#welcome to stupid land population me

[blended-ice]

Holy shit team the Eric Cartman drip for baby JJ was intentional?

[reiding-writing]

HI LOVE UR WORK ESPECIALLY COLD READER IVE BEEN BINGING THEM AND I NEED MOREE

Soo speaking of i think prompt 15 could be a really cute cold reader prompt for something and I WOULD LOVE IT

HOMETOWN [CLIMACTERIC]

/ˌhəʊmˈtaʊn/

15. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

WARNINGS: fem!reader, mentions of spencer’s bullying, made up childhood bully (sorry spence <3), swearing as per, typical cold!reader antics

spencer reid x cold!reader || fluff?? || 3.0k || event masterlist!!

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ cold!reader masterlist!!

a/n: great minds think alike huh? the fact that both these requests specified for it to be cold!reader as well is insane to me 😭😭

There’s that saying that the worst people in school always end up going into jobs that provide for others; The idea that petty school bullies take up careers in hospitality or community service despite all of their obvious social flaws.

Honestly, Spencer always found the idea ridiculous. They had just as much of a chance as going into a hospitality job as they did a 9-5 office job.

Their attitude didn’t have any causational impact on their future career whatsoever, people just focused on the people that did end up in those fields and then generalised it to the larger population with no reasonable backing.

But he’d be lying if that wasn’t the first thing that ran through his head when he walked into station 14 of the LVMPD and ran right into somebody from his middle school.

Somebody who fit that god awful false idea to a T.

“We’ll get you set up asap, Robinson, DeGaris, show the agents to 22B will you?”

Spencer knew the second he turned around. Some people’s faces never really mature through puberty. The bone structure doesn’t change and they just end up looking like a taller version of their child self.

“Would you look at that? Looks like we’ve made it to the big leagues,” Officer DeGaris nudges his partner with a raise of his eyebrows, and Robinson shakes his head with a short laugh in response.

“More like we’re doing such a bad job they had to call in the big leagues,” Robinson pushes DeGaris’ head away with the palm of his hand before clasping his fists together at his waist. “Welcome to Las Vegas, land of casinos, neon signs, and… serial killers apparently— Uh I’m Caleb, this is Will, chances are you’ll see a lot of us over the next however long you’re here,”

“Pleasure,” Hotch holds out his hand to shake the two officers’, who promptly move to shake hands with the rest of the team afterwards.

By the time the two reach you and Spencer stood at the back of the group he feels like he might throw up his heart from how fast it was beating, and he swerves the shakes with all the awkwardness of his usual evasions as he excuses himself to walk ahead of the team.

It was stupid really. It had been almost two decades since what had happened, yet even just being in his proximity was making Spencer sweat like he was a final girl in a horror movie.

“Excuse us,” Your words hold no social grace as you slide past the two officers to follow after Spencer. He wasn’t the best with meeting new people, but he never left the conversation before it could even start. “Reid-”

Although mildly confused, the two officers don’t seem all that disheartened as the two of you disappear into the meeting room, their attention turning back to the rest of your team.

“Well,” Caleb claps his hands together with a politely awkward smile. “We’ll let you guys get settled in, if you need anything at all come and find one of us and we’ll do our best to get it for you,” He gestures between himself and Will stood next to him, gazing half-blankly into the open shutters of the window into the room with furrowed eyebrows at yourself and Spencer like he’s trying to put puzzle pieces together in his mind.

“Thank you officer, we will,” Hotch gives the two a small nod before gesturing the team into the room and leaving the two policemen outside.

—

At least the station had a coffee machine. Spencer’s one saving grace in the fact that he was not only working on a case in his own home city but also in the same town he grew up in, a town with some very familiar faces.

The scent of the caffeinated beverage was enough to bring him back to his right mind a little as it hit the ceramic mug with a burst of steam, and Spencer watched the liquid flow aimlessly as he waited for his drink to be made.

Coffee solved all his problems.

“Hey,”

Most of the time.

With a slow breath and his eyes shut to compose himself, Spencer turned around slowly to greet the voice, hit lips pressed into a straight line as his eyes opened once more, greeted with an all too familiar sight.

“I thought I recognised you Spencer, or sorry, it’s Agent Reid now right?” Will raised an eyebrow slightly, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

There was no real malice behind his tone, no sarcasm or taunting, no twitch in his facial expression that could make Spencer think he was trying to get under his skin. But he did. And it made Spencer feel like a 9 year old all over again.

“It’s uh, Doctor Reid actually,”

Will gives a short laugh and a nod, like Spencer’s title was something he’d expected. “Right, right, of course, so you’re not an FBI Agent then?”

“I am,” Spencer answers shortly, hands wringing together behind his back as he leans against the kitchenette counter. “But the title of Doctor outranks the title of Agent,”

He could see that familiar glint in Will’s eye as he explained the reasoning behind his official title, like he was looking at some puny know-it-all rather than a person of his own age.

“Very impressive,” Will gives him a slow, almost animated nod, and Spencer has never been more grateful for the shrill beeping of an automated coffee machine as he tears his eyes from Will to pick up his mug, cradling it between his to hands.

“Well, it was uh, good— to see you again Billy I’m glad you got where you wanted to go in life—“

“I don’t go by that name anymore,” Will crossed his arms over his chest with a shake of his head, his expression cordial despite the way his fists clenched like the mae had caused physical discomfort to him. “I go by Will now.”

“Right, Will, I should get back to my team now,”

“I’m sure they can wait a few minutes, we should catch up, for old time’s sake,”

—

“Where is Reid?” You exhale exasperatedly, biting your tongue to keep yourself in check as you turn towards Morgan and Emily with a show of your hands.

“Maybe the coffee machine was broken,” Emily shrugs nonchalantly as she sorts through the scene photos, occasionally passing one over the table towards you to hang up on the board.

“As if I needed any more reasons to hate those pieces of shit,” You groan exaggeratedly, dragging your hand down your face.

“Calm down lover, being away from the pretty boy for an extra few minutes won’t kill you,” Morgan rolls his eyes at your attitude with a short laugh, tapping his fingers against the table.

“Oh shut your mouth,” You scoff as you walk down the length of the table, pushing the heel of your hand against Morgan’s temple as you pass him as an extra form of chastisation which he promptly laughs at you for as you leave the room in search of Spencer.

“Oh to be young and in love,” Morgan laughs to himself as he clasps his hands together, leaning his head backwards over the chair to look at Emily with a knowing look.

“$50 on less than a year,” Emily doesn’t even look up at her proposition, and Morgan laughs with a shake of his head.

“Oh no no, they’re playing the long game, it’ll be at least another two,”

“Deal,” Emily holds her right hand out in Morgan’s direction, and he grasps it in his own with a firm shake.

“Deal.”

—

Spencer is still standing by the coffee machine, a steaming mug in his hands. It does not take eight minutes to make a single cup of coffee.

Well it wouldn’t if he wasn’t stood talking to one of the local police officers.

More like the officer was talking at him.

And if the way he was fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve was any indication, he was not enjoying the conversation.

If it weren’t for the harsh fluorescent lighting, the furrow of his eyebrows would be imperceptible from where you were standing, but the way he rolls his ankles and shifts his weight onto the balls of his feet would be noticeable from a mile away even in pitch black darkness.

Time to go and save Spencer Reid from his own social ineptitude. Again.

He doesn’t acknowledge you as you approach despite you clearly being in his eye line, his sole focus on the man in front of him even as you near close enough to be able to hear their conversation.

“…were quite the character weren’t you Pick?”

Spencer purses his lips together uncomfortably at the nickname, and you take the break in the conversation as an invitation to get between the two.

You clear your throat with crossed arms, eyes flickering between the two of them as they turn their attention away from each other and towards you instead.

“You’re needed back in the meeting room,”

Spencer nods at you a little too eagerly, clearly ready to rid himself of his new companion. “Right, good bye Bil- Will, sorry,” He doesn’t make eye contact with the officer as he all but power walks past you to head towards the meeting room, and your eyebrows furrow ever so slightly as your glance wanders from Spencer to the almost smug expression on the officer’s face.

“Is something funny?” Your question is enough to bring Will’s eyes away from watching Spencer scurry off with his tail between his legs and towards you with horribly feigned innocence.

The look in your eyes is less than savoury, and it’s enough that small glimpse of condescension simmers in his irises to break through his pleasant facade.

You don’t stick around to have to speak to him any further, and with a final look over you leave him by the coffee machine to rejoin the team in the meeting room.

—

“You can’t avoid him forever you know,”

Your voice stirs Spencer out of his focus, and he straightens himself up in his chair as he looks at you, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

You hadn’t really said anything since you re-entered the meeting room, not even bothering to defend yourself against Morgan’s musings about how much you were complaining about Spencer not being present to help you with the profiles, yet less than a minute after Morgan and Emily left, your conversational battery had suddenly returned.

“I— What do you mean?”

“Officer DeGaris,”

Spencer looks at you like you’ve read his diary without his permission.

He forgets just how observant you are sometimes, how easy it seems to be for you to distinguish between Spencer’s general dislike for small talk and meeting new people and when his discomfort is specifically aimed.

You look through the meeting room’s glass window with roaming eyes, Spencer presumes it’s to find the Officer in question. “He acts like a glorified man-child so I can’t blame you for resenting him,”

“Did he say something to you?” He sounds almost afraid at the idea that Will might’ve said something distasteful to you, his face scrunching up in concern, but you dispel the thought with a quick shake of your head.

“No, he didn’t say anything to me,” Spencer can physically see the moment that your eyes catch on Will across the station in the way that your micro expressions change, the way your arms cross tighter over your chest and your nostrils flare. “He was more than distasteful to you though,”

You sigh in mild frustration. “You’d think that people would mature once they reach adulthood, but there’s always a few that cling to their childhood relevancy like their life depends on it. Pathetic really,”

he doesn’t know whether he should even be entitled to being surprised that you knew Will was character from his childhood. It doesn’t stop him. “I never said I knew him when I was a child,”

“He called you Pick, and you called him Billy,” You deadpan like it’s obvious. “You’re not exactly hiding it,”

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” You can see the genuine befuddlement in Spencer’s expression as you relay the cluing details into his past, like he seemingly can’t comprehend that you were actually paying attention and storing Spencer’s divulgence into his childhood in your memories.

“Believe it or not Reid, I do actually listen,” You sound almost offended at how surprised Spencer seems, and he back tracks immediately with a surrendering wave of his hands.

“That’s not— I didn’t mean to insinuate that, I just meant—” Spencer sighs exasperatedly at his failure to string together a coherent sentence. “I only mentioned it offhandedly is all, it’s not something people usually dwell on,”

“It’s not difficult to listen when someone confides in you Reid, it’s basic human compassion,” You move away from the window with a start, stopping just shy of the door right as it opens.

“Can we help you?” The small amount of empathy in your tone vanishes immediately as you meet Will’s eyes, your head cocked in obvious impatience despite the fact that he hasn’t even spoken a word to you yet.

And although mildly deterred by your expression, he follows through nonetheless. “I need to speak to— Agent Reid, it’s something about the case.”

You’d wager it’s definitely not about the case.

“Doctor Reid is busy, if you have something important go and find SSA Hotchner,”

Spencer can’t see your expression as you stand with your back to him, but if he had to make a guess based off of the way that Will’s face falters he’d say you were probably glaring at him. That signature glare that you never hesitated to utilise when deemed a necessary reaction.

He’s half glad he can’t see your face, because it means that you can’t see his, and the way his cheeks redden against his will at not only your intervention between him having to have another conversation with one of the nightmares of his childhood, but also how casual you were in correcting his use of Spencer’s official title.

“I can’t find SSA Hotchner,” He responds like he’s got you beat, but you barely so much as acknowledge it at all.

“Email him then, your chief supervisor has the details.” You take a small step forward to motivate him to step backwards out of the doorway, and you uncross your arms only to grasp the edge of the door. “Now if you’d please excuse us, we do our best work without distractions.”

You don’t give him time to reply before you close on him, but there’s just enough time for Spencer to see the astonishment dawn on Will’s face at your dismissal before he’s shut out completely.

Your frustration is still present on your face as you turn to walk back over to the whiteboard, and Spencer presses his lips together in an awkwardly endearing fashion before muttering out a soft “thank you,” in your direction.

“I don’t tolerate bullies Reid, it’s nothing to be thankful for,” You shake your head to dismiss him, a much lighter—much friendlier— dismissal than you’d awarded Will.

”You didn’t have to do that though,” Spencer sighs softly, playing with the sleeves of his sweater. “Let me buy you a coffee at least? There’s a cafe a few minutes away from here that I used to go to when I was younger, and I think I need the break,”

You can’t really blame his sudden want for fresh air, and you’d rather not slave away on the profile without him to filter your thoughts through, so you don’t really have much option but to join him.

“It’s not one of those ridiculously expensive coffee places is it?” You raise your eyebrow at him warningly and Spencer shakes his head with a soft laugh, one your happy to hear as a sign that Will hadn’t knocked him off his game too much.

“No no, last time I was here it was $3.49 a cup, perfectly normal,” He brushes a strand of hair from his eye with a small smile. “So you’ll join me?”

You let out a small exhale and a shrug of your shoulders, and Spencer knows that you’re feigning more begrudgement than you’re feeling. “I guess I could do with a break,”

Spencer’s smile seems to get just that little bit brighter at your response.

“But I’m buying my own coffee.”

“Okay—” Spencer gives you a small nod, joined by a laugh, and you wait until he’s got his back to you before letting a small smile invade your mouth at the sight.

[newsfromstolenland]

White People Are Liars Sometimes (Usually)

It is virtually impossible to get white "Canadians"  to shut up about how welcoming and diverse Canada is.

Over the years, the Canadian state and the white majority population have cultivated a reputation for progressive politics and an inclusive culture. But what exactly is it like to live on this stolen land as a person of colour?

I'll let you in on a little secret: white people are liars.

When white people from other parts of the world think of Canada, they so often think of maple syrup and politeness, of silly looking RCMP officers in their stupid hats. This is because of lies and propaganda.

Propaganda that serves white Canadians operates uniquely in that it attempts to almost infantalize the image of the Canadian government and colonial occupation, while also claiming to be at the forefront of societal progress. It seeks to convince the world, and indeed the population of this land, that Canada is harmless, overly polite, a utopia of diversity, and something of an international pushover.

This could not be further from the truth.

Read the rest now on my patreon!

Support me via paypal!

[discar]

HZD Terraforming Base-001 Text Communications Network

Chapter 13 | Prev chapter | Next chapter Chapter Index

HIMBO: Aloy, did you ever meet up with Talanah again?

Zo: Where did this come from?

HIMBO: Kotallo and I were talking about Carja in the Clan Lands. I assumed they'd be killed on sight, but he says they're not.

Marshall Kotallo: They are hardly welcomed, but as long as they do not cause trouble, most outsiders are allowed to walk free.

FlameHairSavior: Her life would still be easier if she stopped wearing her Carja armor.

Marshall Kotallo: Tenakth armor is complex, and her lack of tattoos would give her away.

FlameHairSavior: She doesn't have to dress like a Tenakth, but even Oseram armor would be better.

FlameHairSavior: Anyway, the thing with Talanah got a little... tricky.

FlameHairSavior: Turns out she was looking for an old love, who was looking for HIS old love.

FlameHairSavior: She was supposed to be dead, but wasn't.

ForgeLordAleMaster: WAIT, TALANAH FAKED HER DEATH?

FlameHairSavior: What? No, the other woman was supposed to be dead.

Marshall Kotallo: Did your friend kill her? Perhaps change her mind at the last moment and send her into exile instead?

Zo: That idea seems to have come to you far too quickly.

Marshall Kotallo: [ShiftyEyes.png]

Marshall Kotallo: I will admit, not all Tenakth stories are about hunting and besting your foes in combat. Sometimes there is romance.

Marshall Kotallo: Usually involving fighting machines together.

HIMBO: Huh. Kotallo, remind me to show you these “romance books” I found. I think you might like them.

Zo: They're the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen.

ForgeLordAleMaster: [ForumWeaponLiteralSubjectChange.png]

ForgeLordAleMaster: WHY DID THIS WOMAN FAKE HER DEATH, ALOY?

FlameHairSavior: She didn't, she was pretending to be a man, and was serving in the Carja army. She was thought killed in an attack.

Marshall Kotallo: Why you people would cut off half of your population from serving in the military, I will never understand.

HIMBO: None of us are Carja.

Marshall Kotallo: Fair point.

FlameHairSavior: Anyway, she got captured, Fashav offered her a place as a soldier, she took it. She's been serving ever since.

FlameHairSavior:Then her fortress got captured and she got thrown into the prison.

HIMBO:But you cut through the enemy like dry grass, overthrowing an impregnable fortress by yourself.

ForgeLordAleMaster: AGAIN.

FlameHairSavior:  I had help! Talanah and her... whatever he is were there.

Zo: So Talanah's old love found his old love alive. Did they reignite their relationship? I am hardly an expert in Carja customs. What would be considered the right move in this situation?

FlameHairSavior: I have no idea what the Carja would normally do. The woman insisted she's Tenakth now and the Carja is dead. Talanah isn't sure how she feels about her old love any more. She's big on loyalty, so she might take him back, but I'm just not sure.

Marshall Kotallo: Varl, how would those romance books you found handle this?

HIMBO: I think about half wool have the protagonist pick the mysterious wandering heroine who arrived to help in the hour of greatest need.

ForgeLordAleMaster: HA!

Marshall Kotallo: And the other half?

HIMBO: The protagonist picks all of them. Everybody is happy.

ForgeLordAleMaster: ...DOES THAT WORK?

Zo: NO.

Marshall Kotallo: Sometimes.

ForgeLordAleMaster: HA!

β: im glad i dont have to worry about any of that

β: romance is weird and complicated and stupid

Zo: Don't be so sure.

Zo: Based on what I've read about your mother and observed about your sister, once you start going outside approximately ninety percent of the people you meet will fall in love with you.

Zo: I believe the term is “you'll have to beat them off with a stick.”

β: definitely never going outside then

FlameHairSavior: [ForumWeaponDisapprovalEye.png]

FlameHairSavior: Thanks, Zo.

Zo: ...oops.

Chapter 13 | Prev chapter | Next chapter Chapter Index

[joz-yyh]

Jailhouse Rock - For DDZine2023

SUMMARY: Already strapped of their senses, Damian and Tardif are assigned a special mission by the heiress. Now in a town far away from home, a mix of self-sabotage and hilarity lands them behind bars and while the flagellant is excited by the prospect, the bounty hunter needs a bit more convincing. Purely a crack fic (with a dash of spice). Read at your own risk.

RATING: T (violence / suggestive themes / swearing / hints of DD2)

PAIRING: Bounty Hunter x Flagellant

WORD COUNT: 4,097

READ ON Ao3: Here!!

READ ON DDZine: Here!!

A/N: So happy to have been able to take part in DD Art Zine 2023! Please go check out all the other great entries on the official website!!

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–

"This the place," Tardif asks his haggard companion, the pair walking through a treacherous mine of puddles plaguing the road.

"Think so," Damian replies loosely, appraising a signboard that reads, “The Crossings” that welcomes their arrival.

It was hard to see, especially with the gloomy conditions, a flash of lightning blazing across the night, illuminating the carved wood.

Judging by the skyline of shingled rooftops, the population was bigger than what they were used to, the modest accommodations of Hamlet easy enough to navigate around.

"Ye got the map don't ye," the bounty hunter grumbles, soured by the almost constant downpour of rain that had dampened their journey.

There was no use for a torch in such dreary weather, and though this town was advanced enough to offer enclosed street lamps, their weak gleam still struggles to survive the elements.

"What map," the flagellant remarks, a coyness that clearly shows he's probably misplaced it.

Tardif scoffs. The bastard is enjoying this, vexing him on purpose, doing everything he can to make it worse.

"Ye tellin' me ye lost the letter?"

Tardif must not have been thinking clearly (he really wasn't) to have left him in charge.

The heiress had sent them on this expedition just as soon as they returned from another, the brooding tactician unable to plan as he normally would, the stress threatening to consume his mind.

"Oh, the letter," enunciates the sing-songy voice, correcting his companion's word choice, "yes, I have it."

Damian slips scarred fingers into his robes, procuring the item in question for Tardif to see, the parchment erotically nestled around the grove of his inner thigh, no safer place for it.

"Good, make sure it stays that way," Tardif huffs, noting the sprinkle of droplets now darkening the paper.

"Of course," he concurs, putting it back in the same private quarters he found it.

Tardif's gaze lingers, watching it disappear back down the provocative sway of fabric. Stupid flagellant. Stupid weather. Stupid surprise mission.

He can never understand how he walks in these unbearable conditions. Even the bounty hunter's boots are soiled, almost soaked through, and Damian is traipsing around barefooted.

As they pass the wooden gates, the brute makes sure his steps are extra sloshy, splattering the flagellant with all the mud he can, trying not to think about the rain wreaking havoc on his armor, probably aiding in its rust.

The streets are almost barren thanks to the weather (still more lively than Hamlet's standards), but those who are out, braving the storm, address them with cold, judging stares.

A traveling mercenary and a flagellant are bound to stand out and Tardif admits he’d do the same towards any newcomers dressed as they are, but this curious speculation seems more odious than most.

"There! That's him," cries a balding innkeeper, pointing an accusing finger in their direction,

"Don't let him get away!'

Tardif is under the assumption the frantic loon of a man (his actions making Damian appear sane by comparison), might be insinuating him of all people, but that just couldn't be, wouldn't be possible.

As villainous a reputation as his mask bore, not even he could commit a crime that quickly.

The bounty hunter strides ahead, not about to involve himself in petty domestic affairs, having more important matters to attend to.

"My, they're quite friendly here, aren't they," the flagellant chirps in his partner's ear, smiling at the swarm of angry faces threatening bodily harm.

"Not everyone gets their rocks off from pain, ye know," Tardif gripes, almost slipping in muck.

"They should. The world might become a better place," the flagellant counters, imagining a bloody parade of devout apostles flogging in the streets.

The mercenary scoffs. For him maybe it would be, but Tardif isn't about to get sucked into an ideological debate.

"Where we goin' again," the bounty hunter asks, distracted by the mob at his back, mapping out an escape route just in case.

"The manor house," the hooded priest supplies, leading them toward the big white pillars in the distance.

