#what kind of courting ritual do they have???

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

What You've Done, You Cannot Undo (Medieval AU)

Epilogue

As summer fades, the ghouls settle in further. New friends and relationships blossom, and a new band performs their first ritual in the local village.

Rating: M Content: possessive behavior Words: 4812

Links to full fic: Tumblr | AO3

Not bad for a fic that was meant to be 5 chapters and about 15k words… this was supposed to be a quick little fic that I wrote before moving on to write the longer soulmates AU I’ve been planning since around March! 

As I think I've mentioned, this isn't the end! This was always supposed to be a Raindrop fic, and so Swissalps's story will be continued in a sequel. I'll be dropping the first chapter shortly, and I have a special invitation for it if anyone wants that in their ask box! message me or reply if you'd be interested?

I can't let myself get too sappy here or it'll end up longer than the chapter itself. But thank you to everyone who's been so lovely about this fic in replies or reblogs (especially looking at @everybodyshusband @cosmicseafoam @jazz-bazz @0-miles-away @papaslittlesunshine @ligovskaya @midnight-moth @karmicbias @kentuckyfriedsatan and anyone who's AO3 username I haven't correlated to a tumblr blog yet!), I wouldn't have stuck with this so long without you guys 🖤🖤

Read below, or on AO3!

The weeks passed, the summer fading further every day. With the final harvests nearly all brought in and the trees painting themselves in a hundred shades of amber and gold, autumn was finally upon the Abbey. No amount of dulling of the colours of nature could dull the passion of Rain and Dew’s relationship however, even as they found themselves slipping into a routine. For the Abbey’s fire ghouls, it was all hands on deck to help keep the grain dry, yet amidst his busy schedule Dew still found ample time to luxuriate in him and his pack’s safe and comfortable new home. Most importantly though, he thought, he had time to spend with his m– Rain.  

Dew had to stop himself for the thousandth time from thinking of Rain as his mate. To him, the rituals were practically complete. Having passed on his amulet, he had opened his heart and shared his soul. For Rain though, he knew they were only at the end of the first step of the many that comprised a water ghoul's courting ritual. They had many months left before Rain would have completed his side of the tradition; the next step being gifts that were less about being pretty, and more practical gifts for their future together. Dew had no way of knowing that Rain was already hard at work on that front; taking advice from his new pod of water ghouls on the best kinds of kelp to harvest from the lake here, and the weaving patterns that would create the softest possible blankets from it. Dew was happy to wait for Rain however; even if it took millennia, he would wait for him. 

As the weeks passed for Dew and Rain and their relationship grew both deeper and stronger, Swiss and Mountain continued to dance around each other, both backing out of making the final move at the last second. Their friendship had never been stronger, and with that came the higher pressure of what was a stake if their feelings were not reciprocated. 

Aether could see straight through their – at times – comedically oblivious behaviour. He had known Mountain for so many years now, and Swiss a great number too, that he could decipher the thoughts running through their heads just like reading a book. Seeing his pack couple off like they were doing could have made him feel lonely and jealous, he supposed. Considering his thoughts however, he couldn't find a scrap of negativity towards any of them. Really, he was just happy to see his pack happy.  

He had a fulfilling life; a pack, new friends around the Abbey. Aether had always said that he was happy alone, with no desire to settle with a mate. Admittedly, Mountain had said something similar when they first met, but Swiss seemed to have been an exception there. Over the recent weeks since Cumulus had properly introduced them, Aether had especially been enjoying getting to know Cowbell. The quiet ghoul's steady, timeless attitude felt grounding amongst the recent chaos of his life, and Aether could tell they seemed as delighted to have made a new friend as he was. 

Aether’s role in the infirmary was also going better than he could have expected. Astra had quickly seen how unnecessary any training she could offer him would be, and had set him up mentoring some of the younger quintessence ghouls. To his mild amusement, he had gained a small gaggle of quintessence ghouls who followed him around the infirmary like little ducklings, hanging on his every word and keen to lap up every scrap of knowledge he imparted. Aether found he enjoyed that side of his new role more than he had expected, and looked forward to teaching the younger ghouls each shift. 

With the Harvest Festival quickly approaching, one of the main tasks of the infirmary ghouls had been to prepare a supply of tinctures and remedies for the ghouls and siblings alike who would inevitably indulge a little too heavily in the Abbey’s famous blackberry wine. Due to his extensive knowledge of medicinal plants and herbs, Astra had delegated the task of organising this to Aether, who had grasped the extra responsibilities firmly. 

Before the festival however, came the one thing that was more exciting to the pack; Swiss, and Copia’s first musical engagement in the local tavern. Sunshine and Mountain were also heavily occupied now in rehearsals for it, the three ghouls – and one human – doing an excellent job of hiding their nerves from the rest of the pack. 

The pack was something else that had grown stronger at the Abbey, thought Aether. It hadn’t taken long for the five ghouls to begin to see the ghoulettes they lived their lives in such proximity to as more than just casual friends. Dew had clearly seen them as family long before the others had, but within the span of time they had been here the other ghouls also came to see them as an interwoven part of their lives. 

The ghoulettes, Cirrus and Cumulus in particular, had been referring to the new ghouls as pack, long before they were aware of it. The Den had become so much more crowded and noisier since they arrived, but none of the ghoulettes would change it for the world. The Abbey could feel large and lonely at times, and the constant presence of at least one member of the newly extended pack made everything feel cosier.  

Indeed, the concert – Aether still found calling it a “Ritual” to be laughable, although he would be happy to be proved wrong – was to be their first true pack adventure. The nine ghouls, plus Cowbell, Copia and several Siblings of Sin, were all planning to make the journey down the hill to support their leader’s latest passion project. Cowbell had offered to drive them in the large horse and cart usually used for their monthly grocery runs to the village, and as such the event was developing quite a party-like atmosphere. 

Even amongst the ghouls not attending, most either too busy or incapable of holding an adequate glamour, the day held excitement and novelty. There was a general buzz in the air throughout the Abbey, and it was riding this high that inspired most of the ghouls to finalise their remaining chores before the harvest festival the following day. 

One ghoul in particular who seemed to be buoyed along by the jubilant environment was a young, dark-haired fire ghoul. He was comparatively new to the Abbey, arriving some years after Dew left. Swiss was hurrying back to the Den, bringing armfuls of freshly-washed clothes from the laundry when the fire ghoul strode up to him with a self-assured, almost cocky, grin. 

“Good luck for tonight,” he purred in a low voice like treacle, reaching out a muscular arm to lay a hand on Swiss’ own bicep, “I’ll be at the festival tomorrow, if you want to get a celebratory drink together?” 

Swiss stood confused: he couldn’t remember ever speaking to this ghoul before, and certainly not in a way that would cause him to be so familiar with him. He hoisted the pile of clothes further into his arms, trying to think of a polite was to ask who he was exactly. 

“I, um…” Swiss trailed off, distracted by a low noise ringing in his ears. He shook his head slightly, trying to dislodge it but to no avail: if anything, it seemed to be getting louder. A dark and earthy scent suddenly assaulted his senses, and he wondered if he was falling ill, or if he had been cursed or something. It seemed the fire ghoul could feel it too though, as Swiss saw the colour drain from his face, rendering his tanned, olive skin an ashy grey. His terrified eyes were fixed on a point above and behind Swiss, and he stood frozen like a deer caught in a ranger's torchlight. Swiss cautiously turned around, half expecting to see some kind of nether-worldly monster oozing out of the wall. 

All he saw was Mountain however, stood tall and stony-faced with a dark aura emanating from him. The added height of his antler-like horns meant he cut an imposing figure. His lip curled into a snarl as he growled again, and a new wave of that woodsy, almost possessive scent washed over Swiss. As much as it seemed to be scaring the fire ghoul, Swiss thought it smelled divine. He smiled at Mountain with a questioning head-tilt, wondering where this strange behaviour was coming from so suddenly. The Earth ghoul’s eyes were fixed on the fire ghoul however, who managed to unfreeze for long enough to stutter out a disjointed sentence. 

“I’m sorry!” He looked like he was staring straight into the face of death himself. “I didn’t know, I’m sorry!” 

With a jerk of his head, Mountain dismissed him, sending the terrified fire ghoul scuttling down the hallway as fast as he could run, his tail between his legs. Once he was out of sight, Mountain seemed to calm down. His expression softened, and the air around him seemed lighter again.  

“What was all that about?” Swiss asked, confused by the earth ghoul’s sudden black mood, and the even more sudden departure of the unknown fire ghoul.  

Mountain muttered something Swiss didn’t catch and started relieving him of the large bundle of black clothes in his arms. Swiss trailed back to the Den beside him, still utterly confused by the interaction that had just taken place. 

“Was I meant to know who that was?” He mused aloud. “He acted so familiar, yet I can’t remember him from anywhere!” 

Mountain almost dropped the clothes, as he doubled over and snorted with laughter, previous aggressive attitude long behind him now that he had the multi ghoul to himself again. Was Swiss seriously that clueless about the fire ghoul’s unsubtle actions? Ever since he’d known him, Swiss had been taking advantage of the humans’ proclivity for flirting with him, often reciprocating if he thought it would secure him more work, or tips and favours. He couldn’t think what would have changed now to make him so oblivious, unless it was simply that it was another ghoul, rather than a human? 

“He was clearly flirting with you, Snapdragon!” Mountain guffawed in disbelief. “Could you really not tell?” 

Swiss’s quizzical expression suggested that no, he had not been aware of that. Adding to his confusion was Mountain’s reaction: he seemed to be finding the fire ghoul’s actions funny now, but what had the growling and – he realised what it was now – scenting been about? The bounce in the taller ghoul’s gait could only be described as victorious, and he chose to file all the hope about why that could be away until after their performance tonight. That wasn’t a distraction he would allow himself today, not when Copia was relying on him. 

Swiss had a suspicion however – one he kept to himself – about why he hadn’t grasped what the fire ghoul was really suggesting, and it had everything to do with the earth ghoul trotting slightly ahead of him. He was self-aware enough to know his feelings for Mountain bordered on infatuation, and he figured that now he had become used to the intensity of those feelings that he had forgotten what anything smaller felt like. The thrill of attraction, or of a newly developing crush felt so insignificant now that they were dwarfed by the magnitude of his feelings for the earth ghoul. He only had eyes for Mountain, and the thought of anyone else thinking they stood a chance in the battle for his heart was laughable to him. Hastening his steps to catch up with Mountain, Swiss fell into step with him to revel in being by his side once again. 

Reaching the Den just before they did was an excitable Dewdrop. He burst through the main door, and then into the room he shared with Rain, brandishing a dull metal object. 

“Look!” He exclaimed to a slightly startled Rain lounging in their nest. “A horseshoe!”  

Rain could see that, although what he couldn’t see was why Dew was quite so excited about such a mundane object. He smiled at him with a questioning tilt of his head and waited for Dew to elaborate. 

“The humans do something with them at weddings,” Dew explained as he joined Rain on the bed, still clutching the curved iron shape, “something about them catching luck? I thought we could hang it on our door!” 

He held it out for Rain to examine, demonstrating how it could look like a vessel for capturing luck when held in a U-shape. Rain took it from him, and it really was just a regular horseshoe: slightly rusted and worn down from use. More interesting than the horseshoe though, Rain realised that this was the first time Dew had ever brought back something to keep for himself. He let Dew chatter on about needing to find a hammer and some nails, if they should think about painting their door before or after mounting the horseshoe, and what colour Rain would like if so, would he like teal? Rain nodded along, only half his mind on the conversation. The other half was preoccupied celebrating this relatively large step for Dewdrop; this was yet more proof that he was finally starting to settle properly and relax, putting down roots for himself and Rain, finally feeling a sense of permanence. 

“I got it when I went to see Cowbell just now,” Dew elaborated, “to check if they’re all ready to drive the cart down to the village tonight. They were just reshoeing the mare we brought with us from the village, so that means this shoe played a part in getting us out of there! It really is lucky!” 

Rain melted further. It was becoming increasingly apparent that deep down Dew had the potential to be an incredibly sentimental ghoul, and he couldn't wait to see how that continued. 

“It seems to be working so far then,” Rain murmured, holding it up, “I've had nothing but luck since you came back for me.” 

With that, he leaned in to steal a kiss; both the horseshoe and all talk of home décor soon being forgotten. 

The day seemed both to drag and pass all too quickly at the same time. Before they knew it, Swiss, Mountain and Sunshine were all dressed, and carefully buffing the metal masks that were a part of their outfits one final time. Copia had decided they added a nice touch to their costumes; the shining horns hinting at their ghoulish nature without actually revealing it. The whole Den was alive with excitement and nerves, the fervour growing as the light outside began to fade. 

Walking out to the front courtyard to meet Cowbell with the cart, Swiss proudly led the way with his guitar strapped to his back. This felt familiar, and more importantly it felt right; doubly so with Mountain by his side. Cowbell was leaned against the wooden trailer, as human-looking as anyone could remember ever seeing them before. They were smiling softly, although slightly apprehensively, as the pack approached. Behind the pack followed the Siblings of Sin, who had initially been keen for an evening out but now seemed to be regretting their decision. Swiss could smell the waves of alarm pouring off them as they got closer, none of them used to interacting with the ancient ghoul who lived in the stables. 

“Good evening, dear ghoul!”  

Copia greeted Cowbell as he bustled forward and hoisted himself up next to them at the front of the cart. The rest of them would be travelling in the back, even though none of them were particularly keen to be sharing the space. They had no choice however, and the Siblings dutifully lined up behind the crush of ghouls that were piling in and jostling for space on the narrow wooden benches. Rain and Dew happily squeezed themselves into a corner, and Swiss settled himself into another; Mountain willingly joining him and shuffling closer until their thighs were pressed tight against each other. There was eventually space made for everyone and with a jolt, the cart set off. The sudden motion and continued bumping along the cobbles of the courtyard threw Mountain even closer into Swiss. Even once they were onto the smoother path into the village, he remained plastered along Swiss’ side as the countryside flew by.  

It really was a beautiful evening, Swiss though as he glanced out at the trees and fields around them. The orange sunset cast its glow over everything, making the whole world look like it was on fire. Most vibrant of all however was Mountain; his auburn hair glowing in the light like it was itself aflame. With his large horns glamoured away, the russet glow was all that served to make him appear as otherworldly as he did. Swiss thought that the whole world around them could truly be on fire, and he would be happy to sit and burn if only to stare at Mountain for a second longer.  

They continued rattling down the hill towards the village, and Swiss felt a pang of longing when he spotted Dew with his head leaning on Rain’s chest; held against his front by the water ghoul's long arms. He wished he could be so casually affectionate with mountain, but he dared not. He wouldn’t allow himself to dream that until he had first concluded the hard part – making sure they really were both on the same page. He didn’t deserve such a reward without the prior work, he thought.  

All too soon they were slowing to a stop outside a wide stone building that was emitting a narrow stream of smoke from its chimney: the village tavern. The Siblings practically fell out of the cart, their instincts screaming at them to put some distance between themselves and the ghouls. 

“Go, my Children, enjoy yourselves!” Copia laughed as they threw themselves towards the tavern door. 

The ghouls were only slightly more restrained as they clambered down and spilled into the building. Cowbell made no move to follow the others inside, instead staying next to the pair of horses, stroking one's nose. Aether paused, looking back at them. 

“You aren't coming in?” he asked, worried that the ghoul didn’t realise that they were welcome in too. Cowbell shook their head. They didn’t like crowds, especially human ones, as the noise and bustle were too much for their deeply ancient mind to handle. Despite that, the biggest thing stopping them now however was their appearance: Cowbell gestured to their feet, where Aether saw that their hooves were very much still visible. 

“My glamour’s incomplete,” they shrugged, “’m out of practice. It’s been centuries since I last used it.” 

One day, Aether thought, he would ask Cowbell just how old they really were. He suspected it was millennia. 

“Go inside with the others,” Cowbell smiled a wonky smile, “I’ll be happier listening out here anyway. Besides, I have company.” They stroked the second horse. Reluctantly, Aether followed after the rest of the rabble he called pack, throwing a final look back at Cowbell. They were muttering something in the horse’s ear while continuing to pet them. It sounded to Aether like they were speaking Infernal, a language only spoken in the pit, or so he thought. The horse didn’t seem perturbed though, and she whinnied happily at the attention. 

Inside the tavern, the atmosphere was jovial already. The large room was dimly lit, wood-panelled walls and supporting columns all stained dark with years of fire and tobacco smoke. Scattered across the panelling were a patchwork of lighter sections from recent and less-recent repairs. The only lighting came from lanterns that lined the walls and hung directly from the vaulted ceiling, as well as a small number of candles dotted on tables that lent a cosy and friendly air to the place.  

Better lit however, was the makeshift stage against the wall. It was slightly raised, simply built from a few wooden planks resting on crates, but it did the job. On the other side was the bar, its countertop polished as smooth as glass from generations of patrons leaning on it. Along its length were a line of stools with faded fabric covers, and the remaining floor space was filled with a hodgepodge of tables and chairs, scattering in increasingly private settings ranging from the centre of the room to corners almost entirely shrouded in darkness. 

Leaping lightly onto the stage, Copia looked resplendent in his robes, with his face painted black and white in the mimicry of a skull. Swiss thought he cut an imposing figure, when he wasn’t turning around to look at his ghouls with nerve-tinged excitement at least. The man stretched his arms out wide, the candlelight flickering off his bedazzled chasuble and truly making him look like the head of the dark church. 

Before long, the tables began to fill up with locals, intrigued by the talk of visiting musicians from the mysterious Abbey up at the top of the hill. Rain, Dew and the other ghouls not performing settled themselves at the table nearest the stage, Dew looking particularly excited and practically bouncing in his seat beside Rain. Swiss didn’t know what had overtaken him recently, but he seemed so much lighter and carefree now. He assumed it was Rain. The bustling crowd completely filled the tavern as the four musicians took their places on stage. Swiss caught Mountain’s eye once he was settled on the box he used as percussion. He saw the twin green flashes of his eyes behind his mask wink at him, silently wishing him luck. Swiss beamed back at him, his teeth glinting in the firelight through the bottom of his mask. With a final tune of his guitar, and another smile at Sunny, Swiss nodded to Copia and the man addressed the crowd. 

The ritual passed in a blur, and before Swiss knew it, they were leaving the stage to rapturous applause and cheers. As he stepped down onto the solid floor, Swiss had a large beer thrust into his hands by a grinning stranger. The jubilant atmosphere continued as the night wore on, the ghouls and their Papa swept up with the crowd, never finding their tankards dry. Even the ghouls who had not been performing seemed to be having fun, spending the local money Copia had given them to allow them to fit in and enjoy the night. The man himself was circling through the crowd, inviting anyone and everyone to the Abbey’s harvest festival the following night. His plan to spread their message was going better than any one of them could have imagined, and he had gained the interest of several curious village members.  

The noise and ruckus were proving too much for Aether however, and after a while of watching Dew and Swiss race each other to down their pints, he grabbed a pair of tankards and slipped out the door. Another musician had taken the stage, an accordion player, and Aether found Cowbell tapping along to the beat on the frame and iron wheels of the cart with two sticks like it was a drum kit. Aether chuckled as he approached. 

“Copia ought to make the band all wear floor-length robes, then you could join them!” 

Cowbell looked slightly sheepish at being caught, but their forked tongue slipped out as they smiled anyway. They joined Aether where he perched on some crates and accepted one of the beers gratefully. Apart from the rhythmic sound of one foot and one hoof tapping on the ground, they sat in a comfortable silence; two friends enjoying each other’s quiet, unhurried company. 

Back inside, Swiss could feel every drop of alcohol going to his head, and he thought Mountain must be feeling it too. The night was blurring together into a busy cacophony of singing, cheering and laughing. The one thing he could feel coherently was the constant, grounding pressure of Mountain’s hands on him. The earth ghoul had slunk across the tavern to join him, then barely let him go all evening, always keeping a hold of his waist or hip, or letting their shoulders press against each other. If their tails weren’t safely hidden away, Swiss had the feeling that they too would be braided together.  

In his fuzzy mental state, he wasn’t entirely sure what could have brought such behaviour on. The almost possessive twinge to it, like Mountain was trying to ward the humans off, was making his him feel even more floaty than the alcohol. Running on a high from the successful performance, Swiss couldn’t find the mental energy to really care about why Mountain was suddenly glued to him, he only cared that he was. He saw Rain and Dew similarly pressed together, and his inebriated mind let him convince himself that they could be the same, if just for tonight. 

Whoever was on stage currently seemed to know the audience well and was gradually convincing more and more of the tavern’s patrons to dance to the jig he played. The humans pressing close, swirling and stamping to the beat, swept the ghouls up in their fervour. Swiss soon found himself pressed closer to Mountain, dancing partners even without indenting to be, the pair clutching each other's arms for balance as they ebbed and flowed with the tide of the crowd. 

As the dance ended, Swiss fell against Mountain’s chest. The earth ghoul held him close while they both caught their breath and laughed at the exhilaration. For a while, they held each other and swayed to a slow dance only they could hear. Hearts beating in sync, Swiss looked up at Mountain to see him already staring down at him. His peridot eyes were at the centre of his vision, the only thing Swiss could focus on. They seemed to grow and expand to fill his field of view, and Swiss only realised that this was because they were getting closer together when the twin points of light blurred out of focus.  

Swiss’s eyes fluttered shut, and with his vision gone all his other senses heightened in response. He could feel Mountain’s breath against his face and could smell the sour note of beer in it, although he didn’t find that as off-putting as he supposed he should as he stretched up on his tiptoes to bring them closer still. Swiss felt rather than heard Mountain’s final sigh against him, before the soft yet insistent press of Mountain’s lips to his shook him like an earthquake. With all their prior hesitancy washed away by the free-flowing liquor, Swiss pressed back instinctually, throwing his arms around Mountain’s shoulders and holding on like his life depended on it.  

Time meant nothing to the pair as they ignored the general ruckus of the crowd around them, and the chorus of whoops and cheers that Dew was leading. It was like all the background noise had faded away leaving only them stood in a world of their own. Before long, although it was really several hours at this point, Copia was desperately trying to shepherd his sleepy, tipsy ghouls and the Siblings into the cart to head back to the Abbey. They had a busy day tomorrow, he reminded them, as he had promised all the villagers that their little band would be performing at the harvest festival too.  

Slowly, they all stumbled out into the brisk night where Aether and Cowbell were waiting, three sheets to the wind themselves. Swiss and Mountain had managed to make it over the threshold of the tavern without separating, but getting into the cart proved more difficult. Breathing their own air for the first time in a while, they unsteadily clambered into the trailer, cramming themselves into a corner to continue where they left off, despite the jeers from the ghouls around them. 

“Even we're not that bad!” Swiss thought he heard Dew crow from somewhere behind him. 

Eventually, they had made the short trip back up the hill and were all bumbling back into the Abbey, still drunk off free beer and good energy. Kiss broken, Swiss continued to hold Mountain's hand as he pulled them into the Den and their room. He kicked his boots off, uncaring where they landed as they tumbled into bed, still giggly and touchy but both too tired to do any more than that.  

“Today was fun.” Swiss purred sleepily, as he wriggled in Mountain's arms. The earth ghoul was almost asleep already as he hummed in affirmation. Quickly, they fell into a deep, contented sleep. They could think about what the events of tonight meant for them in the morning. 

To be continued... 

[ragnarokhound]

Hi bb 🐺 can you choose a 500 word snippet from one of your published fics or wips and give us some director's commentary / insight into what you were thinking when you wrote it?

Hi bb! ^^ Sure, I'd love to!

I'd like to take the chance to talk about a scene from intricate rituals, my omegaverse Jaytim fic featuring beta!Tim being courted by alpha!Jason.

