#wearing cats eye gemstones

[catseyegemstone]

Side Effects Of Ketu With Remedies

Ketu, the shadow planet in Vedic astrology, is often associated with mystical, spiritual, and karmic influences. Ketu has no physical presence, unlike the visible planets, but significantly impacts the astrological chart. Understanding Ketu’s side effects and remedies can help individuals mitigate its challenges and harness its potential for spiritual growth.

[katsukistofu]

hug me, not it!

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ s. todoroki x gn reader ⭑ your boyfriend has hidden beef with your plushies.

shoto beadily eyes the intruding beasts behind you with distaste subtly written over his pretty features.

the “intruding beasts” being your plushies neatly lined up against the wall of your dorm.

did he buy most of them for you with his father’s credit card whenever the two of you went on dates? yes.

does that mean he was any happier to see them in his presence? no.

they already get the privilege to sleep with you every night. how dare they gatecrash on the both of your precious private time like this? uninvited too?

it’s silly, he knows, but he always gets the tiniest bit jealous when he comes to your room for study sessions or sleepovers, even movie nights.

only to see you cuddling with that damn rilakkuma bear plush he gave you last year to celebrate your anniversary in your lap. for the millionth time. in his spot.

shoto can’t help but feel a little replaced.

he throws one last glance over your shoulder at the offending sacks of fluff, before his soft strawberries and créme hair brushes your chin as he nuzzles deeper into the crook of your neck.

“sho!” you giggle. “that tickles.”

you feel a faint smile against your collarbone. just the slightest bit mischievous enough for you to be able to tell, as he lets out that quiet, melodic laugh of his. “sorry.”

he’s not really, though. shoto peeks back over at your plushies, the barest hint of smugness visible on his lips.

mine. shoto thinks while looking at them, arms circling your waist.

unaware of the one-sided competition for your affections behind you, you’re deadset on a mission for revenge.

gently, you brush the tips of your fingers along his neck.

shoto’s ridiculously handsome as he leans into your touch with a curious tilt of his head.

“what are you doing?”

his bangs fall into his eyes as he questions you, and you feel your heart skip a beat, wondering how he’s even real.

“trying to tickle you back!” you desperately attempt to do so again under his arms and on his thigh.

other than a blink from him, still no reaction.

“love.”

you don’t seem to hear him.

“shoto, lie on your tummy.”

he complies easily, always one to humor your bouts of inquisitiveness. whenever you were focused on something, you tended to tune everything else out.

shoto stretches out on your bed with his tall frame not unlike a cat. but his head is still turned back to you, staring at you to try and to get your attention.

“love.” you’re trying to tickle the back of his knee now, to no avail.

finally, you raise your head to look at him. “yeah?”

“i’m not ticklish.” shoto deadpans.

“what, really?” you whine, stopping your attack on his leg. “not even as a baby?”

“no.” amusement dances in his gemstone eyes as he studies you. “touya always got mad when he tried to, because it never worked.”

you stifle a giggle behind your hand. “what did you do to make him tickle you in the first place?”

“exist,” your boyfriend says so simply that you have to let out a laugh.

you reach out to cup the side of his cheek, and there’s a soft intake of breath from him as his lashes flutter shut.

shoto wonders how your gentle touch always makes him feel warm all over, when he’s certain he’s not even using his quirk.

it’s strange. in good way.

“why do you like cuddling those plushies so much?” he murmurs, eyes still closed.

a flustered expression that he can’t see spreads across your face.

“um, i guess it’s ’cause they smell like you and at night it helps me sleep?”

“oh.” his eyes blink open in surprise at that, warmth starting to grow on his cheeks.

shoto takes in the sheepish grin you’re wearing, and reaches out to cup your burning cheek similarly like how you did with his moments before.

you shiver into his sweet and soft touch, and the side of his lips quirk up.

“you can cuddle them. but when i’m here, the only one that should be in your arms is me.”

[pierofilm]

broken lipstick. yjw

2024 | 16+ | ONESHOT 1.8K. | G-yandere; W-obsession, possessive, unhinged jungwon lol, forced kissing with lipstick yes.

DIRECTOR's CUT, found an old note of ideas in my phone from 2022 about jungwon × lipsticks, and thought that it would be a pity to not write about it so here it is. this is kind of like an experimental storytelling, just finding my way with the rhythm and pacing of the words, sentences, and grammar. so if it kinda sounds weird, apologies in advance lol !

finding yourself trapped in this world he created for you drives you terribly insane.

down, and down you go.

every words he spills—he claims that he had spent hours and days of effort for this room, curating it just how you would like it; makeup palettes and brushes, lipsticks, magazines, jewelries, pretty and dainty sundresses, coquettish bows and laces perfectly matching your taste.

everything single thing before you—was all you've ever dreamt for, wished for, manifested for. bare skin planted firmly on this king-sized bed you've listed as one of your life wishes, wrists and necks adorned with saccharine gemstones—ones you've often seen on magazines.

every single damn thing was here.

he claims that he did it because he wishes nothing but to see the finest shade of happiness be illustrated on your visage; for bliss and satisfaction weaved under the strings of fairy tales, you shall wish nothing more but to remain abode.

yes, it is an exact replica of your dream room yet a lot more bigger, lavish, but certainly not home. a doll house would be a much better, fitting term. or perhaps, a prison—masquerade as the definition of your perfect little utopia.

his eyebrows knitted at the way you worded it, saying that such comparison is absurd, and certainly is not the truth. for all that was before you, is all yours to take—and so is he.

all yours to take, he says.

but if it was yours, then why can't you wear all it outside? has he ever thought that all these things is fucking useless if you can't even bring it with you out of this sickening room? what's all these even for, you asks. he replies with that same sickening smile, "why, silly, of course it's for you."

you repeated it with spite, "no, this is not for me. you're doing this for you."

"if you say so," he brought his finger against your cheek, stroking it ever so sickeningly, causing you to lean away. "you're my priority here, your wants and needs are at the best interest of my heart. nothing more, nothing less."

it didn't miss your eyes how his composed visage falters ever so slightly, so subtle—it almost slips away from your fingers but you saw it and you didn't care.

his soul, you despises—every word etched of his existence, you loathed. death shall greet him, and you'd never spare a glance.

why would you? when just a month ago, a world filled with the brightest prospects was all waiting for you, but his grim arrival dims every glowing lantern ahead of your path, ultimately sealing the door to your future tight and begone.

akin to a rat in a trap under a cat's claws; your sanity wilting with each passing day. how many days or months has it been? you lose track of time. where is your phone, even? oh why, he asks? books and magazines was what you'd prefer over some petty little devices, so why would you need them now?

rage, despair, helplessness; you released all these pent-up frustration with each object you slammed against the floor, scattered about in a hazard mess. broken, shattered in pieces like you do. he should see it, feel it, of how his own hard work are gone into the drain, like what he had put you into.

footsteps approaching from the distance.

the door flew open, just like how he often appears, ruining every single opportunity you had back then. he appears too composed, inexplicably unfazed at the ravage scene before his eyes. his own efforts obliterated into nothing, every single thing he spent time on perfecting was wasted, in downright shambles.

you drop on your knees, suppressing your sobs as he approaches with small steps.

it was all too silent, with only your shaky gasps blending with the solemn air. with your head down, eyes locked against the wooden floor, and on your clenched fists shaking with grueling anticipation, you glance nervously at how he stands so still—staring down at you like you were an object.

you wish he just would kill you right now.

in your peripherals, however, you caught the sight of his fingers grabbing the tossed lipstick, now broken in half—it's smoothened tip now uneven. you waited for him to say something, perhaps throw profanities at you for ruining this dollhouse he had spent hours and days at.

grow mad at me, hate me, and then throw me away. in your head, you chanted these words—prayers it ultimately morphs into.

however a gasp spills out of your lips, your breath caught at the back of your throat upon seeing him applying the lipstick on his lips, still and all—while humming a melodic tune as he does so.

"is this how you do it?"

you didn't answer, only imbued with aghast at the deep shade of crimson hugging his lips. as peculiar as it may seem, you can't deny that this visage of his perfectly adorns it.

he steps closer, alarming you—manifesting straight to your eyes widening in sheer panic.

with strong arms, jungwon catches your legs before you could push him away, pulling you closer where he forces you to face him, gripping your jaw so tight and suffocatingly so into his well of eyes; with it's depths you could never fathom till your last breath.

yet he begs you to drown in them, to answer all the questions written all over within—what's so fucking wrong to just stay obedient, and be his oh so sweet darling? why can't you see his love and dedication for you? of how he's ready to give up everything for you?

maybe a slap to your pretty face would tighten the screw in your head a little, or perhaps a yell pulled out from his throat would do the trick, but oh darling—profanities don't suit you, nor does it do you justice to be treated so harshly.

fragile you are, and such a fragile one should be nested, sheltered away from this merciless world. you do not need to lift a finger, or tire your pretty little head over useless things but..

but why is it that you refuse to understand him?

evident it was, through the way you dug your nails on his hands, imbuing your ever growing hatred to him. not a single word spoken, nor spitting at each other but through your eyes—your rampant wishes of spitting him death grows enormous.

die, die, just die.

you held your breath, as a stroke of his finger on your temple—slides down your cheek. a grimace takes form on your feature as he leans in, propelling your body to fight harder against his—though, he remains stronger and faster—pouncing on you like a prey, diving in with his venom-laced fangs into your lips, forcefully so.

his carnal desires takes form across your visage; smudged, blotted, and smeared. a shade so intensified through his vows to make you understand his perception of love.

they say that love is patient, love is kind, love is forgiving.

no, that's bullshit. it's fucking slippery, a mess, metallic taste leaking out from your lip—spilling into his tongue, only for him to hum in frenzied delight. a taste so sweet, so divine, like caramel melting in his cavern.

tilting his head sideways—his tongue went further into yours, twisting and knotting like wet fabric—pooling an amalgamation of saliva, blood, and lipstick down the corner of your mouth. sticky palms on the back of your neck, spiralling you down and down into these candied greed.

heat, searing, throbbing immensely—this pain, do you understand it now? that's how his heart mourns towards your ungratefeful, petty actions. have you perhaps realise it? maybe not yet, as you still had this little fight in you, a funny sight to behold.

your head spins, flashing in mismatched colors, jaw throbbing by his gracious mouth of flames—infiltrating every corner.

soaking everything in you with his relentless rhythm—a pace you could never match as it accelerates beyond what you can take with each second. his lips, like a paint brush—and you, like a paper being crumpled into every way possible. moulding your speech into incoherent sentences, strings of pathetic cries for help drowned out into the void, your prayers to god himself had been engulfed by a devil's kiss.

what's a god, even? they say humans are made in the image of god, but he dare say that not even god are comparable to you, nor those who reign above the heavens—angels, sirens, succubus or whatever the hell are there—your feet they shall kiss.

a canvas you are—pure, and untainted. a masterpiece in the making, not even the greatest artist known to mankind could do justice to your beauty.

you're his haven, his abode. yet also a temptation, a sin, his inferno. every edge of your portrait tweaked perfectly into his own ideals and fantasies, yet also a curse, the poisonous bane of his life, so toxic—it contaminates his soul.

decaying, decomposing—perhaps he was the serpent, and you're the tenant of the garden. insatiable, the apple of eden couldn't be as mouthwatering as your visage.

so why, can't you understand his love?

if you couldn't see it before, then he'll make sure you'll see it now.

dragging you across the floor, jungwon forces you to meet your reflection in the shattered mirror. on your knees, you met this drowned out visage of yours, all visible for you to observe; disheveled hair, your cheeks bathed in intense shades of red, all the same to your neck and shoulders, lips swollen with a visible cut, drenched in all his unspoken words. a mess, you are.

his pretty little mess.

yet what a masterpiece you are, still. he coos with lips pursing up in a sweetened grin, as if he had sucked out all remaining little bits inside your little jar of hope. do you see it now? how every part of you belongs to him, all for his lips to take and taste.

"you look even prettier, all broken like this." jungwon isn't very much different, but while you look like a corpse bludgeoned into mayhem. the image he bears was of a bloodthirsty demon, an animalistic abstraction.

through the mirror, you could see him shuffling around—looking for something amongst the mess, only for the same lipstick he used as an instrument for this macabre play—returning to his palms.

with him back to your side, he delivered a stroke down your hair, tucking your locks behind your ear. a chin he places on your shoulder, one hand under your tummy and the other looped around your shoulder to reach for your lips.

the same broken lipstick, made its way on your lower lip. a shade so deep, so heavy, amplified by his twisted affection. all dolled up for only his eyes to see. your luscious hair—inviting him closer and closer, savoring the way it hugs his fingers. too delicate, the broken mirror could only shy away from you.

"mirror, mirror on the wall," the lipstick tossed on the floor, replaced by his thumb lapping your lip. "who's the fairest of them all?"

© 2022-2024, pieroulette on [tumblr].

[llamagoddessofficial]

May I have some Fae Killer dating headcanons?

Fae Killer is... weird

He's extremely hard to get a read on. At least the other Winter courtiers are easy to make sense of - Dust is quiet and serious, Horror is big and scary but shy, Nightmare is regal and refined with an undercurrent of rage. They make sense.

Killer? He's violent, but he's always got a friendly grin. He has the same "who, me?" expression whether he's eating a cookie or murdering someone. His backstory is unknown, changing every time someone asks. He appears to speak genuinely and openly, yet no one can trust a single word that comes out of his mouth. His knack for tricking and stealing is unparalleled, he tricks people out of things as small as their eye colour or as huge as their ability to breathe, all with the exact same 'silly' easygoing aura. He rescues stray cats from the cold and brings them into the castle, feeding them fish and chicken every day, but he also delights in torturing people he doesn't like.

Perhaps the only consistent thing about him is how obviously he's in love with you.

Even before dating him, his affection is blatant. He acts like he wants to be your best friend, your closest confidant, he's always looking for reassurance that he's your 'favourite'. The other skeletons will tell you that he doesn't shut up about you when you're not there. He's constantly outrageously flirting - he seems to show love through stealing from you, taking minor things like your ability to read the word 'strawberry', just so you'll get mad at him (it's obvious he thinks you're hot when you're mad). You're always covered in black marks and he laughs at almost everything you say.

When you do start dating him, he just... stops tricking you. Stops stealing from you, too. There's no warning, and no clear reason; you're just suddenly the only person in any world who's safe from his trickery. You could say something that leaves you wide open and the guy who could steal someone's nose from their face will act like he heard/saw nothing.

He's cuddly. So, so cuddly. It's actually kinda cute, when he's sleepy and aggressively snuggly with you. Kinda feels like he's been starved of affection, and he's making up for it by never letting you go.

No matter where you fall asleep, you'll wake up to Killer cuddled up. Probably a few of his cats piled in as well.

His number 1 goal is to get you laughing. There's always jokes, always remarks, it's so hard to be serious around him because he knows exactly what'll get you giggling. That's worth more to him than all the treasures in Summer and Winter.

He's generally an easygoing datemate, he has outlets for his jealousy. But he takes EXTREME offence to another fae stealing something from you. That means immediate violence.

This man will kill for you. In fact, he'll offer that option alarmingly quickly. Please ask him not to kill for you, for everyone else's safety.

His romantic side is dialled up to eleven. You're always coming home to mood lighting and surprise dinners, he's always taking you to beautiful scenic spots he's found in the Winter realm, he gives you things that remind him of you (typically flowers and gemstones, but sometimes magical artefacts, and occasionally something rather expensive that looks like it was stolen right from the Summer realm).

He's constantly wearing a 'happy' face. But sometimes, in private, the face falls. You can glimpse the part of himself he hides from everyone. If you can still hold him when he's not funny anymore, when the mask has fallen off... then he will burn down the whole world for you.