Tardif sees it, doesn't like how much ick he'll have to trudge through to get there. Why do these wealthy types always have to live on a blasted hill?

"Right, knew that," the mercenary spits, his memory conveniently returned, "got sidetracked."

The holy man doesn't question him and despite their heated pace (he won't admit that he's been following Damian's lead), the throng of activists persist, nipping at their heels.

“Look, he's wearing the mask," spouts the persistent inquirer, leading the uproar, "it’s the same guy who beat me half to death!"

Whoever beat him over the head didn't do it hard enough. If they had, he'd be properly unconscious right now and Tadif wouldn't be dealing with this quagmire.

The huntsman flips through his mental lineup of bounties, revisiting old marks. He always remembers a face, especially when it concerns business and he does not, for the life of him, recognize this whackjob of a man.

"Someone you know," the flagellant teases.

"Ye think yer funny, don't ye," the bounty hunter gripes, side-eyeing him, not at all amused.

Damian grins, relishing the admission. "I do."

Judging by the uniforms assembling a perimeter ahead, the authorities have gotten involved, sealing off the road and dwindling their options for escape.

Shit.

"What do you suggest we do," the flagellant asks, hoping Tardif wouldn’t resort to mutiny.

As much as he would love to turn this into an all-out brawl, he reserves to be passive just this once (for Damian's sake).

"Just keep movin'. Follow my lead."

The bounty hunter tactfully steers them down a side alley, but before he can reach for the fuse of his flashbang, a shadow leaps out, subduing him from behind.

"Get yer bloody hands off me," the mercenary shouts, kicking and flailing with sharp jabs of his elbows.

It's not often Tardif comes across a thug more burly than himself, but he has to give the son of bitch credit, not many were ballsy enough to attempt a full nelson on a trained killer.

You'd think that Damian would do something to alleviate their current predicament, but the masochist is lost in a daze, the horde of townsfolk closing in.

"You thought you could rip me off,” the innkeep asserts, the first to arrive on the scene, spouting more slanderous drivel, “well tough shit. I know your name, Mack!"

"That ain't my damn name," Tardif snarls, resisting arrest, but despite his best efforts, his captor will not budge.

"You think I'm that stupid," his naysayer declares, getting in his face, "You want us to believe that there are a bunch of guys going around wearing the same mask as you?"

"They haven't got a name fer how stupid ye are," Tardif snarls under his breath, wanting to kick his ugly mug clean off.

Standing on his metaphorical soapbox, the alleged victim turns to his audience, pleading his case for all to hear. "Bastard would rather kill a man than pay for his tab! Stole my horse to make his getaway and now he’s back for more!"

The crowd murmurs, fear-mongering abound, the authorities seemingly convinced by this riling testimony.

This drunkard must have a personal vendetta against him. Why else incite the masses?

"And who's he supposed to be," the cue-ball with a ponytail demands, indicating Damian with an unimpressed sneer, "Your backup?"

"Damian, tell them," the bounty hunter growls, craning his neck towards the good for nothing flagellant who so far hasn't lifted a finger in his defense.

Finally, the priest snaps into action.

"No, wait," the hooded man intervenes, holding out a placating hand, stepping up to the front line, "You must take me too. I am his accomplice. We'll go quietly."

Tardif stares at him in disbelief, eyes as wide as saucers, too shocked to even breathe.

"Are ye mad," the mercenary barks, "Wot the hell are ye doin'?!"

Through the slits of his visor, Tardif watches on as the flagellant wrists are shackled by a group of lawmen, his deranged companion mouthing the words, "trust me."

Trust him?

Oh, no — they're not just screwed, they're utterly fucked.

The bounty hunter wilts, losing his will to fight back, the two heroes escorted to the nearest jail to await their completely fair and unbiased trial.

----

"Make yourselves at home," the warden tells them, unlocking Tardif's handcuffs through the bars, "you're going to be here awhile."

The bounty hunter rubs the life back into his wrists once he's free, remembering all the reasons why he hated being dressed in irons.

To his right, he listens, watching as Damian is released from his binds, the key making a distinct windup as it twists open.

This "jailer" of theirs seems to be a greenhorn by the looks of it, probably assigned to a task he's sorely unqualified for, simply filling in an empty post, and to top it all off, he's distracted. Tardif takes note of all these details. Especially, the fact of how incredibly tired the young man is, carrying the smell of drink and debt on him like cheap perfume.

Should be easy to manipulate if they play their cards right, Tardif assuming the part of a perfect inmate up until the guard removes himself from the room, blissfully out of sight.

Forget everything else, right now, all Tardif wants to do is to give that religious fool a piece of his mind.

"Some mister righteous, ye are," the huntsman barks, jabbing his companion's scarred chest with a reprimanding finger, "Aren't ye supposta seek truth and justice and all that?!"

"How else were we to sort this out," the flagellant reasons, gritting his teeth, "Do you want another parading around as you, branding you as a thief?"

"Coulda helped me beat them all up," the mercenary growls, pissed that things didn't go exactly that way, "coulda done our business n' left."

"I sorely doubt that. Given our apparent reputation, do you think the mayor would believe us? Any request we made would have been denied."

"Coulda shown them the letter," propounds the bounty hunter, but it seems Damian has a rebuttal for that too.

"It matters not. They were in no state to listen. Only our confession would have pacified them."

"That's bullshite speculation and ye know it."

The two continue to stare each other down, exchanging bluffs of opposition until the mercenary sighs in defeat. Arguing with his confounding logic was a waste of time.

"Make yerself useful and help me look fer a way out," Tardif grumbles, stepping away from their debate and toward where the bed and the wall meet.

Kneeling down, gloved hands pry at the straw lining the brick, testing for a weak spot while Damian drags his feet, meandering towards an alluring set of chains suspended along the adjacent wall.

He runs passionate fingers down the length of them, inspecting their quality, a delightfully wicked idea coming to mind for their use.

"Tardif," the flagellant calls softly, but the man in question pays him no mind.

"Tardif," he echoes again, a little louder this time, but still to no avail.

"TARDIF!"

Snarling, the bounty hunter drops what he's doing, standing to his full imposing height as he faces the holy man with murderous intent, "Wot the bloody hell do ye want?!"

"I got stuck," the flagellant replies simply, a finger indicating one of his wrists now manacled above his head

"Ye fuckin' idiot," the bounty hunter huffs, anger transforming into laughter, muffling the sound inside his glove.

"Aren't you going to come over here and untie me," the flagellant suggests, his voice an obvious lure to entice him closer.

With pouty lips, the kinky sidekick yanks on the chain to show the extent of his helplessness, selling it further, whimpering like a pathetic mutt.

Even as he approaches his prey, Tardif knows he's in for something dangerous. Damian was predictably unpredictable, but that's what he liked about him, the thrill of never knowing what to expect.

The mercenary glares at him, his helmet practically touching the skin of Damian’s crooked nose, daring him to try something as he reaches up to unlock the shackle pinning him in place.

Clack.

He shouldn't be surprised when his wrist is ensnared by the remaining metal clasp, now a twin to his partner, but he is.

"Wot the hell are ye doin," he grumbles, outraged that the deviant priest had bound him as well.

"Helping you focus," the flagellant grins, arching forward, brushing their lower halves together.

"Is that what ye call it," the bounty hunter snorts, not completely opposed to the compromising position they find themselves in.

The baggage of their last excursion still lingers, eating away at him, making him more baited than a pint of ale and he needs something to take the edge off.

"Mmmm-hmmm," the flagellant drawls, putting a knee in between Tardifs legs just a little too roughly, making the brute growl in warning.

The axeman pitches forward, catching himself with a leather glove against the wall. His breathing has turned heavy, this proximity tantalizing.

Should he play Damians game? It’s probably not the best idea to encourage him, but to see a man of Light, usually so demure, suddenly flaunt himself for the taking is an intriguing sight to behold.

Rather than reaching for a means to pick the lock, set himself free, the brute hooks his hand around the sash of his partner’s waist.

"That's it," the flagellant goads him, a bandaged calve wrapping itself around his partner’s belt,

"I'll make it easy for you."

"Coulda done this back home," comes his chastising remark, but his voice is winded, defeated.

"But we're not at home," the priest purrs, adding the other leg, squeezing the bounty hunter with both, bringing him flush, "Are you really going to wait? Wouldn't you rather punish me now?”

Tardif scoffs indignantly, rolling his eyes, "'course yer turned on. Startin' to think ye had somethin' to do wit' all this."

"Please, I am just as innocent as you are,” Damian tells him, a coy little smirk working it’s way onto his lips, spelling trouble, “but seeing as we're both stranded here, shouldn't we seize the opportunity?"

"Should be workin' on an escape plan,” the mercenary sighs, reiterating their priorities, pliant to the solicitation despite his words.

"I assure you, I am working on one right now," he says, using his free hand to pull down the brute’s cowl. He does so with languid movements, allowing the bounty hunter time to intervene if he so desires.

He doesn’t.

Breath a heated temptation between them, Damian leans forward, connecting their mouths.

The brute presses back the moment he does, hard enough to force his partner’s head back into the brick, a noticeable impact, the masochist groaning into their kiss.

Lucky for them, their unassuming bailiff returns just in time to spy the nefarious plot taking root.

"Hey! Knock it off," he calls, banging on the bars, trying to dissuade the prisoners from their suspicious proclivities.

“Should we stop,” Damian asks in a hushed whisper, training his peripheral vision on their irked overseer.

“Not until he opens the lock,” the bounty hunter whispers against parted lips.

“Hmm, I don't think I want him to,” the flagellant chuckles, the sound rumbling in his throat, his scarred mouth pulled into a smile.

A crimson hand tangled in the fabric of his partner's cowl, Damian pulls him back in for another round of vicious kisses. Tardif worries for his disguise, thinking his lover might rip it to shreds if he's not careful, but then again, that seems secondary to the rampant stroke of their tongues.

With the two troublemakers keen on defying orders, the jailer fumbles with his keys, trying to open the cell door before their undulation escalates any further.

“Move on my signal,” the bounty hunter tells him, resisting the tug of arousal.

“Now,” the flagellant gasps as their cell creeks open.

“Now."

BOOOOOOOM !!

Just as Tardif gives the word, an explosion of stone follows, disorienting clouds of dust and debris piling into the room, the very foundation around them rattled to its core.

As the rubble settles, the blunt head of a battering ram can be seen breaching the side of the building, demolishing metal and brick, creating a sizable hole.

"Someone call for backup," Barristan says through the fog, resting his mace upon his shoulder, his pose statuesque.

Boudica's fierce silhouette cuts in after him, occupying the space beside the old man with a powerful howl, "KREEEE-YAAAAAA! What a rush!”

The jailman is stunned, realizing with abject horror these unpredictable events were above his pay grade. “This is crazy,” he shrieks before running off, seeking reinforcements.

"I'll go silence our whistleblower," deems the soldier, stepping down from the dock, off to fulfill his duty.

"You sure you're fast enough, *skilpadda," Boudica taunts, chaos still ringing in her decorated ears.

The man at arms laughs, loud and hearty. "Been hunting down stragglers long before your time, girl. Just watch me!"

His weapon crackling to life, electrifying his mustache, the veteran takes off with a speed that invigorates his age and the hefty armor plate he bears.

“Damian, tell me I am dreamin',” Tardif grumbles, fearing he'd finally lost himself to delusion.

“You're definitely not,” he assures, just as surprised, "that was quite the signal you gave. You must teach it to me."

Tardif snorts, his attention divided, eyes landing on the prostrate lump by the hellgirl's feet, "Must be dreamin'. That sad bastard looks like me."

“Yes, I can see him too,” the flagellant nods, the impersonator clad in a near-perfect rendition of his costume.

Must be none other than his evil half, the cheapskate doppelganger that the inkeep was yacking on and on about.

“We ran into him on our way here,” Boudica informs them, kicking the fraud’s unconscious body off the wooden slab, “Thought he was you. Convinced him to tell us everything.”

Well, that’s one mystery solved.

"Tolda ya that wasn't me,” the brute says under his breath, just loud enough for his partner to hear, fearing the same tragic fate, “I never woulda talked.”

The morbid priest seems to agree, despite the palpable sweat breaking out under Tardif’s gear.

As the imposter's listless bulk rolls into the cell, sandals stomp onto his backside, the female barbarian asserting her dominance, both Damian and Tardif flinching as she approaches them next.

"I should gut you *svín where you stand,” she says, a harsh grimace, reaping their punishment.

"Not my fault the bloody flagellant got us thrown in here," Tardif spits, impressing all his weight against the man in question, putting as much distance between him and the hellion as possible.

Hands on her hips, Boudica throws her head back and laughs, one loud booming crack, "Ha! All you *fífl managed to do was make a mess of everything."

“What of the mission,” the flagellant asks, poking his head out, goal-oriented despite the circumstances, “Were you able to talk terms?”

“Barristan bartered for supplies. A steep price considering the damages.”

“Wot damage,” the bounty hunter growls, brows knotted in anger for being framed for yet another scandal.

The hellion smirks, gesturing her fur fisticuffs at the destruction all around them, “this damage.”

Done with her lengthy exposition, the braided woman takes up her glaive, both men shirking away, intimidated by what she intends to do with it.

"Don't move," she advises, aiming for their chains.

It’s not often Tardif seeks the Light’s protection, but he closes his eyes and prays, staying stock still until he and Damian are liberated from their restraints.

“AAAKLYORAAAHHH,” the exiled warrior cries, severing the links with a barbaric yap.

The bounty hunter exhumes the stale breath in his lungs, patting himself down from the spark of adrenaline, accounting for all his limbs while Damian seems disappointed with the lack of amputation.

"What are you waiting for,” Boudica calls, already boarding their ride home, “I need you to drive.”

Damian and Tardif make no effort to move, but for very different reasons.

One man has grown attached to their surroundings and wants to stay.

The other is still too awed by the bizarre string of circumstances, lacking the coherence to act on her command.

Boudica's dark chestnut eyes narrow, the grip on her weapon tightening, incensed by their goosenecking.

"Board the getaway wagon right now," the valkyrie warns, her dark lips curling around a snarl, "or I will feast upon your *böllur."

This proves to be quite the persuasive technique, the boys jumping onto the wheeled contraption to save themselves from the hack of her blade.

----

It’s sunset by the time they report back to the heir's estate, the overcast conveniently clear.

Barristan, Damian, Tardif, and Boudica are lined up before the antique desk of their employer's office, their formation serving a higher purpose. It was a rarity in itself to come face to face with their mysterious benefactor, a clear indication of how badly the two degenerates wedged in the center had failed in their duties.

The heiress sets down her reading glasses, finished with the neighboring correspondence, her mouth set into a grim line.

"Do you have anything to say in your defense," she prompts, a forced air of stately composure. Tardif takes the opportunity to size her up, noting how she appears older, matronly despite her youth, how she continues to stare behind heavy eye makeup, awaiting an explanation from him.

He speaks bluntly.

"Sorry, Damian got horny and fucked everythin' up," he shrugs, trying to get a rise out of her ashen face, "Ye should punish him, he likes it when ye do that. I ain't takin' none of the blame."

Damian turns to his partner, astounded by this callous declaration, his scarred mouth opening to protest.

With a fist around his collar, Boufica swiftly reins him back in, suffocating his response.

"Oh, you won't be going anywhere,” the regal woman declares, expression stern and unreadable.

"Wot," the bounty hunter deadpans, his temper ignited. Aristocracy be damned, he’s not about to let anyone push him around, regardless of what their signed contract says.

The heiress stands, fully clad in gothic ruffles, lacey stockings and gloves to match.

"You two will be staying here with me in the manor,” she portends, boots clacking on the wood as she circles around to face them, “waiting on me hand and foot, tending to my every whim."

She swipes her dainty finger along the desk, rubbing away the film of dust between her thumb.

"Yer jokin’," Tardif wagers, attempting to call her bluff, but she merely smirks.

"On the contrary. Consider it a training exercise," the heiress drawls, velvet hat and veil unable to hide her glee, "Boudica, please show them their uniforms."

The hellion is more than happy to oblige. She hands the second hanger to Barristan, the garment clearly meant for Damian, its contents hidden beneath a stark white sheet.

The two corroborating warriors synchronize the unveiling, lifting up the cover in a flute of effervescent surprise. There, in black and white, was a pair of objectionable high-skirted, degrading poofy-sleeved, bow-in-the back maid outfits.

Tardif thinks now is a good time to shrivel up and die.

Damian, on the other hand, seems thrilled.

"Over my dead body. I ain't wearin' that."

"Yes, you are," the group vouches, their voices meeting unanimously.

Tardif heats up under his helmet, underestimating his popularity. It's a complicated emotion, one part ego boost, one part crippling emasculation to know that everyone in the room wants to see him dressed up in such servile fashion trends.

At least he'll witness Damian in one of these frilly things too, splitting the shame, (if the masochist would even consider it that). Still, the mercenary would have preferred an ensemble that came with a pair of britches instead.

"The mask stays on," the brute stipulates, snatching the dress out of Boudica's hands while the hellgirl snickers at his misfortune.

"A small price to pay,” the patron lady permits, sending both Boudica and Barristan along with them to the fitting rooms to assure their compliance.

As the heir eagerly awaits their return, she rifles through a bucket list of chores. Perhaps, scrubbing the floor on their hands and knees to start with, then running her a nice hot bath before finally preparing her a candlelight dinner.

Who's to say what will happen in between, but the night will end with them tucking her into bed, wishing her goodnight with a doting peck on each curve of her rosy cheeks.

{Finis}

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–

(*Rough translation notes for Boudica's Old Norse tongue: skilpadda = turtle / svín = swine / fífl = idiots / böllur = balls)

[rcvanchist]

The makeshift sickbay of the starharbour was located in the Hangar, obviously mostly used as a quarantaine-station and medical checkpoint to avoid any spacers dragging in any sicknesses that could be dangeoruse for the harbours population and the tradingnetwork it had build up. It was an uncomfortable bright lightened room with old, worn down biobeds and of age so loud buzzing medical machines that the medical tools seemed to growl. When the door shifted open, the Tynnan looked up from the Datapad she had been reading about one of her patients and rather tieredly walked over to the newcomer:  “Well, hello, welcome to the kriffing kingdom of a sickbay of which I, Ziv Odiz’zee- dipenser of Medicine, kriffing duchess of the biobeds, lady of the perpetual stomachache, guardian of the spacesicknesspills, Involuntary lust-object of -when I look at the content of my holonet-work-mail - around half of  the emotionally frustrated spacers here in this room-”, somewhere behind Ziv one of the pilots laying in one of the biobeds and who clearly had heard every word, hasty put away a datapad on which they had been writing a mail: “, -am the kriffing queen of. What can I do for you? If its spacesickness just turn your head towards your left ear , grab a kriffing bucket and I will be there for you in around five minutes as soon as I have knocked out the insomniacs who-” ears flicking irritated she rose her voice so a few patients could hear her clearly: “-were so kriffing stupid thinking that they could power through a twelve hour flight by using kriffing stimulants without consulting me first and who are now fourthy hours awake with no kriffing end in sight.” Her colourless pelt bristling like from electricity the woman looked over her shoulder to a group of spacers whos quiet discussion promptly stopped. Then, slowly and a lot of more annoyed, the Tynnan turned back to her new visitor: “Okay, no, really, welcome to the sickbay, pup, what can I do for you?” @irrfahrer

Revan could honestly not tell anyone what exactly he was doing here in this starport since he didn't know the reason himself. After leaving the Jedi Knight who had released him from his imprisonment (what was their name again?), he'd declined to head to the (current?) Jedi Temple. He'd had vague ideas about eradicating the Sith, but had gotten a sharp migraine every time he thought too hard about it so had taken to wandering around aimlessly.

Unfortunately, those migraines didn't confine themselves to dark thoughts and no amount of Force healing was stopping it. He'd been getting them more and more frequently, enough that he sought out the first medbay he could the moment the ship he'd been on had landed.

He hadn't expected the waterfall of words pouring from a small furry sentient. Revan vaguely recognized her species but couldn't name it.

"Pup?" he mumbled, a bit dazed from the pounding in his head and trying to make sense of the words. "Do you have something for head pain...?"

[raining-dreams]

Best quotes from House of Anubis

Mick: We’re mates not dates

Amber: moo baa wolf quack meow

Fabian: I couldn’t get in the bread oven

Jerome: she started using your name in the past tense

Fabian: I had an excuse which I’ve completely forgotten… don’t worry, it was brilliant

Amber: sorry this is far more important ~ Joy: what’s more important? ~ Amber: we’re playing hopscotch

Eddie (referring to Fabian because of the hopscotch): what a chump ~ Patricia: he’s got 2 girls desperate to hang out with him.. who’s the chump?

Jerome: if you’re lost, the 80s are that way

Amber: if you had a computer big enough, could you explode the internet?

Patricia: who keeps a sister a secret? Weird. ~ Also Patricia: (while pointing at her identical twin) I have never seen this girl before in my life

Jerome: Joy’s learned to spell at last! Hooray!

Eddie: I kissed Patricia- ~ Fabian: *gasp* and now you’re a zombie!!

Eddie (talking to (Fabian): Patricias’s the still the one right? ~ Alfie (talking to Fabian): I think Patricia might be the one! [Patricia enters as Fabian exits] ~ Fabian (talking to Patricia): stay away from me

Jerome: what have you got there? Please, please don’t tell me what I know you’re going to tell me ~ Alfie: you said you wanted a wild goose chase, so I got a wild goose

Patricia: Rufus is a fruit loop

Jerome: I am not scared of you guys. ~ Patricia: we were thinking more about Rufus. ~ Jerome: him, I’m scared of

Amber: Poppy’s wearing a necklace around her neck. ~ Jerome: seems logical Amber, that is where you wear them

Patricia: read between the lines! ~ Eddie: I don’t know what the lines are!! There are no lines!

Mr. Sweet: your opponents have set a match date for 3 days time ~ Jerome: but that’s only 3 days away!

[Amber sits in Jerome’s lap because she can’t see] Jerome: …good morning ~ Amber: …what? A girl can’t sit on her friend’s knee anymore?

Jerome: it’s like Megan Fox taking over for Marge Simpson. I said that out loud, didn’t I?

Alfie: sit back and prepare to be amazed ~ Jerome: good amazed or bad amazed? ~ Alfie: ehh, amazed amazed

Patricia: so, do you wanna go on a date with me or what? ~ Jerome: I’m gonna have to go with or what. ~ Patricia: why? ~ Jerome: because you’re as rude as I am and whilst I have no proof, I’m pretty sure you’re a witch.