This scene takes place near the end of the rising action, at the tail end of the fifth time that Jason was totally courting Tim, and Tim still did not notice. Obviously, spoilers under the cut for anyone who hasn't read it yet, and I am a chatty mfer so this got kind of long, haha:

Tim dozes against Jason’s shoulder as he fiddles with the bedroom door handle, and does absolutely nothing to help when they reach the bed in the corner; so Jason dumps him on top of the sheets without fanfare. He bounces on the mattress with an offended chirp while Jason turns to look through his dresser for something. Tim whines obnoxiously at the sudden cold and wriggles around until he’s under the cool top sheet, his face firmly shoved into one of Jason’s pillows. He squints an eye open when Jason still hasn’t finished doing whatever he’s doing, only to see him standing over the bed. His face is unreadable in the darkness, but Tim can tell that he’s clearly dithering.  Why? He better not be getting weird about this. It’s only weird if Jason makes it weird. Tim is not nearly awake enough to puzzle through the why right now. He’ll think about it later. “Jason. Get in the bed,” he grumbles. Jason startles at the sound of Tim’s voice, but does as he’s told. The second Jason is under the covers, Tim invades the inch of space left between them with impunity. But then— Jason stiffens, so Tim stops about point five millimeters away from actually touching him. “Sorry," Tim says quietly. "You're really warm?" He says it like a question, trying to explain himself and ask permission at the same time and he can't really tell if he's accomplished either. Jason seems to get it though; he takes a breath and relaxes, then closes the remaining distance himself. He pulls Tim into the hot cave of his body, leaving an arm slung over Tim's waist and tucking him under his chin. Tim sighs, a purr thrumming softly in his chest as he tangles himself in Jason. He buries his face in Jason’s collarbone and quietly wonders to himself how he got here.  He's not sure he knows how he and Jason went from barely tolerating each other in the same room, the same city, (the same costume) to cuddling like packmates in the same nest. Yeah, a nest Tim basically invited himself into, and okay when he’s more awake he’ll feel a little guilty about that— but Jason carried Tim here himself. He didn't have to do that. He had every opportunity to say no. To think that he has Jason's trust now. That Jason would let him in this close, have him at his back, at his throat, have access to the vulnerable parts of him. It's terrifying. It's wonderful. It’s only marred by the smallest hint of apprehension still woven through the sleepy warmth of Jason's scent, that Tim only catches because his nose is practically shoved against Jason's scent gland. With a small, trilling keen, he tries his best to project calm-safe-acceptance. He’s had practice at it since becoming Robin, since joining the Wayne pack, but he's always been better at masking his scent than projecting it. A lifetime of hiding is hard to unlearn.

(you don't realize how long 500 words is until you see it right there on the page lol)

So intricate rituals is practically a study in denial. Tim spends half the fic justifying to himself (and to us) why Jason's overt alpha courtship behavior has a completely platonic explanation, and never ever even hints that he, himself, a beta, might in fact want a romance with Jason. Even though he really, really does.

So when I start writing out the prose for a scene, I try to keep those big guiding principles for the overarching plot in mind, as well as what I'm hoping to accomplish by the end of the scene. There's a few things I wanted from this scene in particular.

First: absolutely gag-worthy #married behavior. This is it! This is the final example of Jason's courtship and Tim's flimsy excuses (AKA the formula for each scene lol). So it has to be truly outrageous. It has to be over the top. The cream of the crop. And this time, it has to be Tim's idea in the first place. Get hoisted (from your own petard), idiot.

Second: it has to set us up for why Tim is in Jason's bed in the final scene. I knew all along how this fic was going to end - with Tim in Jason's bed, but comfortable there already; the tip-over from platonic to romantic that only happens because they're in such a stupidly domestic position that Tim is FORCED to realize that he might not be the only one pretending that This Is Fine.

Third: this is almost a step too far for Jason. But not quite.

In the first half of this snippet, we catch the end of the egregious courting behavior. Jason literally carries Tim into his nest/bed. He has to step away to get PJ's or something - Tim's not paying attention to that, so we don't really find out for sure - and when he comes back to see Tim whining and wriggling and getting comfy in his sheets, he has to take a second. For #strength.

Like usual, Tim clocks that something is bothering Jason; that Jason is Experiencing An Emotion. But also like usual, he doesn't clock what it is. Even though it's obvious to us, the romance pilled and dramatic-irony-aware audience. Even worse, he's so deep in his own denial (which hopefully we've picked up at least an inkling of by now, but it's not explicitly told to us until the next interlude scene) that he blames Jason for making it weird. He gets so close to making the intuitive leap about why EXACTLY Jason might be hesitant about sharing a bed, but he's too ~sleepy UwU (and ~afraid OwO). UGH, TIM.

(I try to balance action with introspection. Action -> reaction -> introspection -> action. Jason dumps Tim on the bed -> Tim whines and gets comfortable -> Tim wonders what's taking Jason so long -> Tim opens his mouth to ask "hey wtf is your problem". But preferably the action/reaction is described vividly enough and in the character's voice enough that we can, like, microdose on introspection along the way and keep the ball rolling lol)

When Jason is told to get in the bed, he startles - he was lost in his own thoughts. I like to think Jason was pondering his own version of what Tim sort of torments himself (and us) with every scene; wondering to himself how they got here, lamenting the fact that Tim isn't interested in him the way he would like him to be, and thankful that he gets to have him at all. Maybe contemplating what might happen if only he was a little braver. If this is it; if this will be Tim's line, and whether Jason's about to cross it. (Tim lies to himself about his feelings. Jason is brutally honest with himself about his.)

Tim moves in for the cuddle - Jason stiffens because he's still boggling at this whole situation, and a little afraid that Tim will realize exactly where they are and finally tell Jason 'no'. Again, Tim clocks his discomfort - "Sorry," - and again he misunderstands its source, mislabeling the motivations behind Jason's actions.

Jason makes himself open, and Tim takes happy advantage. Awww, they're cute, even if I do want to strangle them 'now kiss' style. Cue Tim's 'isn't it crazy how we're such good friends now' narrative monologue for the scene.

(🔥"HOT CAVE OF HIS BODY" MENTION🔥) (i can't resist this phrase OTL i'm weak for it)(it's about protection it's about warmth it's about the primal imagery of being nestled under the weight of something powerful that loves you)(<- werewolf pilled)

In this last half of the snippet, I wanted Tim to kind of show his ass here, re: being in denial lol.

"He's not sure he knows how" - Tim, we all just saw exactly how you and Jason ended up here. Yeah, we skipped some of that early stuff, but we just saw the start of your deeper friendship. It started with an omelette.

"When he's more awake he'll feel a little guilty" - Tim, didn't you just explain to Jason and to us why you shouldn't feel guilty? That it's perfectly normal to share a nest with packmates? Why do you feel guilty about this, Tim?

"He didn't have to do that." You're right. He didn't have to do that, and he did have every opportunity to say no. Why didn't he, Tim?

He tries to explain that it must be because Jason trusts him. That Jason's trust is a wonderful and terrifying thing to have. Huh. Interesting. Why does that terrify you, Tim?

Then Tim picks up on Jason's scent. Jason's own fears are the only thing that can cut through Tim's spiraling thoughts right now. Jason's made peace with having what he wants so close but still so far; and yet, he still can't help but ache.

Wanting to ease Jason's discomfort is what makes Tim bold. He tries to make Jason more comfortable by reassuring him that Tim feels safe here. That he feels accepted, and that he accepts Jason - which is true, regardless of his secret, presumedly unreciprocated feelings. Aww.

The last paragraph was a two for one - transitioning us into wrapping up the scene, but also, low key? The thesis of what we've seen so far. This explains at least one facet of Tim's behavior, prepping us for his breakdown and the emotional reveal in the next interlude.

Why is Tim in denial? Why won't he admit, even to himself, that he wants Jason? Sexually, romantically? That Jason could be courting him, that Jason could want him too? Because he's always been better at masking than projecting. A lifetime of hiding is hard to unlearn.

I really enjoyed writing intricate rituals, and my biggest hope was that everyone would be ready to strangle Tim by the end of this scene - but also hurt for him by the end of the next. When you get used to the idea that you are unwanted or undesirable, in any capacity, it's truly difficult to let yourself be convinced otherwise. But there's bravery and freedom to be found in finally allowing yourself to believe it. <3

[peranna]

catching up with TSCTIR then the lipstick scene and its build-up arrives

[luveline]

helloooo, how are you? i’ve been rewatching criminal minds and i finally got to the post-prison part, so i’m really missing shy!r and post prison spencer <33 if you’re felling up to writing something for them again, i would love to see it!! maybe when they kiss for the first time or something else (completely up to you, i would love anything that you write hahah) but if you’re not really feeling it at the moment, please don’t worry about it, it’s so understandable 🩷 have the best day!!

ty for your request I love first kisses <3

Spencer takes you for a walk and explains a couple of courting rituals. shy fem!reader, 1.5k

Profiling is still very hard, but seven months into your new job at the BAU, you’ve become proficient in Spencer Reid. You can tell when he’s eager to work, when he’s down about something, when he’s feeling good. He holds himself differently on his good days, he takes care to coil his hair and wears a clean pair of shoes. 

In the bullpen, he’s sitting at his desk beside yours, craned over a desk covered in loose papers, books, and files. You attempt to hide your approach, lest he startle. 

“Good morning,” he says. 

“Good morning.” Can’t hide anything. He’s been an agent for ninety percent of his adult life. “What are you doing?” 

“Just reading.” 

You sit at your desk, clearing a space for your bag among your own mess of files and books. Your monitor turns on with a nudge of the mouse. Your screen is filled swiftly by notifications and Outlook, then the FBI messaging system, and then the ‘filing cabinet’ Garcia built to help you understand the insanity that is the BAU online system. It submerges you every morning regardless. 

“What are you reading about?” you ask. Your emails can’t wait, but you don’t want to read them, so you won’t for another ten minutes. 

He stumbles over a breath. 

“Spencer?” 

“It’s courtship rituals.” 

You regret asking. Whenever you and Spencer talk about feelings, or love, or romance, you end up hot as a kettle on a stovetop, steam billowing from your ears. You choked on a mouthful of lukewarm tea a few days ago when he’d mentioned America's developing hook-up culture. 

He doesn’t tell you any more, which is unlike him. Spencer Reid loves to talk, or loves to share what he’s learned. You looked it up —it’s called info-dumping, and it’s usually because the person telling you is so deeply fascinated by the topic they’re investigating that they can’t contain it. It’s a common symptom of ADHD, or autism, or both. Spencer’s done it since the day you met, which is nice. You feel like he trusts you. 

And so you’re wondering now if you’ve done something to make him think he can’t do it today. Or maybe he’s not feeling well. 

You prop your face in his hand and watch him. 

He doesn’t look upset, only focused. 

You hate quiet. You love not talking, but gaps of silence have you overthinking things. Maybe he’s mad. Maybe you’ve finally pissed him off. 

It’s scary because he’s amazingly kind. Overwhelmingly nice. He’s lovely and good looking but it’s his heart that shocks you every time, how he’s looked after you, defended you.

“Spencer, are you okay?” you ask. 

He blinks to attention. “What?” 

“You’re not talking.” 

He grins. “I’m thinking.” 

His smile when he looks like he’s about to laugh is everything. 

“Don’t think too much,” you say as you play with a button on your coat. “Isn’t that what you always tell me?” 

“Don’t think too much because you think about things you don’t need to,” he amends. “You worry about everything.” 

“Well, so do you.” 

“Exactly. I’ll worry enough for you, too.” Spencer gives you a smile you don’t understand. “Will you come to the archive with me? I want to talk to you about something.” 

“Spencer…” He just acknowledged that you worry about everything. 

“Sorry,” he laughs. “Something with no pressure. I’ll explain it as we walk.” 

You shed your coat and walk together out of the BAU offices down a long hallway. You take the elevator down to the ground level, spring air in the hallways, early morning sunshine lapping at your shoes where it’s settled golden against the marble floor. Spencer professes that it’s nothing to worry about again, but he doesn’t elaborate, and your heart begins to pulse too quickly. 

You can’t look at him. 

“I’ve been reading about these courtship rituals and… looking at which ones are the best. There are thousands of them, but contemporary courting isn’t easy. It confuses me. With my last, my only girlfriend, we wrote each other letters. But I wanted this time to be different, because– because love is different?” He grimaces. 

“Love is different,” you agree. You’re not sure who he means, your chest panging in two different beats. Is he… talking about you? “It’s different every time.” 

“I was looking for the more subtle rituals. I kept thinking I’d find the right one, and that I’d know it when I saw it, but I can’t find anything suitable and I might need your help. Um, if you even want to help me.” 

“Of course I do.” 

Spencer slows just outside of the archive’s door. “Everything I read about feels like it would just embarrass you. I picture buying you flowers and I feel like you’d just– just explode.” He says it with affection and apology alike. “I wrote you a poem. Emily told me not to give it to you, though.” 

“You wrote me a poem?” 

“I made you a love spoon, too, but I can’t whittle, and it looks terrible. I even cut my hand, and if you rejected me you’d have to give the spoon back and I think that would make it worse.” 

You turn completely still. The last thing you expected that morning was for Spencer to confess. And he is confessing, a small smile on his face, patience, nervousness, close enough to feel the heat of him beside you. You short circuit in an attempt to compute the magnitude of it; Spencer wants to court you, and you can’t handle it. 

Your exhale shudders out of you. Goosebumps attack your arms. 

“Sorry,” he says quietly, “are you okay?” 

“Spencer, I don’t think you could ever find a way to tell me that wouldn’t make me feel like this.” 

“How do you feel?” 

“How am I supposed to feel?” 

Spencer’s smile fades a touch. “I don’t know. You can feel how you want to feel, it isn’t up to me. But I have feelings for you. I thought you knew.” 

It’s like knowing that the lottery numbers were chosen specifically to match your ticket. The thing he’s talking about doesn’t make sense. 

“Are you kidding around?” you ask. 

“What? No.” He holds your wrist gently. “Of course not.” 

You swallow a lump and try not to overreact, though you’re already doing that. This is a good thing, it is, but he’s him and you’re you and every time he touches you it’s like fireworks are bursting warm and tingly over your skin. You smile at his chest, cheeks dimpling from how wide it stretches. 

“You don’t have to court me, um. Not in any way like that. I’m just like every other girl, you know? I like flowers. I,” —your cheek lists down toward your shoulder bashfully— “probably would feel a little embarrassed, but I like flowers. I can get you flowers.” 

Spencer really laughs. “You want to get me flowers?” 

“Maybe?” 

He laughs again. His eyes lock onto you and his open hand closes on the opposite arm, putting you face to face. “It was my idea,” he says, playfully argumentative. 

“Okay.” 

“You want to hear the poem?” he asks, quietening again. 

You nod slowly. “N’I wanna see the spoon.” 

“Can I please kiss you?” He takes a breath, like he’s been running. “I know this isn’t the right place, but I didn’t expect to want it this badly.” 

“I don’t think there’s a wrong place…” 

“So I can?” he asks, lifting a hand to your cheek, to hold you with care. 

You nod into his approach, find yourself kissed and held tightly in a split-second of warmth and warm smells. His nose touches yours in a kiss of their own, his lips part lightly before pressing in again. Two kisses lend to a third, but then he pulls away to look at you. As quickly as it started, it’s over. 

“You're overheating already,” he says, thumb rubbing a sweet path under your cheek. 

You don’t know what to say. He ducks his head just that little bit to make sure you’re okay. Understanding flows between you both. His hand falls behind your back to pull you in for a hug. 

“I’ve never been the confident one in any of my relationships,” he admits. 

“I usually am.” 

Your deadpan lights him up. His hug turns strong armed, and he walks you back, giggling, arms a comforting vice around you. “You can be the shy one this time,” he says, seemingly unaware of how his using the word ‘relationship’ has thrown you for another loop. 

You’re hot as a furnace all morning. Spencer makes excuses for you, but Emily’s amazing at her job. 

“Jesus, Spence, you didn’t read her the poem? I told you it was too much.” 

[alloftheimaginesblog]

following in our footsteps {benedict bridgerton}

plot: as the wife of benedict bridgerton, you're always fixing his clothes and readjusting his collar and as your husband, he's always smoothing your dress down when you get out of the carriage... you don't realise but these traits get passed onto your children.

requested by anon

"Remember," you said as you took Benedict's hand as he helped you out of the carriage, "it's Colin's birthday, not yours, so please... let him enjoy his day without you and Anthony winding him up."

Benedict smiled at you widely, "Me? Annoy Colin? Well, I never." You rolled your eyes. Your husband, being the wonderfully kind man he was, then proceeded to circle you, smoothing your dress down if it had hitched up or gotten a little crumpled. Once finished, he stood in front of you and you straightened his lapel and his collar.

This had been a ritual for the two of you since your courting days. It started when Benedict had came to you with a bunch of flowers when he was calling on you one morning and you brushed off some petals from his shoulder and then in that same morning, he had wiped the tiniest speck of jam from your dress. Since then, the two of you had a routine in place of helping the other sort themselves out.

"Beautiful," Benedict smiled before placing a soft kiss on your knuckles where your wedding ring sat, "Right," he straightened and clapped, "come along children!"

One by one, your four children clamber out of the carriage. Charles comes first, holding his hand to help his sister Alexandra, then waits for William and lastly, the three help Violet as she was the youngest and also the clumsiest.

As the children are climbing out, you and Benedict find yourself in conversation about something else entirely and it is only when you hear the words, "Oh, honestly, Violet! You always seem to get yourself into such a muddle!" that you turn your attention to your children.

Your face stretches into a wide smile, "Ben, look."

William and Charles stood facing each other, straightening their collars, "Is that good?" They each nod before they look to Alexandra. Charles smooths down an unruly wisp of hair, tucking it behind her ear, while William smooths down the ruffles on her shoulder. Lastly, they all help their youngest sister, Violet. Charles wipes crumbs from her cheeks, Alexandra readjusts the hairband in her hair and William brushes her dress so it sits nicely.

They turn back to their parents who are... crying?

"Mama," Charles frowns, "are you well?"

You sniff, wiping your eyes with Benedict's handkerchief he handed you, "All is well, my love," you smiled, "It is just so nice to see you all looking out for each other."

"You fight like cat and dog but like your mother said, it is spectacular watching you look out for each other," Benedict smiles, clapping Charles on the shoulder.

The children don't understand the big deal, they glance at one another before Charles shrugs, "It is what we see you and Mama do each and every day. You make sure that you are both presentable and attractive, it is nice to look out for each other, is it not?"

You nod quickly, giving each of your children a kiss on the forehead, "Mama," William groans, "now we all have lipstick on our foreheads!" You laugh and hand Charles Benedict's handkerchief and one by one, they each wipe the lipstick off of each other's foreheads.

"Oh, we did good, did we not?" You ask quietly, melting into your husband's embrace.

"We certainly did." He presses a kiss to your forehead, "We really did."

[solar-wing]

⚣ Dick: The Popular Kid 😉

⚣😉 A/N → @swimmingpainterhandsfreak here you are! This is going to come in 3 parts, this one for Dick, and the next two for Jason and Conner separately. Every time I tried to do them all together, I kept getting stuck. They'll all be included in each other's in some fashion, but they'll still all have their own respective parts. Also, because I couldn't find it in my heart to do a fic where Y/N had to choose. Call me a wimp, IDC! Okay maybe just a little...either way, enjoy! WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI | Omegaverse | Courting Rituals | Highschool AU | Alpha Dick Grayson | Omega Male Reader | No one is a vigilante | Dick and Jason are not brothers | Dick is the stereotypical popular kid | Smut |

⚣😉 Summary → Dick, the most popular Alpha in school and one of the sweetest souls anyone will ever meet has his eyes on someone special. What's his plan?

⚣😉 Words → 7.0k

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💙

⚣ ENJOY 😉

Dick Grayson? Everyone knows who Dick Grayson is.

Everyone where he went, people swooned and fawned over him like some graceful dignitary or even divine being had just crossed their paths. His charisma was magnetic, drawing others into his orbit effortlessly.

With a smile that could disarm the most skeptical and a charm that seemed to flow from him like a natural force, he moved through the corridors as if he owned them, yet always with a friendly word or a helping hand for those around him. He wasn't just admired; he was adored, a living legend among ordinary teenagers.

And yet, you’d never know it from how Dick acted around others.

Dick Grayson remained remarkably humble and grounded. Unlike many in his position, he never let the almost worshiping attention warp his character. His kindness knew no bounds, and his humility was genuine.

Despite being the adoptive son of Gotham's beloved billionaire, Bruce Wayne, and having access to all the privileges that came with it, Dick never flaunted his status or wealth. Instead, he used his influence for good, often volunteering his time to help those less fortunate in Gotham City.

His actions spoke volumes, proving that true greatness lies not in the accolades one receives but in the way one treats others. In a world where fame and fortune often breed arrogance and entitlement, Dick Grayson stood out as a shining example of grace and compassion.

Bruce was the “Billionaire Playboy,” and Dick was subsequently deemed as “Gotham’s Prince Charming.”

And every prince needed someone to share their kingdom with; Dick Grayson was no exception.

Which is why Gotham’s most prestigious high school and its student population were positively abuzz with excitement at the rumors flying around that Dick was planning to court someone. While many had their own ideas (most being hopes that Dick would choose them), mostly everyone had one certain candidate in mind that had beseeched their heart of their school’s Prince Charming.

“Bitch, are you blind? Have you not seen how hot Y/N and Dick look together?” Sasha replied.

“OMG, yeeess! Like seriously, imagine how cute their kids would be. And Dick would probably be like the world’s best dad.” Manny screeched.

“Fuck all that. Y/N needs to give a real Alpha a chance.” Kevin proclaimed, puffing his chest out.

Everyone at the lunch table eyed the athlete while trying to hold back their chuckles, “Dude, no offense. But, you’ve got nothing on Dick. I wonder how Jason and Conner are gonna react.”

“Well, the four of them have been best friends since what, like the 1st grade? I’m sure they’ll be fine with it,” Ethan said bored, scrolling through his social media feed on his phone before coming across an interesting post, “Oh, would you look at that, Dick proposed to Y/N.”

“WHAT?!” Everyone collectively screamed at the table before Ethan’s phone was snatched out of his hand so they could all see.

“Rude,” The beta scoffed.

Dick had known Y/N practically since diapers after Bruce adopted him when his parents were caught in a fatal accident. The Omega’s parents, specifically his dad, had been classmates and friends with the billionaire.

From the early days of their childhood, they went from being adolescents who were thrown in the playpen together while their parents hung out and caught up, to being thick as thieves, joined at the hip, and now serving as constant headaches for the adults. They shared everything from toys and snacks to hopes and dreams, their laughter echoing through the halls of Wayne Manor as they embarked on countless adventures together.

Their parents often liked to joke that the two of them together were like two halves of one brain cell. Which, if you knew the two, it was nothing but the truth. Even worse when their other buddies Conner Kent and Jason Todd were involved, all four growing up with each other and causing massive chaos when together.

But, for Dick and Y/N, their bond had been special since day one.

From the earliest days of their childhood, Dick and Y/N had been inseparable. Under their parents' watchful eye, they had grown up side by side, learning and exploring the world around them with the curiosity and wonderment of youth.

As they navigated the trials and tribulations of adolescence, their friendship had only deepened, strengthened by the trials they faced together. Whether it was navigating the complexities of high school or grappling with the weight of their respective legacies, they had always found solace and support in each other's company.

In Dick, Y/N found not just a friend, but a pillar of strength, someone to lean on when he felt like he couldn’t stand so strong on his own. Dick's unwavering presence provided a sense of security and stability in a world filled with uncertainty. His caring sensibility and compassionate nature offered solace in times of need, a comforting reminder that no matter what challenges they faced, they would never have to weather them alone.