[sea-lanterns]

RING SIZES

synopsis: genshin women trying to find your ring size

featuring: eula, yelan, miko, ningguang

rating: sfw (anyone can interact)

warnings: gn! reader, fluff, kissing, affectionate physical touches, slightly suggestive content (miko's), already established relationship, not proof read.

art credits: whisper me a love song

EULA

When you got home that evening, you noticed that Eula wasn’t waiting for you in the living room like she usually did, ready to greet you the moment you set foot through the door. That’s fine, she’s probably somewhere else in the house then, right? Either that or she was still working late and won’t get home until later. You didn’t mind, you could wait for your girlfriend as long as it takes!

See, that’s what you thought at first. However, as you went to set your work stuff down and take off your shoes, you hear rummaging in your bedroom and the sounds of Eula’s frustrated grunts.

“Now where would they…”

Oh, so she was home, she was just in your bedroom! You smiled and set your bag down to make your way over to your room, peeking in through the illuminated crack of the door to see what she was up to. Eula was busy hunched over the dresser that housed all your clothes, digging through a wooden jewelry box you kept atop the dresser, while pushing through various bracelets, necklaces, and other jeweled accessories. 

“Wh-…” you decided not to say anything and settled for hiding behind the door to see what she was doing. Why was she rummaging through all your stuff? She didn’t need to be so secretive, if she wanted to wear some of your jewelry she could just ask…

“Ah…finally…” Your eyes lit up as Eula pulled out one of your rings, admiring the glisten of one of the gemstones and holding it up in the air to examine. “I think this is it, it should be their size…” She smiled softly and cupped the precious ring in her hand, rubbing her fingers over the smooth, worn out metal.

“This time it’ll be a real diamond, my love…”

Your eyes widened at her implications, turning away from the door to quietly walk away and pretend like you didn’t see anything. Was this real? Did you just…witness her plans to propose to you?

You almost let out a squeal of excitement, yet also bashed yourself for having caught her in the midst of it. Whatever! It wasn’t like you knew when she was going to propose…

“Home already, darling?” You heard her say, turning around to face your girlfriend with nervous eyes. “Ah…yeah, I just got home a minute ago. How was work?”

“Sufficient, I suppose…”  Eula smiled and walked over to plant a kiss on your forehead, your eyes noticing her slip the ring into her back pocket. “I missed you, but I need to make an errand now, my darling. I’ll be back soon.”

“Oh? Where to in this late hour?” You tease, folding your arms and smiling expectedly at her. 

“Mm, nowhere too important.” Eula chuckled, picking up your hand and planting a small kiss on your ring finger. “Let’s just say I need to make a special order…”

Your heart hammered at the implications. 

YELAN

Usually you’d go to bed without Yelan. That’s okay, you understood what her job was like and enjoyed the little sprinkles of time she gave to you whenever she was off duty. Though sparse, she loved you dearly, and you didn’t mind too much as Yelan would always try her best to finish missions early so she could come home and snuggle up to you.

Tonight was no different. As you slowly stirred awake at the sound of your door lock clicking, you smiled and tried not to open your eyes when you heard Yelan’s careful footsteps walking down the hall. She didn’t know this, but you made a habit of memorizing her walk patterns. From the click of her heels to the tired yet sexy sigh she exhaled after a long day, you could tell it was her…

Like a cat, she slowly crept into your bedroom, smiling at the sight of your figure all balled up on her side of the bed. How cute, she’d always find you sleeping on her side, a sight so precious she’d often wish she could just photograph it. 

“I’m home…” she’d mutter softly, your eyes still closed as you wanted her to think you were asleep. “…Ah, out like a light I see.”

You resisted the urge to smile as Yelan pressed a chaste kiss against your forehead, the sounds of her rummaging through her closet —presumably to change into her sleepwear— and going to lie down beside you, spooning you from behind. She let out a breathy sigh and wrapped her arms around your waist, you’d think she’d start passing out by now judging by how tired she was, but your instinct told you she was still awake.

That’s odd, was she still staring at you? You wanted to turn around and open your eyes but sleep was starting to slow you down. Perhaps she’ll fall asleep at some point and just—

Then Yelan reached out and gently caressed your left hand, picking it up like it was made of glass. Oh? What’s this…? Your heart sped up as she held your hand carefully, fingers circling around your ring finger as she quietly hummed in thought. 

What was she doing? Her fingers were rubbing at the circumference of your left ring finger as if she were trying to gauge something. Could it be…? Was she trying to figure out your ring size?

Yelan sighed and you could just feel her smile from behind you. Her hand is still holding onto yours while she buries her face into the back of your neck, fingers entwined like a lock while she exhales breathily into your skin.

“I should use paper, it’s more efficient that way…”

With one last sleepy grumble, she finally closed her eyes to let sleep overtake her, unaware of the blushing person who heard her coddled up in her arms.

MIKO

As sly and cunning Yae Miko can be, she was absolutely stumped with how to find your ring size without you noticing. She’s tried countless times to measure the circumference whenever you were distracted, yet your intuitive gaze would always catch her whenever she tried to do something sneaky. Leading to her utter defeat, as it was hopeless to distract you long enough to mark the measurements she needed.

The kitsune huffed and slouched over her work desk with a frown. Her tail wagging sporadically out of annoyance as she wanted nothing more than to just flat out ask you. 

“Hm…how irritating…” she crossed her arms as sparks flew out of her vision with fury, lighting threatening to shoot out if not for the calm and soothing voice of her lover. 

“Morning Miko,” you hummed, walking into her office like you owned the place. “Eh? The air is all dark and frizzy. Did you accidentally get fur in your tea again?”  

“I— no.” Miko chuckled nervously at your statement because while that wasn’t the reason she was  frazzled, she did in fact get some fur in her tea due to shedding season. ‘Now is not the time to tell them that. I’ll just cut to the chase.’

“Morning little one, how was last night’s rest?” She hums, walking over to kiss you lightly on the lips. Enjoying your little sigh of satisfaction, she grins and leans forward to kiss you a little deeper, taking notice of how you grew so lost in the kiss, that your eyes fluttered shut in response. ‘Oh…this gives me an idea…’ 

As you broke away from the kiss to catch your breath, Miko suddenly nudged you back so you would start backing up in the direction of her desk. “Ah…Miko, I can walk you know—”

“I know I know…” was her voice getting…sultry? Oh no, you can’t do it here! You’re in her office! Plus, you did it last night already…

“Miko, wait…we can’t…”

Little did you know Miko had bigger plans…

“Mm, don’t worry, little one. I won’t go too hard on you…” She purred and put on her best seductive facade, reaching forward to grasp your left hand gently. “Just relax…and let me take over…” 

As she leaned forward to keep you locked within a deep and passionate kiss, her hands were busy at work as she had no time to spare! Hands grasping over her desk to grab a slip of paper, she slid it over your ring finger, creasing the edge where the ends meet. ‘Perfect. I got it.’

Pulling away from the kiss with a grin, she chuckled at your dazed face and brushed your hair back to tease you, enjoying the way you whined. 

“I got what I needed, thanks for the help little one…”

NINGGUANG

Ningguang is a busy woman, and busy women don’t often have the time to sneak around to get your ring size. While the thought is incredibly charming, she’d rather find your ring size in a rather…flashy, yet secretive kind of way that only a woman like herself could pull off.

What do I mean by flashy? I mean this woman literally went out to buy a ring of every size from the jeweler and gift them all to you in the disguise of a harmless present. An efficient, yet very expensive move as not only will she be able to figure out your size, but she’d be able to figure out what your taste in gemstones was like…

How clever of her. No wonder Ningguang was such a smart woman.

The moment you entered the Jade Chamber, you were surprised when her three secretaries suddenly pulled you over to a room that housed various shining rings with different little gemstones. These small, little gifts were probably worth a fortune to many, leaving you speechless at the sight of your girlfriend smirking in confidence.

“Hello there, dear,” She waved a hand over for you to join her, “Happy early birthday, I picked some presents for you to try…”

You raised a brow at this and chuckled amusingly at her gesture, finding the whole ordeal rather extreme. Though, Ningguang was a very extreme woman, perhaps this wasn’t so out of character for a woman like her… 

“My birthday is in four months,” you giggled, eying the rings with a peculiar curiosity. “Don’t tell me you’re celebrating it this early…”

She laughs and grasps your hand with a clawed finger, lightly scratching at your palms while she leads you to their cases. “I just wish to spoil you a bit, that’s all. You may have all of them if you’d like, but I’d like you to tell me how they feel and what you like about them.”

She smiles innocently. “Just to know what you like in the future.”

Okay, that was a little odd but whatever, it was common for your girlfriend to spoil you in riches whenever she wanted to. While material wealth wasn’t what made you happy in this relationship, Ningguang always seemed to enjoy it as she adored the shocked looks on your face whenever she’d bring you something expensive. 

“A little too loose.”

“I think it’s a little tight.”

She hummed in agreement when you slipped the bejeweled bands over your finger, taking mental notes of what was too small and what was too large. “And the gemstones? Which ones do you like?”

The moment you listed off the kinds of shapes, colors, and more importantly, the size of what you liked, Ningguang finally had it. The perfect ring for you. 

“Thank you my love, your input means wonders for me,” she quickly plants a kiss on your lips as she rushes to head back to “work.” 

“I best be going now, enjoy the gifts. I’ll be back for dinner with your favorite.” You were confused as to why she left in such a hurry, but just assumed she had some work to catch up with. Oh well, you chose to ignore it and go back to placing the rings back in their cases…

…Little did you know, Ningguang was actually not rushing to work, but to the jewelers again.

[novy2sirius]

Planetary Hora’s

Hora’s can be used to plan out your days and decide which hours you want to begin certain activities but you also have a natal planetary hour in which you born under. This can tell a lot about your life and the things that were going on around the time of your birth. It can even tell about your appearance

Go to astro-seek.com, find the sidereal chart chart section then click sidereal birth chart, and type your information in then scroll down you will see a section that shows what “hora” (which translates to hour) you were born in. I use fagan bradley sidereal

Sun Hora

People born during this Hora are more likely to attain fame in this lifetime than others. Even if they don’t attain fame in this lifetime though they will still attract lots of attention with little to no effort. They are likely to be known for or have lots of talents, having lots of generosity, being creative, being very confident, doing well in their workplace, and having a vibrant persona. Wearing Ruby gemstones can bring marriage/success into your life more quickly

Examples:

Alexa Demie

Charli Damelio

Moon Hora

People born during this Hora tend to be more strongly connected to the spiritual realm than others. They are very intuitive and have strong emotional intelligence. They are likely to have/be known for their caring nature, adaptability, cleanliness, love for the ocean, and for keeping their life very private. Wearing jewelry with Pearls on it can bring marriage and success more quickly into your life

Examples:

Megan Fox

Cindy Kimberly

Ariana Grande

Beyonce

Elvis Presley

Mercury Hora

People born in this Hora are more likely to gain social media fame than others. They are very curious people and love learning/hearing other peoples perceptions. They are most commonly known for/have lots of intellect, communicative talents/talents involving their voice, a youthful spirit/appearance, a slimmer build, have strong opinions, and are talented writers. Wearing Emerald jewelry can bring marriage and success more quickly into your life

Examples:

Addison Rae

Kim Kardashian

The Weeknd

Venus Hora

People born in this Hora tend to be considered very beautiful to a lot of people. Money comes to them when they need it most and they can gain money very quickly. They make great actors, singers, and models. They may be more materialistic than the other Hora’s. They are likely to be known for or have musical talents, good fashion sense, wealth/financial stability in life, and an abundant love life as well. Wearing Diamond or Opal jewelry often can bring marriage and success more quickly into your life

Examples:

Olivia Rodrigo

Florence Pugh

Zayn Malik

Dua Lipa

Mars Hora

People born during this Hora tend to be more masculine or dominant than others. They are very defensive of the people they love and will do anything to protect them. They often have or are known for their leadership abilities, sex appeal/sexual nature, strong physic/toned body, confidence, competitive nature, and being a passionate person in general. Wearing Coral or Cats Eye jewelry can bring marriage and success more quickly into your life

Examples:

Nicki Minaj

Rihanna

Bella Hadid

Vinnie Hacker

Jupiter Hora

People born during this Hora are usually very successful in life. The women that are born during this Hora tend to be praised by men for their attractiveness/beauty. Things come at ease to them more so than others. The downside is that they may at worst lack self discipline or may not have a very strong work ethic. They are likely to be known for or have an optimistic persona, being naturally popular wherever they go, having strong beliefs, and being intelligent as well as wise. Wearing Yellow Sapphire jewelry can make marriage come quicker/success in general come quicker for these people

Examples:

Madison Beer

Adriana Lima

Scarlett Johansson

Saturn Hora

People born during this Hora are usually forced to mature from a young age. They are likely to be successful, but usually later in life. They must work for anything they want in life unlike people born under the Jupiter Hora, but the pro to this is when they do work for something they will get what they want whereas other Hora’s may work hard and still proceed to fail. Their public image is usually unique. They tend to receive a lot of hate. They are likely to have/be known for their good work ethic, self discipline, mature decision making, and owning businesses. Wearing Blue Sapphire, Amethyst, or Hessonite can bring marriage/success into your life more quickly

Examples:

Theo Von

Lady Gaga

Pete Davidson

Doja Cat

[popodoki]

sfw Catwin drabble

Gold is the Cat King's color. He thinks Edwin would look nice in it too, in shiny things x

One of the Cat King’s love languages is gift giving.  

It concerned Edwin at first, little trinkets, left innocently on his desk, around the office, made him feel like he was supposed to give something back? Felt like he owed the Cat King, especially for the more expensive things, fingers tracing the intricate craftsmanship of paperweights, leafing through rare volumes, softest silks running through his hands. He's concluded, deduced, that it's just another of the ways that his lover shows his affection, the dedication to Edwin a familiar warmth, just expressed in new ways. 

But the jewellery still confuses him. 

They are always given directly, a hopeful gaze on his lover’s face, encouraging smile, silent conversation there that Edwin never quite catches. The first is a bracelet. A simple gold band looping around his wrist, closure resembling a Cat’s head biting down on its own tail. No flashy gemstones, no rough clasps to possibly catch on or irritate his skin. The Cat King holds it out, presses it into Edwin's palm when he curiously holds it out, accepts it. That smirk turning into a smile, a little nod, the hope in those slitted eyes, encourages Edwin to try it on. It fits perfectly, of course it does, a part of Edwin wonders if he’d even take it off if it didn’t, for his lover looks so, so pleased. 

Edwin grows comfortable with its weight, wears it for a while, even on cases. He ends up putting it away, in his pocket, after a case goes south with a spot of trouble, a chase. They manage to escape, they always do, but on the other side of the mirror they jumped through to get to safety, Edwin pats himself down, checks his coat, gloves, wrist. Finds the bracelet’s closure a bit twisted, a probable result of his wrist getting grabbed and pulled by the ghost that chased them, their mania and panic causing them to lash out instead of recognizing their presence for the help that was offered. 

Another mirror journey, they see each other again, Edwin notices the Cat King seems to deflate, brief sadness crosses his face, once he notices the bracelet’s gone. Oh. He cheers right up, his sigh sounding relieved, when Edwin presents him the bracelet from his pocket, asks him to fix it, please. 