Eddie: come on, you’re killing me! What do I have to do to get a reaction?! [Patricia kisses him] that’ll work

Jerome: remind me, we left the goose in plain sight on the bed, didn’t we? ~ Alfie: yeah ~ Jerome (sarcastically): Good. Because for a moment there, I was worried Victor wouldn’t find him!

Eddie: spaghetti bolognese. I invented it. ~ Joy: oh, Eddie, someone’s already invented spaghetti bolognese

Alfie: welcome to we love Mara land, population=Jerome

Amber: thou art truly the yummiest boy I have ever seen

Patricia: stupidity leak

Eddie: Jerome said don’t talk ~ Piper: very wise of… Jerome ~ Eddie: just smackaroo ~ Piper: smacka-what now?!

Joy: what’s going on with you and Patricia? The put downs, the dancing.. have you got a thing for her or what? ~ Eddie: what did she say? ~ Joy: nothing.. ~ Eddie: NOTHING?!?! ~ Joy: wow, you really need to learn to play it cooler

Victor: it is 10 o’clock, you have 5 minutes precisely and then I shall want to be able to hear a pin drop [drops pin]

Eddie: I’ve lowered my force field, schwoop

Alfie: do you think she’ll prefer flowers or an adoption certificate for a baby vulture? ~ Jerome: if you don’t know the answer to that you’re going to be single forever

Amber: Nina says it’s a real page turner. ~ Ms. Andrews: yes, that’s a dictionary, Amber

Eddie: how does it feel to have your life in my hands? ~ Patricia: I’d feel safer on the deck of the titanic ~ [Eddie makes Patricia fall on purpose] Eddie: I knew you’d fall for me

Alfie: falls off his chair in amazement

Fabian: it was an accident! ~ Amber: fell on Joy’s lips, did you?

Eddie: I’m just a tin can standing in front of a tank asking her to dance with me

Willow: to squee or not to squee

Patricia: Eddie Kreuger? ~ Eddie: *laughs* I think you mean Freddie. Freddie Kreuger. ~ Patricia: whatever, you’re still a nightmare

Alfie: Amber, I’m breaking up with you ~ Amber: no.

Jerome: Fabian, don’t they both look stunning? ~ Fabian: *stuttering* I- I- I think everything’s stunning

[lasquadrasfuckhouse]

Hi!

What do you think about la squadra(separately) with s/o that is very childlish? Like, not a little child ofc, they can get serius when it has to be, and they talk ,like, normally (without "owo uwu" shit). They just loooove some cute things, animals etc. They also love watching cartoons, play games, and many other things likke that.

If you don't want to write it that's okay :)))

Bye bye <3

awwww i love it!!!!!

la squadra with a cutesy and playful partner 😚

risotto ✂️

he loves cute things too, he gets it. he adores how excitable and sweet you are and you absolutely count as cute things that he loves

the two of you will fawn over the neighbourhood cats together and every time you run into his office with fun shaped snacks to share cause u both love them (like gummies or cookies or chocolates) his heart goes ❤️❤️❤️❤️💕❤️💕❤️❤️💕💕💕

he appreciates that you're not afraid to get serious when the time calls for it too but seeing you without your normal attitude is so jarring and sad for him, he'll work twice as hard to fix what's wrong to see you smiling again. you're so full of love and wonder despite everything and that's so precious to him, he's protective (he knows and respects that you can handle yourself he just loves u) and would never want you to change for the wrong reasons ya kno

you absolutely balance each other out very well and you're fucking adorable to see because he's so stoic and scary and then ur this energetic sweetheart

he's not really one for cartoons or video games but he'll indulge ur interests!!! if he has the time to watch a cute movie with u (like disney) he will pay attention and give u his honest opinion

prosciutto 🚬

OPPOSITES ATTRACT HUH

honestly when you first joined the team he was an ass about it, thought it was unbecoming of an assassin to behave so childishly (the others already give him a headache) but the fact that you stood your ground actually really impressed him. you're still an adult and you're not unreasonable, you know when to take things seriously, you just have your eccentricities like everyone else in this circus and he came to appreciate your point of view and your seemingly boundless enthusiasm for nice things in life. he later expressed as much to you during his apology for being an ass.

you temper each other. he'll be your grounding force and you'll help him loosen up

he does like how ur sweet and open with your affection. if he grumbles about sharing the bed with plushies that's code for 'cuddle me instead'

he also loves bringing you to cafés that do those fancy or fun shapes in the lattes cause he loves to see your eyes light up and fawn over how 'its almost too pretty to drink!!!' it's really quite adorable how excitable u are and prosciutto is not immune to it

pesci ����

he very very much loves and appreciates it, you're a big comfort to him. the instant you chugged milk with him and gave him a silly grin with a milk moustache, he was in love

your sweetness and energy picks him up and when you've dropped your attitude he will take on the WHOLE WORLD to hear you laugh again. he's very protective and he's the first to jump to your defense if the others tease you or otherwise give you a hard time

he could listen to you gush for hours. he will absolutely sit and watch cartoons with u. he's not the greatest at video games but he'll try his best for u

because of his name you'll often lovingly make that cute fishy face at him with the kissy lips and ur eyes crossed and his heart explodes every time

he has somewhat of a sweet tooth, he likes things that have a light sweetness to them rather than anything super sugary. you'll share desserts and it's very cute

formaggio 🧀

he LOVES IT. he's just as fun-loving, there's never a dull moment with you two whether you're playing a dumb game you made up out of boredom, you're dancing and he's twirling you around, or ur in a pillow/tickle fight and play wrestling. you tend to get each other into trouble but you both snicker about it. two peas in a pod.

cats like you more than they like him but he can often get his pets in if the kitty is curled in ur lap and u both get giddy about it

you definitely game together. he's not as into the cartoons but he'll still watch em with you, he thinks they're cute and you're cute, but he may fall asleep during movies

he's a very grounding support when things require you to be serious, you work together hand in hand to solve the issue so u can get back to laughing

and he will do anything to hear u giggle, doesn't matter if he makes a damn fool of himself, he doesn't care. as far as he's concerned your laugh is the best sound in the world

illuso ✨

oh, he will tease you about it. probably in a way that's kind of mean when you first join, but you aren't bothered by him or concerned with his opinion. if you point out that he's the childish one for trying to get a rise out of you when you're just minding your own business, that has EVERYONE appreciating you because it's unbearably fun to see illuso taken down a notch. that has him huffing and retreating for a bit and having a think. when he comes back, he's less of an ass. as you grow closer, he apologizes.

now the only way he teases is gentle and loving and fond, because you really are quite adorable and he wouldn't have it any other way. it honestly kind of freaks him out when you get serious but he doesn't show it, he'll just place a gentle hand on your arm or your waist and work with you to resolve the issue. he's relieved when you smile again

he warms up to your plushies because they're nice cozy additions to his piles of pillows for lounging around on and they make u happy

he may keep up his aloof air when he picks up a controller with u or watches over ur shoulder like he has nothing better to do but he gets REALLY into it and competitive, or intensely supportive and backseat gaming if ur going solo

he honestly loves how sweet u are because that sort of thing doesn't really come easy to him

melone 🍈

he thinks ur absolutely adorable and makes sure u know it. he's playful too in a more relaxed sort of way so he mellows you out while still having fun

he loves to hear you gush and wants to get involved in ur passions. he's pretty good at gaming but he'll get more into admiring/analyzing the design aspect of it and same w/ cartoons, he's concerned for all the babies out there because they deserve good stories that make them think and benefit their growth and he will think out loud about how a show/movie fares in that regard after you've watched it together

he can talk a lot about animals with u too!!!! every time u grin or coo at a cute creature or Stay Very Still so a butterfly will land on u and giggle cause it tickles, his heart is doing backflips and he can't believe someone as wonderful as u exists and loves him as much as he loves you

ADULT COLOURING BOOKS!!!!! he absolutely loves to fill in the pages with u and add onto the designs outside the lines in all sorts of colours

he admires that ur not afraid to get serious when it's called for but still so sweet, he's so drawn to you and you make everyone's day better and just light up the room

ghiaccio ❄️

he also loves cute things. that includes u. but it will take him a while to admit out loud how adorable you are because he's flustered about it

forget normie relationship milestones like moving in together, the moment u both started slowly familiarizing your plushie collections to each other, swapping or gifting ones u saw and HAD to get for them or keeping two of them together because they're friends now Do Not Seperate!!!!, he knew this was Real

one of his favorite pastimes is sharing a big big cozy sweater with u, it doesn't matter if it's a bit tight with two people in it or that ur faces are squished together, he'll wrap his arms around u (if u haven't already put ur hands in the sleeves too) and cuddle u against him like a fluffy, snuggly, grumpy cat. welcome to sweater town, population u and ghiaccio

ur both very into pokemon too. you'll spend hours with ur heads bent together over ur gameboys with each other's companion games for that generation and help each other with trading and version exclusives

he's the first to yell at anyone for teasing you and he honestly gets a little freaked out when you go serious but he won't show it. he'll want to address the problem as quickly as possible tho and discreetly hug u when ur giggling again

sorbet and gelato 🔪🍦

THEY LOVE IT UR ADORABLE. they're both playful in their own ways (sorbet is more chill and dry wit sort of playful, gelato is no impulse control and hyena cackling sort of playful) and they love to have fun with u

it's also like.... the world is fucked up and they're both kinda fucked up (more than kinda), and they know you're not like an innocent baby or at all incompetent (hell, you may be kinda fucked up too, who isn't when ur an assassin) but it's just. nice to see someone else having fun and being sweet and enjoying things about life. so they are very protective of you when things get serious, they never EVER want to see you become embittered and will do absolutely anything to get you laughing again as soon as possible. which, guaranteed, they do

gelato has always had a short attention span so he knows what to do for entertainment and sorbet knows how to entertain, he may be the more patient one but they both like to mix things up and keep the surroundings interesting. they will play all sorts of games with u, video games or card games or stupid shit like beer pong or making a game of how many marshmallows u can each fit in ur mouths. you'll all go for a nice walk in the park and nothing is more relaxing for sorbet than kickin back on a bench while his rowdy babes end up tussling in the dirt. be free

of course, u and gelato also drag him into the dirt and put flowers in his hair and he would want nothing less

they'll both squish ur cheeks and lovingly tease u about how cute u are. blow a raspberry at them and they'll give u a kiss

sorbet will throw u over his shoulder and carry u around (no matter ur body type, he's strong!!!) + gelato will smatter ur face in kisses, just to hear u squeal and giggle

[romanceimp]

Relflections

hello, hello,

welcome to the dark side... this is my second collab with bnharem. Please, please, read through the rest of the collab list HERE. I am so grateful to be working with so many other talented writers and artists on this. Special shout out to @doinmybesthere for beta reading and for @kuso-deku whom I dedicate this piece fror giving me the Mirio brain rot...

TW: NSFW, 18++++ Villains, dub-con moments, sex, violence, YANDERE MIRIO, two crazy people, inter dimensional travel, killing, mentions of blood, dirty talk, some cum play

Around 7000 words

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before. Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city? Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary. One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.

You flip off the television and rise from your seat on the couch. Your roommate and the object of your affection had already left for the night. Mirio would never obey that curfew, not as long as there were people he could be saving. That’s Mirio for you… always being the hero, even if he’d lost his quirk ages ago. But ever since the onslaught of new villains, and heroes turning to the darkside you’re patching him up more than normal… He returns with wounds more serious now, the scars abundant on his once smooth skin. He is becoming a reflection of the ruin and carnage that floods the streets. This is why you had come up with, planned out, and prepared for a way to fix everything. You could never stop him from being a hero, it was who he was… but you can get his quirk back… 

You check your pocket one last time… it’s there, wrapped in that small blue handkerchief. You examine the strange item one last time, careful not to prick yourself with it by mistake. It’s shaped like a sewing pin, only slightly larger. One prick, that’s all it takes, one prick and it will absorb the power from the first thing that it touches. Then one more prick, and the next thing it touches will absorb the gathered power. One chance, that’s all you have. 

You grip the chain around your neck and pull the locket out from inside your shirt. You read the engraving on the back, as you always do, and you smile. 

Come back to me ~ Mirio

It had been a gift, something to help you when you were learning how to use your quirk. The going part had always been easy, it was the returning from your travels that had been difficult. You open the locket, one side is a watch, the other a mirror. You check the time and write it down to the second on your arm in biro. 

7:43. 26 PM

You have 8 hours exactly and you fear you’ll need much more time than that. But your quirk’s limits are not forgiving in the slightest. A second longer and you’ll die. 

You take a deep breath, eyes now focussing on the mirror side of the locket. You’d returned this way ever since Mirio gave you the locket, but never once travelled forward through the mirror before. You meet your own eyes and start to feel the familiar pull, your face turning that strange shade of blue. 

Please let this work. Please, take me to Mirio. 

The gravity in the mirror builds and you can feel the surging power of your quirk. You feel yourself meet your reflection, becoming one with it for a split second before you’re absorbed to the other side of the mirror. 

You land in a darkened alley. The smell of stale beer and piss invading your senses, making your head swim even more than normal. The thickness of the summer air does nothing to help. It doesn't matter how many times you use your quirk, it always leaves you dizzy, disoriented. But that was to be expected when travelling to another dimension. Your quirk was dubbed Mirror Image, it allowed you to travel to different dimensions by looking at your own reflection. 

You check your pockets again… it’s still there. The “quirk extractor”, that’s not really what it was called but you’d forgotten the actual name of it. It had taken trying quite a few different dimensions to find something like it. It was very possible that you might never find that place again. You had to treat this like it was the only one in existence, afterall, it was the only one in this existence. But where exactly was this existence?

You blink, vision clearing and you examine the alley. It looks like a regular alley, slimy brick walls, dumpster, broken liquor bottles. A few people walk past on the main street, their laughter echoing off the alley’s walls. A lightbulb buzzes over a shut metal door. But there was no Mirio. The plan was to find a mirror Mirio, a Mirio that had never lost his quirk... extract this Mirio’s quirk and bring it back to your Mirio, the Mirio you loved. 

You had done enough dimensional travel to know that every version of the self was weirdly connected. That’s why you had travelled forward through the mirror he had given you this time. You had hoped it would bring you to another Mirio, since the mirror had never failed to take you back to him… even if you were in a strange corner of the universe. But alas, it was like travelling through any other reflection. As usual, you stand in an unknown location, trying your best to figure out where you’ve ended up. 

You kick a stray tin can in frustration as you walk towards the more populated streets. You laugh at your own stupidity. You knew the real reason you were doing this. Maybe, this act of love, retrieving his stolen quirk would change his mind. Maybe he would take back what he had said all those years ago… the words that would never stop ringing in your ears.

You’re standing on the sidewalk, trying to decide which way to go when the sound of rusty hinges snaps you from your thoughts. You turn to look back down the dim lit alley. A man with shaggy blue hair exits the building, his red eyes gleam and your heart drops. It’s hard to see but you’d know his face anywhere, he’s practically taken over your city, Shigaraki Tomura. Take a few steps to where you’re concealed by the wall of the building. He speaks to someone who is still inside the building. You angle your head to try and hear over the busy street. “They’ve just been getting in the way is all, and I need you to get them out of the way… see?” 

Why did your quirk take you to Shigaraki when you had specifically thought of Mirio? The streetlight’s shadows help to hide your shape. You peek around to see who he is talking to. Your breath hitches in your throat as you see the tall blonde exit from the building’s wall. Mirio. You watch as he leans his shoulder against the brick from which he just emerged. He looks taller, stronger, and still has his quirk… would your Mirio have looked like this if his power had never been robbed?  His grey tshirt is pulled tight around his body and his usually done hair is ungelled, almost messy, bangs hanging just above his eyes. “That’s easy, you have anything actually worth my time?” he jokes. Shigaraki looks unamused, eyes closing in annoyance.

 “Just do it, and don’t make it so messy this time… you tend to leave a trail wherever you go,” Shigaraki scolds. Mirio grins, but it’s not the same warm smile you’d grown to love, this smile is darker, more sinister. “I’ll take care of it boss, sheesh, you worry too much,” he rolls his shoulder on the wall until his back is flush against the brick. He pushes off of it and heads towards the end of the alley. You panic as he heads your way. “It’s that hotel on the corner of Roosevelt and Third,” Shigaraki screeches after Mirio who gives him a wave of his hand. “If you weren’t so useful I’d kill you,” Shigaraki adds. Mirio’s laugh bounces off of the alley walls. “You could try,” he calls as he rounds the corner, just passing you as you crouch near some bags of garbage praying he doesn’t notice you. But he passes you, languidly walking towards the destination he was just given by Shigaraki Tomura. That’s when it hits you… by going through Mirio’s mirror, you have found yourself a mirror Mirio. An exact opposite to the man you know.  

The thoughts are swirling around in your head but there’s no time to sort through them… you have to follow him. You slowly rise from your hiding place and melt into the crowds of people. It’s lucky that Mirio is so tall, it makes him easy to follow from a safe distance away. The crowded main streets turn to less populated side streets and you have to maneuver accordingly to stay well hidden. Mirio approaches a building with a neon sign that spells out HOTEL in red letters. A glowing arrow points to the double doors at the front of the building. He hurries up the steps before slipping inside.  

You follow close behind to make sure not to lose him inside but leave a long enough gap so that it isn’t too obvious. Upon entering, you’re met with the old red carpet that should have been replaced twenty years ago. Dust clings to the fabric of the sofa and cobwebs dangle from the antique crystal chandelier. The floor is well polished however, reflecting the lights that hang from the ceiling. It’s strange that there’s no clerk at the desk but a few people piddle about the lobby. A man makes eye contact with you, furrowing his brow in confusion. A woman in a short, low cut dress slips her hand below another man's belt and whispers something in his ear. No one blinks when Mirio makes a beeline down the hallway to the left. This was not an ordinary hotel. You walk calmly after Mirio and peer down the long dark corridor. There’s not sight of him but you watch the door at the end of the hall close. There. The lights in this section of the hall are off and everything seems quiet, whereas the hall to the right was lit and loud. Sounds of pleasure and partying spilling from underneath each door. You curse Mirio for walking down the more sinister path and follow begrudgingly. 

The hall is dark save one room where hysterical cries seep out. You don’t want to know what was going on and instead keep your eyes trained on the small bit of light that pours from the window inside that end door. Upon closer inspection there is a coating of condensation on the glass. This must be the pool. 

You retrieve the quirk extractor from your pocket and remove it from it’s wrapping, careful not to prick yourself.  You slowly open the door he had gone through just moments ago. You slid inside the door slowly and carefully, making more sound than you would have liked, but it can’t be helped. Any sound easily bounces off the water of the glistening blue pool. The smell of chlorine is overwhelming and you start to realise that there aren’t very many good hiding places in a place like this.... And Mirio is nowhere to be found. You grip the quirk extractor as you hear a door towards the back of the room slam shut. Another exit… your footsteps echo far more than you would like for them to as you head towards the door. 

“Gotchya.”

The voice startles you. Your grip on the quirk extractor falters, coupled with the way you jump… you watch as it slowly descends into the water, effectively pricking the pool. The ball at the end of the extractor emits a green light as it sinks to the bottom. “You idiot!” you shout before you can think better of it. Mirio steps from the wall and quirks an eyebrow up at you. “Me idiot? You’re the one following me with the stealth of one of the 3 stooges.”

He looks even more dangerous up close. A long scar descends from his chin down his neck. And while his eyes are the same colour, there’s a glint in them which your Mirio lacks. He’s faster as this version of himself, and you don’t have time to think before your back is against the cold tile wall. “So gorgeous, gonna tell me what that thing was and why you’re following me… or will I just rip the answers out of you one by one.” You’re too confused watching as he looms over you. His expression is half pleased, half irritated. You inhale to speak but the words don’t come. The smile on his face right now… it’s the expression of someone who has killed and enjoyed it. It’s never something you could have pictured to play across Mirio’s face and it jars you. A chill runs up your spine and goosebumps prickle on your arms. He’s terrifying but also so beautiful. 

One of his hands moves up to grip your throat as he growls, “I’m waiting, bitch.” You flail as his grip tightens, scratching your nails into his arm in hopes that he will let go.  “Please Mirio, I-I’m sorry.” His grip loosens suddenly but his hand stays around your neck. “What did you call me?” You cough and inhale, then meet his eyes. There is a familiar curiosity within his gaze but it’s joined by something else, that same strange glint. Is it amusement or something much more sinister? You can’t put your finger on it. “Mirio, your name is Mirio,” you murmur. A sly smile crosses his face as he moves closer to you, his hips pinning yours to the tile. “Yes, but how do you know that?” 

You stutter, trying to find the right words, a sigh haphazardly escaping your lips as the heat from his body becomes intoxicating. “You been sent to spy by the heroes?” You shake your head and try to wiggle free, but only succeed in grinding against him. A low laugh bubbles from his throat as he pins your wrists above your head with one hand and stills your hips with his other. “That’s real cute, but not gonna get you out of trouble with me…” His eyes flick down your body then back up. “Quite the opposite actually,” he teases. Your face feels warm and your eyes dart down and away. “Aww you’re so shy now, makes me wanna eat you up.” Mirio tilts your chin upwards so you’re looking at him. His eyes have softened slightly. “Just tell me,okay? I don’t wanna have to hurt ya.” There's a strange pleading in his tone, a sincerity you didn't expect. “We know each other, Mirio… well sort of,” you match the tone of his voice. A smirk breaks on his face, “are you my stalker?” You roll your eyes, he still had a sense of humour in this universe. It’s nice to know some things never change. 

“No, no we’re friends, but I know a different… you.” He blinks before his eyes narrow. He starts to speak but you continue to explain… about your quirk, the Mirio you know, and how you’d planned to steal his quirk. You show him your locket, the engraving. He still seems suspicious as he turns it over in his hands, examining it. “You’re a crafty little liar, I’ll give you that, had this made and all, but now I’ll have to pull the truth out of you, and like I said, I really didn’t want to have to do that to you.” “Wait… I can prove it, just let me use the mirror… then I’ll leave you alone.” Mirio looks you up and down again before opening the locket and holding it out for you. 