When they both reached the age of puberty where their second biological statuses would present themselves, their friendship remained steadfast and strong. As Y/N's presentation as an Omega became apparent, the dynamics of their friendship did shift subtly yet significantly added more depth to their relationship.

When there were sudden whispers and sideways glances, a subtle unease had settled in the newly presented Omega, shaking his confidence that had been strong up until then. For Y/N, the change was both bewildering and overwhelming, as he grappled with the newfound scrutiny and expectations that came with his new biological status.

But amidst the uncertainty and the whispers, there was one constant: Dick Grayson. From the moment Y/N's presentation became known, Dick was there, unwavering in his support and resolute in his loyalty. He stood by Y/N's side, a steadfast presence in the face of adversity, offering a shoulder to lean on and a voice of reason in moments of doubt.

When the bullies came, as they inevitably did, it was Dick who stood between them and Y/N, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. With his new Alpha status and ever-growing popularity standing because of it, the bullying attempts were short-lived since none of their classmates wanted to commit what they considered social suicide by getting on the son of Gotham’s most beloved billionaire’s bad side.

Which, Y/N definitely considered them smart for it. Because, while Dick was always kind and pleasant to everyone, he was never a pushover and would always defend those he cared for with striking resilience.

Emphasis on the ‘striking’ part. Bruce had Dick put in self-defense lessons from the moment he could walk. An unspoken necessity considering the lives they lived.

But perhaps more than his physical prowess, it was Dick's words that offered the greatest solace to Y/N. In moments of doubt and insecurity, when the weight of expectations threatened to overwhelm him, Dick was there, reminding him that there was more to him than any title, rule, or expectation someone placed on him because of his status.

He‘d always repeat how he was strong and capable and that he didn't need the validation of others to prove his worth. And that he’d never know just how much he’d mean to others, especially the Alpha himself.

In Y/N, Dick found not just a friend, but a soulmate—a partner whose presence brought a sense of completeness to his life. As they navigated the complexities of adolescence and the challenges of growing up, Y/N became more than just a confidant; he became a source of emotional support and unwavering understanding.

When Dick grappled with the weight of his past, mourning the loss of his parents and struggling to find his place in the world, it was Y/N who offered a shoulder to lean on and a sympathetic ear to listen. With quiet strength and boundless compassion, Y/N stood by Dick's side through every tear shed and every heartache endured, providing a sense of solace and comfort that no one else could.

But Y/N offered more than just emotional support; he offered clarity and perspective in moments of confusion and doubt. With an intuitive understanding of Dick's innermost thoughts and feelings, Y/N helped him navigate the murky waters of identity and self-discovery, guiding him toward a greater sense of who he truly was.

And while Dick may have been the Alpha in their friendship, it was Y/N who kept him on his toes, challenging him to be better, to do better, in every aspect of his life. Whether it was pushing him to excel academically, encouraging him to pursue his passions, or gently nudging him towards self-improvement, Y/N was always there, helping Dick fill in wherever he was slacking and encouraging him to reach new heights.

But amidst the laughter and the shared moments of joy, there lingered an undeniable tension—a spark of something deeper and more profound. It was a connection that transcended friendship, a bond that spoke of unspoken desires and unfulfilled yearnings. In Y/N, Dick found a kindred spirit, a partner in crime, and perhaps, if fate allowed, something more.

Their relationship was a dance of longing and restraint, a delicate balance of affection and restraint that left them both yearning for more. And as they stood on the precipice of adulthood, their futures intertwined in ways they could never have imagined, Dick couldn't help but wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, Y/N was more than just a friend—he was the missing piece of the puzzle, the one who completed him in ways he never thought possible.

While he may have been too young to really understand everything he was feeling, he knew he didn’t want the chance of him never getting to learn more about it ever become a reality.

So, Dick went to his dad, to ask him how he could properly court his friend. Of course, Bruce, being the observant one who always liked to play detective as his friends and colleagues would point out, was not surprised at his son's request.

Truthfully, he was waiting for the day when Dick and Y/N got together and even had a little wager going on with the Omega's parents. Speaking of which,  he'd won, making sure to have Alfred remind him to collect his winnings from the L/N's when all this was said and done.

Actually, he figured why not collect his winnings as soon as possible. Being a bit of a traditionalist, something he got from his own father, Bruce advised his son the best first thing for him to do was to get Y/N's parents' blessing before he committed to anything else.

So, while Y/N was busy hanging out with some friends for an after-school club, Dick and Bruce made their way over to the L/N residence, where the billionaire smugly watched his son ask the two males if he could court their son. Of course, they gave their blessings with joy, but they didn't miss the subtle smirk on their friend's face as Y/N's dad went to grab his wallet.

Bruce took Dick to the stores to find Y/N a special gift, something that would symbolize his commitment and devotion to his feelings towards the Omega, but would also be an accurate representation of them. The younger male was torn between the many options, unsure of what would be the best choice.

When his eyes landed on a shining, silver chain with a sapphire pendant cut into the shape of a bird, Dick knew this was the one. He made sure to wear it for about a week, using his favorite colognes frequently so it was covered in his scent.

Then, right before lunch, he'd presented the gift to the Omega in the hallway of their school with many of their classmates as witnesses.

"What's this?" Y/N asked, looking down at the velvet box Dick had handed him.

"Remember that history project we had for Mr. Kari's class, and you chose to do one on the ancient Kryptonian society and all its mythological lessons," Dick explained, smiling softly as the memories flooded back.

"I remember."

"Well, I happened to be out shopping the other day–"

"Uh huh, I'll choose to believe that,'" Y/N eyed him suspiciously, making the Alpha chuckle.

"And, I saw this necklace," Dick continued, taking the box from the Omega's hand and opening it.

When the male caught sight of the jewel inside, his breath hitched, unable to take his eyes off the shimmering blue gem.

"It reminded me of your research on the mythological lore of the two birds," Dick explained, pulling the necklace from its cushion, "Flamebird and–"

"Nightwing," Y/N finished his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," Dick smiled, "I guess the jeweler was a fan of the story. But, I remember you talking about their relationship, how they fell in love and were mates, destined to always be reborn and find each other, and it made me think of us, and how I don't ever want to think of life without you."

Take notes folks. Dude's got game.

"Y/N, will you accept this token and allow me the honor to court you, with the hope of becoming your Nightwing?"

Dick knew the Omega was going to later berate him and possibly hit him over the head with a pillow or something for making him cry at school. He liked to refer to himself as an emotional thug, something Jason accurately always called bullshit on.

"You're lucky you're cute you jerk," Y/N sniffled, hugging the Alpha tightly, "Of course, I will."

"Thank you, beautiful," Dick whispered, hugging the male back, ignoring the whistles and cheers of their classmates.

Y/N turned so his back was facing the Alpha, allowing him to clasp the necklace around his neck, the jewel resting near his heart. Dick smiled, wrapping his arms around the male and nuzzling his nose against the other's neck.

"Ugh, I'm calling it. They're so gonna get married and have a bunch of model babies." Manny gushed.

"I can't believe Y/N didn't realize sooner Dick was into him. How oblivious can you be?" Sasha asked.

"He's an Omega. It's a blessing and a curse. Blessing because they're usually the most beautiful and have the best genes. Curse because they're the most clueless and naive. If an Alpha wants to fuck, they're the easiest to seduce." Kevin replied.

"You're a pig. You're lucky no one has tried to castrate you yet." Ethan deadpanned.

"I'm not wrong."

"Still a pig, and you definitely are," Kara replied.

"Whatever. I still think Dick is a weak choice of an Alpha—"

"You're just mad because Y/N didn't go with you to homecoming."

"I'm not—shut up, Ethan! All I'm saying is that Dick is not the ideal choice for someone like Y/N. He needs an Alpha who's strong, can put him in his place when needed, and doesn't put up with his shit. Not a rich pretty boy who's spineless and soft. I'd even say Conner would be a better choice for him, not before myself though," Kevin stated, puffing his chest out a bit.

"Yeah, uh huh. Whatever helps you sleep at night, babes," Manny said, rolling his eyes.

"Just wait and see. When this ends in disaster, and Y/N realizes Dick can't protect or provide for him like a true Alpha can, he'll come running straight into my arms," Kevin said confidently, smirking.

"Maybe this is why you never get invited to Dick's parties anymore and always have to count on getting in with the rest of the football team," Kara mocked.

Kevin rolled his eyes, "Whatever I'm telling you, it's only a matter of time. Yeah, Dick's cool and nice and all that, but that's only going to get him so far. Plus, all the expensive gifts in the world don't compare to the value of a real Alpha," Kevin said while flexing his arms under his varsity jacket.

"Yeah, a real Alpha like you?" Sasha snickered.

"Exactly," Kevin smirked.

"Uh huh, sure. Keep dreaming, sweetie," Manny laughed.

He along with many others would indeed have to keep dreaming. Dick Grayson was not one to do things halfway.

The teen Alpha spared no expense when courting Y/N, taking him on extravagant dates, and spoiling him with lavish gifts. Of course, much of this was being spent on Bruce's coin, but the billionaire didn't mind if it meant he got to see his son happy.

Y/N also knew how Dick was the perfect gentleman (having an English butler who knew everything about being prim and proper helped a lot), but what he was seeing from the Alpha now was a completely different level of chivalry.

He was pulling out the chair for him if he wasn't opening the door for him or offering his coat. If he wasn't paying for the food or dessert, he was giving him his own. If he wasn't helping him into the car, he was holding his hand and making sure his seat belt was fastened.

Y/N was practically never allowed to pay for anything while in Dick's presence, or even in moments when he wasn't. When Y/N accidentally shattered his phone, his parents didn't even need to call the store to order a replacement cause Dick had gone ahead and ordered Y/N the latest new phone.

Dick wasn't just spending Bruce's money willy-nilly. Since Y/N accepted his courting date, Dick got a job just so he could use that extra money to spend on Y/N. Bruce just tended to fund the really expensive dates and gestures.

It gets to a point where Y/N has to think about his words carefully around the Alpha because, within a span of twenty to thirty minutes, it would be presented to him with a bright, adorable smile that made it impossible to be mad at him. The Omega was craving Wendys for lunch and without thinking about it said it out loud. On his way to lunch with a couple of friends, he was confused because Dick wasn't with him since they always walked together from lunch.

But, his sudden disappearance was immediately explained when after arriving at the cafeteria, he turned to see Dick walking in with bags from Wendys.

"Really?" Y/N eyed him with an amused raised brow as the Alpha set the food and drinks on the table.

"What?" Dick responded, an innocent look on his face.

That became more of their routine, even in situations where money was not involved. If Y/N wanted something, he wouldn't need to say a word, and Dick would do it.

One of Y/N's favorite things in the world was Alfred's baking, especially his cookies. On days when the Omega was feeling up to it or was just down in the dumps about something, Dick would surprise him with the cookies. Of course, he was paying for the ingredients and materials and just having Alfred do the baking, but Y/N didn't need to know that.

Sometimes, Y/N would get into a depressive funk about something and would start forgetting to take care of himself. His parents knew how to handle it, but nowadays, they just called Dick, and in under an hour, the Alpha was at their house helping Y/N get back on his feet. Helping him clean his room, organize things around him, and get himself back on track.

If you thought they were inseparable before, well, that was nothing compared to now.

Dick and Y/N were practically joined at the hip, always together, and always touching. Holding hands, shoulders, thighs, waist, etc.

And just as much as there was a slight change in Dick's behavior (in a positive manner of speaking), in how he treated the Omega, there was also a slight shift in his attitude towards others when it came to him as well. It wasn't obvious at first, but to those who paid attention or knew more about them, many could also see how much more protective Dick had grown of Y/N.

Don't be misled, Dick never lost his friendly and kind attitude with others. But, it was easy to see the Alpha tended to become a bit more on guard when with the Omega and they weren't solely around family like their parents or Conner and Jason.

Dick was always at Y/N's side or close by, ready to jump in at a moment's notice if he noticed even the slightest hesitation or uncomfortableness from his Omega. Which, no one would actively fault the Alpha for it, knowing it was typical for Alphas to become a bit more territorial and protective in any matter regarding the Omega they were courting.

And it didn't help that their school was full of prideful, jealous, and horny Alphas along with envious Betas and bitter Omegas. Even more considering they were all hormonal teenagers as well.

When it comes to a courting ritual, there is no greater challenge than competing with other potential suitors.

Since Dick currently held the title of one the most popular Alphas in school, if not the most popular one, mostly every Omega and a significant number of Betas wanted him as their boyfriend. But, since his eyes were on Y/N, that made the Omega in question the recipient of many fake, cheery smiles tinged with jealousy and obvious, hateful glares.

Which, to be honest, he didn't know which one unsettled him more.

On the other end, there were no shortages of Alphas and would-be suitors who saw and wanted Y/N as their mate. And with Dick suddenly courting the Omega, he'd pretty much made himself an open target, even if the majority of them were smart enough to know the consequences.

Dick didn't blame them, of course. Even though he always thought of his Omega as attractive, handsome, beautiful, and every other adjective in a thesaurus, he could clearly see how much Y/N had grown into himself since their early years as teenagers.

Y/N went from being one of the many everyone picked on and pushed around, to being one of the few most sought-after Omegas in the entire school. While puberty could be the literal curse of inconvenience and interruption, there was no arguing that it had its benefits as well.

And many would attest to those benefits personally. Not too much though since they knew Dick was a black belt in martial arts. But, there were always those who thought of themselves as untouchable and would try to test the waters, not realizing the depth of the ocean they were about to dive into.

"Oh, hey, Y/N. You're looking pretty hot today. Maybe we should hang out later. Grab some food or something," An Alpha said, leaning against his locker, his arm blocking his exit.

"Uh, thanks, but no thanks, Mike," Y/N politely declined, trying to pass the guy's arm, but the Alpha wouldn't budge.

"Aw, c'mon, baby. Don't be like that. You know, I could show you a good time. Better than what you've ever experienced. I could treat you right," The male purred, leaning in closer.

"I'm sure you could, but I'm not interested, sorry. Now, if you would excuse me, I have class," Y/N said, trying once again to push the other away.

"Why are you playing hard to get, huh? We both know that's not who you are, baby," Mike replied, grabbing the Omega's wrist and pushing him against the lockers.

"I said, 'no,'" Y/N glared, pushing the guy off him, "So, leave me alone."

"Aww, don't be like that. Come on, let's go have some fun, baby," Mike smirked, pulling the Omega into him.

"Mike, stop," Y/N said, struggling in his grip.

"Excuse me."

Both turned to see Dick, the Alpha's gaze sharp, and his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

"Dick! Hey, man. What's up?" Mike greeted, letting go of the Omega.

"Not much, just getting my books for next period out of my boyfriend's locker," Dick answered, moving to stand beside Y/N, putting a protective arm around his shoulder, "How about you?"

"Oh, uh, nothing much. Just hanging out. I was actually going to head to the library, so I'll see you later," The male tried to quickly excuse himself, only to turn and bump into Conner and Jason who were both standing there with their arms crossed, glaring at him.

"Going somewhere, Mike?" Conner asked, stepping forward.

"Yeah, man. Why the rush? You didn't seem like you were in a hurry a few minutes ago," Jason added, taking his place beside the other.

"No, no. I was just heading to the library. Need to catch up on some studying but uh, I'll catch you guys later," Mike said, but was once again stopped by the two Alphas.

"Why don't we walk with you? Make sure you make it there safely. It's the least we can do, right?" Jason said, a nervous look painted on the other's face.

"You wouldn't mind, would you?" Conner asked, an almost sinister smile on his lips.

"No, no. Of course not," Mike sighed, defeated.

"Well, then. Lead the way," Jason said, motioning for the guy to continue, watching him as he walked away.

"You're coming with us, right, Dickie?" Jason asked, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"Yeah, I can't let you two have all the fun," Dick smirked, before turning to Y/N, "Mind taking both our books to class, babe? I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Of course not," Y/N nodded, giving the three a small wave as they turned the corner.

The Omega sighed, shaking his head, "Bunch of idiots," He said fondly, walking to his next class.

No one was surprised when Mike turned up at school the next day sporting a black eye and plenty of bruises to match. The three Alphas would deny anything, but everyone could guess what happened.

"Still think Dick can't protect or provide like a real Alpha," Manny asked Kevin with a mocking attitude after they heard about the incident with Mike.

"Shut up, dude," Kevin glared, grumbling.

Dick would continue his courting, making sure to put the fear of God into any other Alpha who dared to lay a hand on his Omega. He was determined to prove his worth, not just to the Omega, but also to anyone else who doubted him.

After everything the Alpha had done, Y/N couldn't imagine anyone else better for him. Sure, Dick wasn't a traditional, stereotypical, and cliche Alpha. He was more on the reserved and kinder side of the spectrum.

But, that's what made him special. He was someone who could make you laugh, even on your worst days, and could comfort you without needing to say a word. When he wasn't the class clown, he was the one everyone could count on and rely on.

His patience was endless, his kindness boundless, and his loyalty unwavering. And, not to forget, the dude was super fucking hot.

Just as much as Y/N was emotionally and mentally attracted to Dick, not that he was looking at the Alpha in a different line since the beginning of this courting ritual, the physical attraction he felt was almost overwhelming.

Dick may not have been on any sports teams, but he might as well have been, cause the dude was fucking ripped. He had abs for days and a backside and thighs to die for. Not to mention, the muscles in his arms.

Y/N could feel himself salivate whenever he had the pleasure of seeing the Alpha undressed and was very lucky no one had ever seen him drooling over his best friend. And the same went for Dick, who'd always been attracted to Y/N but only had just recently started acting on those feelings.

And what did you get when you had two hormonal, in-love teenagers?

Two horny fuckers who couldn't keep their hands to themselves.

"We're going to be late," Y/N said, panting against the door of the janitor's closet they were in, his shirt discarded and pants unbuckled with Dick kneeling on the floor in front of him enjoying himself immensely on the Omega's arousal.

"Don't care," Dick murmured, the vibrations sending a jolt of pleasure through the younger's body.

"Someone's gonna find us," Y/N moaned, gripping the Alpha's hair tightly.

"They won't," Dick hummed, his tongue swirling around as he continued his erotic ministrations.

"Fuck," Y/N whimpered, his hips bucking forward.

"Any louder and you'll be the ones who get us caught," Dick teased, pressing a finger toward the Omega's slicked hole which pushed them over the edge.

"I hate you," Y/N panted, leaning his head against the door, his eyes closed as he tried to calm his racing heart.

"No, you don't. You love me," Dick smiled, the area around his mouth shiny with Y/N's arousal and cum as he stood up and pressed a kiss against the Omega's cheek.

"Ew! Dick, gross," Y/N whined, wiping and cheek and pushing the Alpha back.

"What? It came from your body! That's basically kissing you," Dick chuckled, fixing his clothes.

"That's not how it works and you know it. You're disgusting. I'm not doing this with you anymore," Y/N stated, cleaning himself up.

That was a lie.

Y/N found himself in a role-reversal situation as he was on his knees, forcing the Alpha against the wall while bobbing his head up and down on the Alpha's cock with unforgiving energy.

"Fuck, baby. She was only giving me her notes for the physics exam," Dick groaned, his hand fisting the Omega's hair.

"I'm sure," Y/N growled, his teeth lightly scraping along the length, his mouth still working, "That's probably why she was trying to scent mark you too, right?"

"She wasn't–shit, babe. Fucking hell, that's it. Right there," Dick moaned, his hips thrusting forward.

"Wasn't what? Going to try and get you to knot her in the bathroom stall after the test? Cause, I'm pretty sure that's what her plan was, right?" Y/N seethed, his hand pumping the Alpha's shaft, his tongue flicking the slit.

"Geez, who knew you could get so jealous," Dick chuckled, his breathing ragged.

"Shut the fuck up. Don't think I won't bite this thing off," Y/N threatened, his teeth lightly scraping the flesh.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. But, you don't have to worry, alright? There's no one else but you, Y/N. No matter how many Omegas try and throw themselves at me, my eyes will always be on you. Only you," Dick promised, caressing the other's cheek.

Y/N only gave him a look before his mouth was engulfing the Alpha's cock, sucking and licking the throbbing appendage while squeezing at the base to prevent him from cumming.

"Fucking hell, baby. I'm sorry, okay. I won't talk to her again. Promise," Dick whimpered, his orgasm feeling like he was going to collapse if he didn't cum down the Omega's throat soon.

"Damn right, you won't. This here belongs to me. Understand?" Y/N stated his tone firm and commanding while gripping the hard cock in his hand harder for emphasis.

"Yes. Shit, yes. Please, Y/N," Dick begged, his legs starting to shake.

"Who's is it, Dickie?"

"Yours,"

"Who's the only one who gets to taste, touch, or smell this?"

"Only you,"

"Good," Y/N purred, his tongue running to the shaft and its leaking head.

"Oh my god," Dick moaned, his breath coming out in heavy pants.

"You're all mine, Dick Grayson," Y/N declared, his lips wrapping around the swollen head, sucking and licking the precum.

"Yours. All yours, beautiful. Only you," Dick whimpered, his hips rocking gently, his eyes rolling back as he came into the Omega's mouth.

Y/N greedily swallowed, his hands moving to squeeze and massage the Alpha's balls, milking him dry. Dick stared down at the sight of the Omega with his cock still inside his mouth, the male's cheeks hollowed out as he sucked.

"Tastes so good," Y/N hummed, his tongue lapping up the remaining liquid.

"Jesus, babe," Dick groaned, pulling the Omega off the ground and onto his feet.

"What?" Y/N asked innocently, smiling at the Alpha.

"Nothing," Dick smiled, kissing him, "You're just amazing, that's all."

They couldn't get enough of each other, continuing their sneaking off to empty classrooms and bathrooms, sometimes even the gym showers and the locker rooms. They would usually do their "business" in the middle of the day, right after lunch or in the morning.

They would try to do it at each other's house, but would constantly get interrupted by their parents, who more often than not knew what their kids were getting up to. They were teenagers themselves once and didn't want to risk the young Alpha and Omega making a mistake.

It's why neither was allowed to hang out in the other's room without the door open. They used to sleep in the same bed when they were younger, but after they presented and especially started becoming a couple, both Y/N's parents and Dick's dad had to lay down some strict rules.

Didn't mean they would listen though.

"Dick, stop," Y/N whimpered, his hands gripping Dick's forearms as he laid with his back against the Alpha's shirtless chest, his hips rocking into the Alpha's fingers.

"Fuck, baby. So fucking wet," Dick groaned, his fingers thrusting into the Omega's slick, heated hole.

"Dick, your dad or Alfred could hear us and walk in at any moment," Y/N panted, his legs quivering.

"You should've thought about that before you teased me in the car," Dick whispered, his fingers curling and pressing against the spot that had the Omega crying out.

"Fuck!" Y/N whimpered, his fist flying up to his mouth and biting down.

"Yeah, that's it, babe. Stay quiet as you can," Dick husked, his pace increasing, his fingers stretching the Omega's hot walls.

"Mmph," Y/N moaned, his head falling back against the Alpha's shoulder, his hips rocking against the other's hand.

"That's it, baby. Just like that. Feel so good, babe. Gonna ruin this tight little hole of yours," Dick purred, his free hand tweaking and tugging at the Omega's sensitive nipples.

"Dick, please. Wanna cum," Y/N cried, his hand reaching behind and gripping the Alpha's neck.

"Then, cum. Show me how much you love it when I fuck you with my fingers, baby," Dick grunted, his fingers twisting and curling.

"Shit, shit, shit," Y/N chanted, his voice muffled as he bit down on his fist, his orgasm ripping through him, his cum coating his stomach.

"Hey dudes– OH MY FUCKING GOD!"