It's a free for all, after that. Every time they see each other, often, near daily, as new lovers are wont to gravitate towards each other as if any absence tugs on them like a string pulled taut, the Cat King has a new piece of jewellery for him. Always gold, at times tastefully adorned with small expensive stones, shiny pearls. Thin chains of pearls, necklaces, linking bracelets, suspiciously perfect fitting rings, delicate anklets, even a pair of earrings, once. Edwin silently points to his non-pierced ears, and his lover gently removes, holds up a single dangling earring from the little box. The little ball gently rings much like a cat bell when the Cat King turns it in his palm, shows Edwin the small painless clip-closure that would hold them in place without piercing skin. 

"Why do you insist on giving me jewellery? I can't feasibly wear all of it, especially when conducting my work. Most of it ends up in the office, in a box.” Edwin waits for the Cat King to look up at him, lift his head from Edwin’s chest where it rested comfortably. “It just feels a bit like a waste?” His lover doesn’t reply right away, slitted eyes dropping down, to where his fingers still absently play with the most recent gift, a simple golden band around Edwin’s ring finger. 

"Does it bother you?” Edwin’s head is shaking in reply before he puts any thought to it, and he knows the Cat King felt his chin move through his soft curls, cause his voice sounds more certain, less meek, when he adds “Can you just indulge me, then?” There’s something silent there, again, Edwin feels it coming into reach, he can almost catch it. 

“I suppose, it is nice to have a variety,” Edwin starts, speaking softly to the top of his lover’s hair, “it doesn’t really matter that I can’t wear all of it...” He trails off, he’s organizing his thoughts like he would on a case, slips his hand from his lover’s gentle grip, holds it out for both of them to see the gold on his finger catch the afternoon light streaming through the windows, “As long as I can wear at least something of yours, then, hmm?”  

The Cat King merely grins, no, beams in response. 

[mirrology]

hello!! I simply adored your platonic aventurine fic, so if requests are still open may I ask for a scenario with him and us going shopping together? thank you in advance, have a lovely day 💓

ノ Eudaemonia .ᐟ ʚɞ

୨୧ Eudaemonia: (adjective) The state of being lucky

ft. Aventurine, gender neutral reader, platonic. wc: 540

Content: teen reader, big brother aventurine, they go shopping in a big mall (not specified where though), reader likes taking photos, reader and march 7th are besties, all fluff no angst!! / a day at the mall with your brother!!

Notes: I tried working as fast as I could to get this posted so it might seemed rushed, but I hope you enjoy :D ! Also short.

You snapped a photo of the giant crystal chandelier that's was hanging from the ceiling of the mall. The large crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, its many crystals and gemstones glimmering in the light. It catches the light like prisms, projecting a shimmering rainbow of light around the entire mall.

You nodded to yourself and put your phone in your pocket. "I see you're interested in that chandelier." A voice came from behind you. You twisted your head around to meet with the familiar eyes of your elder brother.

You stood there for a moment after taking the photo, your eyes glued to your phone's screen as you examined the picture you just snapped. Your eyes flicker up and down the screen, taking in every detail of the image captured on your phone. Your face lit up, the photo had captured the regal atmosphere of the chandelier pretty well! You'll have to send this to March, she had always liked things like this anyway.

In his hands were two cups of flavored boba, one for you and one for him. "Uh, duh!" You playfully scoffed as Aventurine held out your drink to you. You took the beverage from his hand. "This is the biggest one I've ever seen!" You looked back up to it, your eyes sparkling in amazement. Aventurine chuckled at your enthusiasm, "I've seen many, and I can agree. This is truly one of a kind. " He leaned on the metal railing of the central part of the mall.

You nodded your head in silent agreement. You latched onto the straw of your drink, savoring the sweet flavor and the boba gracing your tongue. You closed your eyes in content, humming in the process.

"Well, where to now?" You asked your elder brother all while putting your hand on your hip. "Hm.." He thought for a moment, "Why don't you choose?" Aventurine flashed you a closed eyed smile. You lit up in an instant. You knew exactly which store to go to first. You grasped your brothers hand in yours and pulled him along. "Come on! I have the perfect store!"

You brought it to your chest and hugged it. "Going to build-a-bear was the best idea ever!" You exclaimed. Aventurine had gotten one of his own donned in a cute hoodie, deep blue jeans, and some sneakers. An emerald bow sat on its left wrist, matching yours.

You held up the plush in the air, the flourecent lights reflecting on its beady eyes. The teddy bear was dressed as if it's ready to attend a formal event. It's wearing a finely tailored little suit, complete with a bow-tie and polished black leather shoes on its plush feet. The teddy bear looks super fancy despite its adorable and huggable appearance. On its right wrist, a ribbon in shape of a bow of a color that you picked out.

"Thank you so much, Aven!" You grinned at him and rested your head on his shoulder. Aventurine smiled back at you and rested his head on yours. He reached over and wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

"Whatever you want, little one" He rubbed his cheek on your head like a cat.

...

"Hey! You're messing up my hair!'

[fun-k-board]

Ok, so I'm in the wrong, I don't know how I messed that up.

I was asking if you could write, How Black Cat from the Playstation Spider Man games would kiss her lover.

MARVELS SPIDER-MAN - Black Cat kissing her gender neutral S/O

Note(s): Don't worry it's alright! I hope I did her justice (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠) I also hope you like the little story I added at the end.

Felicia will tend to get more affectionate, if that's even possible, when she wants a kiss from you. It takes her a while of teasing to say it outright of course, it's only in her nature to toy with her food until she's dissatisfied with the length of time it's taking to feast.

She loves to hold your hand, wrap an arm around your waist and kiss your neck first, perhaps give a small bite to your collarbone or wrist, refusing to give even a peck to your lips for what feels like hours.

When you're finally at your wits end, begging and pleading for an ounce of attention to your mouth, that's when she gives you what you both desire the most.

Felicia's kisses are normally very gentle, she treats you like how she treats those precious gemstones that she just loves to steal, grabbing you roughly and snatching you up, yet holding you so far above just a simple object because you're not her possession, she's not your owner, you're her lover, her partner, and it shows when she gives you her sweet, long kisses. She never just kisses your lips, as she could never stick to only loving one part of your body.

She starts at your hands, running up your arm, to your shoulder, neck, then your cheek and your ear, whispering into them her filthy yet somehow sweet words. Only then, and only then, she finally gives you that kiss to your lips. Her eyes flutter closed as they brush against yours, her complete and utter adoration for you is clear as day.

Felicia's hands never leave you, grabbing your hips or waist to keep you still, to have her claws so close to digging into your body, yet never fully doing so, never hurting you, never dreaming of causing you pain, only to hold you.

But when she wants them to be, they can be rough, longer lasting, typically only when she's stressed or feeling more passionate. That's when she uses tongue, pushing you against the wall, her hands attacking your body with her dangerously passionate touches, even squeezing your thighs and hips as harsh as you'll allow to make you squirm with pleasure.

You're painfully aware of how flirty Felicia is, every interaction has her hands wander over every inch of your body and her smooth words dripping over you like honey. Because of that, how well you know her, how well she knows you, it doesn't take either of you too long to realise what exactly she wants.

She eyes you from across the room for a moment, as if a hawk studying a lost mouse, slowly, she approaches, black heels clicking on the ground like a warning. Her hand reaches out to lightly brush against your own, her lips begin to curl into a devious smirk, one she always wears when she's up to something. Felicia leans close and whispers into your ear.

"Your lips, they look so appetising." After she sees you shiver in anticipation Felicia's hand gently runs up your arm, leading to your shoulder. For a moment, and only for a moment, she pauses, only to grab your shoulder and yank you closer.

"Can I have a taste?"

[james-sunshine-potter]

Random things about Regulus that James loves:

james' part here

>His lips. (They’re just so soft and kissable).

>His hand writing. (Regulus writes in cursive, where James writes in a weird mix of both. It’s just so curvy and neat).

>How he knows just the most random pieces of information. And how he can just slip them into conversation at will.

>How he becomes more sensitive around him, but just him.

>His intelligence.

>The way he never makes James feel dumb.

>The fact he never has matching socks.

>His cheeks. (James can make Regulus flush super easy).

>His shoulders. (They’re covered in freckles).

>His sense of style.

>His love for super obscure parts of courses. Like in herbology, he loved learning about what plants are used in making wands. Or in potions, he liked learning about really miscellaneous potions.

>How mad he gets when James gets himself injured in some way. (It’s because he cares).

>How deeply and throughly he cares. Even if he doesn’t show it.

>How much he gets into any quidditch game he plays. He will openly support Gryffindor, even if he’s playing against them. (He’ll wear James’ scarf when Gryffindor is playing a team which isn’t his).

>His love for holding his hand.

>His love for cats. He could own twenty cats if he could.

>The way he hugs. Tight and snug. Sometimes Regulus will hug him from behind, wrap his arms around his stomach and rest his head on his shoulder. And if Regulus had his way, he’d hug James and never let ago.

>The fact he’ll doodle ‘r.a.b’ on his hand until his hands and wrists are covered,

>His eyelashes. His eyes in general. A crystal clear sort of grey which makes his eyes almost look like gemstones.

>How he will always listen. He never tells him to shut up because he doesn’t want to listen. Never says he’s too much. Makes him feel like all he is is more than enough.

>How secretly sensitive he is.

>How protective he is over the people he cares about. (James can’t number the amount of arguments which nearly turned onto fully fledged fights).

>How he notices things nobody else does.

>The letters he writes to him.

>The fact he steals his jumpers and thinks James doesn’t notice.

>The way he likes to play and just hold James’ fingers/hands when he’s tired.

[thehollowwriter]

The Official Bio of Clyde Sentry

Basic Info:

Name: Clyde Sentry

Homeland: The Scalding Sands, but they were born in the Queendom of Roses

Species: Human (at least, we think so?)

Birthday: 1st October

Age: 18

Height/length: 162cm

Dominant hand: Left

Gender: non-binary

Sexuality: Asexual, panromantic

Class: 3-A

Dorm: Ignihyde

Best subject: Magic analysis

Club: News club. Not the newspaper club. They comprise relevant news and announce it to the school. Also weather announcements, which they also play music for, for some reason.

Unique Magic: Ceaseless Watcher. They know. What do they know? Whatever they want to. It has many drawbacks, however. It gives them migraines, and it can be difficult for them to see the bigger picture. They don't like knowing other people's thoughts.The information sometimes overloads their brain and makes them pass out. They cannot see into the future, however.

Family:

Unnamed grandmother

Unnamed mother and father (deceased)

Preferences:

Favourite subject: Music

Hobbies: Investigating things, reading, bowling

Likes: Cats, horror, knowledge, stories,

Dislikes: Spiders (they know things), worms, eye symbols, tight spaces

Favourite food: chicken pasta

Least favourite food: mashed potato

Appearance:

Clyde is neither tall nor short. They're neither thin nor fat. They have hair. Yes, they do. It is long, pink, and sage green. They also have eyes. They are dark pink in colour, like dark gemstones. They have dark skin and pearly white teeth. They also wear glasses.

Personality:

Clyde is an interesting fella. They manage to simultaneously be a shut-in and an extrovert. They're friendly and fairly kind, but they can be cryptic and apathetic at times. They're one of those people who are genuinely nice but have little to no morals. They show very little concern when violence or terrible incidents occur around them.

They're absent-minded and easily distracted. They are very inquisitive and will constantly asks question after question even if it is not wanted. They always look less pale (for their skintone) than before once they've needled stories out of various people.

They will occasionally get suspicious of someone for some random thing and investigate them by following them around. They like investigating in general. When they don't use they're UM they're either extremely horribly wrong or 100% right with no in-between.

They often spout what, to others, sounds like nonsense. They also like to narrate what they are doing sometimes and always walk around with a tape recorder.

They are kind of paranoid and have many conspiracy theories, but nobody can tell if it's satirical or not. ("We're nothing but the playthings of a higher being, going through the motions with nothing but idle movements and stories designed for us." "...Is that a no on the tea?")

When they have a bad day or in a bad mood, they can be found huddled somewhere or staring into the distance, muttering into their tape recorder. (If you really want an example: "The thing that is but is not, what is a face is not a face what is a face, what is a smile is hollow plastic, cotton hair and taxidermied skin.")

Some Fun Facts/Extra Info

•Clyde is twisted from both Jonothan Sims from The Magnus Archives and Cecil Palmer from Welcome to Night Vale. They are excellent podcasts, and I recommend them, especially TMA :)

•Has their own podcast, though nobody knows where their recording booth is or when they started the podcast

•They have a deep, velvety voice that can sound creepy at times

•They have a TERRIBLE fashion sense. Fuzzy pants with a waist coat and sandals, anyone? Occasionally, they manage to look like a librarian, but...

•They're basically living Azul's wet dream with all the blackmail they want at their fingertips but they do nothing with it, apart from the occasional podcast livestream where he starts narrating what a random student is doing and freaks the shit out of them

•They are not made for violence pls don't hurt them 🥺

•They can often be found lurking in the library, reorganising the books

•Some students think they should be at RSA, others think they would make those soft boys burst into tears

•They always stare at Grim when he's in their line of sight

•They never run out of stories to tell

•They almost never stop smiling

•They once made an announcement about the school's third overblot and recommended you stay cautious, as the organisation they cannot name will come collect those poor poor students. Nobody believed them.

Art by @/the-trinket-witch

...........................................

A/N: I hope you like the skrunkle! I hope they capture the essence of The Magnus Archives and Welcome to Night Vale well enough (especially WTNV)

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @inotonline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch

@ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts @the-banana-0verlord @cloudcountry

@skriblee-ksk @quartztwst @twstinginthewind

@natsukishinomiyaswife

[catseyegemstone]

What to do when Ketu gives bad effect in your horoscope

[theharrowing]

Collateral 🗡️ POV: Jimin

Jimin learns that his boyfriend played a role in his recent attack and he decides to get revenge. 

Or, the one where Jimin attempts to kill a man, but needs to call for help, and 2seok arrive to take care of more than just a dead body.

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

❗ THIS IS A CHARACTER POV CHAPTER!!!

if you do not wish to perceive any POV that is not the main character, please feel free to skip this one!

🗡️Jimin x his ex, Jimin x Seokjin x Hoseok

🗡️ word count: 9.7k

🗡️ mafia au, complicated relationships, graphic violence, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit, 21+

🗡️ warnings: power bottom Jimin with ex; bottom/sub Jimin & top/dom Seokjin with allusions to top/dom Hoseok. drugging someone using cocaine laced with pharmaceuticals with the intention of killing them; use of anal plug; anal sex; restraining someone against their will; sex pivots from consensual to dubious; cocaine use; murder; being cradled in the bosom of one friend while the other suffocates his dying boyfriend with a pillow; bdsm dynamics; wearing a collar; sounding - use of sounding rod; safewords; subspace; allusions to blowjob & anal fingering with the promise of sex.

🗡️ notes: mc is referred to in 3rd person (she/her) pronouns for this chapter! i don't have Jimin's relationship tagged in the overall fic because this is the first and last time we know him by name and it feels insignificant. this chapter is a bit brutal at times. heed the warnings.

🗡️ early draft beta read by @blog-name-idk - but it has undergone some pretty big non-beta’d edits

🗡️ posted feb. 2024 - originally nov. 2022 | read on ao3

Jimin stares at his reflection in the vanity mirror. He has recently colored his hair a nice medium brown, and his gaze traces the waves that perfectly rest over his forehead, marveling at a job well done. 

Beauty is a weapon that Jimin hones and uses expertly, and this new look of his is simply an act of sharpening his blade.

R&B music plays constantly through speakers placed in every corner of the room, setting the mood while Jimin slowly and delicately applies a dusting of pink eyeshadow, highlighting with white below the brows, and finishing with soft black lines along his lids that peak in a faint cat eye at the ends. Then he applies mascara and dots gemstones along his brows and beneath his eyes.

