#and ugh..custom fangs..

[solxamber]

1800-Curse-Control || Lilia Vanrouge

You decide to open a hotline for curing curses with Lilia. It goes exactly how you imagined it would—maybe even a little better.

“Lilia,” you said, rubbing your temples as you leaned against the counter in Ramshackle’s disaster of a kitchen. “Grim’s eating me out of house and home, literally. If I can’t afford the repairs soon, the roof will cave in. But all he cares about is premium tuna! Do you know how much that stuff costs?”

Lilia, who was casually floating upside down for no apparent reason, looked entirely too entertained. “Ah, the plight of a homeowner,” he said, grinning. “Why not turn your misfortune into opportunity? I’ve been told I have exceptional customer service skills, and I’ve been dreadfully bored. Let’s open a hotline for removing curses!”

You blinked at him. “A hotline. For curing curses.”

“Yes, my dear beastie,” he said, flipping upright midair and landing gracefully. “Think about it! This school is crawling with fools who drink unlabeled potions, poke magical artifacts, and anger vengeful spirits just for sport. You’d be rich in a week!”

“…I hate how much sense that actually makes.”

“It’s a foolproof plan,” Lilia continued, already pulling a notepad from somewhere to scribble down ideas. “I’ll handle the exorcisms and the cackling, naturally. You, my dear entrepreneur, can be the charming face of the operation. We’ll call it—hmm—‘Curse-B-Gone.’”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine, ‘Hex Hotline.’”

You considered it. On one hand, it sounded completely ridiculous. On the other hand, there was that third-year who accidentally swapped his voice with a frog’s last week and the freshmen who kept mysteriously sprouting feathers.

“…How much are we charging?”

“Ah-ha! I knew you’d come around!” Lilia said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s see, we’ll need tiers. Minor hex removal? Hundred thaumarks. Major curses—hair-growing hexes, spontaneous transformation curses—those will start at Five Hundred.”

“And what about something, like, really bad? What if someone’s whole body turns into a pumpkin or something?”

“That’s a premium package. One thousand thaumarks.”

You nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay, I’m in. But if this flops, you’re buying Grim’s tuna for the next month.”

Lilia smirked, his fangs glinting mischievously. “Deal.”

By the end of the day, you’d set up a magical hotline using some weird orb Lilia “borrowed” from the library, a vaguely threatening poster campaign across the campus (“Cursed? Hexed? A jackal-headed god show up at your dorm? Call us!”), and a suspiciously well-stocked supply of anti-curse materials Lilia claimed were “leftovers” from his youth.

You weren’t sure whether to feel excited or like you’d just signed up for the most bizarre mistake of your life. Either way, you couldn’t wait to see how this would go down.

The orb hotline rang for the first time, glowing ominously on the rickety desk in Ramshackle. You and Lilia exchanged glances.

“Answer it!” he whispered, like this was some spy mission and not a cursed customer service line.

With a deep breath, you picked it up. “Uh… Hello, this is the Cursed and Confused Hotline. How can we—”

“YOU HAVE TO HELP ME!” Ace’s voice screamed on the other end. “HE’S GOING TO KILL ME THIS TIME!”

You winced, holding the orb away from your ear. “Ace? What happened?”

“I DON’T KNOW! I WAS JUST TRYING TO MAKE TEA!”

“Okay, and?”

“And I might’ve…accidentally used that weird sugar in the Heartslabyul pantry, the one that glows in the dark? And now Riddle’s head is covered in, like…peonies. Big, pink peonies. They keep growing whenever he gets mad, which, uh, is always.”

You slapped your forehead. “You cursed your housewarden?!”

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO!” Ace wailed. “I thought it was sugar, not cursed fertilizer! Look, can you just fix this before he declares ‘off with my head’ for real?”

“Ugh, fine. Where are you now?”

“Hiding in the rose bushes. He hasn’t found me yet, but I think I heard him sharpening a guillotine.”

“Classic Heartslabyul,” Lilia said cheerfully, already packing his so-called emergency kit.

When you and Lilia arrived at Heartslabyul, it was pure chaos. Riddle stood in the center of the garden, his face as red as his hair—and also half-obscured by an explosion of giant pink peonies blooming out of his head like some cursed bouquet.

“TREY!” Riddle bellowed. “GET THE GARDEN SHEARS!”

Ace was crouched in a rose bush nearby, whispering frantically. “Please tell me you brought an anti-cursed-flower spray or something!”

You ignored him and approached Riddle cautiously. “Uh, Riddle? You’ve got—”

“I KNOW WHAT I HAVE!” Riddle shrieked, a few more flowers blooming on his head. “I demand immediate remedy! Or else—”

“We’ll fix it,” Lilia cut in, grinning like this was the most fun he’d had in centuries. “Now, let’s see…” He pulled a vial of glowing liquid from his kit. “This should do the trick.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, eyeing the suspiciously fizzing vial.

“Of course not,” Lilia said, popping it open.

He dumped the liquid over Riddle’s head without warning. The flowers immediately shriveled up and disappeared.

Riddle blinked, touching his head in astonishment. “…It’s gone?”

“You’re welcome,” Lilia said with a dramatic bow.

Ace peeked out from the bushes. “So…he’s not mad anymore, right?”

Riddle’s death glare answered that question.

“RUN!” you yelled, dragging Ace out of the garden as Riddle shouted about punishment for “sugar crimes.”

Back at Ramshackle, you slumped against the desk. “We’re never doing house calls again.”

Lilia just laughed. “Oh, but the drama! I live for it!”

The hotline orb began glowing again, pulsing with a foreboding, bluish light.

You groaned. “If this is Ace again, I swear—”

Lilia waved his hand. “Come now, it’s probably another entertaining disaster! Answer it!”

You reluctantly picked up. “Cursed and Confused Hotline. What’s your—”

“FIX. THIS. NOW!” came Azul’s shrill, panicked voice.

You blinked. “Azul? What’s—”

“I CAN’T EVEN DESCRIBE WHAT HE’S DONE THIS TIME!”

“Oh, come on, Azul!” Floyd’s voice cut in, cackling in the background. “It’s a masterpiece!”

“Masterpiece?” Azul screeched. “You flooded the dining room and filled it with—WHY ARE THERE EELS IN THE SOUP POTS?”

“Because it’s hilarious!” Floyd howled, clearly having the time of his life.

Jade’s calm voice joined in, oozing politeness as always. “To be fair, Floyd has a point. The eels are thriving in there.”

Azul sputtered like a broken faucet. “THRIVING?! THEY’RE STEALING PEOPLE’S FOOD!”

“Sounds efficient to me,” Floyd said. You could practically hear him smirking. “Dinner and a show!”

Lilia perked up. “Eels in soup pots? How creative!”

“Don’t encourage him!” Azul barked. “Do you know how much it costs to repair the water damage he’s caused? The walls are dripping! The chandelier is dripping! I AM DRIPPING!”

“That’s not cursed,” you said, trying to hide your amusement. “That’s just Floyd being—well, Floyd.”

“Oh, no, it’s cursed,” Azul hissed. “Every time I try to remove the eels, the water level rises. They’re like aquatic squatters! Fix it or I swear I’ll—”

The sound of something massive splashing cut him off, followed by Floyd’s uncontrollable laughter.

“HAHAHA! He slipped into the soup pot! Jade, did you see that?”

“I did,” Jade replied, his voice as smooth as ever. “It was quite elegant.”

“AZUL’S AN EEL NOW!” Floyd cried. “Eel bros for life, baby!”

The orb started vibrating violently.

“Get. Over. Here. Now.” Azul’s voice was barely a whisper, the tone of someone seconds away from an aneurysm.

You sighed and grabbed your bag. “Let’s go before he implodes.”

When you arrived at Mostro Lounge, it was exactly what you expected—and somehow worse. The entire dining area was flooded, eels swam lazily in the soup pots, and Azul was perched on a chair, drenched from head to toe and glaring murderously at Floyd, who was happily paddling through the water like it was his personal playground.

“Finally!” Azul barked, waving his wet hand. “Do something! Anything!”

Floyd, half-submerged in a soup pot, waved at you. “Hey! You wanna join the eel party? First rule—no rules!”

Lilia clapped his hands. “This is magnificent chaos!”

Azul groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I’ll double your pay if you fix this immediately.”

You glanced at Lilia, who was already pouring a suspiciously glowing liquid into the water.

“This should work,” he said cheerfully.

The water started to drain, the eels vanished in puffs of smoke, and the room returned to normal—except for Floyd, who now floated upside down in midair, spinning like a cursed top.

“Whoa, this is AWESOME!” Floyd laughed, twirling like a maniac. “I’m a flying eel!”

Azul sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as you said “I’m charging you extra for emotional damages.”

The hotline orb flared up again, casting a frantic purple glow. You groaned, mid-sip of tea.

“I don’t know if I can handle more insanity.”

Lilia, perched upside down on the couch, grinned. “Nonsense! Chaos keeps the heart young. Answer it!”

Reluctantly, you picked it up. “Cursed and Confused Hotline. What did you do, and how bad is it?”

“It’s me! It’s Epel!” came the desperate, whisper-shouted voice of the Pomefiore freshman. “I need your help—immediately! I’ve got the worst curse of all on me.”

“Worst curse?” you asked, frowning. “What’s going on?”

“Vil,” Epel said, voice shaking. “And Rook.”

“...Epel, those are people, not curses.”

“They are when Vil finds out I repurposed his limited-edition face mask jars as apple cider mugs for the guys in Savanaclaw!”

Lilia burst into a delighted cackle. “Oh, that’s fantastic!”

“Not fantastic! Vil’s gonna flay me alive!” Epel hissed. “And Rook’s hunting me down like a rabbit in the woods. Please, ya gotta help!”

You tried not to laugh. “How exactly do you want me to help? I can’t exactly—”

A loud thud echoed through the call, followed by Epel screaming, “He found me! NO! PUT THAT BOW DOWN!”

“Bonjour, my friend~!” Rook’s voice came through, as smooth as velvet and disturbingly cheerful. “Ah, how beautiful the chase! Like a fox cornered by the hounds, our petit pomme has finally been found!”

“ROOK, NO! DON’T HAND ME OVER!”

“Oh, petit lapin,” Rook said, unbothered, “the punishment will only make you stronger. Think of it as a trial by fire!”

“I DON’T WANT TO BE STRONGER, I WANNA BE ALIVE!” Epel shrieked.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Rook, what exactly are you planning to do with him?”

“Ah, worry not,” Rook replied. “I am but a humble messenger delivering him to justice. Vil has been most patient.”

“HE CALLED ME A PEASANT AND THREW A HEEL AT ME, THAT’S PATIENT?” Epel howled.

Lilia leaned forward, thoroughly entertained. “Rook, at least let us have a word with Epel before he meets his doom.”

“But of course!”

“HELP ME!” Epel screamed the moment Rook handed him the phone. “Distract them, hex me, I dunno, CURSE ME INTO A TREE OR SOMETHING—”

“Epel,” you said firmly, trying not to laugh, “you’re going to have to face Vil eventually. What’s the worst he could do?”

“THE WORST? Oh, I dunno, exile me to a skincare bootcamp for the rest of my natural life?”

Rook’s voice floated in. “Imagine it, petit pomme: cleansing facials, detoxifying baths, and no more cider mugs. A new you!”

“YOU STAY OUTTA THIS!”

You sighed. “I can offer one thing.”

“Anything!”

“An apology. I suggest you start practicing now.”

“An apology?! I called Vil’s collection overhyped snake oil. I’m DOOMED!”

“Not if you run fast enough,” Rook chimed in cheerfully. “Shall we test your stamina?”

The call ended with Epel’s scream, followed by the distinct sound of someone bolting at full speed.

“Well,” Lilia said, smiling. “That was worth every second.”

Jamil’s voice crackled through the orb strained and absolutely done.

"Hi, yeah, it’s me again."

You rolled your eyes. "Let me guess. Kalim tried to throw a party?"

"And Cater," Jamil growled, the sound of something crashing in the background. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to manage one chaos gremlin? Now imagine two. They’ve cursed half the dorm—random objects are coming to life, and singing. And I don’t mean pleasant singing. I mean like if a banshee and a kazoo had a love child."

Lilia leaned in beside you, eyes glittering with delight. "Oho, this sounds entertaining! What did they do this time?"

Jamil sighed deeply, as if he’d just aged ten years in the past ten minutes. "Kalim thought it would be fun to 'spice up' a party by enchanting the decorations. Cater encouraged him, saying it would make a great Magicam post. The result? The curtains are now tap-dancing, the chandelier won’t stop singing old sea shanties, and the punch bowl tried to bite me."

Lilia clapped his hands. "This sounds like an excellent way to spend the afternoon! Let’s go!"

You groaned. "Why do I have to go?"

"Because you’re the only one who can keep Lilia from making things worse," Jamil deadpanned.

Arriving at Scarabia was like stepping into a fever dream. The furniture was waltzing around the room, the ceiling fan was chanting, "Spin me right round, baby, right round," and the aforementioned punch bowl snarled at you as you walked in.

Kalim, of course, was having the time of his life, clapping to the rhythm of the furniture parade. Cater was filming everything, laughing as he tried to get the chandelier to do a TikTok dance.

"Do you see what I have to deal with?" Jamil hissed, his hair practically frazzled.

"Let’s fix this before someone dies," you muttered, pulling out the anti-curse toolkit Lilia had handed you on the way.

"Or before someone posts this to Magicam and the entire world sees it," Jamil added grimly, glaring at Cater.

It started smoothly enough—well, as smoothly as any curse-breaking session with Lilia could go. The two of you worked to unravel the enchantments while dodging flying pillows and shrieking party streamers.

Then, of course, you made the mistake of touching an enchanted lamp.

It burst into song—loud, off-key, and somehow extremely personal. The lyrics were all about your lack of a love life and questionable fashion choices. Before you could fight back, it tangled itself around your arms and legs, dragging you upward toward the chandelier.

"Hey, uh, Lilia? Little help!"

Lilia, ever the dramatic savior, leaped into action. With a mischievous grin, he sliced through the magical binds with a well-aimed spell and caught you mid-fall.

You blinked up at him, heart hammering in your chest. His crimson eyes glimmered with amusement, his fangs showing in a victorious smirk. He cradled you with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible given his stature.

"You alright there, my dear?" he asked, voice low and teasing.

"Yeah, I’m fine," you muttered, face heating up. "Just…you know…trying not to die."

But your brain wasn’t focusing on that. It was too busy processing the fact that Lilia was holding you like you weighed nothing, and you could feel your pulse quickening. Damn it, why is my heart beating so fast?

He tilted his head, studying you with an unreadable expression. "Are you sure? Your face is a bit flushed."

"Nope! Totally fine!" you squeaked, scrambling out of his arms as soon as your feet touched the ground.

Jamil, watching the whole thing from across the room, rolled his eyes. "Great. Now you’re cursed too."

"Shut up, Jamil."

It took another hour, but the dorm was finally back to normal—or as normal as Scarabia could be. Kalim apologized profusely, Cater promised to delete the footage (he didn’t), and Jamil looked like he might snap at any moment.

As you and Lilia walked out, you tried to calm your racing heart, but he leaned in with a knowing grin.

"Quite the adventure today, wasn’t it?"

"Sure," you replied quickly, hoping your face wasn’t still red.

He hummed thoughtfully. "I wonder what’s got your heart racing so much. You’re not catching feelings for your favorite partner-in-chaos, are you?"

"Not a chance," you lied, your heart betraying you with another treacherous thump.

Lilia just chuckled, and you couldn’t tell if he believed you—or if he was just letting you stew in your own embarrassment for fun.

The enchanted orb buzzed frantically, and you groaned as you reached for it. The second you accepted the call, you heard Deuce.

“HELP! WE MESSED UP BAD!”

“Deuce?” you asked, already dreading the answer. “What did you do this time?”

Jack’s voice came through, exasperated and growly. “It wasn’t just him. I was there too.”

“Great,” you deadpanned. “So, what kind of mess am I cleaning up now?”

Deuce gulped. “We, uh… were practicing some spellwork for exams—”

“Right by the Spelldrive practice field,” Jack added grimly.

Your eyes widened. “Please don’t tell me you—”

“Destroyed the field? Yeah,” Deuce admitted miserably. “But we didn’t mean to! The explosion was an accident!”

You heard a sharp, angry voice in the background: “AN ACCIDENT?! YOU DESTROYED HALF THE FIELD, YOU LITTLE—”

“Leona’s there?” you asked, already standing up.

Deuce nodded frantically. “He’s so mad. Please come before he kills us!”

“Stay put,” you said, grabbing your things. “And pray he doesn’t finish you off before we get there.”

The Spelldrive practice field was a warzone. One goalpost was completely obliterated, sand smoldered in random patches across the ground, and an entire section of the bleachers looked like it had been hit by a tornado.

Leona was standing in the middle of the chaos, arms crossed, glaring daggers at Deuce and Jack, who were huddled behind a tipped-over bench like it could save them. His team stood a safe distance away, clearly too smart to get involved.

You arrived with Lilia in tow, who was already grinning like he’d just stumbled upon the most entertaining show of the year.

“Oh, this is delightful,” Lilia mused, surveying the carnage. “It’s like an abstract painting of destruction.”

“Not helping,” you muttered, jogging toward the scene.

Leona’s sharp green eyes locked onto you. “Finally. You gonna fix this mess, or do I get to turn these two into sandbags?”

“Leona,” you said, stepping between him and the disaster twins, “We’ll handle it. Just… don’t murder them. Yet.”

Leona snorted. “You’ve got five minutes.”

Lilia hummed a jaunty tune as he began waving his hands over the destroyed sections of the field. Slowly, the sand settled, the goalpost reformed, and the bleachers stopped looking like they’d gone through a blender.

Meanwhile, you kept Leona from pouncing on Deuce and Jack, who were watching Lilia work with wide eyes.

“You two better hope I don’t find out about another ‘accident,’” Leona growled, looming over you.

“Relax,” you said, holding up a hand. “They’re idiots, not criminals. Save your energy for your team.”

Leona rolled his eyes but stepped back, muttering something about “babysitters.”

