#teal curtains for living room

[michelle-anadytop]

Modern Teal Blue Geometric Kitchen Curtains For Sale

These teal blue curtains are pretty, good quality, keep the light out well, can be customized without any extra fee, you can hang them in any room, bring you fine decor, look great & feel great.

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[sobekc]

at home and being reminded of how much I love my room

[kittycatfailcat]

Formal Living Room

Living room - mid-sized contemporary formal and open concept light wood floor living room idea with white walls, no tv, a stone fireplace and a standard fireplace

[dailypolnareff]

Music Room Living Room Dallas Small transitional open concept dark wood floor and brown floor living room photo with a music area, blue walls and no tv

[ihavethedreamies]

Stupid | Wooyoung

Jung Wooyoung - ATEEZ)

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~10.3k

Pairing: Wooyoung x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Actual Plot, Fluff, Angst, Smut, Friends-to-Lovers, Comfort

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Caution: The angst in this story is more familial based. There are mentions of adultery/infidelity, but it's not dwelled on. This could be triggering for those who have had parent's leave or other similar circumstances, so just be warned.

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Pet Names (Princess, Sweetheart, Sunshine, etc.), Childhood/Teenage Trauma, Family Issues, Tears and Crying, Swearing, Unrequited Love, Kind of a Love Triangle, Kissing, Dirty Talk, Oral (F! Receiving), Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Marking/Hickeys/Scratches, Couch Sex, Shower Sex, Unprotected Sex (Use a condom! Reader is on the pill)

Author's Note: Hm, just thought I would do this since I made something similar for San.

(S/N) is for the name of your sister.

Move Update: We are headed out next Monday for our new state (back to where I was born actually) and I'm gonna have to live at my uncles for a month before the new house is ready, so I will be writing a lot there, so get ready.

I am cross-posting this on Archive and Wattpad. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other sites. Happy reading!

The only sound you could hear was your own aggressive keypresses. You had paused your music to go to the bathroom and didn't bother hitting play again. Staring hard at the screen, your eyes hurt even with the dark theme applied. The colorful lines of code on the dark screen blurred and refocused, and you blinked, trying to force your eyes not to blur. Sighing, you pushed back from your desk, rubbing over your eyes. Taking your computer glasses off, you let them fall onto your desk and you got back up. It was really hard to work at 2 am, let alone when your thoughts were racing. And the thoughts had nothing to do with your job. The last thing you needed the day before a project was due was to loop on irrational thoughts. Your socked feet thumbed on the wood floor of your hallway as you went down it. Your sister's door was propped open, so you quietly opened the door, peeking inside. The soft teal lighting strip lining her walls cast a faint glow over the room. She was starfish-ed on the bed, peacefully and messily asleep. Huffing, you stepped out and shut your door. How nice it must be to be thirteen. Pulling your phone from the pocket of your sweatpants, you exited the hallway and went into the kitchen. The large open room of the apartment included the kitchen as well as dining and living areas. A spare room was in the back corner, empty since your friend had moved out a month before. Another room sat across from it, the large windows of the studio covered with tall curtains, but you knew it was just full of boxes of old things. Someday you would have the courage to go through them and get rid of stuff, maybe use the studio for an office or something, but…

Opening the fridge to get the pitcher of orange juice, the door shut, and your eyes focused on the dark on the picture magnetically attached to the front. The picture was of a once happy life you lived. A black squiggle covered the face of the man, the woman next to him smiling like the sun. Glaring at the censored face, you yanked the photograph from the magnet clip and slapped the picture down on the counter. The pitcher followed and as you grabbed a glass, you plucked the scissors from the small utensil-filled mug on the counter. After pouring yourself a drink, and taking a few sips, you grabbed the photo. Holding it up, you realized it would make sense to turn the overhead light of the range hood to see better, but you continued in the dark. Opening the shears, you cut a tiny slit into the white border of the photo and halted. The little line split the man's pants from the shoulder of the little girl's white sundress; she was no more than four. She was sitting on the lap of a girl looking much the same, just about twelve years older. It was weird to see such a bright smile on your face.

The purple-handed scissors clattered onto the Formica counter; the photo still held in the crook of the blades. Resting against the counter behind you, you drank the juice in gulps, hissing through your teeth when it was gone like it was some kind of liquor. The glass-mimicking plastic cup clanked into the sink, and you left the kitchen to shuffle back to your room. As you reentered, you yanked the zipper down of your hoodie, nearly tearing the garment off and throwing it harshly onto the floor. You let the door click quietly closed despite wanting to slam it and went back to your computer. Your chair let out a puff of air when you plopped down into it, the remaining pieces of the candy necklace you had on bouncing over your collarbone. Crunching on one of the sugary beads, you flipped your phone over, so the screen faced up, tapping the black surface and a small white notification bubble showed itself under the white numbers of the clock; 2:13 am. Unlocking the phone with your finger print, you opened your message app and you sniffed at the message in annoyance.

🦊WooWoo🦊: did you get it done?

He had sent it nearly an hour prior. You glared at your computer screen, then to the second monitor, the program running over and over, glitching at the same time stamp each time.

☀️: not even close 🦊: why are you up young lady ☀️: why are you?

He didn't reply right away so you looked back at your computer, clicking your tongue. Hitting save and closing the window, you instead opened up a new email and sent one to your coworker that it might not get there by tomorrow night but that you would try. It wasn't a hard deadline anyway. You worked for an Indie label, not some AAA, so that gave you some flexibility. Closing the window, you stared at your background for a good few minutes, waiting for Wooyoung to reply. The picture used to make you smile, but it hurt your heart. San's cute dimple smile, and his arm around you made you wince. Wooyoung was on your other side, his cheek pressed into the side of your head as he hugged you. You were leaning into San, trying to escape the other man's embrace, at least that was your excuse. The picture was getting close to five years old.

🦊: games 🦊: why are you up ☀️: working. thinking 🦊: about? ☀️: how shit I feel 🦊: you sick??

You rolled your eyes; he wasn't super intuitive sometimes. It was almost 2:30 in the morning though.

☀️: no. how shitty my life is now compared to back then…

Once again, he took a bit to reply, and you almost got up to use the restroom then go to bed. Your phone then buzzed on the desk, the noise even louder going through the wood, and you grabbed it quickly, answering the call.

"Your life isn't shitty (Y/N). I'm here, huh?" His giggle was forced. You just huffed, getting out of your desk chair to move to your bed.

"Livin' the dream."

"What's it this time? Your…da- uh, male life giver?" His little catch at least made the corner of your mouth crook up.

"Yeah."

"How's (S/N)?"

"Good, I guess. She…she was a bit too really remember either of them."

"Even if she doesn't it can't be easy with…how it all played out." He was trying to be careful with what he said, but you were already in a bad mood.

"Our dad cheating, leaving us for his second family and then my mother…" You thought tears who come to your eyes, but maybe you were too tired.

"Where do you think she went?" Your best friend's voice was soft.

"No clue. Neither did Gramma, or the cops. She could be in Timbuk-fucking-tu for all I know."

"Do you want to go out tomorrow with me and San? Or do you have to work?" Before you could answer, your phone buzzed, and you pulled it away from your ear. Opening the email from your coworker, you sighed in relief. Perfect timing.

"Not anymore. The character models are getting scrapped and redone so that means my code has to be scrapped. Might be why I couldn’t get it to move right."

"What about (S/N)?"

"She's thirteen not three. I'll have her sleep over at a friend's maybe…"

"Great! Get some sleep, sunshine. Meet us at 9!" He hung up and you flopped back onto your mattress, feeling disappointed for some reason. Finally working up the energy to get off the bed, you went back to your computer and shut it down, staring at San's smiling face a little too long, before letting it actually turn off.

~*~*~

"Good morning, little lady." You left the hallway, sandals in your hand. Your sister sent you a tired look over her cereal, waving lazily.

"G'mornin'."

"Do any of your friends get to have sleep overs on school nights?" Her eyes opened a bit wider then, then squinted as she thought.

"Uh…probably. Going out with-" she gave a flirty pose, batting her eyelashes, "Sannie?" then dropped the act.

"Shut up, you little shit." You threw a stray cheerio at her, and it nearly stuck to her cheek.

"Wooyoung's going too."

"Oh. You ever gonna tell him?"

"Tell San I like him? I don’t know..."

"San? Oh, yeah, right. Why not?" You didn't answer right away, pouring a glass of juice.

"You're gonna turn into an orange." Your sister rolled her eyes, and you poured just a bit more before putting the pitcher back down.

"I just... I don't think I stand a chance."

"What?! Why?!" Your sister acted like you had personally offended her. Even before your whole messed up parental situation, you two never bickered or anything. Probably because you were nearly thirteen years older than her.

"I'm not his type. He probably sees me as a sister. Also, he looks like that," you motioned down at your white tank with a think blue plaid shirt over and worn denim capris, "and I'm…"

"You better compliment yourself." Your sister glared at you, making you sigh.

"He likes the girls in skirts with makeup and their nails done. The ones that giggle at everything he says and touch his bicep ‘accidentally’…" You drifted off, getting mad at the mental pictures.

"Then do all that." (S/N) shrugged, getting up to put her cereal bowl in the sink.

"Counter." You corrected and she rolled her eyes, taking the bowl out and moving it to the counter.

"(S/N), I don't even own a tube of mascara." You sighed, then proceeded to down your orange juice once again like it was a stiff drink. Your throat burned and your stomach stung somewhat…maybe you did drink too much.

"Use mine."

"What?" You turned fast to look at her and her eyes were wide in panic.

"I only have mascara, I promise!" She lifted her hands in surrender, and you breathed out your nose. She was only a year off being allowed make up, you at least wanted to maintain the rules your mother put on you with your sister. Even if a lot of them never had to be enacted on you.

"Look, I'm just going to go hang out with them and pretend one of my best friends isn't sex on legs."

"I'm pretty sure they both are, but okay." (S/N) muttered under her breath as she passed you to go get her backpack and you pretended to not hear her.

~~~

"Bye, sis!" (S/N) got out of your car and headed into her middle school. She was the one of the few who didn't mind being seen dropped off right in front of the school, but laid-back older sisters are much, much cooler than any parent.

"Just text me who you can stay with!" You called to her, and she turned around with a shocked face.

"Right! What about my bag? My locker's not big enough!" She realized, coming back to your rolled down window, leaning into it.

"I'll bring it by after your club meeting is done."

"Really!? Can you bring WooSan?"

"Don't call them that!" You scolded but laughed nonetheless, "Sure."

"Bye, sis!" She took off again, meeting her similarly uniformed friends by the entrance. You were blessed that the school was willing to take her in for free more-or-less on a scholarship. Your mother wanted both of you to go to the same school, but it was private, and you were in no way capable of paying. If you were, you wouldn't be driving a wine red 2002 Hyundai Sonata with suede upholstery. Pulling out of the drop-off line, you continued down the road till you met the traffic light. It sat at the edge of the academy's campus and the park where you were meeting the guys was just past the light. As you waited for the light to turn, you tapped your fingers on the steering wheel along to the music playing on your radio. The light took even longer because the crossing guard was leading a group of elementary schoolers across. You were watching them pass in their cute little uniforms when you were startled by a knock on your window. You flinched, looking to see what looked to be a high school boy on the other side. You rolled the slightly tinted glass down just enough that you would be able to hear him. He flashed a smoldering smile, and you blatantly sneered.

"What, kid?"

"You obviously don't go to school here, you from the public school?" How dumb was this kid? You hadn't been in high school for seven years. You had a college degree and everything. Most might take it as a compliment to be seen as looking young enough to be a teenager, but…

"Get lost, squirt." You scoffed, looking away but not bothering to roll the window back up. You were a bit curious what his reaction would be.

"I might look young, but I'm a senior this year, princess." He was clearly a little put off by your flat dismissal, trying to keep a flirty tone.

"Fuck off, kid. She's our princess." A familiar voice hit your ears, and you sighed in relief, watching Wooyoung essentially hip bump the kid so hard he fell back onto the sidewalk. Your heart skipped as you huffed a laugh, watching San come up as well and unlocked the doors so the two guys could climb in, right at the light turned green. San barely shut the back door before you took off, leaving the teenager's friends laughing at his sorry state. Crossing the median, you pulled into the parking lot of the park and slumped back into your seat.

"Got your favorite." San leaned forward, toned arm hovering over the center console, holding a plastic bag with one finger.

"Sweet!" You swiped it from him and Wooyoung got out, running around to your side where the window was still rolled down.

"Hey, pretty lady, want to go make out behind the bleachers?" He leaned against the side of your car just like the cocky teen had and you couldn’t help but laugh.

"Uh, no." You wondered if he caught you glance in your rearview mirror to watch San get out of your car, holding the drink holder of ice coffees as well. You couldn't meet his gaze though, and surprisingly, he didn't respond, just stood up and started to follow San down the path.

"Hey, wait up!" You got out quickly, nearly forgetting your phone and to lock the car as you dashed after them. Finally getting half-way around the pond that was trying to be a lake, you sat on a picnic bench of the wooden shelter right on the edge of the water. Some ducks quacked as they lazily swam closer, hoping for a snack. As you took a long sip of your ice coffee, you watched San get up and go closer to the ducks, a little bit of his croissant left. Your eyes couldn't help but travel over the wide expanse of his shoulders and back. His arms were on display since he was in a sleeveless hoodie, and you smiled at his as the ducks happily ate the bread.

"That's bad for them, y'know?" Wooyoung called and the other man tossed him a bored look over his shoulder, then went back to the birds. Because you were too busy eyeing over your friend, you didn't notice Wooyoung watching you. He lifted half of his nose in a sneer, glaring at his friend who was taking up all of your attention. Wooyoung wanted to blame it on that San had started working out since you had all started being friends, but he wasn’t sure that was it.

"Just fucking tell him." He whispered harshly to you and his sudden mutter made you choke. San immediately turned around, and you waved him off, but he still went to your side, patting your back some to help.

"You okay?" He kneeled next to you, and you nodded, flashing a small smile, trying not to get red. Not like you could control it. Just then, something green flew through the air, flying past San's head as he stood, and he was toppled over by a mass of blonde fur.

"Jeremy! Get off of him!" A young woman scolded the golden retriever as it refused to get off of San, sniffing him and licking his face. Why am I jealous of a dog? You sighed, slumping back against the wood railing of the shelter.

"Why don't you tell him?" Wooyoung's next whisper was much softer, he sounded very tired.

"And get rejected? Ruin our friendship? No." You whispered back, still watching the cutest thing you've ever seen. The dog was a fat mood, refusing to get off of San.

"I'm so sorry!" The woman finally managed to pull the dog off of the man and he got up laughing. She immediately blushed, finally able to see San past all of the fluff. Looking away and down the path to where the green flying disk still lay you got up to retrieve it, since the dog had failed its job.

"Here." You forced a smile as you handed it back to her and she snapped out of her daze to take it from you, immediately looking back to San. Luckily, she left not too long after and you were able to continue the day with the two guys.

~*~*~

A week passed, and you still hadn't been able to work because the rest of the team couldn't get their act together and finish their parts. So, you had been left to your thoughts which is never good. You sat on the couch, boredly and only partially watching the TV. Your knees were pulled up to your chest and your hands lazily tapped a rhythm on the worn faux leather of the couch. Tilting your head, it rested on the back of the couch, and you stared at the ceiling of your loft apartment, the large ventilation pipes curving around the support columns high above your head. When the doorbell rang you almost didn't recognize it, thinking it might have been on the show. It happened again and you knew it was yours because the TV now displayed a commercial for some kind of sports drink. Getting up with a groan, you trudged over to the door, socked feet shuffling over the wood floor. When you opened the door, a young woman sat on the other side, and her face made you nervous. She looked…

"Hi. Are you (Y/N)?" She smiled gently and you nodded.

"I'm Jena (L/N). Can…can I come in?" When she said her last name, your heart fell. You knew immediately who she was.

"Sure." Your tone was flat, but since she didn't know you, it seemed she didn't notice. You motioned her in and toward the couch and you glanced around your place. It wasn't messy, but it wasn't nice either. She was in a sundress that was at least $300, and she had a giant rock on her finger. You grimaced as she sat on your very well-worn couch and you sat down as well, facing her by sitting sideways. She put her designer bag down, linking her fingers and resting her hands on her knee, legs crossed.

"I'm sorry to intrude, but…I'm assuming you know Daniel (L/N)?" You never wanted to hear that name again.

"Uh, yeah." You shuffled on the couch, the faux leather creaking under you.

"I'm his daughter. I have to admit I was a little…stalky?" She cringed at herself, smiling sheepishly.

"Dad is…well, he doesn't have much longer." When you didn't really react, she continued. On the inside, you just weren't sure how to react.

"They don't know if he drank too much when he was younger or what, but his liver is failing. He's been on a transplant list, but they can't find anyone compatible." She’d better not have come to get you to give him half of your fucking liver-

"Anyway, I was looking over his will-"

"Where's your mom?"

"Huh?"

"How…what about your mom?"

"Oh, uh." She looked down, a sad expression covering her face.

"When he got sick, she left him, so I'm in charge of everything." Rolling your eyes, you huffed, looking toward the kitchen, focusing on the picture on the fridge you meant to cut up.

"Uh. Right, your name is on the will." She pulled a packet of paper from her purse, showing you where your name was highlighted. You didn't even care what he was leaving you, so you handed it back.

"I don't want it."

"O-oh…if you don't mind me asking, who are you?" You raised an eyebrow, and she wilted under your glare.

"You don't know?"

"No, sorry." She hid bashfully behind the papers, "are we cousins or something?" You just stared at her in shock.

"No offense, but it’s a bit weird to have a niece in your will when you have four kids?"

"Look, if you want my part, have it."

"No! That's not… Actually, the reason I'm really here is-" She pulled something else out of her bag and you recognized it.

"Dad kept saying the name Naomi." You stood up at this and she flinched. You paced a bit, hands going to your head, fingers digging into your scalp. Breathing out slowly, you turn back to her.

"Sorry…keep going, I'm just…struggling with this." She seemed a bit unwilling to continue without asking anything, but she did so as you sat back down. Your ire was evident, you were sure.

"Um…well, I couldn't figure out who she was, so I looked in his yearbook. He's…" She flipped to the middle of the book, "with a girl named Naomi." She showed you the page, but you already knew it. High School Sweethearts read in flowery script over the picture of your parents.

"But when I looked her up, I couldn't find anything." Of course not. You never could.

"So, I used Google's new AI search with this picture, and I found a woman…" You hadn’t gone that far, still not really trusting any kind of program claiming to be AI. She pulled out another paper from her bag and showed it to you. It was an article about some town's mayor on the other side of the country, and the caption listed the woman next to him as his wife. It was your mother. But her name was wrong.

"It says her name is Carry, but that looks like the same woman, right?"

"Y-Yes."

"Maybe they’re sisters? Twins even? I know it’s a long shot, but do you have her contact information? Even if they broke up soon after high school, maybe she would be willing to see him since he's dying…" As soon as you saw her face on the paper, your anger left, and you were holding back tears.

"I don't…but-" you took a shuddering breath, "uh, I don't think she'll go see him."

"Really?" She deflated a bit, and you looked down at your lap, picking at your torn jeans.

"Uh. No. She's… Okay, I'm in the will because I'm your sister. Those are my parents. She’s my mother." This information floored her, her jaw literally dropping. Sniffing hard, you hated crying, let alone in front of essentially a stranger.

"How old are you?" Your question snapped her back, making her flinch.

"T-twenty." Of course.

"Dad…He uh, left us and mom for…you guys. Then mom fucking snapped or broke or whatever and left us too." You looked at the printed off article, at your mother's smiling face next to some man you had never seen or heard of before. This shocked her even further. You gave her the article back and stood moving to the door.

"Uh, take me out of the will or whatever and just leave us alone please. Thank you." You opened your front door, not able to look at her.

"U-us?"

"Ah. (S/N). My thirteen-year-old sister." This must have really made this Jena girl realize why you acted the way you did. It wasn't that your father left your mother then fathered her, he had both families at the same time.

"M-my brother is twelve." Reality was hitting her.

"Great. That sucks for everyone, please leave." You motioned with your arm for her to get out and as soon as she shuffled out into the hallway, you let the door fall closed. Your shoulder hit the wall, and you slumped to the floor, hot tears falling down your cheeks and onto the floor. Your chest heaved as you sobbed, hand covering your mouth to keep you quiet.

"Fuck!" You screamed, grabbing a cheap ceramic bowl you used for change and chucked it across the room. It hit the column behind your TV and shattered, coins clattering onto the floor in its trail. You buried your face in your hands, breathing harshly, trying to prevent yourself from hyperventilating. Your phone buzzed on the coffee table. It buzzed again a few minutes later, then again. Again.

"Damnit." You got up, storming over to your phone, looking at it. It was the group chat, Wooyoung and San were talking about doing something the next day, some kind of lawn game competition at the community college. When they saw that you read the messages and didn't reply, your phone rang with a call from Wooyoung.

"I know that we're not in college anymore, but we can get away-" You had stopped crying more or less, but hearing his voice brought tears back to your eyes and you fought a sob.

"Are you crying? What happened?"

"U-um…" You swallowed hard, a lump rising in your throat along with the tears.

"I'll be there in five…six minutes!" He hung up and you let the device fall onto the couch. Your shoulders fell as you stood in the middle of the main room of your place, glaring at the coffee table's scratched surface. A tear fell onto the plywood, then another. Snapping out of your daze when hard knocks pounded on the door, you only got halfway to the door before he opened it, finding it unlocked.

"(Y/N)?" Seeing the concerned face of your best friend made you feel safe and so your self-erected walls fell. He shut the door as he moved forward, catching you in his arms as you shriveled to the floor. Wooyoung held you tighter as you cried, desperate sobs and whimpers muffled as you pressed your face into his chest. Your tears darkened the red fabric of his sweatshirt, and he adjusted your position, so you sat on the floor, legs over one of his, cheek pressed to his collarbone. A tear of his own fell and mixed with yours on your jaw, but you didn't notice it. He didn't know what happened that wrecked you so bad, but he couldn't stand hearing and seeing you so upset. He even hated it if you cried at a movie.

"What happened, sunshine?" His embrace loosened so you could sit up straighter, tears still falling, but you weren't actively sobbing. Wooyoung cupped your cheek in his hand, wiping a tear from your eye. You had to take several deep breaths through the story, but you managed to tell him what happened.

"M-my mother's alive, Wooyoung." Your voice had quieted so much at the end that, but he still heard the pain.

"(Y/N), sweetheart, come here." He stood, helping you get up and he led you over to the couch. He grabbed your phone, and you rested back on the couch as he easily put in your pin without having to ask what it was. You listened half-heartedly as he called your sister, most likely just getting out of class, about to go to her art club meeting.

"Again? Is this going to be weekly? I think I can stay with Amanda, maybe Emily…" You heard (S/N) sigh, "what about my stuff?"

"Can't you manage with borrowing?" Wooyoung cast you a glance, your forearm over your eyes.

"I guess. What’s wrong with (Y/N)?"

"She's just really struggling with something."

“What?”

“Adult stuff.”

“Okay, yeah, sure, uh-huh.”

“She’ll tell you when she’s ready, little lady.”

"You better take good care of her Mr. Jung."

"I will Miss (L/N)." He hung up and put your phone back down. You felt the couch shift when he stood up, then felt his body heat as he kneeled on the floor next to you. Wooyoung gently removed your arm from your face, and you turned to look at him.

"Oh, sweetheart." He sighed, hand going to your cheek, rubbing his thumb over the red skin of your cheek, brushing away a stray tear.

"C-can you call San? And we can watch a movie? Get Indian food?" You weren't sure how to read Wooyoung's expression. He seemed to be thinking, but then he forced a smile and nodded.

"Sure, princess." Wooyoung stood and pressed a long kiss to your forehead, and you blamed your turbulent emotions on your racing heart.

~*~*~

About two weeks later, you found yourself sitting on the couch, staring at the number you plugged into your phone. You hadn't pressed call yet, the non-local area code of the number glaring at you. It was a long shot, but you hoped calling the mayor's office might get you somewhere. You had been stalling for a long time, his office would only be open for another hour thanks to the time difference. Your sister was getting annoyed with you having her stay the night at a friend’s place, but luckily, she had a slumber party she was invited to. The sun was starting to set, and you finally worked up the courage to hit call, then turned it onto speaker, at 5:57. It was probably around 3 there.

"Mayor Elledge's office, this is Peg."

"Hi, uh, Peg. I'm…I'm trying to get in contact with Carry Elledge, but I'm not sure how to get ahold of her…" The silence scared you, worried that the woman would be too suspicious to help you.

"May I ask who you are?"

"I'm…a relative. It's about…my father's will." Please work.

"I see…I can get you her cellphone number." The secretary relented and you sighed in relief, thanking her several times. Typing the number she gave you into your notes app, you politely end the conversation and went to call the other number while you still had the courage to do so. Ring. Ring. Ring-

"Hello, this is Carry?" It was your mom, no doubt. Tears welled in your eyes, and you swallowed, voice coming out softer than normal to keep from crying.

"M-mom? It's me. It's (Y/N)." More silence.

"I think you might have the wrong number, dear." You felt your face fall, your eyebrows furrowing, your lips trembling.

"This isn't Naomi (L/N)?"

"No, dear, sorry." There wasn't any kind of recognition in her voice, but it was hers.

"O-oh…okay, sorry." The call ended and you pressed your lips hard together, jaw clenched. What the hell happened? You sat trying to wrap your head around everything, about thirty minutes passed and your phone rang. It was a different number, but it was the same area code as the other two.

"H-hello?"

"Are you the young woman looking for Naomi (L/N)?" A man spoke, and you wondered if it wasn't the mayor guy.

"Yessir."

"You must be (Y/N)."

"What the hell happened to my mother?" Your tone didn't have nearly as much malice as you had wanted. Even if this guy did nothing wrong, you hated him. He sighed. He explained that he found her near death in an alleyway. She had malnutrition and was dehydrated. He got her to the hospital, she was in a medically induced coma for a few days, and when she woke up…she didn't remember anything.

"So, she has no idea about her past life?"

"No, miss."

"Thank you for…not letting her die."

"I'm sorry to not be of more help Miss (Y/N). Though, I don't think it’s good for her to be reminded of her past life. I called because she is…having a panic attack. Maybe it was your voice, some part of her recognized it maybe? It’s clear she is traumatized from her past. I think it would be best if you leave her be." You didn't want to. You wanted to get in your car, grab your sister, and drive for the three of four days you needed, and get your mother. But…she wasn't your mother anymore, even if she did remember you, it was clear her brain was hiding you and your sister.

"I…Okay. If you want to know, Daniel (L/N) is dying."

"Good."

"Yes."

"I appreciate you wanting to reach out, but I would like you to lose our numbers.

"Yessir." He hung up. Your body must have run out of tears along with your energy because you just slumped back into the couch. Something rose in you then, something bold. Grabbing your bag, phone and keys, you left your place, heading for Wooyoung and San’s.

