#why the willow weeps

[julietasgf]

I had to draw some sketches on human scale for my landscape project class, and I got so proud of these two I wanted to share 🥀

[bonefall]

i just scrolled down on that same tools post. til you can make baskets out twine!

You sure can!

In fact after doing even more research in the months after that tools post, I found out you can use even more than just bramble/blackberry shoots and twine. There is an entire species of willow called "basket willow" from which the shoots are used to weave.

Longtime followers will remember when I was screeching about the Six Willows that I made Clanmew terms for... WELL GIRLIES. I MISSED SOME. THERES MORE THAN SIX AND ELDER BONES IS GONNA MCFREAKING LOSE IT

[wandamaximoffbae]

you can ignore these asks if u want

one thing I'd like to know about you, is if you have a favorite type of tree?

hi! I love crabapple trees!

[eddiesxangel]

Amorem | E.M

Cw: you’re tired of being alone, so you cast a spell to find love. 7.3k words, witch!f!reader x Eddie, magic, fluff, mild angst, smut, unprotected sex, creampie.

“I just feel so lonely.” You sigh.

Robin, Nancy, Max, and Joyce, all collectively nod their heads as you’re all gathered at the Coven house. They can’t help but feel a small amount of pity, they have all found their partners. You’re the last witch standing.

“What about the amorem enchantment?” Joyce, the coven mother suggested. 

She is a wise witch, the townspeople call her eccentric, however she is very knowledgeable when it comes to the craft. 

“That seemed a bit desperate” you sigh. 

“You’re a beautiful witch in your prime, it is time to find your match before it is too late.” Joyce points out.

It is very unfortunate when a witch loses their match due to natural selection because there is a very small window to do something about it. 

The supernatural forces are lenient to keep your human longer than their body allows if you claim them in time. It only works if the match is in their mid-twenties. No one knows why, but it is when you need to act. You’re already in your twenty-fifth year, you can’t push it any longer.

With a sigh of defeat you begrudgingly agree that it was what has to be done.

“Ego invocabo Freyja ad auxilium me invenire amorem” your chant starts softly. Alone at your altar, deep in the meadow with the wildflowers and dew. Your altar is set up against a weeping willow with all you have gathered for your enchantment. 

Amorem enchantments, or love enchantments, are a powerful thing. The magic cannot make someone fall in love with you; that’s not how it works. The magic is to draw the source of love towards you, to help guide the individuals together.

You think of your ideal partner- charismatic, funny, loyal, trustworthy, doting, physical, handsome, artistically inclined, and imaginative. All of those things race on your mind as you chant.

You can feel your magic building. The warmth builds in the depth of your chest and spreads through your arms to your fingertips as you continue the chant. 

“Ego invocabo Freyja ad auxilium me invenire amorem. Dea amoris, adiuva me invenire unum, dea amoris, invocabo Freyja ad auxilium me invenire amorem. Ego invocabo Freyja ad auxilium me invenire amorem” 

The moon is at its highest, the wind is whistling. “Ego invocabo Freyja ad auxilium me invenire amorem. Adiuva me invenire unum, dea amoris, adiuva me invenire unum dea amoris, adiuva me invenire unum ego. One last final chant and it was complete.

You feel a soft brush against your hand. Looking down, you smile at the little ball of fluff—Clover, your familiar. She is a calico rabbit you’ve had since your magic presented itself at eight years of age. 

You glamour your altar so no one would disrupt it- not that anyone comes out here, but you can never be too careful keeping the witches' secret….

A few miles away, tucked up in bed was a man, unbeknownst to him, whose life was about to change.  

Eddie isn’t too sure why he is here. He was in his apartment strumming, trying to find the right chords, when he had a sudden urge to go out. Where? He didn’t know, but if he didn’t, his gut told him he would miss out on something… something big.

Now he’s found himself in this kitschy store next to Melvald’s. He’s never noticed or paid much attention to it, but he found himself pulled up in front of it and being drawn in. 

The wind chimes let you know that a potential customer has entered your little shop whilst you are in the back sorting stock, so you poke your head out to see who’s arrived 

“Let me know if you need anything” you politely say before seeing who was there. 

“Uh… thanks” You see the man scratch his head looking clueless until his eyes meet yours. 

“Oh. Hi,” you step out when you realize who is in your presence.

Eddie Munson, of all people. 

“Hey,” he awkwardly waves. 

You haven’t seen him since you graduated high school, nearly seven years ago. You had heard he was held back a few times, but you hadn’t given him a second thought. 

“Let me know if you’re looking for something specific, I can help you out,” you smile and try and act busy. 

When he turns his back you can’t help but observe him as he searches the shelves. 

“What kind of place is this?” He looks over his shoulder.

“Well we are called Mystic Apothecary, what do you think?” You raise a brow biting back a snarky giggle, the touches of sarcasm rolling off your tongue. 

“Ah,” he nods and continues browsing. 

You curse yourself for being snarky. This is a potential customer, you need to be more approachable.

“So that makes you? What? A Sorceress?” He smirks and you can’t help but blush. 

“You could say that.” 

Eddie spends about ten minutes browsing and picking up little trinkets and other items before bringing them to your counter. 

“Looks like someone wants to get into spell work,” you smile. He has a pentagram pendant, a tapestry, some empty spell jars, so pre filled spell jars, a black obsidian tower, and a cauldron.

“Uh-I needed some props” 

“Props, huh?” Your pointed aubergine nails clack on the register keys to input the prices. 

“I play this game, it’s silly.” He shrugs. 

Eddie wasn’t sure why he was being so bashful. He’s always been so proud to be himself, so why is he nervous in front of you? 

He semi-remembers you from school. You were more subdued and kept to yourself or your girl group. Everyone called you guys the Hawkins Coven, not that you were actually witches, but now he is rethinking that…

It also doesn’t escape him that you’re really pretty—like otherworldly pretty. He was really digging your style. Your peasant skirt and half corset are really doing it for him; very ren fair of you. 

“So, is this like your uniform, or do you always dress like this?”  Where did that come from? Eddie curses himself, but you just giggle.

“Why? You want one for yourself?” You smirk. 

“What? You don’t think I could pull it off?” 

“You would look lovely” 

“Thank you, my lady” he curtseyed. 

This made you giggle some more. This interaction was cute flirty and fun. You have never spoken to him this much, who knew he was so charming? 

“Thanks for shopping.” You pass him his goodies in a paper bag. 

“I guess I’ll see you around?” 

“Yeah,” you smile. 

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding once the chimes for the door let you know Eddie was out of the store. 

What the Hecate was that?

Clover hops over onto the counter giving you a knowing look. 

“No… you don’t think?” 

She twitches her nose. 

“You’re crazy”  

She stomps her little back foot and you roll your eyes. 

“Let’s see.”

Days passed without any interaction with Eddie, until today. While at the food court with the coven, Max caught sight of Lucas, her boyfriend, sitting with his friends. As you approached their table, you unfortunately stumbled after stepping on your bootlace. With a small squeal, you found yourself tripping and falling onto someone's lap. 

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" you exclaimed.

Looking up, you noticed a smirk on his face as he replied,

"Not every day I have a pretty girl falling into my lap." Your cheeks flushed with heat as you realized it was Eddie Munson.

Quickly regaining your composure, you got up, apologized once more, and walked away.

“Pretty, huh? Anything come of the Amorem Enchantment?” Max asks as the group of you walk away. 

“I’m, not sure. Clover thinks she has it all figured out on who it is but I’m skeptical”  

“Okay” you see Max give the others a knowing look but you bite your tongue. You don’t want to jump to conclusions.

The next day, you and Robin are out running errands, preparing for the upcoming full moon in a few days. Your coven always gathers during the highest point of the moon to draw magic from the earth, strengthening your bond and powers. It's like recharging a battery; it's not necessary, as magic never fades, but it can lie dormant if not utilized correctly.

"Hey, isn't that Munson?" Robin acknowledges, catching your attention. Surprised to see him again so soon, after seven years of not crossing paths, now encountering him for the third time in 2 weeks. "I suppose it is," you respond.

"I hardly see him," Robin remarks, her tone implying something you don't appreciate. 

"And?" you question, raising an eyebrow.

"And nothing," she replies in a defensive tone. 

"Has Brutus been talking to Clover?" you ask, disliking the familiars' gossiping habits.

"I'm not a snitch," Robin retorts, prompting you to roll your eyes. 

Her owl never seems to know when to stay quiet.

"Are you stalking me, Sorceress?" Eddie startles you as he approaches from behind. "Going to fall for me again?" he teases, making you clear your throat. 

Eddie seems unsure why he left the shop. That feeling of being drawn to a particular place during his lunch break, was gnawing that the back of his head, which led him straight to you.

"Damn, Munson, creeping up on all the ladies?" Robin scolds, to which Eddie replies, 

"Nah, just Sorceress here," tilting his head as you feel a blush rising on your cheeks.

“Sorceress, huh?” Robin raises her brows at you. 

“He came to the Apothecary.” You defend. 

“Uh-huh,” she nods and smiles. Only confirming Clover and Brutus’ accusations. 

“Yep, well we better get going. Joyce is waiting. Good to see you.” You grab Robin and take off before Eddie can ask you what he’s been wanting to do since yesterday.

The Halloween Fall festival is usually your favourite event of the year. However this year you’ve been working more than enjoying the festivities. You’ve been in the tent most of the day, doing tarot readings and “fortune telling.” You’re exhausted and about to close up when a deep voice catches your attention.

“Guys I’m not doing it, it’s dumb.” 

“Too bad you lost the bet now go in there!” A younger-sounding guy demands. 

“It’s all hocus poc- woah” The man is pushed into view and you can’t believe your luck when it’s Eddie.

“All a bunch of Hocus Pocus, huh?”

Of course, he would be a non-believer. 

“Flip that sign to say Closed for me would ya?” You ask whilst shuffling the deck for hopefully the last time today.

“You trying to get me alone or something,” Eddie suggests but you ignore it. 

“Sit.” 

“Yes ma’am” Eddie smirks, pulling out the chair. 

With a big sigh, you shuffle the deck with your eyes closed. 

“What is it you want to know?” 

“Uh…” 

“A general reading it is. Fifteen dollars.” You motion to the glass jar and he scrambles to put the cash in. 

You feel that the cards are aligned so you go ahead a pull. The six cards are placed face down between you and Eddie. 

“Ready?” You smirk. 

“I guess.” He shrugs.

You flip the first card. 

“Chariot in Reverse. You feel like there is a lack of direction in your life. Like you’re on the right path but maybe a little lost. Like you took the wrong turn down the road.”

You flip the second card.

“Death.”

Eddie looks up at you. He looks scared, but you giggle.

“It’s not literal, it means new beginnings, change, metamorphosis. Like you’re finally finding your path.” You look up at him through your lashes and he lets out the breath he was holding in. 

“The lovers” you continue with a gulp and flip the next card, The Eight of Stars.

“There is hope for a new relationship forming.” You continue to flip the fifth card and of course, it’s The Empress.

“More growth and beauty to enter into this new relationship. “

“How do you know it’s new?” Eddie interrupts. 

This catches you off guard. It’s not like you can come out a say ‘I cast a love enchantment and you’re the only one who is consistently popping up in my life.’

“I’m a fortune teller. Duh” 

This makes Eddie giggle and relax a bit more, so you continue to the final card. 

“The Devil.” You sigh, and Eddie’s eyes blow wide again with wonder.

“It’s because I’m the town Satanist, isn’t it?” He accuses.

Once again you ignore him and continue.

“This relationship will be addictive, lustrous, seductive. You won’t be able to keep your hands off one another. You’re both going to fall and fall hard” Your eyes are locked in on one another. You want to look away but you can’t, you think he feels it too, the pull… 

When did you start leaning into one another? Your faces are so close, just a centimetre more and- you pull back immediately as the sound of the timer makes you both jump. 

“Well, times up thanks for coming” You stand and rush him out. 

“What? That’s it?” 

“Yep. Have fun at the festival!” You close the curtain in front of him before he can say another word. 

Eddie can’t believe what has just happened. He stood there awestruck but also very confused. 

“Dude, what happened?” Eddie’s friend Jeff shakes him. 

“Uh,” he scratches the back of his head “I have no fucking idea.” Eddie looked back over his shoulder at the tent but there was no movement at all. 

The situation with Eddie was consuming your day-to-day. Weeks have passed since the festival, and all you thought about was him. You finally are coming to terms that the enchantment is what is leading the two of you together, why deny it?

Eddie and you haven’t bumped into one another since the Halloween Festival and it’s been eating at you. After the tarot reading you realized you shouldn’t have pushed him away like that. What if you had scared him off? The magic can only do so much. 

Instead of moping around your house after work, hoping you bump into him. You decided to go to the grocery store strolling for some spices, your arsenal had been dwindling. 

Drifting off in your own little world, you hum with your headphones on as you try and reach for the cinnamon, of course, at the very back on the top shelf, you try and get it. You reach and reach on your highest tip toes looking like a fool, unable to use a summoning spell in public you curse whoever built these deep shelves. Just as you were about to look around to see if the coast was clear enough to use a little unharmful magic, you see a bare arm decorated with bats come from behind you grabbing the cinnamon sticks. 

“Hey do you mind-“ but you stop mid-sentence when they drop their hand down signalling for you to take it. 

“Thanks” You turn to see your knight in shining armour. Eddie.

“No big deal” he smiles. It’s a good smile. You observe him, losing focus you let down your guard. 

Eddie’s eyes widen with shock and you instantly put your guard back up. Your eyes must have given it away…

“You okay?” He asks placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“Yeah,” you laugh it off, “why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Your eyes… they uh… they looked pink”

Pink?! Pink of all things! You mentally scold yourself.

“Oh uh. My contacts make your eyes irritated sometimes.” You play it cool… but Eddie and you both knew your irises were what changed colour, not the whites. 

“Uh-Hu” he nods, totally trying to not be freaked out, but also a little turned on? 

“Um,” you stand in awkward silence for half a minute. “Thank you for the help” You motion to the cinnamon and turn on your heel. 

“Wait!” He grazes your elbow now holding on too tight. 

“Can we, uh- I um.” He curses under his breath, “Would you like to go out with me?” He almost shouts and you. “Sorry. That was. You don’t have to…I just thought-“ 

“Eddie!” you cut him off.

He pauses realizing he never gave you a second to answer.

“I would love to.” You smile. Trying extra hard to stay focused because you know your eyes are a deep magenta under the glamour you hold. 

“Great! Okay,” he claps his hands together. “I‘ll call you!” He gestures his hand to make a phone by his ear and starts to walk away. 

“Wait! You don’t have my number!” You giggle. 

“Oh right,” he mentally scolds himself shaking his head shyly. 

After you gave Eddie your number, you cast a little memory spell just in case he misplaces the paper, (only for insurance purposes) did you make your way to Robin’s place. 

“Pink!” Robin screams.

“Keep your voice down!” 

Robin totally knew from the beginning that Eddie was the one you summoned. She was excited for you! She knows what love can bring to a person’s life. She and Nancy are lucky to experience it together, and she just wants you to be as happy as they are. 

“You got it B-A-D” she spells out. 

“I do not! I don’t even know him!”

“Pinnnnnnk” she leans in.

“Ugh.” You throw your hands up in defeat and you feel Clover snuggle herself into your lap. 

“Yeah, yeah, you were right.” You pet Clover's back. 

“So now what?” 

“He asked me out” You can’t help but smile, 

“Oh!” Robin points at you again. “Pink!”  She points at you. “I’m talking P-I-N-K!”

You never use your glamour around the coven because why would you? Your emotions could be read from a mile away. 

“What are you guys going to do?”

“I’m not sure, guess we wait to see where the magic takes us”

Nervously, you mix a soothing tonic to ease your racing heart. Deep down, you know that the fates have intertwined your paths for a reason... He feels like the one, yet the mystery surrounding him is overwhelming. This uncertainty fuels your anxiety.

This is the final first date you’ll ever experience, the last time you’ll open your heart to someone new. And for the first time, it feels as if everything is aligning perfectly. But lurking in the back of your mind is the daunting truth that you’ll eventually need to reveal your not-so-little secret.

What if he’s frightened by who you really are? What if he can’t accept it?

The thought of erasing his memories and losing the love of your life is almost too much to bear.

Getting ahead of yourself, lost in thought your attention is checked back into reality when your doorbell rings. With a beep breath, you answer the door. Stood there on your wooden porch was Eddie, looking so handsome. His hair was freshly washed, his shirt freshly ironed and tucked into his pants. He held a bouquet of small purple daisies and a nervous smile. 

“Woah,” he spoke as you opened the door. “You look incredible.” 

“Thank you, and so do you” You feel your cheeks fill with heat, and you pay extra attention to the glamour for your eyes. 

“Shall we?”

“Let’s” You hook your arm in his and he leads the way. 

“So where are you taking me?” You ask as you strap yourself in. 

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, other than witchy stuff” he blushed, “so I thought it was safe to go to the Christmas market.” 

That you were not expecting, and unfortunately for Eddie, he could read it in your face 

“Oh, god, you hate it. I swore all girls love Christmas-“

“No Eddie it’s sweet, it’s just I don’t celebrate Christmas. Well I do, but it’s not what you would think. We, my friends and I, celebrate Yule. It’s Pagan.” 

“Pagan,” He hums to himself, “that’s badass.” 

This makes you giggle, and Eddie sighs with relief that you’re not annoyed at him. 

“There are a lot of Pagan holidays that the Christians stole from us and made their own, but I don’t want to bore you with the details.” You wave your hand dismissively. 

“No, I’d love to learn.” He looks at you earnestly. 

“You sure? I kind of ruined your plans, I still don’t mind going! I do love a good gingerbread cookie and hot chocolate.” You smile. 

“You sure?” 

“I am!” 

“I’m honoured, Sorceress” he smiles and puts his truck into drive.

You had an expectedly wonderful time at the Christmas festival, all thanks to Eddie. He made sure you were snug and warm, wrapping you up so the chill wouldn’t bite. As soon as you stepped through the gates, he treated you to hot chocolate and a gingerbread man.

The two of you shared endless laughter while attempting to ice skate, your conversations flowing effortlessly. Hours slipped by, and before you knew it, your toes were numb, signalling it was time to head home.

Parting ways felt bittersweet; you longed to keep the conversation going all night, but deep down, you knew that would be too much for a first date. The bond you shared was unlike anything you had ever experienced, and it was clear Eddie felt it, too. You could almost see the enchanting connection that drew you together, like shimmering golden dust swirling in the air, creating an invisible thread that linked your hearts.

