of yourself, this stranger, and that’s how you feel as you stand in front of Simon, cold panic crackling through your bones.  

Your mouth opens and closes without sound coming out. You’re a fish out of water, lips parting just to swallow dry air, eyes wider than saucers.

Penny cries in your arms, but Simon doesn’t move. Johnny doesn’t breathe, and you stand alone in the silence, baby vomit on your clothes, trembling in fear.

They won’t understand. They’ll know you’re a liar. They won’t trust you. 

They won’t want you.  

“It’s not… I arranged it months ago.” You blurt, words strung together in a stream of consciousness. “It’s not like, you can just go out and buy a new passport. It takes a while, and connections, and lots of hoops and money and I-“ Simon holds his hand up.

A signal to stop.

“Give me the baby.” He says, stepping forward, arms out, and your hands shake as you pass her over, avoiding eye contact until he tips your chin back. “Take a deep breath, go upstairs, get cleaned up. When you come back down, we’ll talk. Okay?” He looks to Johnny, who nods, and then back to you, expectantly waiting on your answer.

“O-okay.”

Simon still has the passport.

It’s in front of his knee, on the coffee table, but within arm’s reach, close enough he could snatch it up in moment’s notice.

“Were ye goin’ to leave us?” Johnny whispers, and you shake your head.

“No, I… it takes a while. I arranged it months and months ago, before I even met you.” Simon frowns.

“This is not a fake, it’s a real passport. How did you get it?” Oh, fuck. Your throat is as dry as paper, scratchy and stiff, and you force yourself to spit out a coherent sentence.

“I bought it… from a guy.” Brilliant. You sneak a glance at Johnny, who’s watching with a pink sheen on his cheeks, knuckles white against the arm of the couch. He looks upset, and guilt swamps you, worry over making him feel worse in his state eating away inside your heart.

“You know a guy who can get his hands on government issued documents?” Simon holds himself very still. Nearly a statue, his eyes never leave your face, and you move your hands under your thighs to try to stop their trembling.

There’s a familiar feeling building in your chest. A twisted, gnarled root of fear, growing deep. “I… it’s… no, he’s… I was referred to him, by someone else. He doesn’t even know my real name, I’m careful, I’ve-“

“Done this before.” Simon finishes, and your heart stops in your chest.

“Yes.” You whisper. How are they going to feel when they realize you’ve been lying to them about your name? You spiral, imagining the hurt flashing across their faces, the disappointment from Simon, the sadness from Johnny. “I use a new identity, when I move around.”

“Your name…”

“Isn’t my real one.” The admission stings, but that person doesn’t exist anymore. You haven’t been that happy, fulfilled, carefree girl in too long. You don’t know her. You don’t remember her.

She’s dead.

She’s a ghost.

“Will ye tell us? Yer real name?” Simon is thoughtful from where he sits on the chair, focused, as Johnny looks hopeful. They’re both looking at you with trust heavy in their eyes, and it gnaws, burns in your bones all the way through until your real name is slipping free with a whisper.

“That’s beautiful, bun.” Johnny murmurs sweetly, and they exchange a look, something stern etching across Simon’s brow before it drifts away.

“Do you want us to use it?” You shake your head.

“N-no, I… I’m not that girl… anymore. She’s long gone.” The room is silent, and you mull it over, toss it back and forth in your mind. You’re so disconnected from the person you were when you last felt whole, when you last felt real. How will you ever feel that way again?

Something flickers in Simon’s gaze. Something severe and almost sad, a storm in the middle of a sea, a little boat with nowhere to hide, and you get lost in it, lost in him, a million lives and a million emotions clouding the space between your bodies.

He swallows, and it’s gone.

“How does that work with your nursing license?” You blink, but you’re not surprised he knows to ask the one question that will undoubtedly unravel the rest of the threads. The biggest piece of the puzzle.

“I…” Fuck. Are you really going to do this? Are you doing this? 

Do you trust them? 

It’s not a question now, you know the answer. Know why it is you’ve been sleeping in their bed, helping with their baby, living in their house.

It’s more than trust.

“I had a friend in college. Dean.” You’re really doing this. “He was really smart, and really kind, and going places. We were on different paths, but we stayed in touch. As best we could… my ex didn’t really like me talking to… anyone.” Johnny’s fingers slide across the couch, hesitantly brushing your thigh, and it grounds you, calms you. “He became a fancy, big time lawyer. Like, really big time. One of the best in Texas,” Simon’s eyes narrow, head tilted as he stares at you, before it all flits away, and he returns to stasis, “possibly the country. He… he helped me.” You pause, unsure, and Johnny nods encouragingly.

“Helped ye how?”

“I’ve been running, had been running, for a while. Years. At one point, Dean got a judge in a different state to agree to change my name, my identity, everything, and then seal the record. It gave me a chance to disappear, a fresh start to build from. Or, I thought it did, anyway. My ex is… very determined, it didn’t take long for him to catch up.”

“So, your license…”

“Whenever I get a new job, I refer the HR department to my big fancy lawyer in Texas, and he makes sure my license is accepted and they understand the circumstances. I manage the rest… on my own. The turning over of a new identity- identification documents, passports, housing, everything.”

“Do they know anything about this?”

“No. I think they probably think I’m in witness protection or something, and per the court order, they can’t discuss the discrepancy with the name on the license to anyone in the hospital. Dean makes sure of that.” You laugh weakly, but Simon doesn’t, he only studies you, laser focused. “I can’t really have contact with him anymore, because it leaves too much… out in the open, but he’s a really good friend. The best.” Tears blur your vision as you think about Dean, remembering the way he stared at you the night you turned up on his doorstep.

You were so young then. So stupid. But he gave you best chance he could, and you’d always be grateful.

Johnny reaches for where your hand is shoved beneath your thigh, and lightly tugs until it’s in his grasp, warm and safe.

“An’ ye change yer identity every time?” You nod, lips tucking in over your teeth.

“That’s what the passport is for. In most places, a passport counts for both a birth certificate and identification card, so they don’t ask for a secondary. It’s the easiest to use.”

“You were preparing to run.” Simon murmurs.

“Before Johnny became my patient, I was getting ready to, yeah.”

“Why?” You take a deep breath, but your chest feels too tight. Fear is still dripping down the back of your throat, making your stomach sick, your hands tremble.

“I knew he was here.” The words break apart into a sob, and your eyes slam shut.

The next thing you know, you’re breathing into Johnny’s warm chest, a hand running up and down your back slowly.

“I don’t want to be scared anymore.” You cry, gasping. “I.. I’m scared all the time. I run all the time. I d-don’t even know who I am, without it. I don’t know how to be here, or be a normal person, or have a normal conversation.”

“Shhh, yer alright, pretty girl. It’s okay.” Johnny hums, and you feel his diaphragm vibrate as he soothes you.

“I want to be with you… but I don’t know how. I’m terrified he’ll come here and- and hurt you, or Penny. That it will be my fault, like everything else has.” You cry harder, chest aching, Simon’s hands closing around your shoulders and pulling you back to tilt your face up to the two of them.

“It’s not your fault, bunny. None of it, ever, has been your fault. Do you understand?” You shake your head no, because you don’t. You’re good at running, at hiding. You’ve made a new life over and over again by doing it, and getting caught is your fault, no matter what they say.

You slipped up. It could happen again. 

“You don’t understand. I… I should have left, after he found me in my apartment. I should have left.” It sticks in your mind, playing over and over again. “I sh-should have left, I shouldn’t be here, I-“ your vision tunnels.

“Okay, okay. Easy, sweetheart.” Simon tries to settle you, but everything is bubbling up and you feel like you’re going to explode, like your skin is too tight, like you’re falling apart, all at once.

There’s nothing left inside of you, nothing left to do.

You break.

Millions of miles of denial and fear and agony splinter, shattering into shards that destroy you from the inside out.

“He’s going to kill me.” Johnny curses something thick as you sob, palm flat over your racing heart. “He t-took everything. He made me into… into this, and it’s only a matter of time. He’s going to find me again, and he… he’s-“ He cups your cheek.

“Shhh, bunny. We’re here, we’re right here.”

“No, he’s not. Listen-“ you try to pull away but Johnny stops you, holding you firm as Simon ducks into your line of sight. “Listen to me. He’s never going to touch you again, do you understand? We will never let him near you, ever again. We promise.”

“You can’t pr-promise that.”  

“We can,” Simon vows, “but… we need to know everything. What we’re looking for, who he is.”

No. You don’t know why, but there’s a barrier around Phillip’s name. Like you can’t force your tongue to make the sound, and you can’t tell them.

If they know, they’ll look for him. They’ll try to find him; you can already tell.

They’ll get hurt, or worse.

You can’t let that happen.

“I can’t.” You whisper. “I can’t.” Johnny pulls you back into his arms, and you curl up against him, his chin on top of your head. They look at one another, long glances you can’t interpret, before Simon takes a deep breath, his hand gentle on your knee.

“Bunny… do you have a child? Someone you’re trying to protect?” Your eyes slip shut, and despair grips your throat like a vice.

“No.” You croak. “No, there would have been one but…” you drag the truth into the light. “I lost it. He didn’t want it so… he got rid of it.” They both freeze.

“Sweetheart.” Simon whispers, Johnny’s arms going rigid, and you shrug, slipping away from this moment, from them.

“It was a long time ago.” You pause, keeping your eyes closed. “I’m fine.” Johnny scoffs.

“The hell ye are. And ye shouldnae be.” You shake between them, exhaustion settling into your bones like it belongs there, and they linger in silence with you, in the moment, letting it stretch long before Simon murmurs something and brushes his fingertips against your cheek.

“We’ll wait, until you’re ready.” You relax with a small sigh. “But if we don’t know who we’re dealing with, that means no more coming and going. I don’t want you outside this house without me, do you understand?”

“I’m going back to work.” You refute immediately.

“When you’re ready to go back, we’ll come up with a plan to keep you safe.” He says sternly, and you swallow, eyes wide.

“We jus’ want to keep ye safe, pretty girl.” Simon tugs your hand into his, and murmurs lowly.

“I know you’re independent, and you’re used to being on your own, but we’re here now. You don’t have to do this alone. We’ve got you.” Tears burn at the corner of your eyes.

You should tell them no, but you can’t.

You should be angry, or nervous, or even scared, but all you can feel is relief.

You don’t have to do this alone.

The house is quiet when you wake up the next morning.

It’s odd now, opening your eyes to an empty bed. All you’ve known for years, is being alone. All you’ve relied on for so long, was yourself.

But now, when your arms and legs spread wide between the sheets and you come up empty, panic flutters in your heart. “Johnny? Simon?” When there’s no answer, you stumble over the side, loping steps hauling you down the stairs and into the living room.

Johnny’s half-awake on the couch in his boxers, flipping idly through television programs. You breathe a little bit easier, and he cracks a smile. “Morning, pretty.”

“Morning.” You bend in front of him, swooping down to press your lips to his. “Where’s…”

“He took Pen to swim. She’s in classes and then has a playdate at a friend’s house after. Busy wee one, our Penny.” Fingers idly rub against the skin beneath his ear, tracing down to his collarbone.

“You eat breakfast?”

“Was waitin’ for ye.” Something dark and hungry glints in his eyes, and your knees go weak.

“Oh, w-well I can make you someth-“

“No.” He traces down the inside of your thigh, where he’s eye level, and then up, backs of his fingers stroking over the front of your panties, thumb skirting along the seam between your legs. “Not hungry for food, bun. Just for ye.”

“O-oh.” His thumb presses, just enough pressure brushing against your clit, and you gasp, hand shooting out to steady yourself on the arm of the sofa, where his head is.

His lips touch to the inside of your wrist, and he grins. “C’mere Bunny.”

“You’re still recovering.” Your fingers twist in the hem of the t shirt you grabbed off the floor, one of theirs.

“My face isn’t.” His hands wrap around the backs of your thighs, tugging you closer. “My face is the perfect seat for ye, pretty girl. Let me make ye feel good.” Everything tightens, your chest, your heart, each blood vessel stitched throughout your body. Your clit pulses, knot in your stomach tying so tight it makes you lightheaded, agony and arousal singing together in perfect harmony. It’s a song with perfect pitch, swirling around the two of you in euphoric polyphony.

You want this. Want him. Want to let it all go. 

“Johnny.”

“Got a seat for ye,” his fingers trace over his lip and down his neck, where his throat bobs with a swallow. You can’t pull your eyes away. “Right ‘ere.”

It doesn’t take more coaxing after he tucks his fingers into your underwear and rolls them down your thighs, giving you a light pat just under your ass, shifting and arranging until you’re perched across his shoulders.

“What if you can’t breathe?” Your voice hitches on a panicked note, and he rubs your legs soothingly.

“Then I’ll die a happy man.” You choke. “Just kiddin’ bunny. Ye cannae hurt me, I can breathe just fine.” His eyebrows crinkle and crease, soft expression puckering down to where his lips part.

Let go. You can do it. You want this. Just let go. 

“I- I’m not very good with…” You gulp, chest heaving. “With sex, I uh. I don’t have good memories of it, and I’ve never… I’ve never done this.” It’s the best you can explain, in this moment, and you pray it’s enough, that he’ll understand.

“We’ll go slow.” He promises, still rubbing circles into the backs of your legs, grabbing fistfuls of your ass and thighs, pressing long kisses into your skin. “Ye tell me to stop, if ye dinnae like it or ye want to stop, promise?” You nod. “Say it, pretty girl.”

“I’ll tell you… to stop.” He smiles, and urges you forward, palms still curved around your cheeks.

“Cannae wait to taste ye,” you move slowly, hesitantly, and he encourages gently, patting and rubbing patiently, eyes locked your face the entire time, “have been dreamin’ about it, since that day ye didnae wear any panties to work.”

“Johnny!” you hiss, playfully scandalized, heart trilling. He’s turned a miserable memory, a scary memory, into something not so bad, so easily. It means a lot, means more than you think he knows, and you’re just about to tell him when you feel heat slip across your skin, thumbs stroking down the seam of your cunt. He jerks you forward completely, until the bottom half of his face is missing, and all you can see beneath your legs is a crop of mohawk.

The first touch is heaven. He’s warm, and safe, and you melt onto him, indulging in the feeling of it all. His arms wrap around your hips, anchoring you in place, mouth sloppy against your pussy like he’s trying to devour you whole. You jerk, falling forward at the waist, one hand against the couch, the other fisted in his hair, trying to create space for him to breathe.

“No.” He growls, slamming you back down, nose bumping against your clit over and over as his tongue dives into you, curling up into your body.

You close your eyes. You need more friction, but you don’t know what to do, don’t know how to get it, and the longer you try to figure it out, the more you’re slipping away, kicking and fighting in darker waters.

Stay present. Stay here. With him. You’re safe. Let go. 

Your breath stutters in your chest. Two factions fight one another, one trying to catapult you towards an orgasm faster than you’ve ever gotten there in your life, and the other, trying and failing to stem the memories and anxiety that bleed freely from your brain. The pleasure is mixed with pain, with nightmares, and your muscles turn to rock, eyes slamming shut.

A big, warm hand settles between your shoulder blades.

You jolt away from it, but when your eyes snap open-

You see Simon.

He’s on his knees at your side, part of your thigh now pressed against his chest. He watches you intently, sweeping over your features and down to where you’re sitting on Johnny’s face, half relaxed, half coiled tense.

“You’re in control, sweetheart.” Even kneeling, he’s tall enough that he’s nearly eye level with you, and Johnny’s free hand searches for him when he hears his voice. Simon gives him a squeeze, and then lovingly strokes some of his hair from his forehead. “Our sweet boy just wants to make you feel good. Do you want that?”

“Y-yeah.. but I don’t… I don’t know how.” You squeak, burning with embarrassment, still clutching the couch. He pulls that hand free, into his, and rubs a thumb over the back of your knuckles, before placing it back against the armrest. It’s comforting, and reassuring, and he keeps the other one anchored at your back.

“Just relax.” He murmurs above your ear, now cradling your hips. “Hold onto the couch with both hands, like that- good girl.” His grip tightens, and then slowly, he starts to move you. “Find what feels good, take your time.” You roll your hips slowly, looking for the right amount of pressure, the friction you’re desperate for, and Johnny moans beneath you, his own hips flexing. “There you go, does that feel good?” Simon’s eyes are nearly black, and you nod hungrily. “Ride him just like that, don’t stop.”

“Oh my god.” You moan, tilting back. Each time Johnny’s nose or tongue rubs against your clit it’s like lightning striking in your blood, and warmth crackles around you like a blanket.

“Fuck,” Simon growls, palm pressing against your lower belly. “Look a’ the two of you, all mine.” The possession shivers across your skin and you moan, head heavy. Johnny’s tongue finds your rhythm, and then he’s flicking across your clit like he’s plucking a string, a perfect note.

“Johnny, ah…” He groans something in response, the vibration shooting straight to your brain. You tip to the side, face pressing into Simon’s neck, and he supports your weight, keeping a hand on your hip, now spread over where Johnny holds you. You're in a frenzy now, panting, chasing, rough pace only increasing with desperation.

“Good girl, rubbing your little pussy all over our sweet boy’s face. Is he going to make you cum? Can you show daddy how pretty you are when you cum?” Daddy. The word makes you dizzy, strikes you dumb. Simon’s lips press to the crown of your head, and all you can do is gasp and whine, hips jerking across Johnny’s nose and mouth, slick, lewd noises coming from between your legs.

“Oh, oh- fuck,” you gasp, fingers now tightening in Johnny’s hair, electricity sparking through your muscles like fireworks, “I’m gonna- I’m-“ You drag yourself across him, chasing the edge of oblivion, white light crackling behind your eyes as you clench them shut with a near shout. Your orgasm shoots through you, exploding every cell in your body into star light, everything heating together as your eyes roll backwards and your hips shake. Johnny grunts, still anchoring you down onto him, aftershocks rattling through your bones to your teeth. Simon pries him lose, keeping a hand on you, and him, as he pulls you back to reveal Johnny’s face.

He's soaked. Neck, chin, cheeks, stubble all coated in you, and your eyes goes wide, wicked pleasure at the sight curling in the pit of your stomach.

You did that. Your boy.

Simon chuckles like he’s reading your mind, tucking you into his chest before pulling you free and placing you in the space next to Johnny on the couch, laying down. He kisses him slowly, softly, running his tongue over his cheeks before returning to dip back into his mouth and pulling away. “Stay, ‘m gonna go get a towel to clean you both up.” He says quietly, kissing your nose before rising and slipping off into the kitchen. Johnny tries to tug you closer.

“How was that?” You can hear the smug smile and his face as he breaks the silence, and your cheeks burn.

“Really good.”

“Hmph, I was shooting for amazing, so I guess we’ll just have to try again.”

“That’s not… it was!” He laughs, and then gives you a half hug with his good arm.

“Ye were perfect, bunny. We’re so lucky to have ye.” Tears burn and threaten to spill.

“I’m the lucky one.” You whisper, and you don’t know if anything could be truer. It’s more than luck now, more than a chance meeting, a chance occurrence. It’s something bigger, something all consuming, something stronger than anything you’ve ever known.

Something bright, like the sun.

Something like… love. 

[shiny-jr]

✦ damnation [ the vizier's vassal ]

– Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

– Characters: Kalim Al-Asim, Jamil Viper.

– Note: Please enjoy this post! Hopefully everything is okay, since I just copy and pasted from the quiz and skimmed.

– Pages: 42

– Not satisfied? Try looking here for the quiz to take it yourself and see where you end up banished!

The Diviner   |   The Vizier's Vassal   |   The Raven Retainer

Feathers. Colorful feathers tickled your nose. A woven shawl sat on your shoulders with vibrant colors and macaw feathers along the clip that held it in place above your collarbone. As your vision readjusted to the scenery, you could make out an old desert city stretching out as far as the eye could see, until it met over the horizon with the starry night sky. It was nothing like the court you were in moments ago. Instantly everything came flashing back to you, the trial, the judges, your punishment. This was your punishment. “Holy shit.” 

“Is something wrong?” 

You looked to the side, surprised to see a servant placing a tray beside you. You were on a balcony, a beautiful grand spacious terrace where the arches were decorated with ivy and walls of flowers while pillars of flames provided light and there was a large water fountain in the center. You were laying on the edge of that fountain, when you pushed yourself up and looked around. That’s when you noticed your clothes had changed too. Somehow your simple change of clothes from before had become easy-to-move-in loose trousers and a simple tunic, but with the colorful shawl over your shoulders that resembled wings. “What? What the hell?” 

“Is there something wrong with the food?” 

Food? You looked down at the tray the servant had brought, surprised to see a plate of kofta with a chalice of water. The delicious smell wafted in the air, making your mouth water and stomach grumble. How long has it been since you ate? Probably well before you were arrested. If you got food, you were expecting cold slop, not this scrumptious meal that was cooked to perfection. Instantly you snatched it up, assuring the servant, “No, no, forget it! This is fine, uh, thanks…!” 

“Very well.” They bowed their head to you, “Please, enjoy the meal, vassal.” 

Vassal? You stopped mid-bite, about to ask them about it and where you were, but they had already taken off. Well, you weren’t complaining. You had thought you were going to die, or end up in some horrible hell. This place was actually quite nice. You could feel the breeze of the cool desert air and smell the flora growing on this terrace, you heard the city below with the crackling of fire from the pillars and the running water beside you, not to mention you were eating the best food you ever tasted! If this was hell, then being banished might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you! 

“You! Jamil’s vassal!” 

There it was again. What the hell did they mean by vassal? Your cheeks were stuffed with food you had shoveled into your mouth, as you slowly and awkwardly turned around to face whoever called you. Who was Jamil? You had no idea. A little annoyed that your dinner was interrupted, you eyed the approaching stranger up and down before swallowing your food and muttering, “What do you want?”

Appearing offended at your response, the young man stomped up to you, closer so you could see him better in the dim lighting. He looks a little young, if you had to guess, you’d say the guy was no younger than eighteen. Sharp blue eyes and long thick black hair styled into a single braid, not to mention he wasn’t smiling. This was no servant judging by the expensive looking blue garbs he wore and the gold on his bronze ears that complimented his handsome face. It had to be someone of high standing. When he was right in front of you, he frowned down at you and placed his hands on his hips, “Where is Jamil? And where is my cousin?” 

You lowered your plate of food, squinting incredulously at this stranger. Who did he think he was? Jamil? Cousin? “Your cousin…? Jamil…? How should I know?” 

“You should know. As the vizier’s only vassal, you should know where Jamil is. That is your job, to serve him. Or is he slithering about in places he shouldn’t be?” As his blue eyes bore down at you, he continued his tirade, “You haven’t bowed your head or greeted me as everyone does, by saying, good day, Prince Jaseer. And you’re here slacking off while everyone else in the palace is dutifully working.” 

“I’m on a lunch break.” You mumbled in reply, tempted to snap. Wait… had he said prince…? A beautiful royal in blue wearing gold, with long black hair, who is spirited and no-nonsense, like a princess in a fantasy tale. A princess that lived in a palace just like this one, where there was a vizier and sultan–– oh fuck. How was that possible? This was like a stupid kid’s story you heard all the time! Before you could ponder on the topic, you were reminded of who was in front of you by him cleaning his throat. You immediately bowed your head sloppily, begrudgingly, as you recited the words he wanted to hear. “Good day, Prince Jaseer…” 

At your less-than-satisfactory response, he crossed his arms over his chest and replied still with that frown, “If you can’t answer my question, then there’s no use talking to you. I’ll find someone who can tell me where my cousin and Jamil are. Let it be known, I have my eye on you and your master. My cousin may be fond of you both, but I am not.” 

When you slowly lifted your head, you watched the prince storm away, likely to go find his cousin, whoever that was, and the vizier, this Jamil guy. As soon as he turned a corner, you scrunched your nose and scoffed, “Brat.” 

Wait… that meant this was a story. It was all too similar to a story that began much like: it begins on a dark night, where a dark man waits with a dark purpose. If this was that story then what were you…? Apparently working for the vizier, wearing a shawl of rainbows, and feathers… oh my god, you were the fucking parrot. As you resumed your eating you busied your mind with processing these thoughts. “At least the tax collector can’t find me here.”

All you knew was that you were in the role of his parrot, his pet. What a stupid role to end up in! In this version you hoped you were at least some sort of glorified servant! At least you weren’t dead, this was much better than that. You knew the tale of Aladdin by heart, it was a very popular story growing up. You had even envied the protagonist, a thief, for ending up with a genie and winning the love of the princess. Turns out that princess, or prince in this case, was not all that. Well, they always say to never meet your heroes. But, there was one thing that was bound to be great, no matter how much this story would change. The magic lamp that held the genie. You wanted it. Maybe if you stuck around this vizier long enough, you could take it for yourself whenever the opportunity presented itself. You had the advantage, you knew exactly what was going to happen. That genie could grant any of your wishes! It could take you home if you wanted. You could make all those judges rue the day they banished you! You could rule this world and yours! You could bathe in an endless amount of gold and cash! The possibilities were endless! 

As you finished your meal, another figure came into view. The figure of a guard, like the ones you’ve been watching patrol and march around, approached you nervously. Only when he noticed you glance at him and nod your head, did he begin speaking, “G-Good evening, vassal. The candidates, they’re ready for the vizier, he’ll be here any moment. You are the only one he trusts, everyone knows this, won’t you put in a kind word for me? I fear he’s in a foul mood, his venture to the cave in the desert didn’t end well again.” 