~~~

As you rode the elevator to the third floor, you were shaking. Whether it was nerves or pure exhaustion you weren't sure. Going down the hall, you heard voices further down and you finally saw the owners as you turned the corner. San was standing at his apartment door, some bleach blonde girl wedged between him and the door. You weren’t sure how to feel, your emotions were too turbulent. Somehow it felt like your heart finally completely shattered, but you also were relieved, but the latter made you mad. You turned and fled before you could see his lips actually meet hers.

~~~

"(Y/N)?" You heard your name through the door, then Wooyoung's rapid knocks. You were slumped against the island counter, hands stinging and bleeding, shards of glass and ceramic scattered around the room. Tissue paper and packing peanuts were strewn about the main room of the apartment as well, old papers and books torn and discarded. Splinters of wood from broken frames and dismembered toys littered the floor as well, and you ran your thumb over a glass paper weight shaped like a cat.

"(Y/N)?!" Wooyoung jiggled the door handle harder, but it was locked. A red smear followed your thumb on the glass cat, the cuts on your palms still oozing blood.

"Damnit, (Y/N) (L/N)! Open the fucking door, I know you're in there." He was panicking, you could hear it in his voice.

"Fuck off." You sighed, throwing the glass piece as hard as you could, and it hit the far wall. The ear chipped off and broke, the finish over the brick wall flaked off, then it clattered to the floor.

"(Y/N), please princess, let me in." You heard a thump, presumably his forehead hitting the door. You licked your lips, the salt of your tears hitting along with the iron tang of blood. You weren't sure if it was from where you had bitten your lip or the cut on the tip of your nose.

"(Y/N). Please, I need to see you, sweet girl. Please let me know if you're okay." You didn't know what time it was, just that it was late, only the light of the storage room flowing into the room from the door. Your phone had been going off, and you hated the message you saw on it, so you chucked it across the room as well, breaking it instantly. The place was a mess, and you were grateful your sister wasn't home to see your breakdown.

"Go away, Wooyoung." Your voice was hoarse after your crying, but the door was thin, and you knew he heard.

"Not a fucking chance, (Y/N)."

"Just…just let me be alone."

"No! Open the door, damn it!"

"Go home."

"Shit. (Y/N) open the freaking door or I'm coming up the fire escape!" You knew he meant it. You got up, not bothering to be careful of what you stepped on, only wincing slightly as a speck of glass wedged in your foot, joining other scrapes and cuts already present. Shakily, you undid the door chain, and he must have heard you turn the deadbolt and the lock on the knob, because he opened the door before you could. He gasped, looking at your face, pale but red from smeared blood of the small cuts on your face. He looked at your hands too, and the bloody footprints on the floor.

"Oh my God, (Y/N)." Wooyoung shut the door, dropping his backpack and cupping your face with his hands. They were cold from being out in the early autumn night and you didn't even react when he did so. Wooyoung lifted your head so you could look at him and his brow furrowed in despair at the blank look in your eyes. Finally, he looked around the room in the low light, shocked at the carnage.

"I called her." You managed to get out and he looked back at you, confused.

"Mom. I looked up the mayor guy's office number and called. She didn't… She didn't know who I was. Her husband called and told me she had some kind of amnesia after he found her. Then he told me never to try again. So, I…" you licked your lips, "then I…I decided and went to your place. San was taking some blonde bitch into the apartment." Your breath shuddered and his shoulders slumped.

"(Y/N)-"

"I…I went to the store, but they were out of Cayman Jacks. The Indian place down the street closed early. The pizza place was out of white sauce… I grabbed some random food from the convenience store and then when I got home… I got a text from that Jena girl, my half-sister," you spat, "dad's dead."

"(Y/N), sunshine, you must… What can I do?" He stepped closer, one hand leaving your face to grab your hand. You flinched at the sting, and he held your hand up to see the cuts in the skin. It looked like you had a few splinters as well.

"Help me clean this mess?"

"I’ll just do it, lets get you cleaned up first."

He picked a few splinters out of your hands and feet, then sent you off to shower. Wooyoung vowed to work on the mess more later, maybe even get Seonghwa to help, but he dealt with the dangerous stuff first. He had shoved and/or swept all the debris into a big pile in the ravaged storage room, leaving the mess for another time. After carefully picking up all the sharp shards and splintered wood, he vacuumed to make sure everything was picked up. He glanced up when you shuffled out of the hallway, a towel draped over your wet hair, a soft light-weight grey sweater draped over your torso, and a darker gray pair of shorts nearly hidden by the shirt. Your head was bowed, hands and feet red and he shuffled over to lead you to the couch.

"Did you use soap?"

"Mm. Conditioner stung." You sat, and he pulled your hands into his lap so he could look them over.

"I'll help you with these." He let your hands go and then his own went to the towel on your head, gently rubbing it over your hair, then scrunching the strands with the fabric to get more of the water out. Gently he laid it around your neck and shoulders to the still damp strands didn't drip on your shirt. When Wooyoung returned with your first aid box from the bathroom, you were still sitting in the same spot, staring blankly at a spot on the couch. Sighing, he went back to you and neither of you said anything as he smeared ointment on the cuts. He went ahead and just wrapped some bandages around your right hand since it was so cut up, but put band aids on the other. Wooyoung did the same with your feet, and you didn't even flinch even though you were usually ticklish there. As he finished some other little tidying things, you ran your finger over the chipped nails of your opposite hand, the polish flaking and cracked as well even though (S/N) only painted them two days prior.

"(Y/N), look at me." He prompted and when you didn't, he gently lifted your head with his finger under your chin.

"I'm so sorry, princess, that your…about your mom. And your father. But with San-"

"It was a stupid thought. I don't know why I got the courage to go." You tried to look away, but he forced you back to look at him, thumbs stroking your cleaned face. The little cuts had already pretty much closed, and he leaned forward and pressed a small kiss on the scratch on the tip of your nose.

"It's not stupid, (Y/N). Neither are you, he is." You huffed a wry laugh, but he shook his head.

"No, he is. He's a fucking idiot. You wanna know why?"

"Yeah, why?" You pulled both of your legs up under you, leaning with your side into the back of couch, head resting on the back cushion.

"Any many who wouldn't fall in love with you after knowing you is an idiot. I think I'm the only smart person there is." Wooyoung shook his head, throwing the band-aid wrappers onto the coffee table. It took your tired brain a bit to process what he said, but you still barely had the energy to snap your head up to look at him.

"What?"

"You've looked at him like he hung the moon for like two years but you’re still like a sister to him or something. Fucking stupid."

"You love me?"

"Yes! And you're an idiot for not noticing. That's why I'm the only smart one." He stood up to actually throw the wrappers away, using the task to flee since he was flushed from his confession. He stood looking down into the nearly full trash for a few seconds, trying to think of what to do next. Before he could turn back to you, he felt your arms wrap around his middle from behind, your cheek pressing to his back. He wasn't very tall, one of the shortest in your friend group, but you were small compared to him. Normally your hugs had a great deal of strength in them, like you did as a whole, but while they were around him, they were shaky.

"I'm sorry for being an idiot, Wooyoung." Your voice was quiet, he felt it vibrate through him more than actually hearing it with his ears. He sighed.

"Its…its fine. You can't help how you feel any more than I can." He laid his hand over your arm, gently prying you off of him, but pulling you back into him once he turned around. Resting back against the island, you went with him, letting him hold you close. His fingers ran through the drying strands of your hair, and you shuffled even closer when he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"I…My brain is too frazzled to give you a response right now, Woo. I…I want to tell you-“

"It’s fine, (Y/N). I wasn't expecting anything back…"

"No, its…I can't put my emotions together right now, but I might like you back, but it could just be my subconscious looking for comfort."

"Can I help? We can talk it out? What do you want me to do?"

"What do I want…?"

"Anything." You pulled back to look at him, looking over his face. He was so freaking pretty, his longer black hair was pulled half-up, a few strands framing his face. The ends of the little strands brushed over the beauty mark under his eye and your eyes flitted to the small one he had on his lip. You bet most people didn't even know it was there. Bringing your left hand up, your sleeve fell so it was no longer hanging by your fingers, and your index finger ran over the small dot. You flinched when he quickly grabbed your wrist, a little tighter than it maybe should have been. He realized this and loosened, sliding his thumb up to your palm.

"(Y/N). Be careful, sweetheart." With his grip on your wrist, he pulled you closer.

"Anytime you're close to me I want to hold. I want to kiss you. I want to pin you to the nearest surface and…" He licked his lips, brow furrowing, "Don't let me do something you'll regret because you are weak now." You grimaced, looking down, stepping back from him.

"D-don't…" Your breath shuddered and he could tell you were starting to cry again.

"Hey, hey." He pulled you back in for a hug, "I will hold you as long as you want. I can lie on the couch, and you can lie on me. We can sleep there. We'll watch that movie you like so much that your sister hates…" You sniffed, nodding and he kissed the crown of your head before you pulled back, and he led you to the couch. Not even ten minutes later he was stretched across the old couch, you nestled half on top of him, half between him and the back, the intro of The Last Unicorn playing on the TV. You normally didn't use a blanket on the couch, not unless you were upset, so it was tucked under your chin.

"How did you know to come?"

"Huh?"

"Why did you come here?"

"Oh. (S/N) was freaking out because you weren't answering any texts or video calls, and your phone was going straight to voicemail. I texted her that you broke your phone and that she didn't need to come home." Like it felt left out, his phone buzzed, and he shifted to grab it from the coffee table. You sneakily glanced and saw that it was from San.

🐯: where you at??

He just put the phone down, but it buzzed not even a minute later.

🐯: is (Y/N) ok, or do I need to send Becca home and come over?

"You better not fucking come here." Wooyoung huffed quietly, managing to use one hand and reply.

🦊: She's fine now. Leave us alone.

"That's harsh."

"He broke your heart; I should be much worse." He clicked his tongue, picking his phone up when it buzzed again on his stomach.

🐯: wtf you good? Are you mad?

"Yeah, I'm fucking pissed."

"He's calling." You mumbled, looking at his screen while he looked at the TV, trying to think of what to say. He angrily slid at the answer button, having to do it a second time for it to work.

"What?!" He nearly shouted into the phone, his even louder than normal voice sharp in your ear.

"Sorry, sweetheart." Wooyoung brushed over your hair, "What?"

"Woah, dude, are you sure you're okay?"

"What. Do. You. Want?"

"Woo." You scolded, and that seemed to make him even madder.

"Is she okay?!" San must’ve not heard.

"Yes, you stupid- She's fine. What do you want?"

"Can I talk to her?"

"No, you can't."

"What? Why?"

"Just go…hang out or in Becca or whatever-" You smacked his chest and he yiped.

"Did you make her upset; did you guys get into a fight?"

"No-"

"I'm coming over-"

"Damnit, no!"

"I don't see why you fucking care, Choi San." Something snapped in you, your last vestiges of rationale fizzled out. Wooyoung choked around a laugh, quickly putting the call on speaker.

"(Y-Y/N)?" He sounded like a whimpering puppy.

"Why are you trying to stick up for me or defend me?"

"Y-you're…you're like my sister-" Your fingers dug into Wooyoung's shirt so hard you scratched the skin underneath some, and you sat up, grabbing the phone.

"You know why I wasn't okay? Huh? I found out my mom's alive but doesn't remember me or my sister. My dad is dead. I couldn't get my favorite butter chicken, and the guy I like is at his place sucking face with some chick who looks like she can't do basic addition. So, fuck off San." You hung up and slid Wooyoung's phone away, so it landed on the coffee table, sliding just a bit further past where it landed. Huffing, you laid back down onto your other friend and continued to watch the movie. You both tried to focus, but after a few minutes, you both burst into laughter, and it was a good five minutes before you could fully calm down.

"I'm so fucking tired." You rested your hand over your eyes, wedged between Wooyoung and the couch and he turned toward you, blocking your view of the TV.

"Do you feel better though?" He brushed your hair off your face, and you nodded, nestling into the crook of his neck.

"Just sleep, sweetheart." Wooyoung pressed another kiss to your forehead, and you couldn't help but listen.