His right eye is still bruised with deep blues and purples surrounding the socket, but the swelling has gone down, and Jimin rather likes how dramatic it looks dusted in shimmery pink. 

To complete the look, Jimin applies a light pink gloss to his lips, then gently blots on a deep red eyeshadow just to the scabbed-over slit on the right side that has been healing nicely. The injury stands out, and one would never know a touch of powder has been added to accentuate it. 

"Perfect," Jimin says with a grin as he sits back in his chair in only his briefs and takes in his reflection. 

Jimin promised Yoongi he would lay low because it was the only way he figured he would have the freedom to return as quickly as possible and enact his revenge without the others worrying too much about him. The moment he left the mansion, he drove straight to his suite at Paradise. He feels guilty for lying, but lying is one of the few privileges Jimin has always had, and at times it comes as second nature to him.

Taehyung had let it slip that Jimin's soon-to-be ex-boyfriend is associated with the man who attacked him. While the family men were beating information out of the man, he name-dropped Jiyong and mentioned he is one of Ryujin's men who had been sent to spy on the family. 

Jimin hates that he was not a bit surprised to hear the rumor. He had been having suspicions for several weeks that Jiyong may have been up to something, and he has recently been keeping him at arm's length and not inviting him to any of the mansions. Since keeping Jiyong away from the property, his attitude has begun to take a turn, and he has been unpredictable and moody, which Jimin now attributes to him being unable to complete his mission. 

So, naturally, Jimin has decided the only thing left to do is corner the man, apply a little pressure, and force him to speak, all while slowly killing him. And what better place to do so than in the comfort of his suite at Paradise, where no one will dare interfere with his actions? 

His usual guard, who is already stationed outside his room, has been informed to ignore any screaming he may hear—aside from a safeword that Jimin has chosen, of course. The room is bugged for his safety, and Jimin tries not to imagine all the things his trusty guard has heard over the years. After all, that is how he was saved from the beating that could have ended up being a lot worse.

Jimin steps back from the vanity and gives himself one more glance before sliding down from his tall makeup chair and walking to his closet. The room is nearly the size of his suite, with rows of clothing, costumes, bondage gear, jewelry, footwear, and other accessories. He walks to the first rack, which is lined with robes and lingerie, and he grabs a mesh black knee-length, long-sleeve robe with feathers lining the hems. 

Beneath the robe, all Jimin wears is tight pink briefs, and he ties the black cord around his waist loose enough to allow plenty of skin to stay exposed, showcasing several semi-faded bruises on his chest and neck. Jimin considers painting over those with a little makeup as well, but a light knock on his suite door indicates that his time to prepare has come to an end. 

"One moment, jagi!" Jimin calls from the closet. 

He smooths his hands down the soft mesh of his garment and pulls his lips into a sweet, practiced smile. All the world is a stage, and Jimin is ready to put on a final performance for Jiyong. 

With one last glance around the suite, Jimin confirms that everything is in place, and he turns off the closet light and walks to the door. The room is simple, with a large bed in the corner and shelves of sex toys between the bed and the closet door. There is a tiny kitchenette between the closet and the en suite bathroom, where Jimin can prepare something small to eat, but he only uses the space to store alcohol and the occasional snack. 

There used to be a small dining table and chairs, but after the attack, Jimin had all superfluous furniture removed, leaving only the bed, makeup chair, and vanity. He had come too close to getting the back of his head bashed into the corner of the hardwood of the table, and he does not want to take the chance again. 

The lighting is dim, with pink and purple lights giving the room a bit of a romantic glow. On the bed are black satin sheets with wrist restraints tucked just below the pillows for bondage play. 

Jimin loves being restrained and made helpless during sex. There is something he finds so addicting about handing over all control and being used as his partner pleases. Of course, bondage play is reserved only for people who Jimin trusts. Even so, the restraints he ordinarily uses have a safety mechanism to allow him to break out of them easily, should he need to. 

The restraints currently nestled under Jimin's pillow have no such mechanism. 

When Jimin opens the door wide and takes in the sight before him, his smile nearly falters. Jiyong's hair is black, short, and messy—framing his handsome face nicely—like he rolled out of bed moments before arriving. He wears a simple white tee tucked into blue jeans, and Jimin wonders how it would look with bright, deep crimson red spreading over the thin, white fabric. 

"Hey, baby boy," Jiyong says as he eyes Jimin's attire with a smirk. "When you said you wanted to speak in private I didn't realize you meant you wanted to fuck. I would have put a little more effort into my appearance."

Jimin takes a step forward and rubs his hands over Jiyong's chest. He can feel his heart beating gently behind his ribs, and he tilts his head slightly down to capture Jiyong's lips in a chaste but sweet kiss. 

"I had plans to just talk," Jimin mutters against Jiyong's lips. "But then I thought about how long it's been since we've had some time for just ourselves and I couldn't resist changing into something more enticing."

"Enticing?" Jiyong responds with a grin. "You're absolutely breathtaking, baby." 

Jimin doesn't miss the way Jiyong's gaze lingers on his bruised eye and split lip as he grips onto his shirt and backs into the suite. He glances over Jiyong's head, making eye contact with the guard who stands with his arms crossed in the hall, just opposite his door. The guard nods once, and Jimin tugs Jiyong over the threshold and closes the door, which locks behind them. 

"Let me fix us a drink, okay?" Jimin suggests, and Jiyong nods as he eagerly reaches for the black cord around Jimin's waist that holds his robe closed. Jimin swats at his hands and giggles as he backs away. 

"Have a seat," Jimin says as he nods to the bed.

Jiyong does as instructed and sits on the edge of the bed. He rubs his hands over the dark sheets and keeps his eyes fixed on Jimin, who saunters over to the kitchenette while keeping his attention partially on Jiyong as best as he can. 

Jimin pulls two short, round glasses from a small drying rack on the counter and grabs a decanter of whiskey that Yoongi gifted him, pulling the intricately designed triangle crystal top off with an inviting pop as the rubber stopper comes loose from the opening. He pours them both a finger of whiskey and puts the decanter top back on, pushing it nice and firm to create an air-tight seal. 

"Whoa," Jiyong calls from the bed, "using the special occasion whiskey?"

Jimin hums and turns to Jiyong with a smile. "That's right. Jeonggukie also gave me some new product that I would like you to try. I had a sniff shortly before you got here, and I feel incredible."

"Damn, starting without me?" Jiyong chides. 

On a small mirror, Jimin has racked up a nice thick line of cocaine, triazolam, and codeine. He brings it over to the bed with an already rolled-up note and hands it to Jiyong, then turns back to the kitchenette for the glasses of whiskey. Jiyong wastes no time snorting the concoction. 

First, there's a hiss, then a gasp. Jimin turns to Jiyong with wide, worried eyes, and much to his pleasure, he watches as his darling boyfriend struggles to hold his composure. Snorting the medications could not have felt good, Jimin thinks to himself. Probably it burns his cocaine-raw skin like crazy.

"Everything alright?" Jimin asks sweetly.

"Fuck's in this?"

Jimin chuckles, adding a lilt of playfulness at the end. "Cocaine, silly."

Jiyong taps on his nostril with the knuckle of his bent index finger and sniffs several times. "Smells off. You said this was new?"

"Just came in last night."

"And you had some?"

Jimin hums and hands Jiyong his whiskey. "I did," he lies with a soft smile.

The line Jimin racked up was pretty thick, even for an avid user such as Jiyong, and he smiles as he grabs the empty mirror from the bed and sets it onto a nearby nightstand. It is astounding, really, how someone who snorts so much cocaine does not immediately find something off about the powder and refuse to snort it. 

None of the family men would have been that stupid. But, then again, none of them do drugs outside of what Jeongguk supplies.  

Jiyong swirls his whiskey and gives it a smell, then sips it slowly, and Jimin holds back laughter at his newfound paranoia. Originally, he had planned on mixing the pills in his whiskey, but after some trial runs, the powder of the crushed-up medication was always detectable, either visually or by taste. 

"Alright," Jiyong says as he adjusts his posture, sitting up and rolling his shoulders. He winces as he sniffles loudly. "What's the special occasion?"

Jimin holds his drink out toward Jiyong, which Jiyong taps his glass gently against, and as Jimin shoots back the bittersweet liquid, Jiyong follows suit and does the same. 

"Get on the bed, jagi," Jimin says. "I want to give you my good news with your cock buried deep in my ass."

Jiyong coughs, seemingly shocked by Jimin's words, and Jimin laughs as he leans to give him a weak pat on the back. As Jiyong bends forward and attempts to catch his breath, Jimin peels the empty glass from his fingers and sets both glasses beside the mirror on the nightstand. Also on the small, black table is his silver vial of unlaced cocaine.

Perhaps it is selfish, Jimin thinks, but despite his overwhelming desire to dig his claws into Jiyong and kill him with his own two hands, he wants to fuck him one last time. He even went through the trouble of prepping himself, just in case the pills kick in too quickly.

Jiyong stands from the bed and stumbles forward a step before correcting himself, and Jimin watches as panic flashes over his face while he begins to undress. He leaves his clothing in a heap beside the bed and sits naked on the mattress, cock half-hard and looking heavy between his legs. 

"Lay down, jagi," Jimin instructs, and Jiyong smirks as he scoots back on the black silk, then rotates himself to lay with his head on the center pillow. 

Jimin bites his lip and swishes his hips to the soft R&B that plays overhead as he rubs his hands down over his pecs and tummy, then back up, feeling the soft black fabric of his mesh robe. Jiyong watches intently, following the movement of Jimin's hands, and Jimin approaches and bends slightly at the hips as he sticks his hands under the robe to gather the hem of his briefs and pull them down. 

"Gonna keep the robe on?" Jiyong asks with a grin.

Jimin nods, feeling rather femme fatale, and saunters over to the bed, wasting no time to climb on top and straddle his boyfriend's hips one last time. 

"I prepped myself," he says sweetly, giggling as Jiyong's eyes go wide, and he reaches behind Jimin to feel for himself. 

A small burst of pleasure shivers through Jimin when Jiyong's fingers touch the end of the metal anal plug, and he lets out an exaggerated moan and throws his head back. Jiyong tugs on the toy a few times, then slowly begins to pull it out, sparking Jimin to let out a genuine moan as he falls forward into Jiyong's chest. 

"So eager you prepped yourself," Jiyong teases as he tosses the plug aside and presses two long fingers into Jimin's stretched-out hole, forcing a sob to fall from between his lips. 

"Need you now," Jimin moans, rolling his hips and fucking himself onto Jiyong's fingers. 

Jiyong reaches beneath Jimin with his other hand and grabs his cock. He presses against Jimin's hole, in which his fingers are still buried, and Jimin trembles and slaps Jiyong on the chest. 

"One or the other," he complains, feeling horny and impatient. 

Jiyong pulls his fingers out and gives Jimin's ass a light slap, groaning, "Alright, alright." 

As soon as Jiyong presses his cock head into Jimin's ass, Jimin takes over and sits up, rocking his hips gently despite the overwhelming stretch. Jiyong slides his hands over Jimin's ass, grips him with intention, but then drops his arms to his sides. A light sigh leaves Jiyong, and Jimin opens his eyes to find him staring at the ceiling, looking spaced out. 

"What's the matter, Ji?" Jimin purrs as he picks up his pace, rolling his hips up and crashing them down.

Grunts and groans come from Jiyong, and he blinks several times. Finally, he mutters, "What was in that cocaine?"

Jimin slows his hips to a languid pace and grabs both of Jiyong's hands. He pulls both hands above his head and leans forward, leaving a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. 

"What do you mean?" Jimin asks sheepishly.

"I feel...fuck. Tired."

Jimin hums, reaches above Jiyong's hand to tug on a thick black strap that runs from the bed frame, to just under his pillow, and pulls out a black leather wrist cuff. Jiyong does not enjoy being restrained, so Jimin works fast to secure the cuff, which locks in place with a velcro strap that wraps around the entire wrist. 

"What—" Jiyong yanks at his restraint and attempts to claw at the velcro with his other hand. "Jimin, this isn't funny."

Jimin, who continues to slowly fuck himself on Jiyong's cock, fishes out the second restraint and wrestles it onto his wrist. Jiyong grunts in a feeble attempt to beg Jimin to free him, but he doesn't seem to have a lot of strength left in him, and the words die on his tongue. Jimin giggles as he tightens the velcro, then he sits back up and bounces his hips high, slamming them down hard, hoping to cum fast before he loses him completely. 

"Triazolam and codeine," Jimin moans as he throws his head back.

"Wh—"

"The cocaine," Jimin groans as he makes eye contact with a very heavy-lidded Jiyong. "I laced it with triazolam and codeine."

Jiyong rocks his hips as if in a panic, possibly attempting to shake Jimin off, but it does him no good. Jimin is close anyway, and he snakes one hand into his robe to squeeze at his leaking cock head, hissing from the burst of pleasure that the contact brings. 

"Don't you want to make me cum, baby?" Jimin asks, moaning through each word as his high increases.

Jiyong stammers, "Of c-course."

"It's a shame I'll never cum on this cock again," Jimin whines as he rubs the dribbled streak of precum down his shaft. 

"Jimin," Jiyong mutters, "what are you doing?"

Jimin feels so close. He picks up his pace, squeezes his eyes shut, and sobs out as his orgasm rocks through him. He catches all of his release in his hand and leans his weight on his other hand, which presses into Jiyong's chest. 

Despite bringing himself quickly to orgasm, everything feels lackluster, and Jimin sighs as he lifts his hips and drops Jiyong's still-hard cock out of him.

Originally, he wanted to blacken Jiyong's eye and split his lip as the other man had done to him, but now that Jimin comes down from his high, he just feels disappointed. He feels sad. 

"Was this relationship a sham from the start or did Shin recently buy you?"

Horror widens Jiyong's heavy eyes. "Ji-Jimin, p-please."

"Answer me!" Jimin shrieks, balling his fist as his cum runs down his wrist. 

"I'm sorry, Jimin," Jiyong mutters. "Please f-forgive me."

"Forgive you for what, exactly?"

Jimin dismounts Jiyong and gets off the bed. He picks up his pink briefs and wipes his hand off with it, then grabs his silver vial of cocaine from the nightstand, unscrews the top, and brings the attached tiny metal spoon to his nose. 

"I w-was just supposed to sp-spy on the family," Jiyong mutters pathetically.

Jimin sniffs back the drug, dips the spoon in once more, and sniffs a second small pile into the other nostril. Then he screws the top back onto the vial and holds it tight in his fist as Jiyong continues.

"I wasn't...su-supposed to f-fall in love."

Anger and bile rise up Jimin's throat, and he turns to Jiyong with a frown. "Don't you fucking dare!"

"I d-do love you," Jiyong whines, and Jimin's fist trembles. He wants to punch Jiyong until his face is unrecognizable. But he doesn't want to fuck up his hands; Jimin needs his hands. 

"You love me? Which is why you sent someone to beat me up? Weird fucking way to show your love, Ji!"

Jiyong squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. A tear falls down the side of his face, the sight of which just adds to Jimin's fury.

"I didn't k-know—he wasn't supposed to do th..." Jiyong trails off, face falling to the side.

Jimin approaches and slaps Jiyong several times on the cheek. Jiyong startles and opens his eyes wide and pleadingly. 

"Baby," Jiyong whines.

"If you confess to me what happened I will unrestrain you, force you to vomit the pills, and we can part ways and call this done," Jimin lies. "Otherwise, you are going to die."

Jiyong's eyes open wide, and he swallows hard. "I was Sh-Shin's man from the start. But I stopped giving her inf-information. That's why she sent that guy, who—who—. He was supposed to rough up me. Not you. I'm sor-sorry."