Candidates? Vizier? Cave in the desert? After a few seconds of the guard waiting in anticipation, you were able to connect the dots. This must’ve been a specific rendition of the story where the vizier found the Cave of Wonders in the desert but instead of using a magic machine he created to find the diamond in the rough that could enter the cave, he used his power behind the scenes and in the dark to search through prisoners and criminals and send those he thought might be worthy to die trying to enter the mystic cave. This vizier, Jamil, would no doubt be growing frustrated since he’s likely been keeping at this for so long without finding a single person that can successfully enter the cave. Jumping off your seat on the fountain after finishing your last bite of food, you looked over to the guard and smiled, “Alright, let’s go. We can’t leave the master waiting, can we?”

“Of course! Allow me to lead the way.” So you followed the meek little guard, and as you trailed after him you thought about what would happen and what would you do. The guard had said that it was a fact that the vizier trusted only you, or rather, the person who you’ve replaced. The prince didn’t notice you were not the vassal, and neither did this guard or any of the other servants, so it was likely that no one would notice unless you slipped up, not even the Vizier Jamil. Hopefully. 

You watched as the pristine halls of the palace became dark and dim the deeper you went. As the smooth walls became rugged stone lit only by lamps of fire, and the lush green plants and overpriced furniture and decorations became absent. There were also, noticeably, less people. It felt like you and the guard were the only ones as you followed them deeper into what you guessed was a dungeon where you heard chains rattling and the echoing screams of those held captive. Before you could enter the room, the guard turned to you and pleaded, 

“Please, stay here. I’m sure seeing you will give the vizier a bit of peace. He should be here any second now. I will go ahead and be sure everything is in order.” 

Before you could even protest, the guard scurried ahead to the end of the hall and not too long after, you detected footfall behind you. When you turned around, you saw what you presumed had to be the Vizier Jamil. The vizier looked sort of imposing as he appeared from the dimly lit halls, and with the flames on the wall you could just make out his appearance. A thin figure clothed in red and black robes decorated with gold, holding a golden staff that ended in the shape of a cobra’s head. Long thin hair as black as night coiled down his brown shoulders like snakes in multiple small braids and loose strands decorated with gold, and instantly his sharp gray eyes painted with eyeshadow darted over to you upon noticing your staring. He looked irked, but since you supposedly had a good relationship with him, maybe you could poke and prod without worrying about suffering any consequences. From what you recalled, the vizier’s parrot in the tales was a loud-mouthed creature with a bad temper. 

“Welcome back, oh great vizier. So, how did it go?” 

“Not a word.” The vizier hissed, sending you a glare. Yet it wasn’t threatening, it felt more… annoyed. Like when your friend was pestering you, except without the light-heartedness. At least he didn’t snap, he did have the power to command you to be put to death. Yet all he did was give you a look before his frown instantly morphed into a stoic expression in the blink of an eye, so fast that it sent you reeling.

Jamil wasted no time in walking forward, not bothering with greetings as he entered the first room of the dungeon that was dingy and dirty. Inside was the guard from before, nervously standing off to the side just across from a line of prisoners in shackles with their heads hanging low, and more guards behind them. These prisoners reminded you of yourself, but less. Now you’re free of any shackles, you’re wearing fine clothes and eating food made by the best chefs while living in the luxurious palace. To avoid being at the center of attention, you stood off to the side, leaning against a corner. Listening in could give more insight.

You watched intently, curiously, as Jamil approached the line of prisoners, scanning them all with those sharp eyes as he walked by them slowly. The men and women in rags and chains tensed when he stepped near, but kept their eyes glued to the ground. Whether it was out of respect or fear, you weren’t sure, but you watched as some of them squirmed in place or nervously glanced at him. After a minute of going down the line of a dozen or so prisoners, he stopped in his tracks and turned to face the guard who guided you. On his face was obvious disappointment. 

“You bring me the rough, but never a diamond.” That cold stare of his remained on the anxious guard, never looking away even as he commanded the others, “Take them away.” 

You purse your lips and shake your head, watching as the other guards forcefully dragged the prisoners down another hall, to a fate unknown. Poor suckers. You could hear them pleading, begging the vizier for mercy from whatever end they knew awaited them. In one rendition of the story, when the princess snuck out of the palace and gave apples to poor children, apples she had no money on her to pay for, she nearly lost her hand as punishment. It was likely that these prisoners were about to lose much more than a single hand.

The meek guard sent you a pleading look as they whispered frantically, “You said you would put in a kind word for me…!” 

Turning your attention to them, you scoffed, “I never said that. I said I would follow you.” 

“You…!” At your shrug, he directed his sights towards the vizier who was walking away, his back toward him as he seemed to be prepared to follow the guards and prisoners going elsewhere within the dungeon. “Please, my vizier.” The vizier stopped, and the words were caught in the guard’s throat until he finally forced them out with wavering uncertainty, making it sound more like a question than a statement. “... Perhaps this diamond in the rough does not exist…?” 

For a moment he paused but didn’t turn around, and quietly replied, “They’re out there.” A response with unwavering certainty. 

“But we’ve searched for months!” It appears that the guard was showing signs of frustration as well. Who knows how many prisoners they’ve interrogated and how many criminals they’ve captured in these months, all in an attempt to satisfy the vizier’s wish of finding a diamond in the rough. “I do not understand what could possibly be in that cave that could help a… a man as great as you. You are already second only to the sultan!”

“Second? Uh-oh.” You exclaimed, bracing yourself for what was to come and ignoring the guard’s growing irritation towards you. In the tale, yes the vizier worked for the sultan, he was the sultan’s most trusted advisor. But, behind the vizier’s facade of charm and loyalty, there was only a burning hate for the sultan who believed in him. The vizier wished to be the most powerful man in the kingdom, second to no one. So to be told he was second, straight to his face, would be like a slap. You watched as Jamil turned to the guard with a deep frown, and you could only whistle, “Who’s in trouble now~?” 

Jamil turned to face him fully, staring at the guard beneath him with such a disdainful gaze before questioning firmly, “Do you believe second is enough?”

Without hesitation, they nodded, the answer to them was obvious. “Yes. You were not born to be sultan, you are not of royal lineage. His Majesty, Kalim Al-Asim, was born to be sultan.” 

Kalim Al-Asim. So that was the sultan’s name. The mere mention of him was enough to tick off the vizier. He narrowed his eyes and began to speak in a quiet murmur, “Do you know that I’ve served him my entire life? From the day I was born, they dictated that I was a servant to him and they chained my entire existence so it depended on him.” Slowly he stepped forward, inching closer with every word he spat like venom. “You have no idea of the things I’ve been forced to do for him. The sacrifices I’ve made and blood that’s stained my hands, the bodies I’ve buried and times I’ve watched him be praised for his minimal efforts I can easily best.” The closer he got, the more frightened the guard appeared until he was right in front of them. “Everyone will one day learn that I am not worthy of a mere second place, I am supposed to be first. That’s why I need the lamp, and I no longer need you––!” 

Right before your eyes, you watched as Jamil swiftly struck him with the bottom of his staff and he fell backwards into a well. A seemingly bottomless well, because you heard his scream growing distant until an unsettling silence lingered. You covered your mouth in shock, but Jamil paid you no mind. It’s as if he’s done a dozen times before, as if you had witnessed all of them before. 

After a moment, he sighed and lowered his staff, regaining his composure to cover up for the anger that slipped through in that moment. Again, in a flash, he had a stoic expression as he turned to gaze at you in the corner, when he beckoned you closer with a motion of his finger. “Come here, my vassal. It’s time for a meeting with that irritating sultan.” 

Now you were on your way to meet the sultan. Kalim. You hoped he wasn’t anything like Jamil. This vizier was to be feared, but at least he didn’t seem to mind you. So you probably won’t be pushed down a well anytime soon. As you followed him when he began walking, he questioned abruptly, 

“What did you do while I was gone?” 

This wasn’t good. You weren’t here for that long before he returned, and you got the feeling that Jamil was a particularly observant fellow judging by how he glanced at you from the corner of his eyes. “That royal brat confronted me while I was eating. They’re so annoying.” 

“Ah, Prince Jaseer?” Slowly he nodded, as if agreeing with your words. Phew. You were doing alright, fitting the role just fine it seemed. “Annoying would be putting it lightly. He’s just another entitled royal born with a golden spoon in his mouth, an ignorant person who knows nothing of how the real world works.” 

“You’re telling me. The guy made me bow and recite a greeting like I was nothing but a pleb beneath him! Then he had the gall to say I was lazy! I was eating! Can’t a person like me eat in peace once in a while? I was starving!” 

By now you were in a better part of the palace, where you were once again surrounded by riches. Upon hearing your response, Jamil replied without hesitation, “You are lazy when I’m not around.” At his remark, you stared at him incredulously as he continued with zero reservations, “You are uncaring, murderous, deceitful, aggressive, cunning, and annoying.” 

Unable to help it, you snapped back in reply, beginning to rant and list off your fingers. “ME? Look in the mirror bud, you just basically described yourself! You’re cruel, immoral, narcissistic, power-hungry, sadistic, and secretly deranged! You're a two-faced, snake!” When you looked over to him, he still had that stoic expression but he rolled his eyes. Your jaw dropped. There was no way he just fucking–– 

“You used that insult, two-faced snake, two weeks ago.” Before you could add anything more to the growing pile of insults, he lightly tapped your forehead with the cobra head of his golden staff, appearing unbothered. “Come up with something else or get on my level, then you can talk back. For now, be quiet. We’re nearing where Kalim wanted to meet us. I don’t need to remind you to be on your best behavior around the sultan.” 

Rubbing your forehead, you glared at him and mumbled, “Oh, I’ll come up with something shocking, you sorry sack of––ACK!” You coughed, bending over in pain as he quickly jabbed the end of his staff against your stomach to shut you up just before a silk curtain separating the halls from a room opened up. 

“Jamil! Oh, and your vassal too! I’m so happy to see you guys! You’re just the ones I wanted to see!” 

You had to squint just to look past the stranger’s bright beaming smile. It was a young man, just a bit shorter than Jamil, yet he was dressed in finer garbs than the vizier. The bright pearly-white smile matched some of his odd white strands of hair that poked out past the silk cloth messily tied around his head, the turban he must’ve usually wore to show his high status was off to the side beside a model of the entire city. The energy in his red eyes was just as bright as his smile, but even brighter than that was the gleaming golden accessories glittering over his tawny brown complexion. Golden rings and jewels over his fingers, gold buttons stitched onto his silk clothes, even the tiniest patterns on those silk garbs looked shiny enough to be real gold. So much gold–– 

Jamil wore a charming devilish smile, but once this Kalim looked away for a second, he quickly slapped your hand as soon as you lifted it, sending you a warning glare, as if saying, do not touch. You glared right back, but as soon as Kalim returned his attention to the two of you again, he pleaded, “I could really use your help, Jamil! You’re the person I can trust the most!” 

“You have always placed your trust in me, and I’ve never failed to deliver.” He replied smoothly with a bow of his head. Damn, he was really good at lying. It was a teensy bit concerning. 

“It’s all this suitor thing with Jaseem!” Kalim exclaimed, beginning to lay down his worries, “You know I promised I would take care of my cousin before his parents passed, I promised them to help him find a wife when he got older. And now, well, he’s older! I don’t remember it being nearly this hard when I had to marry.” 

The vizier followed Kalim as he continued to rant and bemoan, stepping beside him as they stopped in front of various shelves of scrolls and books and tables of documents and knick-knacks. Meanwhile, you followed closely behind, reminding yourself not to input anything or risk gaining suspicion. Once Kalim was finished, only then did Jamil respond casually, “To be fair, your marriage didn’t last long due to… unfortunate circumstances. I’m afraid Prince Jaseer is different. He’s already met ten times the suitresses you ever did. Your standards are nowhere near as high as the prince’s.” 

“Pfft…” You slapped your hand over your mouth, going quiet as both Jamil and Kalim looked over at you. Fuck, you were in trouble now, weren’t you? 

Kalim blinked before joining in on the shameless laughter, lifting the mood substantially. “You’re right, I never had this problem. It honestly didn’t take a lot to impress me! Oh, have you eaten today? You should totally try these cheese and sauces on crackers! They’re my favorite snack right now! Here!” 

You held up your hands in defense, “Wait, a minute. Actually, maybe–– mmph!” You nearly choked as he abruptly stuffed a handful of the crunchy saltines in your mouth, and he placed his other hand to pat your back so you couldn’t step away. 

The sultan grinned as you were forced to swallow the food. That’s when he held up more, and urged, “It’s good, isn’t it? You should try more! Hey, you can even have dinner with me if you want! The more the merrier, right?” Before you could even input anything, Kalim shouted loud enough so the servants outside could hear him, “Keep the snacks coming! And make sure to have an extra seat for later! I’d like to eat dinner on the balcony tonight with Jamil’s vassal! Make sure to serve the best, most delicious dishes we have to offer!” 

“Hah, you have such a kindness that extends to everyone, don’t you, Kalim? Even to the dense little attendants.” 

You shot the vizier a glare at his not-so-subtle jab directed towards you. The only reason you didn’t say anything to his face was because you still had a mouthful of crackers that you could barely swallow without gagging. 

Clearing his throat, his soft laughter stopped as he resumed his professional attitude and he was back to business. “Now then, allow me to divine a solution to this pesky problem. As well as take care of… the work you often leave in my care. As per usual.” When you glanced at him, the moment Kalim spun on his heel to catch up with the slowly moving vizier is when you noticed the dark haired man’s annoyance that flashed for a second. “However, I will be needing access to the restricted area of the library, to look at the ancient texts of laws and such. You understand, don’t you?” 

“The restricted section? The one reserved only for me and other members of the royal family?” The young man tilted his head, appearing a bit apprehensive as he tapped his finger against his chin in thought. “I dunno, Jamil. Normally I’d let you, but I think that’s against the rules. There’s a lot of secrets hidden there.” 

“It’s necessary for us to continue.” Lifting his golden staff, he nonchalantly examined its enchanting ruby red eyes before his fingers slid across the smooth golden surface and he turned it so the cobra head was gazing right at the sultan. A slight sly smile grew on his face as he hummed, “Don’t worry, everything will be fine.” 

You watched with intrigued, both fascinated and horrified as he pressed the end of his staff against the ground and leaned the cobra head forwards, causing the sultan to stiffen up and go oddly silent. That’s when you realized it was happening. Jamil was using his powers to hypnotize and manipulate the sultan, just like in the stories. 

The sultan’s own red eyes mirrored the rubies of the staff, but quickly his smile dropped into a blank expression as held a staring contest with the cobra head. As if in a trance, he quietly repeated the words spoken to him. “––Everything will be fine…” 

That smile on his face grew to a smirk as the vizier repeated his request, “Permission to use the restricted area of the library?” 

“Yes, Jamil…” Kalim remained unblinking. His once bright eyes full of life were now… empty. It’s like they were covered with a mist. Slowly, robotically, he held up a blue diamond ring and spoke, “The key… Whatever you need will be fine.” 

Instantly he snatched it up, tucking the ring away safely within his robes as he thanked, “You are most gracious, my liege. Now, run along and have fun, enjoy your dinner. Hm?” 

“Yes…” 

With a swish of his cloak, Jamil began to walk away and you trailed behind him as Kalim stayed in the room, mindlessly gazing out the window. As soon as you were past the curtains and saw no one else present, Jamil’s professionalism dropped and he rolled his eyes, wearing an annoyed frown. You spat out the crackers you couldn’t swallow, it left crumbs in your mouth and salt that burned the roof of your mouth but at least now you were able to speak your mind a little more freely. “I can’t take it! If he tried to stuff one more cracker in my face, I’m was gonna––!” 

“Calm yourself, my vassal.” Jamil replied, his expression less refined and now just a resting bitch face. Turning to you, he stopped and instructed, “I will go scour that private area of the library to see what secrets it may hide. The key to our troubles may very well be hidden among those carefully guarded secrets. You will stay here.”

You gawked. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” Pressing a pointed finger against your shoulder, he continued his instructions, “Keep that halfwitted idiot busy, stay for dinner as he wants. Have a little tea party with him if it amuses him. Afterwards, I expect to see you back within my tower. I’d prefer you not stay around Kalim for longer than necessary, especially because his ignorance may rub off on you. Or has it already?” 

“Haha, yeah, sure, laugh it up. Very funny.” You scowled at his grin, watching as he turned to leave. “Have fun doing that lame boring reading! I’m gonna enjoy this time off eating until I can’t take another bite!” Once he was out of sight, you spat, “Jerk.” And promptly returned back inside beside the sultan. 

When you found him, he was still gazing out the window with those empty eyes. The hypnotic technique continued to last for a few seconds even after Jamil took his leave. However, thankfully, after waving your hand in front of his face and lightly slapping his cheeks, he was beginning to regain consciousness. “Hey, you! Kalim–– er… sultan, wake up.” 

Kalim blinked repetitively, the hazy mist in his gaze disappearing until his eyes were bright and red like polished rubies once again. As if awaking from a deep sleep, he groaned and pressed his cheek against your hand, not fully realizing what was happening until he blinked again and looked up at you. “What…? What happened? Ah, I’m sorry, I zoned out again…!” Despite realizing how close you two were, he made no effort to move. Was he that trusting or that stupid? “Where’s Jamil?” 

“He’s busy. Had to go back to work, uh… sultan.” You were a little upset that he’d leave you with this odd little ruler, but you couldn’t complain too much when you’d get to have your fill of food. 

“Ooooh, okay then! And please, you can just call me Kalim! Any friend of Jamil’s is a friend of mine.” He hummed, taking your hands as soon as you stepped away and lowered them away from his face. “I’m so happy to finally get to spend time with you! Jamil is always so hardworking and you are too! I mean, you’re always helping him, and he seems to trust you a lot and that’s saying something because he hardly trusts anyone! So I’ve never gotten to really talk this much to you until now! This is a little exciting, isn’t it? Come on!” Without warning, he began to tug you along, apparently forgetting the exchange from earlier. So he really didn’t remember that he had been hypnotized. As he dragged you along outside of the rooms and down the pristine extensive hallways, he continued, “I wanna know all about you! Our dinner should be ready by now! And what better way to get to know someone than over dinner? What kind of food do you like? What’s your favorite drink? Oh! And we can’t forget dessert!” 

Suddenly you were out on the balcony where you first gained consciousness, it was still dark out. It all happened so quickly, in a flash you were seated on a long plush chaise lounge draped with numerous pillows and blankets. In a rush, the servants came out, setting out tables and trays filled to the brim with food until you were surrounded by mounds of food that all smelled so delectable. Before you could even think of something to say, Kalim was already piling food on your plate, making it so high that it resembled a small mountain. 

“Eat as much as you want! Oh, try this! And this too! And you gotta have a little of this! Dinner is one of my favorite times of the day, because you get to relax with someone, whether it be family, a friend, or a complete stranger, and talk about anything!” 

There was so much on your plate that you almost struggled to peek over it just to see the face of the sultan. Yeah you wanted food, but this was too much even for you… As the young man explained what dish was what, you glanced behind your shoulder at the servants transporting trays and pitchers. Your eyes narrowed, but you pretended to pay attention to the sultan by nodding at whatever he said, as you watched out of the corner of your eye. One servant carrying another silver tray, leaned forward to place it on the table, while his other arm was folded at his midsection. His body had been covering your view of the pitcher, but once he stepped back and began to walk away, you noticed the liquid fizzing for a moment and became an odd color before the solution dissolved to blend in with the beverage. That substance he slipped into the drink… was he trying to poison the sultan?

Your eyes followed the servant as he turned on his heel and began to retreat towards the kitchen. Narrowing your gaze, you interrupted Kalim while he was going on about some story of him having dinner with other royals, when you blurted out, “Hey, you.” 

It went quiet, the sultan appeared confused and leaning over to get a better look at what you were glaring at while all the servants froze in their tracks. 

“Yeah, you with the stupid face and red sash. I’m talking to you. What the hell were you slipping in that drink? You sure have guts to be doing that in front of me. Either that or you're brain-dead.” 

Everyone tensed up at your implication, the guards nearby honing in on the servant with the red sash around their waist. Immediately they had them restrained, one of the head guards ripped off his sash to remove a suspicious vial with some liquid still left in it. Despite the servant’s panicked squirming in the hold of the soldiers, the head guard turned towards the sultan, holding up the vial and nodding in affirmation, “Your Majesty, it is poison…” 

“Again?” Kalim sighed somberly, slowly gripping onto your sleeve. 

Again? What the hell did he mean by again? How many times did this usually happen? As if on cue, the remaining servants rushed in to remove all the food that had been brought. Now, they would have to double check everything to make sure nothing else was poisoned. Without even being told, the armored men escorted away the frightened servant that had failed to harm the sultan. Instantly the area was cleared, save for extra guards further away but still close enough to watch. 

After a few seconds, the realization of something appeared to dawn on the sultan’s face as he gripped your sleeve tighter and peered up at you with wide sparkling red eyes. “You… You saved me! I knew it! You are trustworthy! Wait, what am I talking about? Of course you’re trustworthy, Jamil trusts you, but this just confirms it! I might’ve been poisoned if you hadn’t said anything! You are a good person, just like I thought! You see, I’m a great judge of character so I knew that you were good from the moment I met you!” 

You resisted the urge to laugh at his choice of words about you being a good person. At first you thought of letting it happen, but if the sultan were to die now, that would rush things along. Prince Jaseer would inherit the throne if he gets married quick enough, and then he would definitely get rid of you and Jamil. Then, you’d be poor and powerless on the streets, or worse, dead. So what did you do? Call out the servant, duh. “It’s nothing, really.” 

Shaking his head in refusal, he continued to insist, “But it is something! Don’t be so modest. Everyone should know of what you did for me tonight! The whole kingdom deserves to know! You deserve a reward! If you need anything, just say it, and it's yours! Anything at all!” 

You couldn’t help but scoff, rolling your eyes as a semi-amused smile appeared on your face, “Don’t say that, I’m going to make you regret it.” You’d definitely rob him blind if you could. He would be such an easy target too, like stealing candy from a baby, if he wasn’t always being watched by a troop of guards twenty-four-seven. 

For a moment he was quiet, his red eyes analyzing your smile with surprise before he broke out into the brightest beaming expression that nearly made you shriek from being blinded. “But I mean it! I really do!” As his hands gripped your arm a little tighter, he noticed your colorful shawl. Curious, he began to trace his fingers across the woven shapes, entranced by the colors as he murmured in awe, “Woah, I really like your shawl. The feathers are pretty, and I love the colors! I think I might want something styled like that.” 

He was actually… strangely casual for a guy that was nearly poisoned. Then again, maybe it was a common thing for him. He was the most powerful man in the entire kingdom. “You like it that much?” You watched as he quickly nodded, to which you plucked one of the five long red feathers beside the clip of the shawl. Its red faded into blue, with one edge even tinted with the tiniest bit of yellow and green. “It’s the only thing keeping me from freezing right now, so I can only give you this. That way you can show it to your tailors or stylists or whatever you rich people have, and they know what you want.” It was totally not to distract him and get the sultan off your back so he’d let go of your arm. 

Kalim’s eyes widened as he swiftly reached out and gingerly took the feather in his hands. Those eyes of his looked at the feather with wonder, as if it was worth more than rubies or gold. Turning his wonder-filled expression up at you, he looked so joyful as he leaned forward and spoke, “Thank you…! I love it!” Then, his expression flattened a bit to a more solemn look as he glanced down at the feather he held tightly and back to you. His voice got even quieter so as to not be heard by anyone that may be in the halls nearby. “Since I trust you… can I tell you a secret…?” 

You deadpanned, turning your attention away to the scenery. “No.” 

“Whew, okay, here it goes…” Focusing on the feather, he quickly forced out, “I’ve never gotten a gift like this before…! There. I said it!” 

In that moment you stopped to squint at him, not believing a word he said. “Wait a second, you’re kidding, right? I mean, you’re sultan. You live in a giant palace, you have countless servants and soldiers, your kingdom is one of the most powerful and prosperous! Don’t lie to me, I bet you have people lining up to give you gifts everyday! Gifts of gold, jewels, all that fancy expensive stuff!” 

“I’m not lying! All of that is true, but… this gift is special!” Kalim immediately replied, only gripping the feather tighter as he explained, “I think gifts given on the spot, out of the goodwill of your heart, are way more valuable. Yeah, I get a lot of gifts, and I’m thankful! But it’s not the same! I will treasure this feather because it’s from you, and your kindness!” Eventually his gaze traveled down to your shawl, he was shivering a bit from the cold desert winds. Looking back up at you, then your shawl, then you again, it’s as if he was trying to convey something. “I-It’s getting a little cold, aha… Can I…?” 

Frowning, you flopped back onto the soft cushions, your fingers gripping the very edges of the shawl. “This is the one thing that’s mine. No, you can’t have it.” 

“Haha, I wasn’t asking for it! Don’t worry, I’ll definitely be asking my tailors to make me one like yours so we can match! I meant I wanted to share it with you right now!” With zero hesitation, he flopped down beside you. He was close, so incredibly close, enough that you could feel his body warmth and he could probably feel yours. It did not help that when you tried to inch away, he took the initiative to snuggle closer, draping the ends of your shawl around himself as he continued to hold the feather you gifted him. 

When he was right up against you and gazed up at you with those bright eyes and always happy smile, you scowled and muttered, “What’s with you? You got a problem, princey?” 

Without missing a beat, he responded casually. “I’m not a prince, that would technically be my cousin! I’m a sultan! Although I was a prince before, but not anymore.” 

“That’s not what I–– nevermind.” You tried to ignore him for your own good. You couldn’t exactly get away with hurting the sultan, no matter how much you wanted to take a swing. Well, it wasn’t all bad was it? This meant you were on his good side, right? 