~~~

You woke up sore, not sure if it was from sleeping on your shitty couch or from the destruction you wrecked on your apartment the night before. Wooyoung was still asleep, curled around you, and still so, so pretty. You assumed he thought that if you waited, you would realize you were just wanting Wooyoung for comfort, not because you liked him back. But, after sleeping on it, you weren't so sure. Before, you really didn't know if you liked him back or not, but as you watched him sleep (feeling a bit creepy honestly) you thought about it. When you first became friends, you had a pretty big crush on him. The closer you got, the more it seemed he got on your nerves, and he was just annoying and immature. But after graduating, you got much closer; he really was your best friend. You were genuinely closer with Wooyoung than San, but you almost always hung out as the three of you. Could you have liked both, but chose San because you didn't want to admit you had liked Wooyoung the entire time you knew him? Did he annoy you so much because you had feelings for him, like some elementary age boy who pulls a girl's hair? And says he hates her? Gently, so as not to wake him, you cupped his jaw with your hands much like had the day prior to you.

"Be careful, sweetheart." He echoed the same words from the day before, not even opening his eyes.

"Why?" His eyes finally opened, the intensity in his gaze taking your breath away. Wooyoung scooted an inch closer, pressing you further into the cushion, his knee wedging between your legs. You gasped when he pressed closer, finally feeling him against you.

"If you let me kiss you, I won't stop there." His lips hovered over yours, tongue flicking out and running over your bottom lip as well as his.

"Then don't."

"(Y/N)-"

"I'm sure, Wooyoung. I thought about it, and yes, I have…had a crush on San. But that's what it is, like a school crush. You were right that I was stupid. I don't love you because you're my best friend, you're my best friend because I love you. I’m in love with you." Normally such flowery words would make you cringe, but yours were genuine. He breathed out hard with his nose, brow furrowing, eyes flitting away from yours, down to your lips.

"That was part of the reason I was so upset last night. Yes, I felt heartbroken from seeing San with that girl, but I also felt horrible, because I wasn't nearly as upset as I thought I would be. I was just glad it wasn't you with some bleach blonde bitch. After I found out about my mother…I was really glad it was you that came over and not San." Wooyoung couldn't hold a giggle back, trying to keep his face serious, but he couldn't.

"And I'm glad my sister called you, that you came." You smiled purely, but his turned to a smirk, the arm not under your head curling around you. You gasped when he slid the last little bit closer, hitching your leg over his hip and grinding his hardening cock into you.

"You have ten second to tell me to get off, otherwise I'm fucking you stupid on this couch." You whimpered at his words, hands leaving his face and resting on his shoulders. You bucked your hips, causing him to let out a soft grunt.

"Stupid, huh?" You smirked back and you squeaked when he rolled on top of you, soft lips capturing your chapped ones. The kiss wasn't gentle, his tongue quickly invading your mouth, tasting every inch of your tongue, his strong thigh hitching hard against your mound. Sneaky hands snuck under the waist band of your shorts, fingers pressing hard into the flesh of your ass, pulling up against him, feeling the outline of his dick against your tummy. Wooyoung pulled back from the kiss, letting you catch your breath, a trail of saliva dripping down your chin. He kneeled over you, pulling his shirt off and chucking it across the room. You whimpered, your own sneaky hands stroking over the skin of his chest and abs, when had he been that built?

"Up." He ordered, and you sat up just enough for him to pull your shirt off, along with your sports bra underneath.

"Fuck!" You twitched as those sinful lips wrapped around your nipple, teeth nibbling the peak before moving to the next, then up. Finally, his trail of kisses stopped at your throat, and he sucked your skin between his teeth there. It was too high to hide, and he worked the skin nearly raw, leaving a large purple welt on your jaw.

"Ah!" You jerked under him when his hand dove under your shorts and panties, two fingers swiping through the slick of your folds.

"You’re already this wet for me, sweetheart?" Wooyoung chuckled in your ear, those two fingers not hesitating to plunge into you. The sudden intrusion took your breath away, the slight burn left your head swimming. He only pumped the digits maybe twice before retracting his hand, and instead shoving his fingers in his own mouth.

"Oh, fuck." He groaned, climbing off of you, then shoving you up the rest of the way on the couch, landing on it with his stomach. Your shorts and panties flew through the air, joining the rest of your clothes and he threw your legs over his shoulders. Your skin felt like it caught fire when his tongue wasted no time in wiggling inside your cunt. It was long and he knew how to work it, his nose brushing your clit as he drank from you like a thirsty dog.

"Woo-Wooyoung, god!" Your breath hitched, legs twitching around his head, that deft tongue leaving your core to circle your clit, those two fingers sinking into your heat once more. He pulled back, licking his lips, spread into a sinful grin.

"You taste so fucking good, sweetheart." He groaned, crooking his fingers up hard, battering your weak spot.

"W-w-wait!" Your orgasm was coming on fast, and his fingers kept up their antics as he laid over you again, nose nuzzling behind your ear.

"Cum for me, princess." He licked over the crest of your ear, and he chucked breathily as your cunt clenched and spasmed around his fingers, their wiggling spurring your orgasm along. You shuddered and heaved as he pulled out, and you flinched when the slick pad of his index finger lowered, swirling over your pucker.

"Huh?" Your back arched from the odd sensation, but he didn't go further than a few teasing brushes.

"Maybe later, I want to taste all of you. And I want to fuck you full of my cum there too." He sank his teeth into your earlobe, and you turned your head to the side submissively, whimpering.

"Oh, you're a good girl, huh?" His teeth scraped along the column of your exposed throat, your head twisting more to give him better access.

"Fuck, you're gonna feel so good on my cock, princess." Wooyoung groaned, scattering kisses over your neck, shoulders and throat as he wiggled to get his pants and boxers off. Hauling you back down the couch, he easily grabbed your thighs to lead you to wrap them around his middle. You sighed feeling the heat of hard cock slide through your folds, head swimming as the fat head prodded your entrance, then slid up.

"Wooyoung, please~!" You whimpered, wanting him to sear through you, craving the burning sting.

"You wanna know something, sunshine?"

"What?" He chuckled at your slightly slurred speech.

"I plan on railing you so hard you don’t even remember who San is." He hummed and you couldn't brace for his entrance, his fat cock filling you with a hard snap of his hips. Your back arched, breath forced out of you, chipped fingernails digging crescents into his back. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream, gummy walls spasming and fluttering around his cock, somehow the pain of him gouging into you threw you over the edge so quickly it made your clit sting too.

"God, fuck, Wooyoung!" You finally caught your breath enough to speak and he groaned long and deep.

"You're so fucking perfect, (Y/N). Oh, sweetheart, you're made for me!" He groaned a laugh, fading into a whine as the clenches faded with your orgasm. You felt like a truck hit you, vision blurry, lower half protesting at Wooyoung's brutal entrance, but you loved it. Your hips jumped again, cunt sucking him in further when he sat up more, pinning on of your knees to your shoulder, holding the other at his waist.

"Look at your cute pussy struggling to take me, huh?" He loved the sight of your tight core weeping around his cock, slick shining along his flesh and both of your inner thighs.

"I'm gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart~" He giggled, and your fingers gouged lines down the skin of his back as he started, pace immediately relentless, battering your cervix with the head of his dick. The hand at your thigh holding it to his side left, sliding down your body and gripping your ass.

"Hm, you like it, pretty girl? Like my fat cock?"

"Fuck, yes, Woo~" Your breath heaved, and you let out a delirious giggle, gasping and whining hard as his rapid pace barreled you through your third orgasm. Your cunt stung, but it was so good. You squealed when his hand left your butt, only to slap the skin hard, the sting travelling up your hip and into your thigh. He felt your walls grip him harder at the spank, so he did it again, harder.

"Oh, shit-" Your head lolled against the couch cushion, face and neck flushed, heaving for air. Your nails clawed down his chest to his stomach and he licked his lips at the sting.

"(Y/N), you're such a good girl, yeah? My good girl~"

"Y-yours!"

"Yes, sweetheart. All mine, oh, you're doing so good."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, princess. This pussy's so good too, welcoming my cock home?"

"Yeah!" You giggled, dumb on his cock and he hadn't even come once yet.

"Aw, love, can I cum inside? You on the pill, yeah? Let me paint you white, huh? Fuck you full of my cum, then flip you over and give you more?" He was laughing every few words, sounding almost a bit delirious himself. He had wanted to have you like that for so long, and he was going to fuck you on every surface in the place if he could.

"P-please!"