"Ryujin sent you to spy on us, and then you got too close and betrayed her? So she sent a man to set you straight and he attacked me instead? Is that what happened?"

Jiyong nods frantically, eyes threatening to roll to the back of his head. "P-please, you can't leave me here to die. Someone will f-find out."

"People overdose in these rooms every week, jagi. Nobody will ask questions when Yoongi's men are the ones handing your body over to the morgue."

A weak, garbled sob comes from Jiyong, who attempts to scratch at his restraints. He kicks his feet out, but it is clear that his limbs are too heavy to move very well, and he gives up, curling on himself as best as he can as he cries. 

And Jimin, who thought he had everything under control, sobs before he can stop himself. In the six months that he and Jiyong have been spending time together, he has managed to catch feelings. 

They were compatible. They fit together nicely. And it was all a lie, doomed from the start because he was sent by the enemy and chose to keep that a secret even as they got close. 

The worst part is that if Jiyong had been honest with him about betraying Ryujin, they could have tried to make it work. It would have been an uphill battle, but he would have done his best to trust him.

Jimin turns away from the bed in time for tears to fall in heavy streams down his face. He can't do this. He can't follow through with the murder. He needs help. 

On the vanity counter sits Jimin's phone, and he walks over and picks it up in shaky hands, dialing Yoongi's number. Yoongi answers after one ring.

"Hello?"

"Hyung," Jimin sobs, voice squeaking. "Please don't be mad at me."

"Jiminah," Yoongi responds firmly. "I could never be mad at you. Tell me what is happening. What do you need?"

"I c-came to Paradise," Jimin hiccups. "I brought Jiyong and I drugged him but I can't finish him. I need help, hyung."

Yoongi chuckles. It is soft and bright, and it takes Jimin by surprise. He can't help but smile slightly from the sound.

"Jiminah, what did I tell you about trying to do everything by yourself?"

"I know," Jimin whines, feeling pathetic. "I'm sorry."

"Seokjin and Hoseok are at House of Cards. I can send them over now, or I can come to you in the next thirty or so minutes."

"S-Seokjin-hyung is fine."

"Don't cry, okay, Jiminie? Your hyungs will take care of it."

"Th-thank you, hyung."

The line goes dead, and Jimin lowers his phone from his ear. There was a part of him that feared Yoongi would be disappointed in him for going against his wishes of laying low. But he should know by now that Yoongi could never be disappointed in him. He has said as much many times, and he has never shown signs of faltering. 

Jimin takes a fortifying breath and holds it in his lungs before breathing it out slowly. His phone vibrates in his hand, and he lifts it to find a notification from Seokjin that says, "Be there in 5." 

Hyungs will take care of everything, Jimin reminds himself. They always do. 

The room is still and silent, and Jimin glances at the man on his bed—naked and breathing deeply, fast asleep. Jimin wasn't sure how much it would take to force an overdose, and his original plan was to smother him in the event that the pills were not enough. But now that he faces the need to finish the task, his arms feel shaky and weak. 

Jimin is not a killer. He may be family to a pack of ruthless men, but Jimin cannot bring himself to kill someone. 

With one more deep exhale, Jimin returns to his closet and grabs the clothes he came dressed in—a black long-sleeve velvet button-up and lace-front leather pants. 

The intention was to go to the club and find someone to fuck away his frustration with, but now as he slides on the thick leather pants, he does not feel like doing much of anything. He even considers finding something else to wear since it will be Seokjin and Hoseok taking him home, but he doesn't have the strength to choose a new outfit. Maybe his hyungs will consider his outfit amusing. 

Jimin manages to loosely tuck his shirt into the front of his pants before there are three firm knocks on the door. Seokjin always knocks thrice. Jimin smiles weakly to himself and shuts off the light in his closet, then makes his way to the door, keeping his eyes off Jiyong. 

When Jimin swings the door open, Seokjin immediately lifts his hands to Jimin's chin and bends to place a soft kiss on his bottom lip. Jimin gasps and immediately relaxes into the touch, and Seokjin places a second peck on his nose before standing straight and peering over his head. It has been years since Seokjin kissed him, and Jimin stands in a bit of a daze.

"I have always wondered what his cock looks like," Seokjin muses.

Jimin backhands him on the chest with a chuckle, coming back to earth as he shouts, "Hyung!"

"Tell us what you need," Hoseok says softly as his head appears from the side of Seokjin's broad shoulder. 

Jimin takes a step back and allows both men into the room, and as Seokjin walks past Jimin toward the bed, Hoseok closes the door softly and approaches Jimin, gently taking his chin in his hands just as Seokjin had. 

"Baby, your new hair color is stunning," Hoseok says sweetly, eyes sparkling. "You look so much younger."

Jimin sniffles and smiles, feeling tear streaks staining his cheeks. "I look younger because I've cried my makeup off like a child."

Hoseok chuckles and pulls Jimin into a firm hug, engulfing his head and shoulder with his arms. He smells like a freshly picked bouquet, and Jimin wraps his arms around Hoseok, sinking into the feeling; Hoseok has never hugged Jimin like this before. 

Then, Jimin hears it: a muffled voice groaning and struggling from behind him. Hoseok holds Jimin even closer.

"It'll be over in a second, baby, don't worry," Hoseok mutters against Jimin's head, and Jimin nods feebly and lets out a deep breath that he had been holding.

For years, Seokjin and Hoseok have called Jimin baby, and for years, Jimin thought it was condescending at best. But like this, tightly wound in Hoseok's arms, the name brings him comfort. Perhaps, he thinks, he had it all wrong. 

"Did he manage to confess?" Seokjin asks, and Hoseok slowly lowers his arms from around Jimin. 

Jimin is not sure what he expects to see when he turns around, but he is thankful to find that Seokjin has completely covered Jiyong with the black silk sheet. Seokjin glances around the room and begins to collect Jimin's things, grabbing his vial of cocaine and his cell phone and shoving them into his pockets.

"He said Ryujin sent him to spy on us and that he ended up fall—" Jimin stops himself, then sighs and nibbles on the inside of his lip. "When we started dating he began to lose sight of the mission. Apparently, the guy who roughed me up was actually sent here for him. Or so he claimed. I don't know. I don't fucking care anymore."

Hoseok wraps his arms around Jimin's shoulders, pulling him into a tight back-hug while Seokjin washes the whiskey glasses and mirror that had been left on the nightstand. 

"Oh, baby, you clearly do care," Hoseok says as he rests his head against Jimin's shoulder and nuzzles his nose below his ear. "And that's okay. We can help you forget."

"Forget, how?" Jimin asks, watching as Seokjin tidies up the makeup that was left on the vanity, then gathers the clothing that had been piled on the floor. 

Seokjin turns to Jimin and quickly raises his eyebrows a few times. "Any way you'd like, pretty bird. What's your poison, these days?"

What Jimin really wants is to be tied up and fucked senseless until he forgets the way Jiyong's cock felt inside him—until he forgets his own name. But he doesn't know how to ask for that, even if it happens to be something that he assumes is on the table. 

Luckily, Jimin doesn't have to ask because these two can read him like a book. Reading people is one of their many shared gifts.

"Let's get you home and take good care of you, hmm?" Hoseok suggests.

Seokjin smiles and sends him a wink. It all seems innocuous enough, but Jimin can hear it in their voices—can see it in their eyes.

Jimin nods and lets himself smile. "Okay."

On their way out of the club, Jeongguk and Taehyung show up to take care of Jiyong's body. They say Yoongi sent them, and they both give Jimin a warm hug, which is a strange thing to receive from either of them, much less both.

The ride to Seokjin and Hoseok's house is short; Jimin disassociates from the moment they get into the car, with only the sound of the large metal gate at the end of the drive pulling him from his daze. A sedan sits parked in front of the garage, so Hoseok pulls up behind it and gets out. Before Jimin can reach for the handle, his door is pulled wide open, and Yoongi stands before him with his arms outstretched.

"Hyung," Jimin mutters. He pauses before exiting, then steps out of the vehicle and into Yoongi's embrace.

"I'm so sorry for all you have been put through, Jiminah," Yoongi says against the side of Jimin's head. 

Jimin sighs and wraps his arms around Yoongi. Although he is grateful for so much care, he feels embarrassed by all the attention. The youngest two hugging him earlier was the final straw. 

"It's fine," Jimin grumbles.

Yoongi backs from the hug but takes Jimin firmly by the shoulders with both hands. "It is not fine," he says, looking Jimin sternly in the eye. "I know you had feelings for him. And I know you are a softie who hates to kill. But you are not alone. Please do not ever feel like you have to do anything alone."

"I was afraid to ask because you wanted me to lay low, and I went against your word," Jimin confesses. 

"Jiminah," Yoongi whines, knitting his eyebrow in frustration. "You know that no matter what, I will never be upset with you. I told you to lay low for your protection, but you are not a child. I trust you to do what you think needs to be done. Just please do not do everything by yourself. We are a family for a reason, and I am here for you, no matter what."

Jimin wiggles out of Yoongi's grasp and mutters, "Yes, hyung," as he attempts to follow Seokjin and Hoseok into their house, but Yoongi stops Jimin, grabbing his hand and giving him a gentle tug.

"One more thing," Yoongi mutters as Jimin turns to face him. Yoongi looks tired, like he hasn't slept since the last time Jimin saw him, and he wears a black tee with no button-up, which is concerning. Even in his own home, it is rare to find Yoongi dressed down in the middle of the day. 

"What is it, boss?" 

Yoongi sighs and nibbles on the inside of his mouth, crossing his arms over his chest. "Our darling knows you were the queen."

Anxiety drops to the pit of Jimin's stomach. "How—"

"She had a dream about the night she killed Seungri, and it was hard to hold back the fact that we knew all about the incident. She wanted to know how much we knew, so Namjoon and I took her to dinner and did our best to explain the events that led to that night. It...did not go very well."

"Oh."

"I do not think she is angry with you, but it is hard to say. But just be mindful of that, next time you see her. Maybe you two should have a conversation. I did not tell her much about your involvement; after a certain point she no longer wanted to listen."

Jimin swallows a lump and nods. Every inch of him tingles with anxiety, and he hates the idea of having to look her in the eye, knowing that she knows. He had planned to tell her eventually, but he was banking on not having to for a while longer—at least, not until he got to know her a little better. Curse Yoongi and his moments of kindness.

"Understood," Jimin mutters sullenly. 

Yoongi wraps his arms around Jimin once more and gives him a kiss on the cheek, which causes Jimin to grimace and attempt to wiggle away. 

"Everyone is so loving today," Jimin whines.

With a chuckle, Yoongi drops his arms from around Jimin. "The youngest two act like grumpy old men, so I have always kind of viewed you as our baby."

"Great," Jimin mutters as he rolls his eyes, though the thought of being the baby of the group does delight him quite a bit. Of course, he can never let them know that. "I'll lay low for real, this time. If dove needs space, then I can wait but if it seems like she wants to talk, let me know, and I can come right over."

Yoongi nods, flashes half a smile, and turns toward the path that connects his mansion with Seokjin's. With a final, fortifying breath, Jimin faces the house to find Seokjin standing in the doorway. His arms are crossed over his chest, but his body language is otherwise relaxed and patient—head leaning to the side against the door frame with one ankle crossed over the other. It feels oddly domestic to approach the man waiting for him in such a fashion, and Jimin hesitates before he takes a step forward. 

When they were younger, back when Seokjin joined the group and was getting trained to be a family man, Jimin was the only one not sleeping with anyone within the group, to his estimation. Taehyung and Jeongguk never came out and said anything at the time, but there was an abrupt shift in their demeanors one day—a playfulness that Jeongguk rarely displayed with anyone else—that led Jimin to believe that something had been going on. 

Seokjin quickly broke down Jimin's walls and his inclination toward avoiding platonic sex, and they spent a good two months exploring new depths of pleasure and pain, and waking up in each other's arms. And then Hoseok joined the team, and slowly, Seokjin began to replace his time with Jimin with his time with Hoseok. 

At first, Jimin felt salty about it, but as he got to know Hoseok, he understood their bond. Not only do they come from affluent families, but they are both sadistic little freaks with a bloodlust, and a penchant for manipulation. Perfect for one another.

Over the years, there has been an open invitation for Jimin to join them in bed. And over the years, Jimin has nearly caved many times. But fucking one's friends is oftentimes messy, and Jimin has always worried about being the cause of some rift between bonds of irreplaceable men, potentially making Yoongi's life more difficult. 

Not to mention, being his own top whore at Paradise has afforded him the ability to use others as a means to sexual needs and escape. So he has stayed out of their relationship.

But there has always been an inkling at the back of Jimin's mind—not only to see how Seokjin has changed over the years, but to discover what Hoseok is into, as well. Jimin has done well to keep his distance and stave off his curiosity, but today he is feeling rather vulnerable. Today he wants to experience subspace—something only Seokjin has ever helped him to accomplish.

As Jimin approaches the house and walks up the three concrete steps to the landing, Seokjin straightens his posture and holds out his arm. 

"Hoseokie is fixing up a quick stew. Would you like me to draw you a bath, or would you like to stay as you are?"

Jimin considers it. A bath does sound nice, but he would rather not be alone with his thoughts right now. "I'll stay as I am."

"Wonderful," Seokjin responds as he lets his door fall closed behind them and secures two deadbolts. The smell of something hearty and rich hits Jimin's nose, making him suddenly aware of how hungry he is. Jimin toes out of his shoes and kicks them near the neatly stacked rows of shoes and boots, and Seokjin does the same with a giggle—as if he knows Hoseok will be displeased with his carelessness, and he finds it delightful.

Jimin leans into Seokjin's hold as they make their way through the living room to the kitchen. Most of the houses on the compound are the same. Open concept foyer, living room, and kitchen with spare rooms on the first level and stairs that lead up to bedrooms and bathrooms on both floors. Each house has more rooms than its occupant—or occupants—have a need for, so many of the homes have guest rooms, offices, gyms, libraries, and so on. 

Seokjin and Hoseok have tailored several guest rooms to be sexual fantasy havens, decorated a certain way, and stocked with outfits and toys to suit that particular brand of fantasy. Hoseok is rather proud of his dollhouse room and has shown off pictures of pink walls and lavish furniture that appear as if the room had come straight out of a barbie dream house. Seokjin, on the other hand, brags most about his puppy playhouse, stocked full of harnesses and leashes, with various cages throughout.

It occurs to Jimin, as he is led to the kitchen, that he has not been back to this house since Hoseok moved in and began to decorate. There is a certain quality to the furnishings that gives the home a baroque feel—intricately hand-carved wood, gold leaf accents, and velvet upholstery. Count Dracula himself could have assisted with the interior design. Jimin smiles as he cranes his neck to see the various paintings and sconces on high, wainscotted walls.

In the dining area is a wooden table—as intricately hand-carved as everything else they own—that seats eight beside a wall of glass which overlooks a surprisingly minimalist garden. In the distance, Taehyung's mansion can be seen sticking out from a wall of tall shrubs and columnar trees. Just past the dining area, Hoseok is busy in a surprisingly modernly furnished kitchen with black marble counters and black steel appliances, dancing to a tune he hums while stirring a pot. 

"Have a seat!" Hoseok calls over his shoulder, and Seokjin guides Jimin to the chair at the head of the table, muttering, "Guest of honor." 

Jimin rounds the table and sits, then places his hands on the top of the hardwood and stares down at the mauve ceramic bowl and matte bronze utensils. He feels anxious and does his best to breathe deeply—in through his nose, pushing his belly out while keeping his shoulders down, and out through his mouth—to keep the swirl of panic that fights inside him at bay. Meanwhile, Seokjin is in the kitchen, presumably helping Hoseok while Jimin waits.