As Eddie bid you goodnight, he bravely leaned in for a gentle kiss. It was like time stopped, all the puzzle pieces had failed into place. Even it if it was chaste, it was sweet and tender, and you could sense his nervousness, but you let him take his time, savouring the moment. A broad smile spread across your face, silently assuring him that you felt the same spark he did. 

“I’ll call you.” he winks as he walks down the dirt driveway.

You pray to Hecate he does. 

You’ve lost count of the amount of dates you and Eddie have been on. It’s been almost three months and you couldn’t be happier, but the anxiety of telling him about who you are has been clawing at the back of your mind and it needs to be soon. Joyce had warned you that if you don’t take action within the next few weeks then the window of opportunity will be sealed forever. 

It seemed too soon like you were rushing into it. You hadn’t even said I love you, and yet you were expecting him to agree to a life of immortality with you?

Tonight, you had built up the courage to tell him about yourself. You invited Eddie over to your place. He has been here many times, but you glamoured most of the house to look somewhat normal. You hid your runes and sigils that were carved into your door frames, your potions room was made to look like a dining room, and your altar was locked away in the basement.  

But tonight all of that would be revealed, hopefully, it would be a small amount of magic that would t make him go running for the hills. 

As you looked around one last time, you heard Eddie approach the door. 

With a deep breath, you feel Clover rub against your leg for reassurance. 

“Thanks, babe.” You pick her up and open the door to see Eddie with his hand in a fist, like he was about to knock. 

“How do you always do that” he smiles pulling you in for a kiss. You’re not sure how but he always makes your head spin with even the simplest of kisses. 

“Call it intuition…” 

You guide him into the kitchen and offer him a drink. He asked for a beer, and as you pour it into a glass, you may or may not have slipped a drop of that relaxing tonic you conjured up into it, just for insurance purposes. 

“Mmm thank you, babe” Eddie smiles and you giggle at the a beer foam moustache on his face.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” You lean in a kiss it away. 

“There, all better.” You lean back up to fix yourself a drink, a strong one. 

You’re unusually quiet as the night goes on, and Eddie can sense something is up. 

“You okay sweetheart?” He pushes your hair behind your shoulder as you both are curled up on the couch. 

“Yea… it’s just. I have to tell you something, and I’m not sure how you’re going to take it.” You twiddle with your almost empty glass in hand. 

“You can tell me anything, you know that? Eddie’s reassurance wasn’t helping, but it was nice that he truly thought that.

You take a big, deep breath in, trying to think back to how you rehearsed your lines in your head, and you begin.

“I want you to know that I care about you a lot.” You don’t miss Eddie’s eyes light up as you continue, “and I know what I am about to share is not what you’re going to expect, but you have to believe me that it changes nothing.” You look him deep in the eyes. 

“You’re freaking me out, babe.” He laughs nervously, so you take both his hands in yours. 

“It’s nothing bad, I promise.” 

He chuckles uncomfortably once again.

“I’m not… like… other women.” 

“No, you are not.” He wiggles his brows trying to lighten the mood.” 

“Eddieeee” you draw out his name, “I’m serious.” 

“Sorry, I‘ll be a good boy… for now.” You can’t help but roll your eyes.

Eddie laughs at your dramatics, but when your eyes roll back, making eye contact with him, he notices they’re not the same colour. They’re deep orange, almost auburn. 

“Sweetheart, what’s going on” he tries to pull his hands away but you hold them tight.

“I told you, baby, I’m not like other women, I’m… different.” You thought letting the glamour of your eyes would help soften the blow but now you’re not so sure. 

“Your eyes! They.. they’re orange!” 

Eddie can’t look away, his face contorted with confusion. 

“It’s because I’m anxious.” 

“What does that mean?” He can’t look away. “Please, I want to understand.” 

It wasn’t like he was scared more confused than anything. 

“I’m a Witch, Eddie.” And with that you let the house revert to how it is supposed to be. 

A guest of wind blew through the house and with it was unveiled the old wood, deep rich jewel tones painted on the walls, tapestries, the portraits of old coven members long gone, the broom sweeping by itself, the clean dishes being levitated to their correct spots.

Eddie was frozen, his jaw was moving up and down but no words were coming out. He looked around the changed room frantically but also did not want to look away from you. It’s not that he thought you would hurt him, no. He felt things for you that he’s never felt for one singular person… but now he isn’t so sure. 

“This is insane” Eddie stood and your heart broke a little as you saw him start walking. Almost running to the door. 

“Eddie, please! Let me explain! Don’t be scared!”

“Don’t be scared?! There is a broom moving by itself” he shouts. 

“Please” you beg but it was of no use. 

“Just, give me a second” he spoke before slamming the door behind him he leaves you alone in your big empty house. 

Your eyes well up as you feel clover brush your ankles. Nudging you towards the door. 

She was telling you to go after him, but how could you? You terrified him, your worst fears coming to reality. 

“Clove, I can’t” 

Yes, you can. She spoke to you telepathically. 

As your familiar nudged you with her fluffy little head you stepped closer and closer toward the door. 

Through the stained glass you could see a figure pacing up and down the dirt driveway. 

“He didn’t leave” you whispered out loud. 

See, you look down and Clover is eying you. 

You decided to put the glamour back up, in case your eyes still freaked him out. 

“Eddie” you call out tentatively. 

“Babe, just… I need a minute” his breathing was heavy, his face contorted with confusion and he was mumbling to himself. 

To think you’re the crazy one in this situation…

On the bright side, he still called you babe, and not by your name. 

“Okay,” you stand awkwardly on the porch and wait for him to calm down.

After what felt like hours Eddie built up the courage to glance at you. His heart fluttered at the sight of you. Not because he was scared or nervous but because he knew you were it for him. Even after he digested the bomb you just dropped on him, he knew he wanted to be with you. 

“You are one freaky girl” he pointed as he walked towards the porch steps.

“I thought you liked freaky” You can’t help but flirt. It came so naturally to him. 

“You have no idea” he pulled you in for a hug. A suffocating, bone-crushing hug. One that told you he wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Ok let’s talk,” he pulled away and you led him back in the house. 

You started from the beginning, explaining the coven, how your parents were also magical, but had been off gallivanting through the Betwixed realm for years now. 

“So, are you like 100 years old?” He smirks, and you smack his bicep. 

“No, I’m exactly how old I told you I am” 

“Sorry,” he laughed. 

You explain how the magic works, and he asks you if you’ve ever used any on him. 

“The only thing I have used in you is a tonic to calm you but it obviously didn’t work. Guess I needed more for you,” you half laugh to yourself. 

“That’s it? Really?” 

“Technically, yes.” you pause. and he waits silently for you to explain. “I performed an enchantment to find you.” You twiddle the hem of your skirt nervously. 

“Oh?”

“It wasn’t you, specifically, more like a nudge to point us both in the right direction.”

“So that’s why I had that feeling to go somewhere and I hadn’t known why? That’s why I walked into your shop!” He snapped his fingers as he put the pieces together.

“Yeah,” you smile. 

“So you desperately wanted me?” He moved closer, inviting your space. 

“Desperate?” You gasp.

“Yes, little Witch” he placed a gentle finger on your chin, nudging you to look at him. 

“We would have found one another eventually, it was written in the starts. Isn’t that what your cards told us?” 

“But we are running out of time” you confess. 

“What?” Eddie pulled back.

“There is this… rule, I guess you could call it? If a witch finds a mortal match, then they only have a small window to perform a ritual to make their loved one immortal, like them.” 

“Immortal?” 

“Yes, Eddie.” You sigh, “I can live forever if I want. We have life-extending magic, I don’t age the same. Our aging slows down as of the twentieth year of a witch’s life. I will look like this for the next sixty-five years probably.”

“Woah” Eddie whispers. 

“And the thought of us going through life together with you growing old and dying.” You choke back tears. 

“Hey, hey” Eddie soothed, and you took a deep breath. 

“But there is something we can do.” You sniffle. 

“I know it’s so soon, and a bit crazy. But I can promise you forever with me if that’s what you choose” 

Eddie’s eyes widen at the offering, “you don’t have to give me an answer now, but I will need to know soon, maybe a month or so.” 

“Then what?”

“Then I perform the ritual, or I wipe your memory clean of any of this” You can’t help your voice from cracking. 

“Oh,” Eddie looks down in disappointment. 

“Yeah….” A single purple tear falls down your cheek. 

You look up at Eddie and he sees your eyes are a deep blue, so blue Eddie knows what that feeling means. Sadness, despair, suffering. 

“So I live forever with you, or we break up?” 

“Yeah,” you sombrely nod your head. 

“What if I choose to live forever then, let’s say in a hundred years we decide to break up… then what?”

“That won’t happen, it doesn’t work like that.” 

“How do you know?” 

“The fates decided Eddie. When I cast the Amorem enchantment it draws the best two people suited for one another. Think of it like a soul mate match. We will never find another one suited for us.”

“What if I just want to live a normal life with you and not be immortal?” 

“Then I’m going to look like this and you’ll be a wrinkled old prune… and eventually I would watch you die and know that I’ll never have another love like ours.” 

“That dosen’t seem any better.” He sighs

“No, it’s much worse actually” You play with Eddie’s fingers as he contemplates his future. 

“I think I’m going to need something a bit stronger than this beer” he laughs half heartedly. 

“I have just the thing” 

After you whipped up a mood-boosting elixir, your night with Eddie became much easier to get through. The damper had been lifted as you and Eddie got drunk off the potion, boosting your serotonin levels. 

Eddie had never been so carefree and you were begging to feel much more positive about your future with Eddie. Maybe it was false hope in the fates, but you also trusted your magic. 

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie and you were in your bed, tucked in after a long night of just wanting to be close to each other.

“Sure” Eddie scoops you into his chest. 

“Are mermaids real? Because I would love to— ouch!” 

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence” you had pinched his nipple. Were you jealous? Maybe a little, but mermaids were vile creatures, nothing like Disney cracked them up to be. 

“Are they real?” Eddie flinched. 

“Unfortunately” 

“Cool!”

“What about Vampires?”

“Yep.”

“Werewolves?”

“Yep.”

“Unicorns?”

“Come on Eddie don’t be ridiculous” you snort.

“What? So witches, vampires, mermaids and werewolves are all real but the universe draws the line at unicorns?!” 

You burst out into a fit of giggles and before Eddie can even stop to think about what he is staying the words come tumbling out. 

“God, I love you.”  

The room falls quiet, no longer are you laughing. 

“I uh- I mean-“

“I love you, too” You lean down to kiss him. 

That nearly invisible force connecting you was now clear as day, to you at least. The magical pull that binds the two of you is now completed, and will never be broken. 

A faint glow filled the room as Eddie and your lips connected, a warmth was felt throughout your whole body, you were sure Eddie felt it too. The magical thread that connected you, whether Eddie accepted the fates or not… even if you wiped his memory of you, you both would still be able to feel it. No matter how long or how far apart you were. 

“Really? You love me?” Eddie asks. 

“I just asked you to spend forever with me, and you’re questioning if I love you?” 

“I just wanted to hear you say it again.” His lips brushed yours ever so slightly. 

“I love you, Eddie Munson” 

“I love you, little Witch.”

You let down your guard, the magic swirled in flecks of silver and gold light around the two of you as you lay on top of Eddie’s chest. His eyes widen at the sight above him. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever encountered. 

“Woah” he gasped, awestruck at the floating lights. “I think I could get used to this magic thing”

You let out a breath you weren’t aware you were holding. Like a weight was lifted once you heard Eddie’s acceptance. Finally, you felt hopeful about your future. 

It’s been a week and a half since your confession to Eddie and things are going surprisingly well. His fascination is ever-growing as he keeps coming up with questions to ask you. The nature of your reality was sinking in, he was enamoured with the thought of you being supernatural. He wanted to learn, and you were happy to teach you were happy he accepted you for who you are and not pushing you away from fear. 

You hadn’t brought up the offer since that night, you were waiting for him to let you know his decision,  but you were hopeful because of his fascination. 

Today was a lazy day, you both have the rare day off at the same time, so Eddie was over and you were cuddling on the couch when he spoke up.

“I want to do it.”

“Do what, babe?”

“Forever with you.”

“Really?” a broad smile spreads across your face. nothing could keep you from your eyes turning yellow. 

Eddie still wasn’t quite used to all your magical quirks. However, he loved that your true mood could be read just by looking into your eyes. He loved learning what each colour meant, especially when they were red. 

“Really.” Eddie gave you a chaste kiss before pulling away to ask how the whole spell thing worked. 

“I think you’re going to like it.” You smirk knowingly.

Sometime later, you were finally finished downstairs in your altar room. The circle of protection chalked on the floor. The muddled herbs, bark and flowers boiled down into a paste, and your grimour propped open onto the spell you needed. 

The room was only lit by candlelight, twenty or so, spread across the room. 

You reach for Eddie’s hand and guide him down the stairs. 

“You must be sure this is one hundred percent what you want. It will not work if you are not willing to give up your mortality.”

“I’ve never been so sure about anyone.” 

“Okay, let us begin” You smirk, knowing Eddie has no idea what he is getting himself into. 

“Strip, please” 

“Oh,” he raises a brow. Then he sees it. Your red eyes. “Ohhh” He quickly discards his clothing. 

You watch as his cock is already stiffening. 

“Now be a good boy and step into the circle and lay down,” you ask while also discarding your garments. 

Eddie quickly obeys your orders. 

“Would you like me to explain the steps before or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“Will it hurt?”

“No” 

“Surprise me.” Eddie didn’t think his cock could be any harder. The anticipation was foreplay enough. 

You begin the ritual with a deep breath, stepping into the circle with your crystal bowl you straddle Eddie. You scoop the paste you created and create sigils over eddies chest with them while chanting in a language Eddie didn’t recognize. 

“Fata, cape hoc humanum meum scrinium amoris. Immortalis est sicut ego. Meus amor, mea lux. Vitam aeternam tribuo ei. Da ei eterinty.” 

Your hips start to gride on Eddie’s as you get lost in the chant. Your magic starts to take over your body as you get lost in all of it. The feeling, the love, the magic. Your red eyes were now glowing pure white. Eddie gazed up at you in awe as you continued chanting. He was not sure if you were still here with him or if something had taken over your body. 

“Fuck.” Eddie slips and your hand covers his mouth before your pussy slips his cock inside. 

Possessed by the magic you were channelling, your body performs the spell. The faster you chanted, the faster you fucked Eddie. 

Sex with you had been amazing, but nothing had compared to this. He loved the thrill of this, there was no way he would change his mind.

Eddie tried to tell you he was going to come, unsure if he was allowed to yet. But your hand still muffled his mouth.

You felt him deep in your gut, His thick cock stretching your walls, hitting every spot you needed. Euphoria was essential to the spell and Eddie sure was holding up his end of it. 

You heard muffled mumbles come for Eddie and you released your hand from his mouth. You were so far into the chanting that you couldn’t be stopped now even if Eddie tried to interrupt. 

“Fata, cape hoc humanum meum scrinium amoris. Immortalis est sicut ego. Meus amor, mea lux. Vitam aeternam tribuo ei. Da ei eterinty. Fata, cape hoc humanum meum scrinium amoris. Immortalis est sicut ego. Meus amor, mea lux. Vitam aeternam tribuo ei. Da ei eterinty.” 

Eddie thinks those words will be etched into his memory forever. 

His hands roam your body before planting them on your hips. He couldn’t help himself he had to have it harder. Planting his feet on the ground, Eddie snaps his hips up into you, meeting your pace. The wet sounds of skin-on-skin echo through the basement walls, faster and faster, louder and louder. Your voice trumps the delicious sounds of sex, and then it hits you both. Your mind-numbing, explosive orgasms rip through each of you. Your bodies shake, and you let out a loud cry of pure bliss.

A blinding white light fills the room, blowing out all the candles you lit before they relate themselves. You collapse on top of Eddie, exhausted by the amount of magic youve performed. 

Breathless you and Eddie stay connected. 

“It is done?” Eddie asks in a daze, not sure if he is supposed to feel any different. 

Without enough energy to speak, you nod your head against Eddie’s chest. 

“You’re incredible, little Witch.”  and that is the last thing you remember before falling asleep. 

You wake up, your cheek cemented to Eddie’s tattoo-clad chest. 

“There she is.” Eddie storks your hair. 

“How long was I out?” you mumble, rubbing the sleep from our eyes. 

“An hour, I can only guess.” 

Eddie shifted and you felt him still inside of you so you grind your soar hips so he slips further in.

“You’re a succubus.” 

“You wish” You kiss his neck. “How do you feel?” 

“Like I could move a mountian.” Eddie sighs as you grind down on him, cock growing with each push. 

“Mmmm, good” you hum. 

Eddie could no longer take it, even though he had the best orgasm of his life an hour ago, you were like a drug to him. He wanted more. 

Flipping you around so you are on your back, Eddie spreads your legs further apart, watching how his cock buried deep within you.

You admire the now permanent sigil etched into his skin like a tattoo. You didn’t even know if Eddie was aware of the new ink that came with forever existence, but that all gets erased when his hips jerk so deeply within you that your eyes turn a colour Eddie has never seen before. The most beautiful deep purple. 

“Baby" you moan. 

“Fuck, little Witch,” you can’t help but clamp down on him. 

“Oh you like that don’t you, Sorceress.” 

“Y-yes” you tremble.” 

Eddie can’t believe how powerful he feels; you’ve granted him this gift and he needs to show his appreciation in return. 

He pulls out, and you plead, but not for long because he buries his face between your legs. Your sweet slick coats his tongue as it dances around your clit. 

“More” You plead. Your hips gride down on his chin, and the stubble on his cheeks scrapes your inner thighs. 

“I’ll give you anything you want.” He was yours to serve. His tounge swirls around your extra sensitive clit.

“Make me cum.” 

A wave of pleasure hits you hard when Eddie pushes his cock back inside your needy cunt. With each thrust, he works himself through your orgasm, making your head spin; wave after wave consumes your body. You feel his hands graze your nipples, tweaking them and making you clench down on him even tighter. 

With Eddie’s head thrown back, sweat dripping down his chest glittering the candle light he looked like a deity. 

After one more final thrust Eddie collapses on top of you. 

“That was amazing.” He nuzzles into your neck and you can’t help but agree. 

When Eddie finally pulls out, you feel a rush of release come out with him. 

“You’re a messy little Witch, aren’t you?”

“Me?” 

“Yes” he slips a finger through your slit collecting your combined cum and you jerk away, your cunt all so sensitive. 

“Well, you’re the one who asked for it” you smirk. 

“I would be an idiot to deny being with you like this for eternity”

“You think so?” 