You focus on your reflection and watch as your face turns that strange blue black colour. Guilt seeps from your mind and travels down your spine as you’re pulled towards your reflection. The quirk extractor was sitting at the bottom of the pool, now carrying within it the power of chlorine… You hadn’t helped Mirio, only discovered a dark side to his existence… which wasn’t all that bad it seemed. He hadn’t harmed you at all, just threatened you slightly and even then it had seemed he was teasing and flirting more than anything. Your Mirio had never flirted with you… on purpose. The pull of the mirror became stronger and there was a strange sadness, a feeling that you would miss this version of Mirio. This version of Mirio was void of the sunshine that the original Mirio held within him at all times, but this Mirio seemed to see you. This Mirio had given you more in a few seconds than the original Mirio had in years. You shut your eyes as you began to fall into the mirror’s reflection. The original Mirio’s words that he’d said to you that day still hanging heavy in your heart. You laugh at your own pathetic nature for the second time today. You fantasies of Mirio were just that… just fantasies. In all universes. 

A hand pushes you backwards away from the mirror. The impact is so strong you stumble, but the same hand catches you and pulls you into him. You gasp for air, your head reeling from being ripped from the portal. Mirio holds you close, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just- I didn’t want you to go.” His voice is riddled with guilt, shaking slightly. You fist your hands into his shirt, gripping the fabric as you struggle to stand. “Whoa whoa, hey,” he consoles as he sinks to his knees, bringing you with him. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap. “I really didn’t mean to- I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m okay, I’ve just never been pulled from a portal before,” you stutter. His thumb brushes over your face temple. “You remember your name?” You state your name and he repeats it, “Y/n… I love it.” A smile plays on your features, cheeks heating once again upon hearing the compliment. “Hey, what’s 2 + 2?” 

“4,”

“Damn, well I guess you’re a math wiz.”

Your eyes flutter open and he smiles, “there she is.” You squeeze your eyes shut then open them once more in an effort to stop the room from spinning. “Are you gonna kill me now?” you drawl. Mirio pouts, “well that depends, are you still gonna steal my quirk for other me?” You laugh and roll your head away from him. “I can’t, it’s in the pool now, it’s absorbed the fucking power of chlorine.” Mirio laughs, “well whose fault is that?” You look up at him, there’s an intensity to his gaze when you meet his eyes. Your heart hammers against your chest… “yours.” You start to sit up, his arms still cling to you. “You’re the dummy who let go just ‘cuz I scared you.” You hum considering his words, “you don’t scare me Mirio.” 

His arms relax around you and you move to lay down on the tile floor. Your back relaxes against the floor and you move your arms over your head to rest your head in your hands. “You should be afraid, I’m a whole different me, sweetheart,” he remarks. He moves to lay next to you, mimicking your position. “You’re still Mirio,” you sigh, your eyes taking in the blank space of the ceiling. “You don’t know the things I’ve done, my body count, nothing.” “You’re still Mirio,” you insist. Laying like this you can hear the echo of your words bouncing off of the water. “He’s lucky, other me… to have a girl like you.” His last few words are whispered, failing to bounce around the room. They hang over you, adding weight to the atmosphere. “Ah well, the Mirio in my universe doesn’t see it that way,” you deflect. Mirio rolls to face you, his head laying in the crook of his arm. “I know we don’t know each other… not really, but it’s strange, I feel like I’ve known you forever.” You turn your head to look at him. His eyes are practically on fire now, that small glint having grown into a flame. “In a way we have, I know a version of you… what I’ve come to find is every universe has overlaps of some sort… you and the Mirio I know will share some things… memories even.” Mirio’s face lights up, “yes exactly, I feel like I’ve seen you in a dream or something…” You shrug, “it’s possible.” Mirio smiles, it’s a familiar smile, a sincere happiness that the Mirio of your universe wears often. Much different than the smiles this Mirio had even just a few moments ago. 

“Why are you a villain?” you ask him. Mirio clutches his chest in mock pain. “That hurts, sweetheart… Just because I don’t accept the truths the rule makers of our world have given me… that’s what makes me a “villain”?” You narrow your eyes, “I meant more that you’re a hitman working for Shigaraki Tomura.” He laughs, “heard that did you? Guess you were following me for longer than I’d realised.” He pauses and moves closer to you. “I have no problem getting rid of a few people who won’t contribute anything of value… most lives are a total waste, I’m merely an exterminator… getting rid of the bad to make more space for the good…” He says it so casually that it makes chills run up your spine. “So does that make you the good or the bad?” He laughs again though this time he is less amused with your question. “I’m just a sacrificial pawn, sweetheart… can’t be good to make space for it.” 

You reach out and touch his bare arm. His skin is hot against his fingertips. “You didn’t hurt me… when you thought I was lying, you can’t be bad…” He smiles, “That’s just because I see how good you are and I want to protect that… protect you.” His hand begins to mirror yours, stroking up and down your arm with light fingertips. “If you can see the good, then that makes you good.” 

His fingers grip into your arm and he pulls you closer to him. He reaches for the back of your neck when he notices the smudge of ink on his hand. He examines your arm and finds the numbers. “What’s this?” he asks. You sigh, “it’s the time I have to go…” He pulls your face closer to his, your noses almost touching. “You can’t stay?” You shake your head, “Only for 8 hours, else I’ll be torn apart by the universal pulls… I’m not really supposed to be here ya know,” you joke. Mirio’s face falls, “Can you come back?” You shrug, “I can but the time I can stay is deducted every single time I return to a universe until I can no longer visit anymore…” Mirio’s thumb rubs soft circles into the flesh of your cheek. “What should we do then?” he asks. You smile sadly before sitting up. You give him an impish smirk. “Well, there’s a pool, I say we swim.” 

You start by removing your top, slowly peeling it away and discarding it to the floor. Mirio follows, taking off his grey tshirt. His figure is chiseled, each muscle toned and defined. You start unbuttoning your trousers when you feel the heat of his chest flush against your back. “Can I?” he asks as his hands rest on your hips. You nod and he slowly pulls your pants down your legs. He helps you step out of them before throwing them towards the growing pile of clothes. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs into your skin, trailing kisses up your thighs. You grab his face with two hands and pull him to standing. “My turn,” you smirk, looping your fingers in his belt loops and pulling him towards you. You undo his pants, kissing down his chest. Savoring the taste of his skin. He groans at your touch and you feel the heat pooling low in your belly. His pants removed his stands only in grey underwear, while you remain in your bra and panties. 

You teasingly move away from him and stand on the first rung of the ladder in the deep end of the pool. You look back to where he stands, calling him to you with your gaze. He groans as he moves towards you. “I’m really holding back you know,” he growls, pressing his chest against your back, his a. “Why hold back? You can have whatever you want… Just take it, make it yours.” Mirio trails his lips up your neck, ready to suckle a mark into your skin, when you add, “if you can,” and step off the ladder into the blue water. 

As soon as the water touches your skin you’re swimming towards the other side. You hear Mirio dive in after you and know that this has all been futile. He grabs your hand and slings you gently towards the wall. He places both of his hands on either side of your body, pinning you. You wipe the water from your eyes before wrapping them around his neck. “You caught me so fast… I thought you’d chase me around more,” you provoke. He shakes the water from his hair and moves his body closer to yours. “Chasing you is a waste of fucking time right? I want to have you,” he growls. You open your mouth to say something but are silenced by his lips on yours. 

The kiss is needy, sloppy. He kisses you like he’s starving, finally being fed. His tongue draws circles around yours before sucking it into his mouth. You moan into the kiss and he responds by pulling you closer, grinding on your clothed cunt with his hardening cock. He moves to run his tongue along your bottom lip before nipping at it. You sight into the kiss, turning your head to deepen it. You pull away a wry smile on your face. Mirio’s pupils are blown, that unfamiliar glint in his eye now having a name for it, desire. 

“Miri, I want you,” his hips stutter against yours upon hearing this. “Fuck princess, I won’t be able to hold back anymore if you keep looking at me like that.” You pepper kisses to his face, tasting the chlorine on his skin. “Don’t hold back,” you whisper, “I trust you, you’re good to me, I’m yours if that’s what you really want.” His breath shakes upon hearing this and he presses his forehead to yours. “Mine? All fucking mine? Like this me?” You nod and kiss him again. This time you catch his bottom lip and suck it, pulling on it just to hear him moan. 

He helps lift you to where you’re sitting on the edge of the pool. He peels your panties down your legs before spreading them. He kisses one of your thighs before massaging the other. “So fucking perfect,” he praises, “all fucking mine.” He trails his hand and mouth up the inside of your thigh. He spreads your folds, drinking in the sight of your bare cunt. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he sighs. “I’m gonna make you forget about any other versions of me, you’re going to be all mine.” He presses a kiss to your clit, “gonna be all fucking mine, princess.” 

He drags his tongue, slow, up your slit and circles it around your clit before sucking on it gently. You stifle a whine and you can feel him smiling in pride. “That is princess, lemme hear those sweet sounds.” He does the same move again and this time you don’t hold it in. Your sounds of pleasure echo around the pool, bouncing around and finally landing back on your own ears. But you don’t hear them, as you’re too lost in the pleasure. Mirio grips the wall of the pool with one hand while the other comes up to rest on your lower abdomen. His thumb starts rubbing soft circles on your clit while his tongue circles your hole. “Tastes so fucking good,” he growls and then shoves his tongue inside. The muscle is hot, wet, and he slowly begins to add more pressure to your clit while tongue fucking you. You’re completely overcome with a mind melting pleasure as you fall back onto your elbows, your hips grinding against his face. You aren’t sure how, but you can already feel that familiar knot forming in the pit of your stomach. You’re close and Mirio seems to know as he picks up the pace. “Cum all over my face- wanna taste you-” His permission was all you needed and soon you’re clamping down around his tongue, calling broken syllables of his name. He kisses your cunt as you come down from your high. “Such a good girl for me, cumming when I say.”

He lifts himself out of the pool and removes his underwear. He’s thick, incredibly so and long. The head is red, leaking pre cum. You groan at the sight, cunt aching to be filled. You reach for him, pulling him on top of you. He kisses you, deep, passionate, with lots of tongue and teeth. You can feel his cock, thick and hard pressing into your thigh. He ruts his hips into yours, his cock sliding along your thigh. “Please,” you beg. He growls and flips you to where you’re on top and he sits pressing you to him, cock wedged between the two of you. You grind against him in anticipation. “Please Miri,” you plead. He lifts you and in one swift move, you’re impaled on his cock. 

You cry out, and it echoes back to you. The stretch is incredible, a pleasurable, dull pain that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. He carefully thrusts up into you, and you crumble, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “I don’t wanna hurt my baby,” he coos, body stilling. You shake your head, “no it feels good, y-you're just so big.” He laughs darkly, “you love the pain, don't you?” He gives another thrust to test your reaction and this time he can feel it. Your pussy dripping down his cock.He looks down, eyes blowing at the sight, “fuck baby look, I’m not even all the way inside…” You look down and moan, his cock is a little over half inside. It’s too big to fit all the way. “You cute little cunt keeps throbbing on my cock, and when she does, she drools.” He wipes up some of your combined juices with his thumb and rubs into your clit again, just as he had before. Then he starts to move. 

He starts slowly bouncing you in his lap at a gentle pace, but soon his eyes change and his thrusts become harder and faster. “I’m sorry princess, but you feel too good, I need more of you, need all of you.” Mirio fucks into you harder, his cock so big he hits every spot inside of you that makes you weak with each thrust. Your cries become louder and more desperate. His cock kissing your cervix with each thrust causes you to disintegrate in his lap. The lewd sounds of his hips smacking into your ass fills the pool. Mirio’s eyes flick down and he growls. “Look at that baby, ‘m all the way inside now, doing so good, so fucking perfect taking every inch I have to give. God you’re fucking made for me.” You sink your teeth into his neck in a desperate effort to stave off your orgasm, to savor the moment you’d waited so long for. The moment where you and Mirio Togata become one. But it feels too good, the pleasure so intense that you’re pushed over the edge again, clenching tightly around Mirio’s fat cock. “Fuck baby, do that again, milk my cock for me while I fuck you into my shape.” 

His thrusts become sloppier but he manages to continue to hit all your spots, driving his cock into you at a bruising pace. You’re shaking in his lap, body convulsing from your last orgasm as another starts to build. “Fucking hell baby, you’re so fucking perfect, and you’re mine, all fucking mine.” His hips start to stutter but his pace quickens. “I’m all yours Miri, yes, I’m yours,” you moan. He pulls your head towards him and kisses you with that same hunger as before, teeth gripping at your lower lip and him sucking on your tongue. You moan into his mouth as your orgasm washes over you, white hot. It’s too much and sends him over the edge. “That’s it, milk my cock, milk my fucking cock,” he pants, pouring his cum deep inside you. “I’m gonna get you pregnant, gonna make you mine forever,” he growls as his hot ropes of cum still paint your walls. 

Your body is shaking, the post orgasm cold mixed with your wet body has goosebumps prickling your body. He pulls his cock out and groans at the way his cum drips from your hole. He smiles, “you’re even more beautiful now that I’ve claimed you.” You smile against his skin. “I feel more beautiful,” you reply. But Mirio’s words ring in your ears. You sit up quickly but wince. “I hurt you, I’m so-” “No, that isn’t it…” You lay your head in the crook of his neck. “The longer I’m here in this dimension the weaker I become… but I’m okay, don't worry.” You nuzzle into him, trying to steal some of his warmth. He caresses your back, “I wish you could stay…” “I-I have to go back, we can’t be together forever, even though it’s all I want,” when you finally say the words you start to cry. Mirio wraps his arms around you. “You’re cold,” he says. He helps you up holding your hands, “can you stand?” You nod and he walks you back towards the shallow end of the water. He eases himself in first and then takes your hand to help you do the same. 

He cradles you to him, “but you can go back to other me, and when you make love to him, you can just think of me… we’re the same.” You look into his eyes, face pleading, “that’s just it Mirio, you aren’t the same at all… he will never love me.” Mirio’s face darkens, anger, pure anger resides in his features. “Why not?” You take a deep breath. These were the words that haunted you from the moment the other Mirio had spoken them. “He told me, I will always love you, but I will never, ever, love you like that.” You whisper this secret to him.

Mirio can see it, the weight you’ve carried in your heart. That Mirio might save people all day long, be an actual hero, but he’s the one that’s more fucked… evil. Breaking the most perfect girl he has ever known into small pieces. No, Mirio could never let such evil exist, even if that evil was technically himself. “I’m gonna kill him,” he vows as he cradles you protectively. 

Your eyes widen, and you grip onto his face. He looks at you, smiling. “Miri, do you really want to be with me forever?” He nods and kisses you, “more than anything, you’re mine now, I’ve claimed you, you belong to me.” “I belong to you,” you echo and press your forehead against his. “I think I know a way,” you inform, the grin breaking over your face. He awaits an explanation with wide eyes. “You can come back to my world with me.” Mirio narrows his eyes in confusion, “won’t that kill me? Like it kills you?” You shake your head, “no… that just has to do with the limitations of my quirk… I’ve brought someone back with me before, the only thing is… that there’s already a Mirio in my universe, which could technically throw time and space out of balance. But there’s a small window where it wouldn’t… and if you really want to kill him… then there would only be one again.” You smile and hold his face, peppering it with kisses. “You can kill him and take his place!” 

You’re met with Mirio’s grin and another sloppy kiss. “I knew I was right about you, you’re perfect.” You both climb out of the pool and dress in your clothes again. You put the locket around your neck and open it focussing on your reflection. For the first time, holding the mirror, you don’t feel the weight of the other Mirio’s words. This Mirio, now your Mirio, has filled the void that the Mirio of your universe put inside your heart. You wonder now if you’d really loved him all this time or if it was a disguised hatred and rage. You’d always found blood somewhat disturbing but now you were excited to see it. Excited to watch the man who hurt you bleed out and be destroyed by the man you loved. Excited to watch him die. 

 You grip Mirio’s hand in yours, finger interlaced. “Just don’t let go, no matter what, okay?” Mirio kisses your hand. “I won’t, swear,” he confirms. 

Your face begins to change and you feel the gravity sucking you back into your reflection, but this time, you won’t be returning to him alone and in pieces. You’ll be returning to him whole.  This time… it would be him lying in pieces on the floor. 

[booksarelife-stuff]

Godric’s Hollow’s 286th Annual Lawn Competition

My entry for the August Jily Challenge! @jilychallenge

Prompt:  my mother hired you to mow the lawn but can you put your shirt back on its distracting me, and omg stOP grinning at me like that I’m swooning (I did not follow this at all)

Between adjusting to her new town and the hot rude neighbor, Lily is determined to prove herself in Godric’s Hollow by winning their annual lawn competition. Featuring both shirtless Lily and James. 

My partner was the amazing @joyseuphoria, whose creativity and ideas really helped me write this fic! She came up with so many fun ideas and was a great partner!

Word Count: 5,075

Read on Ao3      Masterlist

When Lily opened the door to her small cottage to the outside, she took in the fresh air. 

Godric’s Hollow was so different from her and Marlene’s old apartment back in London. She could open her door and find a bright blue sky and fresh air instead of the stale smell that the hallway had reeked of. It was a nice and welcomed change.

She pulled the door behind her, taking a second to lock the door. Just as she turned to walk down her small concrete path to the sidewalk, she heard a sudden exclamation. 

She whipped her head around just as the words “Dibs!” left the tall man standing on his own walkway right by some overgrown bushes.  

He was looking right at her. There was no mistaking what or who was talking about. His eyes widened dramatically as Lily met his eyes. The man’s friend in front of him doubled over with laughter. 

“Did you just call ‘dibs’ on me?” she asked, anger coloring her voice. 

“No…” The man said, his tone culpable. His friend shook his head, still holding back laughs. “Well okay, yes, but not in the way you’re thinking!”

Lily didn’t want to hear whatever half-assed explanation the man was going to stammer out to her. She just rolled her eyes and continued on her way to the sidewalk, not paying attention to whatever the man was saying to her. 

As Lily stomped her way to her first day at her new job, she hoped she would lose the bad attitude and that man was not her neighbor. 

But of course, Lily’s hope meant nothing. 

That very night, there was a knock on her door shortly after she just got back from work. Lily groaned slightly, pulling herself off her couch and navigated through the maze of boxes she still hadn’t unpacked. 

She stubbed her toe on her entryway table and was holding back curses as she opened the door to see four men standing on her stoop. One of which was the man from the morning. 

“Hello,” the shortest man said, smiling. He was pale blonde and seemed to have not lost the baby fat on his face even though he had to be at least Lily’s age. “We’re your neighbors and we wanted to introduce ourselves after the little mishap this morning.”

Lily’s eyebrows shot up. 

“And we want to know what to call you besides Dibs,” the man with shoulder-length wavy black hair said. He had a smirk on his lips that Lily knew just meant trouble. The dibs man, who was trying to hide in the back besides being one the tallest, smacked him lightly on the head. 

“What Sirius meant to say is that we want to welcome you to the neighborhood. I’m Remus,” the tallest of the group with a light white scar across his face. “This is Sirius. Peter’s over to the right. And the one who called dibs is James.”

James groaned. “You guys said you weren’t going to do this to me!”

“And you trusted us?” the blonde, Peter said, innocently. 

“The last time that I do,” James said, glaring at Peter. Sirius rolled his eyes and Remus’s smile didn’t waver. 

“Are you guys just going to bicker on my doorstep?” Lily asked, leaning in the door jam, her arms crossed. Three pairs of eyes flickered back to her, James looking at the ground. 

“No, sorry. We really are here to make introductions,” Peter said, smiling. 

Lily assessed the men for a second. Her eyes stopped for a moment on James. She took in the large square frames and his curly hair. She moved on when she realized that she had spent a moment too long on him. 

She took a deep breath and made her millionth introduction for the day. 

“I’m Lily,” she said. 

“Well, it was nice to meet you. If you ever need anything, just call ‘Dibs’ really loudly and James will come running,” Sirius said, his smile seemingly sincere. 

“Man, fuck you guys. I’m getting new flatmates!” James said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. 

The ribbing on their mate brought a smile to her face, but the man was far from forgiven.

~~~

Lily wondered if her own small town had oddities like Godric’s Hollow. From the people to some of the town events, there seemed to be something that broke her brain a little bit. 

Like Bathilda, the sweet old woman who came into the library where Lily worked every day. 

Bathilda would come in, walking faster than Lily did, but with a walker, to where the new movies were placed. Ever since Bathilda found out Lily wasn’t from Godric’s Hollow, Bathilda would tell Lily all the town history she knew. From claiming there was magic or a coven of witches here to what the last mayor did to get impeached, Bathilda told Lily all of it. 

Like a true customer service worker, Lily just smiled and nodded. She enjoyed Bathilda’s stories but she didn’t really believe them. 

“Ah, it’s summer!” Bathilda said, giving Lily a bright smile, a stack of movies balancing on her walker as she approached the circulation desk. “The lawn competition should be starting soon.”

“Lawn competition?” Lily asked, reaching forward and grabbing the movies when they were in reach. 

“Aye,” Bathilda said, her white hair that was in a bun moving as she nodded her head. “It started right after they burned all the witches here. To bring back nature to the area.”

Lily just nodded, not knowing what else to say to Bathilda. 

“You best be planning for it. Some folks here take it really seriously,” Bathilda warned. 

Based on everything Lily knew about the population here, a lawn competition is exactly something the people would take seriously. 

Lily didn’t think much of the lawn competition until she got home and saw a colorful flyer on her doorstep with her newspaper. 

Godric’s Hollow’s 286th Annual Lawn Competition- Bringing native plants and beauty back to the Hollow.

Lily frowned as she inspected the poster. She needed to pay closer attention to Bathilda’s stories. 

She heard the jingle of keys coming from the boy’s house and she looked to see if it was Remus. 

Unfortunately, it was James leaving. He had his running clothes on, shorts, and a fitted t-shirt. He had a sweatband holding back his bangs. 

She had come to like her neighbors in the month of her being in Godric’s Hollow. She was particularly fond of Remus, but being fond of him meant that a fondness had grown for the others as well, even with their stupid nicknames for each other. 

Lily was even fond of James too. Just a little bit. The dibs incident wasn’t forgotten and though he apologized, he never fully explained what it was really about. 

He was better with his friends, in Lily’s eyes. With his friends, he was goofy and outgoing. He could make the whole group laugh to tears. But whenever he and Lily interacted alone, it was painfully awkward and he almost always managed to insult Lily in some way. 

She sighed and called out anyway just as James was putting his headphones on. 

“Hey, James!” she yelled. James jumped and turned, pulling a bud out. 

“Hello, Lily,” he said, politely. “Need something?”

She waved the flyer and James' eyes followed it, trying to see what it was. Even with his glasses, he was still blind as a bat. 

“What’s this all about?”

“The lawn competition?” he asked, walking across his small yard to the waist-high fence that separated their land. 

“So it’s a real thing?” she asked, frowning. James nodded as he leaned against the fence. 

“The old tale here is that it started after the last witches were burned,” James said. Lily blinked at him in disbelief, but James looked as neutral as ever, so she decided to just move on. 

“What do you do for it? Water your grass or something?” Lily asked. James let out a breath of air like a silent laugh. 

“No. It’s all about bringing plants native to the area back. And in the last decade or so, it’s kinda turned into a competition of who can do the most ridiculous things.”

“You’re fucking with me,” Lily said, rolling her eyes. “Ridiculous things like what?”

James looked amused, his hazel eyes sparkling. “I think the winner last year made some constellations out of corncockles.”

This town was crazy. Grade A, certified crazy. 

“It’s optional though. You don’t have to participate,” James continued. “People here spend years planting to just win one year. You’ll have some stiff competition.”

Lily felt the flare of anger at his words. “So you don’t think I can win?” she asked, crossing her arms and crushing the flyer. Lily knew she was being a bit competitive, but everything to do with James set her on edge. 

James seemed to have picked up on Lily’s temper flaring. He stopped leaning the fence and straightened up. 

“I didn’t say that. I just said some people spend years planning to win,” James reiterated.

Lily narrowed her eyes. 

“Well, I’m going to win,” Lily said. James huffed. 

“Good luck with that,” James said, turning away and popping a headphone into his ear. 

Lily let out a noise. “I’d like to see you win with those overgrown hedges!” 

James turned around and smiled brightly. “Those are for the competition!”

Lily stared at his back as he started off in a jog down the street. Once he was out of view, she took a survey of her yard. 

There wasn’t much. Just grass and a small tree. She looked back to the boy’s yard and it did look like it had a lot more potential than Lily’s. Greener grass, some shrubbery, and window boxes that have yet to be filled. 

Lily headed up to her front door, determined to spend the night researching plants and grass. And why witches getting accused and burned would start a lawn competition. 