When everything was finally back in order, Lilia dusted off his hands with a satisfied smile. “That was quite fun. We should let those two cause chaos more often.”

You shot him a look. “Please don’t encourage them.”

Leona, arms crossed and clearly annoyed, stepped closer. “You’re done? Good. I’ll send Ruggie with something to pay you later.” Then he smirked, eyes flicking between you and Lilia. “Now keep your lovesick asses away from my practice field.”

Your brain short-circuited. “Wha—?! Lovesick?”

Leona just walked off with a lazy wave, leaving you standing there, half-mortified.

Lilia leaned in, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Oh my. He really has a way with words, doesn’t he?”

“Don’t you start,” you muttered, your face burning.

But when you turned to walk away, Lilia was by your side, chuckling softly. He caught your wrist gently, pulling you to a stop for just a moment. “For what it’s worth,” he said, voice quieter and more serious, “you were quite impressive back there, keeping Leona from turning them into mincemeat.”

Your heart did a flip. “Uh… thanks?”

He let go with a grin, stepping back and returning to his usual playful tone. “Now, let’s see if we can avoid the next disaster, hmm?”

You weren’t sure if your face would ever cool down.

Potions class with the first-year gang was never uneventful. Today was no exception. The room smelled faintly of burnt caramel as Grim waved his tiny paws at Ace, who was leaning smugly on the table.

“I told you not to put that in!” Grim yelped.

“I barely touched it!” Ace shot back.

“It doesn’t matter who did it!” Sebek barked, slamming his hands on the table. “What matters is that our potion is—”

“About to blow,” Jack growled, pointing to the cauldron bubbling ominously.

“Wait—WHAT?!” you yelped, but it was too late.

The cauldron erupted, spraying a shimmering pink mist over everyone. The class erupted into chaos as Sebek shouted about “inferior techniques,” Epel coughed dramatically like he was dying, and Deuce tried (and failed) to douse the sparks with his coat.

You, unfortunately, caught the brunt of the potion to the face.

You thought the effects were mild at first—just a faint warmth in your chest and the echo of the sugary-sweet scent in your nose. But when you sat down at lunch with Lilia and Malleus, the symptoms became impossible to ignore.

Lilia was chatting animatedly, laughing at his own jokes and waving his fork in the air, while Malleus nodded thoughtfully. But you weren’t hearing a word.

Your brain had decided that the only thing worth focusing on was how kissable Lilia’s lips looked.

Wait, what?

You shook your head, trying to clear it, but it only got worse. Now you were noticing how nice his voice was. And his smile. And the way his hand brushed yours when he passed the salt—

Oh, no.

“Child of man,” Malleus said, pulling you from your internal meltdown, “you seem… distracted.”

You blinked rapidly. “Uh. Yeah. Distracted. Totally fine. Definitely not—uh—totally infatuated with Lilia or anything.”

Lilia looked up, smirking. “Oh? How flattering.”

You nearly choked on your drink. “IT’S THE POTION!”

Malleus watched you pace back and forth in the hallway, his expression somewhere between amused and curious.

“You have to fix me,” you begged, grabbing his shoulders. “This has to be the potion talking. There’s no way I just—randomly—started thinking about Lilia like that!”

Malleus tilted his head, his eyes studying you intently. “You truly believe you are under an enchantment?”

“Yes! Of course!” You gestured wildly. “I mean, it’s Lilia! He’s my partner in crime! He’s—he’s—”

“Kissable?” Malleus offered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Your hands dropped to your sides. “You are so not helping.”

He stepped closer, his presence calm but commanding, and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Very well, child of man. Allow me to assess your condition.”

Malleus leaned forward, his magic swirling faintly around him as he studied you with eerie precision.

After a moment, he straightened, folding his arms. “The potion you were exposed to was a failure. Its intended effects are nonexistent.”

You froze. “What are you saying?”

Malleus raised an eyebrow. “I am saying that you are not under a spell. Your feelings are entirely your own.”

You stared at Malleus in horror.

“So… you’re telling me… I’m not cursed?”

“Precisely.”

“And this… this whole… wanting to kiss Lilia thing…” You paused, voice dropping to a mortified whisper. “That’s just me?”

Malleus nodded sagely. “Indeed.”

You covered your face with your hands. “No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.”

Lilia’s voice drifted from the next room. “Are you done conspiring with Malleus, beastie? Lunch is getting cold!”

You peeked through your fingers at Malleus, who looked like he was thoroughly enjoying your suffering.

“Good luck, child of man,” he said, patting your shoulder.

You groaned. “I’m going to die.”

And yet, as you returned to the table and sat down next to Lilia, who greeted you with his usual teasing grin, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

You didn’t think it could get any worse than being late for class, but that was before Grim decided to experiment with potions unsupervised. Now, you and Lilia were sprinting through the halls of NRC, dodging a cursed army of flying spoons.

“I told Grim not to use the potions lab as a snack bar!” you gasped, barely ducking as a spoon zoomed past your head with terrifying precision.

Lilia, running beside you, was grinning like this was the most fun he’d had all week. “I must admit, this is an impressive level of chaos. Even I wouldn’t have thought to curse cutlery!”

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” you panted, grabbing his arm as another wave of spoons turned the corner. “Hide!”

The two of you dove behind a nearby tapestry, pressing against the wall as the spoons zipped past, their metallic clinking fading into the distance.

For a moment, it was quiet—except for the pounding of your heart.

Your breathing slowly steadied, but your heart didn’t. Not when Lilia was so close, his eyes gleaming with excitement and his cheeks flushed from the chase.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Lilia,” you blurted, voice trembling but determined, “I’m in love with you.”

Lilia blinked, his surprise evident for a split second before a soft smile curved his lips. “Ah, I see. Was it the spoons that gave me away, or my undeniable charm?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I’m serious!”

He chuckled, gently pulling your hands away to meet your eyes. “So am I. I’ve felt the same for quite some time.”

Your breath hitched. “Really?”

“Really,” he murmured, leaning closer. His lips brushed yours, soft and fleeting, but it sent your heart racing like you were being chased by a thousand cursed spoons.

He pulled back, his grin mischievous. “Now, let’s survive this first date, shall we?”

He grabbed your hand, pulling you from your hiding spot just as the spoons began circling back like a swarm of metallic bees.

“Run!”

You laughed despite yourself, sprinting hand-in-hand with Lilia as the chaos erupted around you once more.

And yet, as you glanced at him—his hair wild, his smile unshakable, his fingers warm around yours—you couldn’t help but think:

I want this forever.

Masterlist

[momosandlemonsoda]

WIP... Monday

It is neither Wednesday nor 6-sentence Sunday but I actually managed to claw some time to myself and write, so here, have some of the next chapter of Dance the Silence Down, where Fang Duobing is Having A Time Of It.

*

It would be perfect if Lianhua looked up to say hi to him, to smile the way he does sometimes, secret and knowing. It would be perfect if A’Fei weren’t already there, leaning over the counter and saying something teasing and intimate to Lianhua, smirk firmly fixed on his unfairly handsome face. Ugh.

Play it cool, Fang Duobing tells himself, play it cool.

And then he registers what A’Fei is saying. 

“It’s next on the list.”

Li Lianhua is looking down at plate he’s making, but Fang Duobing can practically hear his eye roll. “Just because it's on the list doesn’t mean we have to do it.”

“Yeah it does,” A’Fei insists.

Li Lianhua looks up, and yep, there’s the eye roll. “The list is a guide.”

He watches as A’Fei leans over further, catching Li Lianhua’s eyes and holding them—they’re practically eye fucking! In front of all these customers! 

“The purpose of a list is to do the things on it and check them off,” says A’Fei, in a deep, sexy voice.

Now Li Lianhua is smiling, the one that in Fang Duobing’s experience means he’s thinking dirty thoughts. What? The fuck? People have to eat here!

 “Some of them are impossible.”

“Not,” A’Fei says, licking his lips, “if you use your imagination.” He sits up like he’s made his point. “And it’s next on the list.”

Fang Duobing isn’t sure what they’re talking about, but it’s clearly a sex thing. 

Sighing, Li Lianhua turns to the griddle even as he says, “Hi, Xiaobao.” Then, turning back, “Why are you so red? Are you okay?”

“Fine!” he says, voice pitched higher than normal, eyes darting between Lianhua and A’Fei. “I’m fine! What about you?”

Narrowing his eyes, Lianhua gives him a onceover, but all he says is, “If you’re sure.”

“Yes! I’m completely fine!”

Thankfully, Su Xiaoyong shows up then, handing an order over to Lianhua and picking up a couple of plates. Fang Duobing takes the opportunity to bury his face in his coffee cup, which is a mistake because with all the byplay, he’d forgotten to put any sugar or creamer in. The coffee is too-hot and viciously acidic; he barely manages not to spit it out.

[flashphotograph]

Written with @spicycinnabun ❤️️ | Rating: M | cw, read, kudos and comment on ao3 | We have a playlist. 🦇 | Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Can I Keep It?

Chapter 7: Bad Vampire!

Eddie stepped on the gas and took them back towards Lover’s Lake, turning up the music so they could drown their thoughts. Skull Rock was close to Rick’s house, which was funny in a not-so-funny way because Eddie had spent all weekend wishing he was far away from it, and now he was right back. Eddie had spent many a night in these woods, but never for pleasure like Steve. Eddie went purely for business. Horny teenagers were good customers. 

Rock music flooded Steve’s ears. He didn’t mind. It was nice. Steve looked at Eddie for a long moment. The moonlight reflected off his pale skin, highlighting his long, milky neck. It was completely bare; Eddie was still in disguise, his hair pulled back. He was absolutely glowing, and Steve could feel his mouth watering. He quickly turned his attention back out the open window. The breeze brought in a variety of scents, which felt a little less overwhelming than how good Eddie smelled to him. Steve took another deep breath of fresh air.

Fifteen minutes later, Eddie pulled the beemer into the cozy spot multiple tires had sat in before, the grass yellowing in two straight lines. The familiar skull-shaped rock was lit by the car’s head beams, emphasizing the shadowy caverns of its eye sockets and making it look even more Halloweenish than usual.  

What was he thinking, going into the woods alone with a hungry, possessed vampire? Was he stupid? Yes, Eddie’s brain supplied for him immediately, very stupid. But would the guy who’d taken Eddie home, comforted him, and fed him his mother’s cooking really kill him?  

…Maybe, maybe not, but his instincts said no. His gut said no. It had been right about a thousand times before.

Eddie turned down the music, figuring it was probably best they didn’t make too much noise out here. Who knew who, or what, was listening, waiting, or watching. Ugh. “Maybe you can sink your fangs into the raccoon population terrorizing the trailer park,” he suggested. “My uncle’s been unsuccessful in dwindling their numbers so far.”  

Wayne’s attempts consisted of a bunch of broken traps and a lot of cursing. Mostly about all the bullets he would have to waste to kill the damn things. Eddie personally thought they were cute. Tiny trash bandits waving their little hands around and screaming at people who came near their treasure. Their homes had to be in the forest, right? Not only in the dumpster behind his favorite Chinese restaurant, Wok My World. 

As soon as Steve turned his head back in Eddie’s direction, Eddie’s scent invaded his nostrils again. He flared them, trying to stop the excitement that began to pump through him. It felt like he was here on a date, about to get laid. He wished. The bite on his neck started throbbing, and his pulse quickened. He was beginning to feel aroused. 

Eddie’s suggestion distracted him momentarily. However, the thought of munching on raccoons wasn’t appealing to Steve at all. “They’re too cute to eat.” 

Steve kind of thought Eddie had a cute raccoon quality. He was going to have a hard time with this. He didn’t want to get out of the car, and he didn’t want to be a vampire. 

“Too bad,” Steve heard. Not from Eddie but from inside his head. Like somebody was invading his mind. Steve knew that voice. It was the one and only and very��dead, Billy Hargrove. He was doing this? “Harrington, I think you have a little crush on someone, don’t ya?”   

Eddie raised his brows, oblivious. “You’re going to have a hard time finding anything to eat if you think all the animals in the forest are cute.” He poked his tongue out the corner of his mouth. “Maybe you should eat me instead?” 

Eddie wasn’t cute. He probably wasn’t delicious either, but he had to be easier to swallow than raccoons and bunnies. 

Eddie expected Steve to laugh or roll his eyes in that semi-fond, semi-irritated way like he did with the kids (because maybe, just maybe, Eddie was growing on him the same way they had). Instead, he zoned out, expression taking on an eerily dormant quality—lights on but nobody home. Eddie’s smile fell. 

“No!” Steve suddenly yelled, his upper body jerking, expression contorting like he was in pain. A few seconds later, he went limp, head dropping to his chest.   Steve wasn’t saying no about his little crush because he couldn’t even contemplate that… that he had a crush on Eddie. He couldn’t believe Billy was back either—from the dead and currently controlling his entire body. He didn’t want that. Internally, he was pitching a fit; thrashing his body around, growling, foaming at the mouth and throwing punches.

“Sweet baby Jesus, what now? ” said Eddie, almost exasperated by the stress. His stomach felt like it shrivelled to the size of a pea. He reached out, tentatively placing his hand on Steve’s shoulder. Steve only swayed a little; a puppet with its strings cut. “Stevie?” 

Eddie didn’t know what to do. Shake him, slap him, yell at him?  

Steve re-animated just as Eddie started shaking him, lifting his head and rolling his shoulders, dislodging Eddie’s hand from him. His eyes were liquid black, and his face transformed with a smirk. It was a twisted, serpentine thing. Somehow, it didn’t look like it belonged on Steve’s face. It looked like someone else was wearing his face. Possession. “Wrong. It’s kind of pathetic, don’t you think? What you’re doing right now.”  

Eddie gaped. That was Steve’s voice, but it also wasn’t. It had a cruel, mocking quality that didn’t fit Harrington. Not the version Eddie was starting to get to know.  

“I saw everything that happened in his bedroom back there. Do you really think pretty boy is interested in you like that? I mean, even if he does swing that way occasionally, freak meat isn’t what he goes for. ” Not-Steve laughed, and that sounded wrong too. Overly theatrical and biting.  

It didn’t stop Eddie from turning a deep red. Mortified at being outed so casually, angry at being spied on by a fucking Upside Down wizard. At least he wasn’t scared anymore. “Who the fuck are you? Vecna? Get out of Steve!” 

Outside, an owl hooted—the who, who, whooo taunted Eddie in a way that was too coincidental. 

Not-Steve bit his lip in amusement, rolling his eyes. “I can’t claim that title, but maybe one day. I’m someone else.” He shrugged. “And no, I don’t think I will. I’m enjoying being inside him. Wouldn’t be the first time, if you get my drift.” 

While Eddie tried to figure that out—was this someone who knew Steve? Had... been with Steve? Somebody Vecna had killed? Was Not-Steve a woman or a man? That comment made it seem more likely it was a man. He was also getting major douchebag vibes. “Dude, that is incredibly disrespectful.”  

Yeah, this was no powerful wizard. More like a minion of Vecna’s, just like Steve had suggested.  

Steve was having an out-of-body experience. Completely paralyzed and unlike in the convenience store where he had blacked out (that must’ve been Billy, too), Steve was conscious. He was there, in the Upside Down, with Billy, but also still in the car with Eddie. He could see Billy talking to him but also see himself with Eddie. Billy’s ability to read Steve was uncomfortably uncanny. Billy had always seen right through Steve, and now he was reading Eddie like a book and using Steve to do it.  

Billy looked the same. He was the same gorgeous asshole with perfectly tussled curly hair, smug shit-eating grin, barely buttoned red shirt, in the tightest jeans that gave Steve’s a run for his money—all topped with his signature leather jacket. 

Steve felt utterly violated and spied on, and the comment about Billy having been in him before made him feel queasy. He’d never been in him. Sure, Billy had been on him before, by elbow checking him, grinding against him just to push him down when he hadn’t planted his feet like Billy insisted he did when they were playing basketball and again when they were outside the Byers’. 

Billy had gotten something out of taunting Steve and roughing him up. When he’d finally and rightfully socked Billy in the mouth, it was like that had turned him on. Billy had liked it, and it was like he had been waiting for it. 

The version of King Steve everyone talked about was the basketball captain, the good-looking great fighter and keg king with a perfect family. Billy was desperately trying to become king and take all of his titles. Only none of them were up for grabs. The title of king still belonged to Steve. 

Steve could be dense, but with the way Billy looked at him and flirted with him by calling him pretty boy more than once, Steve had thought Billy was queer. When Billy had straddled him, fighting him, Steve could’ve sworn Billy had been hard, but Billy had thrown a few good punches to make Steve loopy.     Steve didn’t want to think about if the kids hadn’t been there or if Max hadn’t stabbed Billy in the neck with the tranquillizer. If they had been alone, Billy could have gotten a couple more hits in and knocked Steve out. 

Maybe Billy was talking about a sick fantasy he had been planning when he said it wasn’t the first time he’d been inside Steve. 

“Maybe we should eat him,” Not-Steve mused, not talking to Eddie anymore but to the car at large. Or so it seemed until he added, “What do you think, pretty boy? He’s like cafeteria food. Not hot or appetizing, but he is cheap and available.” 

Eddie spluttered. “I am not!”  

“I would say I'm sorry if I thought that it would change your mind, but I know that this time I have said too much, been too unkind…”  

Steve’s guilty pleasure song, Boys Don’t Cry, came over the car’s radio. 

Steve didn’t want to eat Eddie. He couldn’t even bring himself to eat Thumper or Bambi. “Fuck no, I’m not going to eat him. He’s more Bambi than Bambi—the most doe-eyed guy I’ve ever seen,” Steve said, and suddenly he could speak and was very much back in his body and out of the Upside Down. 

If Steve weren’t a vampire, he would’ve turned red because he had just told Eddie, and not Billy, that he wouldn’t eat him because he thought he was cuter than Bambi. Fuck was right. 

Eddie was still trying to recover from being compared to the slop they served in the school cafeteria when Not-Steve’s eyes drained of their demonic color. Not-Steve had left the building (body), and this time, it was very clearly Real-Steve who had spoken. 

Bambi. That was a new one. Of all the things people had called him, some even downright creative with their nastiness, nobody had ever compared him to a Disney character before. Doe-eyed. Did Steve really think his eyes were doe-y?  