Both males froze, their heads snapping towards the door, their eyes widening as they saw Jason and Conner standing there, their mouths hanging open.

"Guys! What the fuck!" Dick immediately grabbed his comforter to cover Y/N.

"Dude! We didn't need to see that! What the fuck!" Jason shouted, his hands covering his face.

"This is the worst day ever," Conner mumbled, his eyes closed and shaking his head.

"Get the fuck out!" Dick growled, throwing a pillow at the two.

"Don't have to tell us twice!"

Both boys immediately turned around and ran out of the room, closing the door shut.

"Those two idiots. I'm gonna kill them," Dick grumbled, his arms wrapping protectively around the Omega.

"Well, we should've been more careful," Y/N said, sighing as he still was coming down from his orgasm and the shock of their friends walking in on them.

"Yeah, well. You were the one who decided to tease me the entire car ride," Dick defended.

"Whatever, I'm taking a shower. I feel sticky and gross," Y/N huffed, removing himself from the Alpha's grasp and heading to the bathroom.

"I'm joining you," Dick stated, getting up and following him.

"You're insatiable," Y/N shook his head, a smile on his lips.

"Only for you, baby," Dick winked, shutting the door behind him.

He was indeed insatiable, and it only got worse when they finally did the entire deed, Dick craving every touch and drop of the Omega he could get. It'd get even worse when his instincts and his jealous and territorial side would show when another Alpha would stupidly try to make a move on his Omega.

Now, that Dick had gotten a full taste of the Omega, outside and in, no one could compare. And the thought of someone else touching his Omega, made his blood boil.

Y/N's thighs had trembled as he lay back against the leather back seats of Dick's sports car, the Alpha's large firm, and sweaty body hovering over him as he snapped his hips forwards, inserting his full length inside the Omega. The car rocked back and forth with the force of his thrusts, making the tinted windows fog and preventing anyone from seeing the two teens inside.

"Mine. All mine," Dick growled, his nails digging into the Omega's plush hips, the sound of their skin slapping together echoing.

"Fuck, Dick," Y/N whined, his legs spreading wider, allowing the Alpha to reach deeper, his thrusts unforgiving.

Dick kissed the inside of the Omega's neck, bringing his sweaty body closer when he could feel it sliding up and retreating from his harsh movements. He pressed Y/N harder into the seats as he increased his pace, causing the Omega's moans and noises to reach a higher volume.

"Don't run from me," Dick grunted, his lips capturing the other's in a searing kiss as fucked into him at an even rougher pace.

He nudged Y/N's thighs apart with his hips that attempted to close from reflex, the Omega's body jolting with every deep, forceful thrust. Y/N let out a strained moan, his nails scratching down the Alpha's broad and muscular back as he was fucked like a slut, praying in the back of his mind none of their classmates would notice it steamy and rocking vehicle.

"No one else gets to have you. No one but me. You're mine, Y/N. Always have and always will be. Understand?" Dick's teeth scraped along the male's scent gland as he felt himself getting closer to his finish, "Say it. Say you're mine," He growled, his hands gripping the Omega's ass, pushing his legs further apart, and holding him in place, his cock drilling into the younger's abused and leaking hole.

"Yours," Y/N sobbed, his tears running down his cheeks, his face flushed red, his heart pounding as he was overwhelmed with pleasure, his body on fire, "All yours, Dick. Forever and always."

Dick smiled at the proclamation, eyeing the blew pendant necklace laying against the Omega's sweaty skin right over his heart, his chest puffing out, pride swelling within him, "My Omega," He purred, before delivering a few more thrusts, slamming into the Omega with a loud groan as he shot his load into the condom.

The pair lay there, panting, trying to regain their breath. Dick had his head tucked against the Omega's neck, his arms wrapped around him tightly, his knot keeping him connected.

"Are you satisfied now?" Y/N breathed, his eyes closed, his hands resting on the Alpha's broad and sweaty back.

"For now," Dick answered, smiling, pressing a kiss against the male's skin.

"I swear if anyone saw us and spread this around the school because you got a little jealous–"

"A 'little' jealous? I was not a little jealous. That guy was all over you and wouldn't take no for an answer. I had to step in," Dick defended.

"We were talking, Dick. He was asking me for notes about the history final. Not every Alpha or Beta that talks to me is going to be another Mike," Y/N explained.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Shut up and cuddle me. I need affection," Dick pouted, snuggling the Omega.

Y/N chuckled, rolling his eyes, but did as asked, wrapping his arms and legs around the Alpha.

"There, better?"

"Much," Dick smiled with another soft kiss to the Omega's chest, right by his necklace.

"Good. Now, when are we getting you the necklace to match mine?" Y/N asked, his fingers tracing the lines of the muscles on the Alpha's back.

"Patience, baby," Dick chuckled, his hand rubbing up and down the smooth and soft body under him.

"Don't tell me to be patient," Y/N grumbled, pouting, "If you're Nightwing then I have to be Flamebird, which means you need a necklace that looks like a Flamebird. We're a mated pair, remember?"

"Oh I remember," Dick smirked, flexing his dick inside the Omega's warm walls.

"Fuck. Don't do that," Y/N whined, his legs tightening around the Alpha's waist, his back arching off the bed.

"Sorry, baby," Dick apologized, not sounding sorry at all.

"You're not," Y/N rolled his eyes.

"Nope," Dick grinned, his tongue licking up the Omega's neck.

Dick continued courting Y/N throughout the rest of the school year. As expected, they were each other's date to the prom where they proceeded to have hot, crazy sex at their hotel, and then came graduation.

To no one's surprise, other than maybe Y/N's, Dick proposed at their commencement ceremony, in front of everyone, the whole school watching. The Omega said yes, of course, and they were congratulated and cheered by their classmates and faculty.

Their parents were surprised, not expecting the couple to take the next step so quickly. They were happy for their sons, of course, but wanted them to be sure. Dick and Y/N agreed to both wait till after college to actually get married, fine with just being fiances' for now.

Someone had caught a picture of them kissing after Dick proposed and replaced the photo they had initially of them in the school's cutest couple section of their class yearbooks. The bunch of saps.

It was a love story straight out of the books—wait a second...

...

Nah.

☀️ | Dick Grayson/Nightwing | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

🏍️ | Jason: The Rebel | 🏍️ • 🏈 | Conner: The Jock | 🏈

[cressidagrey]

Looked to the Sky - Chapter 1

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings: 

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Elain Bashing, Low Self Esteem, Azriel is kind an idiot, Rhys is for once a good older brother, and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

Azriel was currently regretting his life choices that had brought him to this moment. 

“Wow,” Cassian drawled as he stared at the wall in Azriel‘s room in the House of Wind that was covered in…research. 

Intelligence. Information. Whatever one wanted to call it. 

And Azriel was ready to rip his hair out. 

“I did it all wrong,” he growled, slamming the dusty old tome the shadows had procured for him closed…only for them to take it out of his hands and open it up to check for themselves. 

“What did you do wrong?” Cassian asked as he stepped nearer to the wall, staring at all the things Azriel had pinned up there. 

It was a complete and utter mess

“This said that I should have given Eira a gift when I made my first courting overture.“

What kind of mate was he, when he couldn’t even follow the bloody rules of human men for her? 

He had been supposed to procure a gift before even asking her to let him court her. He should have started with that gift. Actually no, they would have been supposed to dance together at a ball, then he should have made that decision to court her, then he should have gotten the first gift and then…

“Well, you could argue that since your shadows bought her things, you did it?“ Cassian suggested and Azriel growled.

“That’s not the same,“ he snapped. “I am supposed to give her a gift that shows my deep affection and appreciation of who she is as a person…What in the world am I supposed to give her?“

Cassian chuckled at Azriel’s frustration, stepping closer to the wall and peering at the various items pinned up.

“You’re overthinking this, you know?“ he said, a smirk on his face. “Just give her something that’s meaningful to you and her, something that shows her how important she is to you.“

Azriel growled. This was not helpful. "Also how is a pearl necklace a show of deep affection and appreciation?" he asked Cassian. Cassian just stared at him. "That was one of the first suggestions the book had," he said with a sigh. The book about human courtship rituals. Well, one of them at least. It was better to get his information from more than one source after all.

Cassian crossed his arms over his chest, his smirk only widening. "Well, apparently humans think that something shiny and expensive is the way to go," he teased. "You’re not exactly giving her a ring yet, so you could consider it a placeholder."

Azriel's eyes darkened. "I don’t want a placeholder," he growled. "I want something real. Something that shows her how much she means to me, not just how much I can spend on her."

"Could it be that you are taking this a little bit too seriously?" Cassian said carefully.

Azriel bristled at Cassian’s comment. “Of course not,” he said sharply. “This is Eira. My mate. This isn’t like some casual fling I’ve had for a little fun. This is different, and I won't just let it go without putting the effort in that she deserves.”

Cassian held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I know, I know,” he said, a slight hint of amusement in his voice. “Believe me, I’ve never seen you so worked up over a female before. It’s just…you’re acting as if the fate of the entire world rests on this courtship gift.”

Well, it did. The fate of his entire world. The fate of his children. He needed to get this right.

“You’re being dramatic,” Cassian said, shaking his head. “It’s not like the gift is going to ruin everything. You’re acting like if you don’t get this right, the whole idea of you and Eira being mates will just poof into thin air.”

He growled in annoyance. 

“Are you trying to court my sister or kill her?” Nesta's voice came from the doorway, her arms crossed as she stared at his wall.

Azriel whipped around to see Nesta standing in the doorway. His irritation deepened at her unexpected intrusion.

"Court her, obviously," he grumbled.

Nesta sighed. "“This is obsessive, Az. Also creepy," she told him drily. "You are approaching this like Eira is the King of Hybern and not your mate."

Azriel let out an exasperated growl. He wasn't obsessed; he was just being thorough. He had never cared about anyone as much as he did Eira, and he didn't want to mess this up.

"I’m simply doing my due diligence," he replied, trying to sound as firm and confident as possible. "I won’t fail her. I won't.”

Nesta rolled her eyes at Azriel’s comment. “Then stop acting like she’s some adversary to be conquered and start treating her like your mate already,” she said. “This is about your love for her, not your obsession to control every little detail.”

Cassian snorted, chuckling. “Only you, Az,” he chortled. 

Azriel shot Cassian a dark look, clearly not amused by the comment. “This is not a laughing matter, Cassian,” he said through clenched teeth. “This is serious. I need to get this right, and I can’t afford to mess it up.”

"How about you start with what you know about her? What are her hobbies?" Nesta suggested.

"I am not buying her needles or a shovel or a rolling pin. Or a toy for Nyx," AAzriel responded immediately. He had already gone through all her hobbies: Sewing, gardening for fruits and vegetables and cooking and baking.

Cassian let out a snort, clearly amused by Azriel’s response. “Why not? Those could all be very useful gifts,” he teased. “Especially the rolling pin, I bet she could beat someone over the head with it. You know, for that assassin instinct of hers.”

"Or I could borrow it and hit you with it," Nesta muttered under her breath.

Cassian chuckled at Nesta’s comment. “I’d like to see you try, Nes-“ he began to reply, but was cut off as Azriel growled at them both.

“Enough. I don’t need you two bickering.” He massaged his temples, trying to hold back the headache that was starting to form

"Well, doesn't Eira sing?" Cassian suggested.

Azriel paused slightly and he thought for a moment, recalling a memory of hearing Eira singing softly to herself.

"Yes," he said quietly. "She does. But that doesn't help me at all unless you have an idea in that thick skull of yours."

"She used to play the harp," Nesta said quietly. “Well, not the dead trove harp. A real, human harp,” she clarified.  

Azriel's interest was piqued. "She plays harp?" he asked, turning his attention to Nesta. "In all the time we’ve been together, I’ve never heard her mention that."

"We all learned some kind of instruments. It was vital for a well-rounded education. She was the only one who enjoyed it," Nesta explained.

Azriel thought for a moment. That actually sounded ideal. His shadows immediately perked up at the idea, starting to whisper amongst themselves.

"A harp…" he mused. "A harp could be perfect. If I can manage to find one that's good enough."

Cassian chuckled. "You'll probably spend the next year researching harps, won’t you?" he teased.

"I don't have time for that," Azriel responded.

Cassian rolled his eyes. "Sure, you don’t," he said dryly. "That’s why you’ve been holed up in this room for the past three days researching things humans consider romantic. I bet your research for this is more extensive than your missions."

“She's more important than a mission," Azriel said evenly. "Also, Hybern was less terrifying."

"Go buy her a harp, Az. Alternatively, if you want her to start crying, buy her a kitten," Nesta said with a shrug. "Though maybe not...Though that will only live a decade and then she’ll be heartbroken."

"Why should it die that quickly?" he asked Nesta, furrowing his brows.

Nesta gave him a deadpan look. "Have you never met a cat before, Azriel?" she said. "That’s how long kittens live. A decade, at most. And that's not even considering the time it takes a cat to grow from a kitten to an adult. You’ll be lucky if Eira gets fifteen years."

"Magical cats live...a very long time," Cassian disagreed.

Nesta stared at Cassian. “How long do magical cats live?” she demanded. 

"Well, theoretically forever," Cassian said with a shrug. “Unless they are killed by a predator of course.”

Azriel sighed. He could see where this was going. This was one of those decisions where there was no clear-cut right path.

Cassian, sensing his hesitation, chuckled. “Come on, Az. Where’s that ‘mysterious broody spy’ everyone loves?”

"Kitten or Harp?" he muttered.

"Just buy her one and keep the other for her birthday," Nesta suggested.

Azriel shot Nesta a glare. “Stop thinking so far ahead when I can barely decide on the first one,” he muttered, making her laugh. 

Cassian just smirked. “That’s rich, considering how much work you’ve put into this entire thing.”

*******

Eira had always liked being outside. 

When they had still been in that godforsaken cottage, Eira had taken her mending outside...had doted on that little patch of horrible earth that had only ever managed to grow a couple of potatoes, carrots, radishes and green beans...so many green beans...

But she had loved it. Even the small, withered things she had been able to grow there, it had been her tiny corner outside. She had prised her hands with dirt, tended to those potatoes and carrots, and had felt alive. Now she was terrified to even look outside the window.

Now, Eira would have loved to simply lock herself in her closet, because there was no window there...to go hide there, because maybe there she would be safe…

It was irrational, she knew that. She couldn’t help it. Every time she looked out of a window, she saw them again. Saw these horrible dark uniforms…saw the faces of the men she had killed. She saw them again and her chest burned in response, her stomach turning, bile rising in her throat.

She couldn’t help it. 

"It's healing very well," Madja told her, weathered fingertips trailing over the closed gash just underneath her breast. Eira stared at the ceiling, wishing herself far, far away. It had healed well. In just a few days, it had closed, just a thin red line reminding her of what had happened.

A thin red line and the feeling of lightning crackling underneath her skin. 

Eira winced as Madja touched her tender skin, the scar still sore to the touch. Even with her accelerated healing, it would take some time before she would fully recover.

"Are you still experiencing any pain?" the elderly healer asked kindly, her eyes studying Eira closely. Eira took a deep breath, trying to find her voice. The pain was the least of her worries. She had felt worse. So much worse.

"No, not much," she replied quietly, her eyes fluttering shut. "Just a little...some twinges, here and there."

Madja nodded, her expression a bit sceptical. She had probably seen hundreds, maybe thousands of patients in her life, and she could likely tell when they weren't being entirely truthful. "Are you sure?" she pressed gently.

Eira’s face twisted into a grimace. She didn't want to be....she didn't want to be weak. She didn't want to...She had seen how Cassian's wings had been shredded, how Azriel had an ash bolt shot in his chest...and neither of them had complained. And she...she had a single knife stuck inside her and it felt like…

“Eira,” Feyre said, her voice taking on an edge.

She knew that Feyre was right, she knew that she should be honest with the healer. But saying it out loud, voicing her fears and anxieties, would just make her...so pathetic.

Still, she took a deep breath and looked at Madja, meeting her gaze. "It...It hurts," she admitted quietly. "More than just...it hurts, whenever I move."

Feyre squeezed Eira's hand tightly. Madja nodded, her eyes studying Eira with a careful, almost calculating gaze, before it softened, a flicker of sympathy passing over her features.

"I suspected as much," the healer said bluntly. "A wound like that can heal on the surface, but sometimes the internal damage is more severe than it appears." Eira‘s breath hitched. The internal damage. The internal damage she had done to herself when she had killed these males…when she had…burned them alive. 

"You should rest," Madja said quietly. "You need to give your body time to heal completely, or you'll risk making the damage worse...you can leave the room and sit outside...but you should not do anything strenuous like gardening or training or whatever else you normally get up to. Though the sunshine outside would do you well," Madja pointed out.

Sunshine...outside. Outside. Alone the thought made Eira break out in cold sweat.

Her breathing turned shallow at the thought of being outside. She knew she couldn't stay in this room forever, but...the thought of being outside...Alone...In the open air, with no protective walls around her...It made her heart race. She could feel Feyre's worried gaze on her.

Madja also studied Eira carefully. "No training," she said pointedly, "but you should try to go outside for a little...Sunshine and fresh air will do you good. It's good for healing."

"I...I’ll try," she managed to choke out, her voice barely more than a whisper.

She didn’t want to go outside. She didn’t want to leave her room.

Madja finished, and Feyre went to bring her to the door…leaving Eira alone. She forced herself to sit up, to pull her nightgown back together…and then escaped into the bathing chamber. No windows. No windows meant she was safe. Once the door to the bathing chamber closed firmly behind her, Eira allowed herself to finally break. She sagged against the door, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Alone. No windows. Safe.

She was vaguely aware of tears falling down her face. It seemed like that was all she ever did these days, cry herself into exhaustion. She didn’t even know how often she had woken up that particular night…how often the shadows had come to soothe her back to sleep. The shadows came every time Eira awoke with a start, her heart pounding or tears streaming down her face. They were always there. 

They would whisper to her, wrapping around her like a comforting blanket, soothing her back to sleep.

You are alright, they whispered now too. You are safe.  She wondered if they didn’t have anything better to do. No more important people to spy on. Why don’t you wash your face? the suggested gently. Water. Face.

Wash her face, repeated Eira mentally, slowly gathering her thoughts.

The shadows were right, of course. She should wash her face. Her eyes looked as tired and red-rimmed as she felt. Perhaps washing her face would...would help her feel somewhat better, even if only a little.

She took a deep breath, as she dried her face on the towel the shadows found for her…and then they fluttered around her like a swarm of excited butterflies, bringing her a new nightgown and dressing gown. She took a moment to examine them.  

The nightgown was a much darker colour than her usual ones, a deep, rich blue instead of the usual whites and creams. She looked at the dressing gown, taking note of its heavier fabric. The shadows were right to have chosen it - the nights were getting chilly, after all.

But still… “Did you steal it from Feyre?” She asked weakly, even as they helped her shrug out of the old dressing gown. They let her deal with her nightgown, never touching her naked skin anywhere but her hands and face if they could help it, as they drew the new one over her body…and then stuck silky soft slippers on her feet.

The shadows didn't respond to her question, and for a moment Eira wondered if they even heard her. But she had no time to dwell on it further: they were already working on her hair, untangling her braid with deft, careful movements and brushing it out. They started to braid it again, a new, different braid than the usual ones she wore, pulling it back from her face. The braiding was precise and quick as if they had done this many times before.

“How did you learn that?“ she wondered quietly.

The shadows paused for a moment, almost as if they were contemplating her question. They continued braiding her hair though, a little faster than before.

Practice, they whispered, their voices low and quiet, barely above a whisper.

Eira let out a small huff. Sometimes, she had the distinct impression that the shadows were purposefully not answering her questions, or giving her a non-answer, as they had just done. But she didn’t have the energy to press them for an answer, no matter how much she wanted to hear one.

So instead, she just leaned against the sink quietly, letting the shadows tend to her hair.

You should go outside. The sun is shining. The healer said it would be good for you.

No. She didn’t want to go outside. She didn’t want to…She wanted to stay in this room, in this safe, dark and windowless room…

She didn’t want sunshine. Didn’t want fresh air. 

It would do you good, the shadows continued, their voices low and soothing. Go outside. Sit in the sun.

“I can’t.“ she forced out.

The shadows paused in their work, just for a moment.

You can, they insisted firmly, their voices growing almost persuasive. It’s good for you. You will feel better once you go.

She highly doubted that. Her hands turned clammy at only the thought.  As soon as the shadows finished braiding her hair, they flitted away, making a beeline for the door. Eira tried to call out, to stop them, to tell them that no, she couldn’t go, but the words died in her throat, the door opening before she could even try.

Rhys was there, standing in the middle of her room.

She had no clue what he even wanted from her. She had spent the last couple of days…resting. Sleeping half the day away, which wasn’t helped by her nightmares at seemingly every damn moment…Nesta and Feyre had kept her company when they had. She hadn’t so much as sneak a peek at Azriel since their…talk two days ago. Though his shadows were a constant companion of hers, doting on her like a cat would do to a sole kitten. 

Now…Eira’s heart thudded in her chest at the sight of him. He didn’t look angry, but he didn’t look...friendly either. He just looked at her with watchful, careful eyes as she stared back at him, frozen like a deer before a hunter.

The silence was thick, stretched thin like a rope that was about to snap. Eira bit her lip, unable to tear her gaze away from Rhys’ searching stare. She could feel a sheen of sweat on her skin, her heart thudding so hard she was surprised it hadn’t burst out of her chest yet.

Her knees trembled, and she nearly pitched forward, if the shadows hadn’t caught her. The shadows appeared out of thin air, wrapping themselves around her like a silky, dark blanket as she swayed on her feet. They held her up, stopping her from falling to the ground.

Rhys was suddenly at her side, wrapping his arms around her as well, his hands warm and firm against her cold, clammy skin.

“Shhh, I got you, little one,” he shushed her. Rhys’ voice was soft, gentle, and soothing, his hands firm around her. Eira sagged against him gratefully, her body trembling and her breath coming in short gasps.

“It’s alright. I won’t let you fall,” he murmured, as he scooped her up, easily carrying her like she weighed nothing.

She thought she probably didn’t. Just because he didn’t have arms the size of tree trunks like Cassian did, didn’t mean that Rhys wasn’t an Illyrian warrior trained in his own right. 

He had absolutely no problem with just swinging her up like she did to Nyx. 

“Bed or do you want to brave the garden?” he asked her carefully. “Madja said some fresh air would be good for you.”

Of course, he already knew. 

She swallowed, her heart racing.

Bed was safe, comfortable, and familiar. She wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day there, under the covers and away from the world. To go outside...to face the wide-open sky...that was a terrifying prospect.

“Bed,” she whispered.

Rhys nodded, carrying her over to the bed and gently placing her on it. The shadows fluffed the pillows behind her, letting her lean against them in a comfortable position.

She expected her brother-in-law to disappear again, though she had no clue why he had even come to see her in the first place. Didn’t he have something more important to do? Like, run this court maybe? 

But he didn’t disappear again. Instead, he sat down next to her, not touching her, just staying close enough that she could feel his presence. “Madja said the garden would be good for you,” Rhys insisted quietly. He wasn’t looking at her as he spoke, his gaze fixed on the wall across the room. “Fresh air, sunshine...she said it would help you recover faster,” he continued, his voice neutral.

Recover. Recover what? Recover that bit of her that had died on that playground when she had killed these men without even thinking about it? She had taken multiple lives. And she was just supposed to be fine with it?!

Eira chewed on her lower lip. She knew what the healer had said, but...the thought of going outside, of being away from the safety of these four walls, was enough to send her heart racing in her chest.

“I...” she started, her voice trembling. “I can’t.”

Rhys turned to look at her then, his expression carefully neutral. “Why not?” he asked, his voice quiet but firm. ”It’s just the garden,” he said evenly.