"Okay, I'm gonna then-" Wooyoung hummed, it faded to a groan, then with a few more stuttering thrusts, you felt heat blossom in your lower stomach. His cock pulsed as rope after rope of hot jizz filled you, a few drops leaking from where he split you open, leaving a mess on the couch. Your body jerked as his orgasm faded, you almost blacked out from your own. Your clit was throbbing, folds swollen and red, but he was still painfully hard.

~~~

"Hold on here." Wooyoung moved your hands to the mount of the shower head, and you wrapped your fingers around the metal pipe. Your toes curled as he entered you again, hot water hitting his back and dripping off of him onto you. Drops of cum hit the shower floor along with the water and he started to pound into you again. The water made the slaps of the skin of his pelvis against your butt and thighs all the louder, nearly muffling your soft whimpers and mewls. Your ass was red, covered in hand-shaped welts, thighs littered with hickeys and kiss-marks. His back, chest and stomach were covered in scratches, a bite-mark etched into his shoulder and a single hickey clung to his jawline. You weren't sure how long it had been since he first got inside you, but it had to have been hours ago. You had no idea where his stamina had come from, and your once burning cunt had more or less numbed to the sting of overstimulation, tiny orgasms shattering through you without warning or reason. You felt the wet strands of his hair on your shoulders as he leaned over you, hand cupping the underside of your breast, the other over your hands on the shower mount.

"Fuck, (Y/N), I love you. I love you so much." He kissed your shoulder, avoiding a sore-looking mark he had left.

"I-I love you t-t-too, Wooyoung-!" You heaved for air as another tiny climax shivered through you.

"Breathe baby, you gotta pace yourself, I still gotta fuck you stupid.” Wooyoung giggled and you just squeaked and mewled, since he already had.

Master-Master List

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[strwbrythoughts]

the unseen lovers | alhaitham

prologue

Series masterlist | Word count: 749

On his days off, Alhaitham found that the silence in his home was a bit too heavy to endure alone.

He occupied the living area on his own. A pot of freshly brewed tea still piping hot sat on the coffee table, a thick book on quantum physics he was rereading for the seventh time in his right hand and the lack of noise filling his ears. That was what his usual Saturday morning would be like.

Alhaitham never knew he would grow to eventually disdain it.

Some Saturdays, his hatred was fierce enough to propel him to use other rooms. Sometimes he would read in the kitchen but not while eating a bowl of soup. He always told himself it was difficult to read while eating soup. Other times he would read in bed, only to find his eyes more prone to closing than staying open.

Perhaps that was why he found himself in the library now.

This house’s library was somewhat smaller than his late grandma’s, but it didn’t really matter. The shelves were still full of the books his grandmother would read to him — and eventually, he would read them himself when he was grown enough to do so — back when he was a wee little boy.

The light teal lounge chair in the room was his grandma’s favourite. It was never just an ordinary lounge chair; to him, it was grandma’s. Grandma’s chair. The one she sat in from when she was an energetic old lady until she was a sickly and frail one. Alhaitham did not know if he was having hallucinations, but sometimes he swore he could see her sitting there, even after her passing.

His footsteps were light and nimble on the wooden floors. He approached the chair, feeling the soft carpet beneath his feet as he sat down. His body leaned back; he was relaxed. A soft smile played on his lips as he basked in the glorious morning light seeping through his window.

The silence in his home may have been deafening, but right now, he was at peace and content.

— ᯓᡣ𐭩 —

Alhaitham’s eyes fluttered open, his eyelashes that were previously resting peacefully on his face now more energetic than before. He had fallen asleep. The grandfather clock’s needles on his right showed him the time; 1:43 pm.

While he was cradled in the sweet arms of slumber, his left hand had landed atop a thick, hard-cover book on the small table beside his grandma’s chair. His widened eyes scanned the title, how did he not see this book when he came in? He prided himself on being observant regarding things he cared about, which is why he felt this was a bit bizarre.

‘The Star I Aim to Reach’ was written in big, clunky letters on the cover. The design was relatively simple. There were small drawings of stars and planets surrounding the title in white with a black background. Simple it may be, yet it was enough to capture his interest.

Alhaitham flipped the cover carefully after putting the book onto his lap. The words that greeted him were the ones he least expected.

‘Grandma’s Favourite Book’ was written on the very first page with black marker. Beneath it was a message written with a green pen. Neither his eyes nor his mind could deceive him; this was grandma’s handwriting.

Alhaitham’s eyes immediately wanted to read the passage in green. Green was the colour his grandma would use when she wanted to highlight important things to him, as it was the ‘colour of my beloved grandchild’s eyes’, as she always said.

The passage read:

‘My beloved grandchild, Alhaitham.

If you are reading this passage, then I am happier than a man who won the lottery. This is my final wish for you that I could not convey when I was alive. Forgive me, you were too young back then. It would have been inappropriate to entrust this to you when all you wanted to do was read and learn.

Read this book and find the girl whose entire world lies behind the curtains. Find the girl who works tirelessly to ensure others would smile, and befriend her. Should you want to go beyond the boundaries of friendship, I shall not reject her; and if you do not find her suitable to even be a friend, I shall not reject you.

Many kisses,

Grandma’

Alhaitham shut the book close. What in the world was his grandma talking about?

Thank you for reading!

[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

Baby’s first kick

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x fem!reader

Summary: Bob comes home from his posting to find you asleep.

Word count: 1k

“Darlin’ I’m home…”

Closing the door to the entrance of his shared house he called out to you. He had only been gone for a few months but goddamn it felt like a lifetime. A lifetime away from the his sunshine.

“Honey?”

He shifted further into the house upon hearing nothing but radio silence. Putting his keys in the teal, porcelain bowl on the mahogany drawer as he dropped his luggage near it. The hallway leading to the living room was silent. The stairs leading up to the first floor were stripped of any sight of you. Only containing pictures and framed memories of your lives, in snapshots.

He walked up to a particular one. His favourite. It was the day he graduated from Top Gun, he’d invited you and his parents and sisters to see him in his big day. It was you and him in the picture, him kneeling on one knee with a ring box in his hand as you stood there, baffled. A hand on your mouth and tears streaming down your face. The other hand held in Bob’s as he slid the ring on your finger. A smiling reflection was watching him back as he went to move up the stairs.

Carefully climbing up as he examined every photo that lined along the staircase. A picture of you and him on his parents’ ranch when you both were teenagers. You were wearing his cowboy hat. Staring at him while he straddled you. He had tried to help you up the horse but you ended up tripping and both of you fell face down on top of each other. His sister had taken that one, telling you both that it was too perfect of a shot to miss.

A little further up and it was yours and his family gathered at an annual summer barbecue, years ago. It was a weeks before he was due to be shipped off. You and him were in the middle of a makeshift dance floor, your head on his shoulder, his hand in yours as the other held your waist. His cheek rested on top of your head, both of your eyes closed as you took in the moment. That day his mother had pulled him aside and gave him her mother’s ring, a family heirloom for the right girl.

“I knew that girl was right for you the second you came home from your first day at school, blabbering about this beautiful girl that wanted to sit with you at lunch.”

It took him years to build up the courage to ask you. “The right time, son.” His dad had told him.

As he ascended the last few steps he came across to the newest edition to the “memory walk” (you had tried to name the thing). A black and white picture, that was a little blurry and pixilated but you could just make out the outline of a head. The head of an infant. His baby. Your baby.

He smiled to himself as he moved further up, finally coming onto the first floor of the house. He noticed the door to your shared bedroom was open wide. As he entered he noticed a blanket spread out, under it; you were sleeping soundlessly, a hand in your swollen belly. God, he had missed so much of your pregnancy.

The sun rays pattered down sneakily from behind the curtains, a fresh breeze of wind blew past him, causing him to shudder and you to shift under your blanket to get away from it. He smiled, a soft loving smile. He walked to his side, making sure to not step on certain floorboards to avoid any noise that’ll wake you. Slipping into his side, his hands moved to your waist towards your belly. He heard a gasp leave your mouth as you woke to see who the intruder was.

“Rob! Jesus you scared the shit out of me!” You screeched before sitting up and pulling him into your arms tightly. Burying your face into his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you carefully.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to scare ya’.” The southern drawl was one of the things you had missed about him. But that smell, his smell was something you could never get enough of. Clad in his clothes this very moment, and you still couldn’t get enough.

The two of you broke off from the hug but Bob held you close, his hands moving further up to cup your face. Thumbs tracing cheeks and under eye. He looked you dead in the eyes, those damn eyes. He could never get enough of you. Not just your body but your personality, the way you talked when you were passionate about something. But damn those eyes always managed to knock him out everytime you made eye contact.

“You look beautiful.” He mumbled before leaning in to kiss you. He felt you let out a sigh, as if finalising that he wasn’t a dream. That he was here, really here.

His lips were soft against yours, fitting perfectly. Your fingers danced their way up his chest to his hair, running through it. Heavy breaths and content sighs were all that could be heard through the room as he pulled away from you. Pressing a small kiss to your forehead before resting it against his.

“I missed you both, so much.” He panted. One of his hands made home onto your stomach. Trying to feel something. Before his hand stopped a few centimetres above your belly button. He moved his hand up and down on that spot, as if he were petting it.

“We missed you too, daddy.” As if on cue, you felt something kick against your stomach, the same spot his hand was on. You looked at him with wild eyes, mouth dropping slightly. This was their first kick.

“How did you-“

“Call it a father’s intuition, honey.” He replied smugly. Pulling away from you to put himself right in front of your belly. “Hey, champ. Did you give your mamma a hard time?”

You thought that it was ridiculous of him to talk to the baby when they couldn’t hear him. But all was proven wrong when you felt another kick. You out a gasp, looking down at Bob who wore the same expression. You pushed glasses back up his nose as he peppered small kisses all over your belly, making you laugh. His eyes held so much love in them. You thought it was safe to say that maybe the baby could hear him.

Taglist:

@lemur46

@bussyslayer333

[fayetape]

Flame by Fayetape - Chapter 2: The Games

Finnick Odair x Reader

Word count: 1446

CW: Early Sexualization of Finnick, angst, death, very minor gore.

Summary of series: Reader and Finnick met when they were very young. They experience the horrors of Panem together as they grow up. Throughout the years they fight for a happy ending. Whatever that may look like… Angst/Fluff/Smut/Series/Minimal use of Y/N!

Authors note: Time jump coming next chapter!! Thank you guys for reading my first ever series :) Open to kind & constructive criticism. Hope u enjoy -Faye

Hugging her knees into her chest she sat on the hardwood floors of her living room watching the light move through the gossamer curtains. She watched the light move like ocean waves towards her and away. Tomorrow was Finnick's games. Sixty fifth fucking annual hunger games. The more she thought about it the angrier she grew. She could physically feel herself moving through the stages of grief rapidly. Denial. Anger. Angry at the capitol. Angry at the crowd. Nobody volunteered for him. Angry at Finnick. He left her. She knew it was stupid, he couldn’t help it. Bargaining and depression. Acceptance. Finnick was going to die. She was going to be alone again.

Her mother turned on the TV. An old boxy television with a blurred screen. It glitched and flashed black and white static before making out a blurry figure of the one and only Caesar Flickerman. She watched as he danced around the stage happily. Sparkling blue hair moving across the screen. It pissed her off even more. Seeing someone so happy interviewing these people as they’re being put to death. Seeing these people act so cocky as if they’re going to win. She knew at least a handful of them would get their hands on Finnick in some way. She was seething. A district three girl walked on stage wearing a chrome and bright teal accented dress. She looked as ridiculous as the announcer lady at the reaping. Y/N rolled her eyes. The girl bragged about how intelligent she is and how she came from a rich family. She would get a good amount of sponsors. Caesar kissed her hand and sent her off stage before announcing,

“Next up! Finnick Odair!” he laughed, “Come out here, boy!”

Finnick walked confidently out onto the stage putting his hand up to give a quick wave to the audience before sitting down.

“So Finnick, what makes you think you can win the games?” he asked without introduction.

“Think?” Finnick laughed, “Caesar I KNOW I can win the games. It's more about how I decide to win.”

This confidence was so unlike him. He had always been secure in himself, but not like this. Must have been a front.

“And how's that?” Caesar asked.

“Well it would be stupid of me to give that away now wouldn’t it? Let’s just say I have a couple tricks up my sleeve.”

Caesar grabbed a hold on Finnick’s sleeve. He was dressed in what looked to be a sailor or pirate look. Long, flowy white shirt and pants with a thick brown corset belt separating the two fabrics. He was wrapped in heavy fisherman's rope that looked crystalized, like it had been in the ocean too long.

“Oh and how we would love to see what’s up these sleeves!” Caesar flirted.

Disgusting. She could tell Finnick was uneasy, reading his microexpressions. Finnick just laughed.

“Well Finnick, we already know you have a good shot at winning. What’s the first thing you’re doing as soon as you get home?”

Her eyes lit up. Home.

“Well first, I’m gonna do the victory tour of course. Then I’ll see my friends and family. Maybe I’ll buy them all a new house with all the money I’ll earn.”

“You really are confident in your win, Odair!”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve spent my childhood training for these games. Even if I didn’t get reaped I was going to volunteer anyway.”

The crowd gasped.

“Volunteer?”

“I’m here to win Caesar. Whatever it takes. I’m good with weapons, archery, in hand to hand, good in water-”

Caesar cut him off, “Are you good in bed?” He chuckled, “Only kidding of course. We’ll wait until you’re eighteen.”

What the hell?

Finnick just smiled, “Well I’ll look forward to it.” Finnick looked out at the crowd and winked.

“Finnick Odair everyone!”

The crowd cheered. What the hell was that? He exited the stage with a sly smile. That wasn’t like him at all. Why was Caesar being so… suggestive?

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Her mother woke her up early to get ready to go to the town. Mandatory watch day. She cried and clung to her bed. Denial. Bargaining. Anger. Depression. She sat up. Feet dangling off the foot of her bed. She threw on a light blue plaid day dress. Observing closely she could see light tea colored stains splattered on the hem of the skirt. Another day where she and Finnick explored the fields. She looked down sadly and headed outside. Once again bypassing her mother. Walking towards the field filled her with so much emotion. Anger. Depression. Anger. She started running towards the field as if she would start to fly. But she didn’t. Once out of breath she collapsed onto the dirt, hugging her knees into her chest once again, breathing heavily. The view of the horizon was blurred from the tears welling in her eyes. She aggressively tore out the roots of grass surrounding her, making quiet ripping sounds and marking her hands with green. Putting a hand over her own mouth she screamed a muffled cry. She sat for a few more minutes staring out in the distance before heading back to town. Her mother caught her half way towards the screening. She didn’t question her, knowing how much pain this poor girl must be in. They took their seats. Old lawn chairs and some fancier recliners. Peacekeepers lined the town. After what felt like forever, the games began.

The camera panned around the arena. First thing she noticed was Finnick. He was dressed in all black. Plain black t shirt, plain black cargos. She recognized the outfit from his limited wardrobe. The arena could have been beautiful if it didn’t have the implications of a bloodbath. Rocky, forested mountains that drop down to a rocky beach. Mountain mist coated the surface of the trees. The tributes were lined in a circle near the cliff’s edge.

And in 5

4

3

2

1… The tributes all raced towards the center to get ahold of all sorts of deadly weapons and survival kits. Finnick sprinted towards the center and grabbed a backpack and a spear, fighting off a dark haired boy from district 8. She couldn’t watch the gore. All she wanted to know was if he was alive. She kept her eyes gazing at the side of the screen so not to witness the destruction while not looking down.

=-=-=-=-=-=

The cannons sounded out the tributes dead. Seven. Finnick had found a hole deep in the woods. He stacked leaves and rocks on top of his makeshift fort to keep himself hidden as he rested for the night. During the first few days he managed to fight off five tributes that earned him a gash across his nose and cheek. It’s been four days already. His sponsors have spoiled him with expensive gifts from french bread to designer medicine. He never wanted for anything. He was quite comfortable. The other tributes haven’t realized how deadly he had been. They seem to be more concerned with the older career packs. This gave him an advantage like no other. He took on the role of being a deadly force hidden in plain sight. Finnick wasn’t one to make allies. He knew that he would form an attachment. He recognized that he could lose sponsors if he gave up his “tough-guy act” and the loss of sponsors could be fatal for him.

He was one of the last alive. Day six he woke up to an expensive gift from one of his sponsors. A trident. It was one of the prettiest things he’d ever seen in person. Prettier than any jewel at the market or pearl he had caught. He couldn’t imagine what it must have cost. He tried not to think about it. Day eight he traveled to the top of the rocky mountain near the cliff side. Over the days he had weaved a net out of vines that he held up with tree branches. Weaving the net almost made him feel at home, sitting on the pier teaching the locals how to braid a fisher line. There were four tributes left including himself. He planned to lure the rest onto the cliff, capture them in his net and use his shiny new gift to finish them off. He used himself as bait, standing on the cliff pretending to be oblivious to his surroundings. Then they fall into the net where they meet their death. He tried not to think about death. He tried not to think about guilt. In a matter of hours, Finnick Odair was crowned the youngest victor of the Hunger Games.

[colderdrafts]

20: Surprise

The Great Assembly, gender neutral reader x monster (male naga). Sfw. Tw for violence, blood. First Previous Next

You let out a startled yell and dash for the door, but the goo is faster, attaching itself to your back before you reach the handle. A strange wet sensation follows as it pulls you backward further into it. In a second it covers most of your upper body, only your nose poking out and allowing for air.

You fumble around inside it, looking down a the strange teal keeping your body in place, and realize the color is familiar. It seems Irwin's uncanny ability to see through people missed for this particular partially see-through slime.

Fueled by anger from this betrayal, you struggle with all your might, hands grasping for something to hold on to. Your fingers close the curtain of the shower and you accidentally tear it off in the confusion, using the sink for footing and jumping backwards in an attempt at escape. Marcus’ gelatinous body moves with you, stubborn gooey tendrils locking around your arms and pinning them in place.

That’s when the handle of the door to the bathroom suddenly starts jostling rapidly, and you can hear Amren’s gravelly voice, muffled through the jelly, calling out to you.

You try speaking, but the only sound that escapes you is an odd muffled gurgle, like speaking underwater. You splutter when you can taste the slime keeping you trapped, oddly sweet.

Your strangled sounds seems to encourage something in Amren however.

A loud crash echoes through the bathroom as he forcefully barrels into the door, breaking open the lock with wood splinters flying through the room.

It slams into the wall, cracking several tiles, and Marcus moves you back into the corner to avoid debris scattered from it's impact.

There’s a brief pause as you lock eyes with Amren, imposing silhouette illuminated by the bathroom lights against the dark of the hallway. Realizing the situation, he slithers inside, towering over you both and baring his teeth. “You filthy little - let them go. Now.”

Surprisingly, Marcus follows the order and suddenly leaps off of you. The force of his movement pushes you back in the shower, leaving your skin somewhat sticky. He lands on top of and attaches himself to Amren instead.

The naga hisses in surprise, and pulls back into the living room for space to move in an effort to stop Marcus’ body that's rapidly covering him.

You get your bearings and dash out to follow, and watch Amren thrashing around in an effort to pry Marcus off. The slimy substance shifts with him, spreading like a stubborn weed.

You look around for anything to help, something that will get Marcus to let go without hurting Amren – how do you even damage something that’s basically a controlled liquid?

A faint memory of Elise threatening him pops into your mind – she said something about 'boiling him alive', didn’t she?

Your eyes dart for the tea Amren made earlier, and you spot the pot still on the counter. You'll have to hope the thing retains heat well - it’s the best you’ve got.

You narrowly dodge past Amren’s tail as it sweeps across the living room floor, heading toward the kitchen. Quickly, you snatch the pot off the counter and open the lid. Steam rises from it, thankfully.

You rush toward the monstrous pair struggling in the middle of the living room, and hurl the contents of the teapot at the assailant, hoping it’ll at least be enough to startle Marcus without burning Amren.

The hot liquid splashes against Marcus droopy form. Like some sort of melting ice, the substance seemingly thins where you hit him. He lets out a squealing noise in pain.

Amren growls, sensing the opportunity, and breaks one arm free from the thinning slime. He angrily claws at Marcus, tearing chunks of slime from his body and throwing the pieces against the wall with a splat.

It seems to work for a moment, though Marcus proves quick to reform. A oddly sweet scent wafts through the air as stubbornly, the torn pieces shift and writhe, attaching to each other again. Seems you’d need more water than that.

They leap back at Amren to re-join the fight, focusing on restricting his arms and tail. You can see him trying to get his tail around Marcus for defense, yet the slime simply slips through his coils and reforms whenever he tightens it. Amren’s strongest weapon has been rendered more or less useless. In one fluid motion, the slime on Amren's chest yanks upwards, and covers his face.

There’s an unpleasant strangled noise coming from Amren, and he now furiously throws his face against the walls to get rid of the slime interrupting his airflow, struggling for breath.

The sight lets you throw all caution to the wind. You leap in to help him, trying to grip at Marcus’ body, focusing on the parts around Amren's shoulders - the slime slips through your fingers like waving through thick water.

A second later, Amren’s slime-covered tail is curled around your stomach. You don’t get a sound out before a powerful swing knocks the wind out of you as he purposely flings you backwards. You sail through the air, landing hard on your behind a ways away on the other side of the living room. You narrowly miss banging you head against the wall.