While his face wasn’t burning with embarrassment, Steve dropped his gaze because he still felt it. He hated Billy, hated that he was right about their feelings. He didn’t like being used as a puppet and to accuse Eddie of anything. 

Steve could tell by Eddie’s gaze lingering a little longer on him that Eddie liked him, but Steve liked that. He liked being liked, and he’d been enamored with Eddie, too. Steve looked down at his hand as he flexed his fingers, happy not to be paralyzed anymore and in control of himself for now, skull ring glimmering on his ring finger. 

The loaded silence stretched between them as the song continued, “So I try to laugh about it, cover it all up with lies. I try to laugh about it…”  

Eddie broke the tension with a nervous laugh, twisting one of his rings around his finger. Steve looked like Steve again, which was a relief—such an immense relief, even, that Eddie had to stop himself from jumping over the console and throwing his arms around him. He fiddled with his rings more. “Fuck, well, that was a trip. You okay? The… that thing isn’t still inside you listening, is it? You got it to scram?” 

Eddie’s voice got Steve to look up. “I’m okay, but I… I don’t know.” Steve felt alright—a little dehydrated, but that was it, and surprisingly, he didn’t feel like Billy had been in him in any way. “That thing was Billy Hargrove. Max’s brother, if you remember him from school. He’s such a motherfucker.” No pun intended since he probably slept with at least half of the housewives in Hawkins. “I thought he was dead. I hope he’s not listening or going to do that again, but knowing him, he likes to fuck with me. Think that was him back at the store, so that’s the second time he’s used me.” 

Billy Hargrove. That name rang a bell. Eddie’s gaze darkened briefly. He felt a surge of protectiveness for Steve. “I remember Hargrove.”  

Two years ago, when he transferred to Hawkins High, Billy Hargrove had been the name on everyone’s lips. The Californian Adonis who’d rocked up in a blue Camaro, guns blazing. Eddie had met him. Had a begrudging appreciation for the style and theatrics and had been unwillingly entranced by the pretty face, but that was where any admiration ended. The guy couldn’t have been more of a sexist pig if he tried, and he’d banded together with Tommy Hagan, which explained more than enough about his character.  

Knowing that was who was possessing Steve was just the worst fucking thing. Yuck. Just. Yuck. 

Steve swallowed. He’d pushed a lot down that Billy had brought right back up for him. At the time, he had been trying to make it work with Nancy, and had been fucking up in school, and there came Billy, the good-looking bully, who’d tried to take over his whole persona. Steve had been frustrated for more than a couple of reasons. 

“I’m sorry he talked to you like that, I wouldn’t… he didn’t, you know… he was lying.” It wasn’t like Steve cared much about his reputation, but he wouldn’t let that go. No matter how he swung, he didn’t swing that way for Billy. 

Eddie’s eyes widened. His insides squirmed, screaming at the fact that his thing for Steve was now hanging awkwardly between them, and Steve was fully aware of it. Great. That was just fucking great. At least Steve didn’t seem too disgusted. It didn’t seem like he was about to throw Eddie a knuckle sandwich. But maybe he was still in shock from being fucking possessed two minutes ago.  

“No, yeah, no, I didn’t think so,” he reassured Steve quickly. “Demons are notorious liars, man.”  

And that was what Billy now was: a demon who had possessed Steve like Regan in The Exorcist, thankfully without the head spinning and projectile pea soup.  

Of course that asshole had been lying. Eddie was glad Billy had never been with Steve that way, but if Steve had occasionally swung in his direction, that would have been… ideal was a creepy word to use, but it would have been nice, maybe. Steve wasn’t interested in him—that was clear as day—but to know another dude who was also interested in other dudes would have been refreshing. There were only two people Eddie was aware of who leaned the same way as he did, and they were— 

Steve’s back went ramrod straight, catching Eddie’s attention. His body language mirrored Steve as he followed Steve’s stare and caught sight of the bushes in front of the car’s head beams rustling ominously. Eddie was almost relieved for the next bout of fuckery about to be laid upon them, if only to escape this conversation.  

That was until three letterman jackets appeared, one belonging to Hawkins’ very own basketball star and Chrissy’s loving, devoted boyfriend, Jason Carver. It sure was impressive, the way he’d carried on with his Mr. Faithful schtick after he’d let Eddie jerk him off. So devoted. 

Eddie’s messed up heart decided to start booming over twisted feelings instead of the actual alarming problem at hand, which was that one of the jocks was holding a baseball bat, and they all had bloody murder in their eyes.  

“Shit,” Eddie muttered. He tried to restart the car but fumbled the keys. They dropped from the ignition and hit the floor with a jingle. “Christ, damn it!” 

Eddie folded himself sideways to disappear from view, inadvertently placing his head in Steve’s lap. The lights hopefully blinded the jocks enough that they hadn’t seen him. 

Here, Steve had been worried that his dick wouldn’t work as a vampire, but the second he felt Eddie’s nose graze his cock through the fabric of his jeans, it started to stir. Thankfully, it was very much alive, but Steve didn’t want to find out like this by accident. Eddie’s head was in a place he wanted it to be, but before his mind could go there and make him cream his jeans, Jason fucking Carver appeared. 

Carver and his gang were already charging toward them as Eddie scrounged on the floor for the stupid keys. 

“Harrington!” Jason called, obviously having recognized the beemer the closer he got. He stopped by Steve’s window, which was still open from earlier. Eddie froze. “Hey, have you seen that little freak, Eddie Munson? We’re looking for him. He killed Chrissy.”  

Steve’s eyes narrowed. Jason was talking to him like they were good friends. That always annoyed him because they were never friends. Jason was a little too perfect, always in his letterman jacket, like there wasn’t anything beyond basketball and Chrissy. 

Eddie held his breath, staring at the close-up fibers of Steve’s jeans. He still had the flimsy disguise on, but the sunglasses were slipping down his nose, and he knew from the soft intake of breath up above that Jason had realized he was there.  

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interru…”  

Eddie’s sunglasses fell to the floor. 

There was a long, horrifying pause. “… Munson,” Jason spat. 

Suddenly, Eddie was being yanked up by his ponytail and dragged out of the open window. Jason must have been eating his Wheaties because that fucking hurt. Eddie yowled like an alley cat, twisting wildly to free himself, but Jason still had his hair in a tight grip and the collar of Eddie’s jacket in the other. He felt Steve’s vice grip lock around his legs, keeping him from being yanked out completely. Jason’s bare arm was right beside his face, sleeve shoved up from the scuffle. Eddie growled and did the only thing he could think of, taking a page out of Steve’s new book by opening his mouth and biting Jason’s arm hard until he tasted metal. 

Steve heard teeth breaking flesh and then immediately smelled blood. Fresh fucking blood. His fangs emerged. He had to have it. 

Crack! Eddie let go as a burning pain lanced through his cheek. Carver had just bitch slapped him. Blood dripped into Eddie’s teeth as he was pulled back into the car. 

He was a little dazed, but when he locked eyes with Steve, he must have started fucking hallucinating. Steve looked monstrous again, eyes red and black veins practically popping from his skin. He had a rabid hunger and anger on his face, staring fixedly at Eddie’s lips.  “Gonna make him pay,” Steve promised. 

Eddie’s eyes dropped to Steve’s lips as they released their vengeful threat. Steve rubbed Eddie’s cheek with his thumb, then leaned in and kissed the blood right off Eddie’s lips. It didn’t last more than a second. Steve’s cold lips hitting his, his growing fangs poking Eddie and making him let out a small whimper. Then it was over, and Steve was licking Jason’s blood off like he’d just enjoyed a delectable treat.  

Steve immediately wanted more: blood, kisses and sweet revenge.

He let go and threw open the car door, hitting Jason with it. He got out and shut the door behind him to keep Eddie safe. With Jason on the ground, his lackeys came out of the woods, but it was too late. 

Steve had just kissed him. Eddie sat there, dumbfounded and still processing that, as Steve bolted out of the car and attacked Jason. Once again, his speed was immeasurable. Eddie’s heart pounded as he stared out the now-closed window. Steve was straddling Jason, hunched over his body, the same mouth he had just kissed Eddie with attached to Jason’s wrist and drinking his blood. 

Unlike Larry’s, Steve didn’t mind Jason’s blood. It was sweet and tangy, kinda like the orange sauce on orange chicken. Steve watched the light in Jason’s eyes fade as he drained him. It excited him that the evil bully was circling the drain. It was satisfying for a reason that Steve couldn’t put his finger on. He felt no remorse, surprisingly, since he was sound mind and body for this kill.

Drinking Jason’s blood was something he wanted to do, had to do, to protect Eddie and satisfy his vampiric needs. He didn’t regret it all. He was proud and full of sweet ‘n sour vampire fuel. There was little to no mess this time. Steve let Jason’s limp arm fall and punched him in the face for good measure. 

Steve was back in the car before Eddie could decide, once again, what the fuck he was supposed to do about the situation. The other jocks were white as sheets. They looked at what had happened to their leader, looked at each other, and then booked it, running in the opposite direction. Not very loyal lackeys, Eddie thought faintly. 

“Got him back for you.” Steve grinned at him, pleased as punch. 

And it was almost endearing. His fangs were stained like he’d just been eating a cherry popsicle. Eddie felt the absurd instinct to pat him on the head and call him a good vamp.  

“You… did,” answered Eddie slowly, fighting the weirdest combination of emotions known to man: terror mixed with dread mixed with affection mixed with heart-fluttering flattery.  

Eddie still seemed to be in shock, so Steve started the car for him. “In case Jason pulls a Larry, let’s fucking go!”

Eddie shook himself. “Steve, you’re not thinking straight. You’re really not thinking straight, buddy.” You kissed me! You killed Jason Carver! Killing Jason was actually the more likely thing to happen compared to Steve kissing him. It was just the blood on Eddie’s lips that he had been after. He’s a fucking vampire, Eddie reminded himself. And then, for the fifteenth time that day, he screamed at his mind to focus on the real problem. “You know what? Let’s go to the cemetery. There’s nobody with blood there to be in danger of those chompers.”  

Except for Eddie, but now that Steve was full of… Jason, he probably didn’t need any more blood—at least for a while. 

As they backed out of Lover’s Lake, Jason rose to his knees, mouth opening wide. The headlights caught his new fangs and black hole eyes. Eddie stepped on the gas and turned the wheel, tires squealing as they got out of there. 

“Maybe there isn’t anything straight about me anymore,” Steve said quietly. Steve’s skin warmed up full of tasty blood, and his darker veins dissipated slightly. His eyes went back to their normal honey-tan color. Steve had gone from a normal guy to a bloodsucking killer. “Technically, I’m not even human anymore.” 

It was laughable and a lot, not just for him but for Eddie. He wasn’t sure why Eddie hadn’t run away from him when he’d turned in the convenience store. Now, he suggested they go to the graveyard. If he weren’t a vampire, that would’ve given him the creeps. 

Eddie blinked hard but didn’t suddenly wake up in his bed, so he wasn’t dreaming. Had Steve just told him he wasn’t straight? There was no way. This had to be Hargrove’s influence. He was fucking with Steve, had control of his body and now his thoughts and feelings too. “Tell me that again after we’ve reversed this curse, and maybe I’ll believe you.” 

Steve wasn’t sure what Eddie was referencing. He revealed something that Eddie didn’t believe, but he wasn’t lying about anything. That left him feeling miffed. 

Eddie cleared his throat and continued, “I don’t think the police will check the boneyard. They’re gonna be after you now, too.” Especially as soon as Carver’s buddies squealed about what had just happened. “We need to get your Ghostbuster gang together to figure out how to fix you, stat.” 

Eddie wasn’t too worried about Steve biting his friends. So far, it only seemed to be the people who angered Steve that got fang-banged by him. (People who insulted Eddie and tried to hurt Eddie, but Steve probably would have fang-banged anybody to defend them, not just Eddie.) The trick was to keep Steve away from people who triggered his knightly instincts.

Steve couldn’t tell if Eddie was happy with him or not. Maybe Eddie feared him. He had just killed Jason, kind of. Temporarily stopped him from killing Eddie was a more accurate description. Also, drinking blood had finally satisfied Steve’s thirst. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he had become for blood and Eddie. Kissing him had felt like the most natural thing. And Eddie had done something that excited Steve. Biting Jason and drawing his blood had been really fucking hot. 

Steve wasn’t trying to hide that he liked Eddie back.  He thought he’d made it clear by kissing and protecting him. 

“Do you think we can find an empty coffin for me to hang out in when it becomes daylight?” Steve asked with a smirk, reaching down to grab his sunglasses from the floor. He put them on. “It’s a myth about the sunlight, right? The sun is gonna come up soon, so maybe you won’t have to worry about me eating you. Or do you think these shades will protect me?” 

Eddie glanced at the sky. It was turning a golden orange. The sun was minutes away from coming up. He knew Steve was joking but answered thoughtfully, “An aversion to garlic was supposed to be a myth, too, so I think we should be careful. Try to avoid it.” There wouldn’t be any empty coffins, but if things got bad, Eddie guessed they’d have to stick Steve in the trunk or something. He added, “Call me crazy, but I’m not worried about you hurting me. I trust you.”

That was the God’s honest truth, and Eddie was probably a lunatic for it, but he felt safe with Steve. It was the whacked-out supernatural forces he didn’t trust, not Harrington. What was happening to Steve wasn’t Steve’s fault.

Eddie’s answer was logical. Steve hadn’t been too worried. He was worried enough to bring it up, but at the reminder of what the garlic had done, he took the sun coming up more seriously. He hadn’t felt pain since the garlic jerky burnt his fingertips. He couldn’t imagine what the sun would do until they saw it themselves. 

Steve looked at Eddie. He noticed that Eddie’s hair tie was barely hanging on, so he reached out and took the elastic off.  “How’s your head?” Steve asked, having forgotten how violent Jason had gotten with him. His cheek was still really red. Steve gently ran his fingers through Eddie’s hair to detangle it. It felt really soft, probably thanks to his shampoo. He sunk his fingers into the top to rub Eddie’s scalp, knowing it was probably sore and tender. “I liked it when your head was in my lap. We could’ve put on a show if he hadn’t noticed it was you.” 

Focusing on the road was getting a little tricky, what with the lack of sleep, but Eddie didn’t lose focus entirely until he felt Steve’s fingers in his hair. His claws had retracted so Eddie could feel Steve’s soft fingertips grazing his scalp. He hadn’t been paying attention to the pain in his scalp, too caught up in adrenaline, but his hair follicles were screaming now with the attention brought to them, so the soothing touch made him make an embarrassing sound. It could’ve been something close to a moan, but then Steve had to get Billyfied again, and Eddie’s brain imploded.

The car veered dangerously off the road and onto the shoulder for a few seconds before he pulled it back on track.

Steve growled and bit back the urge to pull Eddie’s hair for that stunt. “Dude! Be careful with my car, would ya!” He let go so they could get to the cemetery without crashing. 

“I was being careful until you molested my head!” Eddie snapped, losing his cool and white-knuckling the steering wheel. “Quit distracting me! And quit… flirting! ”

“That wasn’t what I was doing.” Molesting Eddie’s head. Wow. Steve was just trying to make Eddie feel better. He was taken aback at being told to stop flirting, too. Jesus Christ. He wasn’t the one that almost took them off the road. 

Now, both of Eddie’s cheeks were scarlet, not just the one Carver had slapped. Eddie was used to being the flirty one, the inappropriate one, the I will make you uncomfortable before you make me uncomfortable one. He didn’t know what to do with this openly flirtatious, straight but not acting straight jock.

And then there was the whole consent issue because Steve was under the influence. It was rapey of Eddie to like that comment, to like that kiss, to like Steve at all. It was fucking with both his head and his heart, dear lord. So no, neither of them were doing very well right now, thank you.

Eddie took the next turn aggressively, going over the curb. 

If looks could kill, Steve’s narrowed eyes would’ve gotten the job done. A dirty look would do since telling Eddie to be careful hadn’t gone over well. 

The sun had started to rise, and with their new direction, the glare was very close to hitting their windshield. Just when Eddie thought things couldn’t get worse, he saw smoke up ahead. “Is that a fire?”

He leaned forward, and yeah, those were flames, but the closer they got, the more human-shaped those flames became until it became very clear that somebody was walking along the side of the road, on fire. 

Eddie hit the brakes hard, making them both jerk forward. He hesitated instead of getting out of the car to help because this person wasn’t screaming or acting panicked like a normal person on fire would. They were calmly, sluggishly walking as their flesh melted off. Eddie rolled down his window.

“ GRRRUUUUUUHHHHH….” 

Eddie rolled the window back up, cutting off the crackling groan. “That is barbecued vampire bacon right there.”

The sunlight was slowly creeping into the car. It reached Steve’s collarbone. “Shit, Steve!” Without thinking much beyond preventing Steve from being flambeed, Eddie reached out and yanked Steve sideways out of the line of fire. Steve’s face hit his lap.

What they saw out Eddie’s open window was horrifying. A zombified vampire was on fire. Was Steve going to spontaneously burst into flames and go up into dust, too? Not on Eddie’s watch, apparently. Steve wasn’t sure what the fuck Eddie was doing to him or why his head suddenly needed to be buried in his lap. This was comical. 

“Who’s molesting who now?” Steve snarked as he got comfy. Maybe if he just went to sleep here in Eddie’s lap, the sun wouldn’t make him go up in flames. 

Eventually, he felt the sun on his legs, and he didn’t feel like he was burning. So, was he going to be okay? “Do you think me going down on you is the antidote or something?” Steve smirked and started to undo Eddie’s belt. Something about being a well-fed vampire was making Steve horny. Surely, Eddie wasn’t going to let him get his pants open, but Steve was going to try. He thought it was a grand invitation.