As you glanced back at him, you could feel him beside you. Shoulder-to-shoulder, as he gazed up at the stars, looking up at the endless night sky with twinkling eyes. “This is great! I rarely ever have company like this. I mean, I always have company but like–– company that I can just relax with, you know? Oh, look up there, at those stars––!” 

At this point you weren’t really focused on the sultan or what he was saying. Actually, you were focused on something just past him, past the stone curved ends of the balcony where you could see the rest of the city and part of the palace. That's when you made out a figure, like a small ant against the vast backdrop, running fast. They moved quickly, jumping over obstacles and climbing walls like an acrobat, as if it came natural to them, all while avoiding the lights of torches and staying in the shadows. They were dressed in rags too, like a peasant. Like… a thief. 

“––Anyways, that’s the story behind my favorite constellation! What about yours? Do you have a favorite?” 

“OH MY GOD––” Your eyes widened as the realization struck. The thief, they were the protagonist! The protagonist was making their move!

The sultan appeared startled at your sudden exclamation, but his shock quickly turned to a smile as he laughed, “Did you like the story that much? I like it too! Let me think of another one to tell you about!” 

Immediately pushing him away, you sat up and scrambled to get off the chair, “Welp, this is getting weird. And I have to go report back to Jamil! Damn, you know how it is, with work and all. You get it, don’t you? Yeah, of course you do!” Brushing yourself off, you bolted just as the sultan was sitting up and looking bewildered at your odd reaction. “Okay, I’m gonna go before you can say anything, m’kay, bye!” 

“W-Wait!” 

Nope. Not waiting. You ran, not even sure how to reach the vizier because you had no idea where his main quarters were, so you disguised your lack of knowledge as questions such as looking for his extra robes or even where the vizier himself was currently at, demanding answers along the way from unsuspecting servants until they pointed you in the direction. You had to hurry, you had to point out the thief so Jamil could use him and lure him to the lamp. Once he got the lamp, you’d take over from there, you’d come up with a plan eventually. Just not right now, not when you were rushing to make it back to inform the advisor of the intruder as quickly as possible. You climbed the spiraling staircases to one of the towers where the vizier’s quarters were located. 

As soon as you threw open the doors, you found him looking over a tome. However, as soon as you entered, he turned to look at you, raising an eyebrow as you heaved for a breath while you slammed the door shut behind you and leaned your weight against the wooden surface. You exclaimed breathlessly, “Thief!! Thief in the palace!” 

“Thief in the palace?” Jamil parroted, looking even more perplexed as he narrowed his eyes at you and you pointed to his open balcony that overlooked part of the city and part of the palace. 

Stumbling over to the balcony, you leaned your weight on the stone edges, letting the cool desert air fan your face. Quietly you mumbled, “That’s what I said. Catch up, or are you deaf?” When Jamil joined you at the balcony, he stood straight and tall as his dark eyes gazed out into the night. 

There, shrouded in the shadows, was the thief moving nimbly on rooftops and wooden pergolas covered in vines. They moved so quietly and effortlessly, going unnoticed even by the armored guards on patrol just below them. Finally, they disappeared into a hall, where there would only be servants cleaning and handling chores to keep the palace pristine. For once he finally appeared pleased, content, as he glanced at you and instructed, “Have the guards extend an invitation to our intruding guest. I will be escorting them to the cave. And you, my vassal?” 

You? As much as you wanted to go, it wasn’t like you could go into the cave yourself. You also couldn’t reveal that you knew that this thief was the diamond in the rough that the vizier had spent months searching for. No matter how much you wanted that lamp now, you couldn’t risk changing the plot. It was probably better to stay here until the thief would come back with the lamp, genie, with riches and a new name. While they would be busy with wooing the prince, that would be your opportunity to strike. “I’ll stay, keep Prince Jaseer and Kalim off your back if they come asking.” When you noticed Jamil’s attention still on you, you clarified smoothly, “I don’t wanna watch another failure with the cave going up in smoke.” 

“Quit being so pessimistic. This is the one.” He scolded, immediately turning to walk away. However, not before leaving another command to follow. “Go, make yourself useful and inform the guards immediately. I’ll be preparing to leave with the thief.” 

Rolling your eyes, you stood up and prepared yourself to rush down the steps and inform the guards. At the very least, you could get some well-earned rest once he left. “As you wish, your rottenness.”  ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

“(Y/n)?” 

Your peaceful slumber in the vizier’s quarters was disturbed. On the lounge on the balcony you lay, eyes groggily blinking open only to be met with a familiar face leaning over you. You blinked again for extra measure, your mind processing who you were seeing. 

“Good morning!” Kalim smiled, his head just over yours. Out of instinct you jolted upright, accidentally hitting your forehead against his. “Ow! Ah–– you’re finally awake!” The young man cheered, ignoring the pain on his forehead as you hissed and rubbed your own head where it now hurt from the brunt of the impact. 

Glaring at the sultan for waking you up from a pleasant sleep, you squinted at his bright expression while rubbing your eyes and the now sore spot on your skull. “What the hell are you doing here? How did you even find me? How did you get in here? I locked the door before I fell asleep!” 

“Oh, that? Well, when everyone found out I was looking for you, they told me that you were asleep in Jamil’s tower. Obviously I knew where that was, but when I came to find you, the door was locked! I know, I know, Jamil really likes his privacy, but I just wanted to see you and you wouldn’t open the door! So, I just had the guards use the backup key to open the door and I’ve been waiting here ever since!” 

You sat up, taking a moment to process everything. If you weren’t already squinting because of your vision not yet adjusted to the brightness of the sun from the open balcony and grogginess from your own sleep, you would’ve been squinting even more to look at his smiling face incredulously. Rubbing your tired face, you sighed, “Let me get this straight. You couldn’t wait, so you had your people basically break into the vizier’s room and for what? Just to say good morning? How long were you waiting for me to wake up? Don’t tell me you were watching me sleep.” You scoffed somewhat sarcastically.

“I wasn’t watching you! Well… kinda. I just wanted to make sure you were okay! I do owe you.” You were kidding about that last part, so his response genuinely surprised you. Before you could even think up something to say, he stopped leaning over the long lounge chair you were on and stood up to show off a new article of clothing. A colorful woven shawl, similar to yours. “Look! Isn’t it great? They finished it while I was sleeping, and now we match! The tailors sprayed it with perfume too so it even smells like jasmine!” 

Frowning as you watched him happily twirl and show off the shawl, the feather you gave him stuck to his headband, you muttered, “All I smell is bullsh––” 

“Shhhh!” Appearing incredibly content with his new shawl, he continued to chatter on happily. “I love it so much! Tell me, is this the latest fashion trend in the city? It’s been a while since I’ve gone out.” 

You replied gruffly, “I dunno, why don’t you stick your head out the window and check? I’m not your tailor. Why don’t you ask them? Or even ask to go out or something.” 

At your words, his smile faltered the tiniest bit. It turned somewhat sad, but he continued to force that cheery expression as he averted his gaze downward albeit awkwardly. “I’d love to go out! But… I’m not really allowed. I’m sultan, remember? I’m only allowed to go out during special occasions, and I’ve never been allowed to just be with everyone else past the gates. My dad used to say it was dangerous, and even now the council says it’s not a good idea.” 

Wait a moment… This could work well to your advantage. There was plenty of time before Jamil returned. It would serve as a good excuse to gain your bearing and at least a bit of knowledge on the environment past the high palace walls. Plus, you would get points with the sultan if you made him happy. Besides, being on Kalim’s good side, as annoying as he was, could work out in the end. Especially if things start to go south. It didn’t hurt to be trusted by both the first and second most powerful people in the entire kingdom. Damn you were a genius. You smiled somewhat slyly. “Who says you gotta ask?” 

“H-Huh?” For once Kalim was caught off guard as you hopped up from your spot on the lounge. Once you got up, so did he. He followed you as you stepped over to open a cabinet of clothing. “You mean, go without asking? You really mean it?” 

Kalim was sultan, he’d obviously be recognized without a disguise. But if you just covered his white hair and lower face and switched his riches to common rags, he’d be fine. Probably. Hopefully. Picking up a few handkerchiefs and scarves he could use, you pretended to reconsider, “I dunno… We’d have to sneak out and break the rules–– just kidding, let’s sneak out!” Holding up some cloaks and fabrics he could use as a hood to cover his signature white hair and to mask his lower face, your smile grew as you persuaded him further, “Come on, let’s just go for a midday stroll and snack. We’ll just let everyone think you’re spending time in the vizier’s chambers waiting for him to return or something. Just follow me, out the window, ‘round the garden, I’ll carry you over, and we’re gone.”

Those red eyes of his turned to the open balcony and view of the city on this hot summer’s day. He stood still, as if contemplating it. But it didn’t take much convincing, or that long to ponder over his decision, because like in a snap, he broke out into a grin and eagerly bobbed his head up and down. That’s when you knew you had him in the palm of your hand. 

It took a bit of tip-toeing around, but eventually you managed to get Kalim past the gates with little to no trouble. You had a few coins you snatched from Jamil’s chambers safely secured within a pocket on the inside of your shawl, along with a few knives you tucked away in various parts of your outfit but those were mostly for a last resort. You didn’t plan to go too far because you didn’t know the layout of the city well, and plus you knew there was always the chance of thieves and pickpockets skulking about. The good thing was, that thief protagonist wouldn’t be here, they’d still be in the desert and the Cave of Wonders. All you were here for was a snack and to make the sultan happy, and happy sounded like an understatement. 

The young man was practically glowing, vibrating with energy as he danced on his heels. Kalim fit in surprisingly well. Since he wasn’t tall, he didn’t stand out that much in the busy crowd. Not to mention the lack of silks and fancy garbs helped. It was a good idea you gave him that average quality material to wear. On his body he wore a casual old white tunic turned beige with age and loose-fitted orange pants, with that rainbow shawl he commissioned recently and a dark orange hood with a black cloth around his lower face to top it off. The only thing you could really see if you got close to his face, were those big red eyes just sparkling with life. 

“Stop staring at me with those big old eyes.” 

Immediately he closed his eyes. Although the black fabric concealed the lower portion of his face, you could just tell he was wearing some stupid grin by the slight crinkle appearing on the bridge of his nose and the mirth dancing in his tone. “Sorry, sorry! This is all just so exciting! What are we going to do now? Everything smells so good! Oh, what’s all that––” 

When the sultan seemed set on some shady foreign merchants selling a variety of unlabeled goods, you grabbed the back of his collar, preventing him from dashing across the busy streets and being run over by carts hauling goods or being scammed for all the cash he had, or worse. “Hold on. When was the last time you actually went out? Like, as a normal person.” 

“Oh, the last time was… the beginning of never, actually. This is my first time!” The sultan beamed. 

Kalim was a merchant’s dream, like a sitting duck susceptible to astronomical prices and greedy exchanges. But more like a golden goose instead of a sitting duck. For now, the plan was to safeguard him. He already owed you for saving his life when calling out that assassin with the poison, but there had to be a definite connection. The sultan would be your plan B, should all else fail when attempting to acquire the lamp with the vizier Jamil. If Jamil were to go down, you would betray him in a heartbeat, and turn to Kalim. However, in order for Kalim to truly believe you, the trust had to be as solid as the gold that filled his palace. 

“Of course it is. I should’ve guessed.” Resisting the urge to just drop him off at the gates and enjoy your freedom, you opted that the safest options would just be the food stalls and he would be entertained by all the happenings in the market.

And you had been right, but what you didn’t take into account was how talkative he might be. Even as he happily munched away on street food sold at various stalls and carts. “You know, it makes me sad that I can’t go out like this. This is the first time I can stand in the middle of the city, without people crowding and staring. People just walk past me as if I’m nothing–– do you know how crazy that is?” 

He was sultan, and a prince before that, so he must’ve been accustomed to everyone bowing to him as he passed. All eyes would be on him, but here? Not a single person gave a passing glance. 

Taking a bite of the skewed spiced meat and grilled vegetables you bought for yourself, you shrugged at his words before finally adding in your own two cents. “If you take away your title, you’re just a guy.” 

“Just a guy…” He murmured quietly, like he never really considered the fact that without his name and his family’s wealth, he was practically a nobody. Taking a slow and concentrated bite of his own skewer, he allowed the taste to settle before looking down at it with a sense of wonder. “This is delicious! I’ve never had the privilege of just eating food without a taste tester. I might have to bring the man who made this back to the palace with me.” 

“Don’t blow your own cover.” 

“I won’t, I won’t! It’s just…” Kalim appeared to look down thoughtfully, taking another bite. As a sultan, he was probably so pampered and protected that he never once tasted street food or walked on a dirt road before. “Today, you’ve done something truly special for me, my friend. You gave me something worth more than gold or gems, you gave me a once in a lifetime experience! These days it’s hard to trust anyone around me.” 

Pausing mid bite, you raised an eyebrow and listened attentively. Possible intel? This could be useful, good information to store in the back of your mind for a later time to utilize when it was most advantageous. 

“All the servants are loyal for the most part, but that’s because there’s rules and payment involved. Sometimes, there’s one or two among them that have tried to harm me and my family.” He continued softly, almost seriously. This wasn’t like his usual cheery demeanor and loud tone. Right now his gaze was eerily calm and he spoke quietly, just loud enough so you could hear as you stood beside him. “For a while, I was okay with it. That’s how I grew up, it was my normal. But then I got older, my parents passed on, I got married for a little while but that didn’t last. Even some of my siblings, who I thought I could trust, turned against me just to get to the throne. It seems like everyone I love is either taken away from me or turns against me.” 

In that moment, he turned to face you, gazing at you with those big red eyes.  

Softly, he pleaded, “Promise me you won’t be like that? Taken away from me or turned against me–– I don’t think I could bear it. I can’t believe I never spoke to you properly sooner than I did! We could’ve been best friends by now!” His soft hands clutched yours, as he still awkwardly held the skewer between his thumb and pointer finger. 

You began freaking out a bit when his hands moved up to your face, squishing your cheeks between his palms as he brought your face closer to his 

“I mean, you make me so happy I could just kiss you! It wouldn’t be hard.” 

There was no way you just accidentally snagged a sultan. How? You of all people! With the rotten personality and a heart so shriveled and three sizes too small that it could rival the Grinch’s own beating core. Oh this made things too easy. Kalim was now the ace hidden up your sleeve. If worse came to worse and the original plan had to be abandoned, well, certainly playing the role of the sultan’s favorite little lover wasn’t too bad. At least until you could obtain the lamp. 

Certainly while the sultan was oblivious, he wasn’t dumb. However, he was most likely no expert when it came to love, as it appeared he wasn’t the most skilled at basic interactions from his cushy palace life. It couldn’t be that hard to keep him seduced, could it? Surely if he miraculously felt attracted to you, it was possible to keep him hooked for a while, until you had the wishes you desired. 

All it took was a single kiss on his forehead, to see those ruby red eyes dazzle so brightly in the sunlight. Although his lower face was concealed by the fabric around his head, he was bound to be grinning ear-to-ear like an idiot. And wrapped around your pinky to have at your disposal. “Happy?” 

Eagerly he nodded, taking a deep breath to hold so he wouldn’t squeal with joy. What a sucker. “So so happy, my dove!” 

“My dove? Huh…” At the little nickname, you sigh and shrug, stopping yourself from rolling your eyes so as to not appear too cold toward his advances and words. “Then let’s go back now before they go looking for you. Oh, look over there, what a beautiful bracelet…” You casually remark, gesturing toward a stand across the road that sold a variety of jewelry. If you had to kiss up to a man, might as well make it all worth it by causing his pockets to hurt. But what was a bit of gold and jewelry to his pockets that ran so deep? 

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

“What is that…?” The vizier demanded, glaring at you. When he returned, he was in a foul mood. It must’ve been because the story was progressing and that thief got trapped in the Cave of Wonders with the lamp, but he said nothing about it other than it’s gone. However, even when he was outraged by his recent failure, he still noticed the golden bands wrapped around your arms. 

Seeing where his gaze was directed, you lifted your arm and showed off the golden bands speckled with white diamonds and decorated with swirls within the metal itself. “Oh, this? You like? The sultan gifted them to me.” You grinned, noticing his frown deepening. Using the opportunity, you flaunted. “I think that chump has taken a liking to me ever since I saved his skin.” 

"So I heard of your heroic deed." If the vizier had laser vision, he’d be searing your bracelet into a puddle of molten metal liquid by how hard he was glaring. “Don’t lose sight of what we’re after. In the end, the lamp can provide enough wealth to put that tiny gaudy thing to shame.” 

At his words dissing the rather expensive and delicately crafted accessory, your eyes widened as you pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Ohhhh, I see… You’re jealous! Ha! You’re mad! Stay mad!” 

A scowl etched his way onto his features as he hissed, “You think I’m jealous…?!” Pausing, he collected himself. Or at least, he tried to. But it was probably difficult to do so with the reminder in the back of his mind that his victory was within his grasp, only to be fumbled. Taking a deep breath, he seethed, “No, I am not jealous. In fact, you’re doing me a favor by distracting that airhead and also that bratty prince in the process. So, continue. I encourage you, but remember who your efforts are for. Now, there has to be another way to find another person worthy to go into that cave…” 

Scoffing, you readjusted the bracelet over your arm. Such a shiny thing that would’ve cost a small fortune back home. “Don’t worry, even though you’re a despicable serpent, you’re still my favorite.” Whether that was true or not, it was best to stay in his good graces. “I heard what happened from the few guards you took with you… it’ll be fine. The lamp is gotta still be there under all that sand.”

Ignoring your words, he still paused when he heard them, but he didn’t acknowledge them in the slightest. In fact, he only gave a command without so much as a glance in your direction. “Go get me my tome from that shelf.” 

Offering a smile without the pretentiousness, you went over to the shelf and picked the heavy tome he required. Almost everyday he seemed to read from this thing. “Okay, master, I’ll get you the dark wizard daily so you can enchant yourself some bitches.”

Bringing his fingers to his head, he rubbed the bridge of his nose as if in annoyance. For a moment you thought he might snap, but instead he only muttered, “I already have one that talks day in and day out, endlessly bothering me to no end. I do not need another one of you.” 

“Haha–– Wait, what?” 

That cold expression didn’t change, until his eyes wandered down to your arm. And as he continued speaking slowly, he grabbed your wrist within his hand. He removed the golden bracelets Kalim had bought for you in the market. Those golden bands were eventually in his hands. At their brilliant shine, he scowled and tossed them aside. On your arms, he placed silver ones. Silver bands that curled around your arms like snakes, to replace the ones the sultan gifted you. 

“What I mean is…” Using his golden staff, he extended it outward, using the cobra head on it like a hook to turn your head towards where he was seated, directing your gaze to his eyes. Those gray eyes were hypnotizing, this was what it must’ve felt like when Kalim was met face-to-face with the cobra head on his vizier’s staff. However, there was no magic being used at the moment. “You’re mine, not Kalim’s. Do you understand?” 

You frown as he switches them, closely examining the shine of your new bracelet. “Gold is shinier than silver…” 

He sighed, irked. “Then I’ll just make sure to take a gem, as big as your greed, from the treasury and have it engraved into one heavy necklace. Now––” Seeing you grin in content at his promise for another shiny treasure, he continued from where he left off. “You are mine. My vassal. Say it back to me. Yours.”

Jamil was dead serious as he spoke, clearly not in the mood for too many jokes or teasing. And for once, you were too stunned for words to blurt out anything. Besides, it wasn’t like you could when he was so close and staring at you so intensely. 

“You… Yours?” You parrot awkwardly, wincing at the way it came out of your mouth. However, the young man still keeping you close with his staff seemed content with your response. 

Those gray eyes remained focused on you. His eyes were thin and sharp, making it look like he wore eyeliner. As cruel and cold as he could be behind that calm and polite facade, there was a mysterious charm to him. It was as enticing as it was dangerous, and yet that was how you liked most things. Curse him for that. 

It’s strange. You thought he would be more enraged about the lamp and the incident at the Cave of Wonders. However, he seemed almost calm as he gazed at you. And without his fancy garbs composed of so many layers that pooled around him, he didn’t look so intimidating. The black sleeveless shirt he wore was loose but intricately decorated, and his pants looked like flowing silk. There wasn’t even that headpiece over his hair, which made him look… normal. If that were even possible. It made you forget the fact that he was a villainous vizier, meant to eventually go mad with power and accidentally curse himself to an eternity of solitude and servitude when he finally wished to become an all-power genie. Maybe if you could steer him down that path, you could have him for yourself as a second wish-granter...

“Mine.” He confirmed, giving you a hard stare as he lowered his staff. With a hand, he guided your fingers to his long dark tresses. Most of it was loose, but some strands were in thin braids that extended all the way up to his scalp. When you delicately pinched one of the braids between your fingers, the braids tied so tightly made them look like little scales. Slowly you unravel them for him, he didn’t protest. In fact, he appeared almost relaxed. “I’ve let him take away many things from me. Too many things. And I’m not about to let him snatch you away too.” 

“Eh, he’s annoying. Silly, but annoying. You on the other hand… my boss who’s a tall, dark, and sinister ugly man.” 

His eyes watched your every movement, looking on idly as your fingers slowly untwined his braids. So casually you were touching a man who had committed unspeakable crimes, most of which you could not even begin the picture. What else had he done to defend the sultan when it was his duty? What had he done to climb the ranks and try to climb even higher to the most dangerous heights? How many souls had he sacrificed to the Cave of Wonders? How many assassins did he personally fend off? How did he punish and silence those that dare try to reveal his secrets and plans working behind the scenes without the royal family or others taking notice? 

Jamil crossed his arms, indifferent to your insult. His gaze never once left your figure as he replied smoothly. “You’re a terrible liar… If I was as ugly as you claimed, you wouldn’t be staring at me like that or touching me. Now, sit down.” He was close–– too close when he added the next words in a way that left you puzzled as to what exactly he could’ve meant. “You’ll be rewarded for recognizing my greatness, before anyone else did. But for now.” He handed you a scroll. "Read, find something useful of the lamp or the cave."

Maybe the most unnerving thing about Jamil, was his mysterious allure. The sultan you knew was cheery and laidback, the prince was spirited and independent, and the thief you would learn about in due time. But the vizier? It seemed impossible to pinpoint anything to him. One moment he was stoic and silent, the next he could be taking your banter and come up with a witty reply, and the very next second he was enraged and permanently extinguishing a life. Yet he wasn’t wildly violent nor too charming that it felt like a mask. And yet, you couldn’t distinguish was was genuine emotion from him or just acts with different intentions behind them. And that was the most concerning part about the vizier–– did he truly like you or was this some elaborate facade?

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

The following day you were awoken by thumping. Staying up late to assist the vizier search through old scrolls and books, wasn’t the brightest idea. The night was a bit of a blur, as you had stayed up so late researching with him. It was a blur of printed text, bickerings and snide remarks, fingers running through hair, and intense gazes, among other things. As you awoke later in the morning to an uproar from outside and a shaking of the ground like an earthquake. Trumpets and bells served as your alarm, as you fell out of the desk you had slumped over last night, a blanket over your shoulder that you hadn’t placed. 

Outside was quite a parade that could put all festivals to shame. White stallions carrying men with banners, camels carrying drummers whose sounds vibrated in the air, bands marching in the most vibrant uniforms, dancers in fine purples like pristine peacocks. It was like a traveling circus, zoo, and party all in one. And in your dazed state, the realization arrived suddenly–– 

“That’s the thief––!” 

Instantly you ran to your own room, or rather, the old vassal’s room, to wash up and change as quickly as humanly possible. You knew this would happen eventually, but you didn’t expect it to happen so soon. The thief, now a princess, was here! Here, arriving with a genie masquerading as their most faithful trusted servant. The lamp, she had the lamp with her! 

Once changed, you stepped back into the vizier’s tower. There was no one there, he even cleaned up after his research session, leaving no evidence behind of his plot with the Cave of Wonders. No book, scroll, or even a page was left. Damn, he was good. In your mind there’s no doubt he’s cleaned up after other plots and murders. What a slippery cretin. 

Quickly departing from the tower, you made your way through the grand halls, past the guards and servants. Although most were entranced by the grand spectacle that princess, or rather a crook, managed to display through the streets of the city. To think all that splendor and so much more was just within reach. But just because the finish line was in sight, did not mean that it was safe. There were more ways to die here than the number of tales Scheherazade had to tell. While having the favor of the sultan and vizier was certainly both an ego boost and a benefit, it didn’t make you invincible. That could only truly happen when you finally had the lamp in hand. 

As soon as you turned a corner, you heard laughter. Immediately, you got the wind knocked out of you and went flying. Literally. You went tumbling backwards, some type of fabric draping over your face and the weight of a body crashing into yours as you collapsed on your back in an awkward angle. You were milliseconds away from screaming bloody murder and ready to tear into whoever could be blamed, but you shut your mouth and clenched your teeth shut when you heard the familiar giggling. 

The cloth, whatever it was that had been over your head and obscuring your vision, was removed. However, it wasn’t removed by a person, it moved on its own. That’s when you realized it wasn’t a piece of cloth, it was a piece of fabric, woven wool to be more specific. The wool that composed the magic flying carpet from the story. It moved like a sentient being as you blinked at it in shock, and it extended one of its tasseled yellow ends to dust you off. 

“How in the hell…?” 

“My dove! I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?” He was gasping a bit from laughing so much on that magic carpet joy ride he must’ve just been on, the adrenaline still pumping through his system from flying within the palace’s high-ceiling rooms. 