~~~

There was a plant nursery in Godric’s Hollow. There was no website, no place for her to browse the catalog before making any purchases. Just a Facebook page that got updated once a month with grainy pictures. 

It was better than Lily expected when she finally dragged herself there after work. There were a few people browsing, one man had a large cart filled with pallets of various plants. Like a lot. Lily wondered if he was the corncockle constellations guy. 

Google only took Lily so far with her research, so she looked in the gardening section at the library and had found out that someone had written a book about native plants, specific to the region; The Southern England Guide to Native Plants and Shrubs by Euphemia Potter. She had that open in her hand as she walked around the nursery. 

She did a quick walk around, trying to identify what plants were in the book. Most of them she could find, but based on the care instructions, her yard wouldn’t be good for them. 

She paused in front of a plant labeled “Pitcher Plant”. It looked weird, but she supposed it would do. She was flipping through the book, trying to find out what the care instructions were when she felt someone beside her. 

“Don’t use that plant,” James said, making Lily jump. She glared at him as she rightened herself. 

“And why is that?” she asked. 

“It’ll discount you from the competition,” he said, touching one of the stems. “It’s an invasive species.”

Lily tore her eyes away from James, back to the plant. 

“This plant also eats insects,” he pointed out. “Bad for the bees.”

“Oh,” Lily breathed. “Yeah, I don’t want that.”

She closed the book and sighed, and looked back at James to see him staring at the book in her hands. 

“Nice book,” he said with a small smile. She looked back down to it and made the connection. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know Euphemia, would you?” she asked, her eyes trailing the Potter after Euphemia on the book cover. 

“I knew her very well,” James said, his eyes turning soft for a quick second. “I think there’s a section in there, around page 203. Most of those plants work with our yard type.”

Despite the sincerity in his voice, her eyes narrowed. She took in his lanky form and his hair that was getting frizzier by the second thanks to the humidity. 

“Why are you helping me?” she asked, crossing her arms. James laughed and ran a hand through his hair, making some curls stick straight up. 

“I just don’t want you to start an invasive plant plague here,” he said, smirking. “It would ruin my lawn too.”

“I wasn’t going to use it if it wasn't in the book!” she pointed out. James gave her a look and Lily rolled her eyes. “I’m not some saboteur!” 

“Yeah, I didn’t peg for the type,” he said, frowning. “I was just trying to be nice.”

“Your nice is rather pointed and mean if you haven’t noticed.”

James just let out a laugh. “Only to you, Evans.”

~~~

The sun was hot and beating down on Lily’s shoulders as she was on her knees, squinting at a piece of paper that was just getting dirty as she tried to dig the appropriate depth for the honeysuckle bushes she bought. 

She still had no idea what she was doing with her lawn, but she figured she could just add in some plants to spaces anyway to liven up her yard. 

It was kind of relaxing, she had come to realize. All the research aside; she was able to just dig and place a pretty thing down in her yard. Tomorrow she could look out the window and admire her work. 

And it was something to preoccupy her time. Normally, her weekends had been full of just sitting on the couch, reading, or watching something on the television. Boredom would creep in usually, or the overwhelming feeling of missing her friends. 

But so far, gardening had kept her preoccupied. She didn’t feel that same loneliness creep in as she neared the two-hour mark of her being out there. 

She also talked to Remus a bit, telling him about the newest book she read. She shared a wave with Sirius as he hopped onto his obnoxiously loud motorbike. 

It wasn’t until her fourth honeysuckle was in the ground, that she looked up at the sound of humming and instantly regretted that decision. 

There was James, headphones in his ears and humming away. He had an assortment of his gardening tools with him and tons of flowers all spread out in plastic containers along their walkway.  

But what made Lily regret her life was the fact that he was shirtless. 

It wasn’t a secret that James was the most attractive out of the bunch at his house, though Sirius did give him a run for his money. With his curly hair, infectious smile, and his ability to make everyone laugh. You could look over his lanky limbs and knobby knees. Marlene, after she had come to visit one weekend, had even made Lily admit that if it wasn’t for the whole “dibs” business, she would have probably fancied him. 

It was true, but it was rude of Marlene to point out. 

He wasn’t buff or had any defined abs by any stretch, but Lily thought he was still well sculpted. His arms looked nice too, as she watched him unspool the garden hose. 

She tore her eyes away and tried to focus on her honeysuckle.

Lily stole a few more glances but overall was dedicated to her honeysuckle plant. 

Just as she patted the last of her dirt down around the roots, she suddenly felt the blast of cold water rush down her head. 

She let out a yelp and quickly raised to her feet as the blast continued to drown her newly planted honeysuckles. In the field of her vision, she saw James scrambling with the other end, trying to pull it towards him and out of where Lily was in the line of fire. 

It sprayed her one more time before James finally got it to stop. He ran over, an apologetic look in his eyes. 

“Lily, I’m so sorry. I forgot the handle is stuck on the nozzle and I didn’t know you were over there,” he said.

Lily sighed deeply as she pulled her t-shirt that was sticking to her skin away from her body, the fabric heavy. 

“It’s fine,” Lily said in a defeated tone. “Why was your hose over here anyway?” 

“I was making sure there were no tangles before I watered the hedges,” James said. 

Lily barely registered his words and she pulled her shirt off, not wanting to deal with the heaviness on her while she tried to garden. She threw her wet shirt on the ground next to her, leaving her only in her black sports bra. She looked up, running both hands through her shoulder-length hair to stop it from sticking to her face. 

James was rooted to his spot on the other side of the fence. His gaze locked onto her face. It was only then that Lily realized she had just casually thrown her shirt off in front of him.

“It was an accident,” she said. “You didn’t point the hose at me with intention, unlike the dibs. At least you watered my honeysuckles for me.”

James let out a laugh that could be mistaken for a sigh of relief. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m still sorry. For this and the dibs incident.”

She laughed. “I think you’re going to have to apologize for that as long as we’re neighbors.”

He smiled, amused, and nodded his head. “Yeah, I’m never living that down. Doesn’t matter that it wasn’t actually what I was doing.”

Lily tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “What were you actually doing?”

“The truth is only slightly less good,” he admitted, his smile falling a bit. “I—Well, no we—No, I. I noticed you when you were moving in and I did make a comment—” Lily’s eyebrows raised. “—A respectful comment!”

“What’s a respectful comment?” she interrupted. 

“I said ‘I think our new neighbor is beautiful’,” James said, a hand coming to the back of his neck. “That’s respectful, right?”

Lily’s heart decided to skip a beat and she felt a blush start to rise on her cheeks. She played it off with an eye roll. 

“Anyway, we happened to be leaving at the same time and Sirius turned to me and told me to make a move ‘before someone else did’, were his exact words…” James said, making a face. “And then I said ‘What do you want me to do? Point at her and call ‘Dibs’?’”

Lily started laughing. “So all I heard was ‘dibs’.”

“Yeah… I probably shouldn’t have yelled it for emphasis,” he said. 

She shook her head. Her opinion of him changed slightly, but not enough to be okay with the way her heart was racing as she looked at his shirtless form again.

~~~

The summer seemed to breeze past. Lily spent almost every moment of her free time working outside after she had formed her plan for her entry to the lawn competition. 

There were a lot of times where James was outside too and they would talk sometimes. Most ribbing each other like petty housewives about the state of their various lawns. It brought a smile to her face more than she would like to admit. 

They had some nice normal discussion too. Lily had walked to the fence, holding the library’s copy of The Southern England Guide to Native Plants and Shrubs by Euphemia Potter. She wanted to ask James a question about one of the ivy species that was mentioned. 

He had gotten that same soft smile on his face when he saw the book and Lily had to ask again. 

“Did you know the author?” she asked, looking into his hazel eyes. 

He nodded. “My mum. She was a botanist. She came to Godric’s Hollow to observe how the competition was helping with local pollinating numbers. Met my dad, that year’s winner, and ended up staying.”

“That is so sweet!” Lily said, smiling a little before it fell. “Are your parents still around?”

He shook his head. “Dad passed away during my first year of uni. Mum passed away last November.”

“My dad passed away in sixth year,” she said. “It gets better, but it still hurts.”

They continued on, both talking a little more but still refusing to disclose what they were doing for the competition, even though Lily’s was a little more obvious with every passing day. James seemed to just be doing normal landscaping, besides his overgrown hedges. 

Lily began to notice a lot of things about James. Besides his tendency to speak without thinking, his heart is always in the right place. It caught Lily off-guard most times. 

Something shifted in her over the weeks as they worked on the lawns. 

It was two days before the competition when Lily got home to see James outside, hedge clippers by his feet as he examined his four very tall and overgrown bushes. 

“I hope you’re not planning to win with those,” Lily called. 

James smirked over to Lily. “Just wait until I give them a trim.”

“Nicely trimmed hedges aren’t going to beat my lawn.”

James looked at the monstrosity of Lily’s yard. There were lines of primrose flowers snaking through her front lawn and turning to the back. 

Lily had spent back-breaking hours and an embarrassing amount of money to make a maze of her yard. It wasn’t like a true maze, you could see every aisle because the primroses didn’t get very tall, but it was the end that really made it worth it. 

Lily had converted her small back patio to a fairy garden. She used hanging planters, climbing ivy, and lights to really make it special.

James hadn’t seen it yet. She was going to show him once she had won the competition. 

It wasn’t until the morning of the judging that Lily saw that she actually had competition. 

Standing proud at the edge of his lawn were four perfectly cut hedges in the shape of a deer, a dog, a wolf, and a large rat. 

Lily stood in awe by her window as James was taking small scissors and cutting more details and cleaning up lines. 

She opened up her front door and walked to her fence. James turned and met her with a smirk. 

“How did you do that?” she asked. 

“Good morning to you, too,” he said. “I watched a million Youtube videos.”

Lily brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she inspected the hedges behind me. “What’s the inspiration?”

“Have you heard Sirius call me Prongs?” James asked. 

Lily had heard their stupid nicknames in passing. She thought Peter was the worst but all of them were stupid. 

“Your stupid nicknames, yeah.”

“So I’m Prongs, Sirius is Padfoot, Remus is Moony, and Peter is Wormtail,” he said. Then made a sweeping gesture back to the hedges. 

She blinked in confusion as she looked back at the hedges. 

“I’m a little lost,” she admitted. 

James sighed. “So, I’m Prongs because Peter once told me the way my hair stands up looks like antlers. Sirius is Padfoot because he is the king of sneaking around. Remus is Moony because he exclusively wore those weird shirts that have wolves howling at the moon when we were 12.”

Lily let out a loud laugh, picturing a small Remus in those kinds of shirts.

“Peter?” she asked in-between laughs.  

“We were sworn to secrecy for that story,” he said. “He would actually murder me if I said it.”

Lily laughed and James joined in. 

The judging wasn’t until the afternoon, so Lily did some last-minute weeding and watering. She made sure the lights in the secret fairy garden still worked and made sure there were no dead leaves insight. 

James was standing on his lawn, talking to two of the most oddly dressed people Lily had ever seen. 

The woman was dressed in what Lily could only think of as a robe. It was a bright blue, with belled sleeves. The man was in similar clothes, but a blinding yellow with a long white beard. They both had hats that looked like top hats, only decorated with flowers. They also had clipboards in hand. 

Yet another town oddity that Lily would just have to brush off. 

James caught sight of Lily and waved her over. 

“This is another competitor. She just moved here about three months ago,” James told them as she neared. 

“Hello, I’m Lily,” she said upon arrival. 

“I’m Albus Dumbledore,” the man with a smile and twinkle in his eye. 

“I’m Minerva,” the woman said. 

Lily shook both of their hands. 

“We’ve been judging this competition for, what? Forty years, now Minerva?” Albus said as Lily raised her eyebrows, impressed. 

The woman pinched her lips and nodded. “Twice as long as these two have been alive.”

Lily, James, and Albus laughed. “Pleasantries aside, let’s get to judging.”

James and Lily stayed behind as they went and started looking at James’s hedges, inspecting it with great detail. 

“Still using those silly nicknames?” Minerva called, as she began writing down on her clipboard. 

“Of course,” James answered. “I would have put a mouse for you, Minnie, but we ran out of room.”

Lily nudged him as Minnie shot him a glare. “Unwise to insult the judges, James Fleamont.”

James frowned and Lily laughed. “Fleamont?” Lily asked. 

“That was my father’s name,” James replied. “And I got stuck with it as a middle name.” 

“I take it you know Minerva pretty well if she’s using your middle name?” Lily questioned. 

“Yeah, she was one of my mum’s best friends,” James sighed. “And before you think that means I have some kind of advantage, don’t. She’s going to judge mine ten times harder.”

It took about ten minutes before Minerva started snapping pictures and Albus stopped writing on his clipboard. 

“I think we’re ready to move on,” Albus said smiling. 

They came around the gate and Lily looked at them to the entrance of her lawn maze. James hopped the fence to join them and Lily laughed as she heard Minerva call him a showoff under her breath. 

“This is a maze made entirely out of primroses,” Lily said before stepping away from the entrance. “See if you can get to the end.”

“Normally, it’s customary not to be able to see all the different paths,” Minerva pointed out, looking across the tops of all the lines of flowers she had made. 

“Ah, but most can still get lost with directions in front of them,” Albus said, wisely. “Let’s see if we can win, Minerva.” 

They started off, Albus in the lead, who turned left towards the dead end. Minerva tapped him and made him go in the right direction, following her lead. 

Lily stayed by the entrance with James. He turned his back after a few seconds. 

“I want to do it by myself later,” he said. 

It took them about ten minutes before Lily saw them take the path that led them back to the secret fairy garden. She smirked at James when she heard Minerva’s surprised gasp and Albus’s appreciative chuckle. 

It took another ten minutes to take notes and pictures of it before they were saying their goodbyes. 

They were down the lane before James turned to Lily. 

“I’m doing the maze now,” he said, his eyes shining with amusement.  

Lily wandered behind him, laughing as he took the wrong turn that led him to exit that made him start all over. 

But eventually, he got it. And suddenly it was just her and James on her back patio, surrounded by ivy and twinkling lights. She even found a used metal patio furniture set that she placed.  It smelled good too, from the extra honeysuckle she placed back there. 

“Pretty nice, Evans,” James said, looking around. “And really good for your first year.”

Lily’s stomach swooped with praise. “Thank you,” she replied. “Your hedges are pretty nice too.”

It was shady in her garden area, so she invited James to sit until they announced the winner.

James told her the story about how he ruined his family’s competition entry by squishing a whole patch of Lily of the Valley’s because he thought they would be comfortable. Lily told him that her sister’s name was Petunia and that her mother was Violet. 

The hours flew by as they sat there and talked. Around six is when a moment of bravery came to Lily. 

“Want to go get dinner?” she asked him. 

A bright smile appeared on James’s face. “Like, just the two of us?”

“Yeah, just the two of us.”

“I’d love that,” James said, a hand coming up and raking through his hair. 

They stood up and were about to leave when James’s phone pinged. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked down before gasping. 

“It’s Minnie!” he exclaimed. 

“With the results?” Lily asked, taking a step forward and invading James’s space. 

He didn’t seem to mind. “Yep… it looks like… Oh! I'm the runner up!”

“Who won?” she asked, frowning. 

James unlocked his phone and pocketed it. He looked at Lily with a soft smile. “Lily’s Maze and Enchanted Garden.”

“Really?” she asked, stepping closer. James nodded and their eyes locked. 

In the heat of the moment, Lily stood on tip-toes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. 

Lily could have sworn that the world had slowed its rotation for a minute as pulled away and their eyes met again. It definitely stopped when James cupped her jaw and pulled her in for a real kiss. 

They both were smiling when James pulled away. She didn’t know how long they stared at each, smiling like loons until she found her voice again. 

“So, uh… Dinner?” she asked. James let out a breathy laugh. 

“Yeah, dinner.”

They just entered the maze again when Lily stopped and turned around. She got close to him again and he smiled, thinking she was going to kiss him again. 

Instead, she put a finger to his chest. 

“Dibs.”

[paellaplease]

HAII!! if it hasnt been done yet, could you do revali x reader with basorexia? maybe reader really wants to give him a kiss but she really cant since,, yknow she has lips and he has a fuckin beak so she just decides to give him a lil smooch on the cheek? idk that was just an idea i had in mind, u dont have to write it!

22. basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss.

pairing: revali x reader summary:  revali spirits you away to enjoy the new years eve festivities.

   In the darkness of your room, you awoke to the sound of a soft tapping on your window. Twisting in the mess of blankets and pillows, you pushed aside the papers and textbooks that had accumulated at the foot of the bed, noticing only then that the candle at your desk had long since extinguished. 

Head pounding, you rubbed at your tired eyes, feeling heavy. How long had you been asleep?

The tapping grew more insistent, forcing you to get up. Grumbling, you allowed yourself a second to stretch, ignoring how your room felt like water sloshing in a glass. 

"Yeah, yeah. Hold on!" You said, hobbling to the window. Brushing the mess of hair from your eyes, you pulled the curtains away and roughly pushed it open. 

The culprit hovered outside, eyes bright and smug. Revali looked very much at home though he was floating at a dizzying distance away from the ground. In the sleepy haze, he looked like a painting of some myth you had read before, with the late night sky as his backdrop and the outline of your window as his frame. 

"Took you long enough."

"Apologies. I thought some tree branches were hitting the glass." 

The Rito made a show of turning in the air. "Funny, I don't see any nearby trees."

"I know," you sighed, disappointed. 

Revali rolled his eyes and poked his head through the window, feathers brushing past your cheek as he ignored your personal space in favour of scoping out your room. The stiff turn of his neck as he looked around reminded you of the curious and confused little birds that landed on the sill from time to time. 

"Quite a dreary home you have here." Gesturing to the overall darkness, he pointed to your stack of scattered papers. "You shouldn't study without proper lighting, it's bad for your eyes." 

"I was asleep."

"Why, I'm surprised. And here I thought you were one of the festive many who choose to stay awake at an ungodly hour in order to count down the remaining seconds of the year."

"Well," you shrugged, not wanting to meet his eyes. "Not like it's anything special. New year, same shit. What difference would a countdown do?" 

Biting down on your tongue, you stopped yourself from saying anymore. The cold breeze sifted past the light shirt you were wearing, making you shiver. 

He was right, normally you were one of those people who stayed up, excitedly watching the hands of the clocktower tick til they reached midnight. You enjoyed the energy of being in a collective crowd, waiting with bated breath for the first inhale and exhale you would take into the brand new year.

The final month on the Hylian calendar brought a sense of relief and a hope for new beginnings. Usually today of all days  you were at your happiest, jumping at the prospect of celebrating along with the rest of the kingdom and yet…

That sinking weight clawed at your chest again, forcing you to clamp down on it once more.

You grimaced. There it was; that bitter feeling. Hylia. How annoying. It twisted in your brain like an angry snake, pulling down your mood and enthusiasm along with it. 

Last year you wanted to cheer and dance until the morning light. Now all you felt like was staring at the wall. Or falling asleep. 

You blinked, turning back to the window to see Revali patiently waiting for you to continue. Feeling your face warm, you hustled your brain to get a move on. A coherent thought would be great right about…now!

"Hey have you ever wondered why they don't grow trees on this side of the castle? It's not fair the more expensive quarters get all the pretty greenery. I mean, non-noble guests still need that sweet oxygen everyone keeps raving about, you get me?" Shut up brain, that's enough. I said a coherent thought. C o h e r e n t. 

Stars in his wings, Revali shook his head but answered anyway. "I agree, it's hardly fair. Also go change into something warm, we need to get you outside."

"What? Why?"

Something in the Rito's expression clued you in to the fact that he wasn't in the mood to play stupid. You've been sitting in the dark for the past few days and it didn't take a private investigator to know it was playing tricks with your head. "Fine, but when I say we go back--we go back, got it?"

He huffed, turning around to give you some privacy. "I promise on my honour."

The brightly lit lanterns of the town square made you squint as you shuffled closer to your guide, the sound of the city loud in your ears.