Eddie spluttered. “Do I—Jesus Christ, no .” If Eddie’s dick had magical vampiric healing properties, that would be too good to be true. There was the sound of metal clinking and—

“ Steven. Bad vampire!” Eddie smacked Steve’s hand away from his pants. The little fanger had actually gotten Eddie’s belt open and was starting on his zipper. Eddie didn’t know if Steve was short for Steven, but it felt right. “When I said you could eat me earlier, I meant the blood in my neck, not there. ”

Well, also there, but Steve wasn’t supposed to actually take him up on it. Billyfied Steve was really testing Eddie’s sanity. Eddie gripped the wheel so he didn’t do something stupid like bury his hands in Steve’s beautifully luscious-looking hair and say, “Let’s try and find out, shall we?” 

How was he supposed to survive? Hell, he’d take facing Vecna over this sort of personal torture.

Steven, ugh, that sounded like his mom was getting after him. Steve had to laugh when it was followed up with a bad vampire and a smack to his hand. Steve stopped and moved said hand out of the way, letting Eddie do his pants back up. 

Eddie didn’t trust himself yet to step on the gas pedal again, too busy willing himself not to get the world’s most inappropriate boner by thinking of sad and gross things like dead kittens and that time he accidentally walked in on Wayne in the tub.

That worked, thank God.

Eddie defended himself. “I’m not a creep like that, man.” Steve had to know he wasn’t about to take advantage of him in his current state. He didn’t know what sort of impression Steve had of him by now, but he would never sink to that level of grody human trash. “I was just trying to keep you from being turned into a fucking fanglet mignon. The sun almost grilled you through the window just now.”

There was sunlight on Steve’s legs, but his jeans must have protected his skin because nothing was happening. “There are some big shade trees at the cemetery we can sit under. Just stay down until we make it, okay? Or hide in the fucking back seat."

That was a way safer option for all parties. Eddie continued to scold him, totally killing Steve’s blood buzz. He hadn’t had anyone stop him or complain when he took their pants off before. He seriously considered biting Eddie’s thigh through his jeans just to shut him up. Steve shifted off Eddie’s lap but stayed low like he suggested.  “When I need blood again, I’m taking you up on your initial offer. I just thought we could’ve had a little fun after the day we’ve had. Since you’re not like that or into having my mouth on you, I’m gonna keep it off you.” Steve’s good mood was quickly dissipating. He climbed into the backseat, deciding that some space between them would be good. He sighed and stared up at the ceiling as Eddie started the car. 

Eddie’s stomach gave a little jolt, his eyebrows crinkling in instant regret. He bit his lip. Oh, how fucking wrong Steve was. But Steve was also overridden by lusty Billy-infused vampire hormones right now. He didn’t know what he was saying. He would get over it pretty quickly once he was regular Steve again. He would probably be disgusted by everything he’d said and done toward Eddie. There was no way these were his true feelings.

And besides, maybe Eddie wanted to be more than just a little fun. He’d been the experimental fun for Carver, and look how well that had turned out. Maybe he wanted to be… You know what? It didn’t matter because this wasn’t happening. Steve would thank him later for preventing it.

It was a bit awkward since it was on the floor near him, but Eddie reached back and grabbed a pack of strawberry Big League Chew from the basket, keeping his gaze far away from Steve’s after he noticed an honest-to-God, actual pout gracing the guy’s lips like he’d been denied his favorite toy. (And that was so cute it was fucking unfair.)

Eddie tore the pack open, shoving the entire contents into his mouth so it would be occupied and wouldn’t run off on all the ways Steve was wrong about him not being like that or not into having his mouth. Eddie scrunched the bubblegum wrapper in his fist and chewed his frustration out until they got to the cemetery.

[hey-august]

Writing in to say that I truly adore your “Buggy reacts to you getting piercings” headcanons as someone who has a ton of them themselves. It just made me feel giddy and good about myself because of course the genius jesters would be all “Yes! Look at my flashy,priceless,shining TREASURE! They sparkle like the ocean and they shine like the sun and are tough as nails and it anyone says different they are gonna make like me and get chop chopped!!”

Also makes me think of him discussing piercings with reader insert and thinking about them saying sometimes piercings make a person more confident about parts they don’t like about themself. Cue him sneakily bending one of his partners old piercings to see if clipping it onto his nose would make him feel better and maybe he should get the real thing…. Ah. Of course not. He looks even more ridiculous. This works only on people who are already stunning like you are and not for sideshow attractions like hiiiiiiiiiiiii-h-hiiiiii! He wasn’t doing anything! Especially not trying to make himself feel better about himself! He just put this on as a joke! A gag! Classic Buggy! Only to then be surprised by his partner not making fun of him but actively complimenting him. He looks good with a little ring like that! Fierce! Pretty! Rough! Maybe he’d like to try how a little stud would look there? They are quite sure they still have a little makeup glue and a blue gem somewhere that matches his hair perfectly… and while Buggy watches them dig tough their drawer he’s just…. So full of affection right then and there. In the end decides a nose piercing wouldn’t make him feel better the fact that his partner is just so accepting of the thing he’s so insecure about while also being so willing to help him find something to make him feel better about it if he wants to just warms his shriveled little heart.

This has gotten long but as you can see your writing inspires by brain by going “Okay but what if then this:” as well. It’s so fun

Oh anon, thank you SO MUCH for this! I was having a low day and this honestly made me feel so much better!! ♡

I’m so glad that post found the right audience and that it made you feel like the special, sparkly, amazing treasure you are!! ✨

I also like to imagine that if the reader has multiple piercings that they like to show off and/or stretched piercings, Buggy would suggest that they become an attraction - a human curiosity exhibit. Jokingly at first, but he would absolutely make it happen if the reader was interested. See how they shine! Look at how much metal! He’d also get you custom jewelry to match the vibe of your exhibit. Have angel fangs or spider bites? He can get you jewelry that actually looks like fangs. Industrial or upper helix? Maybe jewelry that mimics pointed ears. Also, some fabulous diamond studded chains to dangle between different piercings.

Ugh and YES to him wanting to try out a nose piercing. I was imagining a simple septum, but I’m in love with your idea of a blue stud gemstone! He really would look so beautiful!! 😭 Dashing, badass, gorgeous. He would love it more than anything pricier or flashier, because it was his partner’s idea. If he did go through with the piercing or wore the faux stud out (just for a little bit since his partner did go through the effort to put it on him), and anyone said something even moderately negative about his nose, Buggy would take it as the greatest insult to himself and his beloved partner and wreak absolute havoc.

Thank you thank you again for this! I loved hearing how it made you feel and where the inspiration took you!!

[bluewormonastring]

My live reactions to season 2 (episode 1)

SPOILERS OBVIOUSLY KIDS READ AT UR OWN RISK

Holy shit I’m so excited

Oh my god

Oh my god

Oauxbwkxjwhz

LOVE THE BLACK SCREEN W A SHARP CUT TO THE BEACH 10/10

OMG WE GET THE STEDE AND IZZY BEACH SWORD NOW? SO SOON? YOU SPOIL ME OFMD

Omg he’s been stabbed this is for sure a dream sequence

STEDE THATS MURDER EVEN IF ITS JUST IN YOUR HEAD

“You absolute twa….” BEST DYING WORDS EVER ILY IZZY ALWAYS AND FOREVER

THE SLOW RUN TOWARDS EACH OTHER OMG

AND STEDES FACE AND HIS VOICE AND AWW BABY

AWWW THE WAY THEY CRASHED INTO EACH OTHER

“BABE” HA FOWIHXBWNA I WAS NOT PREPARED

“I KNEW YOUD FIND ME LOVE”

“Fuckin love the beard mate”

Oh we’ve started farting lovely

OH MY GOD I WASNT PREPARED FOR HOW ID FEEL WHEN IT CUT TO HIM WITH EVERYONE AWW MY BABIES IVE MISSED YOU SO MUCH

“Cant be worse than you moaning ‘Ed oh ed’ all night” ILY PETE

Iconic title screen as always

“DEAR ED” AHHHH

SPANISH JACKIE ILY

Instantly taking an interest in the Swede as we knew would happen but still iconic

Ugh I love Leslie jones did I mention I love Leslie jones

Nat looks so scared aww baby

I love wee John being security

And host stede aww baby

I live for black Pete dealing with working in customer service

And all of them tbh

Aww poor buttons he needs his ocean and Livy

I’m ngl for a second I was like “where’s Fred armisen- oh wait”

ITS THE I THINK OF YOU OFTEN LINE YESS

HELLO YES I ADORE IZZY HANDS HE CAN DO NO WRONG IDC WHAT YOU SAY IVE MISSED MY BABY BOY

Ahh the wedding

“Demon? *shakes head* I’m the fucking devil” AHH

Guys were only 6 minutes in and this post is already long as shit so buckle up (if ur actually reading it lmao my ass would be like nope too long”

THERES MY VICO HELLO VICO ILY AND MY JOEL FRY ILY BABIES

Ah yes ye olde put trauma in a box in lock it

Awww fang baby boy someone give him a hug find him Lucius

Omg it’s the “you dumped him” scene

“Did everyone get some cake” because he’s still our precious little angle

HE JUST SNORTED RHINO HORN IS THAT A THING WAS THAT A THING IN HISTORY HUH

NO ITS THIS SCENE I DONT WANNA WATCH MY BABY BE SAD

Yes hello I love Izzy hands I would protect him with my life little baby boy

Vico looks so done w his ass

Someone give my baby a hug

Ily fang

The tears in his eyes during “unhand me” aww Angel

AWW IZZY

CONNOTHAN O NONNATHAN WE LOVE YOU YOU PRECIOUS LITTLE BOY UR ABSOLUTE PERFECTION YOU ANGEL

I love the friendship Jim and that girl have

Oh shit Jackie

“BOO CAKES” JACKIE

Stede honey you’re not intimidating

“I know that guy we had breakfast together” “you’ll be having a lot of breakfastes together” “oh okay 🙂” ily Swede

HIM DOING AN ED IMPRESSION LMAO “could be. Could be mate.”

“You’re my hero” 😞😕🙂😏

Swede bein a cute lil double agent

AWW SWEDE “my time with Jackie has been the happiest of my life. Her love has helped me locate parts of myself I didn’t even know existed and reclaim others that I have long missed” ILY

“Tonight is my turn to perform the husbandly duties”

“That’s another toe” ED YOU STAY AWAY FROM HIM LEAVE MY BABY ALONE

“Who am I to you” aww Izzy Angel baby he’s accepting it OMG “I have love for you Edward” IZZY YOURE SAYING IT OUT LOUD IM SO PROUD OF YOU BUD

IZZY YOU DID NOT JUST SAY TALK IT THROUGH YOU HAD TO HAVE KNOWN THAT WAS A HORRIBLE IDEA

OMG AND THE SHIFT IN THE MUSIC AS SOON AS HE SAID IT

IZZY RUN

RUN MY BABY BOY RUN

“As a crew” OH EDDDDD

ED DONT POINT A GUN AT JIM

OR ANYONE ELSE

THAT INCLUDES YOURSELF EDWARD TEACH BORN ON A BEACH

“They think ya crazy” cackling his face omg

Go taika absolutely slaying this scene

The way the camera is all like jittery is so good

Jim’s like “beard” makes their chin look like… not caved in but idk like it looks like they have a rly bad overbite yk

“Everyone knows why” “I don’t. Enlighten me” “your feelings for stede fucking bon-“ *GUNSHOT* ARE U SHITTING ME EDWARD NO WE DO BOT SHOOT FRIENDS

OH MY GOD HE MADE FRENCHIE FIRST MATE HOLY SHIT

Oh my god Izzy my poor baby Izzy oh my god how dare you hurt my Izzy

LMAO SWEDE

“FUCK THOSE HAMMIES UP” LMAO

There’s like no way there’s actually anything valuable in that chest

WE GOT TO SEE HER TAKE A NOSE FOR THE NOSE JAR YESSS

OH SHIT INDIGO

“Now give me back my blue shit STEVE”

Susan’s hot

DONT HURT SWEDE

Oh good okay we’re cool

I feel like she’s lying tho

But for now we’re cool

AWW FANG

AWW JIM COMFORTING FANG

“WANNA HEAR THE STORY OF THE WOODEN BOY” AWW

Living for vico using they them for the puppet

“DO THE VOICE” AWW

OMG VICO THATS ICONIC

AWW YAY THEYRE LAUGHING NOW THOSE ARE MY BABIES YAY

Living for buttons reuniting with the ocean

Okay roll credits cheers yall see you next episode

[steeltraptrainer]

There is light in the windows. The family is in. Ferro hesitates in knocking. Long enough that they get noticed regardless. The sound of a good few chains being unlatched, before the door opens.

"What are you lingering for?" A pause. "Wait... You two... Still alive, then." Gascoigne leans in the doorway, eyes still bandaged, and teeth still fanged. "Good. Come in. Don't linger on the doorstep, that is bad luck."

"Love? Who is at the door?"

"Our two helpers." The scuff of shoes on the floor as they sheepishly enter. "Leave your weaponry at the door, we have a rack for visiting hunters."

"Will do. Is... uh. That Henryk guy alright?"

"Yes. A bit worse for wear, but alive." Gascoigne chuffs, and shakes his head a bit. "That foolhardy idiot could have been the Crow's latest mark, and you saved him. Thank you."

"No need. We don't like the idea of killing people. It makes our skin crawl." Giacomo grimaces.

"Not so strange, for novice hunters." A raspy voice they had never heard before calls out. "Why are you here?" Henryk. Lichtenberg scars all over, and tired eyes. But alive indeed.

"Wanted to check up on you and Gascoigne," Ferro mutters. "We just... Just got through Old Yharnam. Were at the old Workshop Gehrman established.

"That place is still standing?" Henryk raises an eyebrow. "Damn miracle. You two are busybodies." A look up and down Ferro. "Where'd you get that attire?"

"Dream Messengers." Ferro gestures. "We're both Moon-Scented."

"Two of you? At once?" A wince from the old man. "May you two keep going."

"Planning on it."

---

They talk for so long. Just... relax a bit. A needed breather. When they leave, it's with Viola's laughter at Ferro's clothes in the back of their minds. It was nice. Almost made them forget about the horrors outside the door.

"Shall we?"

"Witches?"

"Witches."

---

"EYES ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE THERE!" Ferro screeches, lunging out of the way. Dear fucking god. "THIS IS THE MOST FUCKED UP TAILORING EVER!"

"FERRO! SPARKS!" The small explosion of electricity does almost nothing to the witches, but it does clear the arena of Mad Ones. Small wins, at least. Ferro twirls the weapon in his grip around, before stepping forward, rushing the witch. On the side, Giacomo does the same. The witches fall.

"Ugh. Never again." Ferro shudders. "Let's get that rune tool, and then return to the dream. You had an idea for getting me a new weapon that isn't this cane."

"Ayup. If the Chalice Dungeons are even remotely the same, we can get you a Burial Blade. Scythe and sword in one."

"Sign me right the fuck up. I want crowd control."

---

The Doll barely sees the two hunters. They greet her (as is their custom), before they entrench themselves in the Pthumerian labyrinth. She is curious why. They clearly have a plan. And so she sits and waits. They will likely come back with a not small amount of Blood Echoes. Good. They will need strength in the fights yet to come.

When they tumble back into being, The Doll can just about see their wounds fade away. However, they have huge grins on their faces, laughing. There is a weapon in a harness on Ferro's back that she has only ever seen Gehrman hold. Curious. She wonders how he would react to it.

"Do you need my help, Good Hunters?"

"Oh, yeah! Ferro's got a new weapon, and needs some help to match it."

"Very well. Give me your hands, please. Now shut your eyes..." Oh, they had so many blood echoes. More than enough to make Ferro a more than adequate wielder of this weapon. She would love to see him dance with it one day.

---

"You got a weapon in mind that you want, Momo?" Ferro asks, eying his new weapon. It's comically large within his hands, but he knows how to hold it safely and surely. And he saw Gehrman up in the workshop sputter and choke like he had seen a ghost.

"Yeah. Won't be able to get it until after we take care of the Vicar though. It's the Whirligig Saw."

"Sounds cool. Show it to me when we're back home?"

"Yeah, sure." Something to happen sooner rather than later. After all,

T h e y

W a k e

U p

[meowizard]

ugh. how i would make monster high customs of my cake ocs:

tropical soda: base clawd, with clawdia's slimmer (but still 'big sister', which is to say, tall) legs bc high heel sandals would be fun to make. clawdia's face is probably the best fit too, as long as her nose could be sanded down. i'd feel too mean sanding down her goregeous goregeous fangs, so if i'm keeping her ears i'm keeping those. sa is, technically, at nd roots, a dog, and glueing on ear fluff is absolutely essential and so fun. i would probably have to use yarn hair to get the volume- i'd need two different shades of orange and an accent light blue. their hat and shorts are canvas - i could probably repurpose a tote bag for that. i love painting canvas its such a good texture. uhhh bikini has to be authentically stretchy or i'd never forgive myself - but tbf it'd be so small i don't know where i would get fabric i'd like to use. bright orange string is easy to come by as trash on beaches, though. shirt i'm tempted to crochet, but idk if i would like the amount of texture, i think it would take away from the hair.

very berry: frayed satin ribbon and crepe and beaded skirt. okay now that's out of the way: i have no clue who i'd use as a base without having to buy epoxy :( possibly a g3 drac, but her arms are too skinny so maybe i'd replace em withhhhhh abbey's upper half? that be good because drac is super short, and abbey's face mould is pretty on the nose for a round-eyed and flat-nosed hollyberrian. the problem is that neither of them are as dark as kix. maybe catty will be (as of posting she's not released her) but colour correcting #00000 skin would be soo hard. sigh. i digress. if i could use as much silk as possible on her clothes that would be cute - using selvedge edges and such for her pettiskirt. purple and pink pleather would be perfect for her dragon-scale boots. and her handwrap might have to be crepe paper too idk how i'd make it sit close to the skin like real bandages. her other glove - ugh i dont even want to think about it, probably just buy a bunch of tiny pompoms and stitch them together. or beads!

black licorice: hahahahhahha i'd use a base from a entirely different doll line. something tiny skinny and toddler-sized in comparison to the monster highs. idk which maybe from the pixie lines from eah? i'd have to shrink the head in that case bc i hate the bobble headed look its so not cute. and we want him to be kind of creepy anyway :3c. i'd use hot glue for his goopy hair - if its not opaque blue-black i'll just paint over it. some glow-in-the-dark paint details would be cool too! painted black felt for his boots to give the congealed look

crowned cream: g3 frankie's head for sure, but cat demew's body for the claws, and so i don't have to build up the white that hard. I have blonde and white kanekalon for its hair and i'd like to make a crown out of glittery hot glue and red velvet. pleather and more velvet for her details, and some kind of suede?? i would 3d print the skull since i don't trust fimo clay

pomousse: ooh. howleen base, probably. again. the body is perfect..... more or less......... i can't use a g3 doll because she doesn't have the same smile and that's very important. i dont know, actually, but there's no little sister dolls with her skin tone so we can rule out not painting her at least. i have a perfect red for her hair that i could colour but im not sure its heat resistant? (its not) so itd be a little hard to twist into bantu knots. her dress is made of muslin and her robes of red linen.... but linen doesn't look great on doll scale so lets use polyester instead. id like to use sublimation paints for the intensity, but i dread to make her pattern ssksjskjsksksksks........