Yes, you simple-minded idiot, you hit me like a train at full speed! Is what you would’ve said if you could, but it wouldn’t do to say that aloud when others might hear and get the wrong impression. It would attract too much attention if someone was blatantly disrespectful to the sultan. “No, I’m fine––” Your backside would be aching for a whole day. God, if only there wasn't a need for formalities, you would–– “And thank you… carpet.” The thanks came out awkwardly, as you were unused to thanking carpets but it seemed like a rather harmless and curious thing. 

“This contraption that the princess has brought is wonderful! You should try it!” 

The sultan gestured to the carpet. For such a priceless magical item that was stuck in a cave for who knew how long, it was in shockingly good condition. It had vibrant blues, and yellow patterns and symbols etched onto its surface. Yeah, you were definitely gonna keep it once you were in charge. 

“You know, I really think that my cousin Jaseer will love her! You have to meet her! And well…” He awkwardly scratched his cheek, looking somewhat sheepish as he mustered up the courage to speak the next words. His cheeks grew warm when he averted his gaze. Yet after a moment, his eyes shifted back to you. Such big innocent eyes, like the rarest of rubies. Usually you would try to admire the shine in such gems, but it was impossible to not take note of the obvious adoration within his gaze. “I was thinking, maybe you would like to join me later? We’ll be holding a banquet tonight, a party to celebrate our guests. But also, I wanted to spend time with you. What do you think? Is that alright?” 

For a moment you thought about it, slightly distracted when the carpet’s tassels were brushing against your arm and it appeared to stand so close. Not that you blamed the thing. If you were trapped in the Cave of Wonders like it was for so long, you would’ve gone insane. Maybe the thing just craved company or attention. Maybe it craved freedom. 

Kalim was providing the perfect excuse. You were the distraction, while Jamil could do whatever nefarious deeds he needed to complete in order for the plot to progress. However, it was already past the tipping point. Last night within those books, there was mention of the magic carpet within the Cave of Wonders. So chances are, the vizier already knows the princess is a fraud. 

“Hm, sure. Why not?” 

“Yes! Yes!” Quickly, he took your hands, clutching them tight. His energy was contagious apparently, because the carpet who had calmed down from the flight, received this burst of energy and was spinning around you too with great speed. “You won’t regret this! We’re going to have so much fun. And don’t worry about being overwhelmed by everyone, I know it can be a lot. So I’ll have an area set up just for us, away from the party guests, okay? That way, when we’re together and want to be alone, we can retreat there. Alright?”

Somehow with that invitation, while Jaseer and the princess whose name you’ve yet to learn, let alone care for, were likely learning about each other during the festivities and going off on their own romantic flight on the magic carpet, you were keeping the sultan distracted as the vizier had other matters to handle. Even when you were certainly not elegant or charming in even the slightest sense, appealing to the bubbly young man was surprisingly easy. Perhaps it was because he already was attracted to whatever he saw within you. 

Forced to entertain his request for a dance when the music began, he pulled you back behind a curtain to avoid people seeing, much to your great relief. He had a great big smile as he spoke about various things from the happenings of his kingdom to his own personal matters. 

“Do you care if I was married?” He asked a bit nervously, looking unsure if he should have even mentioned that to you. As far as you knew, the sultan was previously married, but nothing really came of the union. For whatever reason, he was single now with no children and his wife was no longer in the picture. Some creeping suspicion conjured up the possibility that Jamil had something to do with that. 

“I do not care.” You answered honestly. Why was he even asking that like how a boy would shyly ask a girl he liked if they mind the fact that he dated somebody before? Talk about zero charm. Was the only reason he got married because of his status? Most likely. Even if he was filthy rich and powerful, maybe even elegant looking in a way, he wasn’t exactly marriage material. “Tell me anyway. Details. I want details.” 

Surprised, he blinked at you. “Me? You wanna know about that? Well, it’s not very interesting… I would say it’s a long story, but it’s really not.” He chuckled a bit dryly, absentmindedly fiddling with the ends of the curtains where they had privacy on a balcony with a wonderful view of the port where the city met the waters. “I was young, an eighteen-year-old prince. Accidents happened to most of my siblings that were my age, so I was next in line. There’s a law that states that those next in line for the throne have to be married by a certain age. My father picked her when I couldn't decide. She was a princess from the north where apparently it’s all cold and snowy. A year or so after the wedding, my father and mother passed in an accident. Then, later on, she was gone too.” 

These sort of details were never mentioned in any rendition of the story that you remembered. At least, none that you recalled. However, it had been a while since you read them, so it could just be your memory. And the fact that in those takes, the sultan was an old man. “Do you ever miss her?” 

“Hm… sometimes. I thought I would miss her more, I feel like I should miss her a lot, but… I don’t.” He admitted quietly, lounging on his stomach so his arms were folded in front of him and his cheek was resting on his arm. “Over the years, I feel like I’ve lost track of all the accidents. My brother married into the royal family of a neighboring nation and urged them to wage war on our home, my sister attempted to bribe bodyguards to do her dirty work, aunts and uncles sent assassins.” 

“Drama.” You hummed as you lay across from him, laying flat on your back instead of your stomach. 

At your casual remark he almost laughed. Maybe that was his way of processing trauma, through humor and positivity. All this betrayal and hurt was certainly enough to drive someone mad. Maybe he wasn’t completely right in the head. “Okay, this is getting depressing, so I’ll stop. But you see why I like you? Why I trust you with my life? You’re so… so… real. It doesn’t feel like you sugarcoat things, and you’re so blunt! No one ever talks to me like that. You talk to me as if I’m just a guy, and nothing else.” 

He remembered what you said that time in the market. “You are just a guy.” You repeat. And that’s all he would be. If you couldn’t get the lamp, and Jamil got his greedy hands around it first, well maybe it was worth wishing for the vizier to spare the poor sultan. Besides, he was likable. Annoying, but entertaining. “And you really shouldn’t.” Trust. He shouldn’t trust you.

“But I do!” He pushed himself up, until his head was right above yours. Those ruby red eyes gazing right down at you, his face so close to yours that his nose brushed against yours. Gold around his ears dangled, making small rings like wind chimes. Kalim peered at you so immensely, so focused, but it was a gentle tender gaze as he lowered his face closer to yours. “I trust you, so, so much…” 

It only took a few moments for things to get out of hand. Oh, it was so easy, too easy. You were no tempest, but Kalim made it simple. Like toying with a doll. So after several minutes in, you hear the familiar voice of the vizier calling you, you immediately pull away and sit up. Panic was plastered over your face at the thought of being seen by that envious viper. When Kalim sat up with you, he looked much more dazed, like a lovestruck fool. To which you immediately pushed him down and hissed. “Shit! What’s he going to say if he finds me here with the sultan?” 

Part of his white hair was messy, as the cloth he usually wore around his head fell off sometime ago. His short strands stuck out at some angles, and he didn’t bother recollecting his composure as he was still dizzy. “Lucky sultan?” 

When he gave you a stupid grin, you pushed him aside. Luckily the spot was relatively hidden by curtains, pillows, and plush blankets and carpets. “Shut up…! Just, stay here.” 

Quickly you smoothed down your appearance before exiting the area, entering the halls to search for the vizier that had called you. Apparently, the time to act was here. Mere moments ago, he had instructed his loyalest soldiers under his command to bring in the princess they had cornered. 

So by the time you arrived at the vizier’s tower, there in the open window strapped to a chair atop an elevated surface of a table was the princess. Beautiful, sure. Especially when she wore such flashy garbs of pure white and purple. Cleverly she had wrapped a cloth around her head like a shayla, hiding her hair which could’ve been a key feature used to identify her, besides her face of course which she couldn’t exactly conceal under these circumstances. Her feet and wrists were bound tightly with rope, and if her chair tipped backwards she would meet a cold end in the salty waters of the sea right below. 

There was a distinct hint of nervousness in her tone as she attempted to persuade the two guards that this had been a misunderstanding, that they must’ve had no idea who she was, you watched the pair of soldiers double-check the security of the ropes bounding her. While in walked the vizier. It seemed like he was busy while you were taking a… break. Now, if the princess was here, where was that cursed lamp? Your eyes scanned her figure, searching for pockets she might’ve had. 

“We know who you are, Aliyyah.” The vizier spoke, sounding way too casual at the moment as he walked over to his tome situated on his desk. So that was the thief’s true name.

“Aliyyah…? I don’t know who that is–– I’m Princess Alya!” 

Jamil interrupted her, as she looked increasingly anxious. “A princess from a kingdom which does not exist. And who arrived on a magic carpet told to only be obtainable from the Cave of Wonders.” 

Carpet. That’s right. The carpet and the monkey the thief owned were still somewhere within the palace. There couldn’t be any loose-ends. Not when the lamp’s location was still unknown. It could be anywhere within the palace. 

Silently stepping over to the door where two more guards were situated to look-out, you allowed the vizier and thief to continue their stand-off while you opened the door slightly to whisper to one of the additional guards. “Go to our guest’s quarters. There, you should find our visitor’s pet and that magical carpet. Do not let them leave the quarters. And do not go alone, bring multiple other soldiers if you have to, but this is to remain discreet. I don’t care what you do to the monkey, but I better not see so much as a loose piece of string on that carpet. Capeesh?”

Being the vizier’s vassal had its benefits. As they usually only ever responded to the vizier himself, but since you were known to be the wise young man’s trusted advisor, your words carried weight among the staff wielding weapons and wearing armor. So obediently, the soldier nodded and immediately went off to see that the task was done. Afterwhich, you closed the heavy wooden door shut to prevent any sound from escaping, and returned your attention back to the vizier and the thief. 

“I’m afraid you’ve worn out your welcome.” His tone was no longer so casual. There was an icy coldness to it as he stalked closer, quickly growing tired of her adamant denial. “If I throw you off of that balcony, and you are who you say you are, you will die a watery death.” 

If Jamil pushed one of his own guards into a well for even considering the action of refusing orders, well, pushing a thief turned princess off several floors into deep waters was something he wouldn’t hesitate doing. So you watched carefully as the severity of the situation was settling on the princess, as she struggled in her bonds and her seat. However, there was no lie or tricks that could get her out of this one. 

“And if you survive, it can only be because of the lamp. Now…” 

Waving off the pair of soldiers, they left, leaving only the thief, the vizier, and yourself. As the dark-haired sorcerer did the familiar movement of lifting the end of his spear so it was directly against her collarbone, the princess gulped and an ominous look came over the vizier’s face. When the princess glanced at you, you only grinned and wiggled your fingers like waving goodbye. However, when she turned to face you, that’s when your sharp eyes caught a glimpse of something sparkly in the cloth around her hair, right behind her neck. Slowly you walked closer.

“Where is the lamp?” Jamil demanded. 

“Listen,” The young woman pleaded. She was young, about your age. And surely you knew that she would die a watery death, because now you knew where the lamp was. Whatever name she went by, or whoever she was, Princess Alya of a faraway nation or the thief Aliyyah, it wouldn’t matter. “I swear to you,” Her voice wavered with uncertainty. “I am––” 

You bumped the tip of his staff, with enough pressure to tip her off the end just as you leaned forward to reach the cloth around her skull. Your grip was on the fabric, not her. So she went tumbling down multiple floors, plunging into dark brine. Her scream was cut off by the sound of a splash and the breaking of wood. The chair must’ve broken upon impact, but she went sinking down and down. The only thing preventing you from falling as well, was the curved cobra head Jamil had used like a hook around your back to secure you from falling. And in your hands, wrapped in the silk white cloth, lay what would’ve been her salvation, what was your salvation–– the lamp. 

“This is convenient. Now it’s time for you to answer the same question I asked her.” 

“What? Aren’t you going to pull me to safety?” You stared at him wide-eyed, as he practically dangled you above your doom. Yes, the lamp was in hand, but you couldn’t rub it to summon the genie. Not when your fingers were gripping it tightly so it wouldn’t fall into the waters below and risk hitting the jagged rocks, while your other hand gripped the golden staff to avoid falling, your toes just barely on the edge. Even the slightest wrong move, would send you plummeting to those sharp stones and salty waters so far below. Could you survive that fall? Maybe, if you could avoid the rocks. Which seemed like a slim chance. 

Ignoring your growing fear, he continued calmly, keeping a steady grip on his staff. A small tremble could unbalance you and make you fall. Or, he could be so cruel as to let you drop. But, you had the lamp, which might’ve been the only reason he held on. “I know who you are, criminal.” 

Down below, there was no sign of the thief emerging. The only thing that came up to the surface of the waves was a purple sash from her garbs. Something about his words was enough to tell you that he didn’t mean the role you were playing, he meant you. You who were arrested and sent here as punishment, as your own personal hell, to die for your crimes. And here you were, just as those bastard judges wanted, on the very brink of death. Literally. “You know nothing about me––” 

“I know everything about you. I know your crimes, your anger, your burning hatred for those who have wronged you. I know.” Gray eyes narrowed at you, but his hold was unwavering. You couldn’t save yourself, not in this position. You were at his mercy. Even when your heart felt like it was beating rapidly, and you were thinking a mile a minute of possible ways to get out of this situation only for each idea to end in failure. You heard his words he spoke bitterly, like they had a deeper meaning. But then he added, “I know you hide a knife in your shawl, a second in your pillowcase, and a third under your mattress because you never trusted me completely. It pains me to see you reduced to this.” 

No, he knew nothing about you. The real you, even if he thought he did. He could never imagine what it was like, the things you had done. Even if he somehow discovered the truth, that you were not his trusted vessel but acted like them, you weren't them. “You–– You don’t know me!” 

“A criminal from another world, sent into what was like a story. You thought you could trick me and everyone else. But you underestimate me. As soon as you opened your big mouth, I knew you were a fraud. What did you call me? A two-faced snake? Ironic.” 

You had called him that, while playing a role to trick him this entire time. Just as the protagonist had tried, and look where she ended up because of that. Dead. Drowned by water and salt, with a body that would either become fish food or wash ashore as an unrecognizable corpse. How did he know? There was no possible way to know! You told no one! Trusted no one!

The air was a bitter cold. Moonlight shone on his face, letting you see the royal vizier’s cunning features and how he was grinning. He was grinning at your predicament, as he held your fate in his hands. Your arm was starting to feel numb from holding on for so long, but you couldn’t let go. There was no way you would let go of the lamp or of yourself, after everything and how far you got. When glory and sweet revenge on everyone was literally in the palm of your hand.

“But you leave yourself unguarded when you sleep.” That was the answer, you realized with horror. That was how he knew way more than he should! Jamil invaded your very mind, controlling it with this very cursed staff he held you from. “They wronged you, those above you. Underestimate you. We’re more alike than you would like to verbally admit.” 

“Jamil, you––! Vile liar, son of a––” 

“That’s sorcerer to you.” He corrected you. 

That’s right–– in the story once the vizier gets a brief moment of victory, he uses his wishes to place himself atop the social hierarchy of power. First sultan, then a sorcerer, then a genie. Above a sultan: a sorcerer. But why was he skipping the sultan stage? 

The vizier turned serious, stretching out his hand that did not hold the staff. He held out the palm of his thin hand, offering a twisted grin that made your stomach weave into knots. Speaking firmly, he offered a once in a lifetime deal. And it was either accept his deal, or die for the price of what was committed. “I told you, you are mine. I meant that. I plan to be something great, much greater than that simpleton. So, once I become the most powerful man in the world, you may take the title of sultan if it’s what you wish. All you have to do is hand me the lamp, my Treasured Vassal.”

[musicallisto]

hello beloved I hope your shoulder surgery goes well!!! as a little distraction can I please ask for a franco colapinto x driver!reader, enemies to lovers? love u and thinking of u always xoxo

· · · · ♡ BOOM, CRASH! (fc43)

… starring franco colapinto x f!driver!reader ... 2.4k words ... in which you get into a nasty crash, and the first person to visit you in the hospital is the last guy you'd ever imagined being worried about you. ... warnings for crash, hospital, injuries, blood, nothing too graphic i think! reader is a bit of a bully tbhh but it is a cutthroat sport 😌 ... if you haven't noticed already, these are all very self-indulgent for me, and this is no exception.

Ironically, the last words you remember telling Franco Colapinto before you barrel into the wall at turn 12 were “Don't crash it.”

“What?”

“Don't crash it,” you repeat pointedly. “Logan wasn't exactly irreproachable in that regard. Budget cap's drawing closer.”

Your smile is wide but dulcet, not quite reaching your eyes, and your teeth are sharp and gritted. To any inopportune cameras that would be pointed at you right now, you only look like a well-meaning driver giving your rookie teammate advice before his second-ever F1 race... but neither you nor Franco miss the electricity crackling in the hallway outside the driver rooms.

“What makes you think I'm gonna crash it?" the Argentinian bites back, all fluttering eyelashes and wolfish smile. Unfazed, as always. Grinds your gears like little else can. "If anything, you be careful to not crash into me. Since I'm starting ahead on the grid and all.”

“Right, I forget it's your first time in Baku. You'll see what I mean soon enough, anyway.”

Your steps lead you down the hallway and to the garages mechanically, a path you've taken dozens of times, wearing different colored suits, following behind different teammates in stride. And this year's Williams blue would've suited you perfectly... if it didn't come attached with the pretentious goofball traipsing behind you.

You don't even bother looking back when you speak again. You raise your chin and brace yourself for the artificial lights of the pitlane.

“Good luck, or whatever.”

“It wouldn't kill you to be nice, you know?”

“Wouldn't kill you to know your place.”

The door handle creaks beneath your gloved hand, drowning out whatever it is Franco mutters in Spanish on the other end of the hall—”re amargada la piba esta” he mumbles to no one but himself—, and at last you are safe, at peace in the nervous bustle of a garage entirely devoted to you.

Sure, getting a new teammate midseason is a tough predicament to find oneself in: a whole new dynamic to establish, a whole routine to fall into. And newbies always get the chance to make good first impressions; not the girl who’s been sitting in the car for two years. You’d told yourself you wouldn’t mind it—Carlos Sainz will be snatching your first driver privileges next year anyway—but it would be easier to comply if the aforementioned new teammate wasn’t an annoying pain in the ass, flirting and laughing his way through the paddock with that detached nonchalance that believes everyone must be wrapped around his finger, and then having the gall to outqualify you on one of your favorite circuits. On his first-ever time there!

So yes, maybe it’s your ego taking up too much space in the tight cockpit of your Williams, obscuring your vision. Maybe it’s the disastrous grip you’ve reported twice now on the radio—Okay, Y/N, we heard that and we’ll get back to you.

Whatever it is, somewhere around lap 20, your car oversteers into a wide spin right as you enter the rapid turn. The steering wheel snaps out of your hands, and it’s like a giant strangles you with all its might for a blink of an eye, barely even a second.

You only know you’ve hit the wall—hard—from the ringing in your ears and soreness of your jaw. What used to be your front right tire lies in front of your smashed wing, rubber and carbon scattered pitifully. Your finger shakes when you lift it and press the radio button.

“I’m OK… I think.”

A flash of red catches the corner of your eye. You’re not sure if it’s from the flag being waved outside of track limits, a Haas zooming past in the corner, or… it’s hot, and viscous on your eyebrow, dripping into your eyes. You bring your hand to your forehead, where your helmet is crushed inward, just above your left eye. Smashed into your forehead.

Then everything kind of blurs together. You vaguely feel someone helping you out of the wreckage, their distant yapping about concussion symptoms not helping your light-headedness at all. You think you slip out of consciousness for the first time then, on the track still, because your next memory is of an ambulance—or what you assume to be an ambulance, you’ve never ridden in one before, and you even think to yourself this new procedure is pretty excessive from the FIA, the medical car was quite sufficient—and then it’s back to nothingness until you wake up for good on a stretcher, hooked to some sort of medical tube—perfusion?—as you’re being ushered into a quiet hospital room.

The nurse who visits you is sweet, filling in the blanks in slow, accented English. The gash to your forehead is pretty deep, but nothing the surgeon doesn’t see at least once a week! (At that, you lift a groggy hand above your brow bone, where you feel a thick bandage.) A few stitches later and you’re good as new, though the blood loss and concussion combined left you pretty weak, and justify keeping you in observation for the night. It’s just protocol, you’re probably used to hospital visits in that line of work of yours, she jokes—and you know you’ve recovered almost all your mental acuity because you get offended at that. No, you don’t usually crash. In fact, you haven’t all season…

And it had to be today of all days, in Baku… after you told Franco to not crash it.

When the nurse leaves the room with the promise she’ll be back in an hour, you let out a long, dreary sigh. Fernando Alonso’s grainy voice over the radio comes to mind. ¡Karma!

Night falls quickly outside your window with nothing to kill time but your phone. After catching up on the race results—somehow you’re too exhausted to feel irritated at Colapinto’s points finish—and posting a reassuring Instagram story for your followers, you’re left to the mercy of your ruminating thoughts. Sleep is impossible to catch; the adrenaline of the race hasn’t worn off yet, and you’ve been knocked out so long now you’re desperate to leave this stretcher.

You’ve just about decided to call the nurse for an early discharge when a shadow appears behind the door’s little windowpane, hesitates for a second, and then knocks. Medical personnel wouldn’t bother; it’s probably your family, or maybe even Vowles, or…

“Hey, how… che, estás hecha mierda.”

You tense immediately when you catch the brown waves of hair and unmistakable accent as Franco walks into your hospital room. He looks genuinely stumped, like he hadn’t expected to see you in such bad condition, so much so he forgets to shut the door behind him.

For some reason, the sight endears you. Makes you want to take him in your arms, feel his realness in this hallucinatory evening. What a ridiculous thought!

“Stop it with the Spanish,” you protest, devoid of your usual fire however. “Maybe it works on your fangirls, but not on me.”

“I said you look like shit.”

“Oh.” You look him straight in the eye, the silliness of the situation dawning on you, and against all odds you start to laugh. A real laugh, more than a chuckle, one that sends phantom pains stabbing through your sore abdomen. “Well if that’s all you’re gonna say, you can stick to Spanish! I don’t want to hear it.”

What did the nurse say about the anesthesia’s side effects? Do they include feeling a little glad and relieved to see your detested teammate? To know he’s the first person to check up on you?

Whatever the reason, you’re laughing, absurdly, and so is Franco, chuckling to himself as he closes the door and drags a chair closer to your bed. His eyes crinkle like a little kid’s, and that’s when you notice his disheveled appearance. Cheeks a little flushed, hair tousled like he’s just run a marathon, he’s wearing a crumpled-up Williams shirt, no doubt the first thing he could get his hands on after the race. It hits you then that he’s probably just off media duties, and the fact he’s alone, with no team delegation in tow, indicates he left early. Just to get to you. To make sure you were alright.

You are a competitor, but you aren’t a monster. The idea Franco couldn’t be bothered to wait for James, or anyone else, tugs at your heartstrings.

“Thank God you told me not to crash it, huh?” he teases between chuckles.

“Shut up.”

“Careful, Y/N, the budget cap is coming for you,” he wiggles his fingers over your face like a looming ghost.

You turn your head away to face the wall, huffing in exasperation, but a throbbing pain traverses your skull, and you wince. Franco’s eyes darken, smile fading into a grave expression.

You rarely see him like this outside of the helmet. It’s novel, but it’s welcome. Almost attractive, in a way.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I… My helmet smashed into my forehead. I was bleeding pretty bad, apparently, they had to stitch me up. I got concussed too. Aren’t helmets supposed to absorb these hits?”

“Concussed?” he repeats, and holds out his hand in a peace sign. “How many fingers?”

You stick out your tongue at the Argentinian, flipping him the bird.

“And now?”

“Ah, come on, don’t be so mean,” Franco chuckles, scooting a little closer to your stretcher with his chair. Unfazed, as always. But this time it doesn’t peeve you; you’re rather thankful for his cheeky banter, actually. For a moment, in the blur of cold white lights and carbon fiber debris, you’d started to fear you could lose it for good. “We were just starting to become friends!”

“That’s because I’m concussed. I don’t want to be friends with you, we’re rivals.”

“Well the whole rivals thing isn’t working very well for you lately. Maybe you’re better off being friends with me.”

You roll your eyes, but the gnawing anxiety that roars in your stomach whenever someone pits you against the rookie stays quiet for once. Perhaps you’re still under the influence of the tranquilizers… or perhaps those brown eyes holding you in their light, tender in a way you’ve never seen them before, make it harder to get mad at him.

“I’ll consider it.”

And you don’t mean it just yet, but you don’t don’t mean it. What do you even hate Franco Colapinto for? Stealing the spotlight from you just two weeks into his career? Flirting with every living being on the paddock except you? Or forcing you to up your game and face your fears?

A stabbing pain crushes your skull all of a sudden, and you shut your eyes, teeth gritted and muscles taut, to try and breathe it out… to no avail. When you open your eyes, Franco is staring at you, brows furrowed in that same serious, concerned expression that sends a wholly different type of pins and needles through your body.

“Everything alright?”

“No… The painkillers. I need another ketoprofen,” you whine, squinting your eyes against the harsh hospital lightning.

“Should I call the nurse?”

“No, they’re on the table over there,” you gesture blindly. “There’s a glass too.”

Only sounds inform you of what’s going on once you close your eyes, faint lights and colors barely piercing through your eyelids. The rustling of fabric, then someone fumbling with cardboard and pills, your sink opening, and then cautious footsteps stopping at the edge of your bed.

“Here.”

You take the pill between weak fingers and fight with all your might to sit up straight in the bed without moving your head… but the soreness and exhaustion from the race and surgery overpower you. So much for neck strength.

“I can’t,” you huff out in defeat. “I can’t tilt my head.”

“It’s okay. Take the pill,” Franco orders softly, and you put the drug on your tongue, too tired to raise the outrage of him bossing you around.