Eira felt a flicker of irritation rise in her chest at his words.

”it was just the playground,” she shot back shakily. Rhys visibly froze, his eyes widening as he flinched visibly. She could see the pain in his eyes, the hurt and the guilt...but she didn’t care. She couldn’t care.

“Eira...” he started, his voice suddenly hoarse.

“I can’t,” she whispered. She knew it was stupid. She knew. But she couldn’t help it. It must be ridiculous to him, to a 500-year-old warrior that she was afraid of facing the outside but she couldn’t help it. She was utterly terrified. 

“You need to heal,” he said quietly, his voice gentle but firm. “You need the sunshine, the fresh air. You can’t just stay locked up in here forever...” She could. 

She really could. 

If it stopped her from feeling like dying, she would stay right here for the rest of her life. 

“What…What is it that scares you?” Rhys asked her gently.  Her breath hitched in her throat at his question.

She opened her mouth, trying to find the words to explain how terrified she was, how the very thought of leaving this room filled her with a sense of dread that was nearly paralysing… “I don’t want it to happen again,” she choked out.

Rhys’ face darkened at her words, his eyes filling with anger and pain.

“It won’t,” he said, his voice tight. “I won’t let it. You’re safe, Eira. No one will hurt you in that garden. I swear.”

Eira wanted to believe him, wanted desperately to cling to his words like a lifeline...but she couldn’t. The fear lodged in her chest like a rock, refusing to be dislodged.

“You can’t promise that,” she whispered, her voice small and shaky.

“Yes, I can,” Rhys cut her off. “You’ll go outside and I’ll be right there. And if any rogue darkbringers suddenly show up, I’ll mist them with a single thought,” he promised her fiercely. “It won’t happen again.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart beating furiously in her chest. It sounded so easy when he said it like that, so simple. He would keep her safe, keep her protected...

“Let’s just try it,“ Rhys said softly. “We can go back inside if you can’t stand it, little one.”

Eira chewed on her lower lip, her fingers trembling in her lap.

Just try it. We can go back inside if you can’t stand it. 

Those words gave her a small flicker of hope, a lifeline to cling to. Eira took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady her nerves. “Alright,” she agreed weakly.

Rhys smiled at her words, the expression strained but genuine. He stood up from the bed, holding out his hand to her.

“Come on then,” he said gently. “Let’s go sit in the garden.”

Eira swallowed, her entire body tense with anxiety. She looked at his outstretched hand, feeling her heart race at the thought of taking it.

For a moment, she couldn’t move, her entire body frozen and immobile. But then, with trembling fingers, she reached out and slowly took his hand.

Rhys’ hand was warm, strong and firm around hers. He held her hand gently, as if he were afraid she might break, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“That’s it,” he murmured gently. “We can go as slowly as you need.”

She nodded weakly, her knuckles turning white as she gripped his hand tightly. Slowly, hesitantly, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her body trembled as she stood up, her feet feeling unsteady on the floor.

Rhys was there, hovering close to her side, supporting her gently as she took her first shaky steps away from the bed. The shadows flitted around her like dark, flickering butterflies, whispering reassuring words that she could barely hear over the pounding of her heart.

“Eira…how about you let me carry you?”

Her breath hitched at the suggestion, her heart skipping a beat.

Her first instinct was to refuse, to shake her head and insist on walking on her own. But her legs felt like jelly, her steps unsteady and shaky...and she hated the thought of looking weak, of being lifted like some helpless child.

But as much as she hated it, she knew she would crumble if she walked on her own, her legs giving out like a newborn fawn.

So, with a small, defeated nod, she agreed.

“I…alright,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Rhys wasted no time in scooping her up in his arms, lifting her with ease. She tried not to let it bother her, not to think about how pathetic she must look, being cradled like a child.

The shadows fluttered closer, their dark forms brushing against her skin as they whispered gentle words of reassurance.

You’re doing well. one of them whispered in her ear, its voice low and soothing. The High Lord is right here. You’re safe.

"It will be fine," Rhys promised her as he carried her down the stairs, making no appearance that the extra weight of her in his arms bothered him in any way. "Just outside. We'll sit on the terrace, and nothing bad will happen."

Eira clung to his words like a lifeline, her hands trembling as they clutched at his shoulder.

She tried to ignore the way her heart raced, the way her blood thundered in her ears...she tried to focus on Rhys’ voice, on his words assuring her that it would be fine.

The terrace wasn’t far, it seemed. Soon enough, they were there, the doors swinging open silently as they approached.

Outside. Out of the relative safety of the house. Outside.

Eira clenched her teeth, the panic rising in her chest.

The air around them was fresh and crisp, the faint scent of grass and trees filling her nostrils. The sun streamed down, its warmth caressing her skin...and yet, Eira felt cold, her breath coming in small, shallow gasps as her heart thumped against her chest.

The wide-open space, the vastness of the sky, was suddenly so much more overwhelming. It felt like it was pressing down on her like it was closing in...

She heard a deep rumble of thunder, could feel something static-y in the air...felt the taste of metal in her mouth...

"Take a deep breath, Little One," Rhys soothed her. "It's alright. We are there already..." Just a moment later, he put her down onto the soft cushion that covered the lounge area on one side of the terrace...a place where she had often laid down Nyx for his afternoon nap this summer...

The plush cushions were a familiar comfort, their softness reminding her of the times she had spent with her nephew…

She tried to focus on that, on the memories of those times instead of the overwhelming feeling of being outside...but as she looked around, as she took in the sheer vastness of the sky stretching out in every direction, it was almost too much.

Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, and she found herself clinging to Rhys’ arm, her fingers digging into his skin.

"You are alright," he promised her again. She knew it was ridiculous. He must think she was utterly mental that being outside scared her, overwhelmed her into silent fear.

Eira was sure he must think her completely insane: Scared of being outside, of being in the open...it was ridiculous. It was pathetic.

But she couldn’t help it, no matter how much she tried to calm herself down, to shove her fear back down. It had a hold on her, a tight grip that she couldn’t shake no matter how hard she tried.

"It's alright to be afraid," Rhys said quietly. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

Eira tried to believe his words, tried to take comfort in them. But it was hard, so hard. Her fear felt so stupid, so silly, so pointless.

She should be able to handle being outside, shouldn’t be so terrified of it…and yet here she was, clinging to Rhys like a frightened child, her heart thundering in her chest. The High Lord of the Night Court had volunteered to be her protector and she was still utterly and completely...terrified.

The shadows fluttered around her, sensing her fear, her terror...whispering softly in her ear, trying to calm her, to soothe her. But even their attempts couldn’t stop the way her body trembled, the way her heart raced.

Rhys wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer to his side. His touch was gentle but firm, a silent reassurance that he was there, that she wasn’t alone.

"You have every right to be afraid, Eira. That doesn't make you weak, little sister. It only means that you went through something traumatic and you haven't fully dealt with that yet," Rhys said softly. "I still wake up from nightmares. So does your sister. Cassian, Azriel...all of us deal with that as well."

"I am pathetic, " she whimpered.

Rhys’ expression darkened at her words, his jaw clenching.

“No, you’re not,” he said, his voice firm. “You’re the farthest thing from pathetic, Eira. Some fully fledged warriors would have taken one look at these Darkbringers and ran. They wouldn’t have stood their ground.” He huffed, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t you ever call yourself that again? Do you understand me?”

"In what world am I brave?" Eira asked weakly, her hands still trembling, fear settled in some kind of panic in the back of her brain, leaving her utterly spent and exhausted.

"You threw yourself between my son and a knife, Eira," Rhys told her drily. "In what world isn't that brave?"

Eira’s breath hitched in her throat as he spoke, and her mind suddenly filled with the memory of that day.

She had done that, hadn’t she? She had thrown herself in front of a knife for Nyx, not caring what happened to herself as long as the baby was safe… For Nyx, she had done that. She hadn't thought twice about it either.

But it had been for a good cause, in a moment of crisis. This…this was just her being weak. This was her reduced to a trembling, blubbering mess, too scared to do anything but cling to Rhys like a child for comfort. How did that make her brave?

"I know it doesn't feel that way right now, but it does get easier," Rhys promised her softly.

She wanted to believe him, she really did. But right now, it was hard. The fear felt so overwhelming, so all-consuming, that it was hard to imagine ever feeling anything else.

Eira took a deep, shaky breath, her body trembling as she tried to control her emotions. But despite her attempts to steady herself, she couldn’t seem to calm down. Her heart raced, her hands clammy, her breath coming in short, anxious gasps.

“It’s alright,” Rhys said softly, his voice reassuring. “I’m right here. You’re safe.”

The shadows fluttered around them,  brushing against her hands in a soothing caress.

Slowly, slowly, the fear that had consumed her began to ease, the frantic thumping of her heart returning to a more normal rhythm. She took a deep, shaky breath, feeling her body relax slightly in Rhys’ embrace.

"I am scared all the time," he continued softly.

Eira felt a flicker of surprise at his admission, her eyes widening slightly. She had never, ever considered that Rhys might be afraid. He was so powerful, so confident and in control...it almost seemed impossible to believe.

“But...why?” she asked, her voice small and wavering. “What could possibly scare you?”

Rhys chuckled softly at her question, a humourless sound that seemed almost bitter. “Plenty of things, little one,” he replied, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “More things than you could imagine.”

Eira frowned, her confusion growing. She had always assumed that Rhys was above fear, that he was somehow above the worries and anxieties that plagued the rest of them. To hear him admit otherwise...it was jarring, to say the least.

“What...What are you afraid of?” she asked softly, her voice so quiet she could barely hear it over the sound of her heart beating in her ears.

Rhys was silent for a moment, his expression growing more serious.

“Losing my mate,” he said quietly. “Losing my son. I'm afraid that if I don't keep them safe if I make a single mistake, it could all be taken from me.” He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he spoke. "I'm afraid that one day I'll wake up and it will all have been nothing but a dream. That it was never real.”

She had never considered that he might be scared...that he might feel the same way that she did, the same fear and uncertainty that gripped her heart with a vice-like grip.

"It's real," she promised her brother quietly. "It's real, Rhys."

Rhys smiled faintly, his expression softening slightly as he looked down at her.

"I know it is,” he said quietly. “But it doesn’t make the fear go away."

Eira felt a pang of sympathy in her chest at his words.

She knew all too well what it was like to feel the weight of fear, the way it could consume you and control you and leave you feeling helpless. And yet, to hear Rhys, the High Lord of the Night Court, a man so powerful that he could crumble mountains with a snap of his fingers...

It was almost surreal.

“How do you deal with it?” she asked quietly, her voice quivering slightly. “The...the fear. How do you make it go away?”

Rhys was silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful.

"I don’t make it go away,” he said finally. “I don’t think that’s possible. The fear is always there, lurking in the back of my mind, waiting for me to let my guard down." He paused, his gaze fixed on some point over her head. “I just…I try to keep it at bay, remind myself that it’s just a feeling, that it doesn’t have to control me. I focus on the people I love, on the things that matter."

Eira felt her heartache at his words. She knew that feeling, that constant fear that lurked in the back of your mind, waiting for a moment to strike. And yet, to hear Rhys say that he felt the same...it almost made her feel better, to know that she wasn’t alone in her fear.

"Look at the flowers growing...Look at your vegetable patch," Rhys said softly. "Feel the fabric underneath you...Look at Nyx being happy and smiling..." She looked up to see Feyre walk outside, Nyx on her hip who happily squealed as soon as he saw Eira.

Eira's heart lurched at the sight of the baby, her chest constricting with emotion.

Nyx wriggled on Feyre's hip, reaching out his tiny arms towards her, babbling happily as he recognized her. Eira couldn't help but smile, her heart melting at the sight of the baby's little face. Feyre smiled, walking closer to Eira and Rhys, with Nyx bouncing on her hip.

The baby was babbling happily, his eyes fixed on Eira as he reached out for her. "Look how happy he is to see his Aunt Ra Ra" Feyre said gently, a fond smile adorning her lovely face.

"Ra Ra!" Nyx cheered at that moment, and Feyre sat him on Eira's lap, sitting next to her.

Eira felt her heart melt as Nyx settled himself on her lap, his little body bouncing with energy.

The baby looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes, his little fingers reaching out to grab at her hair. He babbled happily, his voice high-pitched and cheerful.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close to her chest as he continued to babble and coo.

Safe, untouched. 

She was safe. Maybe one day she would believe that again. 

[poppy-metal]

i want art to be mean to me 😔😩 that’s it, that’s all i have to say 🫠😔

takes a particular kind of attitude to get art to be mean to his baby but when he is.... aurrrrr he's cold. its like when you're feeling extra bratty and you say something like "you fucking suck." or "you hate me!" like just a plain untruth, ungratefullness when he's been nothing but giving and generous to you, and you want to be rude to him? in his house? he'll just work his jaw around, look at you blank faced, and say - "okay." clipped and cold. shuts you up immediately. sends you spiraling cause he doesn't pay attention to you after that, says hes busy. does that until you break and say sorry for being mean for no reason, for hurting his feelings and lashing out.

he does look at you then but he doesn't immediately fold you into his arms like you want him to. just raises a brow. "you're sorry? i thought i fucking sucked and you hated me." you're almost in tears as you say you take it back and didn't mean it and you love him and he's the best and - he holds a hand up - silencing you immediately. "stop."

is quiet for too long, too long to sit in your anxiousness. "im so-"

"no." he tells you. cracks his knuckles, something you know he does when hes pent up or irritated or overstimulated. "you're not. you meant it - you meant to be an entitled little bitch."

cant really argue with that. you had meant it, at the time. in the heat of the moment. "im sorry now."

"are you?"

you want to stomp your foot, some irritation coming back into you. you pout. "yes! what do i have to do to make you believe me."

he tilts his head. "not having an attitude would help."

well. you look down, at a loss. despondent.

he suddenly stands up, grabs his keys from the counter, does his ritual before he has to leave for practice time on the court. unwraps a stick of gum and pops it into his mouth, shouldering his bag. the sudden mundane task in the middle of your turmoil makes you gape at him as he turns to go.

"I'll think of something." he tells you when hes at the door, toeing on his sneakers.

you blink. "what?"

he smiles for the first time since you'd lashed out, a dimple appearing in his cheek. hes so pretty it makes you breathless. and then he says, "a way for you to make it up to me."

the click of the door shutting is loud. you swallow, hoping practice goes well. if hes happy.... maybe you can just make it up to him with sex, but. if practice irritates him.... you think back on the last time you'd pissed him off, how you hadn't been able to sit proper for days afterward because your ass stung so bad.

well.

[temiizpalace]

hi!! requesting for the fight for the prefect's love event,,,, can i have leona and jade with prompt 8, with the reader choosing leona in the end? thank you!!!!

☆┊MATCHING BRACELETS?! OH HE HAS ONE TOO.. (🐬 vs. 🦁)

SUMMARY: YOU MADE A MATCHING BRACELET FOR HIM, NEARLY MELTING HIS HEART. THEN HE SEE’S YOU MADE ONE FOR HIM TOO.. WHATEVER! HE’LL PROVE HIS IS BETTER.

CHARACTERS: jade leech vs. leona kingscholar

EVENT MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: determined end couple, jealousy, jade leech is jade leech and leona kingscholar is leona kingscholar

NOTES: jade and leona beefing more often would be so funny in canon tbh. tysm for your request!

reader is g/n, reader is not specified to be yuu

˚∘☆∘˚

jade was delighted to receive such a peculiar piece of jewelry, especially one of pearls.

“like it? i saw it at sam’s and couldn’t resist.” you laugh, flashing him a grin before showing him the matching pearls on your wrists. “now we match.” his features softened at your enthusiasm, heart nearly melting at your smile. “indeed we do. the pearls are exquisite, i will cherish these.” jade smiles back, returning your excitement with his own, though a little more toned down.

you were practically illuminated by the purple lights shining down in octavinelle, enhancing your already enchanting appearance. the pearls on your wrist shimmer just as brightly as you did. such a shame they clashed with a leather bracelet on your right hand, and a lion beastman sitting in your booth.

“gotta thank leona for being able to help me pay! otherwise i could forget about it.” you chuckle, patting leona’s shoulder as he sips on his drink. “only cause ya practically begged for it.” he retorts, looking away from you. “is that so? your kindness is much appreciated, leona.” jade chuckles, maintaining his polite demeanor. though he acted oh so kind and understanding, his smile fails to meet his cold glare.

it was as obvious as black and white to jade. the way leona speaks with you, acts with you, acts with others around you, it was as plain as day. leona kingscholar was in love with you, and jade couldn’t stand the thought of it. he knew sweeping you off your feet would be a difficult task due to the fact that a beastman of all things already laid their claim onto you, but he was a stubborn man. leona’s courting rituals didn’t faze him, not in the least.

he’ll get you in the end, one way or another. jade is a very patient man.

“if that’ll be all, then i shall be off now. [MC], i hope to see you on campus. leona, please enjoy your evening.” jade slips the bracelet onto his wrists, admiring its beauty before clearing his throat and returning to work, giving you and leona a quick bow before walking off. before he left your side, he gave you a faint poke to the cheek before attending to the neighboring tables.

leona, while lazy, was also observant. he saw how jade looks at you all goo-goo eyed. disgusting. it’s like his obvious signs meant nothing to him (it didn’t). he stares at the pearls illuminating your wrists, not bothering to hide his obvious jealousy. before buying these stupid pearls, he was the one you matched with. your excitement was reared towards someone else, and he does not like it.

if anyone were to be the reason of your happiness, it should be him and his lovely leather bracelets. watching as you fidget with the bracelets on your wrists, leona leans his head onto your shoulder, shutting his eyes as he set down his now empty cup. “oh? what’s up with you?” you laugh, caressing his chin. “nothin.” he scoffs, leaning into your touch further.

“stop, you and i both know you’re lying.” you pinch leona’s cheek instead, earning scowl and a groan from the boy next to you. “quit it.” he grumbles, swatting your hand away from his face. “softie. it’s ok, you dont gotta hide it from me.” you tease, a hint of truth and sincerity hidden in your words. “tch. whatever.” he sighs, nuzzling into your neck.

“yeah, yeah, i knew it.” you grin, patting his shoulder. this is what leona wanted. having you, all your attention, just to himself. a scene almost too romantic for a certain eels own taste. jade nearly cracks the plate he held in his hands, scaring the nearby customers he just happened to serve.

“hey, jade, what’s got yer panties in a twist?” floyd asks, draping himself over his brother. “ah, it was nothing. just a simple thought was all.” he showed his brother a toothy grin, staring down at his wrist as a reminder to remain calm. he glances back at the table where you sat, seeing as leona now rested himself on your lap. he was supposedly asleep, but jade knew better.

leona opened one eye to glare at jade, a smirk tugging at his lips as your hand ran through his hair. the hand with the pearls brushed through each of the boys braids, nearly contaminating its beauty. “jade, you’re like totally overflowing that dudes glass.” floyd giggles, watching as the water dripped onto the poor customers lap.

the customer was the least of his worries, but he’s a refined gentlemen, tending to everyone’s needs. leona sticks his tongue out as jade walks by, knowing that he lost. you chose him. the eel was far too late.

A/N: rip jade and his loving fantasies (not some of my best work im sorry if this disappoints)💔💔

date published: 8/25/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[mayullla]

Quest: Farmers need help at the barn

Character(s): Harpy (Unnamed character/original work) Summary: You are an adventurer, taking up missions and quests in the guild. And this you choose to help out a monster barn, unknown to you that a certain feathered monster thought of you as his mate. Tags/Warnings: Yandere!monster, fem!reader, general yandere themes, violence (murder, etc), monster slavery, mating/courting rituals, possessive behavior, blood, human x monster romance, misunderstandings, obsessive monster

"I am so sorry! We had opened the cop for the harpies so that we could go and collect their eggs but it seems that one was sneaky enough to get out of the cage and run away!!" 

Arriving at the farm you were immediately greeted with a farmer, tall and gruff, certainly strong enough to deal with monsters yet panicked as one had escaped the pen, and with barely enough staff currently he definitely needed help.

"I am really sorry, we will pay you more for the trouble." The farmer said asking you to search for the harpy that got away. It was a monster after all and with a human village near here, you could not help but become a little concerned. 

"We also have someone else looking for the harpy right now, if needed and the harpy had placed humans in danger the guy has a bow ready to shoot." He had told you that the monster ran away to the forest and could not have gone far away as they were able to land a shot on its wing. He gave you a map and guided you to the gate of the forest, leaving just as soon.

Except you were not sure if you were really going the right way!! 

You looked at the map and frowned. You have been walking around the forest for what felt like hours now and just could not find the harpy that escaped!

Sighing as you looked at the sun still up so high you wondered if you would be stuck here searching for this monster the whole day. Really you hoped that it would end as soon as possible so that you could finally go home or maybe get a quest that won't cost you to circle the forest tens of times...

"Grrr..." You looked behind you, ready to attack whatever creature that made that sound in the forest. Yet nothing showed themselves to you as you constantly hear the growls and somehow had a mix of pain with it. Heading towards the sound as cautiously as possible you found a hidden cave and cautiously went in.

You were surprised to find a harpy in the dark dreary place. And you also noticed that one of his wings was bleeding. An arrow wound you were sure was done by a hunter and another one on its thigh.

It was easy to connect the dots somewhat, the harpy met the hunter somewhere in the forest and managed to get away but the hunter still managed to get his thigh with an arrow. He hid himself, unable to fly back to his home and also started screeching at night to ward off any predators that could have found him.

He glared at you as he dragged himself deeper into the small cave to get away from you. Screeching in hopes that you would become afraid and run away. But instead, you slowly went over to him, with a soft voice trying to calm it down. "Hey, it is fine... You will be alright."

It didn't trust you at all but after offering it a bit of food and encouraging words and with time, still cautious of you he finally let you come closer. You tried to be careful when applying ointment and bandaging up his wing and then later his thigh, one wrong move can get you clawed by the monster. 

It seemed very used to humans, you were at first sure that it would take longer to calm the harpy down but that doesn't seem the case when it looked so innocently at you after you finished bandaging it.

You knew that this was a monster. But right now rather than a wild monster it was more tamed and rather than you fearing him it feared you even more. But work is work, and this was a job that you must do. Your kindness was till this point cause rather than sending the harpy back to the farm still bleeding you prefer that the bird got bandaged up.

Less mess.

"There you go.." you whispered to the male harpy as you slowly backed away from him. He looked at the bandaged wing in wonder, examining it. He then looked at you curiously as to why you would help him.

Harpy feathers, depending on the color and quality can go for a lot of money even more if it was the whole wing itself. A lot of humans search for such monsters wanting to capture them if they were wild creatures. You knew that yourself, when you were helping the creature you knew that this particular harpy has definitely been hunted young or bred and then sold by the farm for his beautiful feathers.

You shrugged at his actions. "You are hurt." You whispered at it wondering if it would actually understand what you said while some harpies from what you heard can speak human language; this one in particular didn't seem to be able to do so much. Moments like these you thought of those books where the main character would tell the monster to run away and that this was its chance to do so but that wasn't you. You needed him back at that farm.

"Th-thank you..."

You were taken back a little when you heard the monster's voice looking up at him. "Huh...?" "T-thank you."

...You weren't able to stand his genuine yet still mildly confused eyes, choosing to look away. As you headed out of the cave not looking back, sure that the harpy would not come back to attack you. For once you felt guilty. You took a moment to collect yourself ready to get him to the farm when you heard bushes rustle. Pulling out your dagger you were ready to attack when you saw the same farmer this morning along with someone else.

"You are here! Good that we found you! The hunter here was able to land a shot on the harpy's thigh again while it was escaping from him and we followed the blood." The farmer told you, also saying something about his part in the farm work being finished, that he was able to come here and help.