You prop up on your elbows and stare at him from your spot on the floor, dazed. Amren stares back.

Then, you see his eyes go dark in a way you've seen them go dark once before. Dread settles in your core as you know exactly what's going to happen to him next.

"Marcus -” you warn, scrambling to get back to your feet, maintaining eye contact with Amren, trying to find him in there. “Marcus you need to let him go right now-!"

You reach out, but the uncanny lack of recognition in Amren's eyes stops you in your tracks, sending a chill down your spine. There's an animus ferocity in that expression, a flaring anger that will not be satiated by anything but your demise.

And you realize, if Marcus lets go of him, there’s nothing you can do to stop him.

The desperate thrashing about before is nothing compared to the level of furious movement Amren moves about with now. Clawing, biting and tearing at Marcus' entire body, tail knocking the furniture to kingdom come and uncaring who's in the way. Tables are flipped, pictures torn off the walls, lamps and decorations are shattered. You manage to duck underneath a chair hurled your direction, feeling the wind of it passing over your head. The sound of the wood splintering as it hits the wall and is smashed into pieces accompanies the hair-raising guttural snarling.

To counter, Marcus generates strong tendrils that stubbornly sticks to the walls, still attached to Amren and trying desperately to restrain his rampaging. His face is still covered, obstructing his airflow.

Marcus' voice reaches you, despite him not having a visibly molded face, almost squealing; "Call her, and I'll let him breathe!''

You don't hesitate. Amren's lost control because his body believes he's about to die, and for all you know, he might be. You dash toward the kitchen counter, ducking underneath Amren’s still writhing tail, heart racing. You snatch Irwin’s phone off the counter, and dive behind cover of the kitchen island just as items around the house start flying again. With shaking fingers, you type in March 3rd, find the message Mira sent you and dial.

“Well, well, this is quite the mess we have on our hands, isn’t it?” Mira says cheerily as she enters the house, casually stepping over the broken pieces of a picture frame. She places herself conveniently blocking your way to the door, calmly glancing at the scattered and destroyed items sprawled all over the living room.

It didn't take more than a few minutes for Mira to arrive after your call. It would seem this was a coordinated effort.

Those few minutes have not been easy for any of you.

You’re hiding behind the kitchen island still, staring at Amren and trying to wrack your brain for anything you can do, infuriatingly coming short of a quick solution. Unless Amren snaps out of it, even you can’t get close to him. And if Marcus actually let him loose, who’s to say what sort of damage he would do?

You hear Mira suppressing a low growl in the back of her throat when she looks at Amren. He replies with a ferocious hiss, locking his focus on her at the sound. In a lightning quick motion he roughly pulls, clawing his way towards her, making Marcus scream as he's suddenly stretched dangerously thin.

Mira snarls, hackles raised as he does, and she takes a wary step back in anticipation. Though a second later Marcus regains control and reels Amren back in like a particularly stubborn catfish. He remains stuck against the wall, yet still giving Marcus a run for his money.

Mira regains her composure. “Good work, slime boy. You be a dear and keep that nasty beast occupied, hmm?" she says.

"Easy for you to say!" Marcus howls. He has seemingly managed to weaken Amren enough from lack of oxygen that he’s still wrangled in a corner, yet Amren’s rampage is still going strong, wildly tearing at Marcus’ body. At least he's allowed breath, albeit partially obstructed.

His face contorts like he's in pain.

Instinctively you reach out again, though Mira quickly stops you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back.

"That's not a very good idea, friend," she hums, brandishing her teeth. "He might just kill you."

You stare at Amren’s condition in full flare, clouding his mind to desperately fight for his survival. You know what this is now, you can still see him in there, that little spark of a person who’s just so utterly alone in the world, constantly fighting for his right to even remain in it. His rage is as terrifying as it is sad, and though everything about him speaks of your imminent demise, there’s nothing you want more than to just hold him, tell him everything’s going to be alright.

As if you could ever, ever solve this for him.

You angrily shake off Mira’s dirty paws, and turn to stare at her. “You won, okay? I’m right here, just let him go! He’s in pain!”

“He won’t be for long,” another voice sounds, and someone else enters Amren’s house.

You recognize the stout man avoiding a chunk of wall hurled in his general direction and joining Mira's side. He carries the same uniform and badge he wore the first time you saw him, though now his aura seems less like that of a 'concerned officer'. He takes in the violent scene unfolding in front of him with cool indifference, without so much as raising an eyebrow.

“You-!” you hiss.

Officer Rolan waves you off impatiently. “Yeah, yeah, me, whatever.” He eyes Mira. “You about done here?"

Mira nods, and smiles at you. “Yep!”

“And the snake?” Rolan asks, nodding at the obvious safety hazard hissing and snarling in the corner.

“Doesn’t matter!” Mira affirms.

“Alright then.”

Rolan casually takes out a pistol from his belt, and, in a well-practiced stance, points it directly at Amren still struggling against Marcus. Without skipping a beat, he pulls the trigger.

“No!”

Your cry is muffled by the booming noise of the gun going off, bullet whizzing across the room. It pierces through the goopy teal of Marcus’ body, and continues straight into Amren’s chest. He lets out a strangled wheeze.

“NO!” you roar again, throwing all care of self preservation to hell, avoiding Mira's claws and dashing toward him.

There’s an odd second of silence where Amren finally stands still, his body slowly recognizing what’s happened to him. Marcus is squirming and writhing as if in pain, seemingly finding it difficult to reform himself from the sudden impact, small drops of goo pattering to the floor.

Amren stares at your approach somewhat confused, dazed, as blood starts pouring from the wound and into the slime covering his chest. He tries to breathe, but the raspy gurgle that accompanies the action doesn’t bode well. He goes down limply, taking Marcus with him.

“No-no-no-no-,” you mutter like a mantra when you reach him, on your knees, palming over his face, neck, scooping Marcus' pooling substance aside to free his airways completely. Some blood escapes the slime and paints the floor crimson. Amren stares up at you, expression blank.

You remember the sticker covered phone in your hands, and go to dial for help, as something strong grips around your shoulders. You're roughly thrown to the floor, knocking your head on the floorboards. An uncanny smack rattles inside your head as a hot pains shoots through your skull. You register a sound of faint hissing as stars dance in front of your eyes.

“Careful, idiot!” Mira growls. You can hear the clacking of her claws on the floorboard as she hurries over to you. “They said to keep them unharmed.”

“Relax, mutt. It’s just a bruise,” Rolan replies nonchalantly, crouching over you, a knee on your back to hold you down. You feel Irwin's phone snatched from your hands, and your own removed from your pocket. Rolan stands up and backs away at Mira's approach.

You feel her paws on you, cautious. Regaining some sense, you turn over, and knock your elbow against her face. She recoils, caught off guard, and you use the distraction to get to your feet, and rush toward Rolan in a blind rage.

His eyes widen at your advance, and he deftly plants his feet to meet you, catching your fists before they can land heavy blows in his face.

Mira comes up behind you, locking her arms under yours and pulling you off him.

“Knock it off,” Mira hisses in your ear, a hand coming up to cover your mouth. She snarls at Rolan. “Are you daft? That stupid gun can be heard from miles away!”

“Exactly. You'd better get moving,” Rolan deadpans, and walks toward the door. He talks over his shoulder. “You have about twenty minutes until my guys arrive. Remember to share the cut, wolfie.”

And just like that, he leaves.

“Coyote," Mira corrects him with a low snarl, watching him go. "Sorry about him,” she whispers to you. “And about this.”

She snakes her arm around your throat and starts squeezing, and you find the scene is eerily familiar. Except you’re on the receiving end this time.

“Shh, shh,” Mira hums in your ear when you start struggling and clawing at her arm, ripping tufts of fur from her skin. She suppresses a grunt in pain. “I’m just putting you to sleep. It's not the same, it won't kill you.”

Realizing it’s not working you shift slightly, and elbow her ribs instead. This time she cannot conceal her agony and yelps loudly, instantly increasing the force with which she’s strangling you.

“Clever, hitting my weak spot,” she growls, disbanding any soothing behavior. You can feel her warm breath on the side of your face, the wet of her teeth against the skin there like a cruel reminder. “You’ll hopefully calm down once you’re finally home.”

Words you don’t fully register, you kick at her shins, dizzy as dark spots start clouding your vision.

Soon, it takes over, and you go out feeling nothing but the warmth of Mira’s fur against your neck.

The idle rumbling noise of a car is the first thing you hear again, gradually coming back to your senses. Trying to move, the next sensation is how oddly difficult it is to do so. Your body seems heavy, and your arms won’t separate. Something is digging into the skin on your wrists when you try, and you realize your hands are bound, fastened behind your back. Trying your feet, it’s the same result. Your mouth is uncomfortably dry, and you bite down on a piece of fabric. Finally, you crack open an eye.

You're in the backseat of a car, hidden beneath a heavy blanket. You can see the sky through a car window, black and starry. It’s still night, though you have no idea how long you’ve been out.

And the reality of the situation settles with you, reminding you of what has transpired tonight. You start struggling against the binds as anger and fear fills you.

You can make out the silhouette of canine features in the driver's seat. Mira must be taking you somewhere.

She glances back at you through the rear-view mirror at your stirring. A passing streetlight illuminates her teeth as she smiles.

"We're almost there," she says calmly, as if soothing an unruly child.

You splutter profanities through the gag in your mouth, to which Mira chuckles.

"I know, I know. Not the most pleasant experience, but not to worry, you'll be out of there soon enough," she reassures you. She considers you for a moment. "Promise you'll mind your manners? I'll take the gag off for you. I wanna chat for a bit."

You growl in the back of your throat, but reluctantly nod to agree. You kinda want to chat with her too.

Mira reaches back, eyes still on the road, and carefully traces a hand over your cheek to find the gag. The sharps tips of her claws slow momentarily as she passes by the scar there. She pulls the fabric down swiftly.

You cough, wetting your dry mouth and spitting out the taste of stale cloth. You blurt the first thing that comes to mind. "Fuck you."

Mira laughs. "Right to the point, are we? Rude."

You glare at her, testing the binds on your hands again. They don’t budge. "Where are you taking me?"

"Home, silly,” she replies, casually orienting herself before taking a right turn. “Unfortunate it had to go like this, though. You should have just taken me up on the offer, then all of this could have been avoided."

“I should have just let you get killed,” you snarl at her.

“But you didn’t,” Mira replies, and shrugs. “And for that, I thank you, dear friend.”

You glance around the car, considering your options. The toned windows and your lack of movement leaves much to be desired. You consider disturbing her driving enough to cause a crash, but would that just mean you go down with her? You wrinkle your nose. Your skin still feels oddly sticky from when Marcus was attached to you.

"How many people were in on this?" you ask.

You hadn't really expected her to answer your questions, but surprisingly she hums in thought, considering how to best put it.

"You make acquaintances in the most odd ways in my line of work. But I'm guessing you're thinking about the slime, right?” Mira replies. “Funny enough, he came to me with the most intriguing proposition. I figured I could use a different approach to get rid of your new partner."

Mira seethes the last word a little stronger than perhaps necessary, subtly shifting in her seat. You look her over, and find she’s gripping the steering wheel just a bit tighter.

“He scares you,” you realize. “You’re afraid of him.”

Mira eyes you glumly through the rear-view mirror, ignoring your statement. “Couldn't risk that slithering ball of rage meddling again, could we? Pretty impressive you got him playing sentinel, though, even when you know how dangerous he is. What better way to neutralize a crushing machine than with someone that can’t be crushed?" she says. "So, I had Marcus here get you out somewhere nice and secluded, and help take him down. And he did so well, didn’t he? Tried to get poor Irwin and his brother back. How sweet.”

His brother? Supposedly that explains Marcus knowing of the trafficking business in the first place. And still, it led to nothing.

The memory of the gun going off and Amren’s limp body on the floor comes crashing back into the front of your mind, and you bare your teeth at her as angry tears threaten to spill.

"And you killed him," you spit. "You killed both of them!"

Mira shrugs. "Self defence, dearest.”

“Self-defense? Are you fucking serious?” you protest. “They got shot in cold blood-!”

Mira interrupts you with a cool chortle. “Irwin goes missing, and his poor best friend, left behind and so scared, tricked into teaming up with the monster responsible?”

You frown, cautious. What is she on about?

Mira smiles at your confusion, casually continuing: “The slime love interest comes looking for revenge, they get in a fight - brave Rolan investigating the noise complaint. He finds the slime attempted to restrain an active Feral nutcase and was killed for it? How can Rolan do anything but defend himself when the insane culprit comes at him too, hmm?”

You blink. They can’t seriously be spewing it like this.

“And the poor hum he's been hanging around went missing as well - who's to say that nasty snake hasn't killed you too, and hidden your body somewhere? What a tragedy," Mira finishes, lowering her ears in a mock display of sadness.

You still, taking in the information. Of course. Of course they'd pin it on him.

"No one will buy that," you seethe, struggling against the binds. Partially to convince yourself. "People will know something is wrong-!"

"Wrong with the weird recluse who abandoned his well-standing family? Who has a history of violence because of a medical condition that makes him extremely dangerous?” Mira cogs an eyebrow, like you’re being silly. “Sweetheart, everyone's seen you together, you being so nice and taken advantage of. They found both your phones in his house, remember? Sure. Find me a better story that makes sense, I'll wait."

People tend to assume the worst when it comes to monsters like me, and I think we best just leave it at that.

"No one knows what really happened on that mountain, why no one's seen you two for the few days you were there. What nasty things could he have done to you in that time? And he just happens to know the area so well, doesn't he?" she smiles. "What an advantage. He's dead now, thankfully. He'll never hurt anyone ever again."

The thought strikes your core, the refusal to acknowledge it stuck in your senses. Dead. Murdered. You pull at the binds in a rage, kicking at the back of her seat. Anything to knock that smirk off her face.

Mira watches you calmly. "Settle down. Want me the crash the car and kill us both?"

"If it removes people like you from this world it's FINE!" you yell, giving a last decisive kick to her seat.

Mira reaches back and put her claws around your thigh, squeezing painfully. You gasp as you feel the claws pierce through fabric and skin.

"In reality, sweetie?" Mira growls dangerously, patience running thin. "No one cares about the nice ones. Soon, you'll be a headline in the newspaper. You'll pass in conversation, and nothing more. No one will come for you, so you might as well settle in here where you at least have a purpose," she sneers. Then she smiles again, friendly mask back in its place. "You'll be making someone very happy. Isn't that something to look forward to?"

Mira turns the car, and the flashes of passing streetlights diminish. Darkness returns to the car. You're off the main road.

You grunt, shaking off her paw. You can feel the liquid heat spreading as small splotches of blood starts staining your pant leg from the inside. You ignore it in favor of glaring at her. "Who?"

Mira hums, regaining composure. "Someone very special to you. Oh right, I almost forgot. They told me to tell you they forgive you for abandoning them."

You blood freezes to ice. You stare at her, wide-eyed.

Mira either doesn’t notice your sudden change in expression, or she simply doesn’t care. "They wouldn't tell me any details, but you can be sure you've been missed!" she laughs. "I'm so happy I could bring the two of you back together!"

"No," you wheeze. You struggle against the binds again, feeling the rope dig into your wrists, but the pain doesn’t matter. You have to get out of here right now. "No, Mira, please, you can't take me there, you don't understand-!"

"I understand love's complicated," she interrupts you, sighing. "But you'll figure it out together, hmm? Don't ruin all my hard work."

She turns a corner, promptly ignoring your protests.

You need to get the hell out of this car.

Looking around, you see you're somewhere on a road deep inside the dark of a forest, though you have no idea what forest that might be. You keep working at the rope, wrists sore from pulling and tearing at your skin.

Too little too late, however - the moon returns to illuminate your path forward, revealing a destination.

The ground turns to gravel, and you can feel the car slow as Mira pull up to what you assume must be an entryway. Out the window, you spot a silhouette of a very large building.

'Building' doesn't exactly do it justice, it’s borderline a mansion. It’s hard to tell details under cover of night, but it seems there’s two floors, a large main building and attached two smaller houses on the premises. The silent, dark 'building 'home' looms over you.

You desperately scan around the area, feeling the walls closing in as you get nearer to the dreaded mansion, plan of escape in the front of your mind. If you could just get your legs free, you could bolt the second this car door opens – you plan’s vaporized, however, as you spot several pairs of glaring red eyes around the area in the dark, staring in your direction curiously.

The sight is uncomfortably close to something you’ve seen before, only there’s more of them now. It would seem this area is teeming with boar beasts. There’s no way you’d outrun a pack of them.

Unaffected, Mira drives into a large garage, sealing your fate.

She opens the passenger door, and reaches for your legs, ignoring your spluttering and kicking at her. Her claws grip you tightly, and she yanks you out of there impatiently.

You don't even make it to the floor. The second you leave the car something you didn't hear coming is behind you. Something tough wraps around your middle, snatching you from Mira’s grasp and into the darkness under the ceiling. You even hear Mira let out a surprised yelp from the scare as her claws superficially rake over your arms, losing her grip on you.

A hot breath like a greeting across your skin, and something sharp pierces your shoulder. An eerie numbness spreads, your scream stuck in your throat. In just a few seconds of pitiful struggle, you're immobilized, nothing in your body is responding to your command to move. A second later, something soft covers your eyes and you’re blind to the world.

[elliemarchetti]

Gwynriel Weeks Day 5

I know today's prompt for @gwynrielweeksofficial was domestic life, and I kind of respected that, but I couldn't resist the opportunity to write this sort of fake dating AU

Prompt: Domestic Life

Words: 1064

Azriel opened his eyes slowly, annoyed by the pale sunlight coming through the decorative curtains. He had overslept, a unique occurrence, but the worst part was that he wasn't recognizing his surroundings. The room was too small, the bed definitely not his, and the light wooden door located in the wrong place, too close to the window, beyond which voices speaking an unknown language chattered softly. Instinct told him to sit up, to make sure there was no danger, and to chase away whoever was daring to peek into his privacy, but a familiar weight on his chest and left arm glued him to the mattress, its warmth comforting for both his body and his spirit.

“Good morning,” a female voice, still drenched in sleep, murmured, and Azriel remembered everything. The mission that could have resulted in a disaster, the cover story Gwyn had invented on the spot, the kind family that had found them on the borders, his injuries, and the priestess desperate plead for help. He heard her say they were a couple of diplomats returning from Vallahan, who had been tasked with managing delicate commercial relations but had been followed by criminals who had almost killed them.

"All for a stupid necklace," she had said, probably showing the pendant whose original recipient was in Prythian, in the arms of her red-haired mate. The lesser Fae believed her, and accompanied them to their village, where Azriel could wait for his right wing to recover.

“You were lucky,” their healer, a tall, lanky creature with long straw-blond hair, had told him. “If they had hit you closer to the shoulder I wouldn’t have known how to save your ability to fly.”

Azriel had shuddered at the thought, and Gwyn had immediately approached him, placing a delicate hand on his muscular arm. She had reassured him, and caressed his face, just like a worried lover. When she had left him alone to rest, she had returned with their hosts to the living room, which also served as the kitchen, and had helped them prepare dinner. They had given her a simple dress, a little worn but still her size, and an apron to avoid getting dirty, into the large pocket of which she had immediately begun to stuff fresh herbs from the small garden in the back. She had put her hair up in a soft braid, and had laughed and joked with the little ones at home, who had the same teal eyes as her and the dark skin of the Summer Court’s inhabitants.

“I would like to have wings like your boyfriend,” the youngest had told her. “So I could beat the other kids in running races.”

She hadn’t denied that their bond was romantic, she hadn’t shown the slightest sign of discomfort at the idea, and even though Azriel knew he didn’t deserve her, he kept spying on her from the crack of the door she had left open, and had listened to her tell to the youngling that even though she didn’t have wings, she was still the fastest among her friends.

Three nights had passed since that day, and although he was starting to get better and no longer felt strong pangs of pain when he tried to stretch his shoulders, he knew he couldn’t resume the mission. Gwyn had helped him with this too, to understand where to start again, how to contain the damage, but above all she had taken care of him like no one had ever done before. She helped him bathe, and get dressed, and she even fed him the first time he got up to eat, making him blush like a lovesick puppy. During the night she had asked him if she hadn’t gone too far, her voice little louder than a breath of wind, but he had reassured her by holding her close and giving her a long kiss on the forehead. The truth was that he liked that farce, he enjoyed the illusion of being able to have a normal life with her, a peaceful existence, where there were no wars, secret missions, enemies to face openly and allies whose loyalty had to be controlled with bargains and blackmail. If someone had told him he would have this kind of thoughts a few days earlier, he would’ve laughed in the face of anyone who dared picture him so weak, but now that he had experienced what it was like to have a normal life with the priestess, he couldn’t help but wish for a little house just for them in the middle of nothing, a place that hadn’t been given to him by Rhysand and that didn’t remind him of the past, maybe a cottage he'd built with his own hands, though he wasn’t sure they knew how to make something so pure. For her, he could’ve learned. With her, perhaps he could forget the horrors of his childhood, and ennoble those bastard origins without being someone’s torturer. He was grateful to Rhysand for everything he had done for him, for saving his life and offering him food and shelter and protection, but working for him inevitably took away the daily life he longed to share with a partner. He could already imagine her walking around the house barefoot, relaxed, the smell of stew in the air and a child or two jumping around asking when dinner would be ready. For centuries, Azriel had been adamant on the issue of offspring: he had a terrible father, and he wasn’t going to be the same for an innocent creature. But with Gwyn…