“Know so.”

tags : @ghostlyfleur @veemoon @abitchyouhate @thewayitalknj @mediocredreams @deadlynightshade-and-hyacinth @daisy-munson @strawberrycheesecakedelight @just-random-thoughts-and-things @oneforthemunny @gagasbee @abirdinthehouse @saintlvcifer @hauntedfawnn @eerielamb @munson-blurbs @hellfire--cult @andvys @pollenallergie

[prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue]

WEEPING WILLOW

summary: alternative universe where die young reader lived and actually met her siblings yet still she meets her end even in another universe.

Time never stops, nor does the world yet, whenever I peer back at your picture name , I feel like time has for you. You still look youthful , still vibrant as if the world's cruelties haven't touched you yet. Haven't gutted you out and left you for nothing.

For the first time in twelve years, I visited that tree you were so insistent on seeing that day . It's an old willow that overlooks a sea - straight out of a picture book like the ones you always read before you sleep.

Home doesn't feel like home anymore name , not without you here anymore . It feels empty and cold without you. Big brother Dick has yet to visit Gotham , his last visit was your own funeral.

Your other older brother Jason started getting violent again every patrol , he beats up criminals so bloody they practically flee. Tim hasn't said much , he's been so quiet, and he just floats around now . Damian took your death the hardest .

He sleeps in your bed every night , wailing to himself about it. Barbra and Stephanie are trying to keep the family afloat, but they know deep down we're cracking. Duke stopped playing hockey - he says it feels so wrong to not when your not there to throw the puck back at him.

Alfred started back drinking and smoking - we hear him in dead of night sobbing and pleading for you to come back home. Bruce stopped living - he barely eats , sleeps , he barely does anything . Every day, he visits your grave , flowers in hand, and just wails about everything.

Again, the willow tree on that hill just sways to the beat of the calm breeze , as if time doesn't affect it. No one would ever understand why on that Sunday you went to that willow tree alone .

No one would understand why you hugged us all so hard before you had set off . No one will ever understand why your body was found laying on the bark of the tree so lifeless and cold .

We will never understand why you choose to go by yourself - why not go with us around you. Uncle Clark told Bruce, " Name was always a kind child , she didn't want you all to have the last memory of her to be sad sad." Your dad punched him in the face - he had argued , " my child didn't have to go through death by herself!" .

We would never know why - it's not like you're here anymore to tell us to comfort us. Long gone with the Friday nights, we all stayed up past 4 A.M. , all ganging up on Bruce and Tim in monopoly, Dick always quick to tackle Tim to the floor because he swears he robbed him of $100.

Gone were the days we'd all make bets if Damian was going to walk in with a new stray to his name and watch him and Bruce go back and forth on it. It feels like yesterday when Barbra , Steph and Cass took you to sephora and convinced you to buy that one overpriced lipstick. It's still sat on your nightstand idly.

Gone were the late nights , Jason and you would have snuck out late to drive around Gotham on his motorbike and stop by Dairy Queen. Gone were the quiet evenings spent with you and Tim building a castle on ya'lls minecraft base.

Gone were the days you and Damian would argue when you would both try to build legoes and would fail miserably . Alfred misses the times where you use to join him in attempting to cook - god knows the evidence of your attempt to fry an egg is still stuck on the ceiling.

Bruce misses your hugs the most - you were the only child he had that actively hugged him, and he missed the way how after patrols you always made him hot chocolate .

Nothing feels right - never will because you're not here . It feels wrong to walk these halls, knowing you would have walked them too . It's weird living knowing you could have been living - breathing along with them.

It feels like no matter what universe we have you in , you always leave, and it always hurts. Why must in every universe you leave us behind ? Why must every other universe does God have to take you away ?

Why must in every universe we always mourn you ? It hurts - it hurts so much to watch your body be covered in soil . No one talks about how you practically hold your breath when you see your loved one go down in that grave as if - by some miracle, they'd open their eyes and jolt out the grave. It sounds so ridiculous, but they'd never get that desperation of wanting that loved one to be alive.

It hurts when we hear about the rumors - the rumors that you killed yourself ? That you went to the willow tree to end your life ? Bruce had practically went raging mad that evening when he got word - that same night, the entire PR team got to work into suing those persons.

Some suspected you got possessed because you had sold your sold your soul off - that's why you hugged us all before you left - you didn't want the demon to follow the family back home. It was a stupid rumor going around in school, and Damian had practically beat the shit out of the senior who started it.

Some said we abused you - that had Alfred cursing them out because how dare they - you were loved in this family and still very much loved even though you are long gone.

No one would know , not even we will - all we know was one Sunday evening . Dinner was being set up when Bruce got a call from Comissioner Gordon , " Two passerbys reported seeing your daughter laid unresponsive atop Willow Hills" .

Bruce dropped everything in that moment and immediately bolted to that willow tree , the others running behind him . He didn't wanna believe it - wants to believe you're just asleep - had just accidentally dozed off and lost track of time because there was no way in hell his 15 year old daughter is dead.

When the others reached him , they just saw him embracing you and crying his heart out . You were long gone , had long passed away without them, and none of them knew how to handle that reality .

We miss you name , please come home , we need you back .

▬▬ Wayne Family

Taglist ▬▬

@itsmossy @sugarrush-blush @shirp-collector-of-fixations @anteroz @cxcilla @shynerdtriumph @amber-content @azulesworld @1abi @crazycaoticsimp

ty for reading <3

[cinnamongrl2006]

♱ Knight!Simon Riley x Princess!Reader (part 2) ♱ part 1 | part 2 | part 3

a/n: I'm so, so happy you guys liked part one! I tried my best to do it justice! Thank you all for the kind messages :) Also, should I do knight Jason Todd?? or, or knight John Price? I feel like I should mention I have not played modern warfare in sooo long, like since my ps3 broke (two-ish years ago!!). Ugh I'm so in love with knight Simon Riley!!

contents: a ton of fluff, lil bit of angst (I refuse to make my characters suffer too much, they deserve the world!!), allusion to sex but nothing specific or graphic.

For a couple months your illicit affairs with Simon became more frequent, your love for each other already confessed, feelings running wild like horses.

You'd gotten used to his touch, his fingertips on your cheeks, arms, thighs; his calloused hands so gentle with your soft skin, his touch almost reverent. His lips kissing every freckle and mark on your skin, slowly, as if to memorize them.

♱ Knight!Simon Riley whose heart broke the moment you broke the news to him: you'd been engaged to a prince from a foreign land, he'd come to the castle soon, live with you before the wedding eventually happened. You stood in the yard, under the weeping willow, in your place, when you told him. His mask was off, guard down, rough hands under the fabric of your dress. Your eyebrows knit with worry, tears brimming your eyes as you spoke.

You told him how you loved him and no other, his jaw tight, gaze cold with jealousy, envy of the lucky prince who would not know how to treat you right.

"I promise, Si. I'd marry you in a heartbeat, you know that!" You sobbed into his shirt, tears staining the fabric.

"I know, sweetheart, but we can't." You could hear the pain in his voice.

It had taken him so long to feel such a connection with anyone, and now that he'd found the one he couldn't keep her.

Your daily rendezvous became far more passionate and longer, you'd miss dinner, tell your mother Ghost took you riding— not entirely a lie— that was why your hair was tousled, skirt and tights askew and cheeks flushed red. Your mother just smiled and waved you away, clueless and careless.

You were aware that living in a castle, being next in line to rule, not having to lift a finger ever sounded like a good thing, but God, how you loathed the court. You'd confided in Simon once, told him that you felt out of place, like the black sheep. That you'd love to have an actual family, one that eats meals together, with people that talk to each other, love each other. He dreamt of providing that for you.

The harshness of your situation weighed heavy on Simon's shoulders, you could see it in the way his eyes barely held your gaze anymore, moving to look at the trees, a painting on a wall, the ground. You could feel it in the way he touched you, like he knew he had to let you go, but couldn't: his fingers holding onto your flesh roughly.

♱ Knight!Simon Riley who was surprised (pleasantly so) when a couple weeks later you told him you'd run away with him.

"I've got it all planned out, horses food, an alibi...I swear, we can do it. We have to, before the prince gets here and I get no chance to."

"Honey—" he breathed.

"I mean it, I told the stable boy and a couple of the guards. I had to bribe them, something about sworn loyalty for my father— anyway, we can leave tonight, it's all ready."

Simon would walk through fire just to see your eyes again, he'd jump off a cliff if it meant he'd see you smile; so that night he meets you by the stables, a cloth bag with some of his belongings in it—clothes, weapons, a wad of cash— slung over his shoulder.

You stand by your horse, your dress tied up above your knees for easy mobility, hair down. There's a fire in your eyes he doesn't think he's ever seen before, and it makes the blood in his body rush south, heat pool in his stomach. Your own bag is slung over your shoulder, your foot taps against the floor with urgency.

"Ready?" You mutter, keeping your volume low.

He walked over to you, nodded curtly before he wrapped his arms around you.

"If we do this, there's no turning back." You warned him.

"I've got nothing here, no family, no past. You should be the one thinking about what they're loosing, my love."

"I can't do that. We have to go."

♱ Knight!Simon Riley who feels a sense of pride at how much you trust him, at how you left it all behind— the crown, the court, the comfort, your family, although you'd said time and time again you'd leave them if you could.

♱ Knight!Simon Riley who gets you to a cabin in the woods that belonged to a friend of his, a lumberjack, who no longer used it. He laid you down on the bed, pushed the covers over your body and kissed your forehead before he unpacked your bags and lit a fire on the fireplace. Once he saw fit, he laid down beside you, his arms around your body, his lips pressed to your skin.

He knew the worries would come in the morning, the fear of getting caught, the shame, the tears; and then the relief, that of finally being able to be together and love loudly.

────୨ৎ────

@foxintheferns this is for u my dear!!! and for the anons that asked me to please write a part two lol

Requests are open!!

[borathae]

Kiss the Cook

“Yoongi loves to cook for you. You love to watch him as he does and soon you can’t take it anymore. You have to kiss him or you will implode.”

Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Slice of Life, domestic Fluff

Warnings: cutie!Yoongi, Yoongi being a sexy cook, i said what i said, he blushes!, she feeds him some tangerines <3, as she sits on the kitchen counter, making out on said counter, Yoongi in a woolen jumper, idk but this is so hot to me and therefore needs a warning, they’re grossly in love!!!, i want what they have #bigsad

Wordcount: 2.7k

a/n: i love him, i love them, i love her, i love this :( enjoy besties, oy!Yoongi is going to be the fucking death of me fjdjasf he is such a cutie ❤ ps: does a story sometimes make you feel so single or discontent with your current love life that you want to claw your own eyes out? yeah. this is that story for me. i want what they have fuxkxk they feel so mature and settled and :( grrr spreading negativity all around me grrrr

You invited Yoongi over for dinner and wine. Which means that he comes over to your place to cook while you watch him and sip on wine. Now, this isn’t because you are lazy or you are forcing him to cook. On the contrary, it was Yoongi’s idea. He loves cooking for you, so you learned, and these little dinner dates have become a regular thing in your relationship.

And it is perfect. You get to see him and talk to him. He gets to do something he loves whilst talking to you. And at the end of it, you can share the yummiest dinner ever and experience a giddy tingle in your stomachs.

You invited him over tonight for exactly such a dinner date. You dressed up in a thick jumper and some woolen socks and even did your hair.

It has been snowing rather vividly all day, turning the roads into one powdery white plane with the rest of the world. The weeping willow in front of your sunroom is bending under the weight of the snow and the frozen stream is covered under a heavy layer of it as well. It is such a beautiful view, making you happy to be inside where it is warm and cozy.

Levi, your cute little cat, hasn’t left his spot by the fireplace all day. He spends most of his winter days napping where it is warm or watching the very few winter birds eat from your bird feeder. He will not leave for outside, however, that much is sure. It is way too much work to soil his good fur with sticky, wet snow.

You check the time again. Ten past eight. Yoongi should have been here by eight. You pace in front the sunroom windows, looking at the faint lights where his house might be. He decorated the outside with lots of Christmas lights and on the nights where you miss him, you like to stand in the sunroom and look up at the lights. Whenever you do, it feels as if he was right there with you. 

Tonight however, the view makes you uneasy. Where is Yoongi and why isn’t he here yet? Did he slip and hit his head? Did a huge chunk of snow fall on him and he is now buried alive somewhere? Is he stuck somewhere? Did he forget?

Nervously biting your own nails, you hurry to the front door to take another peek outside. 

“Oh, shit!” Yoongi exclaims, stumbling back and almost dropping the grocery bags he is carrying under his arms.

You flinch back too, not having expected him to literally stand right in front of the door in the midst of ringing your bell.

“Sorry, you scared me”, he apologises for his cursing. He is bundled into the thickest winter coat ever, wearing a beanie, scarf and gloves with it. His snow pants are covered in snow up to his thighs, his winter boots are basically white from all the snow. The last few inches of his coat are opened. Holly, wearing a little beanie as well, is peeking out from it. Yoongi must have bundled him up in it to keep him warm. The view is adorable.

“You scared me too. I wanted to check if I could spot you. Come in”, you say, stepping out of the doorway.

“Yeah, sorry for being late. I underestimated the height of the snow. I had to fight my way down here without falling on my butt. I waddled like I was ninety.” 

“No worries, I’m just so happy that you’re here now and that you’re safe. I already pictured the worst scenarios ever.” 

Yoongi chuckles, “I survived. Barely, but I survived.”

You laugh. He is so funny, making you laugh again when he struggles with undressing.

“Wait. Let me take the bags so you have your hands free.”

“Thanks.” 

“Of course, I’ll carry them to the kitchen if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead, I’ll be with you soon.”

You are in the midst of unpacking the groceries when Yoongi and Holly join you in the kitchen. Holly greets you first, jumping up your leg and barking excitedly. 

You coo, picking him up to let him lick your face. 

“I missed you too, you little stinker. Aw big kissies, yes big kissies.”

“He really missed you”, Yoongi says, walking to you. 

“Yeah, I missed him too.” You hand him Holly. “And I missed his dad even more. Hey there, handsome”, you say, stealing a kiss. 

Yoongi smiles into it, rubbing your waist as the kiss breaks.

“Hey there, beautiful. I missed you too.” He says and then takes a step back to set down Holly. The little toy poodle instantly sets off to explore your home and look for Levi. 

Yoongi studies your get-up, “I love what you did with your hair. It suits you.”

“Thank you, heh. I tried something new.”

“It’s nice, really beautiful.”

“Thankies. Uhm, wine?” You offer. “I might have already started without you because I was picturing you dying somewhere.”

He laughs, “what a relaxing thing to do. I won’t say no to some wine, thank you.”

You prepare him a glass, then cheer with him. He enjoys it with a hum. Afterwards he touches your hip and kisses your cheek. You lean into it, smiling from ear to ear. He is always so gentle with you. You love it so much.

“I hope that you’re hungry. I’m making risotto tonight”, Yoongi says.

“Yes risotto! I love risotto. I haven’t eaten since twelve because I wanted to be really hungry tonight.” 

Yoongi smiles and begins. He puts on the apron you made for him and rolls up his sleeves. Well, at least he tries to because you stop him before he can.

“Wait, let me.”

He gazes at your face as you work, cheeks slightly flushed and heart racing. 

“Thanks”, he whispers, trying oh so hard not to expose how giddy he actually feels. Spoiler alert, he feels very giddy. You are always so tender with him. He loves it so much.

Yoongi is wearing a brown jumper made out of the softest wool. It is warm and sits on his body in the most perfect of ways. His chest and back are defined in it, but he still looks snuggly. You feel so attracted to him that it is difficult not to bite him. In an adoring way of course. 

It also isn’t helping that he is wearing your favourite cologne and a watch which really fits his wrist. Once his sleeves are rolled up, you can’t help but feel up his arms just once. You trace his veins, squeeze him and play with his fingers.

Yoongi chuckles lazily, closing his hands around yours.

“Is this still part of the service?” 

“No, this was for me. You look really sexy in this jumper.”

He smiles and pulls you close to steal a kiss. You give it to him with a fluttering heart, gazing deep into his eyes once it breaks. He has the most beautiful eyes.

“I put it on for you. Because you once said that you like me in a jumper.”

“I do. I could bite you, I’m serious.”

“Please don’t”, he laughs and pecks your cheek, “I’ll be quick with dinner, promise. No biting needs to happen.”

“Maybe a little bit of biting.”

He laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“If I knew that I would be dating a biter, I might have reconsidered”, he jokes, busy with setting up some pans.

“You like it. Don’t lie”, you say and sit down on the kitchen counter.

“Maybe I do.”

You snicker, picking up a tangerine to peel it as he cooks.

And so it begins. One of the coziest and most beloved date activity as a couple. He cooks while you watch him. There are only a few things better than this. 

You have the radio playing. Christmas songs because it is almost time for the holidays. The tangerine fills the air with a cozy scent and the wine tastes especially good. Whenever you and he aren’t lost in conversation, you can listen to Yoongi hum to the songs on the radio. He has a very nice singing voice. Deep and warm. You could listen to it for hours. Just as you could listen to him talk for hours.

“How are your legs by the way? Did the snow soak through your snow pants?” you ask him, staring at his butt. 

It isn’t your fault, he is wiggling it to the music. It is his fault that you have to take a sneaky look.

“Mhm? No, my legs are fine. The snow didn’t soak through.”

“That’s good to hear. How was your day?”

“It was good. I fixed some things in the upstairs bathroom and started with the chaulking.”

Yoongi is still renovating his house. It is a very big project and he isn’t stressing himself, so it’s been taking some time already. You don’t mind. It just means that he will have to stay over more often whenever the building site is too dirty. Quite frankly, a part of you secretly wishes for the renovations to take forever just so he will keep coming over to sleep in your bed. You really love having him sleep in your bed. Not only because he is a total cuddlebug (don’t spread these news to anyone, he is very shy about it) or because he always smells so good, but also because you feel safer with him close. 

“Chaulking? Wow, this sounds like process”, you say.

“Yeah, it’s been going really well lately.” He turns for a moment. “And you? Did you have a good day?”

“I had a really good day. I made some progress on the scarf and then did some yoga. Tangerine?” 

Yoongi closes the distance, snacking on the slice you’re offering.

“This sounds like a good day. You have to be finished soon, don’t you?”

“Yeah, it's almost finished, which is very exciting if you asked me.”

You are currently knitting a scarf and have been regularly sending updates to Yoongi via text messages. His reactions to the messages vary from “good job!” all the way to the very rare and precious thumbs up emoji. He is honestly such a cutie.

“I can imagine. Do you have a new project in mind after you finish the scarf?” Yoongi takes one more slice of tangerine before he returns to the stove. 