[fragileizy]

mister bug gets caught looking at her and immediately ducks his head right back down into his compact, looking like he’s doing something. anything. clicking random apps, checking out the settings on his magical device, doing anything and everything possible to just... not... look...

lady noire has fangs, and he knows she does... but it's a lot more on his mind than it should have any right being.

“uhm, buggaboy? how long are you going to scroll through your notes app?” she asks him, smug and laughing. teeth, teeth, teeth.

gah…

she knows...

there really isn’t much to look at in the notes section. though mister bug has tactile feel on his gloves— something his superhero partner to the right of him sorely lacks— he just never has time to write anything. obscure, half written ideas on individual notes take up the majority of storage.

shoela ce.

noire afraid of goose

sandman hat!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

9:00 -> CLEAN IT

and more. nonsensical, absolute garbage. he really should clean this out.

his face turns as red as his suit as he snaps his yo-yo shut, wrapping it right back up around his wrist. with a sigh, he sits back and tries to entertain himself with cloud gazing, refusing to meet her grin. “sorry,” he struggles out. “i— ugh.”

“what's going on? you're never this airheaded.”

“are your fangs real?” he blurts out. then, realizing what he's said, he blurts out again: “that was stupid. sorry.”

“they're real, alright,” she teases. “and they hurt real bad, too.”

he knows. he's seen her tear into a sentimonster's belly and come out of it looking like she's mauled into an actual animal. flashing, pretty fangs. so sharp and so eager. so dangerous. would he bleed if they... kissed...?

he should've known better than to think noire would let him not answer. arms folded under her chest, she gives him a piercing glare. “you've been thinking a lot of about my teeth recently.”

she's practically purring.

“just wondering if you've got those fangs in your civilian form, too.”

that gets her.

“i wish!” she moans. “wouldn't it be cool if i could have these all the time? i'd bite all of my problems! who needs customer service when i could just nip someone's fingers!”

the sky looks very, very interesting. so much more interesting than her. so much more interesting than lady noire's dazzling smile and glowing, knowing eyes. maybe if he doesn't move, she won't see him. maybe if he lets the conversation die down, the blush on his face will wipe off. maybe the two of them can just let the fact that he's interested in her teeth just disappear.

might explode into a thousand little itty bitty pieces if i think about lady noire too hard

[blasphemous--rumours]

Real vampire yearning hours

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

With the firstborn's ring I made you mine

Lying down at night you start to wonder how to hide your ownership of the ring of light, thankfully Solomon has an idea

Wc: 800

Cw: at one point a witch teases you two about being careful about not having a child so it could be read as AFAB reader but honestly Lucifer gave 'birth' to satan so mpreg wouldn't be the strangest thing

You are lying down on your bed looking at Solomon, ready to sleep " Solomon?" you play with the thick golden band absentmindedly " if the brothers notice the ring of light how do we hide that, huh?"

Solomon takes off his coat as he hums "well, obviously deny it"

" Of course smartass, but that would only work with the brothers and maybe diabolo, I doubt the very owner can't tell his ring apart from other similars"

"If Lucifer was to confront you about it…" he takes off his shirt and starts brushing his hair, showing multiple contract marks along his back and neck " push all the blame to me"

" What do you even mean by that?" You look up from the jewelry magazine in your lap. You were trying to find a ring close enough to say you bought it and made some customizations

" Tell them that I gave it to you as our wedding ring" the brush stops mid stroke just above his ear. You could swear he left a juvenile breathy laugh, like a preteen who just confessed to their crush

" Won't you be in an awkward situation then?"

" I'm always in hot water here" he laughs loudly as he walks to the bed and lies down next to you looking over your shoulder to the magazine you were reading, he remembers these styles being in fashion so long ago, he even remember that by the time he befriended Asmodeus he had gushed about them about 10 times. Chunky thick rings, some engraved with various animals, others plain and bejeweled "either way they need to trust you to make pacts with you, what they think of me doesn't really matter"

You just sigh, leaning backwards against his chest, your head resting against his shoulder, " can't you just cast transformative magic and make it look like a brand new ring?" You lift your left hand to emphasize how eye catching the ring is

He seems deep in thought but ends up laughing softly " I guess I could but I don't wanna!" His bright smile almost lighting up the room

" Ugh! Why are you so mean!"

" I don't do it to be mean~" he hugs you closer to his chest as he rubs his head against your neck like a cat marking its owner " if anything you could say I'm possessive~"

"Oh?" You pat his head, making him lean against the soft contact " and why is that?"

" Even if in this timeline the brothers don't have feelings for you… I guess saying that the ring displaying our 'marriage' being the firstborn's ring is like a big Fuck you toward them" his nimble fingers toy with said ring before kissing your hand " don't you think so~?"

" It truly sounded possessive"

"Because I'm possessive of my apprentice, obviously~" he exclaims as if he was offended you didn't know or doubted that. Without giving you one second to answer he playfully bites your shoulder

" Hick!" Your wings spread to push him off "Why are you biting me?! If anything the big bad demon should try and eat the human! At this time demons should still eat humans so beware great sorcerer, for you will be my dinner!" As you bear your teeth, slowly running your tongue through the far more angular shape

Suddenly it seems that Solomon remembered your fangs.

Quickly jumping away to the foot of the bed he starts sputtering excuses " H-Hey don't get too hung up on the joke! Remember I'm your human teacher, be nice!" You see a little droplet run down his nape but you doubt it is from his shower

Slowly like a predator you get closer and closer until you jump towards him, mouth wide open " Retribution!" And your face lands just in the junction between his neck and shoulder

It's not necessary to say the morning after it would come out to bite you in the ass. The red patch of skin being noticable from meters away

" Oh? Solomon what happened there?" A friendly witch ask when you two go for groceries

" It was a mosquito bite, you know how big they can get in the devildom" quickly you interrupt before he can answer

" But sweetie~" he brings his hand to cover his mouth like a bashful highschool student confessing to their crush " mosquitoes don't have such sharp teeth~" as he angles his head to the side, as if he was showing off the marks your teeth left

The witch can only laugh "Aahh~ young love, i remember being just like that with my Cornelius. Just make sure to use protection, I'm sure the academy would hate to have mini Solomons running around"

Leaving the shop you whisper yell at Solomon " what the fuck! Why did you do that?!"

His eyes darken as he smirks, almost mocking you " THIS is retribution, brat"

[sheep-from-rad]

Genshin x Reader but in the Nekopara Catboys Paradise world Note: I blame Mika Melatika’s stream for this. Those two streams with Alban, Ike, Mysta, and Sonny are now my comfort streams. My exams are finished (I have a project due on 15th ugh) and right now the only thing inside my brain is my self-reward, that is Luca Kaneshiro’s Halloween stream. Warnings: None. Masterlist: [Masterlist 1] , [Masterlist 2] 

Much like your friend Xiangling, after college you immediately took over the family business that was left to you by your parents. It was a place full of memories both good and bad and leaving it to die is like having a part of you dying as well. Knowing that you can’t manage it alone, few interesting people answered your call and now work with you! 

Kaeya, the lazy Russian blue! 

This catboy one day walked into the cafe doors to become a server and a bunch of customers followed him 

He is notorious for breaking the uniform code and unbuttoning his shirt. Well, it works well because from time to time the cafe is swarmed with girls asking for his number. 

He’s also notorious for getting in a verbal catfight with his adoptive brother, Diluc, a ginger Ragdoll cat boy. 

He disappears from time to time and if he does his work it is always the cash register. He doesn’t care about mora, it's just that the cash register duty has less work to do than cooking or serving. 

People thought he was a big flirt until an old caretaker from home, Adeline, came to the cafe and his bravado fell. Turns out, he is just a little awkward sweetheart. 

He’s the one who makes dinner most of the time and though lazy, he is the one who first gets up in the morning and helps clean the cafe before opening time. 

He’s not very touchy but he’s fond of occasional headpats. 

One time he went missing and missed basically all his work. Later on it was revealed that our lazy cat is an undercover agent who went to get himself a job in a cafe to investigate the hybrid trafficking that is happening around the area. 

“Truths out but can I still be your lowly server?” 

Scaramouche, the tsundere Japanese Bobtail!

You thought he was a bunny when he first entered the cafe but he proved that he’s not after baring his fangs for everyone to see.  

He is a menace. This catboy will claim to hate your attention but the moment you look away and focus on something else he will start his  meows that wakes up the whole neighbourhood. 

He’s not loud but he is very chatty and by chatty I mean very vocal with his meows. 

While a menace, he is surprisingly good with kids. One time a lost child wound up in the store crying and it only took a minute for them to calm the said child. 

Aside from being a verbal kitty, he is also not afraid to rip someone’s face off when he knows that they are disrupting the peace in the cafe. 

Being a smaller cat hybrid, he always fits in the small places to sleep. One time when the boys were new, he went missing and the whole crew had to find him around because they were afraid he lost his way home. Kazuha found him curled up and sleeping soundly between the couch and the cabinet. 

He’ll annoy you on purpose but at the end of the day, he warms you up by curling his body around you and sleeping

“Sit down and let me sleep before I scratch you!” 

Xiao, the mysterious Burmese cat who is also your neighbour?!

Xiao is the adopted son of your neighbour and former college professor Mr Zhongli (who is a princely Maine Coon hybrid!) 

He was adopted as a child from a run down orphanage and from then on he was raised and became your childhood friend 

Unlike the other catboys, he doesn’t live with you but he doesn’t fail to come and join you and the rest of the gang to have lunch and sometimes dinner if both his half siblings Ganyu and Hu Tao and his father are busy with their work. 

He mostly do the cooking to avoid the people but when he does the serving he ends up pulling tons of customers that makes the cafe open overtime

He does more protective than serving and being one of the smaller ones in the cafe, he can be easily picked up by either Kaeya or anyone around to stop him from killing the person 

He has a tough exterior but when he softens, he won’t hesitate to let you pet him behind the ears 

“Why did I make you food? Do I need a reason?”

Taglist: @uchihaeirin |@eccedentesiast-sapphic |@chihawari @tinandabin |@zuri-feather |@jaxielous

[fighters-megamix]

"Fighter? I don't want--" Her face went red as she realized she'd been completely misunderstood, "Nonono, I just-- er. Ugh. Ernestooo, I need another round!" She hadn't wanted to bug the man, but she really didn't want someone getting the wrong idea of her.

Within half a minute, the bartender, Ernesto, showed up with a couple more glasses of milk. He seemed a bit annoyed at the sudden demand, apparently having been enjoying a conversation with a lovely lady in her late 60s down the bar, who gave the pale, white-haired barkeep a flirty wave as he come to wait on the performer. He set the glasses down, and almost left again, but Felicia lightly grabbed his arm.

"Could you... y'know, show her the goods?" She asked. Ernesto gave her a quizzical look, and she responded with a pair of big, pleading eyes, so he rolled his eyes. He curled his lip, sneering at Riley for a moment. There, in his mouth, was a razor-sharp fang. With that, his face returned to its stoic default and he left to tend to the other customers. Felicia waved as he left, keeping up happy appearances for one more brief moment.

"I don't know what you've been through," Felicia spoke in a hushed tone, trying her best not to be overheard, "but I'm not a Darkhunter. I don't want to hurt you."

In a way, this was profoundly disappointing. A multi-level marketing scheme as pitched by a cat-themed entertainer would at least make a novel story to tell, an amusing denouement to round out the story of her trip. Her expression didn't change, which perhaps was evidence better than any stench of infernality of that selfsame XYZ. What kind of entertainer moonlit as a demon hunter? Surely there were bigger concerns in Vegas. Like drugs and corruption and inequality... what did it matter that a stray hellspawn wanted to catch a show?

"Ah. In that case, I have'ta insist we remain where witnesses abound." She'd not stood up from the stool, staring into an unwanted glass of skim milk. Barring the slightest tensing of muscles, she could be confused for a businesswoman drowning her sorrows. Right, where was the emergency exit? Stage left, should get out to the street, or at least an alleyway. Any of the bigger ones should have enough people to make pursuit difficult.

"I've got no interest in bein' anything more than Average Joe for the rest'a my visit. So let's depart as unlikely friends, alright? I'm much more of a lover than a fighter, anyway."

[krushkreates]

soldier poet king

chapter iv: kingdom dance

long time no update lol

this one’s a doozy and the longest chapter yet! i promise you, this is when things start to get going!

wc: 2707

you can read it here

As he reached the bar, the consistent crescendo of drums brought Milo out of his reverie. He found himself at the standoff he claimed to be “dramatic”. The baritone voices of several young men caused him to only hear the tail-end of the bartender’s greeting.

“What can I get ya?” When he finally tore his gaze from the silent battle between the two, surprise flashed across his face when Milo realized he was face to face with a vampire.

He clumsily set the glasses on the counter.

“Refill. On tab for Green.” He stated dumbly. Get ya shit together Milo. Ya nearly fucked up the alias we took on.

The silence that stood between them was louder than the drums. His eyes floated back over to the scene.

The owner refused to look at the bard. Their white linen bandana contrasted the dark shirt under the stage light. Though he hadn’t caught their face, Milo knew their gaze was piercing if they were able to stand up to the beautiful Angel this long. Their shirt nearly matched David’s in sheerness, and ”billowy-ness” (as Asher put it). The black shirt was abruptly stopped by black bottoms and tied together with an apron.

He felt their reluctance and quietly snorted in amusement. His mind wandered to the stand-offs between David and Asher in their childhood.

”Stop looking at me like that!” David exclaimed as he stood barefoot on the grass, leaning over a reclined Asher.

“Or what?” Ash replied, the lazy grin on his face prominent while his slender fingers unconsciously wove a half-finished dandelion crown. “You gonna ask your father if we can go to the creek after dinner?” Milo laughed as he knew David’s cheeks burned in annoyance.

“No. I just,” the Prince huffed in irritation. “Ugh!” He threw his hands up, his gaze leaving one of his best friends. “I swear, if you weren’t half-wolf, I’d say you were an elf in disguise.”

The two boys giggled as David sulked. Asher, having abandoned his flower crown, pushed himself onto his elbows.

“Hey,” he began softly, voice laced with earnesty, “You don’t have to ask. I’m only pulling your tail.” His tone was sincere. The last thing the aspiring advisor wanted to do was damage his friendship with the future king, and politics aside, Asher really hated genuinely upsetting David.

David sighed before meeting his gaze. Internally, he groaned and felt himself crumble. Damn, he really couldn’t say no to his best friends. “It’s okay Asher. I’ll ask my dad-“ His sentence was interrupted by the excited exclamations of the others. “Guys! I’m only asking so you can stop pestering me about it. But just this once, got it?”

The clanking of glasses threw him from his reverie and the bartender offered a fanged smile (though Milo might have mistaken it for a grimace).

“Take it easy on the drinks,” he motioned for the knight to lean in, his voice sprinkled with amusement, “I know the king isn’t the best at holding his liquor.” His words made Milo blanche as the vamp leaned back and called for the next customer. His hands shook as he took the glasses, the dark amber sloshing and threatening to spill. Willing himself to calm down, he forced a smile on his face, but not before looking back and being thrown a wink by the bartender. The knight let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and forced the rising tide of worry from his mind.

How had he known David was here? They were inconspicuous enough. The castle was an hour or so away, there’s no way the locals would know what he’d look like. Unless they had a recent portrait or sketches from Asher that got sent out. Hell, most folk didn’t know what Gabe looked like until he implemented the annual tour early into his short reign. Speaking of touring, once Ostara was a week away, they’d have to start the tour and the preparations for that were going to take even longer now that David was almost fully settled into his role. Once that was figured out, Milo would have to send his letters to all the Councils then-

His train of thought derailed as he hit what felt like a brick wall. Sparkling eyes met his and Milo found himself stuttering out an uncharacteristically meek apology as he took in the sight of the fabled mercenary he had heard much about. He felt his cheeks heat up as he realized the tales conveniently left out how attractive and physically present they were.

His heart beat as fast as the drums and Milo hadn’t realized he had been staring until the merc paused expectantly. Something about an apology? He waved them off as best he could with the drinks and felt embarrassment ooze through his veins. They were being kind about the whole thing. A laugh fell from their lips as he made some wisecrack comment about a wet tunic contest and being first place. He liked the sound of that laugh, and felt a hazy happiness cloud him as they hastily (and apologetically) ended the conversation when an arm looped around their’s. The stranger with red eyes apologized for interrupting, but Milo couldn’t care less as he locked eyes with the mercenary, a silent promise to see each other again being made.

A grin seemed to lock itself onto his face as he finished the journey back to the table. He was greeted by the sight of Asher and the man named V arm-wrestling while David watched in mild amusement. Distracted by his sudden appearance, Ash looked up and yelped as his attention was pulled back to the competition. His knuckles slammed on the table. V let out a victorious laugh and Ash groaned and handed him two silver pieces. He turned to face his friend.

“What took you so long? Get bitten by the bartender or-” Asher paused as he studied the dopey grin and dreamy look on Milo’s face. His eyes lit up with that glint the other two were far too familiar with. “You met someone.” He smiled, his canines flashed in the shit-eating grin on his face.