“Everything okay? Are you feeling sick?” she asked, propping up on one elbow to get a better view of his face, and Azriel wondered what kept him from digging his hand into the flaming cascade of hair that had escaped from the silk tie, forming a puddle of harmless fire on his naked chest, to kiss her senseless. Decency and fairness would’ve been the right answer, but it was fear and guilt, so he just shook his head and told her he was simply hungry.

“I’ll go get you something for breakfast,” she murmured, and as if nothing had happened, as if sleeping together and being so close had been the most natural thing in the world, she got up, heading towards a kitchen that wasn’t theirs but could’ve been.

[msweebyness]

DuPont School for Monstrous Youths Intro

What's up, ya'll? As you know, I was inspired by Sparky's Creepsters Intro from a while back to make some for our other AU's! Here's the next in the line-up! @artzychic27 @imsparky2002

("Calling All the Monsters" begins to play. The camera shows a wide shot of a gothic palatial school, before lunging forward to zoom up to the building's massive front doors.)

(A human boy with bright green eyes and messy golden hair waves to the audience with a welcoming grin, pushing the doors open and beckoning us to come inside.)

*TITLE CARD: Adrien Agreste: Monster Ally, Human Sunshine*

(The camera swings around to where a cloth girl with pigtails made of yarn and large blue buttons for eyes stumbles to a stop in the hallway, giving the audience a shy wave with one hand and sheepishly clutching her arm with the other.)

*TITLE CARD: Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Voodoo Doll: Clumsy, but cute as a button*

(Marinette jumps before gaining a fond smile as a floating, transparent girl with eerie purple sclera and chains around her limbs phases through a wall to her side. The ghostly girl looks at the audience, winking with a smile as she snaps a picture with her cell.)

*TITLE CARD: Alya Cesaire, Ghost: Paranormal reporter with a spunky spirit*

(Alya bids Marinette a wave goodbye before she finds a green arm on the floor. She picks it up with a fond shake of her head and flies down the hall. We see a POV above Alya's head as she flies, and she stops in a room where several students are dancing. She tosses the arm across the room, and it lands in the outstretched hand of a green-skinned boy covered in stitching, who is operating a set of turntables. He attaches the arm before sending a jolt of electricity into the turntables with a huge grin, kicking the tunes up a notch.)

*TITLE CARD: Nino Lahiffe, Stein Monster: Stitched together to be the life of the party!*

(We hear high, girlish laughter, and Nino sends a jolt of electricity through a cord, which we follow to a large stage, where a set of bright pink curtains opens and reveals a skeletal girl with short blonde hair and a brilliant smile, twirling around as she belts a high note, until one of her hands flies off into the crowd.)

*TITLE CARD: Rose Lavillant, Skeleton: Sunshiney singer with punk rock in her bones!*

(The boney hand is caught by a jet-black bat with a purple streaked lock of hair over its forehead, which then swoops down to the stage, transforming into a tall girl with long black hair and deathly pale skin, who gives Rose a fanged smile before taking up her bass guitar.)

*TITLE CARD: Juleka Couffaine, Vampire: Queen of darkness who's batty on the bass!

(Another bat, this one with teal-streaked bangs swoops into the room with a musical shriek, before landing on the stage beside the two girls and transforming into a boy with a striking resemblance to Juleka, who flashes his own fangs in a grin before playing a deafening riff on his guitar.)

*TITLE CARD: Luka Couffaine, Vampire: Charming and cool vamp who lives to rock!

(Wafts of steam rise up through the floorboards, and we drop downward until we end up in an old-fashioned machine workshop, where a boy made entirely of copper is working on some gadgets at a table surrounded by tools and small parts. His face lights up with a smile as he finally works out an issue with his latest invention. His rocket boots fire up as he goes to show his friends.)

*TITLE CARD: Max Kante, Steam-Powered Robot: Old-fashioned chap with a talent for tech!*

(As Max jets down the hallway, a couple of older students smirk and prepare to trip him up...only to freeze in place as they become marble statues. The camera pans around to a short girl with coral snakes in place of hair, slipping a pair of dark shades back up to cover her reptilian blue eyes.)

*TITLE CARD: Alix Kubdel, Gorgon: Daredevil viper with a stony stare and a serious attitude!*

(A frisbee cuts across the screen, catching Alix's attention. She rolls her eyes as the camera zooms to focus on a tall, muscular boy with furry arms and a wagging wolf tail, panting as he chases after the frisbee, before letting out a loud howl as he jumps into the air.)

*TITLE CARD: Le Chien Kim, Werewolf: Oversized puppy who looks out for his pack!*

(Kim catches the frisbee in his teeth, before the camera follows him racing down the hall towards a large fountain with water so deep you can't see the bottom. As the werewolf approaches, a girl with wavy red hair and scaly blue skin rises from the water, giggling as Kim greets her by affectionately licking her cheek before she gives him a scratch behind the ears.)

*TITLE CARD: Ondine Rivas, Aquatic Monster: Fish out of water with a bubbly personality!*

(A thick cluster of vines covers the screen, before clearing to reveal a beautiful and vibrant greenhouse. The giant monstrous plants are being tended to by a petite girl with thick vines for hair and bright green skin. She hums a sweet song to herself as she waters a plant's roots.)

*TITLE CARD: Mylene Haprele, Plant Monster: Gentle flower child with two green thumbs!*

(Mylene gasps as a stray vine knocks a large flowerpot over a ledge, sending the plant hurtling toward the ground, only for a large gray hand to catch it midair. The camera zooms out to show a huge, burly boy with dark gray skin and forearms covered in white fur. He sets the pot down before looking up at Mylene, his surly expression changing to a gentle smile.)

*TITLE CARD: Ivan Bruel, Yeti: A mountain of a guy with a gentle heart!*

(The scene flashes back to the main hall, which is now filled with a whirlwind of sand, which parts to reveal someone in the center of it. Posing dramatically with her arms raised is a girl with tanned skin wrapped in bandages and adorned with lavish jewelry. She smiles smugly as she now holds everyone's attention.)

*TITLE CARD: Chloe Bourgeois, Mummy: "Mean" Queen of the halls with a softer side under her wraps!*

(Chloe squawks with slight indignation as she's lightly pushed to the side, and ushered towards the classroom by another mummy girl, this one wearing a white beanie and more casual attire, who rolls her eyes fondly at her sister's dramatic antics.)

*TITLE CARD: Zoe Lee, Mummy: Egyptian princess who'll never make you bow!*

(The camera pans back to the massive sand pile, where a girl with messy ginger hair and rotting skin picks up the book bag that Chloe accidentally left behind, shaking her head with fond exasperation as she adjusts her glasses, before heading down the hall with her head buried in a textbook.)

*TITLE CARD: Sabrina Raincomprix, Zombie: Shuffler with some serious BRAAAINS.*

(The camera pans upward and zooms into a cranny to reveal a pile of treasure in a small cave alcove, on top of which a girl with bronze scales and reptilian green eyes sits with a regal poise, using a blunt stone to sharpen her large horns.)

*TITLE CARD: Kagami Tsurugi, Dragon: A regal reptile with a slight hoarding issue!*

(We zoom out of the cave and up to a high tower of the school, where a boy made entirely of granite with shaggy red hair sits, sketching the scene of students walking into the school. His expression is cold and reserved, and his eyes carefully watch for any trouble arising.)

*TITLE CARD: Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Gargoyle: Dedicated sentry with a passion for the artistic!*

(Nathaniel's stony expression melts into a soft smile as he sees another boy flying up to his perch. The boy, who has adorably big green eyes and giant grey moth wings, sits next to Nathaniel, taking out his journal as the boyfriends share a quiet moment together.)

*TITLE CARD: Marc Anciel, Moth Monster: Shy and sweet writer who's just a bit jumpy!*

(A loud holler sounds from somewhere below the two, and the camera pans down to show a tall, dark-skinned student with wild curls and thick brown fur on their forearms. With a mighty bound, they leap over the school's high walls, high-fiving several students as they enter the halls.)

*TITLE CARD: Denise Cabello, Sasquatch: Big feet, bigger voice, biggest personality!*

(Denise fondly shakes their head as they watch a boy with messy red hair and a single, large green eye in the center of their forehead bump into a wall of lockers, his head having been buried in something he was doing on his tablet. Looking up, he adjusts his large, single-lens glasses.)

*TITLE CARD: Simon O'Connor, Cyclops: Techie who says one eye is better than two!*

(The scene changes to the school's observatory, where a girl with starry blue skin and silvery pigtails is looking through the large telescope into the sky. She turns to add some notes to the star map she is making.)

*TITLE CARD: Aurore Boreale, Extraterrestrial: Straight A student from a whole different world!*

(Aurore turns and smiles as bright blue ooze begins to rise up from a grate, taking the shape of a girl with tar-like black hair and loose-fitting clothes. With a frown, the girl pulls a few miscellaneous small objects out of her slimy skin.)

*TITLE CARD: Mireille Caquet, Slime Monster: Jiggly and shy sweetheart who leaves a trail behind!*

(The scene changes and the camera is skimming along the high walls of the school, where a girl with bright yellow skin and a pixie cut made of leaping flames is doing impressive parkour stunts, leaping from surface to surface.)

*TITLE CARD: Lacey Greene, Fire Elemental: A real hothead who never turns down a challenge!*

(The screen is covered by a thick velvet curtain, which is then pulled back to show a large stage in the center of the school's vast catacombs. A rousing tune is being played on a massive pipe organ by a ghostly boy with pale purple skin and a bedazzled half mask over the left side of his face.)

*TITLE CARD: Jean DuParc, Phantom: Snazzy spirit with a heart full of song!*

(Jean smiles lovingly at a boy sitting on the body of the pipe organ, listening in content to the song his boyfriend is playing. He wears a long cloak and taps the end of his scythe on the floor to the tempo of the music, before blushing as Jean pulls out a black rose to offer him.)

*TITLE CARD: Austin Tomassian, Reaper: Showing us death is nothing to be afraid of!*

(We cut back to a hallway in the school, where a gargoyle boy with badly coiffed blond hair and clad in varying shades of purple is running with a fearful look on his face as he's holding a red cloak. The camera pans behind him and we see a student with dark curls, large horns and hooves in place of feet charging after him with an enraged snort.)

*TITLE CARD: Cosette Bellamy, Minotaur: Run the other way when they're seeing red!*

(The camera pans up to the ceiling, and we see a large collection of massive spider webs, in the center of which sits a girl with six red eyes and six arms. She holds a set of knitting needles in each set of hands.)

*TITLE CARD: Reshma Leghari, Arachnoid: Spider Lady with seriously stylish threads!*

(Reshma hears a purring sound behind her and turns with a smile to see her best friend stretched out on a ledge. Batting a cat toy between his hands, a boy with black cat ears and a feline tail gives the spider girl a cheeky smile.)

*TITLE CARD: Ismael Prisk, Werecat: Snarky kitty with a mind for mischief*

(We change to a shot of two classroom doors. A woman with a flaming ginger hair and mismatched legs knocks on the door, holding the head of a woman with purple hair. A woman's headless body comes to the door, taking the head from the other woman and placing it on her neck, before the two share a laugh.)

*TITLE CARD: Caline Bustier, Empousa & Olga Mendeliev, Headless Horsewoman: DuPont's top teachers and total mama bears*

(A bright ray of light shines in through a stained-glass window, which opens to allow a girl with glowing eyes and flaming wings to fly in, working on sketches for her latest cartoon, a bright smile on her face.)

*TITLE CARD: Ayesha Reynolds, Angel: Ray of sunshine descended from the heavens above!*

(We zoom over to a corner, where a boy with crimson skin and large devil horns sits with his legs crossed in the center of a ring of hellfire, deep in meditation. His eyes suddenly open, giving us a mischievous smirk.)

*TITLE CARD: Anthony Mathis, Daemon: Born to be wicked, but good at heart!*

(The camera zooms in the doors of the front office, where a stack of documents appears to be floating through the room. We hear the sound of fingers snapping, and a girl suddenly appears holding the papers, her limbs translucent at the ends. She goes over and begins filing the papers.)

*TITLE CARD: Dot Waverly, Vanisher: Not always all 'there', but always on top of things!*

(Dot suddenly jumps as a darkly mischievous smile appears before her, rolling her eyes as theatrical laughter fills the room. With a dramatic swoosh of her parasol, a girl dressed in a gothic kimono with three swishing fox tails appears, giving us a playful grin.)

*TITLE CARD: Eri Tanaka, Kitsune: Mischievous Yokai with a love for all things gothic and dramatic!*

(We are transported with a swish of Eri’s tails to the school’s art room, where a student with rainbow-streaked hair and large glasses is firing bolts of color from the iridescent horn on her forehead at a canvas, smiling brightly all the time.)

*TITLE CARD: Petra Markov, Unicorn: One-of-a-kind artist and true free spirit!*

(We are now in the cafeteria, where a group of students are smiling blissfully as a hauntingly beautiful singing voice fills the room. The camera then zooms in on a lovely girl with feathery wings and fish scales along her arms, singing the beauteous melody.)

*TITLE CARD: Evie Balthazar, Siren: Sweet-natured lady who'll enchant you with song!*

(Hearing the sound of hoofbeats, Evie flaps over the window, smiling as she waves and blows a kiss, which is caught by a brawny boy with the lower half of a horse, as he’s sprinting across the school’s courtyard.)

*TITLE CARD: Brecken Sutcliffe, Centaur: Big-hearted country fella who's more horse than cowboy!*

(Some older students are harassing a monster from the younger grades, when suddenly, one of them hears a loud *crunch* right behind their head, turning around to see a short but burly student with a body made entirely of stone glaring at them.)

*TITLE CARD: Roxie Richter, Stone Golem: The most hard-headed person you'll ever meet!*

(The scene transitions to the school’s chemistry lab, where a student with long pointed ears and leathery bat wings combines different chemicals into a vial, giggling enthusiastically as she awaits the reaction to occur.)

*TITLE CARD: Anais Ackerman, Werebat: Nocturnal Brainiac who's batty about chemistry!*

(In another area of the lab, a girl with strawberry blonde curls and mint green skin is stirring a bubbling cauldron as she hums a Hex Girls tune to herself, prepping a spell to help the theater club.)

*TITLE CARD: Candace Fletcher, Witch: A real Hex Girl who'll cast a spell on you...if you give her sufficient reason.*

(The scene transitions to the gym, where a tall and lean boy with orange scaley skin, spiky multicolored hair and blunt horns jumps up to score a slam dunk…only to stumble as he hits the ground again.)

*TITLE CARD: Soo-Yeon Park, Dokkaebi: Anxious bean who's a beast on the casketball court!*

(In another area of the gym, a girl with messy red hair and the lower half of a serpent sits on the bleachers, scrolling through her phone and only looking up to make a snarky (but good-natured) comment about the slip-up.)

*TITLE CARD: Staci Kwan, Naga: A snarky snake who refuses to be charmed.*

(The scene changes to the school’s shop class, where a girl with six pink tentacles and a bright smile is helping move several large stacks of wood, humming a cheerful tune to herself.)

*TITLE CARD: Margo Jorgensen, Kraken: Sweetest caecilian in the seas who will always lend a helping tentacle!*

(The scene moves back to the school’s massive pool, where a girl with messy green hair, scaley green skin and finlike feet is holding a stop watch, barking commands to the swim class she is leading.)

*TITLE CARD: Parker Beauregard, Nixie: Swims to the beat of a military drum!*

(The camera exits the pool just as a girl with pointed ears, wild red curls and rapidly fluttering wings whizzes by on a skateboard with a sharp-toothed grin and her prosthetic leg on display.)

*TITLE CARD: Aggie Findlay, Faerie: Spunky sprite who will punt ableist asses!*

(The camera suddenly goes through the lens of a video camera, ending in the school’s news studio, where a student with eagle-like wings, and the claws and tail of a lion smiles spacily as they operate the camera from their bedazzled wheelchair.)

*TITLE CARD: Mona Truffaut, Gryphon: May be confined to the ground, but their head is in the clouds!*

(The shot changes to a pan down of a huge blackboard, where a girl with shiny wire hair and polished chrome skin, the orifice lines glowing with energy effortlessly solves a complex math problem, before loading the results into her data receptor.)

*TITLE CARD: Eloise Matuidi, Hi-Tech Bot: Mathematical genius with all the latest updates!*

(The students in a nearby hallway nervously avert their eyes, hoping not to catch the attention of a boy with immaculate blonde hair woven with golden snakes. He pauses a moment to send a sharp look to the camera, pulling his pink-lens sunglasses down with a challenging look.)

*TITLE CARD: Austin Armbruster, Gorgon: An asp fashionista with a cutting remark at the ready!*

(The hallway suddenly shakes with a deafening shriek, and the present students all shoot annoyed looks at a smirking boy with messy red hair and solid white eyes, who only gives them a smug laugh in return.)

*TITLE CARD: Austin Quinlan, Banshee: A temperamental tormented spirit who'll scream the house down!*

(We hear a loud shout of anger and the camera pans over to a boy with hairy hands and large horns, who has just crushed a gaming console in his hands after losing a game…only to pull out another one and start a new game.)

*TITLE CARD: Austin Boulet, Troll: Dedicated gamer with a big hidden temper!*

(The school’s pompous principal, M. Damocles, an owl man creature, is walking down the hall and suddenly lets out a loud shout as he steps on a trip wire and slips head over ass in the hallway. The camera pans over to a laughing student with small horns poking out from her curly brown hair, adjusting his red cap with a clawed green hand before taking off down the hall.)

*TITLE CARD: DJ Detweiler, Goblin: Impish prankster who stands up for the little guys!*

(As Damocles gets up with a grumble, the scene transitions to an in-school dance studio, where a muscular boy with a cowl of hair that resembles a rooster’s crest, reptilian eyes and scaley skin performs a flawless pirouette, before readjusting his dark black shades.)

*TITLE CARD: Austin Spinelli, Basilisk: Resident tough guy with a petrifying power, so don't mess with his friends!*

(The camera zooms to the music classroom nextdoor, where a tall student with thick blonde curls, mottled green skin and large fangs belts out a window-shattering high note, smiling shyly as she receives thunderous applause from other students in the room.)

*TITLE CARD: Mindy Blumberg, Ogre: Gentle-natured ogress with a serious passion for song!*

(We transition to a large ramp set up by the school’s pool, where a student with a tall, finlike Mohawk and a shimmering fish tail is about to perform a daring jump in their wheelchair, other students watching in awe as she begins his descent.)

*TITLE CARD: Victoria LeSalle, Mermaid: 'Stuck' with a tail, but not afraid to get dangerous!*

(The camera cuts over to the school’s grand main stairwell, where a girl with wild red curls, and the lower body of a goat slides down the handrail with an excited squeal, landing with a graceful bleat and a bright laugh.)

*TITLE CARD: Lotta Jameson, Satyr: Half-goat, half-girl, all adventurous spirit!*

(From above, Lotta hears a goat-like shriek and looks up with a smile, waving to a girl doing pull-ups from the rafters. The girl has cropped blonde hair that takes a backseat to her large horns, as well as leathery black wings and cloven hooves.)

*TITLE CARD: Gia Griswold, Jersey Devil: Nothing devilish about this military brat but the horns!*

(From underneath a table, a very small student with short red hair and a tall hat steps out, flipping through various notes of incriminating info on the principal on zir phone.)

*TITLE CARD: Rochelle Weams, Gnome: This little gnome knows what's up with everyone!*

(We hear a loud whoop, the camera pans up to the rafters, where a girl with a messy blonde ponytail, reddish-brown fur on her forearms, and large sabertooth tusks swings back and forth, before leaping down with an impressive tuck and roll.)

*TITLE CARD: Kendra Anne Gunderson, Yowie: Audacious Aussie with serious acrobatic skills!*

(The scene changes to a secluded closet of the school, which is filled with shelves loaded to the brim with vials of multicolored sand. A student with short mint green hair and blackened limbs meticulously labels and organizes each container.)

*TITLE CARD: Mason Ewing, Bogey: Super organized but a bit too nervous to get his scare on!*

(The scene transitions to a bog located on the school grounds, the waters beginning to bubble. A tall boy with shaggy red hair, moss-coated skin and a prosthetic leg rises, inspecting a strange object with a technological magnifying glass.)

*TITLE CARD: Gerard Grundler, Swamp Thing: The most brilliant marsh man you'll ever meet!*

(We cut away from the school for a moment, to a nearby human town, where two teens, a fidgeting Hispanic boy and a short and stocky blonde girl are hanging a poster for a monster activism event. A book suddenly hits the boy in the shoulder, prompting the girl to whip around with a fist raised in threat, causing the harassing assholes to scatter.)

*TITLE CARD: Jesse Ortega & Missy Rutherford, Human Allies: Fighting alongside Adrien for monster rights!*

(We flash back to the school, to a hallway where several sets of students are arguing, a few about to fight physically. A girl with ragged black wings and sharp talons laughs as she revels in the chaos she’s caused, babbling nonstop to her compatriots, hidden in the shadows.)

*TITLE CARD: Lila Rossi, Harpy: A devious birdy who lives to cause misery and chaos!*

(Suddenly, Lila is silenced, a hex preventing her from making another sound. Ignoring the harpy's indignant gesturing, a blonde boy wearing a menacing Jack O' Lantern mask appears in the monsters' midst, terrifying them and sending them running, making him smile with malevolent glee.)

*TITLE CARD: Felix Graham de Vanily/Jack O' Ripper: Leader of the Anti-Monster Brigade with a draconic fixation!*

(A sort of toxic gas fills the hallways, making many of the monster students fall to their knees, holding their throats. The camera pans over to a tall and muscular boy, littered with scars and wearing accessories made from monsters he's killed. His smile is cruel and sadistic.)

*TITLE CARD: Lucien Van Helsing, Monster Hunter: The latest in a family line of murderous evil, Felix's right-hand man.*

(The villains yelp in pain as they clutch at their necks, which suddenly have sharp pain shoot through them. They turn and see Marinette, a needle pressed in the side of her neck as her button eyes are glowing, focusing her hoodoo powers on them. Through the pain, Felix manages to teleport them out of there. Marinette's partners hug her proudly, and all the monster students gather in the main hall before turning to the screen for a group shot.)

(A flash of lightning cracks across the screen, revealing the title in gothic, cursive script: "DuPont School for Monstrous Youths".)

Leave your thoughts in the comments and reblogs! Keep an eye out for the final installment!

[sunnyydeath]

✨well well, isn't she just a doll (wink wink)✨

What if jinkx had little dolls? Well now you know, in all her glory complete witch witchy accessories, character stuff, video games and mandatory familiar :3

✨For accessories added her crystal that has been blessed by Rupaul and other legendary queens, the magnifying glass for little eddie, mic for Judy, her wand, their glasses, a little potion bottle and their witchy mug, plus their uke and ps5 :)

✨Also the colour scheme and general vibes of her box were inspired my jinkx's living room (black and white stripes like her curtains, the teal colour to match the walls and the vines to match all the plants she has) :)

[crystallinestars]

For Me, There's Only You

This is entirely self-indulgent because all I want to do is hold Kaveh in my arms and keep him safe and sound.

WARNINGS: Hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol. Contains SPOILERS for Kaveh's backstory and hangout!!!

-----------------------------------------------------

It was late evening when you arrived home to your teapot. Exhausted from the long day, you wanted nothing more than to collapse onto your bed and get some sleep, but when you entered the realm’s large house, you spotted a familiar figure sitting at a table in the living room.

It wasn’t unusual for you to see Kaveh in your teapot since you gave him a free pass to enter and exit it as he pleased. It was a convenient way for you two to see each other when you were traveling outside of Sumeru and couldn’t visit him. This seemed to work out well for you and the architect for the past few months.