While you begin telling him about all the knitting project ideas you have. You don’t leave out any details. The material of the yarn, the design, the colours, even what kind of stitches you plan on using. And Yoongi listens gladly, he asks questions and reacts with his very endearing version of enthusiasm. It means so much to you. Being loved by him is so fulfilling. You feel so important, as if your existence has purpose. There is not one thing about you which isn’t important to him or which you feel like you have to hide from him.

It might sound strange, but being loved by him is so freeing. You feel so whole and so happy and you love him so much in return. 

Yoongi steals one more slice of tangerine, staying close to you afterwards as he slices some mushrooms for the risotto.

“And what about you? Any new music projects you are working on?” you ask him, switching your adoring gaze between his face and his hands. He has such sexy hands.

“Yes, so many”, he says, nodding his head.

“Tell me everything.”

You listen to everything he has to tell you, gazing at him with the biggest heart eyes. He is so interesting and exciting. His hobbies are so wonderful to listen to. As much as you love talking to him, you love listening just as much.

Yoongi feels content with you. He feels utterly and completely happy. There is nothing missing with you. When he is with you, he feels whole and like himself. There is not even the littlest thing about him he feels like he has to hide from you and whenever he comes out of one of his accidental monologues about his interests, he isn’t met with boredom but enthusiasm and questions. Truly, his nerdy little heart swells thrice its size when he is with you. 

A moment of silence follows after you and he exchanged interests. Happy and jazzy Christmas music fills it. Yoongi picks up the cutting board, carrying it to the pan so he can sauté the mushrooms in some butter. He adds the rice afterwards, seasoning it before he pours white wine into the pan. He pours some of the wine in his glass afterwards, closing the distance to clink glasses with you. 

“To this evening”, he says, smiling one of his pretty, soft smiles he always does.

“To this evening and to you, the best boyfriend ever.” 

“Be quiet”, he mumbles and drinks from his glass, looking to the side shyly. He blushes.

“Never. You need to know”, you say and lean in to munch on his cheek. 

“Hey. No biting”, he laughs as he complains, moving back. 

“Mhm, then how about I kiss the cook instead?” you say, setting the wine aside to pull him closer.

He lets you tug him between your legs, smiling at you and setting the wine aside. His eyes fall to your lips, his hands dance along a path which consists of your waist, hips and the side of your thighs.

“You’ve got a minute before I have to get back to the risotto”, he says.

“Then let me make the best of it”, you say, pulling him into a kiss. 

How you make the best of this one minute. You kiss him as if you missed him for a million years, as if you needed him for survival, as if his lips are all you ever wished for. It might only be a minute, but Yoongi comes out of this kiss with slightly wobbly knees and a racing heart. His cheeks are flushed, his lower lip tingles as you end the kiss by biting on it gently. 

“What was that for?” his voice is raspy, his eyes foggy as they gaze at your lips.

“Just felt like it”, you whisper, playing with his soft hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Should we like, I don’t know, should I remove the pan from the stove for a moment?” 

You laugh, scrunching your nose. You know what he is insinuating, stomach tingling at the aspect of it.

“And why should you do that?” you tease him, tinting his cheeks an even deeper pink. He curses under his breath, giving your hips a gentle squeeze.

“You drive me crazy, you know. First kissing me like this and then acting innocent.”

“Shouldn’t you check on the rice?”

Yoongi lets out a whine of discontent, but breaks away from you to stir the rice. He glances at you. You retort the glances, heart racing like crazy. His hair is a little messy because you played with it as you kissed him. His lips are slightly puffy and flushed pink. Quite frankly, he has never looked more attractive than he does right now in your little kitchen wearing the black apron you made for him as he cooks you dinner and seems just a little ruffled from your kiss. 

You lift the glass of wine to your equally as puffy lips, giving him an eye smile as you sip the sweet alcohol. Yoongi blushes, shifting his gaze to dinner. He rolls his lower lip between his teeth mindlessly while his hands are busy with pouring chicken stock over the rice. 

You and he both feel the electric sparkles in the air. The feeling is addicting, just as it is addicting to spend time with each other. You just work so well together, you are so right. 

“You know”, you begin.

“Yes, baby?” he answers you, voice warm and caring.

“I love having you over.” 

He glances again. His eyes sparkle, his teeth show in the shiest of smiles.

“I can look at you, I get to listen to you and talk to you. I love it.”

“Yeah, I love it too.”

“And I get to kiss you. It’s pretty awesome.”

He looks at your lips, raising your pulse with it.

“You know. I, theoretically, have one minute again”, he says, giving you puppy eyes.

You laugh because you love when he flirts. You set the wine aside, making grabby hands at him.

“Then come here and make it count.”

Yoongi sets the spoon aside, closing the distance. How he is going to make it count.

[carminechrollo]

EPITOME OF SIN

zhongli, neuvillette x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: Neuvillette doesn’t know why he agreed to such a brazen proposal from his lover—that is, to sit and watch while the ex-Geo Archon shamelessly takes you for his pleasure.

CONTENT WARNING: smut (mdni), porn without plot, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, cuckolding (neuvillette), masturbation (neuvillette), pet names, established relationship with zhongli, not beta read.

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

NOTES: this is a repost from my old blog! pls bear with me as i try to write new content ^^ for now, enjoy !! :3

Neuvillette always saw himself as a calm, and collected man; lilac gaze mirroring the cerulean tranquil waters of the Weeping Willow of the Lake—he was never the one to unnecessarily raise his voice nor show the expression of anger. At least that’s what his lover, you, had said to him from one’s astute observation.

So why was the Chief Justice the complete opposite right this very moment? Heart thrumming against his chest like the speed of the harsh winds in Loch Urania; blood boiling like hot vermillion lava from the volcanos of Natlan, Neuvillette seethed at the wickedly sinful sight in front of him—teeth clenched, nails digging into the poor azure fabric of the sofa beneath him.

Your lover was painted crimson red, not knowing if it stemmed from anger, embarrassment, or lust.

Anger, because Neuvillette didn’t know why he had agreed to such an insane proposal. Though, insane was an understatement. He surveyed your sweat-covered naked body, rocking back and forth, back and forth from the forceful thrusts of another man—the geo archon. Rex lapis, Morax, Deus Auri, the usurper of the element of stone. He should be the only man sheathed beyond your walls so intimately; he should be the one pulling those saccharine moans from your soft lips; he should be the sole reason for your immense pleasure.

Embarrassment, because Neuvillette was too turned on at the sight before him to admit—though, his cock pushing against the navy slacks he donned was more than a telling sign. He was ashamed, felt absolutely filthy for getting aroused at such an outlandish sight.

There were so many things wrong here and, yet Neuvillette had the audacity to be horny; he would give himself the heaviest sentence in the history of Fontaine, for heaven’s sake.

The Iudex could feel his skin prickle, diminutive sharp kisses shooting all over his heated skin, fingers wanting to claw at the unbearable itch it left behind. He felt feverish but he couldn’t take his lilac gaze away from tracing your bare body—the way it responded to the heavenly pleasure Zhongli gave.

Lust, because at the end of the day—dragon or not—Neuvillette’s body responded the same way as a human’s body would when exposed to a sexual stimuli.

The Chief Justice practically gawked at his dear lover and Zhongli on the bed; mouth slightly parted, tongue ever so lightly swiping at his bottom lip in effort to satiate his growing thirst.

All Neuvillette could hear were your dulcet moans reverberating throughout his cerulean-walled quarters, the way your pretty eyes rolled back in pure bliss; brows knitted in full concentration on your impending orgasm. Oh, Neuvillette wanted to be desperately inside you but all he could do was sit there.

Sit there and watch as Zhongli sinfully fucked you with enough drive to vex your lover. Outside, the people in the Court of Fontaine began to scramble for shelter at the first signs of water droplets beginning to fall from the azure sky; grey clouds looming over the Nation of Many Waters as it prepares for a downpour.

“Hydro dragon, Hydro dragon, don’t cry.”

Zhongli brazenly teases with a strained voice, his amber eyes glowing like gold, piercing right through Neuvillette. The latter lets out a firm sigh, nails digging further into the softness of the seat.

“Please, don’t hold yourself back, Monsieur. We’re all here to have fun, aren’t we?” the dark-haired man continues before repositioning your naked body. Zhongli hauls you up like a rag doll, both arms secured behind your back with his hand while the other makes its way to the strands on your head.

He faced you towards Neuvillette—who sat there with blown pupils, holding onto the last piece of his sanity and reputation—before pounding into you again; balls slapping against your soaked entrance with every forceful thrust.

Letting out a sweet whimper, you stare starry-eyed at your lover as his hand wanders down to the apex of his legs.

Zhongli clicks his tongue as he feels you clenching around his hard cock, and holds you against his sweaty chest, changing the angle of his thrusts. “O-Oh god!” you moan out as his tip kisses the saccharine spot within your velvety walls, shocks of icy pleasure caressing your spine.

If it wasn’t for Zhongli’s hold, you would have fallen onto the mattress from the sheer strength of his thrusts and the pleasure alone.

The divine man behind you growls, lips situated dangerously close to your ear, “Yeah . . ? that’s right I’m your god.” Zhongli growls, loud enough for the Hydro Sovereign to hear, his tone unrecognisable—it was a far cry from the usual smoothness of his voice.

The ivory-haired man mirrored Zhongli’s growls yet it didn’t contain the same carnal hunger as the latter, no, it was pure rage.

White, hot anger seethed from Neuvillette’s sitting figure as Zhongli spoke that very sentence, what a disgrace.

The Chief Justice sat there, every fibre of his body tingling and burning with silent chaos—like the calm before a thunderous storm, serene yet brimming with such force. You vigorously nod at Zhongli’s retort, even going as far as trying to form your own coherent reply only to come out in a twist of saccharine moans.

There was no hiding the rapid rise and fall of Neuvillette’s chest despite the expensive layers of cerulean fabric he donned.

The sensation was too overwhelming for him, pressure uncomfortably pressed on every dip and curve of his body to the point where he couldn’t feel anything—no, he could feel everything.

Everything at once and it drove the Iudex absolutely insane. The jealousy, the lust, the embarrassment, it weaved its way down to his very core. Neuvillette didn’t know what he wanted to do, all your lover knew was that he needed a release. Now.

Neuvillette uncomfortably shuffled atop the plush of the cerulean sofa, delicate hands moving as fast as the lightnings that scattered throughout Inazuman waters.

It was beyond shameful to be acting this way, his fingers fumbling the metal zipper of his slacks. Before you knew it, your’s and Zhongli’s moans were accompanied by Neuvillette’s sinful ones—he didn’t hold back, almost as if he had completely let go of himself, his reputation, his standing with the Lord of Geo.

The Iudex of Fontaine was reduced to nothing but a common whore, shamelessly filling the walls of his own quarters with brazen moans beyond his control.

It was a sight to see.

Too bad the intense jolting of your naked body from Zhongli’s forceful thrusts were getting in the way from being able to properly see your lover’s fucked out expression but the desperate strokes of his hand was enough for you—enough to let you know that Neuvillette somewhat found pleasure in this despite the bizarreness of it.

He moaned, and grunted your name into the heights of the ceiling like there was no tomorrow; you’ve never seen him like this before—always the modest sighs and grunts whenever you had sex with him but nothing more.

Neuvillette’s body was feverish, millions of tiny prickles spreading like wildfire as he stroked and stroked at his hard cock, hoping to finally reach that sweet release with you.

You moaned, a messy mix of both their names, earning a sharp hiss from the two males as they sucked in a sharp breath.

“I-I’m close. . Fuck . . !” “That’s it my sweet girl. Show your lover how good I’ll make you cum.” Zhongli whispers, licking a long stripe up the side of your sweaty neck, golden gaze locked onto Neuvillette’s, taunting him.

If it weren’t for the pleasure he was chasing this very moment, Neuvillette wouldn’t have thought twice before pulling you off the archon but his legs were trembling with icy bliss, unable to even take a few steps.

As if on cue, you clamp your walls around Zhongli’s cock, letting out a lewd sound before cumming. Your naked body hardened with pleasure, teeth gritting and digits curling as waves of bliss ran through your veins.

You couldn’t even hear Zhongli’s velvety praises as you came, the next thing you knew was that your moans became muffled—your face harshly coming into contact with the ivory sheets beneath as Zhongli pushed your head down to sinfully arch your back even more. He gave a couple more thrusts before pulling out and fisting his cock above your exhausted form, shooting endless ropes of hot cum onto your back as he moaned your name.

To his dismay, Neuvillette was the last to cum which meant you and Zhongli were able to see his current state in all its glory—all flushed and sweaty from desperately fisting his cock, moaning your name out with such need like he was a dragon in heat.

Hot cum coated his pale fingers, he sat there, cock still hard and catching his breath. Neuvillette had his eyes solely on you, like a quiet predator sizing up its main course for the night.

Maybe Neuvillette should show the Lord of Geo how to actually fuck you dirty until you and him were the epitome of sin.

[yeonmuse]

CHROME HEARTS ──but I break them still

❪ CHROME HEARTS ❫ nishimura riki & fem!rea 1.5k w.c ⋆♱✮ fluff/angst ༯ university au ꫂ ၴႅၴ synopsis──★˙nainais library !! @k-films

℘an᭪ : written w tweets at the end of the chapter, (perm list still open, but only 3 slots open for this series taglist)

CHAPTER 8 | wait a minute

Friday, a day which most of your peers spent skipping classes or celebrating the upcoming weekend, the day most anticipated by many college students because Friday meant no classes the next morning, no assignments to stress over, and most of all no waking up early. Most people would push off their work until the last minute and scramble to get it done when the time to turn them in had finally come, yet here you were, sitting beneath the old willow tree in the courtyard lap full of crumpled sheets of sketch paper and pencil shavings. Not to say that your commitment to your craft made you better than anyone-– hell you had 4 unfinished bio assignments gathering dust on your computer, yet here you were unsurprisingly making art your priority, struggling yet again to find your spark.

It was like you’d been experiencing some sort of drought and famine in the art department, the last piece you’d made that you were truly satisfied with was the previous year. You’d practically won over everyone with your weeping angel piece, one of your finest works that seemed almost ethereal, one gaze and it was sure to make anyones skin crawl. But that was last year of course, and now here you sit in the present on the verge of ripping your hair straight from your head, the stress of having absolutely nothing but a blank canvas starting to bubble over. A frustrated sigh spills from your lips as you erase and draw over and over again repeating the same cycle until something sparks. You’d eventually give up brainstorming and turn to drawing straight up circles, shading the outline darker and darker until your pencil had pierced straight through the paper, a complete mockery of your efforts to let your creativity flow.

You thought that the surrounding scene would be helpful, that it would help you zen out as you sat there. Headphones blasting your usual tunes while you sat in a more cheerful environment rather than confine yourself to the art room, but your efforts had gone awry. In reality you just looked lonely and ill tempered, sat openly in the middle of the courtyard with a scowl on your face.

Niki had been taking his leave when he saw you sat in the middle of the courtyard, an annoyed pout on your lips and that same dark cloud he’d seen from before still looming over your head raining down nothing other than defeat and anguish. He couldn’t help but smile, of course he knew you were most likely still losing your shit over this art assignment but all he could think about was how cute you looked. Messy hair most likely from twirling and tugging at it out of frustration, and puffed out cheeks, a tell all that you were far past the annoyance stage. You seemed to be deep in though as he made his way over, headphones over your ears and your gaze practically glued to the empty sheet of paper.

Dropping his bag down in front of you he takes the seat beside you before taking one side of your earbuds and placing it in his own ear.

“Hold on wait a minute..’’ “feel my heart's intention” “hold on wait a minute i left my consciousness in the sixth dimension.’’

“Why is it that you always seem to find me when i’m in the middle of a mental breakdown.’’ You question, pulling the other earbud from your ear and placing it into your lap. He follows suit, removing the other bud and dropping it into your lap with a shrug.

“the real question is why are you always on the verge of a mental breakdown when I see you?’’ He follows up with a question of his own, stealing your sketchbook into his own hands and flipping through the pages.

“There's nothing in there worth looking at.’’ You sigh pulling your knees to your chest and watching as he flips aimlessly through every page with an unspoken interest, his eyes telling a different story with each flip of a page.

“You’re making it seem like they’re terrible. They aren't bad, they just aren’t you and they lack conviction.’’

‘They aren’t you’ three words that spoke volumes and left you with that same queasy feeling you’d gotten the last time he pointed out even the smallest of details about you.

“What exactly is me? I don’t even really know anymore.’’ you sigh as he places the book back into your lap and you slip it into your bag along with your other supplies.

“So that’s your problem, you’re lacking intentiveness, you need a muse…’’ Niki just spews out a blatant observation, but your lack of response was all the confirmation he needed to know that he was right. You were lacking the drive and innovation that you’d once had behind your past works, and whether it be finding your old spark or a new flame to ignite something within you he didn't mind helping you get it back.

“It’s just frustrating, I’ve never had to think this much.’’ you exhale, a defeated sigh following your words as you tried to grasp what could have possibly been your turning point leading you here, sure you were burned out but there had been many occasions where you’d overworked yourself to the point of insomnia yet you never lost your spark then so why now?

“You need a break, you’re burned out, and it’s leading you to have an inspiration blockage. As long as i’ve seen you in class you never stop, your focus is always glued to the canvas, even after classes when it's just the two of us in the art room i’ve never seen you give yourself a breather.’’ His words were like a smack in the face, not for negative reasons but because he seemed to make the observations you’d prayed no one would ever bring to your attention. He didn’t care whether they were the best or worst parts of you he always mentioned them without fail.

“I- don’t really…I never really had much time for a breather, inspiration goes just as quick as it comes..I’ve learned it the hard way.’’

“What inspiration is there to lose if you’re lacking it right now?’’ heretorts, clapping back so fast it made you fall quiet and your lips pressed into a thin line, he was absolutely right and you had nothing to say to counter his comment.

“Go out with me tomorrow.’’ your eyebrows crease at his suggestion, a suggestion that made the air catch in your throat, yet before you could get the wrong idea he continued on. “I’ll take you to a few places in the city, if inspo is what you need then I know all the perfect places.”

“Are you trying to trick me into going on that date with you, after i rejected you the first time.’’ you respond, an amused grin on your lips at which he rolls his eyes.

“Seems like you’re the only one still stuck on the date, seeing as you’re the one bringing it up. If It were a date I'd have no problem asking you again.’’ he responds, his gaze telling all that he was completely serious. Now here you sat completely melting beneath his gaze and the worst part was you couldn’t even fathom the reason why, why your skin seemed to be lit ablaze anytime he gazed at you like that..like he could see right through you.

“Whatever.’’ you mumble, finally breaking her awkward silence streak with a scrunch of your nose that made Niki smile to himself.”fine i’ll go with you, if this doesn’t work you owe me banana milk for wasting my valuable time.’’