V turned to Milo and glanced him up and down, nearly mirroring Asher’s look. David took note of the slight discomfort in his knight as he looked at V’s smile. Milo had mentioned earlier that while he wasn’t inherently distrustful of V, something about his smile wasn’t quite right. His statement echoed in his head as David watched Milo shake his head and struggle to hide the smile from appearing on his face again.

”It’s like there’s something beneath the surface. It’s not quite the genuine happiness that ya get from being nice.”

“You absolutely met someone. No one puts off that amount of happiness just from mead.” V leaned back and took a long, deep drink of his abnormally large stein. Milo had never noticed the size compared to the other patrons at the table.

Asher nodded and David found himself also nodding and speaking.

“Who was it?” Now it was his turn to struggle to keep his tone neutral. The king felt the twitches of a smirk tugging at his lips, facetious enjoyment joining the strain.

Milo looked behind the three men, desperate to take the conversation off him.

“Okay look-”

His voice was cut off by the sound of someone singing. All four heads turned toward the source of the singer, surprised to see the crowd part and even more surprised to see the other bartender joining the Angel.

They had untied their rust colored apron and laid it on the counter while the first verse began. Milo and David didn’t know what language they were singing in, but Asher caught vaguely familiar words. Something about seaweed and marriage? His head felt as if he were swimming as he watched the bartender interact with an older man that he thought was Old Man Lillian.

So he hadn’t been escorted out. The three shared telepathically and held in a snicker.

Asher watched as they interacted with the young men that had been the first line of song. The three men had presented them with different objects -a turtle shell comb, a piece of black and yellow seaweed, and a gold mirror with pearls- and the Angel scrutinized with stormy eyes and gossiped about each man with their companion, the gold accents flashing in the stage light. His eyes locked on to their features and felt himself become entranced by the shining eyes framed by a look of mischief. He watched with rapt attention as they interacted with the audience, almost beckoning for a reaction. The crowd joined in the singing at the behest of the bard, and everyone except the three exploded in song. The harmonies flowed smoothly over one another, and the poet found himself in a small, drafty house, watching a mother, father and child deal with the courtship of silly young men as the song swelled to its peak and abruptly ended in a triumphant flourish.

The bartender and Angel bowed as the crowd roared with thunderous applause. Asher swore he felt the entire building shake a little. The musicians looked to the Angel, and as if on cue again, another song started immediately. The newer of the two performers groaned and rolled their eyes, but a smile lingered on their lips.

Milo turned to his friend and stifled a laugh at his expression. He met David’s gaze and the king merely rolled his eyes before taking a drink, the edges of his lips curled faintly upward.The knight made a mental note to give both of them shit after they got back to the castle.

Turning their attention back to the song that had started again, and a young woman in a linen hunter green dress with long golden ringlets was pulled from the crowd to join in the song. The lyrics flowed off their tongues, switching between the local dialect and that same foreign language again. Asher knew what this song was about, mostly, and watched as the bard and young woman scolded the other person as they fiddled with the apron that still hung around their torso. They grabbed the young woman’s hands and twirled her around as they happily sang about traveling and dancing in the lights of a far away town. The two performers replied in faux anger about staying home and doing work. Looking around, they cheekily sang about handsome men and the three men individually swore they looked at them as their eyes swept over the audience.

As the story played on, the trio pulled more and more audience members to dance, and soon the entire floor was dancing, even David. The music crescendoed to the finale and burst into an instrumental that sent the tavern’s heart pounding. Boots stomped on the floor, laughter echoed through the building, and the audience wove together in an intricate knot. Garments flashed and sparkled, the air became scented with perfumes and oils. Hands clapped and grasped as strangers became friends as the music united everyone young and old. Kids giggled as they were spun by fathers, mothers, siblings, friends, everyone. They mimicked the tune they had heard since before their birth, warbling pitches and drunken voices joining them.

David caught flashes of gold and black, and found himself wanting to see them up close. He could see them expertly criss-crossing with a variety of dance partners. The bracelets on their wrists jingled, catching his ears and pulling him in every direction. He caught glimpses of the top of their head. They truly did live up to their name as the Angel of the Crooked Canon. Mysterious, strong and beautiful.

His daydream was broken when he found himself paired with Asher for a moment. Ash’s laughter rang in his ears, his cheeks burned in mild embarrassment as his best friend poked fun at his dazed look.

“Got the hots for the Angel huh?” He grinned cheekily, spinning the king and clapping after.

David rolled his eyes as he came back. “Shut up,” he growled as he noticed Asher’s eyes wandering off in the crowd. He smirked. “Do I have the hots or do you? And don’t think I haven’t noticed that idiotic look on your face when you saw the bartender.”

Asher spluttered as a babble of words erupted. He couldn’t meet the king’s gaze and knew he would be reduced to an even more embarrassed mess, and mentally cursed himself when he realized he was searching for that white head covering and rust colored apron, hoping to end up dancing with the person he was enthralled with.

Just as he was about to reply, the two were separated and swept away in the music as it danced its way toward the end. It was a blur of people and hands and feet and the two found themselves panting and staring, two sets of eyes as the music stopped on the final staccatoed note.

As they stared at one another, their chests heaved slightly, the heat and excitement of the night swiftly caught up to them. The tavern seemed to fade away as the bards stared at their respective partners’ faces. Electricity crackled immediately but was pulled when the clinking of glass drew their attention from each other.

Sam stood on the bar, motioning for the bartender in Asher’s grip. They gave him a warm smile before letting go, and he felt his heart skip a beat.

The Angel slipped out of David’s sight and moved toward the counter. They gave them a boost up and the patrons looked at them expectantly.

“Alright everyone. Thank you Sam.” They said after taking the vamp’s hand to steady themselves onto the bartop.

The crowd silenced, their rapt attention captured by the figure on the bar top. Milo’s eye caught movement and a flash of silver hurrying into the back before turning back to the person.

“After our amazing performances tonight, I’d like to thank everyone here for coming. And Angel, for undoubtedly ruining wallets for some of you as to my performances. Don’t think I didn’t know about y’all’s little betting pool.” They smiled and laughed, a warm clear sound that rang out. Asher felt himself swoon. The crowd laughed heartily. “Now there’s some new faces in our sea of regulars,” their gaze passed over the crowd, lingering on the trio, though the poet wasn’t sure when David and Milo had found him. “So you lot better be on your best behavior to make the newcomers feel even more welcome, and welcome to come back.” The crowd nodded in agreement. Asher nudged David in the ribs while mouthing ‘I told you’. He rolled his eyes while his friend silently laughed to himself.

“It’s been a hell of a year, and I’ve found myself in charge of this damned place. A lot of y’all are regulars from my parents’ time as owners. Thank you for taking a chance on their hopeless kid, who frankly, has no idea what the fuck they’re doing.”

They laughed at this and a rough voice behind Milo shouted “Yer parents would’ve been proud to see it tonight!” Murmurs of agreement followed, and she felt themselves soften a bit.

“They would have been wouldn’t they? Mahbon was always their second favorite holiday, after Yule of course. But enough of them. Tonight is about abundance, prosperity and celebration. Without any of you having the slightest sliver of faith in me, I’m not sure this place would’ve gotten through last winter. But it did, and for that, all of your drinks are on the house!” Cheers erupted as Angel hopped up onto the bar and closed the owner into a bone-crushing hug.

“They would’ve been beside themselves with pride to see you now.” They murmured into their ear, and the owner wiped their misty eyes.

“I just wish they could’ve been here to see it.” They replied, before turning back to the crowd. “The night is still young! We have until dawn. Band, take it away!”

The music started once more.

[lovelylogans]

the warmth of your doorways (i’ll find my way back to you)

It can't be unlearned I've known the warmth of your doorways Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you Oh, please, give me mercy no more That's a kindness you can't afford I warn you, baby, each night, as sure as you're born You'll hear me howling outside your door

—”it will come back,” hozier

⁂

pairings: patton/virgil/logan word count: 5,470 rating: teen and up audiences (based on ao3 ratings, find explanations here) warnings: magic, kissing, making out, brief consensual possession, non-explicit mention of killing someone/murder, please let me know if i’ve missed any

notes: this is my secret santa gift for @phantomofthesanderssides​ on tumblr through a mutual server of ours! i must give some credit to @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors, whose portrayal of “mother” in love and other fairytales was the basis of virgil in this fic.

⁂

Patton is pretty sure one can tell from the everything about him that he is a big fan of everything cute and cuddly, which is half the reason he got a job at Amalthea’s Menagerie of Ordinary and Extraordinary Creatures.

The other half might have something to do with the fluffy-haired, no-nonsense barista at Tassology, the coffee shop just across the street.

The third half (look, Patton’s not good at math) might have something to do with the proximity of both the pet shop and the coffee shop to the old Whitesummer Coppice, having long been abandoned and grown wild with ivy climbing gnarled trees, thickets of fall asters, and honeysuckle bushes that grew dense with flowers, if the Coppice liked you and if you knew where to look.

Well. Abandoned, chased off. Half the reason Amalthea’s Menagerie was so close to the Coppice was because of all the local legends of what had really happened to the mysteriously vanished Whitesummers when they’d bought and tried to cut back the forest.

It was a place befitting the supernatural, and it also meant that customers were too frightened of myths to get too snippety over the wavering prices of direwolf food when they noticed a worker was wearing the traditional symbol of being a protectorate of the Coppice, a necklace that looks to be made of tiny silver ivy leaves twining along a chain. 

(Honestly, they’re giant wolves, Patton’s pretty sure people should factor in the cost of feeding them when considering getting one. And Amalthea’s doesn’t even sell direwolves! He has no idea why they stock feed for them!)

Patton guesses that most people probably would be frightened of shadows stealing them out of their beds as revenge enacted on behalf of the local populace of the Coppice. And also maybe of the Coppice itself, though most people only guessed at that. Patton’s exceptionally pleased that he’s not most people.

But anyways, Patton questions his decision to work at the Menagerie on days when those devilishly cute but devilishly clever wolpertingers manage to escape from their holding pen again and it means that Patton has to chase them around for half his shift. Patton is built for leisure, okay, not the cardio that comes with scrambling after winged, antlered hare-squirrels with fangs.

His shift is over by the time he manages to secure the last wolpertinger into its pen.

“You darn rascals,” Patton grumbles as he makes sure the latch is magically sealed again, feeling the slightly uncomfortable zing of magic buzz through his fingers as confirmation. 

He really does intend to look stern, so they understand they shouldn’t do this again, then immediately caves at the sight of a cute bunny face and reaches in to scratch between his antlers. 

He is pining for a drink at Tassology—now that it’s winter, probably a peppermint mocha with extra whip, chocolate shavings, and crunchy peppermint bits. Maybe he’ll get a pastry too, since it’s close to teatime; the idea cheers him up to the point where his attitude toward the wolpertingers is less ugh and more oh, you kids!

All right. And he maybe definitely wants to go see his favorite barista.

“Bye, Thea!” He calls to his boss on his way out of the door, who barely looks up from her latest copy of The Modern Witch magazine; he can only see the snakes that serve as Amalthea’s hair, which writhe in farewell. 

“C’mon, lazybones,” Patton says fondly to his own familiar, who has been absolutely no help with the wolpertingers, or much at all. Pumpkin, his big, fat, orange tabby of a familiar is mostly there to look cute. Much like Patton would like to be, really.

Pumpkin yawns as he painstakingly removes himself from one of the cat trees for sale, plodding toward him slowly before mashing his cheek into his shin, rubbing against him, before he starts twining around his ankles. Patton sneezes, bends, and picks him up, cradling him in his arms as he sets off for Tassology.

Patton’s technically a witch, but not the sort of witch that people set out to have them solve world-ending problems or break curses; Patton’s style of witchery is much more like Strega Nona and her magic pasta pot. 

He’s actually been pretty successful in making one, but the pot he’s trying to enchant only makes one style of pasta. He can do a lot of household magic, brew up the occasional tincture, or cast some pretty basic healing spells, and he’s magical enough to maintain a connection link to a familiar, but that’s about it, really. 

He’s comfortable with that, even if his favorite barista would certainly like to see Patton try to get out of his magical comfort zone.

Tassology is one of two coffee shops near the Coppice proper; most of the others are clustered around Astrelons, the Academy of the Arcane that lies on the very outskirts of the city and therefore close to the Coppice. Tassology is a particular favorite for wizarding students who live off-campus; it’s staffed entirely by wizards, students and adults. Patton backs into the door to push it open with his hip so that he doesn’t have to put Pumpkin down onto the cold ground because if he does Pumpkin will start yowling and pouting about wet, cold paws for ages. 

Patton sighs happily as he’s engulfed by the warm, coffee-scented air of Tassology. 

Tassology is like someone plucked a wizard’s sanctum out of a tower and plopped it into a coffee shop; the wall is dark, decorated with spangly silver stars that glimmer when the light hits them right, and on the ceiling the constellations, clouds, and moon magically rotate in time with the earth. 

There are little silver instruments scattered along bookshelves filled with heavy, ancient-looking tomes, and squashy brown leather loveseats and armchairs scattered across the center of the room in front of the fireplace, burning merrily with magical fire—today, it looks to be mercurial silver in color, heating the ever-changing cauldron full of some fiddly potion or another. There are little tables near the windows, most of them empty since it’s so close to closing time, but there remains a handful of dawdling students scowling at their research.

A raven immediately caws in greeting, flapping her wings and nearly smacking a mug off a shelf in her excitement.

Logan looks up from the tome he’d been reading so that Patton can see his beloved’s face. The corner of Logan’s mouth lifts as soon as he seems to realize that it’s Patton who’s just walked through the door, even in the midst of his recitation, and Patton smiles just at the sight of it: the faint freckles on Logan’s face that Patton’s stared at as Logan’s slept, the eyelashes brushing against Logan’s cheeks that blush such a charming pink, a slight scratch at his cheek from an overly excitable branch that hasn’t quite healed from the time of their last late-night excursion, being last night.

Logan gestures briefly to where Patton’s drink and a plate of obscured are sitting at the to-go station, before he returns his attention to the tome, chanting something under his breath all the while.

Patton grins. Tassology is staffed entirely by wizards, but more specifically, divinatory wizards—Tassology’s whole thing was coffee always made perfectly, exactly when you want it, exactly the way you want it, even if you yourself aren’t sure about what you’re ordering on the way there.

They offer a reading of the grounds if you pay a bit extra, if you wanted that, which of course the diviners knew if you wanted it before you even asked. It’s the best, and it’s most of the reason so many students from Astrelons come all the way to the Coppice for their caffeine hit.

He goes to the to-go station, picking up the kitten-patterned mug that Logan usually saves just for him. He juggles Pumpkin to one arm so he can pull the plate closer, so he can see what pastry Logan’s divined for him.

“Ooh!” Patton says, immediately pleased, immediately certain that it probably would have been exactly what he’d ordered in any non-magical café. A thick slice of three-layer chocolate cake sits on the plate, visibly moist, with mint-chocolate candy bits scattered throughout the buttercream between each layer, all of it topped off with fudgy, delicious frosting and chocolate curls pressed against the side.

Logan finishes his chanting, and the fire changes from bright silver to a low red, too red to pass off as a normal fire. Patton isn’t really sure what it means, but a lot of the spells Logan does with their rigid parameters are too academic and conceptual for Patton to understand. 

Logan looks pleased as Kamaria flies to settle on his shoulder, her talons digging into the reinforced padding Logan (and most wizards or witches with bird familiars) wears under his clothes. Kamaria’s jostling means Patton can see Logan’s silver ivy necklace poking out from where it’s tucked neatly under his collar; he wonders idly if Kamaria shifted Logan’s shirt enough if Patton would be able to see a peek of purple.

“Good spell?” Patton checks.

“Good spell,” Logan agrees. He leans across the counter, and Patton leans in to give him a quick kiss of greeting, Pumpkin chirping in his arms. 

“The academic kind?”

“Very academic—it’s a very traditional spell, but I hope that with my own modifications,” Logan begins, amused, clearly about to go into details when he’s interrupted. 

His eyes glow white and a wind Patton can’t feel tousles Logan’s hair almost in slow motion—a tell-tale sign that Logan’s having a vision. 

“Ah!” Logan says, in that strange double-speak that comes through if he’s making a prophecy or describing a vision: his own, normal voice, with a voice much lower and more gravelly underneath it. “It’ll impress my Evocation professor quite easily. That’s my end-of-semester project handled. Why a divinatory wizard has to take Advanced Evocation is beyond me, but I’ll receive a top grade.”

Logan’s eyes clear so that Patton can see the earth-brown iris and the black pupil again. 

“And how was work—wolpertingers again,” Logan says, in his normal voice. It’s not a question.

“Wolpertingers again,” Patton agrees wearily. “Amalthea’s about to call in an abjurer to try and make better wards for their pen. I swear chimeras might be less troublemaking.”

The corner of Logan’s mouth lifts. “I think you aren’t considering the trouble fire-breathers might cause.”

“Well, we have those little dragon-lizard-things—”

“Draco volans.”

“—yeah, those—and they breathe fire, and they’re sweet as can be. They like roasting marshmallows!”

“I think you’re underestimating chimeras.”

“I think you’re underestimating the wolpertingers,” Patton returns, setting Pumpkin on the ground so that he can properly pick up his plate and mug. “You’re working until close, right?”

Logan almost always takes the closing shift, for reasons Patton understands exceptionally well. It’s why he takes the close-to-closing shifts at Amalthea’s. He’s pretty sure no one else in the Coppice paid attention, too relieved to know they wouldn’t have to risk the darkness of night; no one really knew their reasons for lingering outside so late.

Well. Except one.

“Correct.”

Patton leans over to get another kiss, unable to help himself.

It is, perhaps, a bit too heated a kiss than Patton would usually give, but Tassology’s full of people minding their own business. So Patton feels like doing little teasing, just naughty enough to allow a flash of teeth against Logan’s lip, to savor the soft gasp Logan gives in response, to swallow the noise down and lave that same spot with his own tongue.

Logan smiles at him, bashful, when he pulls back before he glances at the door.

“Someone’s going to walk in within the next minute,” he tells Patton.

“All right,” Patton says, trying his very best to come off unaffected. He’s pretty sure neither of them is succeeding. “Hey, is that enchantment book still here?”