What was unusual was Kaveh’s slumped posture on the table’s surface, reminding you of how you found him in Lambad’s tavern all those months ago after he had an argument with a client. Several empty bottles of wine littered the table; Kaveh had his face buried in the crook of one arm that rested on the table, his other hand held a glass of red liquid.

“Kaveh…?” you call out as you walk over to the blond architect, worry eating way at you. “Are you okay?”

Kaveh lifts his head and your heart drops. His eyes were red and puffy from crying, trails of dried tears staining his flushed cheeks. Kaveh looked like a mess with his usually neat braid askew and frayed, and signature teal feather missing from his hair. He was also without his usual red cape, revealing the crumpled state of his white shirt.

“y/n…” his voice is quite and thick with tears, and something in you aches at the sound. Kaveh turns his face away and sniffles, as if ashamed of being seen in such a state. “I’m fine. Sorry ‘bout this…” his speech is slightly slurred, a clear indicator he was drunk.

You glance at the empty wine bottles next to him and frown. It’s obvious he’s had an awful lot to drink in a short time, and you conclude he’s trying to drink his sorrows away. Unfortunately, you don’t know what upset him, and he doesn’t seem willing to talk about it.

“You’re clearly not fine. I won’t push you to tell me what happened, but please stop for tonight,” you take a seat next to him and snatch away the glass in his hand before he can bring it up to his lips for another sip. Kaveh’s brows furrow in agitation, but his expression morphs into sadness when you place your hand in his instead.

“I’ll be here for you, Kaveh. I may not know what’s wrong, but please know I’ll stay by your side through it all,” you say softly, hoping to comfort him. Your heart stops for a brief moment when instead of relaxing, Kaveh’s shoulders start to shake as fresh tears spill down his cheeks.

“You- you’re too nice. Too good for me….” he manages to get out through choked sobs. “I-I don’t deserve you.”

“What? Kaveh, don’t say that…” you fumble a bit, not knowing what to say to make things better, to make Kaveh be okay again. You’ve never seen him display such low self-esteem before, and it caught you off guard.

Kaveh continues his drunken rambling, “You’re leaving for Fontaine, too. Soon I won’t see you as often. I’ll be alone again….” he whispers and lowers his head. His hair created a blond curtain around his face, obscuring it from your gaze.

You remember from past conversations with Kaveh that his mother had left for Fontaine to begin her life anew after his father’s passing. At the time you didn’t know how deeply that move affected Kaveh since he seemed happy for his mother. While that may be true, it wasn’t until now that you realized the loneliness he must have felt at having no family to be with anymore.

“I deserve that, though. I deserve to suffer. I-“ Kaveh chokes on his words. What he was about to say clearly dredged up painful emotions. “It’s my fault my dad died…” his voice wavers, tapering off into a whimper as he buries his face in his hands and weeps. “I deserve this.”

The sight of him so broken and despondent made our heart feel heavy because it was a stark contrast to his usually bright smile and cheerful disposition. You usually knew what to do to comfort Kaveh was he was feeling down because of a tough client or if he was going through art block. However, this time you didn’t know what to do to take away the guilt that plagued Kaveh throughout most of his life, and your own helplessness frustrated you. Your own eyes teared up as you watched him cry, shoulders shaking as he blamed himself for the crumbling of his family.

You take a deep breath before placing a hand on Kaveh’s shoulder. “Look at me, Kaveh,” you say gently but firmly. Kaveh refuses to look up. “Please, Kaveh,” your voice carries a note of pleading, and Kaveh finally removes his hands from his face to hesitantly glance up at you. You look into his carmine eyes, seeing your reflection in their glassy surface.

“Nobody deserves to suffer, so please don’t say that you do. Seeing you in pain hurts me too,” you say.

Kaveh’s lower lip trembles as he shakes his head, his expression despairing. “It’s all my fault. If only I hadn’t asked, then he would-“ his words get cut short by another heart wrenching sob. Your words don’t console him like you hoped. Truth be told, you don’t think anything you say will ever help him get over his guilt permanently, but even so you want to try your best to help him. Kaveh shouldn’t punish himself like that over an event his child self had no control over.

“I love you, Kaveh. I will always love you no matter what, and I promise I will stay by your side,” you continue, gently calling his attention back to yourself.

Kaveh shakes his head again. “You could do so much better. I’m just- just a broken man. I’m in debt and can’t buy you nice things. I don’t have a home to offer you. I- I can’t love you in the way you deserve! You could do better, like-” he chokes on a sob. “Like Alhaitham! He has it all—he could care for you better than I ever could,” Kaveh rambles as the alcohol makes him spill his insecurities to you. The same insecurities that pushed him to whisk away a few bottles of Alhaitham’s wine stock and hide himself away in your teapot where he could wallow in his misery, believing he deserved the punishment of loneliness for being such a screw up.

You frown and gently cup Kaveh’s wet cheeks, cradling his face in your palms to make him look at you.

“I can’t do any better because to me, there is no one better than you,” you say firmly. “I’ve traveled all across Teyvat and met many people, but nobody, nobody made me feel the way you do. Only you brighten my day with just your smile. Only you make me see the beauty and wonder in the world around us, no matter how mundane it appears. Only you make my heart sing and soar when I spend time with you, and only you make me think that there is hope for a brighter future even when things seem bleak.”

Kaveh falls quiet, listening attentively to your words despite the drunken haze still clouding his mind, but your touch and steady voice keep his attention on you.

“You may find it hard to believe, but at the very least please know that I love you Kaveh, and I don’t like seeing you hurting. I will love you no matter what you did in the past, and I will help you get through the future. Together.”

Tears well up in Kaveh’s eyes once more, and you can tell that he wants to say something, no doubt that he doesn’t deserve you, so you continue before he could get a word in. “And you deserve to have my love and to have me by your side. As I said, there is no one better for me than you. I could have chosen Alhaitham, but I didn’t because I fell for you instead.”

At this, the corners of Kaveh’s mouth lift into a tiny, wobbly smile. Seeing it, you smile softly in return before continuing. “Besides, perfect people don’t exist. You love me despite my own flaws, so there’s no reason for me to be unable to do the same for you.”

Kaveh closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath, finally accepting your attempts to comfort him. Sensing him gradually surrendering, you stand up and slowly help him rise from his chair. Slinging one of his arms over your shoulders to support his weight, you lead him to a nearby sofa. Gently helping him sit down on the plush cushions, you fetch a glass of water and make Kaveh drink it to restore some clarity to his intoxicated mind.

Kaveh keeps his eyes downcast, still seeming vulnerable and melancholy despite your earlier encouragement. You hope your words helped him somewhat, but you know you can’t erase his insecurities and guilt overnight. All you can do is be there for him and continuously reassure him that he’s loved.

You wrap your arms around Kaveh in a warm hug before slowly pulling him down to rest on top of you on the sofa. Kaveh tenses for a moment before slowly relaxing and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. You can smell the alcohol on his breath but ignore it. Kaveh’s comfort was your top priority at the moment, and to ensure this further, you pulled down a blanket from the sofa’s backrest to cover the two of you with.

Keeping your arms around him, you let one of your hands slowly stroke his blond hair, willing Kaveh to relax even further at your touch. Smiling warmly, you kiss his temple lovingly, feeling Kaveh tighten his hold around you in response.

“You’re worried I’ll leave you once I go to Fontaine, aren’t you?” you ask softly.

Kaveh remains silent before letting out a sleepy hum of agreement, his breathing stabilizing.

“I promise we’ll still see each other using the teapot until I can come see you in Sumeru. I’ll come back for any festivals and find some spare time to come visit. I will miss you, but that longing will be all the more reason for me to come see you,” you say and feel Kaveh shift to rest his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat.

“You promise?” he croaks, voice hoarse from crying.

“Promise,” you say without hesitation. “And even when I’m not around, you won’t be alone. You have friends who care for you here in Sumeru. Did you know that Tighnari has a soft spot for you?” you chuckle. “Cyno would love to play TCG with you, and Madam Faruzan told me she wants to take you out for tea some time. And even though you often bicker, Alhaitham cares for you, as well.”

Kaveh scoffs at the mention of Alhaitham.

“You know he does!” you exclaim.

“Really? Seems like his only interest in me is to poke fun at me,” he huffs, but he can’t deny you are right. He just doesn’t want to admit that fact yet.

You giggle, and your tinkling laugh makes Kaveh feel a bit better. He nuzzles against you, finding solace in your heartbeat, the slow movement of your hand against his head, and your secure embrace. You might be unaware of it, but you were his greatest comfort. You calmed him and chased away the negative thoughts plaguing his mind better than any alcohol ever did. Kaveh was thankful to have you in his life.

“Thank you. I love you,” he says, and you quiet down to catch his whispered words. You smile as you stare up at the ceiling, still petting his silky hair.

“I love you too,” you whisper back.

The two of you hold each other tightly in a warm embrace, basking in the ensuing silence. It was a comfortable silence that made Kaveh drowsy. The hours of crying and heavy drinking tired him out, causing his eyelids to grow heavy as he calmed down. He noted that compared to how he felt at the start of the evening, his heart felt much lighter now. It felt right to be in your arms. It was a sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time, not since he caused his family to fall apart.

It was the sensation of feeling like he was home.

You filled that hole in his heart he had been harboring for years, and he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. Kaveh won’t tell you this just yet, but one day he hopes to build a family with you when you are both ready. Until then, he thinks as sleep slowly claims his tired mind, I vow to become a person that’s more deserving of the brilliant star that is y/n.

[captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship]

Thank you to @azrielshadowssing for organizing this event!! This is my first ever writing circle, and I am so happy I could write for gwynriel first!! It is my first time writing gwynriel, and my first time writing a smutty/steamy scene from scratch, so I hope you all enjoy! See the other amazing works in the writing circle here

Summary: Working as a Spy for the Night Corp has gotten Gwyneth Berdara everything she ever wanted out of life: a group of friends who would die for each other, a chance to make a difference, and a love she only thought existed in fairytales.

Gwyn is undercover in Mayor Beron Vanserra's office to expose the hidden truths about how he came into power. Her true reasons for working at the Mayor's office aren't the only thing she's keeping secret. Her relationship with her supervisor, Azriel, is kept tightly under wraps. If anyone found out, it would change their lives forever. When a masquerade fundraiser poses the perfect setting for her mission to proceed, more than just Beron's secrets are brought to light.

Warnings: NSFW and BDSM themes

~5k words

Find on AO3

Part 2 | Part 3

Gwyn awoke to the fresh rays of morning light caressing her face as they peeked through the open curtain of the bedroom window. Groaning from the early wake up call, she made a move to get out of bed to close them. Before she could even shift towards the light, an arm snaked around her waist and pinned her back to the body laying beside her. 

“You know better than to sneak away, Angel,” said a gravelly voice into her ear. Just the sound of his sleep-addled voice was enough to send her whole body into overdrive. She opened her neck up to him, silently pleading for his lips on her skin. 

He chuckled at that and whispered, “So greedy for me, aren’t you?” 

A shiver of anticipation snaked up her spine at the way his breath caressed her ear. With a soft chuckle, he started kissing his way down her neck, each kiss left a trail of heat and desire in its wake. When he finally reached the junction between her neck and shoulder, he bit down just hard enough to get her blood to boil under her skin. Before she had time to react, he flipped her over so she was caged between his arms, his head so close to hers that his black hair was brushing against the speckled ivory Gwyn’s forehead. Looking up, her teal eyes met his hazel ones and the predatory look he gave her was all Gwyn needed to know that she was not going back to sleep. 

Her hand met the back of his neck as she pulled him down in a fervent kiss. Every place their skin met sent shivers down her spine. When they came together it was like a hurricane, powerful and unrelenting. Everything about Azriel consumed her, forged her, and ignited the parts of her that she had never known existed before he came into her life. 

Gasping for air, his mouth never left her skin as he made his way slowly down her neck. “Good morning, my love,” she said breathlessly.

His hand found her breast and began to knead it as he made his way back up to her mouth, nipping her earlobe as he whispered, “Good morning.” 

She arched into his touch, his breath, his voice. Everything about him set her body into a ravenous, unending hunger. As he pulled his head back to take a look at her, she saw the lust and love and playfulness that only came out around her. 

Gwyn had lifted her head to kiss him again when a sound rang out from across the room. Her head unceremoniously flung back down to the pillow as she let out a groan of frustration. Her damn cell phone was going off. 

By the second ring, she was trying, and failing, to push Azriel off of her to see what her pain-in-the-ass boss wanted. Gwyn knew it had to be him because no one else would try to call her at 6am except for him.

“I need to grab that,” Gwyn sighed in exasperation. Azriel took her tone as a challenge and pinned her arms to her sides while he kissed down her body slowly. 

“Let it go to voicemail,” he said, his voice full of predatory intent at her half-hearted protest. 

She sighed again, letting herself succumb to his efforts of convincing her to forgo the call. The sound of phone ringing became little more than white noise as it was overcome by the pounding need flooding her body. The moment it finally stopped ringing, she could feel Az’s smirk from where he was situating himself between her thighs. His face was just inches away from her core. Gwyn tried to wiggle and get him closer to where she really wanted him, but Azriel’s hands held firm while he dipped his face, aiming for the parts of her that were already aching to be touched by him. 

Instead, Azriel bit down on the skin above her hip bone hard enough that she let out a yelp. Her eyes met his in protest. With unfiltered lust and dominance, he said, “Only good girls get what they want, Gwyneth. Are you going to be a good girl for me?” She groaned at that, her need to please and be pleased filled her every thought. 

“Yes, sir,” she breathlessly pleaded. Azriel’s beautiful face shifted into a knowing look that sent more heat rushing between her legs. 

Just as he began lifting her nightgown past her hips, another sound blasted through the space between them. Looks like both of them forgot to turn their phones to silent. He buried his head into her stomach and groaned, knowing that if they were both being contacted it had to be important. 

“Stay right here,” he all but growled to her as he stood up and grabbed his phone from its charging spot on the dresser.

“What do you want?” Azriel said as he picked up, letting all of his annoyance lace his every word. He and Rhysand chatted idly back and forth for a few minutes, and all of the lust that had overcome her moments ago vanished with every word. Gwyn sat up and crawled to the edge of the bed to see if she could overhear the conversation.

“I don’t know where she is,” he replied to Rhys but gave Gwyn a mocking smile that made her realize that they were talking about her. “I’ll find her and let her know. See you later, brother.” 

He set his phone down and prowled over to where Gwyn sat on her knees at the edge of the bed. Azriel wrapped a light hand around her throat, just enough that he could angle her head so she was forced to look up to him. “I told you not to move, Angel.” 

She stepped off of the bed to stand before him before swatting at his wrist, and he ultimately let go. Rising onto her toes, Gwyn kissed his nose, smirking at his annoyance. “And I told you I needed to answer my phone. Apparently neither of us like being told what to do.” 

Before he could react, she danced out of his arms and towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for work,” she called out behind her. Feeling his gaze blaze a hole through her back, she threw over her shoulder, “Alone. We will never make it out of here on time if you join me.” 

His answering grumble of frustration was all it took to make her laugh as she entered the bathroom and started the shower. 

Thirty minutes later, she was clean, her hair dried and styled. Gwyn made her way over to the makeup vanity Azriel had gotten for her. It was set up in front of the floor to ceiling windows of the dressing room, giving her an unobstructed view of Velaris bathed in the glow of the sunrise. 

Her teal dressing gown clung to her still damp skin as she sat to begin her makeup. Azriel strode in a minute later, still wet from his shower, and began to get dressed for the day. He picked out his usual black button down and black dress pants. His wardrobe rarely changed, usually only replacing his button down with a black sweater in the colder months. Gwyn couldn’t help but stare unabashedly at Azriel when he dropped his towel, leaving him bare behind her. If they didn’t have places to be, she would sink down in front of him and show him just how much she wanted to see his tie wrapped around her neck instead of his. 

Azriel cleared his throat and her eyes darted up to meet his through the mirror. His smirk was full of male pride, giving her a look that seemed to say that he knew exactly what she was thinking. Gwyn bit her lip with the thought of what they would be doing if they could have it their way today. 

“My eyes are up here, Angel.” He teased. She couldn’t help the light blush that crept up her neck to her cheeks under his knowing gaze.

“I know,” she retorted. She sent him a look that blazed with the promise of all that she was ready to do to him when they finally had the time together tonight. 

Gwyn went back to getting ready, and as she was putting on her finishing touches she sighed with annoyance. Azriel furrowed his brows, and he strode over to stand behind her. His scent - a mix of cedar, mist, and sandalwood- enveloped her. She couldn’t help but lean back into him, close her eyes, and take all of him in. 

“What's wrong?” He asked as he leaned down to kiss the top of her head. 

Another annoyed sigh left her lips. “You know those earrings Catrin got me for our birthday? I left them at my apartment and I wanted to wear them today.” 

He chuckled. “I told you that you should just move in with me already. You already spend nearly every day here anyways. You even brought Shadow here.” As if she were agreeing with the man behind her, Shadow meowed from her cat tree in the corner of the room. 

“I spend every day here because your apartment is 10 minutes away from the Mayor’s office and I have been assigned there for the last month by our oh-so-secretive client. Let me guess, Rhys was calling to confirm our 2pm appointment with him?” 

Azriel hummed in agreement as his hands began lazily dragging up and down Gwyn’s arms, her skin pebbling under his touch. 

She turned around to face him, and he sat down on the bench beside her. Her head rested on his shoulder as she spoke the next words, “You know why I can’t move in. If our boss found out… they might not let us work together anymore. I want to tell the world about us- you know that, Az. I feel… selfish. For wanting it all. To live with you, to be able to walk into work and kiss you. To be able to hold your hand when we go out with our friends.” Gwyn paused there, her lip quivering with emotion. Sensing the weight that this had on her heart, Azriel did the only thing he could do and held her hand in between his on his lap. “I just don’t want to put all we’ve worked so hard for at risk.” 

She finally looked towards him, his gaze tilted downwards towards their clasped hands. “I know, Gwyn. You’re right.” He shook his head and let out a bittersweet laugh. “You’re always right. Even when you’re wrong, you’re right. I’m selfish too. I want to build our life together. I want it all.”

They sat in silence for a moment, both of them contemplating the difficult path ahead. Finally, Gwyn let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. She went to rest her head onto his shoulder again and whispered, “Do you think…” she swallowed, her fear rising into her throat. “I am willing to risk it. All of it. We deserve to have it all.”

She felt his lips caress the top of her head softly, like a gentle breeze on an early autumn morning. “I am too. I want it all with you, Gwyn. You make me feel… alive. In a way that I have never felt before and I never want to feel again if it isn’t with you.” Her head tilted up to meet his gaze, silver lined his hazel eyes as she joined her lips with his in a soft and promising kiss. 

When they finally parted, their foreheads rested on each other in content bliss. Gwyn hated to pop that perfect bubble, but she finally said, “We will tell them all soon. After this mission. If this is the last one we might have with each other, let's go out with a bang.”

Azriel’s gaze bore into hers, spearing her with all of his love and admiration, “It’s a deal, Angel. I’m all yours. From now until the heavens claim us.” 

And they sealed their deal with a kiss.  

—---

Gwyn entered her office at 7:55am. Setting her own coffee on her receptionist desk, she brushed down her skirt and checked her appearance one last time in the hall mirror before knocking on the looming double doors behind her. 

“Enter,” a rough male voice boomed.

Gwyn took a deep breath, plastered on her most convincing fake smile, and opened the door to Beron Vanserra’s office. 

“Good morning, sir. I have your coffee for you. It is your usual, of course.” She said cheerily as she strode over to his desk. She made sure that her blouse was low enough cut that he could barely see the lace of her bra peeking out as she bent over to set down his coffee. His eyes glazed over for a moment as she noted him taking in her cleavage.

Target acquired.

Beron Vanserra had been the mayor of Velaris for the last 2 years. As the years went by, any progress that the city had gained by their last mayor, Tarquin Summers, vanished after Tarquin’s untimely death. It was suspected within her circle that Beron was behind Tarquin’s death, but nothing was ever proven. That is, until now. She had copied the last of his encrypted files yesterday, and given the thumb drive to Azriel so he could begin decoding them. The faster she could get the proof to their client, the sooner she would be able to stop working for this misogynistic asshole and go back to her real job.

“Thank you, Gwyneth,” he crooned. Gwyn was sure he thought it was sexy, especially coming from a man in power. But to her, it was just downright creepy. 

“You’re welcome, sir,” she said with a bow of her head. He liked his women submissive, meek and soft-spoken. If the next few days go according to plan, he wouldn’t be a pain in her ass anymore. “You have a meeting with Eris at 10am, then a press conference to discuss the opening of the new community center at 1pm. I do have that appointment I mentioned to you before at 2pm today, so Cressida will be taking my place as your assistant for the press conference and the rest of the day. Then we have the masquerade ball fundraiser tomorrow night.” 

He nodded along, not really listening to her. His eyes darted down to her breasts every few seconds, as if he thought Gwyn wouldn’t notice. Such a fucking pig. 

“Of course, Gwyneth. I want you to get all pampered before the fundraiser. I will have a dress sent to your apartment so you will look… appropriate for the function. Your ticket is on your desk. Have Cressida come in tomorrow so you can spend the time getting ready. I want you looking your best.” He said in a punishing and demanding tone. She’s sure this act must have worked for him before, but he was old enough to be Gwyn’s father. There was no way in hell she was getting within spitting distance of his dick if she had any say in it.