Though less prominent, the twisting feeling in your gut continued, making you more hyper-alert than usual to the world around you. Adjusting the sleeves of your coat, you followed Revali past the streets, the Rito expertly navigating through the sea of people. 

Somewhere along the way he had taken your hand, and you told yourself it was a good way for you both to stick together. Wouldn't want you getting lost and spending the final minutes of the year playing an elaborate game of hide and seek after all. He was a great friend like that. Nevermind that everytime you would hold his wing a little tighter to remind yourself that he was there, he would always squeeze back. 

You needed a distraction. 

Just focus on everything that's not him.

The night was alive with the sound of music. It didn't matter if you partied with an alcoholic drink in hand, or a glass of milk, everyone in Hyrule was filled with an addictive buzz that came with an event that only happened once a year. Vendors with bright smiles called out from their stalls, the smell of freshly baked sweets or the sizzle of a barbecue beckoning you to take a closer look. To your left, a group of friends raised their hands in the air, loudly welcoming a Goron that had turned up late but regardless had finally arrived. 

The archer followed your line of sight, guessing the question bouncing in your head. "Daruk is in Eldin, probably rattling Death Mountain with that story again about the Moblin camp and the barrel of explosives."

"I love that story."

"Of course you would."

"Sorry about your feathers though."

"Whatever, they grew back."

"How about the one's on your--"

"Anyway," he interjected quickly, playfully nudging you to the side and glowering at your laughter. "We've been told to 'take a break'. The other Champions have chosen to spend this day with their families and loved ones. We are planning to regroup and continue preparations in the days following."

"How about you?"

"I already said it."

Your cheeks coloured at the implications of his words, mind replaying the previous sentence. Families and loved ones. Families and loved ones. He didn't even hesitate. You both were not related. So that left you with...

"Woah!" Digging your heels into the dirt, you abruptly paused your brisk walk and saved yourself from colliding with the archer's back. 

Stopping at one of the stalls, Revali held two fingers up. You glanced up at him questioningly but he refused to give anything away, expression relaxed. The vendor returned quickly, the Rito thanking them quietly and placing the payment on the bright yellow table cloth along with a large tip in their jar. 

He turned around, dropping a square shaped pastry into your hands. It was some kind of rice cake, with a fluffy exterior and a golden baked surface that smelled of butter and felt warm like the sun. 

Taking a bite, you smiled at the hints of coconut that were hidden in its sweet flavour. The sticky treat was familiar somehow. "Is this so luck sticks to you in the new year?"

Revali scoffed, though failed to hide his own smile behind the cake held in his wing. "You said the same thing when we first met. You need new material."

"Says the baron of bird puns."

"I am the king." He punctuated the statement by biting into his own rice cake. Offering his wing, he gently took your hand once more, turning back to step again into the busy promenade. 

Following him, you noticed that the crowds ever so slowly began to thin. A lantern lit hill was coming up. The grassy expanse was dotted with a few people, though it was blessingly not as populous as the town square. "I should be the one that's surprised. Thought you hated crowds unless their attentions were all on you."

"It's tolerable so long as I am with good company." 

The both of you walked up the hill with an unspoken agreement to make it to the top. Taking a seat on the grass, you allowed yourself to breathe, chest heaving from the small burst of exercise after days of being sedentary. 

The twinkling lights of Castle Town stretched out before you. Gazing at it, you could imagine all the untold stories hidden in the glowing little pockets of the alleys and in the hushed whispers behind closed doors. Funny how in a city so full of people, one can feel so alone. 

Revali was the first to speak, breaking you from your thoughts. "I think I can understand now. Looking at it from this distance, it really can feel like nothing much has changed."

You continued to stare at the lights, trying to focus on a certain string in an attempt to ground yourself. "Yeah. Sometimes it feels like though the world continues to spin, I'm remaining completely still. Just stagnant."

Frowning, you ran your hands through the grass, feeling the dirt shift under your fingers. You could feel your frustrations building, bubbling up to the surface with no way of dragging them back down. 

"And the challenges just get worse every year. How am I going to face those old problems and these new ones if I'm still the same lost person I was back then?"

Your voice echoed at the last sentence, making you hide your head in embarrassment. That was loud. 

Some strangers relaxing on the hill turned around to flash you an annoyed glare, before quickly returning to their picnics after spotting the Great Eagle Bow on your friend's back. 

 "I'm so sorry." You wanted more than anything then to dig a hole and hibernate preferrably for the next hundred years or so. "I'm yelling, that isn't like me. I'm so so--"

"There's nothing to be sorry about. You needed to say it." He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. There was a serious element to it that made it a little hard to breathe. "There is one part of that I don't agree with, however."

"What is it?"

"That entire section about you, how did you put it, stagnanting." He twisted a wing in the air, thinking on his words before pointing a feather directly at your face. "You're fully capable of enacting the change you want to see in yourself."

You felt a little dizzy now. But another kind of dizzy, one very different from the vertigo you felt waking up in the darkness of your room. 

"And who said you were exactly the same as you were back then? You've changed. In a good way. You're stronger and more capable of things I'm sure the person you were two years ago or even less couldn't even fathom doing." 

Turning to face you, Revali gave you his full attention, compelling you to do the same as the cadence of his speech joined the steady rhythm of your own beating heart. From the back of your mind, you could barely register the sound of people gathering together, their voices floating into the cold night air. 

'Ten!'

"It's difficult to see your own progress from a distance."

'Nine!'

"So take my advice and start looking at yourself up close for once."

'Eight!'

He had that expression on his face, one that said he was thinking too hard about something. It was like watching him try to pull the planets together with just a piece of string. His brows were furrowed so deep that your fingers wished to run over his feathers and smoothe the worried creases. 

'Seven!'

You slowly reached out to him, giving him enough time to back away. Revali stilled as your hands traced up the nape of his neck, leaning in as his pulse thrummed underneath the soft pads of your fingertips. 

'Six!'

He opened his beak the moment you reached his face. You paused, half expecting him to tell you to let go and pretend like it never happened. 

Instead, he called out your name. 

'Five!'

He said your name again, though quieter now. It was enough to tug at the invisible force drawing you two together. Enough so that the polite distance nervously enforced by the both of you gradually began to dissipate, trailing away like a ribbon of smoke as you both leaned in closer.

'Four!'

"May I--," He cleared his throat, eyes darting away for a second before they were back on you again. Bright green in the lantern light. Emeralds in the desert sand. 

'Three!'

"May I kiss you?"

"Yes."

'Two!'

"Your way or mine?" You couldn't help but joke. Revali smiled, exhaling a soft joyful laugh before pressing his forehead to yours. 

'One!'

'Happy New Year!'

An earth-shaking boom rattled your ears, but all you could think of in that moment was Revali and the feel of his feathers against your skin; the utter elation of being so close to someone you deeply cared for and that cared just as deeply for you. 

In the dazzling light you lifted your head from his, both your eyes meeting for a brief moment. Hands moving, you gently angled his face with a steady hand, feeling then the soft, butterfly light brush of his wings on your waist.

Closing your eyes again, you leaned in to press your lips against his beak, the blush on your face warmer than any fever or furnace. The Rito's soft sigh was barely audible as you trailed your kisses upwards, stopping at the red circle on his cheek. 

Revali laughed again as you turned his face to press a kiss to the identical red mark on the other side. "You're very thorough."

"You deserve it." You beamed. "And this is just the beginning, just you wait at the end of the countdown I'll--"

"Actually my dear," he grinned, pointing to the sky. 

"Huh?"

Above you were the vibrant colours of the firework display. It was beautiful and awe-inspiring, but a confirmation that you were definitely minutes in to the new year.

"Oh," you said, before shaking your head with a smile. "It's fine, we got 12 more months to prepare ourselves for the next one."

Revali nodded, pulling you closer so he could press your foreheads together again.

"Indeed," he grinned. "Now will you finish your sentence? What exactly were you going to do at the end of the countdown?"

fin. 

[lady-charinette]

Can you do a reader insert for Ranmaru from Kakuriyo? Maybe a human brought to Orio-ya by Ougan douji to turn the old building into a restaurant and he's surprised that it's become so popular?

“That woman…” Ranmaru adjusted his position against one of the wooden beams supporting Orio-ya, hands crossed over his chest at the sight before him.

Ayakashi bustling about, Orio-ya’s staff cleaning and guiding customers to their seats and in the center of all the controlled chaos was one woman.

One human woman.

Mistress Ougon-douji had brought you into Orio-ya, there had been no doubt in Ranmaru’s mind where she found you.

Ever since Aoi and subsequently Tenjin’ya had visited their inn, life as they knew it began to change.

Ayakashi from far and wide visited their inn, intrigued by the knowledge of the temporary reunion between the two most popular inns, as well as Tenjin’ya’s resident human having been an esteemed guest. “Esteemed” might not have been the word Ranmaru would’ve used since the beginning of Aoi’s stay here, but that had certainly changed with time. Now that peace existed between the two inns, even Ginji visited more often.

And today was one of those days.

“There you are Ranmaru! The restaurant sure seems to be successful, its almost as popular as Aoi’s back at Tenjin’ya! What’re you doing here standing all alone? Huh?” the nine tailed fox followed the dog ayakashi’s line of sight and spotted you who’d transformed the old, unused section of their inn into a lively restaurant. A devious smile spread the sly fox’s lips, “Ah, I recognize that look.”

Ranmaru bristled, hair standing on end and tail hitting Ginji completely intentionally, “What are you talking about?” he barked, pushing himself off the beam and moving onto a different less populated area.

He didn’t notice your curious gaze staring at his back as he rounded the corner.

Ginji, of course, followed suit. “You look just like the Master whenever he looks at Aoi! They make quiet a couple, you know?” Ginji switched sides and moved to Ranmaru’s right, just in time to avoid the violent arm swinging at the spot he had previously been in.

“Nonsense! Maybe the sake got to you Ginji, you’ve never been a good drinker.” Ginji allowed the remark to slide, watching his childhood friend stomp his way towards the general direction of the receptionist desk.

He scoffed, a lopsided smile on his lips. “I haven’t, but you’ve never been a good liar, Ranmaru.” With a shake of his head, Ginji made his way back to the festivities, making his way towards you to ask if you needed help with anything.

It was late when the restaurant in Orio-ya closed, you were kindly helping customers up to their feet and back into the inn, their steps heavy and uneven as the sake still buzzed in their bodies.

Your back hurt from all the preparations made for the restaurant, at least you didn’t have to cook everything on your own, the talented chefs of Orio-ya had been more than welcome to help you out.

“Of course, you’re now a part of Orio-ya, we help each-other here.” You appreciated how attentive everyone seemed to you, willing to help you adjust in the Hidden Realm among ayakashi as a sole human.

Well, almost.

There was always Aoi, who had been a tremendous help in getting you back on your feet and making sure you were protected and could hold your own against ayakashi. Tenjin’ya’s master had been kind enough to recommend you to the mistress of Orio-ya for hired help, since they were short staffed and needed fresh ideas to get their inn back on track.

You were more than alright with that, you missed leading your own restaurant back at home, and since you didn’t have the same abilities as the ayakashi, you thought it might be best to stick to what you knew and help them out.

As it turned out, Orio-ya had accepted you fairly quickly. Apparently, Aoi had humbled them quite a bit, some staff members were a bit brutish towards you for being human, but for the most part you felt perfectly safe.

That was largely thanks to Orio-ya’s lead manager, Ranmaru. Having not met a dog ayakashi before, you had been pretty taken with him, especially due to his big mane and his fluffy tail. Not to mention those ears.

Unfortunately, he acted anything but like a dog.

He seemed to be more of a cat than a dog, at least like the animals in your world.

He would mostly avoid you if he could, slipping past you whenever he could, only appearing when it suited him. But you weren’t stupid, you felt his gaze whenever you ventured outside of the inn, taking a walk through the forest. You were warned not to venture too far away, for the possibility of encountering monsters or unfriendly ayakashi but so far, nothing happened to you.

You thought it might’ve something to do with the dog ayakashi always being somewhere in your vicinity. Far away enough he thought you wouldn’t notice, but close enough to keep an eye on you.

Hideyoshi once corrected you on Ranmaru being a komainu, a lion-dog ayakashi, not purely a dog ayakashi. When you asked what the difference was, Hideyoshi had been curiously tongue tied, just snapping at you to never treat him like a lowly dog from your world.

You’d felt mildly offended, what was wrong with dogs? They were cute and fluffy and very loyal companions. So far, Ranmaru didn’t seem to really fit her world dog’s description.

Well…he was fluffy. At least judging from his hair and tail.

And he was cute or at least as cute as you were willing to admit to yourself.

You did know he was loyal to Orio-ya and its inhabitants but you didn’t think that same loyalty extended to you yet..or if ever.

Ranmaru didn’t seem to like you very much, no matter how hard you worked at befriending him and getting on his good side. It just seemed like he put walls all around him to keep you as far away from him as possible.

Your troubled musings were interrupted when something hit the ground with a dull thud.

It was Ranmaru.

The komainu had set up a table near the edge of Orio-ya’s porch, overlooking the sea. A bottle of sake and two bowls were on the table.

He didn’t even look at you when he spoke, his voice low and uncharacteristically lacking the typical bite which he usually barked commands at you, “Sit.”

Debating whether or not to tell him you weren’t his servant nor a dog, you took a deep breath and decided to follow his lead. This had been his first direct attempt at engaging in conversation with you, at least conversation that so far didn’t have anything to do with Orio-ya or the restaurant.

You sat on the opposite side of him, your gaze straying to the beautiful night sky before your head whipped around at the sound of trickling liquid.

Ranmaru was pouring you sake.

Finally, his gaze briefly met your stunned one, scoffing at the bewildered look on your face. “You seem surprised,” he nudged the bowl of sake towards you, before moving to pour himself a cup.

This time, it was him that was stunned when your hands landed on his, gently taking the sake bottle from him. He seemed even more stunned when you poured him sake, “Can you blame me? This is the first time you tried to talk to me and didn’t just watch me from afar.”

The komainu seemed oddly flustered, whether at being caught red-handed or that you were aware of his guarded gazes.

He cleared his throat, choosing not to comment and taking a sip from his sake. You did the same.

You drank together quietly, at the now clean porch of Orio-ya, both staring up at the night sky littered with stars and the moon.

Perhaps it was the fatigue hitting you from working a full day at Orio-ya with the newly opened restaurant, or the alcohol in your system, but you felt compelled to utter the words that left your mouth, “You know, ever since coming here, I’ve been scared what would become of me. If I would survive in this world, or if I would ever find a way to go back to mine. Since I met Aoi and saw how happy she was here, I’m beginning to think that…maybe its alright if I don’t return to my world.” You stared down at the clear liquid in your bowl, watching the moon’s reflection staring back at your pensive face.

Ranmaru was listening intently, trying to find the right words to answer you. It seemed like the bowl of sake gave him the inspiration, or the confidence, to finally speak. “You’ve been adjusting rather well here, despite all your…shortcomings.”

You huffed in annoyance at his remark, turning your head away from him.

A low chuckle filled your ears and his voice followed, “I think you’ll live here just fine, as long as you stay at Orio-ya, that is.”

You looked back at him in surprise, blinking rapidly. “You…you want me to…stay?”

The ghost of a smile adorned the komainu’s handsome face. “You’ve opened up this restaurant, someone has to lead it.” He lifted his bowl to his lips, blue eyes swimming with unspoken thoughts. “And…some of Orio-ya’s staff seemed to have…developed a soft spot for you.”

You weren’t sure if this was the sake talking or not, but you found yourself mirroring his stance, your voice soft when you said, “Well…I…developed a soft spot for…them too.” You could feel your cheeks heating up but blamed it on the alcohol.

The stars seemed to wink down at you, so mesmerized were you at their beauty that you failed to catch Ranmaru’s gentle smile.

Thanks for reading! It’s been a long while since I wrote for the fandom, so I hope it’s not too OOC and that you liked it :3

[veryreallyfuckinbad]

FIRE AND MOSS // Daryl Dixon X Reader// CHAPTER 6

TW: Strong language, implied abusive relationships, injury.

The Greene farm basked in the light of the impending sunrise, coating the land in a blanket of oranges, yellows and pinks. Birds began to sing, chirping away, oblivious to the dead people stalking every corner, every street, hiding in every shadow. Your heart filled with strange nostalgia and envy,- you wished you could be as free and uncaring as the winged critters. A strange phenomenon began taking place when the apocalypse hit; the world ended only for people. Nature seemed to be thriving more than ever without people slowly but surely killing it. Vegetation grew from cracks of abandoned houses’ floors, apartments previously filled with chatter and laughter were now home to wild animals. Nature took back what was hers quicker than you expected, signs of her healing around every corner, in every single flower, weed, blooming tree, moss. Most of the previously heavily populated areas smelled like death, the sickly sweet-ish stench of rotting bodies, both of the ones that perished forever and the ones that walked. The forest and the Greene farm, however, smelled like the life you knew. Like carelessness, confidence.

Your feet made slow but steady steps, avoiding making too much noise- Daryl was asleep in his tent and the worst thing you could do was wake him up as he hardly ever got any shut eye. You were certain you were the only one awake, so you stepped through the grass with care, avoiding any twigs that could snap and wake the others up. As you made your way to Dale’s trailer, deciding to take watch duty, you heard a faint, familiar sound coming from behind the trailer. Jake heard it too, instantly tensing, ready to pounce at any danger that might cross your path. You signaled the fox with your hand to relax when you recognized the sound- it was crying. You peeked from behind the RV and instantly felt your heart drop.

Carol was sat on the wet grass, crying, her hands on her head as she tried to control her weeps. Deciding it’s best to let her know you’re there instead of sneaking up on her, you spoke in a half-whisper, “Carol? Are you okay?” when the words left your mouth you realized how plain stupid that question was. Her daughter, all she had left, was missing. Carol’s head whipped to face you, her eyes red and puffy from crying, her cheeks stained with many glistering patterns of where her tears rolled down. When she realized it was only you, she sighed with a mixture of relief and something akin to confusion. She tried, immensely at that, to stop herself from breaking down once again and gave you a sad, unconvincing smile. You dipped your head and took a step towards her, taking a seat beside her.

“I’m just so scared, (Y/N). What if we never find her? Or if we do, it’ll be too-“ her voice trembled, just like her hands did.

“Stop it.” You silenced her, choosing your next words carefully. “I’m not going to say that I have no idea what you must be going through- it’s true, but you’ve heard it a million times already” you looked at her and stared deep into her horrified eyes. “Carol, I know you’re afraid. I do. Hear me out, though; you’ve got two grade A trackers at your disposal.” You gave her a warm smile.

“You can track?” she asked, clearly surprised.

You chuckled lightly, “Nope. He can.” you stroked Jake’s soft fur and watched as Carol’s eyes lit up slightly and shimmered with a glimpse of hope.

“How can he do that? I-I mean,” she stumbled over her words, “what does he need? A scent?”

“He’s not trained or anything, but he’s fantastic at finding stuff.” Your hand left Jake’s head when he shifted and stood up, walking up to Carol and sitting between you and her. He must’ve felt how heartbroken she was because he lowered his snout down to the woman’s hand and after giving it a brief sniff, he licked it and bumped it with his nose slightly. You smiled with pride and happiness.

“See? He promised he’ll do his best.” You said and watched Carol’s eyes light up again.

Carol sniffled and dug in one of her pockets, quickly handing you the item she was looking for. It was a piece of fabric, carefully cut around the edges.

“It’s a piece of her blanket. I keep it in my pocket to at least have a piece of her with me.” She explained and handed you the soft fabric. You knew she trusted you- she wouldn’t give the last of what she had left of her daughter to just anyone.

“We’ll go search right now.” You smiled at her and felt her fall apart all over again, this time because of gratitude. She crawled up to you and wrapped her arms around you, engulfing you in a warm, thankful embrace.

“Thank you so much” she nearly cried again. You hugged back and whispered a soft ‘you’re welcome’. Carol let go of you to face Jake and look into his eyes with the same respect she’s given you. “Thank you, too.” She extended her arm to touch him and you were about to jump in to stop her, afraid of Jake’s response, but stopped when you saw him pull his head into her hand, allowing her to touch him. It seemed like he was comforting her, as well as reassuring her he’ll do everything he can.

The farmland was still covered in the pink-orange light when you returned to your tent to retrieve your bag, just in case you found something worth taking. You’d hoped Daryl was still asleep and worried that your shuffling might’ve woke him up, so you carefully stepped closer to his tent to make sure he was sleeping. With each step, it became increasingly more clear that the archer was, in fact, not in his tent- the zip entrance was left open. You didn’t want to be nosy���but you wanted to check if he was okay. At least that’s what you told yourself- you’ve always wondered how his tent looks from the inside. You couldn’t tell whether it was pure curiosity or the burning need to find out more about the man. Before you could poke your head inside, you felt a presence right behind you, looming over you. Daryl stood right behind you.

“Found what ya were lookin’ for?” he asked, his voice not carrying as much weight as you’d expected it to. He didn’t appear mad, just irritated. Or so you hoped. You tried your best to keep your cool and turn around to face him, taking a step back when you realized how close he was.

“Now I did.” You smiled at him but your eyes betrayed you- he could feel your anxiety and uncertainty. He was usually frustrated with how hard you were to read, but the look in your eyes seemed familiar, like he’s seen you do it before but couldn’t put his finger on it.

Ever since the night Jake allowed Daryl to touch him, he was more confused than ever. The archer couldn’t understand how you- someone who’s been through so much, more than you’d let on, could be so friendly and loving towards her group. She never took and only gave, thinking of her fox and the group before herself. There was one more thing he couldn’t wrap his mind around and it drove him crazy- why would she give him special treatment? She opened up to him and him only, never allowed anybody except him see her cry, gave him handmade gifts, trusted him with her beloved companion. Not that you didn’t annoy him at times, but everybody did. Sometimes, you didn’t know when to stop talking and while he tolerated it for the longest time, sometimes he just had to send you back to your tent to give him room to breathe. He loved that you never took it personally, always conscious of his need for space.

“What’s the bag for?” he eyed you and patiently awaited your response before adding, “Ya movin’ out?”

“Oh, I would never.” You smirked at him and crossed your arms. “You’d miss me too bad, Dixon” you teased and expected a grunt or shrug in response, but to your surprise he retorted.