Slowly, carefully, Franco brings the rim of the glass to your lips, and you drink all that you can, training your attention on the medication going down your throat—and not on your teammate’s intense gaze fixed on your mouth, nor the proximity of your bodies or his slightly ragged breath.

“Thank you,” you exhale when you’re done.

Luckily for him, he has his back turned to you when you speak, setting the empty glass down on the table, so you don’t notice his bashful smile. He’s never heard you so docile, affable, even, and though he likes it when you bite back… it feels great, too, to know there is a way to pierce that armor of yours.

“Franco,” you call out to him, neither of you missing how this is one of the first times you’ve called him by his first name. “Do you mind… staying? Just until James or someone else gets here. It gets so boring.”

He spins on his heels in disbelief, scrutinizing you in search of mockery, or irony, or your usual callousness… but all he reads is earnest and the slightest hint of embarrassment, all he sees is your outstretched hand. So he brushes it with his, not daring to hold it purposefully just yet. Like he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome into your bubble.

“Yeah, sure. But only so you won’t get bored.”

“Of course,” you smile faintly as he sits back down on his chair. Your eyes meet in newfound amusement, maybe even temporary fondness. “Don’t go around thinking I like you.”

“Me? I would never. We’re rivals.”

You give a small appreciative nod, and after some instants of silence, clear your throat and ask him to recount the end of the race. Just as you expected, his storytelling is dramatic and entertaining, interspersed with words he doesn’t remember how to say in English and the unmissable zest of grid gossip Franco always brings to his tales. You chuckle, gasp, and pester even, as much as you can with your aching skull and limbs… and barely notice the minutes ticking by, or how you wish the rest of your team would never show up, your distaste for Franco slaking.

Maybe you can be persuaded into liking his presence, after all. So long as he stays out of the car, though… and remains your personal nurse.

… f1 taglist; @retvenkos @giuseppe-yuki (want to be added? send me an ask!)

[solbaby7]

Hi! Could you write one where the reader somehow ingests a magic aphrodisiac while out on a mission. And she is in a ton of discomfort but her mate (any male maybe rhys) isn’t able to get there quickly so he gives cassian or azriel permission to give her some relief until he can arrive ?? :) a little angsty but also sexy

Blurred Lines

pairing: rhysand x reader x az

warnings: swearing, boyfriend lets his best friend fuck his girlfriend, mentions of aphrodisiacs, probs typos

[ part 2 ] [ part 3 ]

—

You’d felt uneasy, stomach churning like curdled milk after inhaling so much of the suspicious purple powder that had been blown in your face. “It burns,” Your body stumbles into Azriel’s, fingers pinching at your nose as you tried to ease the tingle that was beginning to prickle behind your eyes and nostrils.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, piercing eyes scanning the crowd for the figure cloaked in a red so deep it was nearly black but not even his shadows find a trace of them. “We need to get out of here. Do you have it?”

The thrum of the pages hum in the satchel strapped tightly beneath your arm. It had taken weeks to even locate a trace of them, just barely realizing anything was missing from the Book of Breathings until Nesta discovered the tattered remnants of torn pages tucked in the book spine. “I have it.” It comes out slightly slurred, your vision distorting as the powder began to take effect. The uncomfortable heat begins in your sinuses, spreading like venom in your bloodstream until every inch of your body felt like it was pressed up against the crackling flames of a fire. “Whatever that was—it’s really potent.”

Azriel grips you close, shadows cloaking your whole body until he’s winnowed you a safe enough distance away to properly evaluate you. “Gods, your eyes.” You squirm under the warmth of his hands. A simple touch sending every nerve into a frenzy and you’re abnormally aware of the steady throb between your thighs.

Your heartrate spikes, fingers slightly unsteady when snatching for the dagger strapped to your thigh and once you see your reflection it falls from your grasp. Embedded in the natural color of your iris was a smattering of shiny purple dots. “What the hell was that stuff?”

“I don’t know.” Azriel’s worry only grows, eyes glazing over as he no doubt was relaying everything that had happened to Rhys—to your mate. The very thought of him has arousal pooling between your thighs but the pleasant tingle of pleasure that usually followed is nowhere to be found. Every muscle seized with stress, fingers digging into your hair to alleviate the pulsing pressure all over. “Just hang on,” He pleads, holding you close despite your discomfort but there’s no other choice but to winnow as close as the wards around the safe house would allow. “Rhys is on his way.”

The words barely register, sweat beading at your hairline and even with the temperatures slightly lower than usual, the heat refused to subside. It radiates through your clothes, micro particles of sparkling purple transferring from your leathers to Az’s the longer he had to support your weight.

You scramble away from him the moment the door opens, fingers frantically pulling at the buttons keeping the tactical gear in place until it’s left in a heap on the floor. Gods, the floor. So cool against bare skin and the momentary relief is too good to even notice the fact that you were so exposed, the thin straps of the flimsy undershirt slipping down your shoulder; the hem hiking up the length of your stomach.

Vaguely aware of the sounds around you, the floor barely rumbles as Azriel shifted through the space. It was a little cramped but big enough for a kitchen and a bedroom with a small bathroom tucked within.

Too soon does the cool fade away, pained whines follow and every brush of your fingers against bare skin is worse than most other tortures you’d endured. It’s accidental, the scrape of your nail against your nipple through thin material and the moan that rips free is more like a choked cry. Every move after that feels like another is in control of your body, forcing your limbs to move, willing your fingers to trail beneath the waistband of your pants and past the soft cotton of your underwear.

“I ran you a bath—“ The rest is abruptly cut off, every single muscle in Azriel’s body going stiff at the sight of you sprawled out on the kitchen floor with so much skin on display. Golden eyes catch on the heaving fullness of your breasts spilling from the confines of your top, the frenzied hand tucked in your leathers and Azriel physically stumbles back when the intensity of your scent fully hits him. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” Words slur together, frustrated tears falling down the curve of your cheeks and you’re too caught up in the temporary solace to be embarrassed about the crude behavior; the obscene squelching between your thighs. “I’m so sorry, I just can’t help it—hurts so bad.”

Azriel doesn’t reply, stunned in place and distantly he recognizes a familiar pressure in his brain. A feline voice laced with worry snapping him from his stupor. “Please tell me you’re close.”

“I need more time, Az.”

“She doesn’t have it,” The sight is pushed at Rhysand at warp speed, the sounds of his mate filling the conclaves of his mind.

There’s a pause, one that lasts a beat too long and Azriel begins to catch on to the plan his High Lord was brewing. “Then, help her.”

“Rhysand.”

“I trust you,” Rhys says a little softer, even if the words are laced with that territorial gruff. “Help her. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He can’t move, even if his shadows slink forward at the permission given. They’re cautious before touching you, just barely ghosting over the curve of your shoulder and the whimper that it pulls makes Azriel’s stomach clench. You lean into the cool touch that comes with the wisps of darkness, back arching at the feeling. “Where’s Rhys?”

“He’ll be here, he just needs a little more time.”

More tears fall, even if you do nod in understanding but your thoughts muddy together, unable to differentiate one sentence from the next as you forgo pants altogether. “I can’t wait anymore, Az. Please.” You’re not sure what you’re asking for exactly but you’re positively certain that your fingers aren’t enough. “Please touch me.”

He says your name so softly, crooning soothing words and tucking your hair away from your forehead. “Are you sure?”

You don’t answer with words, just eyes half-lidded and grip surprisingly gentle when grabbing for his wrist, guiding his hand to the sodden mess between your thighs. Azriel can’t fight his reaction to the slick arousal coating his fingers through your lacy underthings, head dipping back and eyes daring to close—savoring the feel of you. “I need you to make me feel better,” You don’t even sound like yourself, tone whiny and desperate as you hike your shirt over your head. “Please, can you do that for me? Please, please, please.”

Your hips buck up into the pressure of his fingers against you, squirming uncontrollably as he slowly pulls the fabric to the side and the first swipe of skin on skin is almost enough to bring you over the edge. “Alright,” Your name on his lips sends your nerves into a frenzy, hips wiggling just enough for one finger to sink into your cunt and the relief is instant. “I’ll make it better, just breathe for me, okay?”

It’s a simple request and yet still you have difficulty obeying as you chase the icy chill that quenches the burning inferno. Another finger follows the first and Azriel can’t tear his eyes away from the way your spine curves with each delicious drag of them against your walls. “Yes,” It comes out in a near hiss, teeth biting at the fat of your bottom lip as you grope at your chest. “Feels so fucking good.”

Maybe Azriel indulged just a little, taking extra time exploring the spots at had your eyes going lazy and when moans shift into breathy whines—Azriel submits completely. The taste of you on his tongue was unlike anything than he could’ve imagined, warm and sweet against his tongue like cookies dipped in warm milk. A string of swears tumble from your lips so fast he briefly wonders if it’s another language. He hums all the same, low vibrations sending goosebumps along your flesh and shadows take the place of your hands. Kneading at supple breasts and tugging on pert nipples until the onslaught of pleasure has you tensing beneath him. “That’s it,” He mutters against your sex, acutely aware of the throbbing erection straining against the binds of his leathers. “Feel better?”

Your body answers for you, tugging him close enough to feel the hardness of his length against your pussy. “Need more, Az.” One long drag against the stiff material and he’s groaning into your neck, holding up his weight on two strong arms and you can’t help but think about them holding you up against a wall, fucking up into you until your lungs gave out.

Azriel stares down at you, eyes dark and lips parted as if he could see exactly what filthy things were flashing behind your eyelids. “Relax, pretty girl.” Shadows tug at the binds holding his pants in place, dragging them down, down, down. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, arousal pooling between your legs with a slutty squelch. “I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

[mommynott]

Happily ever after

Theodore Nott x Reader wedding headcanons

Warning: 18+, MDNI, slight smut, fluff, wedding, marriage, groom!Theo, wedding!theo

- The night before your wedding, he cuddles you constantly, never letting go. Leaving the sweetest kisses along your jaw line. “ti amo così tanto, tesoro”

- You wake up to homemade breakfast on your nightstand, a hand written letter from Theo. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

- Theo gives you your time in the morning, to get ready with your girlfriends. Meanwhile he’s nervous with the guys. Not nervous to marry you. But nervous you’d eventually leave him

- The boys all reassure him, and he calms down before the ceremony. And of course Mattheo assures him he DOES have the rings

- He waits at the alter, holding both hands in front of himself. Palms sweating. But then he sees you. Ethereal. Heavenly. Goddess like.

- “I won’t cry, it’s a happy moment. How can I cry?” That went out the window the second he saw you in the white wedding gown. tears of love and joy pricking his eyes while you slowly glide down the aisle.

- The second you reach his side, he grabs your hand, planting a sweet kiss to the top of it. “sei assolutamente bellissima”

- The entire ceremony is filled with stolen glances from Theo. He can’t keep his eyes off of you. Your beauty overwhelming in this best way possible.

- The first kiss, he carefully slides one hand along your hip while his other hand tenderly caresses the back of your head. He dips you gently, allowing your bodies to meld into each other, as he presses his lips to yours in a passionate, ardent kiss filled with overflowing love and desire.

- When you do your grand entrances he’s thrilled to show off his stunning new wife. Mrs.Nott. Spinning you over to the cake where you both cut into it perfectly. Feeding it to each other as both of your laughter fills the air.

- All during dinner, Theo keeps one hand on your thigh, over the material of your dress. Wanting just the simplest touch from you.

- Your first dance together is sweet, Theo guiding you across the dance floor gracefully. Feeling the two of you become one. The love was radiating off of you both, even the guests feeling it.

- Once the festivities actually begin, you and Theo never leave the dance floor, having the time of your lives together. But he always has his hands on you. The whole night. No matter what.

- After Mattheo gives his speech, that man gets absolutely sloshed. Hammered and stumbling around. But not in an annoying way, but in an absolutely hilarious way.

- During the garter toss, Theo does a seductive yet silly dance, being playful with it. He takes off his suit jacket. Trying to turn up the heat with you while heading under your dress. But before he snatches the lace garter, he makes sure to leave three kisses along your upper thigh. I. Love. You. That was always his little thing with you.

- The guys all line up as Theo throws the garter and to everyone’s surprise, Blaise is the one to be catching it. Holding it up with a prideful smirk before placing it on his bicep.

- At the send off, the guests line up with sparklers, you both waltz within them. The glowing crackles burning brightly when all of a sudden, fireworks go off over head. “Surprise, amore.” Theo had surprised you with a firework show at send off. Dipping you into a loving kiss.

- Once the festivities end, you head to your hotel suite, and Theo doesn’t waste anytime. Slamming his lips against yours in a heated and rough kiss.

- He would definitely fuck you in your wedding dress. Throwing it up over your waist as he bends you over. Exploring every inch of you. “I’m fucking MY wife tonight. Misses fucking Nott.”

- Theo would take his time, going from rough to loving. Combining both of the sensations for you. Not being able to keep his hands off of you. And of course, this is an all night thing.

- The aftercare? It’s always been amazing, but on this special night, he draws you a relaxing bubble bath, red rose petals floating atop the still water. Candles lit around the entire bathroom while he holds you. Carefully washing and massaging you. Placing kisses on all of the marks he left you from the sex. But paying close attention to one mark in particular…the sparkling diamond wedding ring.

I know I know, mostly fluff and cuteness😭 But this idea came to mind last night and I HAD to do it! I hope you all enjoy sweet wedding!theo as much as I do 🥹🤍

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

can you do a bakugo x reader who’s afraid of the dark? i think he’d be cute about it and make small explosions kinda like fireworks to cheer them up

omg whats so funny about this is that this is a scenario that happens in my oc x canon verse actually omg !! this is such a cute ask, tysm anon ! fem reader (tho no gender specified) ages arent specified here but i imagined both katsuki n reader younger (11-12) !!

there's a sudden power outage during math class.

the mix of groans and immediate screams put you on edge, they make your heart beat and you wish you could tell them all to just shut up. but you're mouth isn't working, your throat is clogged up and you can't see anything.

you hate the dark. it's embarrassing to still be scared of it at your age, it's childish and you're not a little kid anymore. you're sure katsuki wasn't scared of the dark anymore. granted, he wasn't scared of anything.

you’d walked out of your classroom, trying to maybe find some type of light source outside of class, you doubted the teacher noticed you leaving with all the chaos brewing.

very bad idea, it was pitch black. probably even darker than in class somehow. you feel your heart beat quicken as your eyes slowly start stinging.

you won’t cry, that’s so lame.

you’re old enough to know that monsters don’t exist, you know nothing is going to come snatch you up to drag you off into the darkness never to be seen again. of course you know that.

but you’re still so scared, and the scenarios you’d just made up where making you even more nervous. your eyes sting and you know it’s lame, but you really feel like crying.

if you were going to cry, you at least wanted to make sure no one could see you doing it once the lights turned back on. you manage to find a broom closet in the darkness and decide to hole up in there. you shiver, tightly hugging your knees. you feel tears prick in your eyes. it’s lame, and you’re too old to be crying, but you figure no one will know anyway.

then the door slams open.

you gasp, but don’t dare look up and squeeze your eyes shut tightly. maybe a monster was here to take you, maybe it was one of your classmates and they were gonna tell everyone how uncool and lame you were for crying.

“what’re you doing in here ?! i was lookin’ all around for you !”

you look up then, and katsuki looks back at you angrily. you bite your lip, you didn’t want him of all people to see you like this, he’d for sure think it was lame. katsuki’s expression morphs from anger to surprise to confusion. he raises a brow.

“what’re you crying for ?” the tone of his voice makes you hide your face again, furiously wiping at your eyes. you can see how he looks at you from the lights coming from outside, it peeks through the opening of the door, and you think that’s worse than a monster coming to get you.

“i-i’m not !” you mumble, your voice crackles as you do. you hear katsuki huff and then the door slams. what you were afraid of came true, you think. he thought you were embarrassing and wouldn’t want to be your friend anymore—

warm, warm hands grip at your wrists and rip them away from your face so you can see—katsuki. he’s still here ?

“liar.” he says, eyebrows furrowed. “y’know i hate liars.” you do know, you don’t want katsuki to hate you, that’s why you’re in here. you blink at him in surprise. katsuki only squints at you, before plopping down next to you. it’s a very tight squeeze, but he nudges your shoulder to make space for himself and he makes it happen.

anything katsuki put his mind to was possible. if he wanted to sit next to you in this cramped broom closet he was going to, no matter what. you always found that cool about him.

“why’d you run off ? i was looking for you..” he asks.

“i thought you wouldn’t notice..” you respond meekly. katsuki looks back at you. your shoulder hurts a bit so you readjust and move back. you can see his incredulous expression even better.

“hah ? why wouldn’t i ?”

why wouldn’t he ? because you were lame ? because crying about the dark at your age was embarrassing ?

“cus..” you fiddle with your hands, you can’t finish your sentence. katsuki finishes it for you.

“what, cus you’re scared ?” the way he says it. scared. makes you want to deny it again. but you hate lying and katsuki hates liars. so you just shrug. it’s quiet again, you hear the tapping of branches against the window outside. rain tapping the window, and then a big crack of thunder. you jump a bit despite yourself.

“teach said the power won’t be back till this let’s up.” he explains. this meaning the storm, you assume. you don’t know what to say anymore, you’re glad katsuki can’t see you.

“s’fine y’know..” he utters after a bit. you look back at him in shock, blinking rapidly. your eyes have gotten used to the darkness and you can see how his eyes dart around. he settles on pulling at his shoe laces for a bit.

“but…” you start, your throat is still clogged up “you said you hated crybabies…an’ scaredy-cats..” katsuki scowls at your words, tugging and twirling at his laces.

“i do.” he confirms, then he glances at you. “but i know you’re not.”

oh. you can’t muster up anything. you know you should say something now, and you feel your cheeks warm at his words. but it’s still so dark.

katsuki sits quietly as he inspects you. then he gets in your space again. you whine in annoyance, he’ll squish your shoulder at this rate but he grumbles back, he’s made up his mind. and there was nothing you could do about it.

and you thought that was kinda cool.

he stretches his hand out in front of you both. “look,” is all he says. you do, and after a moment.

soft little "cracks !" and "pops !" fill your ears, they’re not from outside, but from his hand, small orange lights accompanying them. you can’t stop looking, in awe as he keeps going. you always thought katsuki’s quirk was cool, and how much he control he had over it. he’d be an awesome hero, you're sure. he made sure to tell the whole world he would be.

he insisted that you’d be his number one fan forever. you always jokingly tell him he’ll have to work for it. “watch me, then !” he’d smirk, he’d claim he’d be the strongest in the world and you’d have no choice but to beg for his autograph then. “in your dreams !” you’d quip, but it never discouraged him. you never told him you were already his biggest fan. that he was your best friend in the world, that you thought he was the coolest.

“cool..” you utter quietly.

you can hear him huff proudly next to you, then the sparks slowly stop. you turn to look back at katsuki. his face is slightly illuminated by the sparks he tries to stop, you think you see a bit of pink on his cheeks.

"who cares if you're scared..i'm here, so you don't gotta be anymore." katsuki shoves his shoulder against yours teasingly "so don't go runnin' off anymore, got it ?"

and you hope his eyes have adjusted too, so he can see you smile. you're still a little scared now that it's completely dark again. and you're still not fully convinced a monster won't pop out and try to eat the both of you. but you know katsuki isn't scared of anything, and if one does show up he'll blast it away.

and he'll light up the way for you, no matter how dark it gets.

[natalievoncatte]

The yawn stretched Lena’s jaw to the point that she felt like a cat, baring her fangs. Naturally, it prompted a Kara Danvers Pout, which was utterly devastating. Kara looked at her over the top of her drink cup, straw still pursed in her delicate pink lips as she frowned slightly.

“How long have you been awake?”

“I had a half hour nap this morning,” Lena sighed.

She’d been in the office for three days, but she didn’t admit that.

“Leeeenaaaaaaa,” Kara said, drawing her name out into a gentle rebuke. “You promised me you’d stop doing that to yourself. I’m taking you home.”

Lena’s heart skipped and Kara abruptly jerked upright, briefly glancing at her. Lena hated when that happened, when her body betrayed her. Kara meant escort her home; Lena’s thoroughly tired mind had supplied another scenario, one where Kara carried her onto the bed, relieved her of her clothes and dove between her legs, but that was never going to happen. Lena let out a long sigh of resignation, trying to be satisfied with best-friendship.

She hoped Kara hadn’t suddenly developed telepathy.

If you took me home I’d never leave. I could make love to you for a hundred years.

Kara smiled back at Lena’s wistful look. “I mean it.”

“Okay. I can come back to it tomorrow. Besides, I’m too full of grease and cheese to stay awake. Should we…”

Lena never finished her sentence. There was a crackle in the air, a sudden wet smell of ozone, and the thunderous boom that made her ears ring.

Kara flashed in front of her at super-speed, yanking off her glasses and tossing them on the couch in a smooth motion.

Hovering in the middle of her office was some ramshackle contraption resembling a mechanical eye about the size of a basketball that scanned Kara with a faint purple energy ray.

“Kara Danvers. Supergirl. I am Zeglos, Regent of the Alotian Republic. I am calling to you from the home of my people, located in what is to you a subatomic realm we call Universe Q. We need your help, you are our only hope. The invaders are slaughtering us and razing our home. There is no time.”

Kara glanced back at Lena. “I’ll help if I can. Let me-“

“There is no time. You must come with me now.”

“Wait, hold on a second-“

The machine flashed, thrumming as it powered up, and blasted here with a wave of light that surrounded them both, and then in a crackling boom they both vanished, leaving behind the ozone smell and a faint impression of Kara’s boot heels in the carpet.

Lena stared into the empty space for a moment, then shot to her feet, snatching the phone off her desk, where it had lain ignored since Kara walked into the room.

She called Alex, shocked at the blubbering panic in her own voice. Within a few minutes, everyone was there, piling into the room. Lena warded them off from the spot where Kara had stood. Alex was cold and calm, her voice clinical, and she immediately began issuing orders. J’onn took Lena aside and gently asked her probing questions in the manner of an old detective, coaxing every meager detail of the event out of her.

Within half an hour, Brainy and Lena had set up all sorts of equipment around the room, scanning, hoping to find some energy signature or other clue that could enable them to bring Kara back from wherever she’d been taken.

It proved fruitless. They tried everything.

Minutes stretched into hours. Lena was exhausted, heavy with fatigue.

“Go home, get some sleep,” said Alex. “We can’t help her if we pass out on the floor.”

“I’ll sleep here.”

She did, throwing a thin blanket over herself on the couch. It was Alex, not Lena, who cleaned up the Big Belly Burger mess. Lena slept fitfully, showered in the en-suite attached to her office, and changed into an old hoodie that she kept there and wore when no one was looking.

It wasn’t hers. Threadbare, a maroon color faded to a soft red, the back still emblazoned with a cracked and fading Midvale Mathletes Club logo, it was Kara’s. Lena had snatched it from Kara’s sofa and put it on one night when she was feeling bold and then, as now, felt surrounded by it, the oversized garment swaddling her.

And it smelled like Kara, just enough. Kara had stared at her intently for a moment when she took it that night but said nothing, a wistful sad look on her face before the moment was broken by Wynn’s bad joke at the table. Wynn was gone now, but the hoodie remained, just as it had remained when they were fighting, when she thought she’d never see Kara again. She’d worn it then and cried herself to sleep in it.

Just like now.

A day became two. Then three. Five. Lena tried everything, pursued every theory. They called in every favor, human and alien. Brainy tried to send messages to the future. Nia dreamed fruitless dreams. Alex paced like a caged animal and Kelly kept the peace, keeping them all fed, making sure everyone slept, talking things out whenever tempers flared.

Nothing worked.

Lena even tried praying, something she hadn’t done since the last time she was in a small church in Ireland. It didn’t work this time, either.

Lena was seated next to Brainy on the couch, going over a design for a new device to try to follow what was by now a thoroughly cold trail. Alex stood at the balcony door, staring out into a slashing summer rain squall that buffeted the glass with distant thunder and gusts of wind.

The ozone smell tickled Lena’s nose and she looked up, just as Kara took a stumbling step out of nowhere, appearing in her office with an utterly bewildered look on her face.

“Kara?”

Alex snapped round, adding her voice to the chorus. “Kara?”

Kara stared at her sister, open-mouthed, tears welling in her eyes.

“Alex?” she said. “Alex, you’re alive? How is that possible?”

“Alive? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Kara!” Lena cried, her voice ragged in her throat.

At the sound of her voice, Kara snapped around, eyes wide. Her knees buckled and she sagged, almost falling. She stumbled forward as Lena stood and they fell into each other, Lena hurling herself, reckless, into an embrace that revealed too much. She almost climbed Kara, all but throwing her legs around her as well as her arms as she buried her face in the Kryptonian’s neck.

“Oh God. Oh Rao. I thought you would all be gone. I begged them to let me leave but they wouldn’t let me go, I had to…”

“Kara?” Alex asked, cautiously. “Why would we be gone?”

Kara barely seemed to hear her as she gently twined her fingers in Lena’s hair and wrapped her powerful arm around Lena’s waist, encircling and shielding her.

“How long has it been?”

“About a week,” Lena choked out. “I was so scared.”

“A week?” Kara blurted. “It’s only been a week here?”

Alex put a reassuring hand on Kara’s back, standing next to them. “Yeah, you were taken on Tuesday, kiddo. It’s Wednesday, the 17th.”

Kara stared past Lena, resting her chin on the shorter woman’s head, and began to sob with relief.

“Kara?” said Alex.

“Time dilation,” said Brainy.

“They told me time would pass slower up here but I didn’t believe them. I’ve been gone for… for…”

“It’s okay, Kara,” Lena whispered. “You’re okay, you’re back.”