“In the bookshelf to the left of the fireplace,” Logan says. “The pasta pot again?”

“I want it to make marinara sauce too!” Patton says brightly. “I mean, I love a good bowl of pasta with butter and parmesan cheese, but I’d like some variety in my pasta.”

Patton grins at Logan mischievously. “A mix-aroni, if you will.”

Logan groans at the pun.

“Hey, do you think pesto would be easier to transition to? Maybe alfredo?” Patton continues. “I don’t wanna overwhelm Potton.”

“You named your pasta pot?” Logan says, then shakes his head fondly. “What am I saying, of course, you did.”

The bell jangles. Logan’s eyes flash white and, without looking at the customer, Logan says, “Medium drip coffee, sweet and black?”

“Uh, yeah,” the man says, startled. 

“I’ll ring you up; you can fill up over there. Sugar’s in the middle. Since you like blonde roasts, I’d recommend the half-city roast. It pairs very well with cinnamon—your cinnamon roll is here, by the way, warmed.” Logan taps a pastry bag.

“How did you—?” He begins before he shakes his head. “Wizards,” he mutters and goes to fill his to-go cup.

When his back is turned, Logan does a quick cantrip to make sure the cinnamon roll will maintain a perfectly warm temperature before his eyes flash white again—more customers, probably.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Patton says.

“Later,” Logan says in his double-voice, distracted, then, “Ugh, we don’t sell frappuccinos, and why would you want one in this weather?”

Patton follows Pumpkin to where he’s sprawled on the rug in front of the fire, purring happily as he soaks up the warmth. Kamaria lands beside Pumpkin and begins grooming him with her beak. 

Patton grins at the sight of their familiars. At least they can cuddle when Logan and Patton can’t; he can feel his connection to Pumpkin, the warmth of Logan’s magical fire, the sensation of a beak in his fur. Hair. Patton has hair. Pumpkin has fur.

Patton takes a detour to pick up the enchantment book before taking a seat in the squashiest, coziest-looking armchair closest to the hearth, wiggling around to get comfy. It doesn’t take much.

He sinks into the buttery leather, a puffy pillow nestled against his low back to help with any aching that comes from a day on his feet. He takes a sip of the coffee—rich and chocolatey, pepperminty, at a perfectly warm temperature, with that little zing that lets him know it’s been touched by Logan’s magic—and lets out a contented sigh.

He spends a lovely evening in a cozy armchair beside a fire that never wanes, crackling merrily all the while, eating a slice of cake so moist and delightful that Patton’s eyelashes flutter shut as he tries the first mouthful, and drinking a mocha that never gets cold.

He does try to read about the enchantments, really he does, but this tome is much more Logan’s kind of thing—full of fiddly little parameters, a thousand calculations, and steps that Patton would never remember on his own, much more rigid than Patton’s relaxed, folksy style of magic—that he sets it aside after making a valiant attempt for five pages.

He spends most of the evening alternately savoring his goodies, watching Logan, and daydreaming about what surely awaits them after work, his fingers alternately drifting to twine around his necklace of ivy or to rest just under his right collarbone.

Most of the time he even gets to combine at least two out of the three!

He watches as Logan goes about his business, moving in that utterly Loganish way that he does; no wasted movement, no embellishments without purpose, productive in every gesture. 

Cleaning a mug and, while flicking water off his fingers into the sink, using that same movement for a cantrip Patton spent a week teaching him to sweep any stray crumbs off the countertop.

Patton stares with such unbreaking attention it’s like Logan’s demonstrating the secrets of finding out the secrets of how to make Potton work the way he wants.

Pulling an espresso shot with factory-like efficiency, each and every time; Patton knows from drinking here that any drink made by Logan will be practiced repetitively until he reaches the same delicious result each and every time.

Patton tries to be subtle about it, to watch out of the corner of his eye, but he can’t help it if he drifts off, imagining those same strong, practiced hands on him.

Pointing out the sugar canisters to a student, and, when turning back, flicking his wrist so any errant, abandoned tomes leap back into place on the bookshelves.

The longer Patton watches him, the more he bites at the inside of his own lip, the more he eagerly watches the clock for the moment Patton will be able to whisk him out of here.

It’s just that Logan is so… tactical.

He realizes this is a trait that most people don’t find agonizingly attractive. Patton, prior to meeting Logan, hadn’t even tapped into the fact that precision and expertise were something he’d want—or, more accurately, something he’d daydream about, that he’d watch Logan be so dazzlingly competent and then melt into a vaguely Patton-shaped puddle over it. 

As it is, by the time Logan is calmly shepherding out the last of the Astrelons stragglers out of the door (“We’re closing. Yes, I know, but there are other perfectly serviceable cafés or libraries that are open to later hours, and seeing as this one isn’t, which was clearly written upon the door you walked through to get here, along with the warning announcements, you really should have known… yes, very comical, it’s almost as if I haven’t heard that joke about divination before, now please leave…”) Patton is trying his best not to squirm in his armchair, not to look too eager.

By the time the last person is just about pushed out of the door, Logan takes a moment to sigh, before he turns to face Patton.

“I know he’s stubborn, but this,” Logan begins wearily.

“But they’re gone now!” Patton says, practically vibrating. “Here, let me help—”

“Oh, Patton, really you don’t have to—”

“I want to!” Patton insists. 

They’ve talked about this a lot. Patton’s magic—folksy and householdy—are much more inclined to certain skills, in the same way Logan’s rigid, scholarly magic inclines him to others. One of the minuscule branches of magic Patton can cast very easily, and one that takes Logan a great deal of study, are most cleaning magics.

Logan tends to argue that it shouldn’t fall to Patton to clean up after him, considering it is part of Logan’s job, and therefore his responsibility; Patton points out that by doing it, it gets them both out of there quicker, and anyways Patton gets a friend and family discount on his purchases from here, can’t he repay that somehow? Which Logan will usually counter with Patton gets the friends and family discount because he is a friend, and therefore it isn’t something to repay, hasn’t Patton pointed out that friendship and companionship aren’t transactional in nature? And Patton will waver, and go, well, yeah, true, at their base it shouldn’t, but don’t you want to get out to the Coppice faster? And Logan will say that isn’t the point, and even though Patton is inclined toward household magics, it certainly shouldn’t mean Patton should feel responsible for cleaning up after Logan, who is a capable adult, and he doesn’t want to lean into any sort of prejudices about certain kinds of witchery and wizardry, and Logan’s done all kinds of reading about invisible labor and the way it affects partners, and Patton will go, well, magic isn’t really invisible, is it, I mean, you can see it working, and Logan says being painstakingly literal is usually his thing, and Patton knows what he means—

It’s an ongoing discussion, anyway.

So before the discussion can even start, Patton lifts his arms, and Logan’s eyes flash white, and he says in that double-voice, “Patton, you really don’t have to, it’s my job—”

But it’s too late; Patton has made a wide, forward expression with both arms like he’s pushing something very heavy, and the magic’s off with a whirlwind that rustles Kamaria’s feathers, a pleasant tingle that shoots down Patton’s shoulders all the way to his fingertips, unknitting any knots of tension that have built up during the day. Patton trots into the kitchen to watch, but the magic’s already started.

In unison, the dirty mugs and plates spring into the receptacles customers are meant to place them once they’re done with them, which bustle off to sinks that are already filling with hot, soapy water, brushes and sponges springing to attention as the dishes leap into their makeshift bath one-by-one to be scrubbed clean; towels briskly wipe them dry; the mugs and plates stack themselves obediently on their shelves in their cabinets; the shop’s three brooms are merrily sweeping out crumbs and detritus from various corners; a mop and bucket dance alongside, swabbing the hardwood until it gleams clean; the fiddly silver instruments shake themselves free of smudgy fingerprints; washcloths swipe carefully along the chairs, the tables, the leather, disinfecting and polishing; the ovens drop open and the coffee makers spring open so the stains and spills since the last time Patton did this can be scoured away.

The rugs even march themselves outside to beat themselves free of dust, before marching themselves back in and lying flat where they were, the tables and chairs and bookshelves obligingly floating briefly in the air to allow them to lie themselves out just so. The chairs float to turn themselves atop the tables, stacking neatly off the floor.

And, within five minutes, Tassology is faultlessly, gleamingly clean, everything back in its proper place, Kamaria hopping to a perch and flapping her wings. Pumpkin, entirely used to this, still dozes by the fire, unseeing and uncaring of the cleaning magic scooting around Patton’s familiar, so that Pumpkin can have a nice, uninterrupted nap.

Patton claps his hands as the last of the chairs scoots itself into place on its respective place.

“Thank you!” He calls, and he feels that pleasant, familiar feeling rushing through him; magic saying oh, you’re welcome, you’re welcome, thank you! and he is immediately warm and pink-cheeked with pleasure, wanting to wrap his arms around himself in a hug.

“Patton,” Logan says, “I appreciate it, but you really didn’t have to. It’s my job, anyway, I should be the one doing it.”

Patton pulls Logan out of the back door of the kitchen, looking back at him over his shoulder, purposefully batting his eyelashes and grinning.

“Isn’t me using magic to help so much better than having to wait, though?” He purrs.

Logan’s face seems to be warring between a stern expression born out of a love for rules and all things orderly and delight at the fact his boyfriend is quite literally dragging him to be somewhere in private.

The delight wins.

The barely-visible heat in Logan’s eyes ignites Patton, too, a low fire leaping to life to simmer in his belly. He barely manages to lead them past the treeline before Patton swings them around, Patton pressing his back against the rough bark of a pine tree. They’re past the unofficial line border of the Coppice; that will serve to hide them from any prying eyes.

Patton wraps his arms around Logan’s neck, and Logan bends his head to Patton’s, all too willing to seal their lips together.

He picks right back up where they left off; a bite to Logan’s lip, his tongue at the same place in an instant, except now, without a counter between them, Logan’s arms are free to wrap themselves tightly around Patton’s waist, pulling him ever closer.

The wind roars in his ears, and he swears he hears a dark, low voice in the wind, one that makes the purple aster tattooed over his chest throb in the cold, the same sensation of taking off your mitten and thrusting your bare hand into the snow. 

Harlot, the wind whispers fondly in his ears.

Patton shivers happily, pressing himself closer into Logan’s warm chest; he opens his eyes in time to see the wind caress lovingly through Logan’s hair, and Logan’s eyes change color again. Except they don’t go white, this time.

Pure black bleeds from the iris, until looking into Logan’s eyes is like swimming in pools of ichor. Far from the panic he’d felt the first time this happened, Patton simply smiles, tilting his head back to meet Logan’s gaze. 

“You like it,” Patton says confidently.

Logan smiles; not his typical smile, like he’s hiding it because serious people shouldn’t smile, or the shy one he gives to Patton in private. This is all teeth, the expression of something—someone—who has observed the act of smiling but hasn’t quite figured it out for himself yet.

“We do,” Logan says in that different double-voice; half Logan, half stormy gale roaring in Patton’s ears.

Patton grins, pressing the suddenly-cold space below his right collarbone to the matching space just under Logan’s collarbone, which he’d bet has gone just as cold as his. He knows, now, even without lifting his shirt to check, that the entwined ivy, purple aster, and honeysuckle tattooed will have grown more vividly intense in color, less like a watercolor painting and more like acrylic.

The ichor starts to leech from Logan’s iris, as Logan gives a full-body shudder and groans. Patton steadies him when his knees go suddenly wobbly; Patton knows how much Logan likes this, likes to use his body to play host, but they can’t do it for very long, because the one Logan’s hosting is a nervous Nelly.

Black whips around them, a suddenly opaque wind that no one would be able to see into, wrapping around Logan and Patton like a cocoon, vast and endless around them.

The name I chose for myself is not Nelly, the stormgale grumbles, less into Patton’s ears and more like emanating from his very bones.

Patton grins against Logan’s mouth.

“I know, darling,” he says aloud. “It’s not intended to be a slight, I promise.”

Patton has to talk a little old-fashioned, to get past any communication gap. There’s been progress, but some aspects of language seem to elude him still; he picked he/him pronouns after a lengthy attempt at educating him about it. I’ll use the ones you both use, he’d told Logan and Patton, somewhat crossly after a long evening spent trying to understand the idiosyncrasies of human language. That way we’ll all match.

Also: teaching a living embodiment of forest about pronouns? Not really something Patton ever expected he’d have to do!

Most of what he’s seen of humans is from afar, and the last ones who got close were the Whitesummers, which doesn’t count because he kind of pushed up their daisies, if you will. 

Anyways. They’re working on modern slang, but it takes him a while to get a hang of it. 

There’s a lot of things that he’s confused by, little things like mochas and pet shops, and also big things like colonization and humanity, but Patton’s confused by a lot of him too; what it must be like being a timeless embodiment of forest whose existence has stretched over probably-millennia and maybe-eons, for one.

Hence, harlot in attempted dirty-talk. Which Patton actually quite likes, thank you very much; his lovers both seem to be fans of Patton’s enthusiasm, which makes Patton even more enthusiastic.

“I like the name you chose.”

“As do I,” Logan growls; they’re so close that Patton can see the way his pupils have gone wide, his hands suddenly fumblingly eager at Patton’s hips. Though Patton likes the way that they combine, for those fleeting moments, the way the pair of them in one body kiss him, Logan loves it. 

They think it’s something about his divinatory powers, that he can do that to Logan and not to Patton; Logan’s tried to describe it, the way that full-body hold feels, and each time he tries he ends up wordless, then immediately moving to kiss Patton, worked up from the sheer memory of it.

Logan presses him back against the tree bark to lean down and seals his mouth to Patton’s, swallowing up Patton’s delighted moan. God, it’s good, it’s so good, is it any wonder Patton spent half the evening fantasizing of this—of the warmth of their bodies together, the frost of Virgil all around them, Logan’s tongue against his lips, and Logan’s body pressing against his, and Logan, Logan, Logan.

Patton leans eagerly into Logan’s touch; he loves Logan’s disciplined nature as much as he loves the way Logan loses it, just for them, and he practically purrs as Logan grabs at his thigh, kneading at the flesh there, while pressing his open mouth against Patton’s pulse.

Patton gasps, throwing his head back to thump unpleasantly against the tree, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, not with Logan’s mouth moving against his neck, sucking hard at the sensitive flesh in the way that Patton dreams about, and Patton’s eyes shutter shut as he grips tightly at Logan’s hair, his back, scrambling for some kind of foothold.

Say it, he says, that stormy gale that seems to start deep inside Patton’s sternum and thrum throughout his whole skeleton, clattering his teeth. Say my name.

“Virgil,” Patton gasps, head thrown back against the tree, bark scratching unpleasant-pleasant across his scalp, Logan’s mouth an unbearably perfect spark of warmth on his throat. 

The wind roars around them, the shadows whipping to life, every blade of grass in the forest and every leaf of every tree attuned to them, just to them, imparting Virgil’s passion and curiosity and heat and concupiscence and love, always love.

Logan pressed between Patton’s thighs, the rest of their bodies engulfed in a possessive, supernatural chill, wrapped around them and between them and in them, it almost seems, Virgil’s presence all around them. 

The silver ivy around his neck going so bitingly cold, that perfect counterpoint to Logan’s teeth scraping against his neck.

Logan kissing him, so greedy, so wonderful—

The wind slips slyly under Patton’s shirt, and Patton giggles a little against Logan’s mouth at it, ticklish, breaking the kiss long enough for the wind to whip just right so that Patton’s shirt comes off. 

Shadows erupt from the earth to wreath around Patton’s legs, Patton’s thighs, Patton’s ribs, Patton’s neck, pressing against Patton’s mouth in as much a kiss as he can without a mouth, the sensation that cold, that divine opposite to Logan’s warm, wet mouth, the taste of honeysuckle bursting in his mouth.

It’s all so good, it’s all so tortuously good—

“Fuck, you were so right,” Logan rasps, practically rapturous, “why on earth would I not take the fastest route to get here—”

Patton, giggling, gently pushes Logan to sit, then presses Logan’s back against the bed of forest leaves that rustles eagerly around them, Logan’s hands bracing his hips, soft and tender, trying hard not to feel self-conscious at Logan’s reverent stare. 

It’s humbling to be the recipient of such adoration. His lovely, serious barista, so full of important visions of the future, so studious and so well-planned, trusting Patton enough to let down some of those guards, to look at Patton with such a warm, appreciative stare, to look at Patton as if he is the most perfect, most beautiful, most dazzling creature to walk the earth. It’s such an honor to watch Logan let himself get fumbling with the craving of the both of them, to lose himself.

It’s humbling, to enter the forest, to crack himself open to bear witness to a sliver of the love of him, for Virgil is so vast, so endless, that to know all of Virgil’s feelings for him would surely be to drown in them for the rest of his life. To try and return some of that, to behold Virgil, to learn his name, and to have that for himself, for Logan, his love. It staggers Patton on a daily basis.

Patton is so fortunate to be surrounded by so much love.

You are beautiful, the wind thrums, from the deepest part of his chest, whispering through the browned, fallen leaves, pushing Logan’s hair back from his forehead, Logan turning his head keenly into the touch of their lover. You are so beautiful.

He moves the conversation along quite handily by straddling Logan’s waist and twining the shadows between his fingers and bending to kiss Logan, feeling that stormy wind rush through his hair and down his spine, leaving goosebumps in their trail—

It’s going to be a long, perfect night.

[jujujitsu]

Ooh hello bby. I'd love something with Wulver Reiner, fluffy NSFW (not just fluffy because he's part wolf, hurr hurr). I feel like you know me pretty well, but definitely ask me if you need more specifics.

Zeki! Thanks for your support! Hope you enjoy. I totally went over my self promised word count. Minors DNI! NSFW Word Count 1754 (Briefly edited sorry for typos)

Information for the event found HERE.

The woods were like a second home to you, or rather, your true home, as you liked to joke. Your knowledge of the forest was impressive, and the only time you felt confident was when you talked about animals and plants thriving in your backyard paradise. In your mind, you could go anywhere without a plan and find your way home without trouble. It was such an empowering feeling to be one with nature the way you believed you were.