"Wine or soju, baby?" Hoseok asks.

"Or whiskey?" Seokjin suggests. 

Jimin turns his head, glancing from the corner of his eye to find Seokjin leaning against the marble counter with his black sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His dark hair is pushed off his forehead today, and he looks absolutely stunning—but, then again, Seokjin always looks stunning.

"Soju is fine," Jimin responds with a soft smile, and watches as Seokjin straightens his posture and makes his way to the fridge. Then, Hoseok spins with a large, steaming pot in mauve oven-mitt-covered hands, and Jimin's eyes follow as he rounds their large marble island and brings the pot to the table. 

Hoseok's wavy dark hair falls over his forehead, and after the pot is plopped onto a cloth pad in front of Jimin, Hoseok turns to him and winks, then straightens and makes his way back into the kitchen. Jimin stares ahead at the wafting steam as Seokjin and Hoseok come back and forth, bringing soju and side dishes before settling down.

"You happened to need comfort on a day that I was already planning to make short rib stew," Hoseok says cheerily. "I had everything prepped and simmering since this morning."

Seokjin serves Jimin a bowl while Hoseok fills everyone's glasses, and they dig in. The stew is hearty and does not pack too much spice or overwhelming flavor, which is exactly what Jimin's anxious stomach needs, and he feels grateful for his family men. 

Dinner comes and goes in a bit of a daze. The food is delicious, but Jimin's appetite is not what it normally is, so he slurps and chews slowly while Seokjin and Hoseok hold conversation around him. It is nice, Jimin thinks, to be present without having to contribute much. He is not sure he is really in the mood to talk, but he enjoys hearing the back and forth of his hosts, even if he struggles to catch exactly what they are discussing. 

After their meal, Seokjin clears the table while Hoseok fills their glasses with more soju. Jimin feels satisfied but not too full, and all the soju has helped relax him enough that the anxiety is at bay. Perhaps Seokjin and Hoseok being present has helped in that sense, too. Jimin is not entirely sure. 

"What would you like, baby?" Hoseok asks. "We could relax in front of the television...or we could head upstairs and take your mind off everything in other ways."

Jimin is pulled from his thoughts—most of which are just spaced out staring into nothing—and blinks at Hoseok, who sits to his right with his chin cradled in his palm.

Hoseok continues, "We could relax in front of the television...or we could head upstairs and take your mind off everything in other ways."

"I'm not sure," Jimin admits. "But I could use a distraction...more than what the television might offer. What did the two of you have in mind?"

Hoseok grins, then bites his lip, humming and cocking his head as if in thought. "I've wanted to have you in our home for so long, I feel too overwhelmed with possibility to choose."

Warmth floods Jimin's neck and cheeks, and he flits his tongue out to wet his lips, watching as Hoseok's eyes follow the movement. "Same," he mutters softly, suddenly feeling shy.

"Well," Seokjin offers as he returns to the table and drapes himself over Hoseok's shoulders, "we could tie you up, whip you, and all that usual stuff. Or, we can take you into one of the doll rooms and dress you up like our pretty little princess, then punish you until you cry."

"Or, we can also go easy on him," Hoseok chides as he turns to look at Seokjin with a playful smile.

Seokjin shakes his head and, staring into Jimin's eyes, says, "Baby doesn't want us to go easy. Does he?"

"No," Jimin responds with a delicate shake of his head, still in disbelief that his conversation is happening. "I want to lose myself."

"What a delight to know some things never change," Soekjin says.

Jimin does not miss the way Hoseok's face lights up with delight. The wide, toothy grin sends a shiver down Jimin's spine, and he has to look away, gaze falling to the cup of soju before him. He picks it up and takes a gulp of the cool, bittersweet liquid, then sets it down. 

"I know just the thing," Seokjin says as he stands up straight and holds his hand out to Jimin. 

Jimin scoots his chair back from the table and stands, then takes Seokjin's hand. A gasp escapes him as Seokjin tugs him close, forcing him to stumble into his chest. 

"Come this way, baby."

"Okay," Jimin mutters softly.

Hoseok stands and peers over Seokjin's shoulder. "Okay is an improper response for your hosts. What do you say to us, baby?"

Jimin knows this game—has played it many times with Seokjin before, and is absolutely unsurprised that Hoseok prefers the same. 

"Yes, sir," he tries and is rewarded with another devious grin and a nod of Hoseok's head. 

Jimin is led through the dining area, back through the living room, to a set of stairs beside the entrance, and then up. The master bedroom in these homes is a door at the end of the hall—a large room that takes up most of the second floor, but Jimin knows that he is not being taken there. Seokjin leads him to a large wooden door on the right.

As they approach, Hoseok takes the lead and keys in a passcode, which unlocks the door. When Hoseok walks in, dim lights flick on automatically, revealing a room with large, comfortable couches and chairs, a bed, and shelves upon shelves of sex toys—from impact toys to dildos and plugs, and more. 

Everything is black and dark red, with bursts of yellow and red light glowing from beneath and behind furniture and stationary devices, with no lighting overhead. Hoseok walks to a large black sofa in the center of the room and sits on one of the far ends with his arm outstretched over the back. 

"Go to Seokie, baby," Seokjin instructs, and Jimin mutters, "Yes sir," as he releases Seokjin's hand and makes his way to the couch, slotting himself beside Hoseok's open arm. 

"Jinnie, bear, what did you have in mind for us, today?" Hoseok asks, craning his neck to follow Seokjin's movements through the room. 

Seokjin stands before a large, dark armoire with a door swung open on the left side. Hanging from hooks on the inside of the door are various small toys, and Jimin immediately recognizes what Seokjin is reaching for because this is something they used to do together all those years ago. 

Jimin shifts on the couch, feeling a wave of apprehension return as he watches Seokjin take a small silicon rod and begin to wipe it clean with a cleansing pad. Seokjin has always been meticulous with cleanliness and sterilization after play, but he always gives his toys and tools an additional swipe with a gentle cleanser before use. 

With the door to the armoire wide open, Seokjin turns to the couch and raises an eyebrow at Jimin—a silent question. 

Jimin nods, whispers, "Yes, sir," and swallows thickly while Hoseok's fingers dance over Jimin's shoulder, sending a tingle of comfort through him. 

"Want to wear a collar for us, baby?" Hoseok offers.

Jimin does want to wear a collar, and he turns with wide, eager eyes and nods. "Yes, sir."

"We bought one just for you," Hoseok blurts out. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth before continuing. "I-if you'd like that one?"

"You bought me one?" Jimin asks, feeling affection burst and bloom in his chest. 

"We've been waiting for you to join us," Hoseok admits, blushing pretty and nervous as his cheeks take on a slightly darker shade in the dim light.

Jimin feels overwhelmed with joy but also with regret. Some part of him always assumed that there was no place for him in their bed—that their invitations were a courtesy simply extended to the man Seokjin used to fuck, and nothing more. 

Hoseok scoots to the edge of the couch and slides himself away from Jimin, then he makes his way to the same armoire Seokjin stands near. From a drawer on the right side, Hoseok produces a black, rectangular box, then he stands on his toes and kisses Seokjin on the cheek before returning to Jimin, sitting beside him on the edge of the sofa with his body angled in and their knees touching. 

Jimin waits eagerly as Hoseok opens the box, revealing a very thin black leather collar with pale pink metal o rings hanging from various points around the length. Jimin's breath gets caught in his throat as tears well in his eyes, and he looks up to Hoseok, then to Seokjin, and back at the choker.

"This is—" Jimin begins, but his words get caught. "Thank you."

"Your hair was that pretty pale pink back when we bought it," Seokjin says as he approaches with a small silicon toy in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other.

Jimin smiles and runs an index finger over the hoops. His hair was pale pink when he met Hoseok, which means—

"You bought this for me that long ago?"

Hoseok hums and smiles softly. "We always wanted you to come to us, baby."

"I'm sorry," Jimin mutters quietly before he can stop himself. 

Seokjin tuts his tongue and sits on the couch beside him. "Nonsense. We knew you would come when you were ready. Well, we hoped, anyway." 

Hoseok interjects, "Admittedly, we did get a little jealous every time you brought some new guy around. We began to wonder if you held a grudge."

Gently, Hoseok removes the collar from the box and holds it up to Jimin's throat with a smile. As he wraps the thin leather around Jimin's neck and leans in closely to tighten it, Jimin breathes in Hoseok's floral, musky scent. The cold metal hoops kiss his skin and cause goosebumps to break over his arms.

"Perhaps a little," Jimin admits softly. "I guess for a while, I felt replaced."

Hoseok finishes clasping the collar, then sits back and gently takes Jimin's face in his hands. His pretty lips are downturned in a frown as he says, "I'm so sorry, baby."

"We have you here now, and that is all that matters," Seokjin says as he gets onto his knees on the floor.

Jimin straightens out and sits back on the couch while Seokjin crawls between his knees, and Hoseok's hands slide from Jimin's face, down to his neck, and to his chest. Seokjin sets the items in his hand beside Hoseok, then places both hands on Jimin's knees and rubs them up to his thighs. The warmth of Seokjin's hands and the distant but familiar sight of him looking up at Jimin from between his legs stir up myriad emotions. 

Seokjin leans forward and, with a smirk, finds the end of one of the strings on Jimin's pants with his teeth. Jimin's breath hitches as Seokjin gazes up at him through his lashes and begins to slowly sit back, untying Jimin's leather pants using only his mouth. Jimin finds himself panting as Seokjin runs his hands down and up his thighs, then further, to his waist. 

"Let's get you out of these," Seokjin purrs with a smile. "As much as I love the sight of you in leather."

Jimin nods, already feeling a bit dazed, and he lifts his hips as Seokjin gathers the waistband of his pants and briefs and tugs them down, past his thighs. Seokjin pulls, forcing Jimin's legs straight up in the air and he slides down in a slouching position, giggling softly as his hands grip the edge of the cushions for stability.

Rather than free Jimin's legs from the leather pants, Seokjin stops with Jimin's knees restrained and his legs standing tall, and rubs down the backs of Jimin's bare thighs, spreading him slightly. Jimin gasps and struggles to hold himself in position as Seokjin's fingers tease near his balls and down to his ass. 

"Hyung," Jimin whines, though for what he whines, he is unsure. 

Hoseok helps Jimin by sitting high on his knees beside him and tugging at the pants, freeing his legs. As soon as Jimin's feet fall free from the fabric, his legs spread, and Seokjin takes advantage of the position and pushes his thighs open, spreading him wide. Jimin hardly has a chance to adjust before Seokjin's warm, wet tongue is pressing and laving against his half-hard length. 

A breathy whimper punches from Jimin's lungs, and he shivers as Seokjin leaves sloppy, wet kisses along his thighs and groin in no discernable rhythm or pattern. Jimin slowly, gently lowers his legs and attempts to sit up and get more comfortable, but Seokjin presses Jimin's hips firmly into the couch, and Hoseok removes the cushion behind him, slowly lowering him onto his back. The couch is far deeper than Jimin realized when he sat, and he nearly distracts himself by wondering how thick those cushions are, but the sound of a lube bottle snapping open instantly dissolves all thought. 

"Have you sounded since doing it with me?" Seokjin asks. 

Jimin shakes his head, then remembers Seokjin probably can't see the movement and says, "No, sir."

"We'll go nice and slow, baby," Hoseok says as he pets Jimin's hair. "Just tell us what you need, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"And if you go non-verbal and need me to stop?" Seokjin asks as he drags his teeth over the soft flesh of Jimin's inner thigh.

"Clap my hands, sir," Jimin whimpers as the idea of becoming so high from pleasure that he might lose his ability to speak tingles through him. 

"Good baby," Seokjin and Hoseok say in tandem, sending a wave of arousal and excitement crashing over Jimin all at once.

All Jimin wants is to be so good for them that he breaks and becomes a shell of himself—a vessel for nothing but pleasure. Jimin does not reach that level of high with anyone else. Not with his now-dead ex, and certainly never with his clients. 

His achievement of subspace relies heavily on not only his level of trust but also on the unique types of pain that he has only explored with Seokjin. He found out about subspace by chance with Seokjin and has never allowed anyone to come close since. 

Jimin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, relaxing into the couch as best as he can while Seokjin gathers his cock and gently holds it in his hand, pointed straight up. Jimin prefers to sound while only partially erect, and he tries only to think of things that will stop him from becoming too hard, replaying the visual of alertness draining from his exes eyes as the laced cocaine pulled him from consciousness. 

Remembering the murder that had taken place mere hours ago is probably a mistake, and Jimin nearly begins to spiral and panic. But then the blunt tip of a small, silicon rod begins to enter the hole of his cock, and Jimin returns to reality. Seokjin is so painfully slow that as Jimin's eyes fly open and he stares up at the ceiling, all thoughts that had previously plagued him are wiped clean.

The stretch of his urethral opening is a familiar sting Jimin does his best to adjust to, and he gasps and claws at the couch as he tells himself over and over silently to breathe, just breathe, in slowly and out just as slowly, breathe, breathe, breathe.

"Does it hurt, baby?" Hoseok asks as he gently pets Jimin's hair.

"Yes, sir," Jimin manages through clenched teeth.

"Color?" Seokjin asks, stilling his movement but keeping the silicon inserted.

In the past, they always used the stoplight safeword system, where green signals for Seokjin to keep going and red signals for him to stop.

"Green, sir," Jimin responds, almost desperately.

Seokjin continues to slowly press in, stretching Jimin open with the small tool. The feeling no longer stings, but it does feel intrusive in a way that makes him want to squirm and claw and fight. It also feels so good—so unbelievably, incomprehensibly good—that Jimin trembles and sinks and does his best to disappear completely. 

"You're doing so good for us, pretty baby," Hoseok says sweetly, running his hand over Jimin's clothed chest, grazing his fingertips over a nipple and sending sparks through him. 

"Th-thank you, sir."

The pressure in Jimin's cock evens out, and Jimin tilts his head to find that the sounding rod has been completely inserted, with nothing but a little black loop sticking out from his tip. Jimin drops his head back to the couch and lets out a deep exhale. Already, he feels tingly and breathless—light as a feather on the breeze.

"I'm going to stretch you open a fuck you now," Hoseok mutters into Jimin's ear, making Jimin gasp. "Does that sound good to you, baby?"

"Yes, sir."

"And if we completely lose you to subspace, what should we do?" Seokjin asks.

"Continue to fuck me," Jimin mutters with a smile. "Use me until you're done and clean me up."

"You're sure about that?" Hoseok asks as his teeth graze over Jimin's throat.

Jimin has never been so sure of anything in his life. "Yes, sir," he whimpers desperately. He trusts them with his life. 

A lube-slick hand strokes Jimin's cock, and his sense of reality cracks. The pleasure feels so intense with the sounding rod snug inside him, that all he can do is gasp and continue to weakly claw at the cushion below him. 

Jimin hardly recognizes the weight on the couch shift, nor his upper half being lifted enough to tug the shirt over his head before his back is returned to the warm, soft cushion. 

When Jimin's legs are spread and a long, slick finger is prising him open, he realizes that he is lying fully on the couch—that he has been shifted around entirely. Punchdrunk on dizzying euphoria, all Jimin can comprehend is what his body feels; nothing else in the world exists. 

And when a warm, wet mouth engulfs his cock at the same time as two fingers stretch him open, Jimin fades completely from his body and floats to the ceiling. 

For the first time in years, Jimin feels the warm, peaceful hug of subspace, and he is totally and completely gone. His body and mind and trusted solely to these two handsome devils, and he is completely at their mercy.

thank you so much for reading!!! i hope you enjoy these extras. i lament only writing from one point of view, so these have been a lot of fun for me. hopefully it’s not too confusing plopping them into the story as early as chapter 10.