“ ‘f course. Who would sit with me when I cry my eyes out?” he smirked back at you, clearly a jab for the time you broke down in front of him. You rolled your eyes and stood on your tiptoes to affectionately ruffle his hair, much to his displeasure. You enjoyed how you could crack jokes at each other now, he had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor that you found hilarious in his own, strange way.

“You know you love me.” You teased him while turning your back to him and walking away, finally about to go out searching. “I’m going out to look for Sophia with Jake.”

“I’m comin’ with ya.” He said matter of factly, as if you had no say in it.

“If you do, Shane won’t get off my ass for the rest of the day. He already dislikes me, just wait until I ‘unnecessarily take away manpower from the farm’ or some shit like that.” Everything you said was true. You got along with every resident of the farm, with the exception of Shane. He never began trusting you and didn’t even think of trying. He always tried to control the group, but you never listened to him, probably because of the lack of mutual respect. The only people anyone in the group took orders from were Rick and Hershel.

“He can try. Screw ‘im. I’m comin’ with.” His mind was made and you decided not to argue with the stubborn archer.

“To be fair, I can see why you’d want to spend time with me. I’m the shit.” You heard Daryl scoff and shake his head, but once you looked at his face more closely, you realized he was smiling. “C’mon, let’s get the horses ready.”

Hooves hit gently against the ground, the horse’s head swaying subtly as he walked. You felt quite confident on the animal’s back, but Daryl seemed anxious. His broad shoulders looked even wider as he tensed, cautious- he didn’t trust the animal. Jake trotted alongside your horse, occasionally running off to check something out, but always came back. Your trusty knife was sheathed and safely buckled to your pants- ever since you got it back, you didn’t leave camp without it.

“You know, you gotta trust the horse a little. At least try.” You tried to nudge him, but you knew it was futile. If you were honest, you just wanted the awkward silence to end. Daryl looked at you and raised his brows.

“These things are unpredictable though,” he began and shrugged, “Merle ‘n I once…borrowed a neighbors horse, he had a stable or some shit.” He smiled to himself “Fucker bucked me off ‘n I fell right on my ass.” He finished and looked at you, awaiting your reaction. When you burst into laughter all he do was shake his head and grunt in response. “Couldn’t sit proper for days.”

You chuckled some more, your smile so contagious that even he mimicked it. For some reason, he didn’t mind you laughing at his story all that much.

“So it is a childhood trauma?” you nudged him again, half-joking and offered him a playful smirk. To your surprise, that didn’t seem to amuse him, his smile quickly fading before he gave you a sad smile. You realized you probably hit a nerve with that statement. “I’m so sorry.”

“ ‘s fine. What hurt me more was yer laughing at my sore ass.” He turned his head slightly to look at you from the side with the same smile as moments before appearing on his face. Quickly, silence fell upon you once again. This time, it was almost deafening and you didn’t understand why- when you sat with him by the campfire, you felt completely comfortable in silence with the man. It was like the warmth of the flame engulfed you like a soft blanket and made you immune to the man’s frustratingly quiet nature.

Daryl grasped the reins tightly as if to comfort himself- the feeling of leather straps digging into his palm was strangely comforting. The hunter’s hair fell upon his forehead; it was growing longer. He didn’t care but wondered whether it was practical to live in the death-ridden world with strands of hair falling over his eyes. He glanced upon you, your eyes on Jake. You stared at the fox with such love, nothing but pure affection. Not in the way you’d look at a puppy or any other pet- you looked at him as a valuable, fully capable member of the group. You saw him as a survivor, and Daryl admired that. He watched as your hair swayed and jumped gently with every step your horse took. He was lost in his own thoughts while he gazed at you, he wondered why he couldn’t force himself to push you away or tell you to move your tent back to the group. He guessed that that’s what it was like to have a friend.

“So, since we’re gonna be riding for a long time” you began, cutting through the silence and Daryl’s thoughts as he immediately averted his gaze and hoped you didn’t catch him looking at you. You did. “Tell me something about yourself” you smiled at him sincerely.

“Ya sound like a god damn hairdresser” he scoffed and shrugged, “make sure to ask me how’s school, too.”

You chuckled and shook your head, giving him a side-eye. You awaited his response, but it never came. If you had to take one more minute of that awkward silence, you’d rather dig a hole and jump straight in.

“Let me start, then.” You began and rolled your eyes. “I’m (Y/N)” you heard him mumble a ‘wow’ underneath his breath and shushed him with a smile, “For real, though. One thing you might have noticed about me is I make horrible decisions.” You grinned at him

“Such as?”

“Like setting my tent up next to yours” you joked and heard him chuckle- it was a fantastic sound. It made you happy in all kinds of ways, maybe because it was so rare, it was special. “Anything, really. Laying on broken glass that one time”, you grinned at your dry joke, reminiscing about how that very day led you to meeting your new family, “I dunno, anything really. School, back when that was a thing, the people I hung out with, relationships.”

He stilled at that last word. Not because he was uncomfortable or unwilling to listen to her talk about it but because he was worried that someone hurt you.

“What d’ya mean?” he glanced at you curiously, “The relationship part.”

You smiled uncomfortably, unsure whether you should share or not. You mentally slapped yourself for letting that last part come out- you should’ve expected him to ask. Even though you’ve somewhat healed, talking about it out loud was never easy. Moss still grew on your heart.

“Oh, you know. Jackasses that, uh…” you stumbled over your words as Daryl watched you carefully, “Whenever they were mad, they took it out on me.” You gave him a reassuring smile, trying to show how confident you were, how you’ve healed. It was only partially true- sometimes it still hurt. “This one dude,” you began, this time with a chuckle, “got so pissed at me for wanting something stupid, flowers I think, for my birthday.” You smiled at him half-heartedly. Daryl stared at you and tried to decode your expression. He, however, was easy to read at that very moment- he was pissed. Not at you, but at the men you’ve been with. The archer guessed you didn’t want his pity, however. He knew it would only make it worse.

“Ya didn’t lie when ya called him a jackass” he smirked at you for a brief moment, “I get it.”

You’ve finally reached your destination- a small creek with a two-way path. Twigs grew out of the ground where the drop of a small trench-like pit began. Deciding it’s best to split up to cover as much ground as possible, Daryl took the left and you- the right path. You’d promised each other to meet at this very creek later on.

As the hours passed, nothing came of your search. Jake ran around, sniffing the cloth Carol gave you from time to time but found nothing, say for a rabbit that he promptly caught and ate. You couldn’t believe the girl was just gone, without a trace at that. You couldn’t allow yourself to believe that- you’d lose all the hope you had left. With a heavy sigh, you turned around and began heading back through the dense woodland, back to the spot you were supposed to meet Daryl at. The forest smelled fresh- the repulsive stench of death was replaced with the sweet scent of flowers and the gentle smell of grass and trees.

When you reached your meeting spot you looked around and quickly came to the conclusion that Daryl was still out looking. With a sigh, you hopped off your horse and tied it’s reins to a sturdy branch. Before you could sit down and relax, you heard a horrifying grunt coming from the trench. Sure it was a walker, you grabbed your knife and took careful steps, making sure not to slip on the wet, muddy grass. Jake beat you to it, running to whatever was making the noise and immediately beginning to shriek and call for you. Your legs moved on their own, not caring about being cautious anymore. When you arrived to where Jake stood, just over the ledge, you looked down into the hollow and felt your breath get stuck in your throat.

Daryl was trying to climb out of the trench, slipping on the mud and desperately grasping for any branch that could support his weight to pull himself up. He was covered in blood, his mouth was red and something was hung on his neck. Blood was trickling from his side and dripping on his pants, staining his shirt. He quickly noticed you and stared at you. He looked different, no life in his steel-blue eyes. None of the spark they usually had, they were glossy, confused and afraid. Thinking quickly, you grabbed onto a root sticking out of the ground for support and extended your hand to him. He looked dazed, as if unsure what to do, whether he should grab your hand, but quickly decided to do so. You felt his strong grasp on your wrist as you tried to pull him up, heaving and wincing from the pain of his grip on your wrist. Your feet began slipping and you almost fell down the trench. The grip of his hand was so strong that you were sure he would eventually break it.

“Hold on!”

You braced yourself and with one last, painful pull he was out of the creek. He laid on his back next to you, both of your chests heaving and breathing deeply. You didn’t allow yourself to rest though, quickly kneeling next to him and inspecting his wound.

“What the hell happened?” your eyes were full of fear and worry, “Daryl, talk to me. Please.”

He grunted, clearly in pain and in a feverish state.

“Arrow. Fell on it”

--------

A/N: I'm so sorry this took me so long, I was super busy and then had a massive writer's block. This chapter definitely isn't the best but I promise the next one will be much better! <3

--------

taglist <3

@writers-adversary @kimchiwen @mileysnavely @srhxpci

[starlightrows]

In The Eye Of The Beholder

Chapter 3

← Previous - Next →

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Oral (m and f receiving), mild anti-clone sentiments,

Summary: Commander Wolffe returns to Coruscant for a check in appointment for the study, and scores another date with you!

As time passes the irritated skin around the scar crossing Wolffe’s face begins to fade. He’s back on deployment now, somewhere in the galaxy leading his troops and carrying out orders. But he is still part of the study on the effectiveness of his prothesetic, he obviously can’t come in for case study updates in person, so instead he has scheduled holo calls with you.

The holocalls should really only take about fifteen minutes, thirty if he’s experiencing issues that require scheduling an in person appointment for adjustment or troubleshooting. But each call lands up being closer to an hour, or two depending on how much time he could truly get away with not being on duty.

You talk about your job, he talks about the war effort. You tell him funny stories from your time studying in medical school. He tells you about the stupid things he’s witnessed various memebrs of his squad (and other battalions) do. You describe what it was like growing up on your homeworld. He describes growing up with three million siblings on a planet that never had a day without rain. Food, music, sleeping habits, things you love, things you hate. The two of you never struggle to find something to talk about.

When he isn’t talking to you on holocalls, you’re always on his mind. Every little thing he sees and does, he finds himself thinking of what kind of comment you would make on the situation. Would you laugh at his brother's antics, or scold them alongside him? What advice would you provide when he is faced with a tough decision? He finds himself looking up into the night sky when stationed on far away planets and wondering just how much distance is between the two of you at this moment, and how long would it be before he could close that distance?

His answer comes sooner than he expected it would. General Plo informs him that the battalion will be returning to Coruscant for the purpose of several squads being transferred or reassigned to the battalion as well as the General needed to attend a series of council meetings in person. General Plo also mentioned that it would be best if he contacted you to schedule a check in for his prosthetic.

Briefly Wolffe wondered if the General knew of his evening he spent off the base with you, but ultimately decided two things. He probably did not, the General is a busy man with many responsibilities, too many to notice the comings and goings of every trooper (or commander) that serves under him. And, even if he did, he didn’t care.

Wolffe uses the excuse to schedule a case study appointment to take over an hour to himself in his quarters talking to you on the coms. He tells you he is returning to Coruscant, and he’ll be stationed there for at least four days. Internally he debates asking you outright to go out with him again. He doesn’t normally get much enjoyment from going out to the bars, but he had so much fun dancing with you last time. To his delight you beat him to the punch.

“So, if you’re gonna be planetside for a little while would you consider coming with me to see some live music and have a couple drinks?” You ask with a hint of heat creeping up into your cheeks. You’ve been looking forward to taking a night off to enjoy this free outdoor concert, but if Wolffe could come with you it would be all the more special.

The grouchy commander with a charming smile and quick wit has grown on you. After he tried to leave before, you were afraid that you’d made a mistake inviting him back to your apartment for sex. But he’s proven you wrong in the last couple months. He’s eager and engaged in your biweekly holocalls. And moreso, he seems eager to see you again.

“I could go for some music and drinks. You gonna dance with me again?” he teases

“Get enough drinks in me and you just might get your wish, commander”

In a few days time, you hear from him that he’s arrived on Coruscant and he’s looking forward to seeing you. Unfortunately you can’t get away from work the first day he’s planetside, with your date scheduled for the second day of his shore leave. You’re distracted throughout that day, thinking about seeing him again. You briefly considered comming him at the end of your shift to invite him back to your apartment. But you decide against it, he’s probably enjoying some downtime with his brothers or by himself, and he’s already agreed to spend time with you tomorrow.

Your assumption is partially correct. He is spending some downtime with his brothers in the barracks in the Coruscant base, they’re passing around a bottle of spotchka playing drinking games. Wolffe is having a good time, but he would honestly rather be with you.

The next morning he turns up at your office in his officers uniform for his case study appointment. You welcome him inside in a professional manner, but the second the door is closed you take his hand and lean up to kiss his cheek.

“Welcome back Commander,”

The appointment is relatively quick, just a series of eye movement tests and a questionnaire on symptoms and side effects he’s experienced since having the prosthetic placed. Though it does take all of your concentration to focus on actually collecting the data and not getting sidetracked by flirty conversation. There will be time enough for that later.

When the appointment is finished, you excuse yourself to go to the fresher and change into something more appropriate for spending the day out. You returned looking lovely in a comfortable but stylish outfit. You lock up your office and the two of you set out for the day. The concert isn’t until later in the afternoon, leaving plenty of time to stroll through the various levels of the city.

As you go along, you begin to notice more and more eyes on the pair of you. Many civilians are of the opinion that the clones should not be permitted to spend their off hours among the population of civilized planets. People are afraid of them, bred for war… the words scary, hostile, and unstable often get thrown around. You make a point to keep in step with Wolffe and enjoy every moment of your time with him. People can stare all they want, you’ve been looking forward to this.

The pair of you arrive at the outdoor venue and find a high table that gives you a good view of that stage without being too close. You order drinks and finger food to snack on while you wait for the concert to start. The sun is quickly setting, the lights meant to illuminate the stage and patio come on.

Wolffe looks dashing in his officers uniform, but you can’t decide if it is more or less comfortable than the armor. You’ll have to ask him later, because now the musicians are starting to play. The music is fun and lively, loud enough to drown out the two of you talking and laughing, but not loud enough you can’t hear each other like at the club last time.

Wolffe didn’t initially think going to see live music in a small venue like this would be enjoyable, he’s not really a music person as it is. But he has a great time, music is so much better hearing it in person, and all the more fun when you have a pretty date who likes to dance after a couple drinks.

It’s not raunchy sexually motivated dancing like before, though that was fun too, your dancing tonight is playful and fun. Your smile shines bright under the twinkling patio lights as he spins and dips you. When the concert ends there is applause from the audience thanking the musicians for their fantastic performance. Wolffe is almost disappointed the show is over, if he had it his way he would get to twirl you around and make you laugh all night long.

Well… that might still be an option in another sense.

Your apartment isn’t too far away, so you walk with your hand in the crook of his arm back to your place. When you get inside you offer him a glass of wine, and sit together in your living room.

“Thanks for coming out with me tonight,” you say warmly

“How could I say no? I love to see you dance,” he replies with a hint of a smirk. You lean in a little and hold his gaze with lips ever so slightly parted, an invitation if he’s willing to accept it.

He does, closing the gap between you to smooth his lips over yours in a kiss. You taste the wine on his lips, dark and sweet. You let your jaw slack a little as his tongue gently pushes past your lips to explore your mouth. Warmth pools low in your tummy, the hand he has placed at your waist is distracting since his thumb slowly stroking over the bottom curve of your breast. But you stay focused, you’ve got something in mind for tonight.

Breaking away from the kiss you make your move, pushing him away from you and back into the couch. “I want to do something for you,” you say in a low sultry tone, hoping he’d trust you enough to lead. He quirks a brow, curious as to your intentions.

You slide off the couch and settle yourself at his feet, pushing his knees open. He eyes you with an air of caution “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says. But damn does he want it, just the sight of you slipping down between his legs already has him half hard.

You run your hands up the outsides of his thighs, and curl your fingers around the top of his trousers. “I want to do this”

He nods and settles back with a smirk “You were planning this weren’t you?” He growls as you work his pants off. You give him an innocent look and bat your eyelashes teasingly. You free his cock from his grays, curving up towards his stomach, hard in anticipation.

You reach out and take him in your hand, licking a stripe up the underside of his shaft and closing your lips over the head. He lets out a groan as you take him deeper into your mouth, sucking as you go.

“Such a good girl taking my cock” he groans.

You begin bobbing your head clinging to his thighs for support. You could feel yourself getting wet with arousal too, his groans and praise getting to you. You use your hand to pump the base of his cock you can’t get to with your mouth, and the other to start massaging his balls. His grunts and moans began getting louder and more desperate.

“I’m close” he moaned “Go on baby, finish me off”

You took him down into your throat, as deep as you could before starting to gag and sucked at him, coaxing him over the edge. You could feel him tightening up, his feral grunts and moans becoming erratic and unrestrained. You pull off of him about half way and open your mouth wide, stroking his cock in quick firm movements. His head drops back onto the couch, grunting and panting as he cums into your waiting mouth.

His head snaps back forward, eyes taking in the sight of you with his cum painted over your lips and in your pretty mouth. He leans forward, reaching out to pinch your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. You poke your tongue out just a bit, and let him admire the sight of his release.

“Swallow it” he growls

You respond by licking your lower lip and drawing your tongue back into your mouth swallowing whatever you hadn’t already. He surges forward and crashes his lips down on yours. He pulls you up from your spot on the ground, and into his lap. His hands are everywhere, roaming down your back, over the curve of your ass, around to your tummy and up to cup your breasts through your pretty little shirt. He finally breaks the kiss, panting from exertion but still riled up.

“Let me return the favor,” he growls, flipping you over, taking you down to lay back on the couch. He takes his time, peeling off your pants, stripping your top off, and undoing the clasps of your bra. He leans over and kisses you again with a kind of intensity you’ve never experienced before. It’s not exactly rough, it’s hungry and desperate. His hands massage your breasts, deftly rolling your nipples between his fingers. You moan into the kiss.

“You like that baby?” He trails his lips down your neck, and kisses them hollow at the base. You wiggle your hips, the wetness pooling in your nether regions becoming a little uncomfortable. He chuckles darkly, and resumes kissing his way down your body. He stops just at your panty line, looking up at you with a bit of mischief in his eyes.

Without breaking eye contact, he carefully bites the waistband of your panties and begins to drag them down. Your breath hitches at the sight, and you lift your hips up just a bit to help him get them off. When he gets them down to about your knees, he releases them from between his teeth and uses one hand to tear them away.

Then he’s leaning back down, and leaving a trail of wet kisses and little bites from the inside of your knee up your leg, getting closer and closer to where you need him most. His hands slide up the backs of your thighs and lifts you about an inch or two off the couch to his waiting mouth.

His tongue slides between your folds and he begins to lap at your wetness. He teases your aching hole with the most tantalizing strokes of his tongue, switches it up by nosing his way up to your clit and suckling at it, squeezing your ass and moaning into you.

You’re moaning, panting, flushed with heat and getting closer and closer to a release.

“Wolffe,” you moan “please… please… please… make me cum”

He glances up and sees your eyes have fluttered shut, your head tipped back and chest heaving with strained breath. He speeds his movements, suckles at your clit with alternating flicks of his tongue and groans at the sounds of your pleasure.

Your hands twist around the edge of the sofa cushions, needing something to cling onto as your climax overtakes you. Your moans and whimpers stall out, and your voice cuts off as you cum. Your legs tremble in his hold, signaling him to slow down his movements and pull away from your glistening cunt as you come down from your high.

He crawls back over you, catching your lips in another kiss. You taste yourself on him, and come back to reality.

“Stars….” you whisper, breaking the kiss “You didn’t tell me you had a secret talent, Commander”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be much of a secret would it?” He kisses you again, the desperation has subsided but the hunger is still there.

“You gonna try to take off on me or are you sticking around for breakfast tomorrow?” You tease him. You get the feeling he knew he was welcome to stay again, but still make the joke just in case.

“If the offer is on the table?” He quirks an eyebrow at your comment, and gives you a smirk.

On the table you think to yourself maybe next time….

Tag List: @ems-alexandra @thefact0rygirl @ajeff855

[rhysismydaddy]

An Artful Revenge pt. 6 (Feysand)

Part of the Damnation series. 

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

This is the last part of this fic! Gonna work on some asks next, then start the Nessian story (see the link above for details) 

~Feyre~

Men, in general, are beyond stupid.

I honestly don’t even know how the male population is still around.

I mean sure, they have their moments. Fire? Pretty cool. 

Maybe I should amend my statement: Men are stupid when it comes to women.

Because if Tamlin had any common sense, he would wonder why I drag myself into his office downtown, the day after I found out who he really is.

He’d wonder how I even found his posh little office, since he sure as hell never told me about it. (Answer: Rhysand). 

He’d wonder why I’m crying and having an emotional breakdown, but am still dressed in a lowcut dress with my hair done. (Answer: men are even stupider when it comes to a woman with exposed breasts). 

But he doesn’t.

He sees me stumbling toward him, a mess of tears and fluffy hair, and jumps to his feet, coming to my rescue.

His arms wrap around me miraculously at the same time my legs give out, and I fall into him dramatically. 

That was a little much, but what can I say? I was a theatre kid.

“Feyre,” he says calmly, stroking my hair like he didn’t insult me twenty-four hours ago. In fact, he’s acting like we didn’t even break up. “What’s wrong?”

I press my face in his shoulder, trying not to think about how wrong this feels, how wrong he smells. 

Rhysand smells like citrus and the sea and something so manly it makes my knees go weak for real. Tamlin smells like dirt and bad decisions. 

“You were right.” It’s something all men love to hear a woman say, even though it’s hardly ever true. “You were so right, Tamlin.”

He pulls back and runs a thumb over my cheek, swiping a tear away. 

His green eyes question mine, so calm and understanding compared to yesterday’s rage. His hands are gentle as they cradle my face, and I want them off off off.

“He’s a monster,” I wail, dredging up some more tears. Knowing there needs to be more of a concrete reason for my breakdown, I make some pretty seedy shit up. “He... killed his driver! Because he took a wrong turn!”

Gods, Feyre. Really?

I can practically see Rhysand rolling his eyes. He’d see through my lies in a second. 

Tamlin, however, bites the bait... more like he swallows the whole damn line.

He hugs me again, so tight my feet leave the floor, and I go limp against him, pressing all the soft parts of me against the hardness of his chest.

Don’t get me wrong, Tamlin’s attractive. Wide shoulders, surfer boy hair, tan skin, and green eyes that look like the deepest of emerald. 

But he also is a fucking asshole, and everything about him irritates me.