You told them that the harpy they were looking for was inside the cave and that there were no other exits other than here. You told them you bandaged up the monster but it still should not be able to move much. "Thanks a bunch! You are a lifesaver." The farmer continued, "You head back to the farm, we will take care of everything here."

Looking back as they entered the cave you wondered if this counted as betrayal. You weren't sure, but rather than mulling it over you left the place.

From what you have heard the farmer and hunter were able to successfully get the harpy back to the farm. After that trip to the forest, you had a few odd jobs here and there on the farm, not a lot of dealing with the monsters as you need to be specially trained for most of those kinds of work but more so packaging the raw materials and loading them up on the carts to be shipped.

You didn't know that something started to follow you ever since that day. Eyes watching you as you move cans of milk from one side to another, or move and clean the wool shaved off from the weresheeps. Maybe if you noticed those eyes you would have done something about it, but you didn't and by the time you realized it was far too late.

It was one of those small clearings, the bell rang signaling a break for lunch. Under the tree, it shaded you away from the sun you sat to eat your sandwich that the farm provided. The sun was so hot against your skin that it made you work quite a sweat.

"Care if I join you?" The gruff voice made you jump in surprise as you looked to your side to see the same man you saw who was together with the farmer in the forest. It was the hunter you thought to yourself as you gave him a place to sit. 

"Hey, thanks for the help last time. Because of you the harpy had his guard lowered and we were able to capture him without much of a problem. That guy is a little smart for its own good." The hunter introduced himself, stating that he was also an adventurer like you but would help this farm often when they needed some hands as he was friends with the owner.

You chatted for a while, and you found out that the hunter was a married man with a daughter and a wife who was pregnant with another child. "My daughter is a pretty girl. She also wants to become an adventurer like me. I should introduce the two of you when we have the chance" The hunter joked that it would be nice that his little daughter had a lady who she could look up to.

The hunter looked excited as he also had another daughter and told you how he could not help but spoil his daughter whenever he could. He was hoping that he will have another daughter but his wife wished it would be a boy instead. The hunter, while intimidating looking, was actually more easygoing and casual.

"Oop! That is the bell." You heard the rattle of the bell notifying everyone that you guys need to head back to work. "You have been working here for a bit. How long are you staying?" The hunter asked curiously. You told him that today was your last day, that everything here was under control now. "Ahh, then it is back to the quest for you I guess. Hahah! Well. It was nice to meet ya." The hunter also stated that you guys might see each other probably on another mission or at the guild.

Getting up first, he took his leave having something to do leaving you alone under the tree again. Before getting up you quickly checked your mouth for any crumbs or food that was stuck. Grabbing your mirror from your bag you also checked your teeth. When your name was called by one of the farmers, you hurried. Getting up you shoved your compact mirror into your bag but were unable to properly close your bag being in a hurry.

You didn't see your small compact mirror fall out from your bag, hitting the grass floor as you head inside with the farmer. 

When you came back later to look for the mirror after finding out that it was not in your bag you could not find it anywhere...

More precisely it has been swatted away by a certain harpy who was watching you. Keeping the thing close to their chest, with a flush look on their face hoping that he would not be caught yet at the same time hoping he would just so that you would look at him again. But he can't at least not yet.

You finally went back home, after the last long day of working at the barn. Your pay was a little more than the contract, as the owner was generous from the booming business right now. You were ready to hit the bed and after a shower and a lovely dinner, you flopped on your bed.

Your body was relaxed, as you slowly went to dreamland when you suddenly heard a noise outside your window. Opening your eyes you moved to get ready, but you were too slow when the window opened and a black feathered monster rushed in jumping on top of you.

You struggled, but claws caught your arms preventing you from hitting anyone or even getting your dagger from your table side. "Mate!" You heard a chirp and looked up to get a good look at the thing that had you on its hold.

Your eyes widen and your body froze.

You recognize him, the harpy that you bandaged up on the first day of work at the barn. The black feathers and the awkward voice still struggle to follow human speech. Yet unlike before rather than cautious and feral, he was more ecstatic and eager to see you. Impatiently moving your arms as he wrapped his wings around you as if it was trying to hug you.

"Accept.... shiny g-gift... from mate..." His words were hesitant and slow in between chirps. But he wasn't shy, not with how shamelessly he clung to you. Cuddling so tightly as if to get the scent of him on you, rubbing his face under your neck while looking at you with hearts in his eyes when you looked down at him in surprise. "Mate likes... me!"

"What!?" You yelled in confusion, as you tried to shove him away to no avail. There was something wet on his shoulders and chest, something that you could not see properly in the darkness till your eye finally got used to the night. You were terrified.

You could not help but squeak when you saw it. The scent that you smelled from the harpy when he suddenly showed up did you finally understand what that red liquid on his face actually meant. His claws held your wrist preventing you from pushing away. The more you tried to leave the more tight his claws around you became. The heart in his eyes dimmed as he didn't understand why you were trying to push away from him.

"Why...why are you... why are you avoiding me." His voice was angry, a growl-like chirp produced as he forced you back to the bed. You didn't answer yet he followed your eyes and noticed you were looking at the blood on his cheek.

"Hunter... want to kill... me." He glared at you causing you to flinch. Looking away from him to your room, your weapons were too far away for you to grab and swat the harpy away. Regret as you didn't keep at least your dagger close to you. "Hunter... want to kill you... I.... save... you."

Your body felt as if it was growing cold as the harpy chirped in delight. His love-filled eyes back as he thought that you now understand and that you would love him back for doing the same favor for you after you saved him. 

The hunter did not want to kill you. You knew at least that much. Yet that same man was killed by the very harpy that he hunted, the one that you have helped.

“I… save you. I love… you. You love me.”

[carelessflower]

On Testing and Qualifying Magnus Lightwood-Bane's Sugar Daddy Behaviors - An Analysis

Multiple arguments have been made against the current High Warlock of Brooklyn, superficially regarding whether this gentleman's reputation as the current Consul of the Clave's sugar daddy is underappreciated or exaggerated. This study aims to dissect the argument with the support of textual evidence throughout the couple's appearances in the series

Paying for their first date

Taking care of the bill like a gentleman. From this instance, one can assume he takes his gentlemanly courting ritual very seriously, as he also reached for the meal cheques in other occassions

Conjuring and pelping to pick fine clothes for Alec

On their famous Europe vacation, it is shown Magnus has a habit of magicking tuxedoes, suits, and well-made sweaters for Alec. Now, if he could upgrade that GAP scarf to a Burberry one, it would be much appreciated

Gentleman behavior

Even though his boyfriend is supernaturally strong with biceps to bite for days and hunts bloodthirsty demons for a living, Magnus would still rather pay someone to carry the heavy luggage than his darling

Luxurious accommodation only

There has been a previously published study on the expenses for all these places here, so this article will be repeating the same key points:

one night at Istanbul Grand Suite on the Orient Express: $26,000

suite in Belmond Hotel Cipriani: $1,056

suite in Palazzo Manfredi, Rome: $729

It is understandably relatable when one pulls Alec Lightwood and wants to do everything in their power to woo him. For Magnus, it apparently includes never letting Alec stay in any place less than five stars

Letting Alec drive the Maserati

It costs around $10,860 to rent a red Maserati 3500 GT Vignale Spider for one day. Therefore, it speaks volumes to Magnus's affection for his boyfriend that Alec almost crashes them and the expensive car off a cliff is just a "tiny accident". It is also very likely he buys this type of car later, seeing his husband's fascination with them

Living together in Brooklyn

Months into the relationship Alec has already possessed a literal key to Magnus's home and proceeds to move in after weeks of getting back together. For other poor souls who are looking for a 3-bedroom brownstone in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, the rent would be estimated at around $5000 per month. For the Consul, it certainly would involve a different type of payment method

Alec's magically money-full pocket

The consul carrying energy bars in his duffle bag instead of using the 15000$ in his pocket guarantees the funniest mental images one could possibly imagine

Enchanting Izzy's whip for Alec's birthday

Knowing Alec's top wish is to keep his family safe, Magnus chooses to tip his boyfriend's sister's whip in a prized potion to help her on the battlefield. Loving someone to the point you want to protect what else they love

Assisting shadowhunter without payment

This element may prove to be the strongest supporter of Magnus's claim as THE sugar daddy of the shadowhunter chronicles universe title, seeing how he used to overcharge shadowhunter on their business (deservingly so), and now he is willing to do all kinds of crazy shenanigans without an ounce of money. Whoever's in charge of the Clave's budget better send Alec the biggest, freshest, most expensive fruit basket

Final note

In conclusion, this research paper does not provide a definitive answer to the argument but encourages readers to draw their own perspectives. Nevertheless, it is a great possibility that in his report, the consul stated he used 10-20 dollars each week while he was traveling across the world, going to Japan when he craved sushi and staying in the finest places, all thanks to his generous husband

tag list: @magnus-the-maqnificent @literallytypogod @hoezier-than-thou @sociallyineptbibliophile @queenlilith43

@khaleesiofalicante @wandererbyheart @raziyekroos @onetimetwotimesthreetimess @alexandergideonslightwood @andrwminward

@noah-herondale-lightwood @elettralightwood @dustandducks @deliciousdetectivestranger @delightfullyterrible

@letsgofortacos

@kita-no @thelightofthebane @secrettryst @goldendreams3 @cityofdownwardspirals

@stupidfuckindinosaur

@i-have-not-slept @rinadragomir @potato-jem @kasper-tag @cam-ryt

@banesapothecary

[makoodles]

ミ tìtunu

part one | part two | part three (nsfw) | part four (nsfw

🍓pairing: tsu'tey x human fem reader

🍓word count: 9k words (oops)

🍓warnings: alien courting rituals, misunderstandings, accidental sexy touching

yoooo i was not expecting people to like this ahhahahaha but thank you all so much for all your lovely excited comments! they've been so fun to read and honestly pushed me into writing this faster! pls forgive me if i forgot to tag you (i tried to include everyone that asked) 🍓 masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

Tsu’tey is beginning to wonder if he had received some irreparable damage to his head in the fall from the sky that had nearly killed him all those months ago. It’s the only explanation for what’s gone so terribly wrong with him.

After his failed first attempt at courting, you don’t come back to the village for a few days. It’s probably a good thing, Tsu’tey tries to convince himself; he needs to decide what it is he truly wants, and how far he’s willing to go to get it. But even though he tries to use the time to himself productively, he finds himself on edge and impatient.

His foul mood is clear to the whole village to see, and so it’s only a matter of time before someone confronts him about it. 

It’s just his luck that the person who approaches him about it is Jakesully.

“So,” The new Olo’eyktan drawls as he sidles up to where Tsu’tey is watching a group of young warriors training with their longbows, “Word has it that you’ve chosen a mate.”

They may be brothers in arms and tentative friends, but that doesn’t mean that Tsu’tey is pleased to have him poking around his business. His ears flatten back in a wordless warning to back off, but Jakesully pays no heed to it.

The bastard is grinning, as though this is the most entertained he’s been in weeks. “Word has it that your chosen mate is human.”

“Do not speak on matters you do not understand.” Tsu’tey bares his teeth in a move that is bold at best, considering he is speaking to his clan chief.

But Jakesully just laughs, his stupid shoulders straightening. He has become so confident since becoming one of the people, and Tsu’tey envies him for it. He was sure of himself just like Jakesully once, but now it seems like all he does is doubt himself.

“Relax, brother.” Jakesully says casually, leaning on one leg as he follows Tsu’tey’s gaze out towards the young warriors. “You are too tense. How could she want someone so grumpy?”

Tsu’tey turns to him then, his tail coiled in a tense loop as he glares. “She is a demon.”

Jakesully just rolls his eyes. It's a gesture so human that it’s almost jarring. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that he is alien, just like you.

“Everyone sees the way you look at her.” Jakesully says, raising a brow at him. “It’s a different kind of scowl than you give everyone else.”

Tsu’tey doesn’t think that he scowls that much. He tries to force the frown off his face as he turns to look at Jakesully head on.

“It does not matter what you think you see,” He bites out, frustrated and on-edge with embarrassment. “She is tawtute. Sky demon. She does not see, cannot connect with the People or with Eywa.”

Jakesully is nodding, but he still has that infuriating smirk curling around his mouth that suggests he understands Tsu’tey’s feelings better than Tsu’tey himself does.

“That hasn’t stopped you so far, has it?” He points out with a faux-innocent tone that is utterly unconvincing. “I mean, you certainly seem happier to show her around and explain things to her than you ever were with me.”

“That is because she listens, Jakesully.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jakesully waves this away as if it’s inconsequential, before his expression shifts. 

The next look he levels at Tsu’tey is uncomfortably sober. 

“Look. I know that you’ve been having a hard time since...” He trails off, and his eyes dart down towards the harsh, ugly scars that cover Tsu’tey’s torso from where the brutal human weapons called bullets had nearly torn him apart. “Look, who cares what anyone else thinks? The People are still wary of the humans left over, but they’re looking to you as an example on how they should act. You could set a precedent here.”

Tsu’tey clenches his jaw as he stares out at the warriors. Instead of answering, he shouts out to one of the younglings near the edge of their makeshift firing range. “Netu’li, keep your elbows up.”

Netu’li fixes his posture, and the next arrow he looses hits home in a perfect bullseye. Tsu’tey nods in satisfaction.

Jakesully is still staring at the side of his face, and Tsu’tey realises that there is no way for him to escape this conversation. He takes a breath, and tries to ignore the resentful embarrassment coiling in his belly.

“She did not accept my advances.” He mutters, his ears flattened against his skull.

Irritatingly, Jakesully doesn’t seem bothered by this in the slightest. 

“Oh yeah?” He drawls. “Hm. Well, I never thought you’d give up so easily. I’m surprised.”

Tsu’tey flicks a quick glance his way. What a ridiculous, painfully transparent attempt at goading him into admitting the interest he’s been trying to deny. The worst part is that it might actually be working.

“I did not say I was giving up.” Tsu’tey says sharply, well aware that he’s playing right into Jakesully’s hands right now. “I am just… I am thinking.”

Jakesully raises his stupid eyebrows, but Tsu’tey is studiously avoiding looking at him now. This whole situation was mortifying enough when it was all going unsaid; now that it’s being discussed, Tsu’tey feels like climbing inside of a yomioang plant and never coming out. 

“Well,” Jakesully sounds smug, which should be a warning in itself, “You’d better do some thinking quickly, because I believe that’s her coming now.”

Tsu’tey straightens quickly, and tosses a look over his shoulder. Sure enough, your familiar figure is standing awkwardly by the treeline. It seems as though you’re reluctant to step further into the village; you’re fidgeting with your fingers, eyes darting around until they finally find him.

Something in his lower belly leaps, and he finds himself taking a sharp inhale through his nose at the sight of you. It’s been days since he’s last seen you, and he had been beginning to wonder if you would ever seek him out again. The sight of you here is a ridiculous sort of relief, one that he doesn’t even want to fully think about. Even better is the fact that you look alright, you look healthy. It doesn’t seem as though he’s done lasting damage to you with the meat.

You smile at him, and even from across the village he feels his heart thump against his ribcage. Perhaps you don’t hate him after all.

Aware of your eyes on him, Tsu’tey hefts his longbow from his back and shoots an arrow. It flies straight through the target, and hits it with a heavy, satisfying thump.

Jakesully just laughs. “Wow. Impressive.”

“Be silent.” Tsu’tey grumbles, his tail coiled tightly around his leg. He is anxious in a way that is entirely unbefitting of a warrior, and he resents you for being the cause of it. “I do not wish to speak to her.”

“Oh, come on!” Jakesully tilts his head back, shaking his head as though Tsu’tey is nothing but a child. “I thought we just talked through this!”

Tsu’tey ignores him. He can feel your gaze on his back like a weight, and though he stands straight and tall he cannot bring himself to turn around and meet your eyes. It’s all too much – even from across the camp your presence needles at him, and he hasn’t even decided on what he’s going to do just yet.

Jakesully’s eyes on the side of Tsu’tey’s face don’t help very much either. “Where’s all your confidence from the other night gone, when you practically declared what you wanted in front of the whole clan?”

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes restlessly. That had been a moment of pure madness. “It was rash of me.”

Jakesully just makes a face. “Whatever. Look, if the People could accept a skxawng like me as Olo’eyktan, why wouldn’t they accept your interest in a human mate? They respect you; they’ll respect your choices.”

It’s a reasonable point, but Tsu’tey remains stubbornly silent. It rankles, the way that Jakesully is trying to insert himself into his business. Tsu’tey’s thoughts and feelings about you are confused and conflicted, but they’re private. The way Jakesully speaks about you as though he knows you makes Tsu’tey’s skin prickle.

“I must think on it.” Tsu’tey says at last. It’s a weak response, but he just wants to buy himself some time.

Perhaps Jakesully is right. Tsu’tey has always been strong-willed and stubborn, and has always known exactly what he wanted. Now though, he's floundering. Now he doesn’t know what he wants, and he’s casting about desperately in the hopes that someone will advise him on what to do. After having his life and expectations so soundly upended, he just wants to make his clan proud. He wants their approval, but Jakesully is right – when has he ever given up on anything just because it posed a challenge?

“Fine.” Jakesully says, jarring Tsu’tey from his thoughts. He had nearly forgotten the Olo’eyktan was still there, and it’s unnerving to realise that he’s being watched with a smug sort of smirk. “I’ll keep her company for today, then. Considering you need your space.”

Tsu’tey’s jaw clenches hard but he does not protest. He can’t, not after making such a big deal out of not wishing to speak to you today. His pride is hurt, and all he can do is double-down on his position. Besides, Jakesully is mated to Neytiri, and Tsu’tey knows that he would rather die than stray from her.

That doesn’t stop him from turning his head as Jakesully leaves his side, watching with sharp eyes as the Olo’eyktan approaches you. Even from this distance, he can see the little smile on your face through your mask as you tilt your head up towards him. The sight of it causes something to curdle in his low belly. 

That should be him on the receiving end of your sweet little smile. It’s a selfish thought, but one that he can’t quite shake off. The sense of possessiveness surprises even him, and he watches with narrowed eyes as Jakesully leans down to say something to you.

When Jakesully’s stupid five-fingered hand touches upon your shoulder to lead you away to somewhere else within the camp, Tsu’tey feels his tail whip around his ankles in aggravation. 

I will try again, He thinks wildly as he turns back around to stare unseeingly at the practicing warriors in front of him. And this time I will not fail to impress.

Now that Tsu’tey has reached the decision to court you (officially), there is much to be prepared. He has never been one to take half-measures, and initiating a courtship is certainly no exception. You may not be Na’vi, but he will court you with all the respect and courtesy as he would if you were one of the People. 

Part of him wonders if his decision is written across his face somehow, because the People of the village seem to know. When he begins searching for materials to make an official courting gift for you, he begins getting help from unexpected places. 

Some of the children have started leaving pieces of twine and plant fibre in his treehut, and he is pleased to find that it is of good enough quality to begin weaving immediately. The old woman, A’nayla, who is the best at carving beads in the whole village, slaps his hands away impatiently when he attempts to pick out a number of beads for your gift. She directs him instead to some of her shiniest and most vibrant beads, and refuses to make any trades. A gift, she had insisted, her old face crinkling in a knowing smile as she had waved him away.

He feels supported, even more so when Neytiri visits him in his treehut one evening after dinner. It has been a few days since you visited the encampment, but Tsu’tey is determined to have everything in good order before he approaches you in earnest. 

When Neytiri enters the small hut he had built in the trees when they first settled in this encampment, she takes a moment to peer around with a neutral expression.

Tsu’tey has been sitting on the woven mat in the middle of the room, but he looks up and waits for his old friend to speak.

“My Jake has told me about your intentions with the tawtute.” She says after a long moment, stepping forward and sinking down to sit in front of him with her legs crossed. “Many people speak of it in the village.”

Tsu’tey’s ear twitches at that, embarrassed, but he just focuses back on his weaving. There’s no point denying it; he does not plan on hiding it for much longer, anyway.

“Yes.” He says simply. “My first attempt was… not successful.”

Neytiri hums. He thinks he can hear an undercurrent of amusement. “Yes. I saw.”

His ears flatten in earnest at that. He had hoped that no one had witnessed that particular humiliation, but that’s no matter. People will soon forget, and he will soon have you distracted with his second (and surely more successful) attempt. 

Her eyes fall on the half-finished woven piece in his hands, and she eyes it carefully. “That is too big. She is small, remember.”

“Of course I remember.” He snaps, before raising the half-finished jewelry to his face and squinting at it. “You think it will not fit?”

“Give me.” Neytiri demands, and stretches out her hand. 

Tsu’tey passes it without complaint. They have known each other since birth, certainly long enough to forgo any passing formalities and niceties. He trusts Neytiri with his life, his best-friend and once-potential-mate, and he finds himself waiting with his tail curled protectively beside him as he awaits her judgment; not only on his half-finished gift, but also on his choice of a mate.

“This decision I have made,” He says suddenly. “To court the sky demon. It is madness, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Neytiri speaks with hardly a hesitation, though she doesn’t raise her eyes from his weaving. She starts picking out a loop where he had made a mistake, and begins reweaving it with deft fingers. “But I will not be the one to judge you for that.”

“And Mo’at?”

“She thinks you are a skxawng.” Neytiri says easily, “But she loves you like a son.” The next look she darts at him is quick and sharp out of the corner of her eye. “Out of everyone in the village, your heart was the most firmly closed against the Sky People. Does that not make it all the more meaningful, that you have chosen a sky person as your mate?”

Tsu’tey is silent. He used to think that he knew exactly how his life was going to work out; he would be Olo’eyktan, he would mate with his first love Sylwanin, they would be happy and prosperous and strong together. But that future evaporated like mist before his eyes; not all at once, but gradually, until he could barely see the vapours. His reality is very different now; he clings almost desperately to the idea of you. There have been many people that Tsu’tey has not been strong enough to protect, but you are so small and soft – you need protecting more than anyone he’s ever known, and he’s determined not to let you down.

“She will accept,” Tsu’tey murmurs, before casting an uncertain glance in Neytiri’s direction. “Do you think so?”

“I see her look at you.” Neytiri murmurs back, her mouth curving. “She will accept.”

That brings a rush of relief so sudden and unexpected that Tsu’tey feels it like a physical blow. He keeps his head bowed in the hopes that it will not be so obvious, and hums absently as though he’s only half listening. It’s not enough to convince Neytiri, but he hopes that it works to recoup at least some of his pride.

“You have redecorated.” Neytiri comments, though her eyes stay focused on fixing the small section of the necklace that Tsu’tey had messed up. “Your kelku is inviting.”

That pleases Tsu’tey, and he sits up straighter. Decorating has never been a strong suit of his, and it presented more of a challenge than he had initially anticipated to decorate in such a way that it would appeal to a human. He knows you are very interested in the plants of his planet, considering the amount of time you spend studying them, so he has effectively cushioned the rough wooden walls and floors with softer wide leaves. From the ceiling hangs intense blue eanean flowers and hippophae leaves, lending a soft phosphorescent glow to the small space.

“Humans are weak,” Tsu’tey grunts. “Soft bones, fragile skin. She needs soft surroundings, too.”

Neytiri hums her agreement, before finally lifting her head. In her hands, the knot in the half-finished necklace has been unpicked and resolved. She hands it back, and Tsu’tey takes it cautiously into his hands before peering carefully at her work. Her hands are far more practiced in the art of weaving than his; she has done a wonderful job.

“Thank you.” He says quietly. He is appreciative on several levels; for her weaving, for her company, for her support.

She seems to pick up on what he isn’t saying, as usual. “You should approach her again soon. My Jake says that she is sad – she thinks she has upset you, and that you are angry with her.”