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[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 2) Chapter Three

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Three: One Hell of a Roommate

Summary: (Y/N) and Sebastian begin their work inside the circus but encounter a surprising individual.

            “Friends! Lend me your ears! We’ve a couple of newcomers joining us today,” said Joker to the rest of the troupe.

            Behind him, Sebastian, Ciel, and (Y/N) stepped out. Ciel wore a blue, black, and white costume with bows and a pirate hat. Sebastian had been lucky enough to just get to wear his suit and just changed his tie for a bow and a top hat. (Y/N)’s maid outfit had not been suitable at all, but they had been able to keep to black. They wore a black leotard with faux gemstones of black overlaid so that they shimmered as they moved, black heels, and netted stockings.

            Sebastian was doing his best to not let his eyes roam—he was a professional—but (Y/N)’s figure was quite something, and as had been established, they were always attractive to Sebastian. It didn’t help that the outfit’s silhouette and show of (Y/N)’s skin and body were reminiscent of their demon form. Sebastian attempted to control his thoughts, but images of them in their demon form with him in his own continue to flit through his mind.

            (Y/N) below him, cat ears twitching in pleasure while their sharp eyes try to stay open as he gave them pleasure humans could never imagine. (Y/N) above him, tail curling over him as he allowed himself vulnerability and placed himself in their power. (Y/N) with his true name on their lips as they moan and c—

            “This one here in the tailcoat is Black!” introduced Joker, shaking Sebastian from his thoughts.

            “I am Black. Nice to meet you,” said Sebastian, quickly collecting himself and smiling.

            “Then we’ve got the acrobatic Cat,” said Joker.

            (Y/N) smiled and ignored the teasing look in Sebastian’s eyes as he smirked at them when he heard their circus name.

            “And this little one—” Joker gestured to Ciel “—is Smile!”

            (Y/N) and Sebastian were both smothering laughs as Ciel blanched.

            “Treat them well, now, alright?” said Joker.

            “Come, Smile. Say hello to your seniors,” said Sebastian, stepping towards the other troupe members.

            “And remember a smile,” teased (Y/N).

            “I…I look forward to working with you.” Ciel forced the words out.

            “C’mon Smile, smile!” cheered Joker. Ciel forced a smile, and Joker laughed. “Now I’ll give ye a quick tour. Come with me.” He led them to a collection of smaller tents. “First, these are the tents ye’ll be sleeping in. This is where the so-called ‘second-string’ members—stagehands, newcomers, and the like—live. There’s usually two or three to a tent.” He nodded to a larger tent. “And that there’s the dining tent and the tent that serves as our larder. It’s up to ye new folk to cook up the meals, too, so give it your best! The tent all the way in the back is the first-aid tent, and…” Joker showed them to a roped off area with medium-sized tents. “From ‘here on back are the private tents of the main cast.”

            (Y/N) and Sebastian exchanged a look. That was where the real information would be if there was any. The “main cast” would definitely be involved with any wrongdoings of the circus if it turned out it was the cause of the children’s disappearances.

            “Private tents?” said Ciel.

            “Well, once ye hit it big, ye get a place to yourself.” Joker pointed to a tent. “Oh, and one more thing, that’s Snake’s tent, so ye should stay away for your own good. There are a great many poisonous snakes roaming free, so one bite, and off ye go to the other side. Snake and his slithery friends are still veeery shy, so newcomers especially should stay sharp ‘round these parts.” Joker cocked his head. “By the way, what’s become of your right eye, Smile?”

            “Eh?” Ciel stammered. “Ah, this, there was an accident.”

            “How sad,” said Joker genuinely. “For someone so little to have had such misfortune befall him.” Undoubtedly, Ciel’s “accident” reminded him of he and his circus troupe’s various disabilities. Joker smiled and patted Ciel’s head. “Well, everyone ‘ere’s got their own issues, so ye’ll get along just fine!”

            “Yes,” Ciel forced the word out awkwardly.

            “Like us, did everyone here join the troupe while the circus was making the rounds?” asked Sebastian.

            “For the most part, yes, but all the first-string members come from the same town. Guess ye could say we’re all childhood friends,” said Joker.

            “Childhood friends?” repeated (Y/N), raising an eyebrow. That was a promising lead.

            “Yeah, but Snake’s still a rookie. He’s a genius with his snakes he is, and we were without a snake charmer at the time, so he became a member right quick,” said Joker. “If ye join the first string, ye don’t have to help with prep, and ye don’t have to worry about fighting for your meals. And ye can get your own tent. That’s why everyone does their best to get to the top, to the first string.”

            Joker finished the tour where they started, at a large tent filled with various tools, acrobatic bars, and tightropes—everything a circus performer could need to practice their tricks.

            “And here we are: the training grounds,” said Joker. “Newcomers train and train ‘ere with the hope of debuting in an actual performance one day. Ye must always start with the basics. Once ye’ve made quick work of your warmups, then—”

            “Joker!” called Beast, entering the tent. “It’s almost time.”

            “I hear ye!” Joker clapped Sebastian and (Y/N) on the back and ruffled Ciel’s hair. “Good luck to ye! I’ll see ye after my performance.” He left with a smile, and Beast tsked as she watched the three newcomers.

            (Y/N), Sebastian, and Ciel began stretching to talk quietly while blending in. Well, Ciel couldn’t really stretch, but Sebastian dutifully assisted him, and (Y/N) was contorting themself into positions humans couldn’t reach (cat flexibility came in handy).

            “A tent full of poisonous snakes at the entrance of the main cast’s private quarters, hm?” huffed Ciel.

            “Guard snakes instead of guard dogs, eh?” said Sebastian.

            “So to gain access we need to become first-string,” said (Y/N), speaking upside-down in a backbend.

            “Poisonous snakes won’t kill you two,” said Ciel. “Go see whether children are here or—”

            “They are not here,” said Sebastian.

            “There are no children’s presences at all in the circus,” said (Y/N), kicking over to their feet and sinking into the splits.

            “But we have yet to find proof that the circus has no relation to the missing children. We can’t leave until we’ve looked into all the nooks and crannies of this place,” said Ciel.

            “Quite,” said Sebastian, bending Ciel over his back. “It is entirely possible that they might be in such a condition that I would be unable to sense their presence.”

            “Don’t say such an ill-omened thing,” said Ciel, struggling under Sebastian as he bent over Ciel’s back. “She wishes for the children’s safe return.”

            “Yes, sir,” said Sebastian.

            “However, instead of the children, we did sense—” began (Y/N).

            “Heeey! Ye can’t be stretchin’ all slow and steady, like, pick it up!” said Dagger, jumping towards them.

            “Huh? Dagger ol’ boy, wot about yer act?” said another circus performer.

            “I was up first today! I’m all done, so I’ll supervise yer practice, like.” Dagger smiled. “First, we gotta decide what’cher act’s gonna be. Requests?”

            “I’m fine with anything that doesn’t involve me using my body, like the tightrope. Anything but that,” said Ciel. Sebastian and (Y/N) unsuccessfully smothered chuckles at the memory of him on the tightrope.

            “Yeah, ye do look awful weak!” laughed Dagger. “Then I’ll teach Smile all ‘e needs to ‘bout knife throwin’. What about you, Black, Cat?”

            “Well, I do not have any requests in particular,” said Sebastian.

            “I prefer acrobatics,” said (Y/N).

            “Right,” said Dagger. “Well, then, show me what ye got, and I’ll see what I think would work!”

            “Let’s see…juggling,” said Sebastian, throwing bottles incredible heights as they spun through his hands at high speeds.

            “Passing through a ring of fire.” (Y/N) ran up and flipped through a ring of fire with the precision and ease of a cat slipping through a fence, landing on their feet without wavering.

            “Pole climbing,” said Sebastian, running up a pole at a ninety-degree angle.

            “Trapeze,” said (Y/N), swinging from the bars.

            Sebastian joined them, and they jumped from one bar to the other, wrapping their legs and arms around him as he showed off his strength of support both (and smirked at the sensation of (Y/N) pressed so close). (Y/N) pushed off him and flipped backwards, landing on the other bar in a show of balance and strength humans simply couldn’t master.

            (Y/N) paused as they saw Beast huffing over Betty the tiger. Her act had finished, but Betty clearly still wasn’t pleased with being retrained and was being more difficult than usual. (Y/N) smirked, deciding to have a bit of fun with Beast since they needed a bit of petty revenge after Sebastian was so close to her.

            “That’s hardly a way to train such an animal,” said (Y/N), approaching the cage.

            “What do you know about it?!” said Beast.

            “I know that this darling tiger needs some respect,” said (Y/N). They knelt and extended a hand between the bars.

            “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?! Are you mad just like that other one?!” said Beast.

            But Betty let out a light growl, as close to a purr as a tiger could get, and butted her head against (Y/N)’s hand. Beast’s jaw dropped open, as did several other people’s. (Y/N) smiled and petted the tiger, who was reacting to (Y/N)’s demon cat side.

            “Sebastian, would you like to apologize for accosting Betty yesterday?” said (Y/N) teasingly.

            “Of course,” said Sebastian. He eagerly walked over and began petting the tiger. He sighed happily. “So soft…So beautiful…”

            (Y/N) smiled as they watched Sebastian. They were happy to make him happy. They didn’t believe there were many ways for them to show they cared for him or earn anything from him, so they did what they could. (Y/N) was blind to the fact that anything they did would be praised by Sebastian to Heaven and Hell and back.

            The pair rose and returned to Dagger, who was still watching the tamed tiger in surprise.

            “Wow!” said Dagger. “Ye two are something else, Black, Cat.”

            “You’re overdoing it,” muttered Ciel. “You should be acting more like newcomers…”

            “Don’t you want us to be first-string?” said (Y/N), smirking.

            “Man! I give up! Two more mad great new fellers?! For real?! I can’t lose to ye,” laughed Dagger.

            “…Another newcomer?” said Ciel.

            “There’s this guy who’s just joined. ‘E’s amazin’! O’er there, on the tightrope,” said Dagger. “He used to be a civil servant or something’ and is serious like ye wouldna believe!”

            And above them, in a brightly colored suit and holding a tree trimmer as he walked across the tightrope, stood the exact being (Y/N) and Sebastian had sensed at the circus. Their gaze darkened, and Ciel’s eyes widened.

            “Heey! C’mon down ‘ere fer a bit!” called Dagger. “Suit!”

            William the Grim Reaper glanced down. He sighed. “I thought I sensed something unpleasant. It was you two, was it? Good grief.” His Death Scythe extended and stabbed the ground beside Sebastian and (Y/N). “I never thought we would meet again. Goodness. What ever did you come sniffing around to devour this time?” He leapt down and pointed his Death Scythe at Sebastian’s neck. Sebastian shifted before (Y/N), unconsciously blocking them from any initial attack. “You demons!”

            “Demon…?” said Dagger, perplexed, as people murmured in confusion.

            “In this day and age, when there are rarely enough Grim Reapers to get the job done even at the best of times, the appearance of a demon, let alone two, means I shan’t be able to clock out on time yet again,” said William.

            “Grim Reaper?” Dagger cocked his head.

            Damn, they’re true identities! “N-No, he’s just—!” Ciel floundered for an explanation.

            Dagger laughed and smacked William. “That’s enough o’ that, me big fore-‘eaded friend! Ye said it with such a serious mug, I couldna tell ye were jokin’!”

            Ciel breathed a sigh of relief. (Y/N) wasn’t surprised at Dagger’s obliviousness. Humans would ignore the truth whenever they could.

            “Been shootin’ off strange jokes from day one, ‘e ‘as!” said Dagger. “’E’s always goin’ on ‘bout souls and the like, and ‘e’s mad fer anythin’ to do wiv ‘em ghosts ‘n stuff.”

            “I am not one for joking,” said William.

            “I’ll introduce ye,” said Dagger, ignoring William. “These’re the rookies who joined today. The tiny’ sone’s Smile. The big one’s Black. The pretty one is Cat. Yer all risin’ stars, so play nice now!”

            William turned away. “I do not, by any means, wish to make nice with noxious beasts.”

            “ ‘By any means’?! C’mon, teamwork’s important in the circus, ye know!” said Dagger.

            “Why is a Grim Reaper here…?” said Ciel.

            “It’s unusual for a Grim Reaper to go about snooping of his own accord,” said Sebastian.

            “And that one isn’t like you-know-who,” said (Y/N). Sebastian nodded. William wasn’t Grell. They were pretty much as different as Grim Reapers could get.

            “But now we can be sure of one thing,” said Sebastian. “There is something going on at this circus after all.”

            “Looks like he’s worth investigating,” said Ciel. “Sebastian.”

            “ ‘Eeey! What are ye doin’, Smile?! Ye gotta practice, practice, so ye don’t lose out to Black!” said Dagger, looping an arm around Ciel. He dragged him away with promises of teaching him knife tricks.

            Sebastian and (Y/N) stepped towards William as he made to go back up to the tightrope.

            “Pardon me, there is a little something I would like you to tell me, ‘Old-timer,’ ” said Sebastian.

            “I have nothing to say to you,” said William.

            “Please do not be like that,” said Sebastian, grabbing William’s wrist.

            (Y/N) smiled pleasantly. “Let’s step outside.”

            William tsked but stepped out of the training tent. “Really,” he said. “On top of the London district being perpetually understaffed so that I, a member of management, must go out into the field to retrieve souls simply because the retrieval division is missing one employee…What a travesty.”

            “So, what brings such a busy Grim Reaper as yourself to a place like this?” said Sebastian.

            “I’m here cleaning up after that scum dispatch member who is currently suspended,” said William.

            Grell is always getting into trouble, isn’t she? thought (Y/N).

            “I didn’t think I would be made to do so just because that bother and I are coworkers…and without any extra pay, at that,” said William.

            “Well, there must be something pretty special going on here if a reaper is investigating covertly,” said (Y/N).

            “I cannot give information pertaining to souls to fiends,” said William. “It amounts to throwing a rabbit in front of a carnivore.”

            “I doubt any souls around here are appetizing to me,” said (Y/N).

            “I am afraid that I as well have no interest in cheap souls,” said Sebastian.

            “Big talk for a starving demon,” said William. “When the reality is that you’re mad with hunger.”

            Sebastian smirked, teeth sharp, and spoke with a low voice, demonic aura seeping into it. “I grew weary of indiscriminately devouring souls long ago. The more ravenous I am…the more delicious the dinner.”

            (Y/N) had been taught that by him, and they grinned in agreement.

            “Moreover,” continued Sebastian, slipping his glove half off to reveal the contract seal that thrummed with magic. “As I have a collar around my neck at the moment, you have nothing to fear.”

            “From you, perhaps.” William eyed (Y/N), whose own contract mark would not show a connection to a demon since they had no master at the moment. “I don’t trust when your kind is wild.”

            “As I said, I’m not interested in any souls around here,” said (Y/N). “Sebastian can tell you that I have a refined palate.”

            “Indeed,” said Sebastian.

            He had long ago given up showing (Y/N) other souls to form a contract with, even just to learn. From the moment they had been reborn as a demon, all they wanted was the pleasure of consuming a soul that found power, particularly those that found power over others who abused their own influence. Sebastian had never learned why they drifted to such souls and found themself satiated with that particular contract, but he suspected their mortal life played a factor.

            Although most of their memories had been forgotten in time, certain characteristics remained branded on their demonic aura, as if their soul had burned into them as they died and reminded them of what they desired. Sebastian knew they radiated a demonic aura that echoed the vestiges of a human soul that had reached maturity and achieved its ambitions before death. He was curious and desired to understand more of (Y/N)’s very self, but he refrained from ever asking, both when he was their mentor and now when he loved them.