It’s crazy, I think as his hands slip lower on my back, that yesterday he called me a whore, and now he wants to sleep with me.

Prick.

“Tamlin,” I sigh against his neck.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

I almost throw up at the little pet name, but I nod and act like he’s the greatest thing on this planet, the gods’ personal gift to all things women.

But then he kisses me, and I get tired of this little charade. 

I keep my eyes open as his warm lips meet mine, wanting to see his face as the needle sinks into his skin.

His eyes fly open, and he drops me to my feet roughly, a hand pressed against his neck. It’s too late, of course.

Whatever black market shit this is, it works fast. 

His legs give out, and I shove his shoulder so he lands in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. 

“Feyre,” he growls, no longer happy to see me, “What the fuck are you doing?”

I roll my eyes, because even the dumbest of men should be able to figure that out my now. 

You’d think he’d pass out or be too paralyzed to talk, but just like Rhysand promised me, the drugs have paralyzed him from the neck down but left him perfectly conscious. 

I want him to see exactly what I’m doing.

Straightening my dress, I saunter over to his desk, eyes scanning the messy papers and folders for what I want.

Three rings, the exact copy of Rhysand’s, sit in a glass box, the shining titanium making them look like treasure. And they are.

But they’ve been here fucking long enough. 

I try to open the box, but it’s locked, so I sigh and grab a paperweight, then smash it to bits.

“You do this, Feyre, and I’ll come after you.”

“Ooooh, scary,” I deadpan, completely writing him off in a way I know drives him crazy.

Glass flies everywhere, but I just grab the rings and put them on whatever fingers they’ll fit on. 

Yet another piece of evidence men are idiots: I was wearing Rhysand’s ring when I walked in here.

A small detail, sure, but when I took that ring from him yesterday in his car, I made a vow to never take it off.

It’s a little big, resting on my thumb, but it’s perfect. 

It means I’m his, and he’s mine.

“He might have Chicago, but I’ll make you’re life miserable!”

“You did that for two years,” I remind him with a smile.

Then I set the radio exactly like I’d been told to, turn back to Tamlin, punch him square in the jaw, and smile when I hear a crunch.

That wasn’t exactly part of the plan, but I was tired of his threats. 

He howls in pain, and I know it makes me meaner than an adder, but I blow him a kiss and laugh as I walk out of his office. 

A sleek black sedan, driven by the very much alive Rolando (I’ve officially stopped thinking of him as Beefcakes), waits for me at the curb. I swing the door open and climb in, turning to Rhysand with a grin.

I hold up my hands victory. 

Rhysand smiles and laughs, relief and love and awe written across his beautiful features. 

He’s so fucking handsome, I can’t hold out anymore.

Muttering an apology to Rolando for what he’s about to witness, I sling myself across the leather seat and pretty much attack Rhysand. 

It might be the fact that I just drugged someone with illegal substances--my very first crime!--or maybe just how he looks when he’s happy. I don’t really care.

My hands are on his jaw, running down his chest, tangling in his hair. 

He lets out a surprised laugh as I paw at him, and I use the opportunity to sweep my tongue into his mouth, holding back a moan at the taste of him.

The car stops, but I sure as hell don’t.

Until Rhysand takes me shoulders in his hands, and gently pulls away. “Adrenaline junkie,” he accuses with a smile, pressing one last kiss to my cheek. 

I nod, because it’s probably true.

He gives me an amused look. “Then I can’t wait for what happens in twenty minutes.”

I stick my tongue out at him, ever the mature adult, and he smiles. Then he takes my hands, examines the rings, and takes the two that fit the worst.

He slips them on, and even though it’s a casual gesture, I almost break out into tears.

Too manly to cry like a baby, Rhysand just opens the door and walks out, taking my hand and pulling me with him.

Even though he looks calm and cool as a cucumber, I know he’s not exactly thrilled I’m here. We had our first real argument about me coming along for this part of the plan I’ve secretly begun to call Toppling Tamlin the Tool. 

I won, obviously.

He warned me time and time again about what I was going to witness today, but I don’t care. His revenge is his to take, but I want to be here for him. 

He’s been fighting for so long, completely alone. 

And no matter how it started, I fell for him. He isn’t alone anymore, and won’t be ever again, no matter how dangerous the situation is.

Hand in hand, we stroll into Leperchaun’s Luck, the last remaining Irish stronghold in Chicago.

When I asked why he’d let it remain all this time, Rhysand smiled that cruel smile and said, “Revenge is only worth it if it’s slow and painful.”

I’d shuddered, half in horror and half in excitement.

I know it’s horrible and beyond absurd, but what he does for a living doesn’t scare me. He explained the gory details last night, and I listened. And even though I was scared, it wasn’t of him.

It was for him.

He has enemies with rap sheets longer than my arm. 

The guy Rhysand blocks from buying Degas? Russian arms dealer!

But Chicago, he’d told me with a smile, is his. Someone would have to be suicidal to come after him here. So I guess I’ll just blow up his plane and never let him leave.

Sounds realistic.

I’d like to think it was my smile and charm that made him give in and let me tag along, but it was likely the fact that we aren’t in any super big dangerous. 

We walk through the empty bar and to the courtyard in the back, and it’s a little amusing how quickly the six men sitting around a poker table jump to their feet and start shouting questions. 

“What the fuck?” is the most popular. 

“Hello, gentlemen,” Rhysand greets smoothly, ever the gentleman. 

Someone behind us loads a gun, the sound making my eyes go wide. 

But it’s never fired.

Because all of a sudden, red dots are on every single chest besides mine and Rhysand’s. 

“Pull that trigger, McCallen, and all your friends die.”

They all look down and around at each other with huge, saucer-sized eyes. 

Not one to dally, Rhysand smiles and tells the group, “I just bought this establishment. Needless to say, you’re no longer welcome. In here, or Chicago. You have six hours to leave my city.”

‘Bought’ is a bit of a strong word. He hacked into Tamlin’s bank account and bankrupted him, forcing him to sell to the highest bidder. Guess who that was.

“Or what?” one asks, feeling brave.

Another dot makes its way to his chest.

Gods, how many snipers does Rhysand have?

“Or you’ll die, and your precious little daughter Lena will be an orphan.”

The man’s jaw sets, even as his face pales. 

Checking his watch with a casual gesture, Rhysand reminds, “Six hours and counting.”

Then he says, directly at the small box in the middle of the poker table, “That goes for you too, Tamlin.” 

Since he didn’t want to risk coming back to Chicago, much less his last property here, Tamlin had been keeping control of his men by listening to everything that happened in this place on a private radio frequency.

Which, somehow, Rhysand knew.

He’d told me the number, and I’d turned the radio in Tamlin’s office to it before leaving. The drugs haven’t left his system and won’t until later today, meaning he’s still lying limp in that chair, listening to every word.

“Leave before I lose my patience,” Rhysand growls, and the men take the warning and haul ass out of the building.

Turning to me, he smiles and asks, “Ready, Feyre darling?”

“Ready.”

We walk out of the restaurant again, pep definitely in our steps, then get back in the car. Rolando starts driving immediately, leaving the restaurant behind us.

“Do you want to-”

“Yes,” I answer immediately, grabbing the phone from him and hitting call.

"So violent,” he murmurs with a smirk, turning in his seat to watch as the explosives he’d placed there years ago during a mandatory “city inspection” finally came into use. 

The explanation I got on that one: “In case I got bored.”

Gods, he’s sexy.

The car rocks slightly as orange and blue and yellow flames race out of the building, leaving absolutely nothing behind. 

Even though the violent woman in me wants to keep watching, I look at Rhysand instead.

His eyes find mine, and he smiles softly. “It’s done. It’s over.”

I nod and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, linking our hands together. We both stare down at the rings. “It’s over.”

Tamlin will run back to wherever he’s been the past seven months, and since there’s absolutely nothing for him here, he won’t come back. 

Rhysand has complete control of the city again, his empire built brick by brick through hard work and rage. He’s gotten his revenge, taken everything from the man who left him with nothing. 

And he got me.

“Was that enough adrenaline for you, Feyre?” he asks, hitting a button to roll up the barrier between us and Rolando. 

Someone else, it seems, is an adrenaline junkie. 

Smiling, I slide down on the soft leather and lift an eyebrow. “Come find out.”

~Feyre, three months later~

Somehow, I feel nauseous, excited, and doomed all at once.

I don’t even know how that’s possible, but it’s true.

I’m so nervous, I might be sick. I’m so excited, I can hardly walk. I’m so unsure of myself, I might fail. 

Focusing on the one in the middle, I walk down the aisle between chairs, ignoring the people watching me and focusing on the destination.

I can feel his eyes on me, and just like the first day we met, I can hardly breathe. But I ignore the tingly feeling in my spine and focus on what I’m doing.

I walk up to the slightly lifted stage in the large auditorium and turn to my peers, smiling and feigning confidence. 

I’m presenting my senior project today. And even though I’m excited and nervous and doomed, I’m proud of it.

It turned out better than I expected, honestly. 

It took me forever to finish the painting aspect because I wasn’t quite satisfied until late last night. 

The paint’s interrupted and surrounded by photos I’ve collected this year.

Rhysand, covered in paint. Art from both Chicago’s museum and the private collection I visit almost every day. Random bits of architecture and the night sky and shots that just work. 

Up close, it’s a bit of a mess, but from a distance--particularly, the distance between me and Rhysand’s chair--it looks like three dancers, twirling and leaping under the night sky. 

My professor hugged me when she saw it. So did Rhysand.

No offense to Prof. Jones, but I enjoyed his a little more.

“This is called Starlight Dancers,” I tell the room, my voice surprisingly level. I’m glad for the bright lights, because I can’t see anyone’s actual face as I continue. “It’s a rendition of Degas’s work, Dancers in Blue, which is my favorite piece. I’ve also incorporated photographs of art and people who mean a lot to me. Like a lot of pieces from the Renaissance, it’s meant to be viewed at a distance.”

I keep talking, going through the difference elements and explaining how, essentially, it’s a celebration of painting and love.

More than once, my eyes are drawn to the photographs of Rhysand, and I find myself searching for him in the crowd. 

I also get a little distracted by the mass of sparkles adorning my ring finger.

We’ve been engaged for three days, eight hours, and a handful of minutes.

He proposed in the museum, right where we met. When I almost feinted at the site of the biggest diamond I’d ever seen and told him it was too much, he’d just laughed and said, “It was this or the painting behind you.”

Ridiculous, wonderful man. 

I know it’s fast to get married after less than five months together, but the scary truth is that I can’t imagine life without him.

I scan the crowd again, and it might be my imagination, but I think I see a pair of violet eyes watching me. 

And I could swear one winks at me.

~Rhysand~

I’m not supposed to be in here.

I’m not a professor, and I’m sure as shit not a student. 

But I snuck in anyway, ignoring the millions of things I actually need to be doing, because I want to support her. 

I don’t even know what she’s talking about--impressionism and romantic elements and different types of photography--but she’s so passionate and beautiful, I can’t take my eyes off her.

She has me completely wrapped around her finger, and it should probably scare me that I don’t even care.

Years and years of planning, and everything that’s happened in the past month still surprised me.

Not the part about running every last Irish bastard out of my city; that’d been set in stone. 

The part about me getting engaged.

Ironically, that’s the only part that makes me smile.

Sure, I sent Tamlin running for the hills with his ragged band of leprechauns, set his stronghold on fire, and finally have peace over what happened all those years ago. 

But even that pales in comparison to waking up next to the woman up on the stage.

She’s a bed hog and always puts her freezing feet on me as soon as I crawl next to her, but the way she smiles at me when she wakes up makes up for it.

Everything about her makes up for it, actually. 

She’s still absolutely crazy and wonderful and I now have paint splatters on more than a few of my suits, but being loved by her is like... standing in the sun after being locked in a cave. Or some other shitty metaphor.

The fucking point is, even though getting down on one knee in a museum and asking her to share her life with me is the last thing I expected to happen, I’m glad it did.

Because being with her gives me something I’d thought I’d lost ten years ago: happiness.

________________________________________

Thank you for reading! 

TAGS: @elorcan-trash​ @januarystears​ @emikadreams​ @alpha-omegas​ @joyceortiz13​ @sapphic-beauty​ @meowsekai​ @ahappyhistorianreader​ @courtofjurdan​ @acalypsot​ @acourtofsjmtrash​ @highladyofthesith @bookwormq702 @swankii-art-teacher​ @lunaroseperdomo​ @leaf-love-life​ @mari-highladyof-feels​ @raghad-50725​ @perseusannabeth​ @cursebreaker29​ @a-bit-of-a-cactus​ @elriel4life​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​ @shinya-hiiragi​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @highqueenofelfhame​ @nahthanks​ @ghostlyrose2​ @lovemollywho​ @tillyrubes10 @claralady​ @tswaney17​ @rowanisahunk​ @superspiritfestival​ @thegoddessofyou​ @awesomelena555​  @booksofthemoon​ @greerlunna​ @jlinez​ @studyliketate​ @over300books​ @justgiu12​ @maastrash​ @aesthetics-11​ @bamchickawowow​ @b00kworm​ @sleeping-and-books​ @musicmaam​ @hizqueen4life​ @maybekindasortaace​

[jangmi-latte]

❝ 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐤 𝐌𝐞 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐲... ❞

open the gates...

— welcome to this grand masquerade, darling. in the night where masks shine and strangers waltz around. we shall hand you over to your gentleman that the stars has chosen for you..

❦ malleus draconia.

"what a coincidence that even the night has bended fate and made you and I meet again, little beastie..."

Crowded.

To say I was used to this would be a lie. It felt like there were more people here compared to the population in the Valley of Thorns. It did not really matter. No matter the population, I will still be around with the same people I grew up with.

One would wonder, why would the headmaster prepare such an event in an all-boys-school? Even I wondered why such a gala would take place in our school. The ball had suits and extravagant gowns as far as my eyes could see. Some were familiar faces, some are merely strangers. As figured,

there were women in this ball.

As the heir to the throne, humans would expect those of the opposite sex to come flaunting towards me. They must've been mistaken. After all, a dark fae as I am would be feared by both genders no matter the species.

It's just another normal night for me, I suppose.

"Malleus," Lilia called as he walked towards me. He still stood out despite the mask he wore. Who am I kidding? His hair alone could break out his persona. "What are you doing here all alone?" He took a sip of his champagne— which, I suppose, Dire Crowley allowed in such premises —before leaning on the pillar beside me.

Ah yes, I was away from the others. I wouldn't want to scare nor ruin their night with my mere presence. This night should be enjoyed by everyone. I, of course, am enjoying myself just being around Lilia. Silver and Sebek had eventually found someone to spend the night with. Much convincing in my part which I was surprised did work. "You didn't call her like I told you to?" Lilia asked. I sighed.

"I wouldn't want to disturb her for just one night. It'll be over before we know it."

"Malleus. 't's obvious you miss her."

Growing up under Lilia's care, I have never escaped those observant eyes of his. He always knew what we felt. Especially when it comes to me. I must admit I barely even show my emotions. "I'm not lying either."

"Ugh," Lilia groaned. I arched an eyebrow at him. Was he annoyed perhaps?

"Come with me Malleus."

That was odd.

He began walking out of the venue. I was confused. Obeying, I followed behind him. The difference of the quiet outdoors and the ball was pleasantly satisfying. The orchestra faded away the farther we walked. I still wore my mask, of course. We wouldn't want to ruin a human tradition or celebration as Lilia explained.

"Why do i has't to do ev'rything myself?" he whined with a smirk on his face. Dear old man, what are you up to?

The moon was full and bright this evening. Shining its gleaming light down on the earth. What a pleasant night to go out for a walk. As I hope it was like this every night where it is so quiet and not the usual noises I would often hear from a distance in certain areas I would arrive on. The botanical garden we have stepped foot on has shared its own peacefulness with the night.

The grass would crunch on every step we take. Lilia was softly humming a tune I'm not so familiar with. It didn't bother the quietness I so comfortably became infatuated with. Only then have I noticed the different species of flora that decorate as far as the garth could take possession of. Wherever Lilia was taking me, I do hope it still took place within this ethereal land. Despite my willingness to spend such evening in silence. There was always this void that bothered me.

"Father."

Silver. I thought he was preoccupied back in the venue. He stepped out from the cobblestone wall that I only took notice of now. Are there more secrets within this garden's walls? "Ah, Silver. You may take your leave now. Thank you for keeping her company."

Her.

I knew it. Old man, what else would I expect from you? There's always something up your sleeve that seems to always put me off guard. Anything but, her. My darling, don't keep me waiting if you're just a few feet away hidden from my view.

I was too stunned to even move. The fact that she was here kept me in a daze. The only moment I knew I was back in my consciousness was when Lilia held my arm. Silver was gone as well. "Dear Malleus, I'll leave you to her. The night is still young. Cherish it while it lasts," he said before walking away. It was just her and I left in this garden.

My little beastie, please show yourself.

I could not wait any longer by knowing I can hold you in my arms again.

I walked slowly, towards the other side of the cobblestone wall. The breath I took was something I couldn't even expect to come from me. It's surprising, I know. A powerful, feared, dark fae as I would be so... helpless? No, desperate would be a better term. Would you blame me? Besides Lilia, Silver, and Sebek...

She's the only one I had in my lonesome life that I would want to live my life with as long as her breath could last.

And there she was.

y/n, my little beastie.

"Malleus!" Her voice bounced in my ears. How beautiful she looked under the moon's bright rays. The gown she wore complimented her skin perfectly, those glassy orbs stood out under that mask she wore. Absolutely stunning.

I sound stupid. I'm starting to sound like Silver when he's describing something while he's in awe.

Who cares?

I'm with her again.

"Darling," I called, my sides of my lips moving up in a smile I never knew I was capable of. She ran towards me. Her skirt swaying along with her movement before she crashed into my arms. Hugging me in a warm embrace that I so genuinely wanted. "You took so long," she whined.

"My apologies. I wouldn't even know you would be here," I spoke, holding her with my arm around her waist. Her smile was blinding. I have to thank Lilia later for giving me yet again another memorable moment. "You look so gloomy. Are you alright?" she asked.

I brought her hands up to my lips, tenderly kissing her knuckles before rubbing them with my thumb, "I'm alright, little beastie. It's not the time to be gloomy yourself," I spoke before pulling her in and giving her forehead and small kiss as well.

"I missed you." Her little pout did indeed make a chuckle leave my lips. She's terribly adorable.

"I missed you too, my darling."

This garden will be a memorable haven for me. It would take a couple more months again before I could see her again once she goes back to the Valley of Thorns. At least I know, she's safe. "Dance with me?" I offered. She took a few steps away from me.

"Need not to ask more." She smiled. I bowed, she curtsied. Slowly, we began to walk closer. Our hands graced each other's jaw as we spun. I took her hand, moving it above her hand as I guided her into her own graceful spin. Her skirt swayed along with her. We pulled outwards, I pulled her in and spun her around once more. I could still hear the orchestra from a distance. Such common symphony the musicians are playing. The music of the Valley of Thorns was better than mortal serenades.

I began to position ourselves. Placing my hand back on her jaw while hers was on my shoulder, guiding her with each step I took. My eyes looking into hers in admiration. It's just a simple waltz that I've been taught by Lilia years ago. Never would I have expected to use it. That old man knew his ways after all, "You look so beautiful." My lips moved on their own, taking a step forward, to the side, and back. She followed suit as she held her skirt.

Her hands landed on my chest, pushing me away as they trailed down my arms and into my hands. I pulled her in, took a step back before extending my arms and pulling her back as she spun herself back into my arms. Her back against my chest, both our arms around her waist. Her other hand graced against my jaw as she gently moved my head to face her. "You look charming as you've always been, Your Highness," she giggled.

I leaned my lips towards her temple, "You never change," I chuckled. She spun herself away from me again, then reeled herself back. Her arm hooked around my neck as she gracefully extend her other behind her as I dipped her back, "I'm surprised you still remember this dance."

"Oh please, I would always dance this in my room—" I pulled her back up, a hand now on my shoulder as I gripped her other hand. "—whenever I hear the same music Lilia made us both dance to..." she trailed off.

How glad am I we both could still hear the music. She moved like a swan on water. So elegant, the way she carries herself stood out in a way she would always move than in a sophisticated way. She was herself.

I firmly held her waist, my lips pecking her lips. Her cheeks were a light pink, how much more could I make his little beastie flustered? I began moving my feet, her own moving along with mine as we both waltz around the garden.

"I would love to dance you back in the ballroom, darling—"

"Don't fret. I prefer to see this night for both you and me only," she hummed. "After all, this is a night I would love to remember while I read your letters."

I smiled. As cliché as it sounds, no other woman could make me feel this way.

"It's been a couple minutes since everyone has removed their masks, you know?"

We halted. Both our heads looking over the source of the voice to see non other than Lilia with a grin on his face, "I see the both of you are having fun," he said, his mask dangling on his finger.

"Lilia," both she and I chortled.

I looked back y/n, my finger going under her chin then guided her to look back at me. I gently lifted her mask up away from her before removing mine, "Much better," I noted.

The mask was nothing compared to her natural beauty. It was only in the way for me to admire her more. "How about we all go back to the venue and introduce her to Sebek and the others? I'm sure that will change the students' perspective of Malleus," Lilia grinned.

"I would like to meet the others too!" y/n answered so delightfully. I could not say no to that shine in her eyes. I'm afraid I have to let the others see the beauty of my darling. At least they would know she belongs to me.

"Come now. There's still more to go around," Lilia persuaded.

Ah, Lilia is correct after all. The night is still young. As much as I would prefer to have y/n's attention all to myself for tonight, it's better for her to be known by the others. Socialising may not be my thing, but I'm sure little beastie would love to meet new people.

As we walked back to the venue, my hand never left hers. I would love to continue dancing under the spotlight. For everyone to see the dashing beauty and grace my beloved holds. Her smile was contagious, her laughter in between speeches never failed to make my own laugh leave my own lips.

Just as I wished, the dance continued. With other students waltzing to the orchestra, my eyes stayed fixated on hers. She still had that same gleam in her eyes from the moment we first met.

Bringing me back to when we first danced on that same flower field. The same field we both met on an odd fated day. There will never be a night where I would not think of when the day would come where we'll be the only ones on the dance floor back in our homeland. Where she wore all white, with the same smile on her face, and the same flowers would adorn her body.

As always, she never fails to Whisk Me Away.