So why were you suddenly disoriented? Fear. It gripped your throat and caused your head to spin. The trees which you loved so much crowded in on you. The branches above you wove together to eclipse the sky. It was dusk, and the night creeped in, darkening your world even more. Everything looked the same, and you swore you passed by that one fucking log ten times already. What the hell was going on? Why was the place you considered your sanctuary suddenly your living nightmare? Your chest was tight, and your heart felt as if it would burst from your chest. For the first time in what felt like hours, you sat down and cried. “Hum, don’t tell me you’re lost, girlie,” came a rough voice from behind you.

You whirled around and screamed, “Please! Don’t hurt me!” “Agh, quit screaming, would yah?” the voice replied. You couldn’t see who spoke. You knew it was a man and that he was behind you, but the problem was, no one was actually behind you. “My ears are sensitive to loud noises, you know.” You saw golden eyes staring at you from the darkness. They were beautiful and reminded you of a wolf, but that was impossible. Wolves couldn’t speak. Now you were intrigued more than terrified. “That’s better,” he said as he walked into view. Soft pointed ears perked up with interests from short, tousled blonde hair. His nose was prominent with slight hook and notable bridge-wait-you knew him! It was the guy who ran the vegetable stand down the road. He parked there every weekend in his classic blue pickup truck. He had a stand with loads of seasonal favorites, and you bought from him regularly. You knew that nose. You knew that face.

“Reiner?” He finger-gunned and let out a stupid chuckle. “You got it. Almost thought you were going to shriek again, but I guess you aren’t used to seeing the real me.” The real him. A half man, half wolf THING! Complete with a bushy blonde tail and claws. That’s why he always wore gloves and shied away from letting his hands be exposed. He wouldn’t even shake your hand when you introduced yourself. There were times you made him laugh because you were clumsy as hell and accident-prone. He’d laugh once and turn away to hide his smile or cover his mouth completely. Of course, he did this after making sure you were alright and not hurt. Concern before humor seemed to be how he operated. You wondered why he hid his smile, but now you understood because he was actually smiling now, and you saw his canines. They were fangs! Sharp fangs that could do some damage. “You’re...you’re not going to hurt me, are you?” “Zeki, seriously? Why would I hurt my favorite customer?” he laughed. “I came looking for you. It was close to dark, and you hadn’t come out of the forest, so I got worried.” “You- wait-have you been spying on me!?” He flattened his ears and put his hands up. “No, no, not like that! Ugh, look I… just kind of keep an eye on you because-“ “Because you’re stalking me, weirdo!” “No! Shit, let me finish before you toss accusations like that!” Reiner huffed. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I just kinda watch to see when you come and go, and I will occasionally check on you to make sure you’re alright. My nose isn’t up your ass completely, I swear!” It was cute how flustered he was. He did a complete 180. That cool, collected introduction was dismantled, and he was left trying to pick up the pieces, so he didn’t sound like a creep. It was funny to you despite your senses shouting in alarm. Reiner-whatever the hell he was- shouldn’t exist. It was impossible, but here he was standing before you blushing with embarrassment in a red and black button-up shirt that was about to snap because his tits were too goddamn big. “I guess this is a bad time to confess my feelings too, huh?” he asked. “Feelings?” “Yeah, I, uh… kinda like you a lot and this isn’t helping my case, is it?” “Not at all,” you reply. He deflates completely, and you shook your head. “Look, I’m just not in the best mind set right now. Can you get me home and we can talk about it tomorrow?” “You… won’t tell anyone about what I am, will you?” he asked. “What if I do?” “I would have to leave, and I’d never get to see you again,” he said. “Please… don’t tell anyone.” You promised him you wouldn’t, and he was happy because in his mind, that meant you wanted him to stay. You weren’t sure what you wanted for yourself, but you figured you’d sleep on it and revisit it tomorrow. He got you to the edge of your property and you parted ways. When you turned back after opening the back door to your house, you saw his eyes glowing in the treeline. He made sure you got inside before leaving.   “What a kind gesture,” you thought. “Just like every weekend when you load my car and shut my driver’s side door.” You liked him. You liked him a lot and you sure as shit didn’t have the courage to say anything to him. He was too handsome, and you always thought he was some local football hot shot who didn’t quite make his dream of playing in the pros come true. Of course, he acted nothing like a jock. Just had the physique of one.  

What floored you was that he liked you back! You never imagined it happening. It was just a wonderful what-if scenario that entered your brain and gave you a boost of extra serotonin when you got off at night. It was funny sometimes, the shit that played in your mind. He’d knock on the door after you visited him one day at his roadside stand. You hurried out of the shower to get the door, so you wrapped your towel around your waist to answer it. You’d never do that shit in real life. This was just the fantasy but, he’d say something like, “Hey Zeki, I forgot to load this crate of squash. That’s my-“

He’d stop speaking and just look at you with those pretty golden eyes. His gaze would go to your cleavage as it spilled over the snug towel. “Did I interrupt something?” he’d ask. Maybe he thought there was another man or something, but you explained you just finished your shower and that he could bring the crate inside. You’d show him where to put it.

Gods, it was cliché. He’d put it down, turn to you, and you’d coyly say you wish there was some way to thank him for coming all this way.

And that’s how you’d end up fucking him on the kitchen counter. He was strong. You saw those fucking muscles and how tight his shirts were. He could lift you and fuck you standing without a problem.

After meeting him in the woods, you imagined that same scenario except this time; he showed you his real self after coming through the door. He’d mount you and he’d bite your neck will rutting behind you like a wild dog. The feelings you felt as you thought about your first time with him were explosive. Knotted and claimed by the pretty wolf man who sold vegetables at a roadside stand. You came so hard at the imagery.

The next day you went to see him just as he was closing shop. Relief spread over his face when he saw you and he dropped everything to greet you.

“I… I thought I chased you away,” he muttered. “I’m so glad you came to see me. I-I put everything up in the truck if you want to look at the produce-.”

“You said you wanted to talk about your feelings?”

He blushed and shied away. His wide brim sun hat concealed everything, including his ears. “Yeah.”

“First, thank you for coming to help me. I don’t know why I got so disoriented in the forest. It’s never happened before, but you saved me, and I appreciate you for it. Now, concerning your confession, I want you to know I liked you too, you know. I’m not good at conveying my feelings, so I know it wasn’t obvious.”

“Liked?” he questions as he looks up. “So… you don’t…”

“What? Yeah, of course I still like you!” you hurriedly say. “Ugh, sorry! I’m not good with words. It feels like high school or something. We’re grown adults!”

“It’s not always easy, even when you’re an adult, you know,” Reiner chuckled. “Even a big guy like me gets shy. You make that happen more than anyone else. I kinda like it, though.”

You shifted. It was awkward but in a cute way. You weren’t sure what else to say because everything was on the table. He rubbed the back of his neck and blushed brighter than before. He was trying to figure out what to say next, and you were just… anxious.

“SO dinner at my place?” you say together.

You both pause and stare at one another, questioning the other if that just happened, and you both burst out laughing after realizing it fucking did. The mood shifted from tense to relaxed. It was suddenly so easy to just talk after that silly moment tipped everything over the edge.

You were in love. There was no doubt about it. You were in love with the roadside vegetable stand seller, who was also quirky in his own supernatural way. Someone driving by had to do a double take because they swore they saw a huge bushy tail sprouting from the man escorting you to your vehicle. Lucky for the two of you, they dismissed it and went on about their business. After all, it was impossible for a man to be part wolf, right?

[real-kastek]

Darkened Drabbles: Chapter 12

Best Buds

(Prompt: Kris & Susie run into Toriel & Sans; both of the duos are on a date.)

"Cut it out..."

"Just let me see 'em then!"

"No! Just…agh!"

You brush away the girl's claws, fending off her assault.

"Come on, you're always hiding them! What've you got? Blue eyes? Yellow?" Susie's grin drops away, "…do humans have yellow eyes?"

You grumble, pushing through the diner's exit, the soft jingle of the bell ringing out.

"No...no? I don't know, but-"

Your eyes go wide as you scramble out into the cool fall air, narrowly avoiding the dragon's grasp.

"Come here!"

"No!"

"Just let me look, you weirdo! I won't laugh, promise!"

"You said that when I showed you my ears!"

"That was a sneeze, not a laugh, now let me just- AHA!"

You feel your shoes scraping against the concrete. You should be moving. Why aren't you moving? Why were the customers in QC still staring at you and not far in the distance?

"Hold still!"

Scaled hands wrap around your sides, lifting you just an inch from the ground as you continue to squirm in her grasp.

"Wiry little…would you stop fidgeting?! I just wanna see!" Susie pouts, a growl picking up in her chest, "If you don't stop I'll-"

You had the power. You just needed to act. To deny. You would break free!

You weakly squirm in the dragoness' arms, to her annoyance. She groans, lazily carrying you off to the building's side, away from prying eyes.

"Fiiiine."

You squeak, the air shooting from your lips as you're wrapped in a soul-crushing hug. You blink back the dizzying images of twisting trees and multiple dragons, barely sensing the maw resting in the crook of your neck.

"…come on. We've been like a…th-thing, for a while." The mauve girl's breath shudders against you, warmth painting your cheek, "Just wanna see what you look like. Never see your eyes under all that."

Scales brush up past your hair, patterns of glittering purple pressing against your cheek.

"…please? Won't laugh if you have big cute-" She clears her throat, "D-Dumb, dumb blue eyes. Or something."

You slump down into her arms, a sour look twisting in your features. Had she really never seen your eyes? It had been almost a month and…she's never seen your eyes. You sigh dejectedly. Did she really need to? You kept your hair long for a reason, but you didn't mean to hide from her. You didn't mean to make it seem like you were…

You glance back up at the dragoness, her cheeks flushing a deep purple, amber irises avoiding your gaze.

"Ugh…fine." You shake your head, "Just…no laughing. If you laugh, I'm-"

The air in your lungs is seized once more with a spine-shattering embrace, the dragoness beginning to snort softly in your ear. Before the world can darken to nothingness, she pulls away, a sheepish, fang-laden grin plastered on her maw.

"…still do that snorting thing when you're happy."

The dragoness' eyes narrow, one last huff echoing out.

"So…can I…" She grumbles quietly.

You roll your head limply from side to side as you feel your feet connect back with the sidewalk, "…I guess."

The girl's smile returns as she closes in, her eyes and lips only inches away. You suddenly feel very claustrophobic with your back to the diner's chipped walls, a frenzied monster looming over. You swallow sharply, her claws gently grazing up from under your hair's shroud, light slowly filtering through as she reveals what lay hidden. Your chest tightens, heart racing.

"K-Kris?! Susie?!"

Hair falls into your eyes as Susie's hand snaps back to her side, leaving you in peaceful darkness.

"Wh-What are you two…?"

You gently pick at brown strands of hair, fixing the already messy form into something slightly less messy. You didn't like showing your eyes, but really, you just didn't want to fix your hair most days. You sigh, giving up on the effort.

"come on Tori, they're just close friends. really close."

You freeze.

You force your gaze further down the sidewalk, hands tensing at your sides. Those aren't the voices you want to hear. Not now. Not together. Why together? This isn't the convenience store. This isn't school. This was supposed to be safe, sacred.

"i'm sure the kid was just playing around; maybe they had something on their face. something you can only see if you're two inches away."

"Th-That is, but…Kris?! My child, what is happening? What were you two doing?"

Your eyes follow up from the ground, your mother's spotted purple dress skirt coming painfully into view. You attempt to avert your gaze, only finding soulless, eyeless sockets staring back from her side.

"H-Hi Ms. Tori- I-I mean Ms. D-Dreemurr!"

In your vague sense of consciousness, you can hear Susie audibly gulping, her claws tapping together as she wrings them mercilessly.

"Hello Susie. Hello…Kris."

You wince. You know that tone. You have about ten seconds to say your piece.

"H-Hey m-mom." You choke, swallowing down the tightness in your throat, "We we're…uh, I mean, S-Susie and I were just h-having lunch, and she…food!" You spring to life, tone raising by the second, "I-I had food on my forehead! She was getting it off!"

Toriel crosses her arms, eyes narrowing from behind her glasses.

"…you had food on your forehead, young one?"

"…yes?"

She pinches the bridge of her nose, "…what kind of food did you order?"

"Th-They got a grilled cheese! Y-Yeah!"

Your eye begins to twitch as the dragoness nudges you in the side, a self-satisfied grin blooming on her maw.

"Ah, I understand. So, there was a piece of bread stuck to your forehead, correct?"

The scaled girl goes silent, maw snapping shut as she shrinks from the world.

A bemused sigh emanates out in the sudden quiet, a weak chuckle breaking through, "happens to me all the time kid. bit of cheese, soup, an entire cinnamon roll."

The self-proclaimed skeletal janitor approaches you, laying a boney hand on your shoulder, his beaming grin causing a strange combination of frustration and relief to bubble up from your chest.

"honestly, seems like this whole thing is just a sticky situation, huh?"

You stare down.

Frustration. The feeling was definitely frustration, not relief.

The agonizing silence is broken once more, a delicate snorting soon forming into full-blown laughter.

"tori, come on, it wasn't that funny. i'd even say it was pretty-"

You close your eyes, gritting your teeth.

"…cheesy."

Forget it. Better to be sent to your room for the rest of your days. This was inhumane.

"S-Sans, please! I-" Toriel allows another bout of giggling to break forth, "Th-This is not the time!"

The smaller skeleton chuckles deeply, peering back up to you with a wink.

"aw, come on Tori. kids were just goofin' around. they're probably just friends like we are."

Your mouth hangs agape, the skeleton continuing to grin wildly back.

"O-Oh, well, I-" You glance at your mother, her cheeks flushing red, "I'm not sure it's…quite the same."

Your eyes dart between the two monsters, panic swelling in your chest.

"i dunno. what do you think, kid? you think your mom and i make good pals?"

You can't think. Your mind is going blank. What is happening? Are you being saved? Is this some kind of hell?

"U-Uh…yeah! You two look like good friends. Yep."

A nervous grin returns to Susie's maw as she nods along.

"exactly. we're all good friends. so, you two been friends for a while now? seen ya running around town, look like you get along."

"Y-Yeah! Kris and I have been together for, think a month now or-" Susie chokes, sputtering through the words, "WE'VE BEEN HANGING OUT TOGETHER FOR A WHILE."

The girl's roars echo across the town. She stares up and into the sky, away from the current situation.

You sigh. This wasn't going to end.

"…sometimes hang out after school." You grumble, energy leaving your body, "Go to QC's, sometimes out by the lake. It's fun. Haven't…" You pause, "…she's special to me. It's been nice having someone I can talk to."

You meekly glance at your mother, her eyes softening.

"Didn't really get along in class a lot. But now we do. She's…a good person." You chuckle painfully, watching as your mother opens her mouth to speak, only to shirk away, her lips pulled into a quiet smile.

"…i'm glad kid. sounds like you two are good together. always good to have a pal." Sans mutters, a softer tone to his words.

"so…never really been to QC's." The skeleton's voice picks right back up in seconds, a thin mockery underlying the clacking of his mouth, "what would you recommend for two buddies going to grab some grub tonight?"

Toriel clears her throat, a hint of pink burning under her fur, "Yes Kris, do you know what QC has on the menu these days? I'm not sure the last time we all came here as a family. I remember you and your brother would always visit when I was busy at parent-teacher conferences. Oh! Do they still have that adorable little hot chocolate with the bunny-eared marshmallows? Oh, you used to love those! I remember when you and Asriel would play pretend with them and do these funny little voices that-"

"QC's cinnamon rolls are good. Maybe try the stew, it can be a bit heavy though. She has salads, but make sure to ask for them finely chopped, otherwise you'll get whole carrots and celery mixed in." You rattle off anything you can think of, heat burning in your cheeks, "And, the…uh…french fries are good. Yeah. Yep."

Sans casually stuffs his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, his smile appearing to widen even more than thought possible, "nice. love some potato sticks. needs ketchup though. they got ketchup?"

You nod, looking off into the distance.

"cool. thanks kid, no wonder your mom likes you. i've heard rave reviews."

You grit your teeth, lips turning inwards.

"well Tori, you wanna see what they got on the menu? leave these close buds for a bit?" The skeleton passes by your frozen form, lazily meandering down towards the diner's corner.

"Y-Yes, I, well-" Toriel smiles back, turning to you with a much darker expression, "I hope you two will be…safe, getting home. Okay?"

You suddenly struggle to breathe, the air becoming trapped in your throat as you begin choking.

"W-Will do Ms. Dreemurr! Promise, we'll get home safe!"

The dragoness leans an arm on your shoulder as you continue struggling for oxygen.

"Yes…I'm sure you will return home safely. And be safe in general." Toriel sighs, adjusting her glasses back up along her nose, "I love you my child. I will see you at home later. Have a good evening."

A flicker of a smile rests on her fuzzy face before she dances past, following the clacking skeleton close beside. You hear your mother begin to laugh once more from some distant joke, echoing in the residual bits of mind you still maintain.

"Sooo…" Susie clicks her tongue, leaning down to your eye level, "What'cha wanna do now?"

You blink.

"…breathe. Live. Hide in the Dark World for the rest of my life."

"Nah, still need you for the group project. Besides, your mom seemed cool with us being friends, right?" The dragoness wraps her arm around your shoulders fully, beginning to meander down the sidewalk with you in tow.

"Wha-" You choke once more, clearing your throat of tightness, "What do you mean?"

"Seemed cool with us being friends. Think we're still in the clear, don't think she knows we're…y-ya know."

You stare up at the softly grinning dragon, "Susie…she knows. She one-hundred percent knows."

Her eyes go wide, piercing amber glowing under her mane, "H-Hey, you don't know that she knows! I mean, clearly they're a thing though! Like, how obvious can you be? Seriously, your mom's super into him."

You freeze in place once more, face burning, "Stop."

"What? Kinda cute in a weird way. Like, he's dorky and short, she's tall and smart. It works." Her lips are pulled into a fanged grin, "Kinda like-"

"I hate this." You mutter.

The dragoness pauses, placing a finger to her lips, deep in thought.

"…you think they've…ya know. Like-"

"Please stop."

"What? I'm just saying. They might've-"

"I'm begging you."

"Think they've b-"

"If you finish that joke I'm breaking up with you."