Your chatter continued, even the exchange of phone numbers and home addresses, and unbeknownst to the two of you two glaring eyes had caught the entire interaction, even up until Niki had finally gotten up and left and you were left alone again.

You find yourself smiling at the interaction, only looking up when you hear the crunch of leaves before you, you’d assume it was Niki coming back because he’d forgotten something but instead you find your best friend looking at you as if she’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed.

“Oh Mako I didn’t know you had classes today.’’ you shoot her a smile, one she doesn’t return she just glances back and forth between you and the direction Niki had just gone.

“I had to pick up my books from the library…” her words trail off before she looks at you, her gaze full of skepticism and another emotion you were finding hard to read. “You two close now? All of a sudden?’’

“Mako we shared a few conversations that’s all? It’s not like i’m running to him sharing my secrets.’’

“You aren’t starting to like him or anything are you?’’ you found yourself dumbfounded by the question, meanwhile she stood looking at you with a look in her eyes that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Mako, he’s just a friend.’’ you respond hesitantly, because if you were being truthful you weren’t sure what he was to you..after all you’d only had two conversations with him and as enjoyable as they had been they only left a big question mark at the topic of your relationship with him.

CHAPTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

PERM TAGLIST: (entire taglist is updated, to be readded to the permanent taglist please fill out this form) PERM TAGLIST : @sol3chu @hollxe1 @addictedtohobi @heartheejake @gweoriz @annybah @iarainha @nishimura-mimura @gweoriz @deaddcrow @bbangbies @kimuranirisi @wonzzziezzzz @dazeymazey11 @stayar1 @neogotmysam @starsmew @taystarr @icatpjs

SERIES TAGLIST: ( to be added to the series taglist fill out this form ) @sillylule @monniemons @lovenha7 @jul3sml @kikixdia @weepingsweep @amatariki @betda @danlovestay @lisamrrth @hoonberries @seyoungiesleeps @rairaiblog @kiromiix @iheartshopping @starniras @theothernads @wheretheheckis-ssaki @verialuv @yuuuraaa @swimmingthruthecherryskies @maewphoria @wenomakiluvr @zoe1love @luvjichang @htaesan @kikixdia

[dulcet-aurora]

video games . jason todd x reader. ⸼ ࣪ ✿ ❛ they say that the world was built for two. ❜

❪ in which. ❫ after half a decade of years of therapy, tears, and the seemingly never-ending loop of the five stages of grief, you've finally been able to claw your way past the death of your best friend. but one wish on a burning candle on a lonely, rainy night changes everything.

⸼ ࣪ ✿ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔. mentions of blood, angst, dogshit writing. ⸼ ࣪ ✿ 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚. @di-lucss. ⸼ ࣪ ✿ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕. 1.7k. ⸼ ࣪ ✿ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔. @di-lucss, @ephemerensis, @dollishmehrayan, @aangelinakii. ⸼ ࣪ ✿ 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆'𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒓. please make this pull a jason and blow up 🙏🙏 also take note that there's like three different years that jason was born in order for me to determine when he died so i had to spin around in the dark and throw a dart and a random year. said year was 1990 so he died in 2005. reader has a february birthday for plot reasons. don't like it? don't read.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"𝒘ithout music, life would be a blank to me. you're my music. happy sweet sixteen." read the inside of your old, worn copy of jane austen's emma. scrawled in black pen was a little, poorly drawn but albeit sweet doodle of toad and toadette from mario kart sitting on opposite ends of a cake. you'd dubbed him as toad when you were little due to his last name. underneath, in smaller script, "for my favorite parasite. enjoy. love, jason."

your eyes glistened with tears as you looked at the date— february 7th, 2005. when you had turned sixteen, you'd tackled your best friend so hard in a hug that he fell over and landed on the grass. his sixteenth wouldn't come until august, but you already had a book chosen out. what you didn't know is that that same book would still be lodged among your collection of books in four years, because in just over two months, he'd be beaten half to death and let an exploding warehouse finish the job.

jason always liked to go out with a bang.

of course, you hadn't known that. you hadn't known that he'd gone on patrol as batman's sidekick, like he had for years without you knowing. it wasn't until an older gentleman approached you at the funeral and pressed a sharp ended pin shaped like an 'R' into your palm.

you'd renovated after he died. in this economy, you couldn't afford a new apartment other than the one you lived in when you were younger. with your father out of the picture and your mother sent to rehab just barely a year after jason's death, you'd doubled down and redid the entire thing yourself, erasing every trace of your teenaged self from every nook, cranny, and crevice. there were too many memories of jason in the walls— the two broken coat hangers where he'd tried to do a pull-up, the two handprints in red and blue paint on the wall after your first playdate in second grade, and that old guitar with two missing strings that he carved your initials into. gone, gone, gone.

you'd never forgiven him. for lying. for being so reckless. for leaving you. leaving you alone underneath that weeping willow wondering why he hadn't showed.

you brushed your fingers against jason's five year old handwriting, the last trace you had of him. the warm glow of your candle stabbed into your cupcake illuminated the pages. today marked your fourth birthday without jason, four years of that fifty dollar, leather bound copy of pride and prejudice, the one that you spent five months of allowance saving up for. you've never read it, never touched a copy of pride and prejudice again because all you could hear was his voice reading the words.

i wish you were here, jay, you thought to yourself as a puff of air left your lips as you blew out the candle. wisps of smoke curled off the wick and brushed over the first pages of emma. tears brimmed in your eyes as you caught a glimpse of his messy script again. i miss you.

you curled your legs up to your chest and rested your chin on your knees. you let yourself cry, tears trickling down your cheeks.

just then, you heard the window open and your plate beneath your cupcake vibrated as heavy footsteps hit the floor. the groan of a man echoed through your apartment and the sound of something large hitting your wall.

you flinched, your palms pressed against the table. your lights were off and your candle was out, the spark on the wick fading quickly. you inhaled sharply then clamped a hand over your mouth. you stood up and grabbed the quickest weapon you could find— your old, faulty lighter. you walked silently towards the sound.

you heard another rustle and the sound of bottles knocking against each other. the sound was hollow and echoed through your apartment— it was the sound of metal bouncing off tile. your bathroom. your socks quieted your steps as you made your way there. the door is ajar, and you can hear labored breathing slipping through crack in the door. the noise and the bright alabaster light made it look like god himself was speaking to you in tongues.

you nudge the door with your lighter, the harsh light making your vision go fuzzy for a moment before your eyes adjust. your hand goes slack.

"oh my god."

there's blood on your bathtub, your first aid kit is scattered all over the place, and there are muddy boot prints all over your tiled floor a masked head looks up at you and you make dead eye contact with none other than red hood sitting on the edge of your bathtub, a hand stained as red as his suit clamped over his abdomen.

"hey," red hood said, entirely too calm for the fact that a) he had just broken into your home, and b) there was a hole in his stomach.

"hello," you blurted out.

a beat of silence passes, "i'm bleeding," the masked man offered.

"i... can see that," you said. you slowly reached for a bottle of hairspray, your trembling fingers clutching around the bottle as you subtly angled the end of the lighter to the nozzle of the hairspray can.

"please don't set me on fire," red hood said gruffly. you lowered your lighter slowly.

"why are you here?" you asked, voice thick with the disbelief that was still choking you. "how did you even—" you cut yourself off, your eyes shifting nervously to the window, the glass still open. your apartment was on the third floor. he had a stab wound. how had he gotten in?

"i'm really not in the mood for twenty questions," he muttered, sucking in a sharp breath as he shifted his weight.

in reality, jason remembered your exact address from his old life, his old life with you in it, where he would scramble up the rusted ladder and run along the ledges to reach your bathroom window. it was muscle memory for him to go to your apartment, he hadn't even considered that maybe other people lived hear or they'd taken down that old ladder because it was a hazard.

"can you just... do the thing where you help me before i bleed out all over your bathroom?" he asked, and you blinked.

"i... i'm not qualified," you said.

"of course you're not," he grumbled, and you stiffened. red hood motioned to his wound still gushing blood in between his fingers. "look, do i look qualified? no. am i still patching myself up? yes."

"i could care less if you lived or died," you said coldly.

he went silent. you couldn't see, but he bit his cheek and forced down the lump in his throat. he knew that you didn't know that he had died, that he was the one person that you cared about. the singular organism on this planet with a beating heart and flowing blood and breathing lungs that had let those three things shut down and allowed himself to leave you forever.

you cared about jason todd. not red hood. and the only thing for your birthday was for him to stumble through your window like he used to, his clothes smelling like nicotine and his monster energy breath wafting through your tiny apartment. something had climbed through your window that night, but it wasn't your best friend, your jason, your toad. because he was gone and no matter how hard you wished, he wasn't coming back.

"clean up," you quipped, motioning at the mixture of crimson blood and mud caking onto your tile. "grab some food and go be on your merry way."

red hood gave you a thumbs up and you turned on your heel and went back to the kitchen table. your candle had melted. there was wax in your icing.

tears welled up in your eyes. you furiously wiped them away, the sleeve of your sweater burning the puffy skin around your eyes but you didn't care. while you didn't give two shits about red hood, he was still a dangerous individual and was bleeding out in your bathroom. you didn't want him thinking you were weak or see you crying over a copy of emma and potentially digging up things on your personal life.

you put your head down and feels like hours have passed before red hood comes out of the bathroom. you heard the refrigerator open and the sound of containers being rustled around before the door shut and you heard your window slide open.

words danced on the tip of jason's tongue, trapped between his lips and the mask. words like i'm sorry or it's me, jason or any of the thousand inside jokes that had been trapped in his mind and guarded by the lazarus pit that had been sure to engrave it in his brain. his memories of you were still muddled but were all the same, like the layers of a 3d movie or the text on the rosetta stone.

he noticed the cupcake. and the book. that book. emma.

the scent of smoke lingered in the air, slipping between the sweat building up in his hood and the scent of gasoline that clung to his uniform. "happy birthday," he said, one leg hanging out the window.

silence. "how'd you know?" you asked after a moment, your voice hollow.

"you wanted something, and didn't get it," he guessed. jason recognized your flushed cheeks and moodiness when something went wrong. when you were little, you'd throw tantrums.

"i'm not four." you retorted.

"yeah, so live a little," he said. "how often is happiness destroyed by preparation, foolish preparation!"

you'd heard that line before. "wait, did you just—"

the rest of your words came out as a breath as you looked behind you to see red hood gone, the only trace of his presence being the lingering scent of nicotine. your lips parted, hoping the rest of your sentence would spill out, but it didn't.

jane austen wrote that surprises are foolish things. the pleasure is not enhanced, and the inconvenience is often considerable. as you cleaned your floor of red hood's boot prints and had to make an extra grocery run for the amount of food that he'd taken, you might've agreed with it.

but the red annotation on page 182 and the note on your bulletin board reminding you to do something spontaneous said otherwise.

© dulcet-aurora 2025.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Infernal Shadows 03

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it. Carmilla and Velvet feud because I also live for that. I also really favor Zestial for some reason as a calm mediator.

Song for this chapter: Ludwig van Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61

A/N: Thank you all so much for your positive feedback & feedback in general on the last two posts!! I really didn’t think this would catch so much attention but I’m so glad people like it. For some reason Tumblr’s being weird and doesn’t want to let me tag certain people, I don’t know why but if anyone does please let me know because I really don’t like that ;/ But I hope you all enjoy this chapter!! Please note that some blogs cannot be tagged, so I recommend checking this post and to check your settings to make sure I can tag you! If anything I can always just message you when the next chapter comes out, and yes I am making this series longer :) it’ll also be posted on my Wattpad soon!

Word count: 3890

Taglist: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote @froggyferrets @frompeach @absurd-ash @sillysillyxinnabun @urdariingdoll @delectableworm @immahuman @justaproudslytherpuff @local-mr-frog @angeli-fucking-cat @coldsweetsenthusiast @jadekomaeda @iaaeav @coffeethoughtsandanxiety @lunalixya @pretty-puppy-stuffies @lemonrolls @asimplikeallyall @lunalixya

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part One. // Part two. // Part four.

Engaging with guests throughout the night had become an exhausting endeavor, and a part of you yearned for the solace of your absence. Nevertheless, you maintained the façade, acknowledging every sinner whose smile dripped with crimson mischief. Having greeted each guest, you discreetly slipped into a shadowed corner, your shadows enveloping your figure quickly, seamlessly disappearing from the expansive room in mere seconds and emerging into an intimate gazebo outside, meticulously arranged beneath the sweeping branches of a weeping willow, you marveled at its unique ambiance. Unlike the earthly counterparts that stood white, the willow in your realm bore a deep crimson hue, its leaves adorned with a subtle, luminous sheen. A gentle smile graced your lips as you leaned against the sturdy black iron railing, delicately cradling a piece of the weeping willow between your fingertips. In the distance, the grand mansion hosting the gala loomed, its opulence contrasting with the simplicity of your secluded retreat. Despite the awareness of etiquette dictating against leaving guests unattended, the need for a mental break led you to this haven, a safe space for you. Reflecting, you acknowledged a desire for better preparation and rehearsal with the shadows, realizing the repetitiveness of conversations with the familiar sinners had rendered the night somewhat lackluster. It almost felt like you had come out of hiding for nothing. Quite the disappointment.

You sigh, massaging your temples, the lace fabric on your fingertips only slightly soothing the growing headache. However, not too far behind, you hear the sound of soft grass. You straighten up and turn around, seeing none other than your long time friend Zestial, who just smiled, nodding at you.

“Why art thou out here all alone on this crimson night?” Zestial inquired, standing by your side with his back against the railing. You resumed your original position, taking a moment to appreciate his father. Mentally noting how much of your grandfather Zestial reminded you of, you kept the sentiment unspoken.

Tonight, Zestial adorned himself in an outfit resonant with his time period, preserving his distinctive color scheme. A dark, meticulously tailored coat with lime green accents draped over his slender frame, capturing the essence of his demonic class. The cloak, adorned with lime green spider webs, unveiled a mesmerizing display when unfurled—his lime green eyes radiating, the upper pair embellished with vivid red irises. Instead of the customary big top hat, Zestial selected a smaller, more appropriate hat with a touch of flair. Dark as the shadows you command, it featured a light grey patch at the front and was finished with a grey-colored skull and a lime green and red-striped feather on the right side, adding a distinctive touch that mirrored his nature.

“Why art thou out here all alone on this crimson night?” Zestial repeated, shifting toward you a bit. Yet you resumed your original position, savoring the quiet ambiance before finally answering him. “What shall we discourse upon during our repast this eventide?” Zestial asked. Though his wording occasionally posed a challenge for others, having grown up in a family of eloquent speakers, you easily deciphered his intent. Something he truly appreciated. Though he was learning to speak more ‘modern’, or as modern as he could be.

“Quite unsure of that. Everything is changing, and I fear I might be left behind,” you expressed bluntly. Zestial sighed in response, a mix of understanding and concern evident in his lime green eyes.

“Madame, thou art timeless,” Zestial said with a bow, his cup proofing into smoke. “I pray thee, vex not thyself o’er so trivial a matter,” he added, his words resonating with both reassurance and genuine care.

You nodded, handing him a card. His surprised expression upon finding two cards instead of one didn’t escape you. “What manner of thing is this?” Zestial inquired, prompting you to summon a shadow for yourself, knowing he would find his own means back to the Gala.

“Carmilla. I am no fool to the both of you,” you said, amusement coloring your words as Zestial shook his head.

“Thou dost astonish me on every occasion,” Zestial remarked, standing by your side as you walked into your portal. Two seats vanished, leaving four empty seats at your table and six occupied.

In your study, you floated scripts in front of you, checking off names on the table list for tonight. With a few overlords left to choose from, Alastor and Charlotte secured seats based on trust and connections. Vox, Zestial, and Carmilla, an unspoken but potent couple, promised intrigue. Reconsidering Velvet for her potential devolution, you weighed each decision with strategic acumen.

Valentino, the Von Eldritch twins, and other weaker options were dismissed, maintaining a careful balance of power and influence. As you weigh the option of inviting Rosie to the gathering, her unpredictable nature adds a layer of excitement and potential surprise to the upcoming discussions. However, this unpredictability could also introduce challenges, creating an air of uncertainty around her contributions. Hopefully with Alastor around, she’d feel more inclined to behave. You check her name off the list.

In considering Stolas, the Goetia prince, his personal issues and tarnished reputation pose significant hurdles. Divorcing from his wife, sleeping with an imp for fun, as well as losing control of his daughter on Earth, it all seemed too risky to get involved with. While his wisdom and influence could contribute positively, the shadows of his struggles may complicate the dynamics, stirring potential conflicts and requiring delicate handling. Someone might get out of line with a comment towards him. His power was incredibly useful, but not worth the risk.

Husk’s transformation from a former overlord to a bartender signals a decline in power and status. While his laid-back demeanor might bring a sense of unpredictability, his diminished influence raises questions about the relevance of his involvement in the current political landscape of hell. Though he was your friend, you needed to keep your reputation pristine.

As the you contemplate the overlords assets, a mix of excitement, caution, and uncertainty envelops the decision-making process. Each overlord’s potential positive contributions are balanced by the looming negatives.

“Madame?” One of your shadows materialized, prompting a nod for them to proceed. “There seems to be some trouble in the lobby between the guests. What would you like us to do?” it inquired. A grimace crossed your face, hoping the disturbance wouldn’t mar your night. “Let me handle it,” you declared, snapping your fingers, causing the script to vanish. The shadow nodded, blending back into a wall for you to step through.

Upon reappearing, you assumed the form of a taller shadow. The room surrounded by guests revealed Vox, Velvet, Alastor, and Carmilla standing in the middle. Zestial, seemingly composed, stood close behind Carmilla, observing the situation. Carmilla appeared visibly upset, with Velvet in proximity, a pointed finger dropping as soon as she noticed your arrival. Alastor maintained his usual wide smile, though it bordered on the eerie, revealing a glimpse of his gums. The scene unfolded, presenting a potential challenge to the serene atmosphere you aimed to maintain during the gala.

Everyone seemed to stop, slowly turning toward you to see your face. Except there was no expression, just the large shadow you had taken form of. In seconds the shadow disappeared, leaving you in the fog, the expression on your face anything but calm.

"Madame I-" Velvet began, but her words were halted by the sight of your lace glove, your hand rising to silence her. Approaching the overlords, you spoke with an air of cold authority.

"My quarters. Now," you commanded, and with a snap of your fingers, smoke enveloped your spot as you vanished. Shadows materialized around the overlords, guiding them to your quarters, leaving the stunned guests in the lobby.

"Well, that was interesting," Valentino remarked.

In your study, the overlords found you seated in your tall, black chair. Its ebony surface featured intricate carvings of black glass, elegant swirls, and patterns tailored to your essence, creating an atmosphere of undeniable authority and refinement.