“Thank you sir, I appreciate it.” She bowed her head again in thanks. “I cannot wait. It’s going to be a night to remember.” If all goes well with their plan, it would be the last free one he would have for a while. 

“Get to work and I will see you tomorrow, Gwyneth.” He purred at her. This man was a nightmare. The dress he would send to her now empty apartment would probably be extremely revealing, leaving nothing for the imagination. He preferred women to be seen, not heard. Beron even had a god's damned wife who would be on his arm all night. Just the idea of him ogling her in front of Amara made Gwyn sick to her stomach. It had happened enough times during her tenure here than she pitied the poor woman. And she had only been here a month. 

“See you tomorrow, sir. Let me know if I can be of further assistance.” She bowed her head once more before leaving. Gwyn let her hips sway a little more in her short pencil skirt, just for an added measure. His gaze coated her skin like oil, and it took everything in her not to shudder. 

The more he is focused on your ass, the less he notices that you are plotting his downfall. 

She had to keep reminding herself of that.

Approaching her desk, she found an envelope on her keyboard with her name scrawled upon it. She opened it up to find one ticket to the fundraiser and a handwritten note that said, ‘I cannot wait to see you in your dress tomorrow. I have such fun plans for us.’

She let out a shudder of disgust and placed the ticket in her purse so she wouldn't forget, right next to the one she had stolen last week just in case her flirting didn’t work. 

The only interaction she had with anyone that morning was when Eris Vanserra arrived for his appointment with his father. Eris was the vice-mayor, and the eldest of Beron’s seven sons. All but his youngest, Lucien, were currently in politics or studying it. 

Eris strode over to her desk with the swaggering confidence she suspected any son of Beron’s would possess. He leaned on the wall beside the door to her back, forcing her to yield her position to accommodate him. “Hello, gorgeous. Long time no see.” He said with a knowing smirk. 

Eris wasn’t nearly as bad as his father. He was only 7 years her senior- and if she squinted… and took a few shots of tequila, she might even call him handsome. Gwyn had a type, though: tall, gorgeous, broody nerds named Azriel. Eris didn’t fit the bill for 4 out of 5 of those criteria. 

“Hi, Eris. It hasn’t been long enough,” she sneered out. Gwyn only had to be nice to Beron, afterall. She already had one foot out the door here, and she didn’t want to keep up the charade any longer than necessary.

“You wound me, Berdara.” He mocked as he tipped his head back and put a palm to his heart in fake anguish. “I was hoping we would be seeing more of each other, not less.”

“In your dreams, Vanserra.” She scoffed. How she wished to yell to the world that she had the sexiest, smartest, and deadliest boyfriend in all of Prythian. 

His eyes raked over her outfit and he shot her a smirk, “Did my dad make you wear that or do you just enjoy dressing like a porn star?” 

She bristled under his knowing gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Eris. I am dressed perfectly for work.” His smirk only grew, as if he knew something that she didn’t.

Before he could respond, the doors behind him opened, revealing Beron in one of his tempers. Gwyn couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Eris in that regard. No one deserved to be on the short end of Beron’s temper. She had witnessed enough people walking out of his office dejected and broken; a fate she wouldn’t wish upon her worst enemy.

Eris would be his last victim if her mission went according to plan.

—--

By noon, she was finally out of that cesspit of a capital building. With two hours to spare, she decided to wander the Rainbow of Velaris before eventually going to the River House, Rhysand’s base of operations which housed all of the Night Corp. Gwyn was smart, so smart that she graduated top of her class at Velaris University, receiving her Masters in both Comparative Literature and Digital Forensic Engineering. She had started the Valkyrie training program in her Freshman year of college where she met her two best friends, Nesta and Emerie. It was a female empowerment self defense club that combined krav maga, meditation, and an ancient form of fighting called Pankration-courtesy of Gwyn’s fascination with Ancient History. Although it had once been Catrin’s dream to advocate for female empowerment, her death pushed Gwyn to start the Valkyrie Training Program in her honor. Once Gwyn had exhausted all of her knowledge on the subjects, she found a Kinesiology graduate student to help train them in exchange for being subjects for his graduate research. He in turn recruited his brother, a martial arts specialist, to help as well.

And that was how she first met Azriel. 

They hated each other at first, always butting heads and arguing on how to combine ancient techniques with Krav Maga. Azriel was also getting a Masters in Computer Engineering at the time, and ultimately was the reason she fell in love with Digital Forensic Engineering. It wasn’t until her Sophomore year of college that she found out what Azriel and Cassian were really in college for. The Valkyrie’s had shifted their training, schoolwork, and lives to join their friends in on their venture. Cassian and Azriel’s other brother, Rhysand, was slated to take it up running it after he graduated. His father, a cruel and wicked man, had left the business to Rhys and his cousin Mor in his will. 

Of course, when people mention they’re taking over a family business, they usually mean something like a jewelry shop or a chain of restaurants. Not a multi-million dollar marketing agency that was actually a cover for a multi-billion dollar espionage and assassination institution. 

And when she entered college, with her twin Catrin by her side, she did not expect to come out of it a single child and signed on as an espionage consultant to work right under Azriel. Nesta and Cassian danced around each other for a while, but while Nesta was the CFO for the marketing side of the business and Cassian was the head of security for both companies, Nesta ran out of protests and finally decided he was hers. Nesta then introduced everyone to her sister Feyre, who had been going to an art college nestled in the Rainbow. Rhysand was enamored with her ever since. After she ended her toxic relationship with her ex-fiance, she and Rhysand were inseparable. She now worked on an as-needed basis as a graphic designer, art consultant and appraiser. But mainly, she spent her days teaching painting lessons in her art studio in the Rainbow and taking care of their one-year-old son, Nyx. 

Once Emerie and Mor took one look at each other they were inseparable. Mor was Rhys’s right hand woman, and the media manager of the Night Corp. Emerie was the only one who needed convincing to join in the venture. She had always wanted to own a small shop selling incense, organic clothing, and eco-friendly products. However, Emerie’s degree in international policy made her an unstoppable negotiator. When she and Mor were sent in to close a difficult deal, they always came out on top. No matter if that meant they signed a contract or had to dump a body bag in the Sidra. She did stay loyal to her roots and opened a small Etsy shop to sell her organic goods. 

Everyone managed to get everything they wanted, but it seemed like Az and Gwyn’s futures were as unattainable as ever. Gwyn worked in intelligence and was the top espionage operative in the business, Azriel was her direct supervisor in his role as head of Cyber Security and Intelligence. Falling in love had complicated things and they still couldn’t find a way to make it all work, even after being romantically involved for over a year. 

At least being a spy for the Night Corp beats being the secretary for Beron Vanserra any day of the week.

Besides getting to work with her best friends and having “badass” as her unofficial title, she selfishly loved having a cool work nickname. It made her feel like a spy in a cheesy movie. Cassian was the General, Rhys was the High Lord, Azriel was the Spymaster, and Gwyn was the Priestess. What started out as Az’s nickname for her due to her religious upbringing, he said watching her get into the zone was like watching a priestess praying to the Mother. At some point, that nickname went from one of teasing to a term of endearment.

After completing some shopping and stopping at Feyre’s studio to say hi to her and Nyx, she finally made her way to the River House. It was situated along the sidra just a short ten minute walk from Feyre’s studio, just so she could be close in case of an emergency. 

As Gwyn reached the penthouse floor of the complex, she was greeted by Nuala and Cerridwen, two of her fellow spies and the receptionists who dealt with their more nuanced clients. 

“Afternoon, Ladies!” Gwyn chimed as she strode towards Rhysands office. 

“Morning, Gwyn,” the two chimed in unison. It used to bother Gwyn that they were always so in sync with each other, but she bet that truly stemmed from her jealousy over the twins and the bond that they shared. Being close to them helped Gwyn remember the good things about Catrin, not just the bitter end of their connection. 

Gwyn came to Rhysand’s sleek black double doors which were open just slightly. She knocked as a courtesy, even though she knew that if his door was ever open like that it meant that anyone could come in without notice. 

As she entered the office, Rhys was seated casually behind his desk, and before him lay Azriel. She was grateful neither of them had superhuman hearing, or else they would have heard her heart skip a beat at seeing Azriel for the first time since their discussion that morning. She took all of one second to school her face into neutrality before coming in and sitting next to him before Rhys’s desk. 

“You wanted to talk to me, Rhys?” Gwyn said, wanting to get straight to business. The sooner they could finish this meeting, the sooner she and Az would go home and finish what they started this morning. 

“Yes. Afternoon to you too, Gwyn,” Rhys chuckled in a mocking tone. 

She smiled at the man who had become more of an older brother to her than a boss. They had bonded when Catrin died as Rhys had lost his sister and mother to a car accident a few years prior. Gwyn reminded him of his little sister, and Rhys had the same tenacity and quick mind that Catrin had. By this point, Rhys knew that if Gwyn wanted to get right to business, it was nothing personal. 

She had always hated the idea of mixing her personal life with work, but now those lines were as blurred as she could possibly make them. 

“Good afternoon, Rhys. The weather is lovely. I stopped by the studio to see your wife. You are going to have a fantastic time getting the green paint out of every nook and cranny of that wild son of yours. Feyre’s forest-scape palette ended up all over him,” Gwyn teased him. Nyx was adorable and everytime Gwyn saw him of late, she always imagined what he would look like with red hair and freckles instead of his black hair and blue eyes. 

Rhys just laughed and sighed at that. His son was a hellion, and growing up in an art studio gave him free reign to get into as much trouble as his little heart could handle. 

“Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, I would like to know why you called me out of my assignment early today.” She shot a wary glare towards Azriel as she said, “And why are you here, Az? Shouldn’t you be decoding the information on the flashdrive I gave you?”

Az glared right back at her. They both knew better than to think that the glares given to each other here were real. It was all just an act. “I finished decoding them last night. We got everything we needed. The final hit is good to go.”

Gwyn bristled. Last night. He hadn’t even mentioned it to her. The shock on her face was genuine as she said, “Seriously? Their encoding must be garbage if you could get through them within a few hours.”

Az threw her a wry smirk, “I'm just that good, Priestess. Do keep up.” 

They could have kept this going forever, but Rhys cleared his throat and said, “Now that we have the evidence we need, the final stage of the mission can begin . You two will need to infiltrate the fundraiser gala tomorrow. Gwyn, you got the tickets?” She nodded in response.  “Good. You will need to find a way to get Beron alone with you, where we will then ambush you two. He will never suspect your involvement. From there, it's up to you,” he gestured to Az, “if you want to make him talk or not. I trust our client will give you the rest of the details.”

“And who, pray tell, is our client High Lord?” Gwyn teased. Finally, finally she was going to meet the client who had been paying millions in advance to gather the information we needed to incriminate Beron and get him wiped off this planet permanently. 

“Glad you asked, Priestess,” Rhys said with a knowing smile. He pressed the button on his desk and said, “Bring him in, Nuala.” 

A moment later the door swung open. And standing there was none other than Eris Vanserra himself. 

[anotherwvba]

Learning on the Job, pt. 9

The early Friday evening brought a harsh chill to Atlanta. The streets outside the Omni Arena were wrapped in a cold embrace. And amidst the shivering pedestrians walking downtown and the cars driving the streets with their exhaust rising in the air, Gemma Golden sat on a bench, bundled in a warm coat, a steaming cup of tea in her hands.

Even with the chatter and laughter of passers by and the hum of traffic, she was focused, her gaze locked on the Omni marquee sign high above as it flickered through the matches for tomorrow night, hers included.

As the marquee continued its cycle and Gemma stared introspectively, a figure in a teal hoodie, hood drawn tight and a scarf covering most of her face, jogged past. Her pace was markedly faster than the casual foot traffic, but Gemma paid it no attention. Her focus was inward.

The jogger, on the other hand, slowed down and glanced back. Then, she jogged back to the bench before jogging in place for a moment, then pulling down her scarf to speak.

“Gemma?” Mika’s voice startled Gemma out of her introspection. Mika’s smile was warm, but there was concern in her voice, “What are you doing out here in the cold? You don’t want to get sick before tomorrow night.”

Gemma’s eyes glanced back to the marquee, her voice soft, “Opening night jitters, love. It’s a superstition that I have. Before the opening curtain on any performance, I sit outside the venue and watch the marquee. It helps me remember, no turning back now. Someone believes in me enough to put my name in lights.” Her eyes finally shifted to meet Mika’s, “Can’t let them down.”

“Naiintindihan ko,” Mika’s expression softened with understanding. “May I join you?”

Gemma made room as she gestured to a space on the bench. “Please do.”

“I get it,” Mika nodded as she sat beside Gemma. “I get needing to be in the right headspace before a fight. You’re stepping into another world when you step in the ring.” Mika’s eyes now, too, went to the marquee, seeing her and Gemma’s names as opponents tomorrow night. “Gotta center yourself.”

Gemma smiled as she turned to Mika. “Skye told me you have a similar ritual. And it makes sense to me now why you missed our last few sessions. I would think it awkward to prepare to fight someone you’ve been making ready to fight back.”

Mika was about to apologize, but Gemma raised her hand to stop her. “Please, Mika. There’s no need for apologies. I understand that this is all… part of it. I’m a wee bit new, but I’m a fast learner.”

The opponents sat together in silence for a moment, the bustling sounds and the Atlanta streets filling the void. With a deep breath to steady her nerves, Gemma’s expression turned serious. “Might I ask you a pointed question? And I insist on an honest answer.”

Mika gave an earnest nod, “Siyempre. Anything, Gemma.”

Gemma’s voice dropped to barely a whisper. Her question was one that haunted her since the moment Dudley first told her of the match a couple of weeks ago. “Tomorrow night, when we fight, do you intend to hurt me?”

It took a tense moment before Mika found her voice. “Gemma, we are going to be boxing and you’re my opponent. So, I mean…” Mika’s voice trailed off, not wanting to put words to the inherent violence of her, now their, sport.

“Try.” Gemma’s one word startled Mika. Gemma’s eyes returned to the marquee, the flicker of the lights seeming to harden Gemma’s resolve. “Please, Mika. You bloody well give me your best. If you get the chance to lay me out, take it. I fully intend to do the same.”

“Ano?!” Mika blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness. “This time last week, you wanted me to throw the fight. I mean, you wanted us to rehearse and stage the whole thing. This is… quite the change.”

Gemma exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the chill air. “Skye’s made a big difference. She’s walked in both our worlds, stage and ring. Asking you to stage our fight would be like someone asking me to lip sync a scene live on stage. I’ve insulted you, and badly, I’m sorry, Mika.”

“No need to apologize,” Mika's voice carried concern. “But, if you’re not fully prepared to defend yourself, and I do what I’m capable of doing, I could seriously hurt you. You understand that, right?”

Gemma met Mika’s eyes, a slight smile on her lips. “I will be ready, Mika. It would be an insult to my castmate if I didn’t. That’s how I’m looking at this. This is a show, albeit a potentially quite painful show, and you are my castmate. I’ve never let a show or a fellow performer down and I have no intention of starting now.”

Warmth spread through Mika and it showed in her smile, “Alright, then I see your question and raise you my own. You gonna hurt me in the ring tomorrow?”

Mika saw a flash of determination in Gemma’s eyes, “Not in any lasting manner, Mika, no. But, I have every intention of thrashing you quite soundly tomorrow night. And I don’t just want to win tomorrow, I want us to steal the show.”

“Oo!” Mika nodded her approval "Gemma, girl, I promise you all I’ve got then. We’ll show them for making us the opener! But, I want you to know one thing." Mischief filled Mika’s eyes, "There’s no way you’re knocking me out."

“We’ll see about that, sunshine,” Gemma smiled, opening her arms for a hug. Mika and Gemma’s embrace melted away their tension and apprehension toward their coming fight. “Thank you for everything, Mika. I’d be honored if you’d consider us friends," Gemma’s voice was muffled against Mika’s shoulder.

"Absolutely," Mika pulled back from the hug with a smile. “I should finish my run.” As Mika stood up, her expression was one of anticipation, “You know, the next time we see each other, we’ll be across the ring from each other. Opponents.”

 "I look forward to it,” Gemma shared Mika’s expression and had no hesitation. “I’m glad my first official bout is with you."

Mika, now jogging in place, raised an eyebrow, "First bout?"

Gemma’s smile turned sheepish, "Best of luck tomorrow, Mika."

“Break a leg, Gemma.” Mika pulled her scarf back up and resumed her run, leaving Gemma to watch her disappear in the darkening evening.

Once Mika was out of sight, Gemma’s eyes returned to the marquee. Once again, her match with Mika was in the lights, and a genuine anticipation swept over her. Gemma smiled and sipped her tea. They would steal the show. “Yeah, Mika. We’ll show them all. We’re no opening act.”

Star Mika is an OC belonging to @cyrah-is-cool101 and is used with permission.

[sasster]

Oneirology

What does Cylion even do for their followers anyway?

[Google Doc]

--

“Oh! Cylion! Thank the Dreamer I could find you before you’d left.”

“She smiles upon you with fortune.”

“Lately.. It does not feel like that.”

Great. Before taking the mantle from your ancestor, you were worried about interactions like this. Where work would see freetime passing through your fingertips at a rate impossible to keep up with. Sooner or later you’ll find yourself without sleep, and how funny would that be?

The mouthpiece for a dream oriented religion missing out on his own sleep.

Growing into the role, however, you have come to appreciate these intrusions more and more. Interpreting dreams has become a bit of a pastime for you. Even beyond what it means for the church.

You turn to face the follower and are treated with the sight of a poor disheveled looking fellow – Sunken sleepless eyes, hair that has not been washed or seen a brush in the better half of a perigee, and a wrinkled set of what looked like was once a lovely set of pajamas stained and fraying at the ends.

What a sorry sight.

It takes some energy, but you manage to bite back the look of disgust that nearly etches itself into your features.

Maybe, just maybe, the Dreamer does not smile upon her with fortune.

“I haven’t had more than a handful of hours of sleep in weeks,” she starts, taking a tentative step forward. “When I do get to sleep it’s terror after terror. The same dream over and over. Sopor does not help.”

Her lip trembles with effort, her voice a pathetic squeak irritating to hear. 

So much for the night off.

“Please help me.”

“That is what I am here for.” You say with a soft smile, swallowing your disdain as you take her trembling hand into yours. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable. Will you tell me about the dream in the meantime?”

- - - 

 You bring her back to a secluded area that lives in a part of the church that very few are allowed to enter beyond yourself, Somnia, and the Dreamer herself. A quiet place designed to promote rest for the restless.The room itself is painted blue with streaks of silver that extend from the far wall up into the ceiling where they converge into the sign of the Dreamer, enabling her to ‘watch’ the troubled even when she could not be in attendance.

The entire thing was Nymira’s idea. Not a bad one. 

“You’re sure you can help me?” The frazzled teal blood asks as you help her into the canopy bed that lives at the center of the room, with an opening that allows the sign to be the last thing they see.

“I would like to pray over you while you sleep.” You say simply, removing the sunflower from your left eye and handing it to her.

She sits with it in her hands, running a hand over the petals in a soothing motion.

“You want me to sleep? Now?”

“If you can.”

Just as the words leave your mouth, Somnia enters the room with a mug in tow.

“Poppet here has brought you some tea, to help.”

She nods eagerly and sets the charm on the pillow so she can take the mug into both hands.

“Thank you, Somnia!”

Somnia looks deep into her eyes for a brief moment and grins.

“Sleep tight.”

And just like that, he is gone. Muttering a prayer under his breath as he goes.

The troubled follower takes small sips of her drink as you begin your prayer.

“I call upon you, Divine Dreamer, to help guide in the mending of the rift between Timera and her bond with the divine realm,” Gently, you take the mug from her hands and lay her down so her head rests comfortably near the flower. “Hear my plea, Great One that plays with the mortals and grace us once more with your gifts –”

A soft snore cuts you off.

“That was fast. I had another thirty minutes of that.” You sigh and run your hand through your hair as your left eye begins to glow. An ambient blue that forces the silver in the bed curtains to shimmer. “Let's have a look.”

- - -

A handful of dreams pass that mean nothing to you, ones Timera will not even remember, before the one you are looking for comes to pass. It starts out exactly as she explained – A blazing inferno of a fire in the forest she once called home. She stands at the center of it with all exits blocked off by a wall of flame.

This is the sort of dream that could just as easily represent the anxiety that comes along with trying something new. A manifestation of being held back by some force larger than oneself, the fear of letting go of the past. It could also be a trauma response, a latent post-trauma response she is unaware of that hides deep within her. But as she explained it, her old home still stands.

Upset between the Divine and mortal worlds is what these troubled sleepers want to hear, it makes it easier to swallow when someone else can fix the problem.

Time telling is murky when visiting a dream. What feels like an hour for her, and therefore what you perceive, could be less than a minute in the waking world. There is a lull as the fire grows around her, slowly encroaching as she stumbles around looking for her escape.

There is none. The dream ends when she burns to a crisp.

Dreams are illogical in that way. She would sooner die from smoke inhalation. To be consumed by the flames? She fears a new commitment in her waking life.

It consumes her just as this fire does.

This girl has got some problems.

Right when the flames start to kis at her feet, something else happens. The visage of Nymira appears, arms wrapped tightly around her charge. It is convenient that her tail is as big as it is, she uses it to fan the flames of the fire completely.

What could Nymira possibly say to make this all better?

“I am sorry you were made to suffer for so long.” Her voice, soft as it is, echoes through the dreamscape, as though it does not come from the vessel that squeezes her follower tight. Like a wisp of air. “Rest easy now, dear dreamer.”

The teal blood sits in stunned silence for a beat, when she opens her mouth to speak Nymira’s voice is once again heard all around.

“Rest. No more harm will come to you.”

A second passes and Nymira is gone.

Another and the forest is restored to its original state.

A third and you are back in the waking world, looking down at a follower that seems to be having a much more pleasant sleep.