“Eighty seven years, four months, and eighteen days,” Kara sobbed. “It’s been so long, I thought you were all dead.”

Alex stiffened. “Kara. Oh my God.”

Kara buried her face in Lena’s hair and breathed her in, shuddering. “I’d given up. All that kept me going was hoping I could see you again. This is a gift. A gift. I love you all so much.”

Kara still held her, rocking slightly, her big shoulders shaking with powerful sobs.

“Kara,” Lena whispered. “Kara, it’s okay.”

“I love you,” Kara blurted. “I love you. It’s okay if you don’t love me back, I just need to tell you, I have to tell you. All I could think about down there is how stupid I was and how stupid I’ve been and how none of the reasons I never told you made any sense,” she sucked in a breath as if she’d briefly forgotten how, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

There could be no mistaking her intent. She seethed with it, it radiated from her very bones. Lena hugged her hard, crushing her with all her might as if to crawl inside her.

“God, Kara, I’ve dreamed of hearing you say that. I love you too. Let’s… mmmph!”

Kara was kissing her. Lena’s brain briefly froze, then she realized the full magnitude of what was happening. Kara was kissing her. Kara was kissing her. Then Lena was kissing her back. There was so much in it, need and lust and adoration and an unbelievable desperation, but above all love. Lena felt her heart open as if hadn’t in a long time, like a flower unfolding to receive the nurturing warmth of morning sun.

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” Kara whispered when they finally broke and Lena again could breathe.

“Let me take you home,” said Lena.

[wafflefries13]

Dream a Little Dream of Me (Twisted Wonderland Cast X Reader)

Summary: A look into the future with the Twisted Wonderland cast, guest staring our favorite magicless prefect.

AN: Can you tell which of these were really hard for me to come up with? Overall I'm pretty happy with them. A few of these I feel like I could come up with full-length fics later. But, man, did I not realize exactly how big the cast was until I started writing it all. I thought I would keep them all to around 500 words but I quickly abandoned that.

Warnings: None that I can think of. AFAB reader with she/her pronouns.

“You can see the future?” 

(Y/N) stood with Ace and Deuce, Grim clinging on to the side of the cauldron, watching the swirling purples, blues, and greens of their latest alchemy assignment come together. 

“Sort of?” Deuce said, looking into his own cauldron, one he hadn’t summoned out of thin air this time. “It’s more like what might happen in the future. Like, if you continue doing what you’re doing you’re more likely to get this result sort of thing.” 

“It's not really specific either,” Ace added. “This is kind of a standard potion for midterms. I think every year is doing it.” 

“The oracleum mycoculous mushroom,” Professor Crewel said, giving a stern eye to the chatting group. “Is said to give premonitions, depending on how it is treated. The method we are using today should give vivid dreams on future outcomes. I recommend when you go to bed tonight, focus on a certain aspect of the future you want more information about. Health, career, wealth, marriage. Something nebulous will work better with this specific concoction. It’s important to note that you will be aware that you’re dreaming, but unable to have any agency or action. Remember you’re not controlling the vision, just let it happen and see what information you can gather.”   

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this magic stuff,” (Y/N) said, ladling their potion into a thick mug. She screwed her face up. “Or the smell.” 

“More for me then!” Grim cheered, snatching the mug out of her hands and downing the entire thing before (Y/N) could protest. As soon as he had drained the last drop, he turned a strange shade of green, despite his gray fur. 

(Y/N) pet his head sympathetically as Grim made gagging noises. “That’s what you get for being impatient.” 

As soon as the rest of the class had drunk their potion, with similar reactions to Grim, they were dismissed. The rest of the day went on as normal, or as normal as it could be at Night Raven College. 

As the sun set and students settled into their beds, some eagerly awaited the possible visions that they hoped would come to them as they slept. Others dreaded the uncertain future. Still others ignored the possibilities all together, not putting stock into an uncertain chance of a glimpse of the future, determined to make their fortune themselves. 

And so, NRC slept and dreamed. 

Ace

Ace vaulted over the overturned trash can, dashing after the culprit. His feet pounded the pavement, heart thundering in his ears with every step. The culprit looked over his shoulder to see Ace still in hot pursuit and he dashing out into the street. Cars swerved and braked hard, trying to avoid hitting him, one overcorrecting and swiping into another car. Ace ignored the angry shouts, sliding across the hood of a crashed car with single determination. 

“Ace!” Deuce’s voice crackled from the walky-talky fixed to his tactical vest. “Where are you?” 

Ace quickly flicked his eyes up to check the street signs. “Heading south down Dodgson street!” South? Was that right? It sounded like the right thing to say, and it’s not like he had time to check the position of the sun. 

“On it!” Deuce called back. 

Ace’s muscles burned, but he refused to break stride. The culprit cut through an open air market, shoving and throwing people behind him to try and slow Ace down. Ace tried to catch them while still keeping the culprit in his line of sight. Just when he felt like his lungs were about to give out, an arm shot out from the corner, clotheslining the culprit. The culprit fell back hard, his own momentum bringing him down. Deuce stepped out from the corner, cracking his knuckles. Ace slid to a stop next to them, quickly kneeling down to flip the culprit on his stomach, handcuffing his hands behind him. Stolen mage stones spilled from the culprit’s pockets. 

Later, back at the Arcane Special Defense Unit headquarters in the Queendom of Roses, everyone was celebrating. Senior officers gave hearty congratulations to the two rookies for their final take down of a mage stone thief ring that had been a thorn in their side for almost a decade. Deuce took the praise with a little more grace, demurely waving off attention, while Ace preened and basked in it. 

“Hey, Trappola!” One of the senior officers called over the din. “You got a visitor!” 

(Y/N) poked her head out from behind the officer, giving a little wave. Several of the other officers whistled and whooped, Deuce elbowing him with a smile. Ace flipped them off and jogged over to (Y/N) pulling her out of the main room to a slightly quieter hallway. 

“Hey, hero,” (Y/N) said, kissing his cheek. 

“Hero, huh?” Ace said with a crooked smile. “I like the sound of that.” 

“Don’t get a big head, now.” 

“Hey, you’re talking to a soon to be detective. That deserves some respect, right?” 

“Sure, sure.” (Y/N) flicked his chest. “You’ve always had a big head anyway.” 

“Alright, that’s it!” Smirking, Ace leaned down, slinging his arms around (Y/N)’s midsection and sweeping her up to toss over his shoulder. (Y/N) shrieked in delight as he spun around. Getting dizzy, Ace tripped over his feet, causing them both to tumble down. Ace pivoted at the last second so he landed first, softening the blow, (Y/N) landing on top of him. They both looked at each other for a moment before bursting out in a fit of giggles. 

Catching her breath, (Y/N) rested her chin on Ace’s chest, gazing up at him. He held her close, brushing a hand through her hair. 

“Marry me,” He mumbled. They both seemed shocked that he had said it, Ace immediately blushing with wide eyes. “I - I mean,” He stuttered. “I didn’t mean - I mean, I did, but I didn’t mean to say it now - Not that I wouldn’t want to or anything but -” 

(Y/N) silenced him with a kiss. “It’s okay,” She said when she pulled away, leaving Ace dazed. “I’ll wait for you.” 

Ace pulled her close, burying his face in her shoulder, purposefully ignoring the cheers from the officers who had stuck their heads out the door. He started thinking about jewelry stores nearby. 

Deuce

Deuce fiddled with the clasp on his cape. He looked in the full-length mirror in his room. His private room - some of the perks of being Heartslabyul’s House Warden. He’d been fitted for the uniform at the end of last school year, when Riddle had announced Deuce as his successor. And now, here he was, finally wearing it. It felt awkward. He looked awkward. Not for the first time, he couldn’t believe he was here, wearing it. It didn’t look right. Or, rather, he didn’t look right in it. 

There was a soft knock at his door. Deuce flinched away from fiddling with the uniform like it had burned him. “Come in!” He called. Why did his voice sound so weird? Was that what a House Warden should sound like? 

(Y/N) popped her head in, wearing the formal entrance ceremony robes. “Just me. Whoa.” She stepped inside, staring at Deuce. She looked at him in awe, a smile spreading across her face. She clasped her hands together. “Deuce! You look amazing!” 

He spread his arms wide, trying to find whatever (Y/N) saw in him. “You think so? I don’t look, I don’t know, out of place or anything?” 

She hummed, walking forward and straightening Deuce’s cape. “I think you look like a fine and respectable House Warden, one that all the new first-years are going to love. Although,” She winked at him and Deuce felt himself blush vigorously. “You’re a pretty easy guy to love.” 

“Yeah?” He said, hoping she would ignore the way his voice cracked. 

“Yeah.” She gripped his lapels and pulled him down for a kiss. He wrapped his arms around her. Couldn’t they just stay like this? Did he really have what it took to go out there and give a welcome speech to all those new students?  Not to mention all the returning students who already knew him, all his mess ups and faults and imperfections. 

“Hey.” (Y/N)’s voice snapped him out of it. “You’re getting in your own head again. Everyone’s going to be able to see you just like I do.” She brushed a lock of hair away from his face. “Strong, kind, brave, the world’s best boyfriend. That part is just for me, though.” 

He sighed, dropping his head so their foreheads touched. “I’m glad you’re with me.” 

“I always will be.” 

“Maybe I can get one more kiss?” Deuce said shyly, feeling himself blush again. “For good luck.” 

She smiled up at him. “Sure, for luck.” 

Just as their lips were about to brush, the door slammed open. “What’s the hold up, Juice?” Ace said, storming in. “The first-years are getting antsy out there and - oh, I see.” He grinned wickedly and cocked an eyebrow. “Nevermind, this is much more important.” 

Deuce grabbed the scepter that came with the House Warden uniform. He pointed it at Ace, shouting, “Off with your head!” 

Ace cringed back, arms coming up to shield himself. When nothing happened, he looked up, annoyed.“Hey, that’s not your spell!” 

“No,” Deuce said, grinning. “But I can still whack you with this thing!” 

Deuce chased Ace out of the room, waving the scepter. As Ace dashed down the hall, Deuce felt (Y/N) slip her hand into his. She kissed his cheek. “Come on, House Warden,” She said. “There’s a whole school year waiting for us.” 

Cater

“We on in three, Cater,” The producer said. Cater gave a thumbs up, occupied by the makeup team readjusting his cover so his face didn’t shine under the lights on camera. Behind them, the Shaftland’s Glass Slipper Gala was starting up, celebrities of all ilk stepping out of limos to walk the red carpet and show off the cutting edge of fashion. 

Cater took one more swig of water, brushing invisible dust from his blazer jacket, and fixed his most dazzling smile. “Alright, ready when you are!” 

“Okay, get ready everyone!” The producer said, readjusting her earpiece. “We’re a go in 5, 4, 3…” She mouthed the last two numbers, pointing to Cater as a blinking red light turned on on the camera. 

“Welcome, Shaftlands!” Cater said into his handheld microphone, winking to the camera. “It’s your favorite pop culture and social media consultant, Cater! We’re here at the Glass Slipper Gala, the annual exhibition for all things gorgeous, over the top, and innovative! Let’s see who we can find on the red carpet.” 

Cater waved over a few celebrities, getting quotes that, the next day, would be plastered on the front cover of numerous magazines and social websites. People found it hard not to match his energy, smiling and laughing along. 

Cater had just waved off a rising movie star when he saw someone familiar from the corner of his eye. Weaving their way through the throngs of media, cameras, and various fans hoping to get a glimpse of their bias, (Y/N) gave Cater a little wave. She held up a tray with three cardboard to-go cups, the symbol of his favorite coffee shop emblazoned on the front. Cater cried with delight and beelined it for her. The producer started waving frantically as the cameraman followed his movement with a questioning look. 

“We have a super special treat for you, viewers!” Cater said. (Y/N) blinked in surprise as Cater slung an arm around her shoulder, pulling into a sideways hug. “My wonderful, adorable girlfriend is here! Say hi, sweetie!” 

“Umm, hi?” She held up the tray. “I thought you guys might need a break so I brought you a pick-me-up. A blond roast with three shots of vanilla and milk, green tea with half-and-half, and,” She picked up the last cup and handed it to Cater. “An iced chai latte, size medium but put into a large size so there’s room to mix in extra cinnamon, using oat milk instead of dairy, two pumps brown sugar syrup, one pump mocha syrup, two pumps cinnamon dolce syrup, three shots espresso, cinnamon dusting, and vanilla sweet cream foam.” 

“She even knows my order!” Cater swooned, putting the back of his hand to his forehead. “Viewers, have you ever seen a more perfect person in the whole wide world?”  

“Uh, Cater?” 

“Pretty, smart, and super sweet. What more could you ask for? Well, you all know I like things a little more spicy than sweet, but my girl has that in spades, too, just between us.”

“Should you really be saying this on air?” 

Cater shrugged. “They can edit it all out in post.” “Cater,” The producer said, deadpan. “We’re live right now.” 

(Y/N) gasped as Cater blinked, staring into the single black eye of the camera. The cameraman smiled and shrugged. 

“Oh, well then,” Cater said. In a second, his sparkling smile returned. “Then we should give them a show, right?” 

“Cater, wha-” 

Before she could say anything else, Cater plucked the coffee from (Y/N)’s hands, setting it gently on the ground with his microphone. He jumped back up, taking her into his arms in a low dip, kissing her amid a flurry of flashing lights. 

Trey

The bell above the door had been ringing constantly all day. The small storefront was full to bursting, children pressing their faces against the glass display case to point at every confection they wanted their parents to buy. Shop assistants in crisp mint green and white uniforms handed white boxes over the counter to eager hands. Two others maneuvered extra seating outside under an awning to help combat the surplus customers. 

A teen with emerald green hair escaped into the attached kitchen, taking a deep breath of relief. “Well, big brother,” He said. “I think it’s safe to say the grand re-opening is a success.” 

Trey chuckled from the counter, squeezing buttercream to swirl atop enough cupcakes to feed an army. After a fire halfway destroyed this family’s bakery several months ago, there had been talks of shutting down the business entirely and joining up with some of the bigger corporate shops in town. Trey had scrimped and saved and planned to recreate the shop to his own specifics, making sure to blend years upon years of Clover secret family recipes with his new creations. They were still constructing a new upper level for a specialty dining experience. Patrons would pay a flat sum for a pre-arranged dessert tasting menu set up like a full 6-course dinner, using cutting edge technology, foams and gelatin beads and liquid nitrogen ice cream and all the works. There was already a waiting list for reservations. 

“Uh, Chef?” Another worker poked their head through the door. “You have some people out here asking for you.” 

Trey smiled, whipping his hands on his apron. He quickly directed the other pastry chefs in the kitchen then headed out. The group of Heartslabyul graduates, plus Chenya, Grim, and (Y/N), had taken over one of the outside tables. Ace, Deuce, and Grim were competing to see who could fit more cupcakes into their mouth at once while Riddle chided them. Cater was rearranging his plate of mini-tarts, eclairs, and macarons to take the best pictures. Chenya was sneaking  treats off everyone’s plate while they were preoccupied. (Y/N) noticed Trey first, smiling wide and standing to meet him. 

“There’s the man of the hour,” She said, meeting him in a hug. 

“So, Trey,” Ace asked with a sly look. “How many free samples are we getting today?” 

“Didn’t you get enough when Trey was practicing his new recipes?” Riddle scoffed. 

“You can never get enough of Trey’s baking!” Grim cheered, taking a large bite of another cream puff as creme anglaise bursted all over his furry face. 

Riddle huffed at the display of bad manners before turning to Trey with a smile. “Congratulations are definitely in order. Everything is looking even better than you described.” 

“It was a lot of hard work,” Trey said. “I didn’t think we were going to make it a few times.” 

(Y/N) shoved him. “Oh, stop. You had perfect control the whole time. No one ever doubted you. Especially me.” She pulled him down for a kiss. 

“Bleh!” Grim stuck out his tongue. “Not when I’m eating!” 

(Y/N) smiled wickedly and pulled Trey down to pepper kisses all over his face. Grim, Ace, and Deuce made mocking sounds of disgust before bursting into laughter. 

As everyone refocused on their pastries, (Y/N) leaned over to whisper to Trey. “Should we tell them?” (Y/N) asked.  

“Not yet,” Trey said, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “I want to keep you to myself for a little while longer.” 

Behind their backs, the held hands, matching rings glinting in the light. 

Riddle

Riddle jerked awake at the feeling of hands on his shoulders. He heard an “Oh!” of surprise. A blanket slipped off his shoulders, pooling on the floor. He was sitting at a desk illuminated by a single lamp, the rest of the lights in the small bedroom turned off. Through the window blinds, he could see it was dark outside. He turned to the person behind him who had tried to drape the blanket over him. 

“Sorry,” (Y/N) said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” Riddle rubbed at his tired eyes, peeling off a loose leaf of notebook paper that was stuck to his cheek. He looked down at the mess of notes and textbooks littering his desk. “No, it’s a good thing,” He said. “I don’t have time for sleep right now. I need to study.” 

(Y/N) frowned at him. “You need sleep, Riddle. You won’t do yourself any good if you fall asleep in the middle of the bar exam.” 

Riddle turned back to his desk, rearranging various documents on magical law and court cases. “A good lawyer needs to be prepared for whatever is thrown at him.” “A good lawyer needs to be able to balance work and rest.” 

“I-” Riddle sighed. 

“At least let me make you some tea and take a break,” (Y/N) said, picking up the blanket and folding it over her arm.

Riddle yawned, blushing at how loud it was. “That’s… a good idea. Thank you.”  

(Y/N) smiled at him, leaning down to kiss his forehead before walking over to the tiny kitchen.

Riddle looked around. They were in a small studio apartment. Riddle’s desk was shoved to one side of the room, a bed on the opposite side, blankets thrown open as if someone had just gotten out. He saw his shoes next to the doorway, neatly arranged, next to (Y/N)’s. A slightly ajar closet door showed it was split between his formal attire and (Y/N)’s clothes. They had been living together for a while, it seemed. 

The bar exam was only a few days away. Five years of grueling school was all leading up to this moment. He��d heard too many stories about how it usually took two or three tries for most people to pass. He was determined to pass on the first try, to prove to himself, and maybe his mother, that he had made the right choice. In his career, in his life, in his partner… 

Riddle looked back at (Y/N) in the small connected kitchen, making sure she was busy with the tea. He opened the top drawer of his desk, just enough to peak inside. The box was still there, small black velvet, holding the ring inside. It was plain, just a simple silver band, polished to a shine by his own hand, but it was all he could afford. Originally, he had wanted to use his mother’s ring, the ring that had been passed down his family for generations, supposedly back to the time of the Queen of Hearts herself. But Riddle’s mother hardly approved of his chosen profession over going into the medical field, much less his partner. He remembered the screaming match they had had, how she was absolutely appalled Riddle would want to be associated with someone with no magic, no future as she put it, not to mention no family lineage to speak of. Riddle hadn’t spoken to her in quite some time. 

Riddle sighed, closing the drawer. (Y/N) had worked hard these past few years, supporting the two of them while Riddle focused on school. She’d always said it was no problem, that she was happy to work whatever odd job she could so Riddle could focus all his energy on his studies. The least he could do was make a name for himself as a lawyer, provide her with the life she deserved. 

She set a tea cup down in front of him. “Here,” She said. “With honey, not sugar.” Taking her own cup, she sat on the bed facing him. “And you’re not going to look at those notes again until you finish drinking it and talk to me.” 

Riddle picked up the cup, letting the warmth of the tea soak into his hands. He cast a glance at the drawer with its loaded secret within. 

“Actually,” He said. “There is something I’ve been wanting to ask you.” 

Leona

Leona ducked, sliding across the field as a Spelldrive disk hurdled over his head. Immediately, he was back on his feet, throwing up a magical shield as the disk crashed back towards him. 

The crowded stadium roared around him, stands packed to bursting. Fans wore team colors, red and gold for his Sunset Savannah team, the Lion Guard, and icy blue and white for the Shaftland’s team they were playing against, the Draugrs. 

“Captain!” A voice called behind him. Leona turned to see one of his teammates fly next to him on a broom. “You okay?” 

Leona brushed off the grass stain on his uniform. “I’m fine. We’re starting the new play, the one we practiced yesterday.”  

His teammate balked. “Are we ready for that? We’ve only practiced it a few times, and never in a game. There’s only a minute left on the clock!” 

“Then we’re running out of time!” Leona snarled. “We’re tied. This is our chance to take the game.”

The flying teammate saluted. “Sir, yes, sir!” He flew up, whistling a code to let the other players know to get in position. A few of them cast worried glances Leona’s way, but their trust in their team captain was obvious as they quickly fell into position. 

Leona fell back as the ground members of his team made an arrow shape ahead of the opposing player who currently held the disk. Suddenly, as the flier crossed the 20-yard line, they inverted. The two flanking the point of the arrow knelt in front of the player at the tip. He jumped to their waiting hands, being launched into the air. The player with the disk reared his broom back, not expecting a ground assault. The player who had been thrown in the air took the opportunistic distraction to claim the disk, hurdling it to a flier on the Sunset Savanna team. The flier took the disk, hovering it a foot from him with magic, and shot back to the opposing team’s goal. As the Draugr broom flying players closed in on him, he dropped the disk without warning, to the waiting hands of a ground player. The ground player dashed forward, dodging tackles from the opposing team. As they closed in on him, he tossed the disk back to a flier. This repeated twice more until the opposing team got used to the play. When another ground player got the disk, sprinting to the goal, all Shaftlands players were focused on the flier hovering above him. The ground player faked throwing the disk up and the opposing team jerked their focus upward. Instead, the ground player flung the disk to Leona’s waiting hands. In the seconds it took for the other team to recognize the play, Leona was already steps away from the goal. He flung the disk, boosted with his own magical energy, and it sailed cleanly through the opposing team’s hoop.

The crowd thundered around him as the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game. Leona took a deep breath, throwing his head back in a victorious roar. The rest of his team joined in, supporting their captain, whooping and cheering to their heart's content. 

The team gathered together, slapping each other on the back and jumping in congratulatory victory. A few of them cast sly looks Leona’s way, and before he could question it, he was soaked with an overturned cooler of bright green sports drink. They all laughed as he flung excess droplets at them. 

As the championship cup was brought out, Leona’s ears twitched as a sound. He turned and heard them repeat themselves. “Leona!” (Y/N) ran onto the field, smiling wide. She was wearing an old jersey of his, the one he had when he first joined the pro Spelldrive leagues. She waved her hand high over her head, the light catching on a topaz and diamond ring on her finger. 

He surged forward to meet her, wrapping her in a tight embrace and lifting her up. Without either of them noticing, a camera focused on their reunion, projecting their image on the jumbotron as they embraced and shared a victory kiss.

Jack

Jack held up a hand, stopping the rest of the search and rescue team following behind him. They were trekking up the North Mountain, a popular peak in the backlands in a Shaftlands national park. The snow was more than seven feet deep, and even with their specialized snow shoes they were starting to sink down. They were on the far side of the mountain, bright sunlight blazing across the snow that had been churned up from a recent avalanche. 

“What’s up, chief?” One of the rescue workers asked, readjusting his EMT pack on his shoulders. 

Jack’s ears twitched, trying to pick up the sound he was sure he had just heard. He turned back to his team. “This is the last place the skiers were seen. Everybody fan out to your lanes and start searching.” 

The group spread out, each taking a 40 meter lane as they walked downhill. Each member of the search and rescue team held a thermal meter reader, strong enough to pierce through the snow cover up to 15 meters down. They also inspected the snow for any other sign of disturbance, trying to see if anyone was moving underneath. 

Jack’s ears twitched again, picking up on the minute noise underneath him. He checked his reader, seeing an orange mass that was quickly turning blue. 

“Spotted, 35 meters!” He called out. He unfurled a long thin pole from his pack, carefully jabbing down into the snow. When he met resistance, he slung his pack off and put together his collapsible shovel. He started scooping snow away, flakes swirling up to stick against his eyelashes. Finally about three feet down, he saw a splash of a red coat. He widened his digging circle. “Victim found!” 

The most important thing at the moment was getting the buried person an airway. Jack heaved snow away, using his hands now so he wouldn’t accidentally injure the victim. He heard another one of the rescuers repeat his cry further down, “Victim found!” 

Jack could see the victim breathing, their breath melting a small indent around their nose and mouth. Jack ripped off his glove with his teeth, feeling for a pulse on their neck. It was faint, but it was there. He couldn’t see any visible wounds. The next most important part was getting them out of the snow while moving them as little as possible in case there were any internal or spine related injuries. 

Another rescuer came over to him. “My lane’s clear, sir. Can I help?” 

Jack nodded. “Go get the sled and stabilizing bands.” He saluted, making his way back up. Their team worked with dogsleds for evacuation in these parts, since it was generally less heavy than a snowmobile, and much quieter to avoid any other disruptions. 

Soon, the three missing skiers were loaded up in the sleds. Jack ran through his paramedic training in his head, making sure he and his team weren’t missing anything before they would head back to their base at the foot of the mountain. 

Arriving down, the team moved the victims, two of whom were coming back to consciousness, into a more comfortable and much warmer infirmary. The hospital in the nearby town had already been notified and was sending an ambulance to bring them back for further care. 

After making sure everyone was stable and the victims were being treated for any signs of hypothermia, Jack stepped into the mudroom attached to their rescue station, shaking his head and stomping his boots free from snow. 

“The ambulance will be here in about half an hour,” He heard behind him. He turned, seeing (Y/N) in the doorway, holding a steaming mug of pear tea. She wore a uniform similar to his, indicating they were part park ranger, part emergency rescue team. She smiled softly and handed it to him. “They said they had to take a different route around due to the avalanche. I guess it went farther than we thought.” 