Tsu’tey raises his head sharply at that. He’s not sure if he’s more displeased at the idea that you are upset or the fact that you have apparently been confiding in Jakesully. It is difficult to push past the feeling that you should be confiding in him, that he should be the person offering you comfort. But how could you approach him when he was part of the problem?

“I will find her tomorrow.” He decides. The thought of him losing his chance is sickening – he can’t afford to wait until everything is perfectly prepared. He will just have to do his best with what he’s got so far.

Neytiri grins at him, her lips peeling back of her teeth in a way that is both joyful and intimidating.

“Sìltsan tìtaron.” She says, and Tsu’tey finds himself grinning back without conscious thought.

It is a customary saying in their tribe, used for both chasing prey and courting mates. Good hunting.

When the next day dawns, Tsu’tey curses himself for feeling nervous.

The last time he felt this way was the night before his iknimaya, when he was a fledgling warrior. Even then, he was so confident, his ego inflated by the simple fact that he had never experienced a loss before. 

This time is different. He finds himself anxious in a way that he is utterly unused to experiencing, and it makes him bare his teeth in frustration as he bounds down from his treehut into the village properly. It is already a hive of activity, and the familiar buzz of conversation and laughter eases some of the tension out of his shoulders. 

He will take this slow, he’s already decided. Slow and careful. 

The thought of you refusing him is something that he can’t bring himself to consider; he needs to show you that he is strong, that he is thoughtful and caring, that he can provide for you and keep you safe and make you happy. He has to convince you that there is no one who can care for you better than he can. 

Finding you is easy enough; the human scientists that have remained on the planet follow a routine, and you are no different. Besides, as some of the children in the village tell him, you have been lingering close to the village for days now. Ostensibly you are studying the plantlife, but Tsu’tey knows that you have likely been waiting to catch a glimpse of him. The realisation has a hollow feeling of guilt gnawing at his stomach, but he tries to push it aside – he will apologise soon.

He finds you in the forest, only a little while outside of the village. You are not alone; as is standard procedure, you are accompanied by three other scientists and a dreamwalker. 

Norm is as awkward as ever in his Avatar state, discussing whatever he is reading from his demon technology with wide eager eyes. Tsu’tey is familiar with Norm now, mostly against his will – Jakesully is fond of the scientist, and he has been invited to take part in village life on several occasions. Tsu’tey will begrudgingly admit that the dreamwalker is respectful of Na’vi life and culture and he has come to accept his presence both on his planet and around his people, but seeing him around you is making him fidgety.

One of the scientists is armed (and the sight of the gun makes his skin itch from the memory of bullets tearing flesh) and Norm is at least Na’vi-sized, but that is the extent of the protection they have brought. Tsu’tey’s fingers twitch. It is not enough. You are so small and fragile, entirely unsuited for his world. Don’t you know that? Don’t you know how dangerous it is to be out here like this with so little to protect you?

You’re so preoccupied with the helicoradian you’re studying that you don’t seem to notice anything else around you. Your head is bowed, your eyes bright and shiny with interest as you inspect the orange pigment dusting the leaves. 

The dappled light that filters through the trees casts shadowy patterns across your face in a way that is nearly mesmerising, and he ends up staring at you for a longer moment than he had originally intended. You are strange-looking and alien to him, and yet his fingers itch with the desire to touch you.

Tsu’tey leaps from the branch he had been watching you from, and lands neatly on the balls of his feet. His movements are nearly soundless, and none of the humans raise their heads. They don’t seem to sense his appearance at all.

His brow furrows in dissatisfaction. Anything could creep up on you, and you would not see it coming until it was too late.

He reaches out one leg and steps purposely on a twig. The snap is resounding, and the man with the gun whirls around and hoists the weapon higher, aiming at Tsu’tey’s chest.

He just bares his teeth in warning.

“No!” You yelp, throwing your hands up as soon as you realise what’s happening. “Don’t shoot him!”

Despite the situation, he’s sure that he looks quite smug. It feels good to experience you standing up for him, even if he doesn’t really need it – he could knock this puny little gun-toting tawtute into the dirt with a single backhand if he wished, though he refrains. He’s trying to be on his best behaviour.

“Fuck!” The little man yells, clearly spooked. “What does he want?”

That makes you falter, and you look up at him with uncertainty. It seems like you’re waiting for an explanation as well. All of the scientists are silent are apprehensive, eyeing him cautiously as they wait to see what he’s going to do. Their eyes linger around the knife strapped to his waist and the longbow strung over his shoulders.

Norm is looking at him with raised eyebrows, his ears perked up. Judging by his expression, Tsu’tey assumes that Norm has guessed exactly what he’s doing here.

“I wish to speak with you,” He tells you in Na’vi – he knows that some of the other scientists will be able to interpret his words, but it brings an illusion of privacy all the same.

You blink, but hesitate. When you don’t agree immediately, Tsu’tey feels his ears pin back. Your uncertainty is surely a bad sign for him – has he misjudged how upset you were?

He turns to the other humans and narrows his eyes at them. “Leave.”

They burst into motion satisfyingly quickly. The moron with the gun looks as though he is about to start arguing, but Norm hooks the long fingers of his demon body into the back of his collar and tugs him away. For once, the scientist is not being a nuisance.

You’re still standing there, turning to stare in apparent bewilderment at your comrades, who are practically fleeing. “What-”

“Come.” Tsu’tey says. Now that it’s just the two of you, he loses some of the edge in his voice.

 When he turns away and begins to lead you into the forest, you follow after him without complaint. Out of the corner of his eye, Tsu’tey can see you twisting your hands nervously. Your clear anxiety has him frowning – he wants you to be comfortable with him, not on edge.

Once he’s determined that you’re both far enough away from the other humans that they could not hear you, he turns to you. You’re already looking at him, fingers twisting as you bite at your lip.

 Calm and steady, Tsu’tey thinks to himself. Just apologise for ignoring her.

Apologising does not come easy to him, but he rolls his shoulder and takes a breath before opening his mouth.

“I’m sorry!” You blurt before he can make even a sound.

That throws him, and he ends up staring at you with his mouth ajar for a long moment like an absolute moron. Why are you apologising? This isn’t how this was supposed to go.

“I didn’t mean to get sick,” You continue, a little desperately, “I really did appreciate your hunting, it was very impressive and the meat was very nice, I swear I didn’t mean to come across as ungrateful-”

Oh no, are those tears he sees shining in your eyes? 

Tsu’tey feels as though he’s been frozen in place. He knows that his face is stuck in a confused scowl, but he can’t soften his expression no matter how hard he tries. Panic starts to curdle in his stomach. He may be a seasoned warrior, fearless in the face of fearsome opponents, but he finds himself at a total loss in this situation.

You just keep going – his silence seems to be making you even more upset. “I never meant to offend you, and I’m so, so sorry if I have. I never meant to make you angry-”

Finally, Tsu’tey manages to find his voice. “I am not angry.”

Even he has to admit that he doesn’t sound particularly convincing, but he’s never been an eloquent person. How does he explain that he’s not angry at you, he’s frustrated with himself? Right now, with you staring up at him with your eyelashes all wet and clumped together as your lower lip trembles, he feels like kicking his own ass.

He needs to make his move now, he realises wildly. Be conciliatory, he thinks. Let her know you are interested.

His voice sticks in his throat, but he manages to push the words out. They come out slightly strangled, but semi-confident all the same.

“Would you like to come fishing?”

You hesitate, and Tsu’tey feels his heart seize in his chest – you’re not going to turn him down, are you?

“Would I-” You begin, face crumpling. “What?”

Despite all the similarities in your bodies and faces, Tsu’tey finds himself floundering when it comes to reading your expressions. Is that disappointment? Confusion? Anger? It’s so difficult to tell with your tiny blunt ears and lack of a tail.

“Fishing.” He repeats. His own tail lashes restlessly, the only part of his body that moves at all. “Come and watch me fish.”

It doesn’t come out quite as smoothly as he had planned in his head the night before, sounding a little more like an order than an invitation, but Tsu’tey thinks it’s a victory just to get the words out at all.

You look a little lost, but you nod all the same. Your tears are blinked away, your expression smoothing a little. Is Tsu’tey imagining it, or do you look hopeful?

“I- alright.” You swallow, and your hands reach up to tug at your hair in what appears to be a compulsive sort of movement. “Yes. Fishing. Right.”

Tsu’tey barely stifles his reaction. A success. He can’t stop his ears from pricking up, but otherwise he tries to appear neutral – he doesn’t want to scare you off. 

“Come then.”

Just like before, you follow him readily through the jungle. He is careful to keep his back to you – it is a display of trust, to show off his conviction that you will do him no harm. It is mostly symbolic in your case, considering that you are unlikely to cause him any real harm even if you wanted to, but he is determined to carry out these courting rituals correctly even if the rest of this courtship is unconventional. 

His ears are pricked the whole time for signs of danger or any other signs of life approaching, and to ensure that you are close behind as the two of you make your way towards the river winding towards the Omaticaya stronghold.

“You don’t have a fishing rod.” You say when you both finally reach the river.

Tsu’tey has no idea what you’re talking about, but it sounds as though you’re doubting his ability to fish. 

He frowns, turning to squint at you – is this a challenge? Do you require him to prove his prowess right away? Displays of physical prowess and skill are part of the courting process, but he had thought that he had already done that with the hunt you had witnessed. But then again, the meat from the prey of that particular hunt had made you sick – perhaps you had decided not to count that hunt as an official courting display. 

You stare back at him, looking perfectly innocent, if a little confused.

Fine. Tsu’tey straightens his back, and pulls his bow from his back. If it’s a display of prowess that you want, that’s what you’ll get.

In one smooth movement, he draws, nocks, and looses an arrow. It lands true, hitting home in the sleek, smooth body of a large fish that has just darted out from behind a stone lodged in the riverbank. 

You let out a startled sort of sound, but lean forward quickly as Tsu’tey strides into the water and reaches for his catch. He had been planning on drawing this fishing display out a little longer, but it seems that you’re a demanding little thing. He doesn’t mind that; if anything, it will make satisfying you all the more exciting.

He retrieves his catch and holds it up for you to see. The fish is a large one, and it glints in the sweet sunshine that streams through the canopy of trees above you. It is a catch to be proud of, but he is careful not to be too pleased with himself until you react.

You laugh at the sight of the smooth glinting silver surface of his catch, clapping your hands together.

“Oh!” You call out, and you sound delighted. “Amazing! You make it look so easy!”

The praise sends a pleasant warmth effusing through his chest, and he feels a slow, hesitant grin begin to spread across his face.

“I am good at providing.” He tells you earnestly, stepping forward. He snaps off the long shaft of the arrow before proffering the fish towards you for your inspection.

You glance down, still smiling, but you don’t look particularly closely at his catch. That dulls some of his satisfaction – he glances down at the fish himself, wondering if there was something about it you found lacking.

“I know.” You murmur, tilting your head as you gaze up at him with lidded eyes. “You’re strong.”

His ears twitch like a child’s, and he nods, pleased. Hearing those words coming from the person he has chosen as a prospective mate fills him with a type of excitement that he has never experienced before. As a tawtute, you cannot connect with Eywa or with the People; but in this moment, Tsu’tey feels as though you see him anyway. 

He swallows, and sets his catch aside in the pouch at his waist. He feels flustered in a way that is entirely unlike him, and he has to push his reactions down deep. He doesn’t want you to think of him as a silly little youngling – he wants you to see that he has taken this decision to court you seriously.

Time for the next step.

“We are close to an area where the Tsahìk gathers her herbs for medicine,” He says, clearing his throat as he turns to look at you with wide, earnest eyes. “I have offered to collect some for her. Would you like to help?”

Plants have always fascinated you – he knows that the original reason that you came to his planet was to study the wildlife and the flora. He waits, hoping that he’s right in thinking that this is something you will enjoy.

Your strange, sweet little face brightens. “Really?”

Tsu’tey nods, relieved by your reaction. “You would like this?”

“Yes!” You breathe. For the first time since he had approached you, you relax in earnest and Tsu’tey finds himself mirroring you. 

He reaches out and cups your elbow as he helps you step over a log, and he doesn’t miss the little shiver and quick glance that you send towards his hand where it’s wrapped around your arm. It seems like you’re just as taken with the size difference between you as he is, and his lips begin to curl in excitement at the realisation. 

This is good, He thinks, biting at the inside of his cheek. He is very slow to remove his hand, and you make no move to shake him off. Very good.

Tsu’tey does not want to speak too soon, but he feels as though his courting attempts are going very well indeed.

You had loved gathering the medicinal herbs with him, even more than he had hoped – you had badgered him with questions, curious about the names of the plants and their properties and their appearances, and you had bounded along at his side with a bright grin the whole time. It had pleased him greatly to experience your interest in the ways of the Omaticaya and the life of his planet; it was proof that you could be taught, that you were willing to learn.

And most thrillingly of all, you were receptive to his advances. Over the next couple of days, he continues with his cautious attempts at approaching you with little gestures.

When he gives you flowers and pretty leaves, you take them with brilliant, near-blinding smiles. Every time he shows off by flexing or practicing wrestling with the other warriors, you watch with interested eyes and tiny smiles. Whenever he tentatively touches you, small brushes to your shoulders or hands or waist, you never flinch away – on several occasions, you lean into him. 

He tries not to let it go to his head, but it’s difficult. Since he’s started to admit his urges and his attraction to you, he swears it’s gotten worse. It feels like all he thinks about is you. He’s distracted during training, during his duties, during meals. He thinks about your reactions to his offerings, to your smiles, your scent, your voice. It really does feel like an illness, but it’s one he’s beginning to come to terms with if it means having you close by.

It’s beginning to get more difficult to keep his hands to himself. Traditionally, at this point in a courtship it would be acceptable for a courting pair to exchange flirtatious touches and other little intimacies, but Tsu’tey is aware that this is not exactly a conventional courtship. 

He’s trying to be careful, to avoid spooking you or making you uncomfortable or uneasy, but it’s beginning to wear on him. Though he’s getting bolder with his little touches, it’s not enough to quench the skin-hunger growing in him.

But no matter. The courtship is going well, and moving at a good pace. The next step is one of the most important ones. 

His carefully woven courtship necklace has been completed. It is customary to present a potential mate with a statement piece of jewelry, and Tsu’tey has spent several late nights fussing over the finishing touches. He recognises on some level that he’s stalling; it’s not in his nature to be nervous, but he’s beginning to grow nearly obsessive about getting the necklace as perfect as possible. It has been crafted to fit you exactly, with fibres and beads selected by him personally based on what he thinks you would like and what he thinks would suit your features. 

The finished product is eye-catching, and Tsu’tey feels nearly delirious at the thought of it decorating your neck. 

He crushes any semblance of nerves as best as he can, just like he might have done before a big hunt.

Of course you will accept his mating advances. Why wouldn't you? He is a strong warrior, a protector, desired by a great number of women. He could likely pick any woman he wanted out of the available women in the clan, and they would be honoured. Why would you be any different? You may be difficult to read at times, but he has laid his intentions out loud and clear and you have not shied away. You would accept him. 

His mating necklace for you feels like it’s weighing him down as he steps through the village. It’s tucked safely into the pouch at his waist, though his hand keeps drifting to his hip to check that it’s still there. He’s not unaware of the looks he gets as he makes his way towards the edge of the encampment, but he ignores them. No doubt many of his people have guessed at what he’s up to, but he can’t give them his attention right now; he’s too focused on you, now that he spots you sitting next to one of the large pxiut trees.

Your head is bowed over your silly little notebook, lost entirely in your own world. Tsu’tey’s steps slow as he approaches you, taking the opportunity to drink in the sight of you while you’re unaware of his gaze.

His eyes track over the curves of your strange features, the slope of your alien nose, the arch of your neck. Your features may be exotic, but he’s finally beginning to admit to himself what he’s been trying to deny for a while now – you’re attractive to him.

He likes your weird little face, your odd five-fingered hands, your thick silly accent when you speak his language. He likes that you are so much smaller than him, he likes that you are soft. 

He appreciates that you are patient with him, too. He knows he can be gruff and surly, and most people find him off-putting or intimidating, especially when they don’t know him. But you – you’re so calm and sweet, and you never seem to care when he’s stoically silent beside you. Most of the time when he’s around you, most of his brain-power goes into trying to keep his hands to himself, and he doesn’t have much intellectual power left to attempt conversation. He’s content with simply listening to you about whatever it is you wish to talk about, occasionally chiming in to ask a question or just to hum gently to show you he’s listening.

As he watches, you shift where you’re sitting and reach up to scratch absently at your neck. Beneath your odd human garments, your skin is glowing lightly with a thin sheen of sweat. Tsu’tey finds his eyes tracking over your exposed skin like a moron, and he clenches his jaw as he pulls himself together.

You're a warrior, you're a warrior, you’re a warrior, he chants in his head. He would not be cowed or intimidated by a tiny human.

You raise your head as he approaches, and a smile unfolds across your face. Your expression is bright, full of pure innocent happiness just to see him. He wavers, and nearly turns right back around.

“Hey, big guy.” You call out, setting your notebook aside as you beam at him. 

You’re waiting for him to join you, he realises. He jolts forward, his previously confident stride turning a little jerky under your sharp eyes.

“Hello, little demon.” He murmurs, keeping his voice low and level.

You bite at your lip, still watching him with that little smile on your face. He watches you back just as closely, even as he sinks down to sit next with you. Your smile melts into a little look of surprise; usually, when he comes to you it’s so he can invite you somewhere else, either to show you something or to give you something. Joining you as you just sit is new for both of you.

For a moment, you’re both quiet. It seems like you’re waiting on him to speak, but he stays silent. He’s trying to compose himself, to appear cool and calm as he reaches his hand towards the woven bag slung around his waist.

Finally, he says, “I have something for you.”

It comes out impressively calm and level. While he’s not a man prone to nerves or to doubting himself, this is entirely new territory for him. When your expression brightens into a look of excitement, he feels a new little seed of confidence build in his chest. You’re anticipating his gift, you want it. 

When he slips his hand into his bag, you sit up onto your knees so that you can watch him. Over the last few weeks, you’ve gotten used to receiving little flowers, plants, beads, or little carved figures. You accept each one with your usual brilliant, sweet smile; the thought of how you may smile at him when he gives you the necklace makes Tsu’tey’s tail flick eagerly.

He pulls it carefully out and hands it to you. As you take it your fingers brush his, and he twitches slightly as he stares at how small your hands are next to his.

“Oh,” You breathe, lifting up the necklace to eye level so you can get a good look at it. “I… Really? For me?”

“Yes.” He says simply, his eyes sharp and alert as they drink in every minute flicker that crosses your face. What are you thinking? 

“It…” You begin, and then pause. Tsu’tey is just beginning to feel like crawling out of his skin when you slowly continue. “Tsu’tey, it’s beautiful.”

You so rarely say his name, choosing instead to call him variations of big guy, and he feels a near physical jolt run down his spine at the sound of it in your mouth. He wants to hear you say it again.

He just hums, still watching your face. You are examining the necklace intently, fingering the beads and the weavework, and he feels his pride inflate the longer you inspect his work. You are giving real, earnest thought to his offering rather than simply making your decision rashly. He respects this, and revels under the careful consideration you’re giving his proposal. 

“You like it?” He murmurs. His voice comes out rougher than he had intended, and you jerk your head up to look at him.

Like this, your faces are very close together. Tsu’tey had leaned closer unconsciously as you were examining the necklace, and he makes no attempt to back off. Likewise, you make no attempt to retreat either, blinking up at him from behind the odd clear surface of your bubble-like mask.

“Yes,” You whisper, a shy, cautious smile beginning to bloom across your face. “Did you make this yourself?”

Tsu’tey just huffs. What sort of fool wouldn’t make their mating offering themselves?

 “Of course.”

“Oh.” You bite at your lip. You seem to be trying to suppress your smile, though he can’t imagine why. He wants to see it, now more than ever.

You are certainly not racing to give him an answer. Your fingers trace over the beads, taking your time to admire the craftsmanship. Your obvious appreciation is certainly inflating his ego, but the longer you go without giving him a firm answer, the more agitated he gets. He hides it as best as he can, aiming to appear cool and unflappable. He is a warrior – he doesn’t want you to think of him as someone who is easily ruffled.

When you finally turn to look up at him, your eyes are shining. He can’t help but sit up a little straighter, watching you very carefully as he awaits your decision.

You proffer the necklace back to him, and Tsu’tey feels his stomach positively plummet. He truly hadn’t considered what he would do if you refused him.

“Will you help me put it on?” You ask, a little shyly.

The relief nearly bowls him over. Tsu’tey swears his stomach jolts so violently that he nearly makes a truly undignified sound. You are not refusing him – you wish for assistance. 

“Yes.” He says lowly and seriously, taking the necklace back. 

You beam again, then turn your back to him and bow your head to give him access to your neck. Tsu’tey’s heart thumps dully in his chest at the display of trust and vulnerability, though he keeps his face carefully still.

As he reaches out and slips the necklace around your neck, he gives in to his weakness and allows his fingers to drift over your shoulder. Your skin is so soft, your frame lacking the lean hard musculature that is so common among his own people, and he allows himself a moment to admire the feeling of you beneath his hands before finally beginning to tie the two ends of the necklace together.

He can feel you breathing carefully beneath his hands, the steady rise and fall of your chest matching the thumping rhythm of his own heart. The blood is rushing through his ears as his knuckles brush over one of the knobs of your spine at the base of your neck and you shiver in response.  

Success, his instincts are screaming at him. Success.

When he finally pulls his hands back, you turn to look at him through your eyelashes behind your breathing mask. The corner of his mouth twitches as he eyes the way the necklace sits above your collarbones; a perfect fit.

It probably goes without saying that you have accepted his advances, but the customs of the Sky People are odd and he wants to make certain.

“You accept, then?” He asks, reaching out and settling his fingers over the woven fibres of the necklace. You’re small under his hand – his fingers reach one of your shoulders and his palm reaches the other, dwarfing you. 

Your head tilts, a little frown creasing your brow, before you smile and nod. “Of course I accept it. It’s very lovely. I’m honoured. I didn’t know that you made your own jewelry.”

The last piece of mating jewelry he had crafted had been a bracelet for Sylwanin. It’s not something that he wants to think about right now, so he shrugs roughly.

“I do not, usually. This is different.”

“Oh.” You say, a little breathlessly.

Tsu’tey’s tail twitches recklessly. It’s time for the next step.

“I would take you to my hut.” He begins cautiously, watching your face. “It is finished now. I have made it comfortable.”

You blink, and take a careful breath. He wonders what you’re thinking. 

“I would like that.” You say quietly, your eyes drifting towards his tail, which is twitching as he awaits your answer.

Triumph soars in his chest, and a slow smile begins to spread over his face. This feels better than any hunt, any accolade, any success he has previously enjoyed. This one is his and his alone – you see him, you want to be his just as he wants to be yours.

You appear to get flustered, and look down at his twitching tail in an apparent effort to distract yourself. You watch the movement, your own lips beginning to curve, before you reach out to touch it.

Tsu’tey goes entirely still, his eyes flaring wider in surprise. He doesn’t pull away, watching intently as your fingers trail over the thin, sensitive skin of his tail. It is bold of you, so bold it nearly steals his breath away. 

“You’re like a cat.” You say, and laugh.

Tsu’tey has no idea what that means, and just continues to stare at you. You’re still holding his tail in your warm, soft hand. The fact that he isn’t pulling away seems to embolden you even more, before you start to bite your lip as you look up at him. 

Tsu’tey takes a soft, quiet breath – do you even know what you’re doing to him right now? Desire is beginning to pool, dark and hot, in his belly as your fingers stroke absently over the thin skin of his tail, your liquid eyes gazing up at him with that shy, enigmatic little smile playing over your face.