            He would not risk their trust in him by prying. When they were his apprentice, it had become clear (Y/N) gained power when they consumed the souls that suited them and found the contracts easy for them to handle. And now, with Sebastian’s feelings for them having developed into love, it would be a greater victory in his quest to win their affections if they were to share themself. He would not force them into vulnerability. He respected and loved them too much for that.

            William gazed at Sebastian and (Y/N) before tsking. “Very well. Since you have the honor of being the greatest of evils to appear before I get to work, let me warn you. We, the Grim Reapers, are tasked with judging those who are scheduled to die according to the Soul Retrieval List that is distributed to us. We use our Death Scythes to check each person’s memories—their Cinematic Records—one by one…and judge whether they deserve to die or not. And without understanding the great effort we put forth, you demons go about snacking away at those souls like ravens on a corpse. Let me be blunt. A few days hence, we will judge a large number of souls in this vicinity. This is a special case, so please refrain from interfering.”

            “Goodness, and you have to deal with it all on your own? How terrible,” said (Y/N). “Still, a large number of souls…” They smirked and teased William. “Shall I lend you a hand?”

            William’s Death Scythe whipped out towards them, and (Y/N) leaned to the side to avoid it. “I refuse to work overtime free of charge,” he said. “I will hunt you down if you get in my way.”

            “What a temper for someone so serious,” said (Y/N), grinning at how easily they had riled him up. “You forgot so quickly I have no interest in any of the souls here. Or, in fact, of being involved with Grim Reapers.”

            “Hey!” Ciel stepped outside the tent. “That nosy knife-thrower is looking for you."

            William glanced at Ciel. “He doesn’t seem all that high-quality to me. I truly don’t understand you demons…”

            “You,” said Ciel harshly. “Stop calling Sebastian and (Y/N) that. What are you going to do about it if the troupe members get suspicions? We were lucky they thought you were just joking before, but the fact you can’t even blend in among people makes you lower than that vulgar reaper.”

            “Indeed. As we will not get in the way of your duties, we hope that you will not get in the way of ours,” said Sebastian.

            “Thank you. I do not even want you in my field of vision,” said William.

            “Then we’ll all leave each other alone,” said (Y/N).

            “Right then, Smile,” said William. “I’m counting on you to hold your dog’s lead tight.” He glanced distastefully at (Y/N). “And someone keep an eye on the wild one.”

            “I don’t want to hear it from specs, who can’t even manage a covert investigation properly,” said Ciel.

            “I am not Specs. I am Suit,” said William.

            “Come on, Sebastian, (Y/N),” said Ciel, turning away.

            “Yes, sir,” said (Y/N).

            “Yes, Young Master,” said Sebastian.

            Inside the tent, Joker was rounding up all the rookies. “There they are! Now here’s what ye’ve been waiting for! Time to announce room assignments for the rookies! The results of the impartial lottery are as follows—Smile will be in tent eight. This is your roommate.” He gestured to a sweet looking boy with red-brown hair and freckles.

            “Black is in tent nine,” said Joker.

            “Seb—Black and I won’t be in the same tent?” said Ciel nervously.

            “Ahaha! Smile sure is sweet on Black! Ya gotta learn to be more independent,” teased Dagger.

            “And Black’s roommate is—Suit!” announced Joker. William and Sebastian’s eyes widened in horror. “And then we’ve also got Cat in tent nine!” Joker glanced at (Y/N). “It’s a three-person tent, and hopefully you’re alright with rooming with men since we weren’t sure what you’d prefer.”

            (Y/N) forced a smile. They were happy to room with Sebastian, but the Reaper? They were not pleased. “Yes, it’s alright.”

            Joker grinned. “We knew it! Black ‘n Smiles ‘n Cat were already friends so we thought it would work out!”

            “Guess we’re outta here!” said Dagger. “Righty, sleep tight!”

            They left the tent with Sebastian, (Y/N), and William glaring at each other, Ciel looking horrified at staying with a stranger, and the boy with freckles smiling brightly.

            “This is the worst,” said William.

            “My thoughts exactly,” said Sebastian.

            “How unlucky,” muttered (Y/N).

            “Nice to meetcha, Smile!” said the freckled boy brightly.

            “Right…” said Ciel.

l

            (Y/N), Sebastian, and William entered tent nine. There was a bunk bed on one side and a single bed across from it with a small path between.

            “I will take the upper bed,” said William. “You, Black, will sleep on the lower.” He glanced at (Y/N). “I prefer a collared beast to a wild one being near.” (Y/N) grinned to show their sharp canines. “Let me make one thing clear from the outset. Unlike demons, Grim Reapers need to sleep. Don’t make noises late at night and disturb my rest.” He climbed up into his bunk.

            “My kind does enjoy sleep as a luxury, however,” said Sebastian.

            (Y/N) nodded. “I like the occasional rest after a particularly good meal~.”

            “A catnap?” remarked Sebastian impishly

            (Y/N)’s nose twitched as he teased them.

            “You two are disgusting,” said William, rolling over to ignore them and what he (correctly) assumed was demonic flirting.

l

            Sebastian lay awake as the moon hung over the tent. He and (Y/N) had attempted to stand and investigate, but Sebastian had nearly gotten pierced by William’s Death Scythe for trying to “wander without his Master.” So, Sebastian and (Y/N) were forced to either sleep for luxury or lay in their beds, bored.

            Sebastian rolled over from where he lay stiffly on his back and gazed at (Y/N). They faced away from him, the space between the beds small enough that Sebastian would easily be able to reach over to them. As the moon filtered through the flaps of the tent, Sebastian watched it highlight the slope of (Y/N)’s body. And he found himself wanting to hold them, lovingly. He could imagine enjoying the luxury of sleep with his arms around them and them curled up against him.

            Sebastian wanted that, wanted them and that love.

            And so, even as he didn’t sleep, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to imagine loving them in all the ways he wanted.

l

            (Y/N) didn’t dare turn around to face Sebastian. It would be too obvious, then, that they sought him out, and if Sebastian didn’t reciprocate their love, it would hurt. So (Y/N) stayed frozen on their side, wondering what Sebastian was thinking of. Because (Y/N)’s mind was filled with him. How safe they felt beside him. Any other demon or even man and (Y/N) would immediately request another tent, one with a woman, instead. Much more trustworthy.

            But Sebastian? (Y/N) trusted him. He had never pushed their boundaries, even when he was mentoring them. When they made it clear they had some lines they didn’t want crossed (touch had been a prominent issue for quite some time), Sebastian had respected them and allowed them to bend and learn at their own pace. He pushed just enough to get them stronger but never made them break and feel vulnerable.

            That was probably when (Y/N) first started getting attached to Sebastian. They had been wary when he first became their mentor, suspicious of his intentions as a demon, even if they were a demon themself. They had known far too many men of that kind to not be wary. But Sebastian had proven himself from the beginning. He had been strict with his teaching and made sure (Y/N) became a capable demon. He didn’t take advantage of them. He had respected them.

            (Y/N) just hoped that he’d come to love them, too.

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[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

GOT THE FATTEST FUCKING CRUSH ON KAPPA NOW CUZ OF THE HELVETE FIC like i just wanna how kappa would be like as a lover both domestic and romantic like FUCK (this is also me requesting a headcannon list if you're up for it)

Me too, nonnie, me too 🤝🏻 I mean, obviously, Kappa is one of my favourites to write for, but this time, I actively wrote myself into crushing on this charismatic hippe ass mf HARD 🤧 The HCs are super soft and fluff af but also 18+!.

🌻 Domestic lover!Kappa HCs under the cut 🌻

🌻 This man would be the lover to eradicate every last memory about your shitty ex's, treating you like his queen and nothing less. I strongly believe that Kappa would braid you a colourful flower crown every now and then to surprise you on days where the sun is shining bright and bee's and butterflies flutter through the air while your eyes sparkle like gemstones as he places the flower crown on top of your head.

🌻 One Good Man By Janis Joplin

🌻 Okay, let's start this off with the fact that Kappa, once emotionally attached to you, would be your number 1 fan in every regard. He'd cheer you on and support you in every way possible. He's got absolutely no boundaries when it comes to making sure that you have everything you need and more!

🌻 Jup, okay, I'm really writing myself into crushing on him further....anyhow, Kappa would also offer you to wear some of his rings. Collecting shiny little treasures for you like a crow. Everything from necklace pendants to pretty stones, feathers and tiny, handwritten notes cramped into a box that threatened to burst with tokens of his love and adoration for you.

🌻 This one really is just vibes but Kappa is so incense sticks, scented candles and homemade pastries that it's giving me brain rot. He's a hot slice of apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and whipped cream: Everything you could possibly desire.

🌻 Can we talk about y'alls living situation for a moment because I just know that Kappa and you would be living off-grid in an old VW T1 Samba-Bus 🚎 With an orange cat and a lazy but very loyal German shepherd. Both animals were found on the side of the road and you never really understood if Kappa and you adopted them or the other way around.

🌻 With that out of the way, It's move on to the fact that Kappa, completely infatuated with you, would fuck and pleasure you about everywhere. In the van on a rainy day and outside in the field while sun bathing. He'd eat you out as your thighs dangle from the footbridge of a small lake you two stopped by to escape the summer heat for a while. You can't tell me that the two of you wouldn't be going it at like rabbits as soon as the next best chance presents itself 🤭

🌻 This man would give it to you whenever he just so much as gets a glimpse of you maybe being a little horny and he wouldn't just be fucking, no, he'd be making love to you with saccharine-sweet praises whispered into your ear while you wrap your shaking legs around his waist to pull him in deeper.

🌻 Afterwards, he'd clean you up nice and good before propping up a kettle on the stove to prepare some mushroom-infused tea to end the day on a slight trip with you in his arms, fingers toying with strands of your hair and his lips mumbling on about just how much he loves you while the both of you sink deeper into the soft mattress beneath your bodies, drifting off into a satisfied slumber.

[artistsfuneral]

🐾 Topaz the Griffinslayer 🐾

Vesemir gets a cat. The cat takes one look at him and decides 'this one is mine now'.

---------- ao3 ------------

Chapter One - meeting the mouser

When the old witcher returns to his horse he is met with the strange sight of a cat leisurely lying on Daphne's dapple gray back. The first thought that comes to his mind is that the cat is damn lucky he took Daphne and not Malwina down the keep. His other mare would have trampled the poor thing without hesitation.

Then he notices the weird thing about the cat. It doesn't hiss at him. In fact it doesn't show any signs of aggression at all. In all his years on the Path and afterwards, which is to say many, many years, that has never happened before.

It's a general, well known rule that predators, no matter the kind, don't like witchers. Some domesticated ones, like dogs or birds˟, can be trained out of it, but cats had long since shown to be an incredibly effective witcher repellent. It's so known that for a while humans in bigger cities went a bit crazy with breeding the things until it turned into a plague. Most city mages ended up with the knowledge on how to safely castrate a cat and a full purse.

The cat on top of his horse was looking at him entirely too peaceful. While it had lifted its head when he entered, it didn't react further. Even now, when he enters the stall and therefore also the cat's personal space, its mood doesn't change. It blinks at him lazily out of big topaz eyes and watches him pet down Daphne.

As far as the old witcher can tell – he barely knows anything about cats – it's not a simple tavern stray. It looks too nice to be ever considered a stray. He wouldn't be surprised if it's one of the expensive ones. He may not know a lot about cats, but he knows how much some aristocrats are willing to pay for pets. The idea of having an animal around that's just there to look pretty and be friendly seems absolutely ludicrous to a witcher.

Even to him it's obvious that the cat is incredibly well cared for. If not because of its peaceful demeanor than because of the way it looks. Its fur is almost luxurious long and soft looking, though clearly made for a colder climate. It's colored a dark shade of brown with many black stripes down its sides and long, thick one that starts in its neck and goes all the way down to its tail. The eyes, big and round and watching him, are of a dark topaz coloration and if the color reminds him of his sons' eyes and makes him a bit emotional he would never dare admit that out loud.

The most prominent feature of the cat is its leather collar though. It was crafted with a lot of care and recently polished as it still has a bit of a shine to it. There's a little round metal coin hanging from it with a sparkling star engraved on it, not unlike the medallion witcher trainees wear before they receive their official wolf-head-medallion. Hanging above it is a little blue tear-drop shaped gemstone. Definitely an expensive cat that belongs to someone rich enough to put gemstones were they could easily be snatched. He almost expects his medallion to hum, indicating some form of tracking spell, but nothing.

The cat looks at his gloved hand when it comes closer to where it is lying on his horse but doesn't swat at it, doesn't hiss in warning, doesn't even turn its ears back. Instead it lets out a tiny, friendly sound, a 'mrrp' and curiously sniffs the leather of his glove.

Utterly baffled, the old witcher has to take a moment and steps out of the stall. He catches a glimpse of the stable hand, a growing boy hardly older than fourteen who's refilling a water through in the back and with a sharp whistle calls for the boy's attention.

The boy turns mid movement and looks at him wide eyed, “Ser?”

He nods his head towards Daphne's stall, “Have you seen the cat on top of my horse?”

The boy blinks at him and replies with a, “Yeser.”

“Who's cat is that?”

“'snot yours?” The boy's speech is slurred, his thick accent pulling at the words like they belong together. The kaedweni courts call it the accent of the peasant. Some times the old witcher adapts it just to annoy them.

“Ever seen a witcher with a damned cat?” He barks out, annoyed that the boy's short answers don't give him the information he wants. Not at all helping, the stable hand simply shrugs his lanky shoulders. “Never seeno witcher before,” he says.

“Then whos cat is it?” the witcher bites out, “Who else is in town?”

“None, ser. You an'the postmaster, but he's gotno cats. Make'm sneeze.”

“Any witches that have passed through recently? Some upper folk, a lord or lady perhaps?”

He shakes his head, “None, ser, 'swhy I thought the mouser's yours.”

Said mouser takes the opportunity to make itself known with a series of loud meows, strutting right towards the witcher and bumping its head against his boots, then sitting down next to him. Seeing this the stable hand shrugs again, “Looks like's yours now. 's always the mouser choosing.”

Apparently that ends the conversation for the boy, because he turns away and gets back to work, leaving a dumbfounded witcher staring down at fluffy brown cat that looks back up at him and blinks. He decides not to think about it too much, shakes his head to clear away the tangle of thoughts and turns back towards Daphne's stall.

The cat is right there in the stall with them as he saddles his draft horse. It follows him like a obedient puppy when he leads Daphne out of the stable and bumps its head against his boots when he checks his packs one more time. If it weren't for the fact that he doesn't feel a single drop of chaos on the cat he would have thought it to be some sort of creature or shape shifter. Even testing it with a piece of pure silver doesn't cause a reaction and it only yawns widely when he starts reciting chants that would have any form of devil screeching.

He feels almost relieved when he sees one of the barn cats walk around him with a wide berth and its ears plastered to its head. When he looks at it, it's eyes thin and it hisses at him. When he looks at the brown cat at his feet big topaz eyes look back at him. So it's just this cat that's weird. He can live with that.

What he can decidedly not live with is the fact that as soon as he's up in the saddle and ready to make his way back to Kaer Morhen, the cat lets out another mrrp and suddenly jumps up onto Daphne like it's done so a hundred times before. His mare doesn't react at all and so he watches a bit wide-eyed as the cat settles down between his legs and over the small bags that are tied to the front of the saddle. Then it starts purring and the only reason why he doesn't loose his shit is because he's in the middle of the town square.

He nudges his legs together and Daphne obediently trots into the familiar direction of home.