Jack sipped the tea, letting the warmth infuse into his muscles. “Once we get these guys taken care of we’ll have to head back out, then. Try to take stock of any damage.” 

“The other teams have reported back already. Everyone’s been accounted for. Looks like your lot was in the worst shape. It’s a good thing they have you looking out for them, huh?” 

Jack looked away, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, we have a big team. Everyone’s doing their part.” 

“And you're the one who trained them. You’re the one who set up this whole search and rescue station. All those people there,” she waved in the direction of the treatment beds, the people pulled out of the snow, slowly warming themselves by the fireplace and with warm drinks. “Owe it all to you. You’re allowed to brag about it sometimes, you know.” 

Jack felt his face growing hot, tail starting to wag despite himself under her praise. “Well, maybe I just have a really good team.” 

(Y/N) hummed, standing on her tiptoes and reaching a hand up, threading through his short hair to pull his face down to her level. “And I wouldn’t want to be on any one else’s,” She murmured against his lips as they kissed. 

Ruggie

Politics were messy. Ruggie always knew that, but being here in the middle of it all showed him the full web of underhandedness, plotting, and secrets. But, as the Sunset Savannah’s royal family’s, or more directly Leona’s, personal spy master, that’s exactly what he was there for. 

Now, during his days at NRC, when Ruggie first started working as Leona’s unofficial personal assistant, lurking around, being a little more than underhanded in his dealings, did he ever expect he would one day be sneaking around an embassy in the middle of a grand party, planning on swiping some important documents that could reveal plots against the crown? No, of course not. But, man, was it still fun. 

As he slunk along the corridors, Ruggie eyed the attendance, each dripping with enough jewelry and finery to feed a family of four for a year. He inwardly sneered, hand shooting out to discreetly pocket a diamond bracelet some ambassador's wife, or more likely his mistress, was wearing.  But ill gotten treasure wasn’t what he was here for, at least, not today. 

Ruggie cut through a servant’s entrance, turning his coat inside out, turning it from red velvet of party goers to the matte black of the help. He thought it was too easy sometimes. People always saw what they wanted to see. Heading up to the upper floors of the embassy, he spied some hired goons waltzing around the room he needed to enter. Ruggie stayed as far back in the shadows as he could while tracking the one guard who stood a little too close to the stairs. 

“Laugh with me,” Ruggie murmured, casting his signature spell. He jerked his body to the side, causing the goon to stumble and crash down the stairs. To anyone else, it would have looked like he had too much to drink on the job, or had simply slipped. As the other guards were busy checking with their companion, Ruggie darted behind them, slipping into the room unseen. He made quick work, sniffing out the hidden safe, and picked the lock so easily he was almost afraid he was being set up. Securing the documents in the hidden pocket inside his jacket, Ruggie effortlessly slipped out the window, down the drive, and off into the night. 

Later that night, Ruggie shook off the rain as he stepped inside the lobby of Granny Bucchi’s Memorial Home for Lost Children. It was dark, everyone fast asleep upstairs. In the morning, all the children the Home housed would wake up, eat a hearty breakfast, one Ruggie could have only ever dreamed about at their age, and go to school in the attached building. Ruggie didn’t know exactly what strings Leona pulled to get such high class teachers for the Home, but he had learned long ago not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

As Ruggie was about to head up the stairs to the caretaker's quarters, he noticed the lamp light coming from the side sitting room. Ruggie carefully stalked over to the other room, careful to avoid the floor boards that squeaked. He peered in, the warm light of a floor lamp illuminating (Y/N) on a rocking chair, a toddler hyena beastman fast asleep on her chest. Ruggie leaned against the doorframe, smiling gently at the domestic scene. 

(Y/N) stirred, af if sensing being watched. She blinked sleepily, smiling up at him. “Welcome home,” She whispered. “Everything go well?” 

(Y/N) knew just enough about Ruggie’s work, but never pried. They both knew well enough that Ruggie would immediately spill any secrets if she fluttered her eyelashes and gave him one of those sweet smiles. “Flawless, as usual.” He stepped forward, taking the small boy from her arms. His ears twitched as he was passed between them but stayed asleep. 

“He’s finally been sleeping through the night,” (Y/N) said. “But he had a nightmare earlier. He wanted to wait for you to get home.” 

“Aww, A for effort.” 

They walked upstairs to the children’s dormitory rooms, settling the small boy in his bed and tucking the blankets over him. 

“They’re having their field day tomorrow,” (Y/N) said as they entered their shared room. She sat on the bed as Ruggie kicked off his shoes. “Will you be here? The kids always love to see you.” 

He flopped down on the bed next to her with a sigh, arms behind his head.  “Wouldn’t miss it! It’s amazing how much energy those kiddos have. You think we were ever like that?” 

“Me? No, probably not. I can see you zipping around everywhere, though.” 

“Oh, yeah, I was fleet footed. You gotta be quick to pick pockets, you know.” She halfheartedly punched him as he snickered. 

“Do you ever think-?” She stared before cutting herself off. 

“Only sometimes,” He joked. “I hear it’s a dangerous habit.” He waited for a moment then asked, “Think about what?” 

(Y/N) looked back in the direction of the children’s dormitory, each level for a set of age groups from the babies all the way to the teenagers. “You know, about having our own.” 

Azul

Azul flitted around the room, jumping from conversation to conversion, getting just enough of a word in to be memorable, to make a good impression. So far, this, the grand opening of the Mostro Lounge, was a success. More than a success, it had drawn all ilk of upper crust society. Politicians, celebrities, heirs and heiresses with nothing better to do but try and get their picture in the next tabloid. Horderves were being passed, champagne was being popped, and, subtly, between it all, waiters were gathering secrets and snips of conversations from their patrons. 

The Monstro Lounge worked on two fronts, both carefully cultivated and maintained. The first was the face, the elegant restaurant and tea room that welcomed guests to treat them with all the luxury of the world. The second was more nefarious, the dagger hidden behind the back. Important clientele meant important discussions, important secrets, and important dealings. Whether or not these things were entirely legal didn’t much matter to Azul, just so long as he was in on them. 

It was important that at least most of their patrons didn’t notice the dagger. It was better for them to let their guard down, enjoy their night of revelry and relaxation. And Azul, with his charming smile, silver tongue, and perfectly business-like attitude, acted as the perfect cover. 

Azul was mingling with a group of bankers when he felt a gentle hand clasp his arm. “Excuse me,” (Y/N) said. “I’m afraid I need to steal my fiance for a moment.” The bankers held up their glasses in a cheers as she led him away. She glittered in a black sequin dress, pearls at her throat. On her hand was a delicate pearl and pink coral ring, the coral arranged like flower petals around the pearl. 

“Is anything wrong, angelfish?” Azul asked as they strolled through the lobby. 

(Y/N) hummed. “Maybe I just wanted some time with you. I’m allowed to be selfish like that every once and a while, aren't I?” 

“Of course. I think I like when you’re selfish.” 

An ignorant observer might have commented that (Y/N) made quite the trophy on Azul’s arm, but those in the know were quick to correct any misconceptions. (Y/N) was just in touch with both sides of the Monstro Lounge as Azul, just as involved. If any of Azul’s more unscrupulous dealings or shady past came up, it was easy for one to dismiss pressing concerns. After all, look at his soon-to-be wife! (Y/N) was more than capable of smoothing over any worries or uneasy feelings. And, possibly more importantly, keeping some of Azul’s more underhanded ambitions  in check. 

“Zuzu!” Azul nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard his mother’s voice. (Y/N) took a skilled step back to allow room for Mrs. Ashengrotto to envelope Azul in the kind of hug only a proud mother could give. Of course, the hug was missing a few limbs since Mrs. Ashengrotto was currently in human form, but it was still just as tight. She kissed both his cheeks and, while Azul was always happy to see his mother and show off his accomplishments, he couldn’t help but cringe at how the act tainted the elegant and stern reputation he was building for himself. Releasing him, she turned to her soon-to-be daughter-in-law. (Y/N) accepted her hug with a little more grace, the benefit of seeing an affectionate attack coming. 

Azul readjusted his glasses, greeting his mother and step-father. “I’m glad you both were able to make it.” 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” His step-father said, giving him a firm handshake and warm pat on the back. 

His mother had started to tear up, (Y/N) patting her hand sympathetically. “Oh, my. My little Azul, all grown up. I remember when you were just a little fry, darting in your octopot at anything. Look how big my boy has gotten! Have you been eating well, Zuzu? You look so thin!” 

“Why don’t we grab a table?” (Y/N) neatly interjected. Azul cast her a grateful look and quickly waved a waiter over who brought the small group to a VIP section. An aquarium that took up the entire back wall cast elegant blue light over the private section. 

After the waiter took their drink order, Mrs. Ashengrotto laid her hands flat on the table, looking seriously at Azul and (Y/N). “Now,” She said. “When can I expect grandchildren?” 

Jade

“Anglerfish,” (Y/N) said. 

Jade grinned, turning back to her as he held his lantern high. “What was that?” 

“Nothing, nothing at all.” 

Jade smiled, looked down at (Y/N) as she zipped their tent closed. The cool spring night air swirled around them, moon bright and sky clear. 

While Jade mostly lived in the Coral Sea, studying with his parents to prepare to take over the family business, part of his heart would always remain up in the mountains. He’d published a book last year, Roots of the Earth: Flora, Fauna, and Folklore of the Bald Mountains, which had become a bestseller almost overnight. In depth discussions and depictions of dry land environments were apparently pretty popular underwater. His publisher had been eager for a follow up. Which led him here, camping in the Mount Moln mountain range, ready to set off on an overnight exploration. 

He didn’t, however, expect certain company. Not that he minded (Y/N)’s presence. Quite the opposite in fact. 

While she hadn’t been an official member of the Mountain Lovers club back at NRC, she had participated in a few hiking trips, whenever her schedule, or Crowley, would allow. They hadn’t seen much of each other in person since Jade graduated, but they did exchange correspondence regularly. Jade knew that (Y/N) kept up with everyone from NRC in a similar fashion, but couldn’t help hoping that his particular letters were a little special. At least, the ones he sent back to her were. 

When Jade had arrived in Harveston the day before his expedition, he was surprised to see her with the lilac haired Felmier family. (Y/N) had cried in delight and thrown her arms around him, making his heart speed up in a not unpleasant way. Over tea, (Y/N) had told him that she had mostly been jumping around Twisted Wonderland, still trying to find a more permanent place in a land she wasn't native to. With the apple planting season coming up, Epel’s family had offered a position, one she had eagerly accepted. And, when he slyly implied that he would need assistance traversing the mountain and keeping track of his gear and research, she had enthusiastically agreed. They both decided to ignore the knowing glances from Grandma Felmier. 

They had risen before the sun that next morning, beginning their trek up Mount Moln. While the weather was defiantly warming, small clumps of snow still stubbornly clung on the higher they climbed. They’d made camp early, with the sun still up, digging into warm soup the Felmier’s had prepared for them, before turning in. They knew they would be getting up in the middle of the night, so they tried to get as much sleep as possible beforehand. 

Which brought them back to the present, Jade sweeping his lantern across the trail with (Y/N) staying close behind. 

“So,” (Y/N) said. “Remind me what we’re looking for?” 

“Panellus pusillus,” Jade said. “Otherwise known as the little ping-pong bat mushroom.” 

(Y/N) snorted a laugh. “That’s pretty cute.” 

“They are bioluminescent. During the day they look like normal white fan-like mushrooms. But at night they glow beautifully. They wrap around tree branches so they often look like string lights. I’ve been wanting to take back a few samples for my project back in the Coral Sea.” 

“For your next book?” 

“That, and something else. I’ve been working on an underwater biome meant to replicate various ecosystems from the mountains I’ve traversed here on land. It would allow sea-dwellers a chance to experience environments they normally wouldn’t be exposed to. I’m still gathering funds, but I think it will be a fascinating experiment when completed.” 

“Sounds like a big undertaking.” 

“Definitely.” Jade cast a glance over his shoulder, meeting (Y/N)’s eyes. He quickly looked away again, holding the lantern out a little farther so (Y/N) wouldn’t notice the red tint to his cheeks. He only ever had to worry about that in human form. “I’ve actually been gathering a team to help me set everything up. Having someone native to land would provide a unique perspective. If you would be interested, after your work in the orchards here. I wouldn’t want to impose on any previous commitments.” 

“I don’t think you could impose on me even if you wanted to.” Jade stopped, turning around to fully face her. He watched (Y/N) gulp, readying herself, before she took a step forward. They were just a breath apart from each other now. Her hand reached out, stopping between them. “I - I’ve really missed you. I didn’t expect to this much, but then you showed back up and it kind of punched me in the gut all at once. Sorry, I feel like I’m not saying this the right way. But… I really missed you.” 

Jade let the silence sink in as his thoughts turned in his head. Crickets, owls, and other night creatures filled the air with their songs. (Y/N) looked down, shuffling her feet. Jade transferred his lantern to his other hand, reaching forward and taking hers. 

“My,” He said with a teasing grin. “This is certainly unexpected. Not unwelcome, of course. What would you do if I said I harbored similar feelings?” 

Underneath the soft glow of mushrooms overhead, (Y/N) stood on her toes and kissed him. 

Floyd

Suffice to say, most people were pretty surprised when Floyd decided to take an engineering course for the first leg of his NRC 4th year internship. With his happy-go-lucky and action-first personality, it was easy to forget that he was surprisingly good with technical skills. Even still, most people assumed he would get bored soon, skipping off to a more physically exciting internship for the next quarter. However, he stayed for the entire year. It definitely helped that the particular engineers he had partnered with specialized in roller coasters. 

And now, here he was, standing in the middle of a brand new theme park just a few weeks away from opening. When he had first approached Kalim for funding for his dream project he hadn’t expected much resistance. After all, both boys could appreciate a good time, whether from an over-the-top party or an exhilarating thrill ride. 

Floyd’s specific idea was for a theme park both land dwellers and merpeople could enjoy simultaneously. This led to the unique structure of Marine Canyon. The theme park was nestled perfectly in a natural canyon carved out thousands of years ago by glaciers. A slim river still ran through the canyon. Half the park was located in the canyon while the second half descended underneath the water of the sea the river emptied in. Guests would be able to easily traverse either side, either by assistance of underwater breathing potions, temporary form transformation potions, or a clever half-scuba half-submersible vehicle Floyd had designed when (Y/N) first met his parents.  

He stood with his hands on his hips, watching the cars roll along the track of one of the premier coasters in a test run. Everything was going perfectly. In a few days, Kalim would be coming out for the last run-through of testing and they would launch for a media day before officially opening the park. 

“Papa!” 

Floyd turned, wide smile getting even bigger. He crouched down, opening his arms, as one of his sons rushed to meet him. He swept Argonaut up in his arms, spinning him around as the boy cackled. He threw his arms around Floyd’s neck, waving at the two others approaching. (Y/N) waved back, walking over with their other son, Caspian. 

“Do we get to ride it now, Papa? Can we, can we?” Argo asked giddy, bouncing up and down. 

Cas cast a wary look up at the empty car plunging down the coaster track. “Can we go in the dark ride first? The pirate one?” 

Floyd ruffled his hair as (Y/N) answered, “We still have to wait for the safety checks to make sure everything is working properly.” 

“But,” Floyd told the twins. “The water park part is ready! And we need testers to make sure it’s fun for humans and mers. Do you know anyone who could help me with that?” 

“Me, me, me!” 

“We can do that! We’re human and mer!” 

The boys wiggled their ways out of their parents arms and dashed off, already kicking off their shoes in anticipation for changing from their dry land form to their eel-mer hybrid form. 

“Be careful running!” (Y/N) called after them. She sighed as Floyd came over, wrapping her in a backwards hug and resting his chin on the top of her head. “They really do like going between the land and sea. Do you think they have a favorite form?” 

Floyd hummed. “Don’t know. I like both of them. It’s just all different, you know? But they can use both their forms here. They can be with all their family and friends at the same time.” 

“Is that why you wanted to build it like this? You’re really kind, aren’t you?” 

Floyd grinned. “Only for Shrimpy and the guppies. Don’t let anyone else know, okay? I still have a reputation, you know.” 

(Y/N) poked his side. “Ooh, scary Floyd Leech, big bad family man. Don’t think I don’t remember you crying on the boys’ first day of school.” 

Floyd sniffed. “My guppies aren’t going to be guppies any more! What am I going to do when they get too big to carry, or when they go to NRC and we can’t see them everyday?” 

(Y/N) took his hand and started pulling him in the direction the boys had darted off in. “Then I guess we just need to make the most of the time we have with them now, right?” 

Floyd tightened his grip on her hand, smiling wickedly. “Or we could just make more guppies.”  

Kalim

“Mr. Al–Asim, I need your signature here, please.” 

“Mr. Al-Asim, when would you like to schedule our shareholder meeting?” 

“Mr. Al-Asim, I have those reports and next quarter’s budget for you to review.” 

Kalim was drained. While he was more than proud that he had managed to expand his family’s business to not only the sea but also the Briar Valley, he didn’t quite anticipate all the paperwork that would come with it. Now that Jamil was off leading his own life outside of the Asim influence, Kalim had taken on more responsibilities. Not that he wasn’t happy for Jamil, of course. He was thrilled when his friend told him of his plans after graduating NRC, even if those plans didn’t directly involve Kalim. Kalim was mostly just happy that Jamil seemed happy. But he did still miss Jamil’s presence, his guidance, how he always knew what to say. 

Kalim groaned, falling face first on his bed, not bothering to change clothes. Warm evening sun streamed in from the balcony windows, casting golden rays across the room. (Y/N) blinked at him from her side of the bed, sliding a bookmark in her book. She leaned over to him, gently petting his hair. 

“Rough day?” She asked. 

Kalim groaned again, twisting to catch (Y/N) in his arms so they crashed down together in a tangled hug. “There’s so much paperwork!” He lamented. “Why do we still even have so much paper? Isn’t it better for the environment if we use digital or something?” He sniffed, eyes watery. “Just think of all those birds whose trees we cut down.” 

“With great accomplishment comes great busy work,” (Y/N) nodded sagely. “It just shows how much so many people are relying on you.” 

“I guess,” Kamil muttered into her hair. He suddenly perked up. “Oh! I own the company, so maybe I can just tell everyone they have the day off tomorrow!” 

“Maybe, but then you and everyone else would just have a backlog of work when they come back.” 

Kalim face planted back onto the bed. (Y/N) regarded him for a moment before sliding out of bed. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Kalim gave a half-hearted thumbs up. 

As (Y/N) padded out of the room, Kalim kicked his shoes off, curling up on the bed. He grabbed her plush pillow, holding it to his chest. Hints of her fragrant shampoo still clung to it. 

Kalim didn’t think he could ever really express how grateful he was to have (Y/N) with him. Not only had she worked hard to repair his and Jamil’s relationship at NRC, but she gave him the in that helped him bring the Asim name to the Briar Valley in the first place. The land of night fairies was notoriously difficult to expand foreign trade to. But (Y/N) with her easy way of making friends and stubborn determination had given him the connections he needed to do something no other Asim had. He signed again, happily this time. It was just another reason he was so glad that she was going to marry him. 

(Y/N) nudged the door open with her hip. She carried a large silver tray holding a pot of spiced hot chocolate and several small plates with cake slices. “We still need to choose a wedding cake flavor,” She said. “Your mom has been asking me about finalizing details. We’re going to look at takchitas this weekend.” 

Kalim popped back up, a wave of fresh energy zipping through him. A party! This he could do. Not just any party, but possibly the most important party of his life! He and (Y/N) spent the next hour discussing wedding plans, colors and flowers and music. In between, they would eat bites of cake, chocolate, champagne strawberry, vanilla with raspberry filling, orange olive oil. At one point, Kalim smeared some frosting on his nose. At  her laughing, Kalim took a forkful of fluffy buttercream and painted it across her nose. They collapsed together in a giggling fit. 

“How about I come with you tomorrow?” (Y/N) asked. “I should start learning everything anyway. I want to be helpful to you.”

“You’re always helpful! Look, I'm feeling way better already!” 

“I think that might be the sugar rush.” 

As the sun set, the two of them lay together, crumbs of cake and the empty chocolate pot soon forgotten. As (Y/N) fell asleep in Kalim’s arms, he quietly said, “I can’t wait to be married to you, azizati.” 

Jamil

The air conditioning in the dance studio had gone out a few days ago and it quickly became sweltering with the aerobic activity. (Y/N) had drug in a large swiveling electric fan at some point that was working overtime to try and cool the room. Jamil whipped sweat off his forehead, watching the soon to debut idol group run through their routine again. Jamil had been working as the lead choreographer for Corona Talent for about a year now. While the agency was still relatively small, they were picking up preeminence, especially with their stylized music videos. 

“Figaro,” Jamil said to a cat beastman with black and white hair. “You need to work on controlling your tail. Having it flick around like that makes you look nervous. Sebastian, I know you’re still getting used to your land legs but remember to not lock up your knees, it makes you jerk and you’re more likely to fall. Let’s go back to just before the switch line and take it again.” 

While Jamil’s teaching style could easily be described as strict, no one could deny his results and the quick time in which he produced them. 

A little while later, and combating fears of overheating, Jamil called a water break. The group of boys formed a semicircle around the fan waiting for it to oscillate over their faces. Jamil watched them chat in benign amusement. They were about as old as he had been during the Song and Dance Championship at NRC. Jamil would never admit it, but he had recycled some of Vil’s methods during their training in the Ramshackle dorm. 

And speaking of NRC, his phone pinged. Jamil knew who it was before he even looked at the screen. 

Kalim: Jamil! I had an idea for the wedding! What if we have a grand entrance with you riding an elephant? 

Jamil: You know (Y/N) and I aren’t even engaged yet. 

Kalim: I’m planning ahead! It’s good to be ready. 

Jamil: No elephants. 

Kalim: What about peacocks? Or birds that warble on key? Or a tiger! 

Jamil: Do I even want to know where you’re getting these animals? 

Kalim: ~Secret~ 

Jamil laughed under his breath. Ever since he and (Y/N) had started dating during her last year at NRC, Kalim had basically been planning their wedding. When he had given Jamil two tickets on a week-long river cruise for his birthday last year he had called it a pre-honeymoon. 

And speaking of…

Jamil’s phone pinged again with a video attachment from (Y/N). The video showed (Y/N) next to a perch with a red and green macaw parrot. “Come on, Alfie,” (Y/N) prompted. “Show Dad your new trick.” 

The parrot tilted his head to think for a moment before tilting to the side and raising a claw in a wave. “Love Dad!” It croaked. He then started vocalizing to the tune of one of the first songs Jamil choreographed for, bobbing his head and side stepping. (Y/N) hummed along, nodding encouragingly. The macaw stretched his wings wide and gave a victorious cry. 

“Good job, Alfie!” (Y/N) praised, giving him a treat. Alfie shuffled onto her shoulder, nibbling the treat. “See you soon, Jamil. Love you.” (Y/N) blew a kiss to the screen, Alfie mimicking the sound. The video ended on a still frame of (Y/N)’s smiling face. Jamile smiled, content. Warmth, having nothing to do with the heat of the studio, filling his chest. 

“Ooh,” One of the idol’s said, wiggling his eyebrows in Jamil’s direction. “Was that your girlfriend, Coach?” The other boys cooed and whooping in good natured teasing. 

“Alright, Sven,” Jamil said, standing back up. “You just earned everyone another round of drills. Come on, on your marks.” 

The boys groaned, taking their places. As they began stretching and doing calf raises, Jamil texted Kalim. 

Jamil: Do you still have that jeweler’s number? 

Kalim: :D

Vil

Vil double checked his lipstick in a compact mirror from the backseat of the limo. His eyes cut across the back cab to (Y/N) fiddling with the hem of her dress. “Stop fidgeting,” He said. “You’ll wrinkle your dress.” 

(Y/N) jumped, smoothing her dress. “Sorry, just nervous, I guess.” 

“Nerves cause wrinkles, too. Besides, there’s nothing to fret over. Star Crossed is destined to be a hit.” 

Star Crossed was to be Vil’s first directorial debut, with (Y/N) taking a lead writing role for the script. The idea had come when the two had been discussing media back from (Y/N)’s world during one of Vil’s photoshoots. (Y/N) had been acting as somewhat of an unofficial assistant then. Although, and Vil would never admit this, he more just wanted an excuse to have her around. As they talked, (Y/N) made references to classic story ideas shared between both worlds, focusing on ideas of forbidden love. She gave a lyrical and poetic soliloquy, one that Vil immediately latched on to. She explained it was from a play called Romeo and Juliet, one of the most famous plays in her world and a story that had been retold countless times. She said it was standard school curriculum in her world and had memorized several passages for homework. Canceling the very hard to get dinner reservations the two had, they instead worked deep into the night, reworking the romantic tragedy between their two world’s cultural differences, writing the first draft of what would end up becoming Star Crossed. 

“What if they don’t like the ending?” (Y/N) worried. 

“Then they’re fools with no sense of depth.” 

“But won’t that look bad for you? I don’t want a box office bomb to affect your career.” 

“I assure you, nothing I’m associated with could bomb.” Although Vil wasn’t in the starring role for this film, instead preferring to focus on directing, he did keep a cameo as the rewritten Prince of Veronia, now the Prince of Fleur City. 

“We kept a lot of the traditional language,” (Y/N) continued as if she hadn’t heard Vil. She looked out the window, the tall buildings and bustling crowds as they got closer to the theater. “Not word for word of the monologue, but still. You don’t think it was too old-fashioned or metaphorical?”