"I hope you all had fun acting like children," you chided sternly. The overlords lined up, forming a unified front. Leaning against the right side of your chair, you crossed your legs, elbow on the armrest, pinching the bridge of your nose with a sigh. Annoyance laced your words as you questioned, "What did you feel the need to argue about now?" Before Velvet, Vox, and Carmilla could respond simultaneously, you halted them. "One at a time. I'd assume you all handle this like adults, if you even can." The tension in the room hung thick as the overlords awaited their turn to address your inquiry.

“She wants me at her table Vaggie! Me!” Charlotte said excitedly. Vagatha just smiled.

“That’s good! Now you can tell them about the hotel, and maybe someone will be interested.” Vagatha said, and Charlotte just nodded.

“Maybe they-“ Charlotte stopped, observing as people began to crowd around the center of the lobby. Charlotte and Vagatha stood from their spots at the bar to walk toward the center, where the overlords stood. Velvet and Vox were next to each other, while Carmilla, Alastor and Zestial were across. Carmilla and Velvet were face to face. “What’s going on?” Charlotte asked as Vagatha and her pushed their way through the crowds of people.

“Come on, Carmilla, always the mood-killer,” Velvet scoffed, a disrespectful tone tainting her words. Carmilla shot her a stern look, ready to assert her authority.

“Watch that tongue, Velvet. I will not let your insolence slide,” Carmilla retorted, attempting to rein in the escalating tension.

Vox, ever the smooth talker, chimed in, “Ladies, ladies, let’s not turn this into a drama fest. We’re all here for a reason.” Vox said, sternly giving a tight lipped smile to Velvet, silently telling her to keep her shit together.

Carmilla shot a glare at Velvet, who replied with a defiant smirk, “Drama or not, Vox, some of us aren’t here for the ballroom charm.”

Alastor, drawn to the brewing chaos, couldn’t resist adding his flair, “Well, well, a bit of spice never hurt a party, does it?”

Carmilla, unfazed by the chaos, spoke with a calm authority, “Velvet, your insolence is unnecessary. This is not a playground; it’s a gathering of overlords. Act accordingly.”

Velvet, seemingly undeterred, shot back with a dismissive laugh, “Poor Grandma, always trying to play the responsible one. Maybe loosen up a bit? Have a drink will you?”

Vox, ever the smooth talker, added with a slick comment, “Perhaps we can focus on the matters at hand. Save the theatrics for later ladies.”

Alastor, intrigued by the unfolding drama, simply grinned, “Oh the picture box has spoken! Quite intriguing.” The room continued to buzz with tension as each overlord, except Rosie, added their own flavor to the brewing turmoil. As the tension thickened, Vox, with a sly grin, couldn't resist adding his own slick comment to the mix.

"Ah, Alastor, the radio days were quaint, but it seems you're a bit outdated. Television is the future, perhaps you should tune in sometime," he quipped with a wink, the words delivered with a calculated smoothness. The room momentarily hung in a charged silence before the verbal sparring resumed, adding another layer to the complex interplay of personalities at the gala.

With Vox's comment about Alastor being outdated sinking in, the radio demon responded with a sly grin, sharp teeth on display, his eyes displays dials, as the rooms lights began to deepen, "Ah, Vox, your television endeavors are impressive, but remember, I'm not just audible; I'm unforgettable. A little screen time won't change that," he retorted, “This face was made for radio.” He said with a grin, tilting his head to the side, a sharp snap in his neck, his words carrying a mix of amusement and confidence. The verbal exchange between the two overlords added another layer to the already charged atmosphere, each comment becoming a piece in the intricate puzzle of conflicts and egos at the gala.

“See what you did grandma, now you’ve got the two of them fighting.” Velvet said, pointing a finger into Carmella’s chest. She scoffed, shoving her away.

“Don’t you dare get disrespectful on me you brat.” Carmilla said, beginning to heat up with anger.

That's when Madame stepped in, reappearing in the form of a taller shadow, casting a lengthened silhouette in the room brimming with guests. Vox, Velvet, Alastor, and Carmilla found themselves at the center of the unfolding tableau, and Zestial, seemingly composed, lingered just behind Carmilla, quietly observing the escalating drama. Carmilla's visage betrayed a hint of distress, her pointed finger lowering as she registered your reappearance. Alastor, with his trademark grin, bordered on eerie, revealing a glimpse of his gums. The unfolding scene disrupted the serene atmosphere you had meticulously aimed to maintain during the gala, presenting an unexpected challenge.

A hush fell over the room as everyone turned their gaze toward you, anticipating your reaction. However, your face remained expressionless, concealed within the depths of the large shadow you had taken form of. In mere seconds, the shadow dissipated, leaving you in a misty veil. Yet, beneath the calm exterior, a storm brewed, ready to challenge the delicate balance of the evening.

Now, here you all were, sitting in the study after Carmilla had explained the situation.

“Madame, with all due respect,” Carmilla spoke, looking down. “I truly do not believe Velvet is mature enough to be at our table tonight.” Carmilla said.

“Are you questioning my judgment?” You asked sharply, to which Carmilla stiffened quickly, shaking her head then.

”No Madame, I would never-“

“Then do not say foolish things.” You said. Sighing, you shut your eyes, feeling the weight of the situation. Tonight sensitive information would be revealed and Carmilla did have some point here. Velvet clearly could not hold her tongue.

”Vox, control your associate please, or you both will be cut from the dinner tonight.” You said finally, to which he nodded nervously.

“Of course Madame.” He said, nodding to you.

“I wasn’t finished.” You said, looking to Alastor.

“I want none of this technology talk either.” You spoke, staring at Alastor who just smiled with lidded eyes. You knew he was very much upset, but you had forbidden anyone to fight in your home, anyone but you of course. “You all will act like mature adults wether you like it or not. I am not your guardian, I should not be having this conversation with overlords who should know better.” You said, standing. ”Now, all of you, out.” You said, snapping your fingers. Quickly the shadows began to move, ushering everyone out of your study. Everyone except Carmilla. “Not you.” You said to her, Zestial nodding to you and her as he stepped out, giving you both privacy.

“Madame, I didn’t mean what I said-“ Carmilla said quickly. You waved her off, straightening yourself out.

“Nonsense Carmilla, I know you meant well.” You said with a stoic expression. You sit back down, crossing your legs and snapping your fingers to form a chair in front of your desk, ushering her to sit. “I wanted to speak to you about your weapons.” You stated. At this her eyes went wide, before dropping again.

“Oh, very well then. What would you like to know?” She asked. You grinned, before standing again.

“Well, how much would I need to give you for you to make me a personal bayonet?” You asked. She went silent for a moment, before answering.

“Nothing at all Madame.” She said, standing to look at you. “May I ask what for?” She questioned. You shook your head.

“No, just to have on display. I want a new one, the old one I have is quite out of style for me.” You replied. She just nodded, before you waved to her, sitting back down and summoning a script again. “You may go now, and please, do not argue with children.” You commented. She just smiled and nodded, leaving you to your own vices.

It was half-past eleven, five minutes till the midnight bells chime. Everyone in the lobby was beginning to get excited for the entertainment you had planned for the night. Oh, you knew you would not disappoint.

“Madame would like everyone to accompany her on a journey tonight. She has sent me to retrieve you all. She would like to formally welcome you to tonight’s entertainment.” The large shadow said, standing from the topic of the stairs. Behind it was a large portal. It stepped backwards, into the portal, and nodded for the guests to start coming through.

The custom-built coliseum stands as a testament to Madame's vision, a grand fusion of opulence and dark elegance. The circular structure boasts towering columns, but instead of conventional pillars, thick chains rise, intricately linked and serving as both ornamental decor and structural support. The arches, molded in black, curve gracefully around the circumference, evoking a Victorian Gothic aesthetic that permeates the entire venue.

Two larger-than-life statues of Madame herself flank the entrance, capturing her regal poise and adding a touch of imposing authority. The statues serve not only as decorative elements but as a representation of the gala's hostess, a constant presence overseeing the proceedings, she is always watching, all seeing, perfection.

The overall ambiance is one of grandeur and mystery, with the black molding on the arches casting shadows that play into the darker undertones. Every intricate detail, from the chains to the statues, contributes to the unique Victorian Gothic feel of the coliseum, matching Madame’s home perfectly, matching her perfectly. The venue, finally being unveiled to the guests, now welcomes them who are treated to an appetizer course, surrounded by the striking architecture and entertained within the darkly enchanting atmosphere Madame has meticulously crafted.

Numerous shadows, dark and formless, line the entrance walls, extending silent greetings to the arriving guests. Their presence adds an air of mystique and intrigue as they blend seamlessly with the Gothic architecture. As attendees make their way into the coliseum, these shadowy figures create an ethereal welcome, embodying the unique atmosphere of Madame's custom-built venue.

At a separate entrance reserved for the handpicked members of Madame's esteemed dinner table, a solitary shadow stands guard. This entrance, reserved for a select few, hints at the exclusivity and importance of those who will partake in the upcoming dinner. The shadowy sentinels serve not only as silent greeters but also as guardians of the event's secrets, casting an enigmatic allure over the gala.

A singular shadows escorts Charlotte, Alastor, and the rest of the overlords to the exclusive section, leading them to an elevator to bring them to the best seats in the coliseum. The elevator’s interior is a striking display of elegance, with white and black checkered flooring lending a timeless touch. The walls, enveloped in darkness, exude an air of mystery, while black, smokey glass engravings on the ceiling add intricate detailing that dances in the ambient light. Each number on the elevator, indicating the ascending levels, glows a vibrant red, creating a vivid contrast against the monochrome palette.

“Oh I’m so excited! What do you think we’re gonna see? Gladiators? Sinners fight? Oh actually I hope not, I don’t want people to die.” Charlotte said to Alastor. Carmilla just chuckled at her antics while Zestial eyed her with curiosity. Where did Alastor find such a girl and why the princess of all people?

The elevator stops at the top floor, revealing the opening in the middle, which was surprisingly covered with water.

“What is Madame playing at?” Carmilla questioned as the overlords sat in a row at the top. From there they could see everything and everyone.

“I am quite uncertain, yet my anticipation is stirred nonetheless.” Zestial said. The lights around began to dim, and shadows began to pour glasses of water in front of all the guests. Down in the middle of the coliseum was the tallest shadow, the one that seemed to be Madame’s favorite, since it always spoke for her.

“Greetings all. It is Madame’s pleasure to invite you all to the special entertainment tonight. Madame has put together some of hell’s finest performers for your entertainment tonight. I would like to present, preforming here tonight, The Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra preforming Ludwig van Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61.” The shadow said with a bow, before it vanished just as quick as it came. Then, other shadows appeared, but this time they were different. They were people, performers, with clear outlined silhouettes, faces and expressions, even clothes.

“Hey, Al?” Charlotte asked, leaning over in her seat to Alastor. He let out a ‘hm?’ In response.

“Does Madame own those souls down there?” Charlotte whispered, but before Alastor could answer, a shadow had already cut in.

“Yes. All the shadows here, even yours, Madame owns.” The shadow said quietly, filling Charlotte’s glass cup with water. Charlotte nervously, perked up, but said nothing as she shadow carried on with it’s catering.

The ethereal notes of the music filled the air as the performance unfolded. Around the musicians stood ballet dancers, their movements a delicate poetry in motion. Clad in all black, the performers created a stark contrast to the dancers, who emerged with an otherworldly grace akin to figures rising from the depths of water. The dancers moved with an angelic fluidity, their forms intertwining seamlessly with the haunting melody, creating a mesmerizing tableau that captivated the audience. The visual symphony of black-clad musicians and the whisky-hued ballet dancers painted a scene of enchantment and mystery within the grand coliseum. Even down to the dancers, this had Madame written all over it.

Velvet's keen eye captured the essence of the dancers' ethereal movements on paper. With each stroke of her sketch, she depicted the dancers as if emerging from a watery abyss, the fog enveloping their feet creating an illusion of water flowing upward. The intricate details on her sketch paper brought to life the dancers' graceful forms, their figures seemingly intertwined with the rising mist, evoking the enchantment of a waterspout captured in a moment of sublime artistry. Velvet's artistic interpretation added a layer of depth to the performance, transforming the ephemeral dance into a tangible and captivating visual narrative.

Water had begun to swirl, the dancers moving around it, the water getting taller and taller, similar to the way it had when you had first made your entrance at the beginning of the Gala. Now, it was water, and from Charlotte’s seat, she had struggled to make out what was going on. She turned to Alastor to see him holding a pair of opera glasses in his hand. Without you having to ask, he tapped the armrest of her seat. Charlotte turned to the side to see a pair tucked neatly against the front of the armrest. She grabbed them quickly, before looking through them and at the waterspout now forming in the middle. Her jaw flew open, as well as the loud screech of Alastor’s track playing. Vox had short circuited, and Carmilla gasped loudly. Velvet stood silent, but there was evident confusion on her face, while Zestial sunk into his seat, conflicting emotions flowing through him.

“Madame- she’s-“ Charlotte stuttered, and Alastor nodded, swallowing thickly.

“With an exorcist. I know.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you do a part 2 of your Devil May cry white rabbit with the reasonable demon hunter? (The first one got me really shipping them!) Or maybe another idea of a good demon hunter who’s secretly really rich. Like a political or royal family. They actually have property in the country side and some of the demons they save live there away from everyone. The white rabbit finds out about a rumor of a “sanctuary”.

i'm going to combined the two becuase why not, and its easier.

it had been a while since you and rabbit had been aware of one another, exchanging pleasentries with one another whenever you so happened to be within the same area, which had gone from short sentences to somewhat flirty compliments.

however there was something that you had kept hidden from even him, the fact that you had come from a well off family, a family that had unfortunetly passed on and had left everything to you in their will.

this included a massive house within the countryside, far away from the conflict and far off the gride for DARKCOM to bother looking into. it had enough rooms big enough to accomidate several familes that it felt too lonely for you to have all to yourself.

so while you trained to be a demon hunter, you vowed to make good use of the house and made it into a safe haven for demons who only wanted peace, a place to raise their own without fear, and you made good on that promise by using your contacts to others who were more then willing to help demons pass through to the countryside house safetly.

the idea was still very much new, but it had seemed to work a treat for you as whenever you went to the house, you were greeted by familes of demons who were happy to be away from conflict and appreciating the large open backyard, one that had blossom trees and weeping willows amongst blooming bushes of wildflowers that gave the air a sweet, welcoming smell.

you waved off their thanks and said. 'i only want to help, and i'm thankful for having the resources to do that and exacute it, so please the last thing i want is to be thanked. besides this hosue deserves life within it's walls then one lonely one.' before leaving them to continue your work in helping demons journey to what was now called the safe haven.

but soon enough word began to spread within the realm of demons of the safe haven, and soon it had caught rabbit's ears as they eaglerly talked about a place where demons could live without DARKCOM breathing down their necks.

so naturally rabbit went to the only person whom he knew could offer some light in this situation: you.

'hello handsome,' you said as you caught sight of the well dressed gentleman, 'what brings you here?'

rabbit smiles, taking a sip from the tea he had made for you both as you now sat across the table from one another. 'i've heard rumours of a saccred house within the countryside, a safe haven for demons away from DARKCOM and any other hostile demons, heard anything about it?'

you sighed as you put down your teacup, smiling softly, 'and what if i have?'

'i merely wish to know if such a thing exists, i don't want to give my people hope in a fairytale should it not be true.' rabbit says as he reaches out to hold your hand, strocking the back of it as you squeezed it reasuringly.

'well you're in luck my handsome man because the safe haven, the house that has been the talk of all demons? it's real and i've seen it.' you leaned forward, smiling wider as you looked into his eyes as they widened ever so slightly, his breath hitching in his throat.

'you have?' you hummed. 'where? when? how?' he asks, finding himself needing even more confirmation from you, never having felt this much hope in his enitre life as he realised that he would blindingly trust your words: a recent discovery that had him a little taken aback before growing comfortable with letting you into his heart.

'well, it's a house that had been passed down to me from my family a while back,' you began as you kept your eyes on rabbit to read his expressions,'at first i didn't know what to do with it so it was left abandoned. Then everything happed and suddenly i knew what i must do and made it into a shelter, a safe haven for demons who want life away from violence.' you finshed off and as soon as you were, you were swept into a tight embrace as rabbit burrows his head into your neck.

'you never fail to surpise me my dear.' he whispered as he felt himself admireing you more, he didn't care that he wasn't privy to the fact that you had come from a well off family, he knew you had your reasons. yet it was the fact that you didn't let that gift go to waste and actively use it for good, unlike most powerful people.

it had only made it more undeniable that rabbit knew there was more to what he felt towards you, he just was skeptical until he gotten to the point where he knew you had no reason to lie or withold anything, unless it was absolutely necessary.

'just trying to help.' you replied, holding him just as tightly back.

'you're incredible my dear, absolutely incredible.' rabbit whispered, content and happy in knowing there was a future for his kind, and it was in thanks to you. 'thank you.' he felt you shrug in his embrace.

'i didn't do it to be thanked, i did it becuase it was the right thing to do.' yo told him as he kissed your forhead, something new that had completely taken you offgaurd for a second, before melting back into his embrace like you were meant to be there.

'i can't let my favourite hunter go without their efforts being acknowledged, be selfish my dear for this moment id yours.' rabbit said.

'then does that mean i can be selfish with you and call you mine all the time then?' you asked in a moment of vulnerability, holding in a breath as you awaited his response, only to feel him rest his forhead against yours as he smiles.

'my dear you can be as selfish with me as you like, for the future is ours to take back, not theirs.' he reassures you.

'it was never theirs to begin with.' you rebuttled. 'never theres to take from demons who didn't participate in the violence and chaos, they deserve a home.'

'and a home is what we will make them.' rabbit replied, looking deep into your eyes, only to see the same determination to make that dream a reality. 'together.' he adds.

'together.' you echoed as you both held your gazes for a prolonged time.

[jjanuaryrain]

DP x DC crossover

First pass at the first chapter of a DPxDC crossover fic (more below the break):

Words: 5757

Jason didn’t mean to return to his grave as often as he did. Honestly. He had no intention of ever returning to the Wayne family plot in Gotham Cemetery, but life had a mysterious way of directly contradicting Jason’s desires. 

So, instead, he just found himself there. Over and over: in the dead of night, or the middle of a storm, or during a city-wide blackout. Every time, it was dark and miserable and he couldn’t remember getting there, couldn’t remember making the decision to go, but he knew he moved of his own volition. Just not how. Just not why.