Slow and steady, he tells himself firmly, fighting to stay composed. He doesn’t want to scare you away by moving too quickly, but your soft warm hands and sweet little smiles are making it terribly difficult. He wants to touch you back, but he doesn’t want to startle you.

“Sorry,” You murmur, apparently growing self-conscious. You begin to pull back. “I didn’t mean to-”

“You may touch me.” He interrupts before you pull too far back. He has been intimate with women before, but this moment with you feels infinitely more intimate and illicit than anything he has experienced before. 

You watch him in return, eyes bright. Is he imagining the excitement on your face, mirroring his own feelings?

Slowly, you trace up his tail. His skin shivers under your touch, but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, he leans in a little closer as your fingers move from his tail to his chest, tracing over the lighter stripes on his skin. It feels as though your touch is leaving trails of heat in its wake, and he fights to keep his breathing steady and even as your eyes follow the path of your fingers.

His own fingers twitch, but he keeps his hands to himself. He wants to give this to you, to allow you the opportunity to be in charge of this moment. You’ve always been curious, and watching you exploring his own body only stokes his desire – but he holds back. He will be patient, and he will take this slow. He wants to do this whole thing right.

Your fingers trail down over the defined muscles of his abdomen, and he flexes entirely on instinct. You must like what you see, because your smile turns bashful as you trace your way around his waist.

He’s so preoccupied with watching your face that he doesn’t watch where your hands go next. It means that he is taken entirely by surprise when he feels your delicate, small fingers wrap around his kuru.

His back goes ramrod straight, his eyes flaring wide in shock. It was an innocent touch, only wrapping around the protective braid curiously, but the sheer fact that his prospective mate, wearing the mating gift he had made, holds the most intimate and sacred part of him in their hands has his toes curling into the dirt where you sit. 

A jolt of pure, liquid elation jolts down his spine. No partner of his has ever touched his kuru – it was saved specifically for a mate. And though you may not be capable of making tsaheylu with him, the sheer sensation of you holding this sacred part of him nearly makes his vision white out.

“Oh!” He hears your voice say as though from a distance. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep-!”

He’s sure his pupils are blown wide, his ears alert and hot. He wants to reassure you that your overstep is most welcome, but it feels as though his brain has half-melted.

“Tsu’tey?”

He comes back to himself, though his thoughts are still scattered. As he regains some of his awareness, he realises that his desire is beginning to grow obvious beneath his loincloth. 

Fuck. He was meant to be taking it slow! He couldn’t invite you to his hut and then grow so visibly aroused in front of you; it was not honourable, and he did not want you to feel pressured.

He lurches backwards, nearly sprawling in the dirt. It’s a graceless movement, ungainly and unlike him, but then again all of this is entirely outside of his realm of experience. 

You’re staring at him with wide eyes and an open mouth, your hand still raised in midair.

“I have to go.” He says sharply, pushing himself to his feet. It’s all he can think to do to preserve both of your dignities before he ruins his careful courtship plans with his own reckless desires.

“But-” You start, your face crumpling. “Am I still invited-”

“I must go,” He repeats, hastily angling himself so that you can’t see his front. 

He takes several firm steps away before hesitating, then turns back to look at you. “Tomorrow. You may come back tomorrow.”

You still look utterly bewildered, but Tsu’tey hurries away all the same. As he goes, he adjusts his tewng as surreptitiously as possible. 

Despite his tactical retreat, he feels more optimistic than he has in a long time. As he approaches the village he feels a feral triumphant grin begin to grow over his face. That likely could have gone smoother at the end, but overall he finds himself feeling impossibly pleased with himself. 

He has succeeded at his attempt at courting a human, and he has done so without Jakesully’s help. You have accepted all his gifts, you agreed to come and see his hut, and judging by the way you had groped at his tail and his kuru, physical attraction certainly wouldn’t be a problem for either of you.

 It has left him excited for tomorrow, and yearning for more of your soft little hands against his skin.

[wordsinhaled]

“I need you” isn’t “I love you,” and it isn’t “Yes, let’s go off together,” but the thing is, it might as well be. And it might be one of the more honest things Aziraphale has ever said.

He has never said it aloud before now. Not like this, with eons worth of raucous indignant feeling crawling up into his throat. He had not wanted, not expected to say it like this, mocked by his own stricken reflection in Crowley's sunglasses, each lens a dark mirror.

"I—I need you," says Aziraphale, and his voice breaks down the middle. It might as well, for he's confessed too late. Crowley is shut to him, recedes from him like a wave broken on the terrible bedrock of Aziraphale's futile stubbornness.

And still, even like this, Aziraphale needs him.

His presence, his constancy. His unfailing, tenacious friendship.

Crowley’s kindness, his softness, his solicitousness under the prickly façade Aziraphale sees is just that—a layer that can be so easily peeled away to reveal the deep core of caring beneath, too entrenched to be deserved by any world they could live in. He needs Crowley’s unguarded gaze, needs the way Crowley’s forever looking at him across distances when he thinks Aziraphale doesn’t notice: chin tilted up, eyes soft as marigold petals.

A phone call away whenever anything or nothing at all happens is Crowley’s dear voice; his lovely dry humor; his sauntering, slithering, improbable walk despite which he somehow flawlessly falls into step alongside Aziraphale anywhere and all the time. His hip knocking against Aziraphale’s, casual as anything and yet so much more than. Flashes of black and wisps of red flitting in and out of Aziraphale’s periphery for thousands of years.

He needs their circuitous arguments, their winding ethical debates—after most of which they somehow end up on the same side, that is, their own side, terrifying and exhilarating in its Promethean familiarity—and Crowley’s chaotically-sure moral compass. The times Crowley is braver than Aziraphale could ever be; and the times Crowley reminds him of how brave he actually always has been.

And Aziraphale needs even the great big awful rows, the ones that end in their standing on opposite verges of another chasm of their own making. Because the culmination of such a fight is always the meeting again in the middle. It’s the low sweeping bow of their apology, a ritual not half earnest for all its facetiousness, which says so much without either of them having to utter a word. Crowley holds a whole conversation in the dip of his fiery head and the exaggerated flutter of his elegant wrists, when it’s his turn; and, when it’s Aziraphale’s, the hashing-out of differences is there in the way he executes each familiar movement with the practiced ease of a faithful courtier, though it’s been ages since he stood in any king’s court.

He needs the knowledge that they always forgive each other. Because, well, they do. They must. They will. What’s a spat or a quarrel or even a proper falling-out to two beings like them, to him and Crowley?

Aziraphale needs Crowley’s happiness. His truest happiness. If that isn't the crux of it all, what is?

He remembers the ancient light of Crowley's joy, how it had shone once about both of them like an aura through the blackness of undeveloped space. It never left, all that bright, barely reined-in giddiness, all that frenetic energy, but he's transmuted it, magpie-like, into something else. Aziraphale can sense it whenever Crowley brings him a new vintage record to add to his collection. Whenever Crowley pulls out Aziraphale’s chair for him outside Marguerite's, or orders just what he likes for him at the Ritz. Whenever he drops into the shop unannounced with a little box tucked under his arm, full of gorgeous petits fours from the new bakery Aziraphale hasn’t yet tried, and says, gleeful, Ohhh, you wouldn’t believe all the wiling I had to do to get my hands on these, angel. You’ll have to thwart me for this, I know. But first—no, no, no, first! The only sensible thing for you to do would be to try them… you’ll like the pear macaron...

And of course Crowley is right. He's right about most things, isn't he, after all? Because Crowley knows him, and he needs to be known, but it simply wouldn't do for anyone else to be the one doing the knowing.

Aziraphale likes the pear macaron, just as Crowley knew he would.

He likes all the things that come along with Crowley, really. The fast car, oh yes, sleek and stylishly classic and so very Crowley through and through, though Aziraphale has committed staunchly to grousing about it. The way no companionable silence held in Crowley's company is ever truly silent. The jaunts to the park on seasonable days: Crowley's touch lingering where he pours frozen peas for the ducks into Aziraphale's cupped palm; the fondness in Crowley's tone poorly disguised as he points out his favorite mated pair trawling placidly across the pond. The drinking together long past the small hours of the morning in the back room of the bookshop, where the walls are the same warm ochre shade as Crowley’s eyes.

It isn't ever so much about the drinking as it is about the together bit. How the space between them dwindles with the syrupy passage of time. How Crowley softens and melts into the settee. How he becomes Aziraphale's to watch, for once. How he grows so wondrously relaxed and gloriously at home there in Aziraphale's space that Aziraphale begins to wonder if this will at last be the night Crowley does not, eventually, get up and retreat back to his Bentley to take himself away again...

There is always that fragile little moment, right after sobering up, when everything in their universe seems at the same time to be entirely too set in stone and entirely too much as though it all hangs by one delicate, dissembling thread. Always the split second in which Aziraphale looks into Crowley's guileless face and remembers he could unravel everything with a single tug.

Yes, one sharp tug on the lapels of Crowley's jacket would do it, he knows. How easily it could be done... Tumble the two of them into one another, just then, and they would never be parted again. And his deft-tongued Crowley would lick the heat and the aftertaste of Talisker into Aziraphale's mouth, then, before it had the chance to dissipate completely.

He could. He could.

It's in those stretched milliseconds, brimming with a tender longing so acute it tips right over into an agony, that Aziraphale realizes: I do need all of you, darling, don't I? So terribly much it might unmake me one day. Never mind Aziraphale's most fickle and blustering attempts at denial, he knows this to be true as he knows the truth of little else in the cosmos.

And perhaps today is that day—the day Aziraphale will dissolve and be remade in the permanent shape of lack.

[kalims]

— MALLEUS DRACONIA | pasilyo

or, sometimes you forget how many decades behind malleus is in slang. in comparison to lilia out of all people, he's like a very clueless innocent individual.

cw. very comical miscommunication (not the bad kind in romantic stuff heh)

wc. 1.4k

note. I can't stop thinking about malleus who really just doesn't get modern slang. this is a small treat ^^

can I get a 'heyy' from my fellow filo babes who know where the title is from

"no way," you gasp. "shut up!" a large smile encases your face, one that you try to contain with a futile cover of the mouth—malleus however jolts in confusion, his brows furrow in what it seems to be concern. he looks like a very confused, kicked puppy (or dragon?) overall.

out of expression, you slap his arm without a hint of aggression but he seems more bothered by your words than the.. hit that didn't seem to phase him at all.

malleus ponders deeply on what had gone wrong, and what he had said. you are laughing right now but your words sounded like you were upset (well not exactly your tone but your words itself,) he frowns, he feels very lost right now.

plus since you are his very special friend he despises you being upset. more so, him being the reason for it.

your laughing gradually decreases once you realizes that there's no one responding to you but the silence. a flicker of concern flashes in your eyes at malleus' very serious expression. "uh.. is something wrong..?" you ask nervously.

even though you're absolutely sure that he heard you malleus stays silent—tense as though he's being held hostage, looking more uncertain each passing second.

"hello?" you try.

you deflate. what is wrong with this man? where is the restart button? you cross your arms over your chest and raise a brow, at the still not speaking malleus.

at times you don't understand malleus and that's a given since even lilia had to go up to tell you that malleus was trying to impress you with fae customs but it's not like you knew that—and not that malleus knew the difference between culture of human and fae separately.

so yeah. there was no way you were gonna realize that the time malleus was trying to convince you to live in a tower with him was basically akin to a.. marriage of sorts? since married couples usually live in the same area, for fae it's the same.. or.. dragons? minus the ring and ceremony.

also apparently that was more important than an actual wedding ceremony?!

to others it was torture to watch you and malleus go back and forth—you trying to ask him out the normal, human way. and malleus trying to bound you to him eternally in the non-normal, fae way. you've lost count on how many times you heard sebek emit the most manly screech you've ever heard when he just so happens to stumble upon his lord..

doing.. courting rituals..

to you.

"M-MALLEUS-SAMA! HAS THIS HUMAN TRICKED YOU?!"

"WHY ARE YOU SHEATHING YOUR SWORD SEBEK—"

anyone could guess which scream belonged to who.

well whatever! point is tsunotaro seems to be unresponsive to you right now for some odd reason. have you done something wrong? (this is very ironic since malleus is also thinking the same.) all you did was slap his arm—oh my god did he get offended by that?

out of realization your eyes widen as your arms retract and hang by your sides uselessly. you look straight in his eyes and say; "I am so sorry," with furrowed brows and genuinely apologetic eyes malleus is struggling to keep up with your first request.

like that time he legit just stormed the diasomnia fridge, stole some poor student's tub of ice cream and high tailed it to your dorm because you were supposed to eat a cone yourself but was unable to due to the work load crowley had dumped you (honestly, what's new?)

so in a way it made you sad because damn was ice cream good. instead of it melting away your troubles it actually did melt instead.

because of some crow.

all just because he would go around the world for you if you asked.

(some cheesy part of you would imagine him going around you because how nice would it be if he saw you as his world? though if you did that to him instead and call him your world you reckon he'll take a few minutes of explaining before getting it.)

in the end malleus breaks. his will to oblige your request just fades in the back of his mind because he does not know why you're apologizing to him for no reason when clearly, he's the one that upset you! "my child of man.. you aren't the one at fault," he looks at you like he's sorry. "it is i,"

what.

now you're confused. "uh.. wait what?" didn't you just hit him? was he not mad about that even though your little slap probably didn't even make him feel anything? "didn't I just hit you?"

his face contorts into suprise. "oh really?" he mumbles. even though there's not much shock after you can tell he has no idea what you're talking about.

now you're even more confused! if he's not upset with that then what was he being all silent treatment about? malleus shrugs at you. "even so, I don't mind. you can hit me as many times as you'd like, I can take it," he says seriously.

you splutter. WHAT. you were literally just listening to him spill tea a couple minutes ago.. that sounds so wrong on many levels and you don't even wanna consider what he's saying because one, that's just weird! and two, sebek would literally strangle you.

and both you and malleus would not like you being strangled like that.

"what. just stop, please," you raise a hand and he immediately shuts up. "what are you talking about? you didn't do anything wrong." you deadpan.

this time he tilts his head. "you told me to shut up didn't you? so I merely did as you told—" he says casually. which baffles you all the more because this is starting to sound insane! did he actually take it literally.

malleus is so pure sometimes.

so pure that you can't help but stifle a giggle. and it takes you a couple of seconds of just containing your laughs to speak again. "i- pfft.. I was just joking," you manage to say in between laughs.

oh that was a joke? he should consult with lilia to tell him all about the current trendy jokes. "oh,"

you realize he probably didn't know what you were saying so you take it upon yourself to explain. "um.. it's like,, an expression of disbelief and uh.. amazement?" you explain. cringing at your horrible explanation, it just isn't your forte.

malleus still nods attentively. listening to every word you say. "I see, thank you. my child of man, I will make sure to utilize this new knowledge," he smiles at you in a way you just can't resist.

malleus is very endearing but..

that sounds.. kind of concerning.

ㅤ

and take it to play does he.

"malleus-sama, have you heard?" sebek chimes in with a certain glint in his eyes. lilia chuckles at the clear excitement of his dearest sun from the kitchen counter.

someone get him out of the kitchen.

malleus hums thoughtfully, should he get lilia to wrap the dinner for you as well? you must be hungry. "heard what?" he answers a moment later.

"the southern lights will shine upon briar valley this year. shan't we visit soon?!"

sebek is true though. if the southern lights really is going to shine upon briar valley then malleus would like to take you there. just so you could see the beauty of it. (and perhaps, he could spend more time relishing in the beauty of you and your existence.)

seeing it will be an experience for sure. though he's seen countless southern lights malleus looks forward to it this year.

plus.. his heart warms at the thought of his people being able to witness it.

a thought pops into his mind.

"shut up,"

malleus says it so monotonously, without any emotion whatsoever that silence stretches across the room in an uncomfortable fog, and if anyone listens closely they can hear crickets.

a cloud of shame washes over sebek's face as his mouth clamps shut. lilia pauses (saving himself from a deep cut because anyone can tell that he's cutting the carrots way too big.) and raises his brow.

"now malleus—,"

sebek bows repeatedly before bolting out of the room with a trail of stormy clouds following him comically.

"what was that all about? look at what you've done. you've upset sebek,"

that's what he thought with you as well. the things you've taught him is surely working right now, no?

ah yes.. next time you meet he should ask you about more of this strange languange.

note. MY FINGERS ARE SO TIREDD

not proofread

ko-fi

[thegnomelord]

oh my lord... mentioning merfolk finally pushed me into sending in an ask for you, so hai!

im a huge marine bio nerd and i could probably ramble about that kinda stuff for awhile so im gonna keep it shorter and stick to sharks, aka my favorite species... i apologize for the very long ramble incoming

id imagine that the kind of shark makes merfolk vary heavily - you have smaller, less aggressive sharks (bamboo sharks, nurse sharks, leopard sharks), then you have dogfish which are aggressive small schooling sharks (that actually have venom from what i remember), and the big bois that are mean like bull sharks, oceanic whitetip sharks, great whites, ect. also you have basking sharks and whale sharks which are big ass chill lads. as much as i love them having a tail instead of legs, i think there'd be two "forms" of merperson, one with legs and a tail and one with just the tail. im mainly referring to the ones with legs and tails when i talk about them

like i was saying, the kind of shark species a merperson (or mershark, ill start calling them that) makes them differ between general personality, strength, size, ect ect. bigger sharks are more popular due to their strength, aggression, and speed, making them very useful in the military. smaller guys also have their advantages - its just that a bull mershark would have a much easier time in the military compared to a lemon mershark. although bigger lads are definitely more of a pain in the ass to work with if they grew up in the ocean over on land, cause i like to think most mershark (and merfolk in general) prefer living in the ocean. smaller sharks are easier to control, as they tend to be less prideful and stubborn compared to the bigger species. oceanic whitetip would be especially bad due to their aggression and pride, they're probably the most aggressive species of shark in the ocean

then when it comes to mating/courtship rituals... they don't do any of the fancy things like a werewolf, harpy, or dragon, they're rather direct. sharks in the wild don't court, typically when they meet another shark of the opposite gender they mate due to how rarely they meet other sharks, although mersharks would probably have small courtship rituals. it's pretty simple, just spending more time around who they want to court. i also think it'd be really cute if they gave the person they were courting a shark tooth of theirs that fell off as a memento of sorts. when it comes to mating, male sharks bite as a ritual. not as hard as they'd bite prey, but definitely enough to leave scars. shark mating is pretty rough, but mersharks would probably tone it back a little bit, though there will be times when their instincts slip.

mershark are also oblivious as fuck to other courting rituals if they grew up in the ocean. almost no shark species really have courting, so they don't have instincts when it comes to someone courting them, and they don't have the same socialization that a mershark that grew up on land would have. i just think mersharks are very interesting and very cool <3

thank you for reading my insane rambling about sharks and sharkpeople... once again, sorry for the long ramble, but i had to share my thoughts

Oh god anon this is some GOOD SOUP and as a fellow animal nerd I absolutely love hearing weird animal facts and all I can imagine is just Ghost and Sharkmer reader being absolute idiots lol :D

CW: NSFW at the end, short and quick bc brain isn't braining but this concept of your anon is so cool!

Like Ghost initially thinking all monster courting rituals are complicated as fuck, and the info he finds on the internet doesn't help one bit. And you, having grown up in the ocean, have no fucking clue he's trying to court you in some convoluted way.

You'll spend days just existing next to him, or very gently nibbling on his fingers, which, in your mind, makes it very clear you want to mate, but all Ghost thinks is that you want to eat him. And the next thing you know he's shoving an energy bar into your mouth and walking away and you're left confused.

And Ghost, bless the poor fool's soul, eventually gets lured into the waters by your sparkling eyes and wide grin of sharp teeth. The same teeth bite down on every piece of his skin, not enough to actually hurt him, but your teeth marks litter his thighs, his ass, all across his chest and especially around his pecs, from shoulders down to his biceps and anywhere you can reach while you stretch him.

God the sex is one of the best he's ever had, his usually cold body warming up from the proximity of you and the warm waters you're in as you slowly fuck both of your cocks into him, having stretched him open until he was unable to beg between his hiccups. And he's so pretty beneath you, rough groans as he rubs his cock while you move your hips in a slow rhythm, your dicks pushing in and out, in and out, brushing against his prostate until he was close to losing his mind with how you stretched him beyond imagination.

Some of your teeth end up lodged in his shoulder, and when you finish mating him you tell him to keep them, making them into a necklace he now wears around his neck.

[yyokkki]

Hiiii~ any headcannons on how we meet/court/rizz/woo malleus or kalim? Or even trey?

Hii!! You're my first writing request!! I'm sorry it took this long though, this trio in particular are hard to write for me,, 100000 character analyseseses later and I'm finally done TT Trey's is kinda mid cuz I'm actually so blank rn but I hope you don't mind!

---

Your mere existence is enough-

Jk jk, to be totally honest with you, even though I love the Malleus Otome Game allegations I don’t think he’s even considered you like that-

For one, you are first friend and rather than romance he’s more focused on the platonic bond you have.

It’ll take some time for him to see you as a romantic interest, most likely after he manages to befriend others at NRC.

Once that hurdle is passed, we can get to the wooing phase >]

He’s someone who has a very limited knowledge on human customs beyond what he’s learned in Biology class so you’d have to make a trip to the library to read up on fae courting rituals.

Offerings. Lots and lots of offerings. Ice cream, precious jewels, pretty rocks, basically anything you think is nice.

He’ll be quick to catch on.

I do think it’ll take some time for him to accept your feelings. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be in love and he can’t tell if his heartbeat speeding up whenever you’re around is because you’re his best friend or the love of his life.

That’s where peepaw Lilia comes in!

The self-proclaimed master of love himself!

He probably got impatient and decided to just speed things up by having the love talk with Malleus 50 years ahead of the schedule.

(Lilia is really cheering you two on. He’s grown on you as an individual and sees the genuine care you two have for each other.)

Malleus dates to marry, (It was straight up marriage before so thank Lilia) so he brings up the topic of royalty and its duties and dangers. 

He understands if you back out but if you stay? Prepare yourself, for when a Draconia falls, they never climb back out.

Now, making Kalim Al-Asim fall for you is no easy feat. It’s easy to have him like you, sure! But love?

He’s accepted that his future marriage will be arranged by his parents, and he plans to make the best out of it!

But if one day he discovered his smile got a tad brighter around you than anyone else?

Kalim is full of hope but he isn’t innocent or dumb. He knows how he feels and he knows what would happen if he were to act on said feelings. 

Your life would be in constant danger to the point that one day you might come to hate him and he dreaded that possibility.

So instead of running into your arms, he keeps his distance. It’s not obvious enough for you to notice but he keeps himself steadily behind a line.

To earn his love is to earn his trust.

Trust that you’d never make yourself unhappy just for him.

Trust that you won’t be burdened by his emotions.

Trust that you’d always appreciate his existence.

Trust that he doesn’t need to do anything grand to keep your love.

Trust that no matter what, you’d never be able to hate him.

Trey hates conflict. So much of his life is based around avoiding it.

But after Riddle’s incident he’s come to realise that letting something stew for too long will make the pot boil over.

Thus, someone who balances him out, knowing when to act to stop a problem in its tracks would be a godsend.

Someone who despite his ‘normalcy’ loves him for him. Not the completely average student, the kind and caring vice dormleader of Heartslabyul or the dental obsessed freak. Just Trey Clover. For all that he is.

Besides that, he’s always had a longing for domestic bliss. Icing wiped onto noses, matching aprons and the like.

If you were willing to live that out with him it would be all he needed.

While he does enjoy the occasional flirt, wooing him is as simple as that. Calling him out, loving every part of him and savouring the treats he’d made with you in mind.

Next thing you know, you’re receiving ulterior motive cupcakes every week!