“Sweet potato, we’re going to the premier, you know. It’s a little late to be thinking about rewrites.” 

(Y/N) sighed again, flattening her hands against her lap. “Yeah, you're right. The costumes were amazing, though.” 

“That’s thanks to you as well, you know. Professor Crewel wouldn’t be willing to design for just anyone.” 

(Y/N) smiled weakly. She fidgeted in her seat. She switched sides to sit next to Vil instead of across from him. He raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow but didn’t say anything. 

“Vil,” She said, choosing her words carefully. “I really liked working with you on this.” 

“Well, you’re not the worst person to collaborate with either, (Y/N).” 

“Would you want to, I mean, maybe later if you don’t have other projects already lined up, do you want to work together again? I mean, there’s a ton of Shakespeare plays. I don’t know all of them by heart or anything, but I know a good couple. Hamlet is dramatic with political intrigue, Much Ado About Nothing is a romantic comedy, A Midsummer Night’s Dream is another romantic comedy with magic and everyone falling in love with the wrong person, well, that one has fairies so I don’t want to offend anyone or anything, oh, and Macbeth is all dark about going mad with power - people said it was cursed back in my world even if we didn’t have real curses, it was just something people said, you know, but I was also thinking maybe we could do others like Pride and Prejudice or if you want to do something completely different there’s this series called Star Wars that-” 

Vil abruptly cut off (Y/N)’s ramblings with a kiss. There, in the back of the limo, it was just the two of them, alone in the world. No fans, no expectations, no competitions. Just them, and a warm growing feeling between them. 

Vil pulled back, taking a moment to appreciate (Y/N)’s dazed face and bewildered smile. “I would love to work with you again, (Y/N). I’m not sure I would ever want to work with anyone else. Come, we’re here.” 

An attendant opened the door of their limo, the roar of fans and flashing lights breaking the stillness on the cab. Vil stepped out in one graceful movement, lifting a hand in greeting. A red carpet stretched out before them, littered with other actors from the movie or celebrities there to give support. Vil leaned back, offering (Y/N) his hand. She stepped out of the cab, blinking at the sudden lights.

Vil tucked her arm through his, whispering, “Stick with me. I’m certain we can get through anything together.” 

Rook

Rook flicked on his flashlight, illuminating the cavernous chamber. His team of archaeologists and researchers followed behind him, sliding down a rope through a ventilation shaft into the long buried and forgotten temple underneath an old gnarled tree. 

“Is it what you thought it was, Hunt?” A fellow archaeologist asked him, shining her own light around the foreboding space. 

“I’m not sure yet,” He replied. “But I think… Ah ha!” Rook cheered, bounding over to the far wall. He took out his magical pen, casting a fire spell into a trough of dark liquid that ran the perimeter of the chamber. It caught alight, flooding the room to showcase the detailed carvings and relief work decorated on the walls. The team gasped, immediately taking detailed notes of the pictographs and images. Carvings of mermaids in a grotto, a pirate ship looming off the coast of a tropical island, and what appeared to be a flying boy with his arms outstretched were just a few of the designs that had been painted and carved on the walls millennium ago. 

“Magnifique!” Rook breathed in awe. “The Temple of the Second Star! Just as we thought!” 

“Just as you thought, sir,” A stoat beast-man researched said. “Your instincts were spot on again.” 

Rook preened but brushed off the comment. “Non, non, we’ve all put so much work into this discovery. You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished, n’est-ce pas? But, we’ve only begun our exploration. There’s something very important here I need to find.” 

“Is that safe, sir?” The archaeologist asked him. “We haven’t mapped anything out yet, who knows what it’s like down there?” She nodded her head to a dark doorway leading further into the temple. 

“Ah, but what is our profession without the allure of danger? Allons-y!” Leaving the others to their detail oriented inspection, Rook bound down the adjoining hall into the depths of the temple. 

Rook traveled down the halls, stopping only briefly to poke his head in adjoining rooms, none of which held what he was looking for. He paused every so often, checking a trap or pitfall that had been left how many hundreds of years ago. Finally, he came to a split in the corridors. 

“Hmm,” He muttered to himself. “I believe it was… Second star to the right.” He chose the right passage. 

The passage led him to a large stone door, once more inlaid with gem studded pictographs. “Ah,” he said. “A clever lock. Let’s see if I’m more clever.” He looked closely at the depictions. A group of four children flying over a cityscape, a towering clock with a large round face, a sun and moon arranged on either side, and, of course, the signature stars. He noticed several of the gem motifs could be moved. He suspected the right one would unlock the door, while the others might lead to disaster. And, as thrilled as he was to see what kind of disaster it could be, he was on a mission. “Second star to the right,” He said to himself again. “And straight on till morning!” He adjusted the hour hand on the clock face, changing it from pointing at the moon to the sun. A mechanism groaned and the door slowly fell open. 

He swished his flashlights around the chamber. It was littered with jars upon jars on a sparkling yellow dust. He tapped the glass on one of the jars, feeling lighter, his hair floating around him. And, while this was a fascinating discovery, and he would definitely have to report back to the Roi de Dragons that their study of ancient fairy lore had been a success, there was something more valuable than pixie dust he was after. There, in the center of the room, was exactly what he was looking for. An acorn and thimble dangling off a delicate chain - the ancient symbols of a pure kiss. 

As Rook turned to confront the mechanical crocodile that had emerged from its hiding place, a clock ticking in its chest, he tucked the treasure into his pocket. He shrugged his bow from his shoulder, knocking an arrow, thinking about how beautiful the necklace would look on (Y/N) when he proposed to her. 

Epel

Epel undid his tie for the third time. Nothing was looking right. Should he keep his hair up like this, in a high ponytail that cascaded down his back? Was his suit not fitting right, stretching over muscles he had worked so hard for so long for? 

That was one thing directors loved about him, how he could flip from appearing sweet and docile to ablaze with righteous fury in a second. It helped boost his popularity at the box office, his latest action movie breaking records. But that limelight also came with its drawbacks. Like how today, possibly one of the most important days of his entire life, Epel had been distracted with checking with security at every odd occurrence. They had already kicked out a couple of unscrupulous paparazzi the other day. Epel was glad he was back in Harveston for something so monumental, surrounded by his family, but he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at the strain he was putting them all through. But they would always wave him off with smiles, saying that it was the least they could do for all the publicity he had brought to their farms. And besides, what was family for, if not to lend a hand on your wedding day? 

There was a knock and the door opened before Epel could reply. Vil stepped in, checking a clipboard with a meticulously maintained schedule. “The cake finally got here, thank the Seven,” he said. “Everyone’s taking their seat. I knew people would be late - that’s why you put the ceremony time on the invitation a half hour before you actually want it to start. Now we just need to-” He stopped, looking up, and glared at the cloth around Epel’s neck like he had glared at Epel himself so many times during their NRC days. Vil sighed, setting the clipboard down and pulling at Epel’s tie. “Honestly, have none of my lessons stuck with you?” 

Epel felt a momentary sense of pride against the scolding as Vil had to look up to speak with him. “Nothing looked right,” He said. “I wanted it to, you know, look right.” 

Vil hummed. “Are you sure that’s what this is about?” Epel didn’t reply. “You’re not getting cold feet, are you? I’ve never known you to be one who runs away from problems.” 

“No, never!” 

Vil gave a final tug on the eldredge knot. “Well, that’s the only thing that matters, isn’t  it?” He gave one of his rare sincere smiles. “And she chose you, Epel. Remember that.” 

Epel shrugged. “It’s a lot to live up to.” 

“And you’ll rush to meet those expectations with flying colors. Now hurry up, we have a schedule to keep.” 

They had set the ceremony space in the middle of the apple orchard. Soft pink apple blossom petals swirled around the air, beautiful organic confetti cascading over each guest as they took their seat in the circular audience. Epel looked around, smiling back at friends and family beaming at him. His mother hadn’t stopped crying happy tears since before breakfast that morning. His grandmother reached out and squeezed his hand as he walked past. 

A group of local boys had been recruited to play music for the wedding. As Epel took his spot under the flowery arch up front, they began playing. Epel felt his heart thundering in his chest, jumping like a jackrabbit. He felt more nervous now than he did at his first premier. 

Everyone stood, looking towards the back of the aisle as the bride started to walk down, billowing white dress, cascading flower bouquet, lace veil covering her face. It felt like forever, Epel transfixed. She stepped up to the alter and Epel gently lifted the veil away from her face. (Y/N) smiled up at him. 

“Dearly beloved,” The officiant started. Before he could get another word in, Epel surged forward, kissing his bride. (Y/N) started laughing, wrapping her arms around him to return the kiss. 

“Hey!” Vil called jovially from the crowd. “You’re ahead of schedule!”  

Idia

Idia was curled  up on the couch, the room dark, light from the three computer screens in front of him illuminating the space and searing his eyes. He chewed on his bottom lip, writing code only to immediately delete it. 

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. Blinking away dark spots in his vision, he glanced over at the left computer screen where he had taped a photo of Ortho and their parents. Ortho was wearing a director’s coat, showing off for the camera. Idia smiled, straightening the photo. At the time, when Ortho had volunteered for the position of S.T.Y.X. junior director in Idia’s place, Idia didn’t expect the rush of relief that swept through him. It had been about a year so far and the two brothers talked almost every night, Ortho regaling him with stories of new advancements and studies they had made, his enthusiasm peaked in every word. 

But what Idia hadn’t expected was the sudden sense of helplessness, like he’d been cut free of some invisible tether. He’d just hang around for a while, working in this tech company, that cyber security industry, before he got bored. He was able to improve every company by leaps and bounds before deciding to drop it and head somewhere else whenever the mood took him. A few military weapons companies had tried to recruit him, but he’d swiftly rejected their offers. 

Eventually, a small group of eager indie video game developers had reached out in an email he had almost deleted without reading. He knew a few of the names from discussion boards on Star Rogue fan sites. They asked if he had wanted to join them for a new project and, having nothing else pressingly important going on, he’d agreed. Soon, however, he’d found himself absolutely engrossed with the game, bringing in more money and resources than any of the other teams members had ever seen for a similar project. 

And now, here he was. Stuck. The team couldn’t figure out their next steps, couldn’t solve problems with the set up and coding. They had hit a wall. Idia had hit a wall. 

He heard movement from the bed behind him, a sigh of someone waking up. “Idia?” A sleep addled voice called. He didn’t move, fingers clacking on the keyboard. He heard movement behind him, getting out of bed and dragging the blankets with them. 

(Y/N) tumbled onto the couch next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. “You said you were going to come to bed like,” She squinted at the clock. “Four hours ago. Idia! You need sleep!” 

“Want to get this done,” He mumbled back. 

“It’ll still be there in the morning.” 

“I have to work on it now or I’ll lose momentum.” 

“You’ll lose your eyes if you keep working in the dark like this. And I like your eyes. And your hair. And your smile. And your-” 

“This code is a total mess. It’s full of redundancies. There’s an explote here that would basically make you able to walk through any wall no problem. And they’re focused too much on feature creep, it’s like they want to add a cool new gimmick every day. Like, yeah, connecting to the microphone during the stealth section so if the player is loud the enemies can find them easier is cool, but it’s only in that one part of the game and it’s making a whole bunch of unnecessary complications. Or there’s this part with the poisoning spell basically breaks the game if you unlock it too early. Or this part with the character modeling where-” 

“Idia!” Idia startled, blinking at (Y/N). “Your girlfriend is asking you to come to bed with her.” 

Idia’s hair immediately burned bright pink. “Oh, yeah, okay.” 

Silver

Silver rolled his shoulders, adjusting the weight of his heavy armor. He was in a tent, getting ready for his bout of jousting for an annual tournament in the Briar Valley. This wasn’t the first tournament he’d participated in, of course, but there was always a nervousness that built up in his stomach, an eagerness to prove himself as worthy of being Malleus’s retainer, Lillia’s son, a loyal knight of the fae kingdom. 

“Knock, knock.” He turned to the front flaps of the tent. (Y/N) pulled aside one of the flaps, sticking her head inside. “Sorry, there’s not really a place to actually knock or ring a bell or anything…” She cleared her throat, stepping inside. She wore a traditional Briar Valley dress. “Wow,” She breathed, taking in Silver in his armor. “You look like a real knight! Not that you aren’t, usually, I mean. It’s just really formal now I guess. I’ve been able to see everything from up in the royal viewing box with Hornton and Lillia. It’s great watching you and Sebek, competing and everything. It’s like a whole Renaissance fair out there.” 

Silver set down his helmet. “Is that something from your world?”

She nodded. “I’ll have to tell you about it some time. They were always fun.” She looked away nervously, trying to find the right words to say. “There was this kind of tradition, at the Renaissance fairs, for knights. I think it went back to medieval history in my world. I was hoping you could help me with it.” 

“Of course,” Silver said. He took a step forward, closing the distance between them, gently reaching out to take her elbow and turn her back to him. They were so close their bodies nearly brushed each other. “Whatever you need.” 

She hesitated for another second before reaching up and pulling a ribbon out of her hair. He noticed it was (favorite color) instead of a matching shade to her outfit. “When knights would go for tournaments, they would wear a token or flag from their partner. It’s for good luck or something.” She twisted the ribbon around her fingers, not meeting his eyes. “I was hoping…” 

Silver untangled the ribbon from her hands, tying it around his forearm. He felt a swell of pride at how it stood out from his armor, gently waving in the breeze. “I’d be honored,” He said. “To wear your token.” 

(Y/N)’s eyes lit up, a smile blossoming on her face. “Okay, yeah, sure, of course! I’m glad you like it.” She pressed her lips together, considering something, before adding. “Would it be okay if I gave you another token? For good luck. Not that you need it or anything, you’re going to be great.” 

Silver smiled at her nervous deflection. “I’d love anything from you.” 

(Y/N) looked around nervously again, fiddling with her fingers. Just as Silver was about to speak, she reached up, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and pulled him down for a kiss. 

Lilia

Lilia leaned against the railing of the barge, watching the glowing red lanterns float gently above the river, their reflections casting ruby ghosts against the dark water below. The Floating Lantern Festival in the Land of Red Dragons never failed to excite, but this year was especially memorable. 

“It’s even more beautiful that you describe it,” (Y/N) breathed in awe next to him, stretching out over the barge railing to take in every sight and sound around them. Her eyes trailed the parade along the banks of the river, party goers dressed in red hanfu carrying more lanterns and a long red paper dragon on tall sticks. 

“The best stories are the ones you experience in person,” He said. 

They’d been traveling together for a while now, by boat, by train, on foot, exploring the whole world. (Y/N) had always been bothered that she had no frame of reference for the world of Twisted Wonderland, no practical understanding of its cultures and countries. Lilia tried to alleviate some of her frustrations with stories about his numerous travels before finally deciding a more hands-on presentation would be a better fit. 

Lilia snuck up behind her as she marveled at the lanterns drifting into the night sky. He suddenly grabbed her shoulders, as if to push her off. She gasped and turned to give him a halfhearted glare as he laughed. 

“Well?” Lilia asked. “Do you feel more prepared to conquer the world now?” 

(Y/N) frowned. The Land of Red Dragons was meant to be the last stop on their tour. (Y/N) had said she had no real plan for after the journey. While the multitude of friends she had made during her years in school were more than happy to lend her a place to stay during their travels, (Y/N) had confided in Lilia that she felt like she was taking advantage of their good nature if she lingered to long, without finding work or direction in this strange world. Maybe she would return to NRC to see if Crowley had any work for her? (He always did.) 

“I mean, I suppose?” She said. “Everything has been so wonderful. It’s almost a shame to be stuck in one place after all this.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “I can see why you like moving around so much.” 

Lilia hummed, leaning back against the railing. He turned, considering (Y/N)’s profile, lit against the red glow of the lanterns. He felt himself pause, lost in the marvel of her eyes, full of delight and wonder at everything around them. There was a strange stirring in his chest, one he had experienced multiple times over their journey together, a feeling he hadn’t had in almost 500 years. 

Lilia shook his head, trying to reign his focus back in. “You know,” He said, casually. “I’ll be heading back out again soon. Malleus came up with the idea of sending out ambassadors from the Briar Valley, trying to strengthen relationships between fairies and the rest of the world.” 

(Y/N) nodded. “That seems like something he would do. You’re going to be the first one, then? It seems like a good job for you.” 

“Not necessarily the first.” (Y/N) turned to look at him and Lilia felt himself squirm under her direct gaze. Goodness, he would have thought he was a lovestruck teen of 200 years by the way he was acting. “I proposed that you should join me as an ambassador. I thought it might make things easier, having a fellow human to represent dual interests. And, I must admit,” He purposely looked away. “I’ve grown fond of our time together.” 

When (Y/N) didn’t reply he looked back at her. She was smiling up at him and he felt his heart stutter. “I’d like that a lot,” She finally said. Which part she didn’t specify. He didn’t need her to. 

As they watched the lantern festival continue around them, their hands slid together on the railing, fingers entwining.  

Sebek

Sebek’s heart was beating a mile a minute. He knelt in front of Malleus, in the grand throne room, crowds of nobles eagerly watching his knighting ceremony.  

Malleus, regal sword in hand, stood over him. “Sebek Zigvolt,” He said, voice echoing around the chamber. “Do you so solemnly swear to uphold the code of knightly honor, to defend the Briar Valley with all your might, your will, and your faithfulness?” “I do,” Sebek replied, trying to keep his voice to a reasonable volume, not letting his giddiness shine through. 

“Do you so solemnly swear to serve your king and country and never waver from your duty?” 

“I do.” 

“And do you so solemnly swear to be truthful to yourself, loyal to your loved ones, and show bravery in the face of doubt and fear?”

“I do!” 

Malleus smiled down at his friend, pride for his retainer crinkling the corners of his eyes.  “Then, as rightful king and ruler of the land of night fae and the Briar Valley, I hereby dub thee, Sebek Zigvolt, high knight and warrior to the crown.” Malleus lowered his sword against Sebek’s shoulders and the crown of his head. “Stand and receive your blessing.” 

Sebek stood, fist thumbing against his chest. Cheers started up from the assembly. Happy tears pricked the corners of Sebek’s eyes, his smile wide as he tried to keep a serious face for the occasion. 

After the ceremony, everyone congregated in one of the grand ballrooms of the palace. Sebek stood with his mother, father, and grandfather. His mother was flitting over him, brushing away an invisible speck of dust every other second. 

“My darling boy!” She cried. “Look how big you’ve gotten! Oh, you’re so official now! Dear, what happened to our little Sebek?” 

“You’ve done a lot of hard work, Sebek,” He father said, nodding proudly. “You should be proud of everything you’ve accomplished.” 

“Of course he’s proud,” His grandfather scoffed. “He’s a Zigvolt! Greatness and duty is embedded in our history!” 

His mother rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, Papa, so you’ve said many times.” Her eyes cut behind Sebek, smiling and taking hold of either of the two men’s arms. “Well, we wouldn’t want to monopolize your time, Sebek. There are many people who want to congratulate you, after all. Come along, dear, Papa!” Ignoring their protests, his mother dragged them away. 

As Sebek waved in a confused good-bye, he felt a thump on his back. “Look at you!” He heard a familiar voice say. “So do I have to call you Sir Zigvolt now or something?” Sebek turned to see (Y/N) beaming up at him. It was surprising enough to see her here, but Sebek’s breath caught in his throat as he saw her dress. Zigvolt colors. She was wearing Zigvolt house colors. 

“H-hum- Er, (Y/N)? What are you doing here?” 

“Horton invited me! Or, I guess I should say King Malleus here, shouldn’t I? Well, either way, he told me you were having your official knighting ceremony. And I got a letter from your mom, too! She thought it would be a fun surprise to have your friends from school show up to support you.” She indicated one of the banquet tables across the room. Sebek saw Grim, Ace, Deuce, Jack, Ortho, and Epel milling around, all dressed in their own formal wear, catching questioning glances from the various fae knights and nobles. 

But they weren’t wearing his house colors. So why was she? And why did it make his heart thrum like that? 

A band started up, couples taking their places along the dance floor. “Ah, would  you…?” Sebek felt like he could’t find the right words. He couldn’t understand why he was suddenly falling all over himself like this. 

(Y/N) clasped his hands in hers. “I’d love to dance! I might not know all the steps, since this seems pretty fancy and formal, but you’ll just have to show me, okay?” Sebek nodded stiffly as she pulled him to the dance floor. 

Sebek took one of her hands in his, his other settling on her waist. He felt it burn with the contact. As he swept her along the floor, he finally said, “Your dress…” But couldn’t manage to finish, his thoughts tumbling around. Had it really been so long since graduation? Since he had last seen her? Sure, they had written multiple times, he kept up correspondence with many NRC alumni, but how had she changed this much since then? Had her eyes always shined that way? Was her hair that beautiful? Was her smile that dazzling? 

“Oh, your mom lent it to me,” She said. “I didn’t have anything that would fit, so she lent me one of her old ones. Although with all the adjustments I think it might just be mine now. Do you like it?” 

“You look like a Zigvolt,” He said. 

“Oh.” She seemed surprised at that, heat rising to her face. They turned around the floor a few more times. “You know, you’ll be seeing a lot more of me soon.”

Sebek felt his heart flip. “I’ll have to put up with you more, you mean.” 

(Y/N) stifled a laugh and gently hit his chest. “Rude. I mean Horton offered me a position here. Ambassador for human and fairy relations. I’m not totally sure what it will be like next, but he’s given me a townhouse just next door. It’s near your parents, I think. So, you know, I’ll be around. If you ever want to see me or anything. Or I guess if I want to see you, I’ll know where to come to bug you.” She laughed awkwardly. 

Sebek unconsciously tightened his grip on her hand. “I think I wouldn’t mind that. It’s a knight’s duty to look after those he cares about, after all.” 

Malleus 

Malleus turned over in his bed, hands crumpling the sheets next to him. He was in his chambers back in the palace in the Briar Valley. The bed next to him was cold. Cool dawn light was just beginning to spill through his window behind the heavy velvet curtains. 

The dreaming Malleus, the one all too aware this was a premonition of a possible future, sighed. He had completed this potion many times, both at NRC and in his private education in the Briar Valley. And, no matter how many times he drunk the noctious concoction, his future always remained the same. A lonely bedchamber, government work, fawning lords and ladies vying for his favor. If he was lucky, he would get to interact with Lilia, Silver, or Sebek. Although he dreaded the times when he could clearly see age lining their faces while he remained the same. 

The door to his chamber creaked ever so slightly. Someone was entering. The dream Malleus, the one projected in this future vision, tensed in his bed. The dreaming Malleus, forced to watch everything unfurl, was confused. Was this some sort of half-baked assassination attempt? Had relations between the country of fae and the rest of the world degraded to such an extent under his reign? Was he destanted to watch his own death? 

The dream Malleus closed his eyes. There was a sound of soft padding feet, a giggle, then a sharp hush. The intruders were right next to him now. 

“Ready?” A voice whispered, familiar but changed with time. “One, two, three…” 

“Happy birthday, Papa!” 

The dream Malleus opened his eyes, a slow and easy smile crossing his face. The curtains were thrown open, revealing the three young boys standing at his bedside, rosy cheeked, green eyed, and horns curling up from their ebony locks. One of them held a plate stacked high with pancakes, dripping with strawberry syrup. Another held a party popper, which he pulled releasing a torrent of confetti and ribbons. The third held a paper card tightly in his hands, his grip causing it to crumple at the edges. 

“Did we wake you up, Papa?” The boy with the card asked in a concerned voice, pouting. 

Malleus smiled, sitting up in bed as the young boys climbed up to sit around him. “Not at all, Grimwald. What’s that you have there?” 

Grimwald shyly held the card out. Malleus gently pried it from his fingers. It was obviously homemade, colored pencil drawings of a family of five holding hands across the cover, four with Darconia horns crowning their heads. He opened the card. There was a large birthday cake drawing inside, with the words ‘Happy Birthday!’ in large blocky lettering above it. Around the cake, the artists had scribbled their names: Grimwald, Lilianos, and Malachite. 

“They wanted to surprise you,” A soft voice said. Malleus, both in and out of the dream, felt his heart skip a beat as (Y/N) came around the bed. She sat down at the edge, catching the plate of pancakes from Malachite so they wouldn’t splatter on the floor. She turned to him, carding her fingers through his hair, and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. “Good morning, Horton. Happy birthday.” 

“We made them ourselves!” Malachite proudly proclaimed. “Grandpa Lilia showed me how!” 

“Don’t worry,” (Y/N) whispered to him. “I supervised.” 

“Do you have to work today, Papa?” Lilianos asked. “You can’t ‘cause it’s your birthday, right? You have to stay and play with us today.” 

Malleus gathered his boys together so they all fit on the bed. “Birthdays are family days. I’d love nothing more than to spend the entire day hearing about  how you’ve been terrorizing the palace.” 

“Oh, oh!” Malachite called, hand shooting up. “I breathed fire and it burned up the curtains in the grand dining room!” 

(Y/N) looked at him sideways. “On accident, right?” 

Malachite blushed. “Yes, Mama.” 

“Can we go watch the knights train?” Lilianos asked. “Uncle Sebek and Uncle Silver said they would teach us to ride a horse!” 

“Why would you want to ride a horse when you can fly?” Malachite said, spreading his arms wide. 

“I want to go to the menagerie,” Grimwald added. They began to talk over each other, making plans for their father’s birthday without his input. 

Malleus smiled, watching his family. He turned back to (Y/N). She smiled at him, as glorious and warm as the sun after a year of frozen nights. He reached up, cupping her face, and brought her close. 

“I always knew my future would bring me to you.”