Something’d been pulling him there, that much was clear. He’d mostly stopped looking for a reason, though, as none had ever become clear no matter how long he spent inspecting the grave. There were only so many times you could stare at the same plot of land and think God, why?? before it started to get a little stale, y’know? And he’d never been harmed during his unconscious wanderings – a veritable miracle in this shithole. The Jason of a few years ago probably would’ve immediately assumed Bruce had something to do with it, but in reality it felt too… Magical. Too inexplicable and supernatural to be something that the Batman would have a hand in.

Still, despite being obviously supernatural, it didn’t feel particularly dangerous. The first few times he’d found himself in front of that ridiculously lavish slab of marble, sure, he’d practically blacked out again in a haze of green-tinged fury. He was pretty sure he’d smashed the thing up that first time, but when he’d come to in front of it a few weeks later, there wasn’t a scratch on it. That could believably be Bruce’s doing.

Now, there was something almost peaceful about waking up in front of the grave he clawed himself out of all that time ago. Nearly, what, three years now? Christ, had it been that long? Jason’s work wasn’t done, not by a long shot, but he also wasn’t the same thing that pulled itself, heaving and spitting, from the dirt. He felt a little less like a vengeful spirit and a little bit more like a person when he looked at that grave now. Less like he wanted to sink his teeth into anything that moved or dared to enter his line of sight. He maybe even felt a little related to the Jason Todd that was originally laid to rest there.

Tonight was different from all those nights before it. Jason chose to be here. Awake and aware, he drove his motorcycle through the sleeting rain to the entrance of the cemetery and made his way to his grave. He had business there tonight, and his grave was the most obnoxious place he could think of to ask Dickie to meet him. If the nuisance is gonna insist on meeting, Jason’s gotta get at least a little bit of a kick out of it, right? Not like he was gonna enjoy the conversation at all otherwise. 

He knew the route intuitively, so he was sure-footed when he stepped around the large weeping willow towards the Wayne family plot. (That used to rub him the wrong way, too, being lumped in with the Waynes. But it wasn’t like there was a Todd plot to bury his empty coffin in, was there?)

Fog was rolling across the carefully manicured lawn of the cemetery when Jason approached, curling around trees and over tombstones. Only the best and brightest of the city were buried here, those whose families had enough money or sway to keep their loved one’s bodies out of the cramped landfills that were the cemeteries in areas like Burnside or, god forbid, the Narrows.

So, it stood to question why some street rat was crouched down in the fog in front of an open grave when Jason rounded the tree. In front of Jason’s open, re-dug-up grave, what the fuck.

The fucker was damn lucky that Jason’s had 3 years to get a handle on his anger, because shit. Seeing the fresh dirt piled haphazardly around his half unearthed coffin had Jason seething behind his muzzle, teeth bared almost against his will. His pulse thundered in his ears and he itched to reach for a weapon and right this wrong wrong WRONG. 

But that wasn’t Jason’s urge. That wasn’t Jason’s well-honed instinct, carved into him by countless years on the streets of Gotham. It was something far less logical and far more nefarious.

So. Jason forced his muscles to relax and dropped back into a crouch instead, curling into the stretching shadows of the weeping willow. Wait, observe, understand. Then act. It was the only piece of advice of Bruce’s that Jason had any interest in following after waking up under the ground. And it still rankled to follow it.

The thought of Bruce, that old damned fool, and his other terrible advice had Jason tensing up all over again, but he forced the rage back, swallowed it back down into that dark pit in the center of his chest. There’d be a time to unleash it, later. When he knew for damn sure that his target deserved it. For now, however…

Wait. Observe. Understand.

The street rat was mumbling to himself as he crouched over Jason’s grave, sifting through the loose dirt as if he was looking for something. Oddly, though, he didn’t seem to have a speck of dirt on him. Despite his ratty clothes – a pair of torn black cargo pants and a dingy black hoodie with a faded and crumbling NASA logo on the back – neither of them had any stains. The hoodie was worn thin around the hem and collar, though, and even from a distance Jason could see at least one section that’d been obviously mended.

Definitely not one of Gotham’s elite, then. He didn’t have the look of rich kid playing poor, either, despite the lack of mess that the streets tended to leave on people. Overall, a disjointed sight.

Curious.

Jason upped the contrast on the lenses in his domino mask and zoomed in as much as he could on the kid. If he could be called that. He was on the small side, closer to Tim’s build than Jason’s, but he appeared to be post-adolescent at the very least.

Jason scanned his person for any identifying features. He was facing away and his black hair was tied up into a short and messy ponytail that did a terrible job of holding it back, meaning Jason couldn’t get a good look at his face. His ears were in plain view, however, and decked out in black piercings and silver chains. Jason filed that information away for later. The piercings could be good markers for identification later as long as he didn’t take them out. 

And… was it just Jason’s imagination or did his ears form the barest of points at the tips?

That was interesting. Could be natural, but… well, it was Gotham. Very rarely were things here as they seemed.

Jason shifted onto the balls of his feet, eager for a closer look.

It rarely got cold enough to snow in Gotham – the best they could usually ask for was an icy sleet that melted into blackened sludge the moment it hit the streets – but as Jason crept closer, that sleeting rain began to crystalize into true flurries. They collected in the street rat’s hair, reflecting the meagre light of the cemetery’s gas lamps and making his hair and clothes appear to be an even deeper black. The image of a black hole surrounded by a glittering crown of stars flashed through Jason’s mind, there one second and gone the next, and Jason had to physically blink the vision away.

The chains on the rat’s beat up combat boots shifted and jangled as he straightened from his crouch and let out a foggy sigh into the icy December air. Jason tensed, ready to follow silently, when the kid’s head snapped to the side and he locked eyes with Jason.

Jason’s chest seized.

His gaze was sharp, icy and blue, and Jason's entire body locked up. It only lasted a moment, but he felt a wave of dread fall over him so acute that he had to resist the urge to tuck and roll away from whatever looming threat must be there. But then it was gone, leaving only a wave of goosebumps and shaky legs in its wake.

What the fuck was that?

It reminded him of that time he took a glancing blow from Mr. Freeze’s freeze gun. Jason gave a violent shiver as the feeling subsided and rolled to his feet. He didn’t know what was going on here, but hiding in the shadows wasn’t gonna get him anywhere anymore.

Sorry not sorry, B.

He rose from his crouch and stepped out fully from the long shadow of the tree, chin lifted and shoulders back. He’d gotten rid of the helmet a few months back, but the black muzzle, domino mask, and armored hood that shadowed his face worked just as well for intimidation. He knew his size, too, could be a decent deterrent for a lot of people, and he didn’t shy away from using that to his advantage. However, the street rat just stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned to face him, seemingly nonchalant.

Well, Jason was right – he wasn’t a kid. But he didn’t strike Jason as particularly adult, either. He had the barest hints of baby fat left in his cheeks, placing him at around 19 or 20 in Jason’s mind; possibly older if he had a bad case of baby face. There was a silvery web of scarring peeking out of the high neck of the gray compression shirt he wore below the hoodie. It crept out from his collar, up his neck, and just over the hinge of his jaw. It was a lucky find in terms of identifying the rat, but Jason couldn’t help a twinge of empathy.

Facial scars were a bitch.

To Jason’s surprise, it was the street rat that spoke first. And it wasn’t even to beg for his life or immediately spill his guts at the sight of the Red Hood’s signature glowing red eyes. Instead, it was a challenge.

“You gonna come tell me what this is about?” The street rat called across the increasingly snowy green. He sounded completely calm, apparently not at all phased by the Red Hood’s sudden presence in his very obvious crime scene. “Or d’ya wanna brawl about it first?” His accent was vaguely midwestern and his tone was lilting and playful. He was ballsy, Jason'd give him that. Asking the Red Hood for a fight was asking to have your teeth knocked out, but the rat didn’t seem to know that. He didn’t seem to know anything about the Red Hood at all.

For a long moment, it was just the wind and the snow between them. The air was crisp with tension and Jason wondered what the street rat was thinking. He looked utterly calm, but his body was loose in a way that Jason knew meant he could jump into action at any moment. Jason locked away the green-tinged itch to lunge or swing or tackle.

Instead, he slowly shifted out from behind the weeping willow, sweeping some of its long branches out of his way. The rat didn’t look particularly phased by his approach.

“You new to town, kid?” Jason asked lowly as he stalked forward. Because he was increasingly certain this guy hadn’t been in New Jersey let alone Gotham for longer than a week, max. “Y’ain’t gonna last long, picking fights.”

The street rat shrugged, all slouchy and nonchalant in his oversized sweatshirt. He should’ve been freezing in the newly drifting snow, but he looked perfectly comfortable. There wasn’t even a flush to his pale cheeks.

“It’s not picking a fight if we both want it,” he said. “Y’know, like consent.” Just then, there was a tug in Jason’s chest and he swore he saw a flash of green in the rat’s eyes. Jason stopped dead in his tracks.

“What–” Jason cut himself off, literally biting his tongue. There was green swamping his vision and a pushing tension in his muscles, but Jason was in control, damn it. He’d worked hard to create a leash of pure will and he wasn’t gonna let some scrawny street rat of all people break it.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, the Pits insisted. Jason shoved the thought away.

“I’m not coming on to you, by the way,” the rat continued, leaning a hip against the headstone. Jason’s headstone. He felt a snarl rise in his throat. He choked it down. “Just offering a friendly brawl before we get to talking. To get the tension out of the way, you know.”

He was saying everything so casually, but Jason was having a difficult time wrapping his head around it. Who the hell asked to be knocked around by someone three times their size? Outside of the bedroom and kink clubs, that was. Had Jason stumbled across some sort of gang initiation by accident?

When Jason didn’t respond (wait, observe, understand), the street rat’s lazy smile grew feral around the edges. Jason felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and he instinctually braced for impact.

“C’mon,” the street rat goaded. His eyes glinted a sickeningly familiar green. “Fight me,” he hissed.

And the Pits screamed.

Jason was in motion before he could fully comprehend what was happening. He was up and sprinting across the 15 yards separating him and the street rat. He felt the snarl rip itself out of his throat and the next moment his fist connected with ice-cold flesh.

The street rat toppled over backward with a yelp, landing in the dirty snowy mix behind him. Jason was on him again before he could stop himself. There was something fizzing in his veins, rising in a viridescent wave that made his blood sing and his teeth buzz. It felt like the sweetest moments of being Red Hood – smashing a crowbar into the faces of pedophiles, kneecapping traffickers, battering the bodies of those stupid enough to break the rules in his territory, his home. His whole body was alight with an incandescent rage. It felt spectacular.

He lined up another punch, baring his teeth behind his mask, but suddenly he wasn’t touching the ground anymore. That is, until he landed in an explosion of snow a few yards away.

Jason hissed at the impact but was back on his feet immediately. Good thing, too, because the street rat was on him again in an instant. They rolled in the snow, grappling and trading blows. He elbowed the rat in the face once, twice, before he caught Jason squarely under the jaw with a knee, leaving him seeing stars.

Leaving your guard down in exchange for getting hits in – sloppy, Bruce commented in his mind. Jason seethed, tasting blood, and redoubled his efforts. The two of them broke apart and back together again and again, kicking and clawing and spitting like feral cats, until the street rat launched him against a tree with a particularly strong kick.

All of the breath punched out of him and Jason saw stars as his head and back collided with the wood. He collapsed to the ground with a groan, every part of his body aching. He struggled to get his feet back under him before the rat could slam into him again.

A cackling laugh cut through the ringing in Jason’s ears and he forced himself into a defensive position. The street rat was standing a few feet away, grinning fiercely in the now heavily falling snow – how had Jason missed that the flurries had kicked up into a full blown winter storm? The rat’s hair was mussed up from their tussling, ponytail barely clinging to life, and Jason could see blood in his teeth. The Pit crooned happily at the sight.

Wait, happy–?

“I was not expecting you to pack that much of a punch!” The street rat crowed before Jason could follow that line of thought. He cringed at the loud sound. Probably a concussion, then. “Are you sure you’re not a full ghost? Like really, man, you kinda gave me a run for my money.” He was circling his arm, likely testing the spot Jason had kicked with his steel toed boots. Jason took the reprieve as a chance to stagger more fully to his feet.

“What are you,” he asked. He didn’t entirely mean to, but his self control was pretty shot at the moment. There was blood dripping into his eye and he quickly wiped it away so as to not let it obscure his vision.

The street rat tilted his head at him like a curious dog.

“Uh, I’m like you,” he said, as if that was supposed to mean something. Jason almost hissed.

“You’re not human,” he said instead, trying to keep his voice steady.

The street rat stared at him for a long moment. His eyes were back to their icy blue, but Jason wasn’t fooled. When he tentatively took a step forward, Jason shifted a step back.

“Wait a second,” he said, holding up his hands. “Do you… not know what you are?” The question was soft, surprised, and oddly sorrowful. The wording of it itched at something under Jason’s skin. What he was? He was human… right?

“I’m human,” was all he could think to say. It sounded weak even to his ears.

The two of them just looked at each other as the snow and howling wind started to die down. Jason analyzed the slightly pointed ears and sharper-than-normal canines, recategorizing the information in his brain. The street rat opened his mouth to say something, but just then the rev of a motorbike engine sounded distantly and he flinched back. 

Familiar headlights flashed at the front gates of the cemetery and Jason remembered suddenly that he’d invited Nightwing to meet him here. Jeez, how long had they been fighting?

He wiped again at the blood streaming from his forehead, though he knew hiding the wound from Dickie would be impossible. The street rat rocked on his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets once again. He looked the most uncertain he had all night and Jason knew right then he’d lose him if he didn’t get his hands on him right now.

The rat seemed to realize the same thing, and he skipped backwards right as Jason lunged for him, avoiding being grabbed by the front of his hoodie by mere millimeters. Jason shot out his other hand to snag him by the stupid chains hanging from his belt, but between one breath and the next, the rat disappeared. Honest to god disappeared like a goddamn ghost.

The irony was not lost on him.

Jason staggered to a stop and stood, panting, in the slowly dissipating snow. A moment later, Nightwing was at his side, escrima sticks crackling in his hands. His big brother scanned the area but the street rat was nowhere to be seen. Wing turned to him, evaluating, and hissed when he saw Jason’s forehead.

“What happened?” He demanded, stowing his weapons. He reached for Jason then hesitated, hand hovering near his face, before he eventually retracted it. Jason had long since adjusted to the sting of disappointment from those almost-touches. “Jaybird?”

Jason stared at his dug-up grave sitting empty and cold a few yards away. Something glinting and green glowed from under the drifted snow.

“I think,” Jason rasped, “I just fought a ghost.”

⋆˖⁺⊹₊⋆✧⋆₊⊹⁺˖⋆

Danny floated in the expansive green of his realm. Sometimes he kept it looking like a home so that his friends and sister could visit, but when he was there alone, he liked to allow it to shift and reform along with his mood. Right now he felt empty and confused, and the space reflected that. Whorls of green surrounded him, spiraling away into the distance in time with his thoughts.

That ecto-entity in Gotham bothered him. He’d felt off, but Danny had chalked it up to the fact that Gotham itself was off. It was like a dead zone for ghostly activity despite the abundance of death and ambient ectoplasm. Maybe he should’ve known something was up when the being had approached him, then.

He’d initiated a friendly brawl to help burn off the fizzing ecto-energy that had been pumping off the guy in waves. He’d only felt energy like that from the few poltergeists he’d encountered. How was he supposed to know the guy didn’t know he was still dead?

The revelation was startling and more than a little concerning. He’d never met an ecto-entity who thought they were still alive before. Usually the whole dying and waking up in the Realms thing cleared that right up.

Was it possible the guy had skipped entering the Infinite Realms entirely and had somehow ended up back on Earth anyway? It made sense with the obvious lack of recognition he’d had of Danny, and the strange vibes he’d been putting off. Even in human form, most sentient ghosts and ecto-entities inherently recognized who Danny was, or at least his title. Apparently the aura of the Ghost King wasn’t easily missed.

So what the hell was up with Gotham dude?

Danny groaned and rubbed his face. His visit to Gotham was supposed to be an easy retrieval mission – in and out before Lady Gotham noticed his presence enough for it to become a problem. Now he not only had to return to retrieve what he missed the first time, but he should probably stick around to figure out what was up with the being he’d encountered. Even putting aside the confusion about his living status, the guy felt off. More than was normal even for Gotham, Danny was realizing.

Well. At least he had an excuse to poke around the land of the living some more. Ever since receiving the crown and ring, he’d been spending more and more time in the Infinite Realms. Not a problem, exactly, but Danny did miss Earth. He was still alive, after all, even if it was only halfway. Plus the Observants were way less likely to bother him on the living plane, especially if he was in Lady Gotham’s haunt.

Agh, right, Lady Gotham. He should probably actually address his excursions into her territory before she decided to do something about it. Even as King, he wasn’t dumb enough to mess with something as fearsome as an Earth-Borne. Ghosts that existed as concepts borne from concentrated amounts of intense emotion seeping into the Infinite Realms from the land of the living were especially gnarly to deal with. They were a bit like the Never-Born in that they didn’t operate like a typical ghost. They were more powerful and played by different rules based on the emotions that they fed off of. And with the amount of terror and dream Gotham was constantly generating, Lady Gotham was fearsome indeed.

Damn. That meant more etiquette lessons with Dorothea. While Danny could probably take Lady Gotham in a fight (he could probably take just about anyone who wasn’t an Ancient at this point) he didn’t particularly like to engage in battle if he could help it. His approach to ruling was distinctly hands-off when it came to battling (much to the chagrin of his more violence-attuned subjects). If he wanted to avoid a spat with Lady Gotham, he’d better get his ducks in a row before he dared to enter her City again.

Dorothea would be thrilled, at least. She loved nothing more than making plans for how Danny should interact with certain ghosts and entities. It soothed her Obsession, he thought, to work so closely with a King.

With a flick of his hand Danny summoned the door out of his pocket dimension and floated toward it. It’d be best to get started on learning how to approach Lady Gotham as soon as possible. He still had an artifact to hunt down and the added issue of the red eyed ecto-entity haunting Gotham. He mentally added that to the list of things to mention in his meeting with Lady Gotham. That is, if she didn’t try to smite him for invading her Haunt without warning once already.

Ghosts could be so dramatic.

⋆˖⁺⊹₊⋆✧⋆₊⊹⁺˖⋆

“This will not stand!” Damian shouted, voice echoing through the Cave. “You will return my katana to me at once before I run you through and–”

“Run me through with what, Dami,” Steph countered. “Your sword? Oh, wait.” She dangled the youngest Robin’s katana from loose fingers, just beyond his reach from where he sat in the infirmary bed. “It’s mine now, isn’t it?”

“You insipid, ungrateful–”

“Damian,” Duke chided from his seat at the bat computer. “You know what Alfred said about getting worked up.”

“Pennyworth is not my keeper. I am the blooded heir and I will not lower myself to be bossed around nor corralled by ingrates such as yourselves.”

“Then why don’t you get up,” Stephanie goaded. “C’mon, your sword’s right here.” She did a few test swipes with it through the air. Damian hissed at her.

“Stop that at once! You have no right to handle such a weapon!”

“Come get it from me then!”

“Father’s rules state that after a significant injury you aren’t to leave the infirmary bed until your health and wellness have been confirmed by–”

“An ingrate such as Alfred?” Bruce asked dryly as he entered the cave. Damian snapped his mouth shut, face pinched as if he’d sucked on a lemon. Steph cackled. “What did I say about the word ‘ingrate’ Damian?”

“But father–”

“We’ll speak about it later, son. I received word from Nightwing to expect him and Red Hood at the cave soon, ETA 2 minutes.”

That got everyone’s attention. Even Tim looked up from where he’d been poring over files on a new rogue reported in the Bowery. Damian’s katana wilted in Steph’s hand.

“Wait, Jason’s coming here?” She asked. “Willingly?” Damian used her momentary distraction to lean far out of bed and swipe the blade out of her hand. She stuck out her tongue at him.

“Yes,” was Bruce’s only response.

Tim and Duke shared a look over the top of the computer. Dick coming down from Blüdhaven was one thing, but Jason…

“Is something big going down?” Tim asked. “Or is someone, like, dying?”

“No one’s dying. Jason and Dick encountered an unknown entity and are returning to the cave to report on it.”

“An unknown entity?” Damian sounded far too excited for Bruce’s liking. “What sort of entity? Is it one we haven’t encountered before? Father, you have to allow me to–”

“We will wait for Nightwing and Red Hood’s intel before making any plans of action,” Bruce said with finality. His gathered children tittered and whispered amongst themselves but didn’t argue. A rare blessing.

A minute later, the sound of twin engines and the bay doors to the Bat Cave opening reached their ears and Bruce stalked forward to greet his sons.

“Nightwing, Red Hood. Report.”

Jason glowered at him as he took off his helmet but didn’t sneer or glare like Bruce expected. He looked tired and drawn and there was blood crusted in his hairline. Bruce’s heart gave a wounded squeeze but he’d learned long ago that his concern was not appreciated. Not when it came to Jason. Dick spoke up on his behalf, instead.

“Jay encountered somebody in Gotham Cemetery tonight,” he reported dutifully. “They left this behind,” he tossed a Wayne Enterprises containment device to Tim, who nimbly snatched it out of the air, “after they picked a fight with Jay and subsequently disappeared once I pulled up.”

“Disappeared?” Nightwing nodded.

“Yeah, into thin air apparently.”

Bruce considered this for a moment. A meta with possible teleportation abilities skulking around Gotham’s cemetery. Not a pressing issue, exactly, but one that should be looked into.

“Subject description?” Dick looked at Jason who sighed.

“Approximately 5’8” or 5’9” male with dark hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. Distinguishing factors include multiple piercings on both ears – lobe and upper lobe, multiple helixes, and a daith. Industrial piercing on the left ear. Slightly elongated canines and pointed ears. Lichtenberg scar on the left side of the neck from the jaw down to an indeterminable point beneath the clothing.”

“Did they have something to do with the Lazarus Pits?” Tim’s voice cut in before Bruce could ask more questions. Damian and Bruce both turned sharply to look at him.

“Why do you ask that, son?” Bruce asked as calmly as he could. The Lazarus Pits were a touchy topic for just about everyone, but especially Damian and Jason.

Tim didn’t respond. He just silently held up the containment device that had unfolded to reveal a glowing green amulet within its radiation-proof walls. Damian sucked in a sharp breath and hopped off the bed to join Tim in inspecting the artifact. Bruce didn’t object.

The Lazarus Pits. He dared an assessing look at Jason. He didn’t look particularly enthused at the mention of the Pits, but he also didn’t seem to be holding back that ever-present anger that hung off him like an albatross these days. He looked drawn and tired, if anything.

“They were one of Ra’s?” Bruce asked instead of demanding his children step away from the Pit-contaminated artifact. He could confront the emotions all of this inspired in him later. Right now, he needed to learn as much as he could before Jason inevitably stormed off.

“Jay said he didn’t think so,” Dick replied. “He said they were a possible meta, or possibly a, ah…” His eldest trailed off, looking at Jason, and Bruce turned his gaze to him as well. Jason met it head on.

“A ghost,” Jason finished bluntly. He had shucked off his leather jacket and draped it over his bike, leaving him in a long-sleeved black compression shirt. He looked so different from the boy Bruce remembered. Bruce frowned.

“A ghost?” Damian scoffed, looking up from where he was leaning over the containment device. “Don’t be ridiculous, Todd. Ghosts aren’t real.”

“And it was hostile?” Bruce pushed on before Jason could get into it with his youngest. He didn’t even spare Damian a glance, though.

Curious. Concerning.

“No,” Jason responded again, surprisingly forthcoming despite his one word answers. Bruce had come to expect far more of a fight when looking for information from the Red Hood.

“Jay said that although they fought, the unknown seemed to regard it more as a kind of sparring than a true fight.”

Steph snickered from the corner and Jason’s gaze flicked to her.

“Sparring? Looks to me like you got beat to hell.”

It was true. Bruce wanted to believe the report his sons were giving, but in addition to the head wound, Jason was clearly favoring his left leg and the way he stood belied an injury of some sort to his ribs. He wouldn’t be surprised if he were concussed as well, given his strangely tolerant behavior.

Jason, however, just shrugged.

“He called it a friendly brawl. Didn’t pull a weapon or go for any low blows. It was more civil than a round with the brat.” He jerked his chin at Damian.

“He did all that to you without a weapon?” Tim blurted incredulously. Then he visibly withdrew, curling back over his research. The relationship between the two of them was so strained…

“Yeah,” Jason stated simply. It was incredibly tame for an interaction between the two of them and Bruce added this to the growing catalogue of Jason’s strange behaviour after encountering this unknown.

When Jason looked away, Bruce caught Tim mouthing ‘what the fuck’ at Duke. Duke just shrugged helplessly back.

Jason’s behavior was only becoming more curious and more concerning by the moment, and it seemed everyone was noticing.

“Are you… feeling alright, Jason?” Duke asked tentatively, voicing the room’s concern for them. “You seem surprisingly mellow for someone who just brawled with a ghost.”

That got a reaction from Jason. His face cycled through a complicated dance of emotion, and Bruce caught disdain, worry, anger, and oddly enough, relief before his son managed to shut it down. The glances between his siblings signaled that they’d noticed as well.

“The Pits,” Jason began stiffly and Bruce immediately stood up straighter. “Have been… quiet. Since.”

Silence. Bruce felt his own complicated dance of emotions, though he knew better than to let it show on his face. Those handful of words were more than anyone, except perhaps Dick, had heard from Jason about his experience with the Pits. This… unknown entity must have rattled him more than Bruce had first thought.

“Jaylad,” he said softly. He tried to catch his son’s eyes, and to his surprise, Jason let him. His son’s answering look was so weary, so world-worn and wary of Bruce that he almost gave up on finding the words. But. He remembered Alfred’s quiet assertions that just because Jason pulled away didn’t mean that they should stop reaching out. How close Jason had allowed Dick to get these past few months was a testament to that.

So, instead of biting down his concern and demanding a blow by blow of the entire encounter, Bruce crossed to where Jason stood stiffly beside his bike. When Jason didn’t growl or tell him to fuck off, he placed a gentle hand on his arm. “What happened?”

There was a moment of stark silence before Jason shrugged him off. It wasn’t unexpected, but Bruce couldn’t deny the sting of pain it caused. 

“Ask Wing,” his son bit out. He turned suddenly and brushed past Bruce without actually making contact with him, feet aimed for the elevator to the manor. “I’m going upstairs.”

“Jay,” Dick protested at the same time that Bruce called, “Jason, don’t leave! We need to figure this out.”

Jason only turned around once he’d stepped inside the elevator. He gave Bruce a familiar sneer, but there were no glowing green eyes to back it up.

“You got by just fine without me for three years. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

The doors closed on Jason’s sneering face, but despite it all, deep down in Bruce’s heart, a spark of hope had begun to grow.

[chososcamgirl]

Satoru loved birthdays.

Not just his own, though he relished them like they were something sacred, but everyone’s. A stranger’s across the street, his peers, the people in the world whose names he’d never know. He’d always pause and look, taking in the quiet joy, the little moments that seemed so fleeting but meant so much—feeling that flicker of warmth in his chest. He’d never explain it much, but if you asked him why he loved birthdays so much, his answer was always the same.

“It’s the one day where it’s all about you. Not anyone else. Just you,” he’d say, a lazy grin on his face as he lay in the grass beneath that old weeping willow. His hands tucked behind his head, as if to offer himself a moment of peace in a world that constantly demanded more of him.

It wasn’t an egotistical thing. No. Far from it. It was a confession, a memoir. It was the one day when everything paused—the world, the expectations, the weight of his duties as a jujutsu sorcerer. Just one day where it was his moment. His time to exist without the looming shadow of the people who needed him, without the ticking clock of inevitable danger, without the crushing pressure of saving a broken world.

Just him.

And he loved it. The rush of happiness he’d get when everyone sang, how the cake always tasted sweeter with every year, the way the memories clung to him like a second skin. But most of all, he loved the people he shared it with.

With you.

You were his haven, his solace. His heart. And that love, that devotion, was etched into every inch of his world. Evidence of your birthdays together—scattered across his room, taped to the walls, buried in his wallet, and sealed tight in his heart. Your love was everywhere in his life, and for once, he let himself believe it could last forever.

But you can’t hug a memory. You can’t wrap your arms around it and pretend it’s still real.

And the day you lost him, you lost everything. All of it—the comfort, the laughter, the moments you thought would last forever—vanished in the blink of an eye. You were still so young, still so wrapped up in him, in that fragile little world where his presence was a constant, where it was hard to imagine your life without him there.

You hadn’t even gotten used to it yet—the second toothbrush in the bathroom, the extra pair of shoes by the door, the warm hands that slipped around your waist when you least expected it, and the way his laughter filled the corners of every room.

He was your comfort, and you lost that.

December 7th, 2024

9:34 PM

And there you were, in the empty, suffocating darkness of your kitchen. The place that once pulsed with life, with music, with dancing—barefoot, tangled in a song you never quite knew the words to. Now, it was just you. Alone. A solitary candle flickering weakly in front of you, casting long, trembling shadows that seemed to stretch across your heart. The only light in the room. The only reminder of what used to be.

Six years. Six years of carrying this silent tradition.

The habit, the way your fingers would absently twist the engagement ring around your index finger, the one without the twin that should’ve been there—the one that never met the other. It had become almost instinctive.

It wasn’t just a piece of metal anymore—it was a tether, a cruel reminder. A reminder that you were still here, still breathing, even though everything inside you had died the moment he was taken. A reminder of the future you’d never get to have. A future that would never be his and yours. You had learned to wear the absence, to run your thumb over the cool, empty space next to it, as if that could somehow ease the ache that burrowed deep inside of you.

Your vision blurred. The tears always came when you least expected it. You blinked them away. This wasn’t about you. This was about Satoru. The one day that was always meant to be his. You close your eyes and let his words slip into your mind, soft and familiar. The ones he used to say so easily, so assuredly.

“It’s the one day where it’s all about you. Not anyone else. Just you.”

And so you silently sang, the words stuck in your throat, each note more broken than the last. You blew out the candle, feeling the soft, familiar warmth of the flame die out before you. It didn’t matter that you were alone. If Satoru were here, he would’ve stolen the icing off the candle long before you even had a chance to blink.

You pulled out the delicate china, the kind you’d kept hidden all year, only bringing it out on this one day—his day. Not only plating up the cake; but also your pain along with it. The vanilla hojicha was as sweet as it had always been, but it tasted bitter in your mouth. It was his favorite, but there was no joy left in it now.

"Happy birthday, Toru," you whispered, your voice thin and fragile in the empty space around you.

Forever, with a heart that would never stop aching for him. Forever, with the crushing weight of a love that had no end, even if he was gone. Forever, in a world where birthdays would never be the same without him.

35 today. But 29 forever.

a/n : quick little something i wrote up :’) sjap coming later today. haven’t posted a one shot in a while because they mostly stay in my notes app lmfao. happy birthday gojo!

masterlist

[gracebriarwoodwrites]

I need to look like a person again. I'm sick of looking like a kicked dog, because that resemblance makes people want to kick you, or look away, or ask questions like who kicked you and why don't you look like a person?

If I could look like a person right now, I would be doing it. Questions don't help. I need options.

A haunted doll could work. I could dig my collection out of my parents' basement, brush off the dust and study their frilly, composed gloom. I can copy it. It worked when I was young. But dolls can shatter, and I'm taller now. I'll mirror a willow tree, swaying in the wind and growing. People don't mind the weeping a willow does because you can get shade and poetry and medicine from the tree. That'll do.

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1328

Chapter 44:

The vine around your neck kept pulling you away, the struggle to fight it without your magic proving worthless, and yet you kept trying.

Hearing Agatha's screams of pain as she also tried to fight off Rio was driving you mad, but as the sun covered the moon fully, you were left powerless to act.

Eventually, the vine came to a halt, your head pressed against the wooden fence separating Agatha's House from the house right next to it.

Suddenly, more vines spread from the ground; wrapping around your wrists and your ankles, keeping you in an almost crucified position.

You tried to pull them again, and you had to bite your lip, feeling the pain coming from the thorns protruding from the green plants. They were never meant to kill you, just harm you enough when you tried to fight them.

The position alone did not help. A position you had once found excitement now only brought fear. That fear was not for you, though.

It was for Agatha.

It was the fear that you would once again fail to help her. The fear that Rio would harm her until Agatha gave in... the fear that you would be a spectator to this sadistic show of power between the two former lovers.

As if your desperation and need for help had been manifested by the universe, you felt a tingling sensation of magic approaching; for a moment, you wondered if the newcomer was an ally or a foe

You looked up, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of Billy in full costume, crown, and power; flying towards you.

All questions about how he got control over them or how he found you got thrown out of the window, hope flattering within your chest; a proof that you could somehow still win this.

"Billy!" You called him out, a tired smile forming.

"Y/N," he exclaimed as he stopped levitating, noticing you trapped by the vines.

Before he could question why you were trapped and not fighting, you interrupted him.

"Help, Agatha!" You shouted at him above the winds. He tried to argue, hesitating, but once again, you did not leave him. "I will be fine! Help her!"

With hesitation, he nodded and flew towards Agatha; readying his powers to blast Rio away from the magicless witch.

The fact that he was now present was a good thing, but it did little to ease worry growing inside of you. No matter how powerful he truly was, he was still a child; untrained.

And Rio... she was an undefeated force, one that could never truly die.

You wanted to help, and so you tried to fight the vines holding you hostage once again. The thorns dug deep into your skin, drawing blood, and yet you used that pain to fuel your attempts.

Defeat was slowly crawling in, and you were so close to giving up, feeling helpless. As you did that you barely noticed, the eclipse was over, and slowly, the first rate of moonlight had started to appear.

'Please,' you begged into your mind. 'Please help me save them'.

You continued mentally praying, hoping whatever ethereal power was out there would feel pity for you.

In that moment of helplessness, you could help but think back to all those years... to en era when you never felt that way.

The first time was back in Salem. You were a child no older than six years old, and yet your powers could surpass the powers of most witches. When you were a child , you never fet helpless, and you always took pride in what you could do.

Then they started criticising you, warning you that you were out of control. They started putting fear in your mind, telling you that without some self awareness, you would harm someone.

And when you actually did harm someone, when you actually started to hold back; you started to forget just how powerful truly were.

Only one person, back then, had tried to change that... Agatha.

You were both teenagers, sitting under a weeping willow. Side by side, you rested your head on her shoulder; fingers interlocked.

In your free hand, you held a flower you had plucked on your way to meet her, and you spun it around between your thumb and index finger.

That day was her birthday, and you had chosen to meet, only for you to confess to Agatha how you felt lately; that growing fear that you would truly harm someone with your powers.

Evanora's pressure on you, to harm and end Agatha,had definitely not helped ease your worries or feel better bout yourself... and your powers.

"You shouldn't listen to them,"she commented as her thumb caressed your skin."You shouldn't hold back for anyone."

"And what if i harm someone?" You looked at her. "What if I harm you?"

Agatha pecked your nose. The now 18 year old always chose to peck you there when younger and you were nervous. Even though, now, you were almost 16, she bever stopped.

"I trust you. I know you never would, no matter how powerful you become."

How many times did Agatha support you? Did she keep telling you to stop holding back? To stop being afraid?

How many times did Rio hold a similar stance?

"You shouldn't be afraid of your powers," she had commented one day after sering you hesitating casting a spel.

"I am not afraid, I am self-aware. There is a difference," you had argued, even though you did not believe it yourself.

"Right, and I don't show up where corpses are." She sat behind you, her longer legs trapping you within them as they spread on each side of you. "You are different than the rest, so why deny yourself that?" Her hands were placed above yours, magic subconsciously reacting; causing an exciting sense of thrill and faint pain. "Why hold back?"

A new memory flashed into your minds, the voice of a woman you did not expect to bring up in such a dire situation.

"Stop holding back. Face your fear."

Lilia had told you those words just before she left you go into the iron maiden. She could have told you anything else, knowing you would never mert again and yet... she chose those words because she knew something more, she had seen it.

The sound of fighting was faintly reaching your ears, reminding you that while you were laying there; contemplating about your life... Agatha and Billy were fighting for theirs.

You should have been there, helping them. You should be by Agatha's side as you promised, do something different compared to all those times you didn't.

And then it hit you.

This was a trial, and it was your trial.

All those times you have chosen to step back, to hold back your power... you potential , your love for Agatha.

There was only one way to end this, to truly honour your promise and be by her side...

And so you took a deep breath, concentrating as you felt the weak rays of moonlight upon your skin. You concentrate harder than ever, digging deep into your magic core. You tried to remember the power you always had, but you were always afraid of it.

Eyes close tightly during your attempt, a tear escaping and rolling on your cheek as you went deeper... and deeper.

The right hand, the very same one branded with the moonmark, wrapped around the vine holding it trapped and with one last effort you've started to summon on your magic in your hand; using it to burn the very same vine holding you hostage.

As you felt your power spreading across your body, burning your restraints... you didn't celebrate in triumph or clapped in joy.

Instead, you fought harder and harder to release it, barely registering the white light engulfing your body, giving you a boost you had never felt before as you finally.

Stopped. Holding. Back.

Chapter 45