#poor ruby has to put up with so much

[patchodraws]

but let’s be real, yang was putting on a show

anyways sleeve tattoo yang here we fucking GOOOOO

[mariasont]

Please, Don't Prove 'Em Right - A.H

a/n: my girl sabrina can do no wrong and i have been listening to this song on repeat since it came out so i just absolutely needed to write a fic about it

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: aaron hotchner is a busy man and he tends to disappoint you by missing important events

warnings: angst (sorry in advance), aaron is like not a great husband, reader is also an imperfect character, reader is a girl boss though

wc: 1.2k

You were in your best dress. More expensive than you'd ever think about buying for yourself, but it had been a gift from Aaron. You had fought him on it, scolding him for spending so much on a dress you were sure to only wear once. But he had insisted, telling you that this opportunity was once in a lifetime and that it would be a sin for it to not be celebrated with a dress that made you shine like a ruby.

He was right, partly, you were shining--glowing, sparkling, glittering--as you moved through the library. It was beautiful, to say the least--all opulence and history that was almost too much to absorb. The marble floors almost seemed to amplify the conversations around you, the clinking of glasses, the swish of overpriced gowns and tuxedos.

Your eyes settled on the tiered desks fitted with bronze reading lamps, now repurposed as a station for hors d'oeuvres and champagne. The circular arrangement of desks, once centered around knowledge, now facilitated hushed gossip and the discreet laughter of society's finest.

You could almost hear what they were thinking: there she is again without her husband, that poor thing always by herself, and your personal favorite—does he even exist?

You wanted to be angry, to scold their prying eyes, for putting their noses into something that had nothing to do with them whatsoever. But could you really blame them? Every event you attended you told the same story--my husband is a busy man with an important job--a line you had grown tired of repeating. 

And that was all true. He devoted most of his time to saving lives--how could you find fault in that? How could you complain to having a husband whose very essence was self-sacrifice and heroism?

This evening was set to be an exception; he was in New York for a case, and the Pulitzer Prize ceremony was not something he would miss. He had given you his word.

You understood his passion for his job, completely, because you held that same passion for your own. You dedicated years of your life to your journalism, investigating corruption at its highest levels. This is exactly how you ended up here tonight, nominated for a Pulitzer Prize for that very work. A Pulitzer Prize.

The term once seemed like a fantastical concept to you, a lofty accolade reserved for the likes of JFK, Bob Dylan, Robert Frost--icons, not someone as ordinary as you. Yet, against all odds, you find yourself among the select few, a nominee for an honor that has only been won by 1,512 individuals since 1917, a fact Spencer had supplied you with.

Someone was speaking to you, saying your name. Almost without thinking, your hand found a flute of champagne, taking a generous sip before turning to face them.

"You look stunning, and a well-deserved congratulations are in order. Everyone back at the office is cheering for you." It was your boss, her stilettos adding inches to her already imposing frame.

The flattery didn't quite mask her usual coldness, it was all too artificial. She wasn't your biggest fan, and she had made that clear from your first day. Still, you mustered a smile and thanked her anyway, taking another sip of champagne, hoping to drown away her nauseating voice.

"It's too bad your husband couldn't be here," she began, and you had to resist the urge to rip out her extensions. "This is an incredible accomplishment, but he's quite the busy man, as you say."

"Yes, he is busy, but he'll be here tonight," you replied, flashing her your best smile as you smoothed the red fabric that suddenly felt too tight. "He's actually here in New York on a case."

"Oh, how great. I can't wait to put a face to the name." You could tell by the look she shot her own husband that she didn't believe a word from your mouth. "Anyway, I have to go speak with an academy representative, but I'll see you and your husband at the ceremony?"

You responded with a nod, not dignifying her with words as she left, her giggles a bitter sound. You hated her. And you were ready to make her eat her words when your husband, who looked absolutely incredibly in a suit, showed up.

But then it was dinner, and you found yourself alone, surrounded by a table of important people whose names you couldn't remember. The seat beside you was empty and suddenly that omnipotent, cloud-nine feeling you had vanished with the time that passed.

The text you sent piled up, feeling a little juvenile, like you were back in high school again getting stood up at prom.

Let me know when you're close!

Is everything going okay?

Call me if you can.

An onslaught of anxious thoughts skyrocketed around your mind as you mechanically chewed the fancy food that only seemed to upset your stomach further. What if something happened? Was he okay? Did the case go wrong? Did he get in a car accident on the way here?

You were a bundle of nerves, gnawing on the inside of your mouth as your heel tapped up and down against the floor. But this wasn't borne from concern for his well-being; deep down, you were certain he was fine. The truth was simpler and sharper: he wasn't coming.

You should have been prepared, should have braced for this, but you were convinced that this time, this occasion would be an exception.

You name was being called, but this time not by someone wanting to extract prying information or stir speculation, no, this time it was carried across the crowed, wrapped in the microphone's static hum.

Your head snapped up, fingers ceasing their fidgeting as you struggled to mask the shock and avoid the gaping, breathless look of a fish out of water.

You had won.

People were clapped, but it seemed far away as you made your way to the stage, hands coming from all directions to offer pats on the back and handshakes of congratulations.

You had won.

Your feet were carrying you up a small set of stairs. You were trying to remember how to walk--left, right, heel, toe. There was a bright light on you now, prompting a slight squint and you worked to keep a smile on your face as you accepted the award.

You had to be dreaming. Had to be. There was no other explanation.

You were on display now, under the intense stage lights. Your body was on autopilot, stepping behind the podium, words flowing out of your mouth--a speech you had rehearsed over and over again in the slim chance that you would win. And here you are.

But the more you spoke the more you seemed to deviate from the script.

You paused, voice catching as you tried your best not to let the tears fall--your makeup was too pristine for smears.

"But tonight, as I accept this honor, I am reminded that while we may seek comfort in the presence of others, our truest strength comes from within." Your eyes dart around the audience, clinging to the slim chance he's there, that he showed up. "It comes from knowing that when we step into the moment, we step in with conviction, with passion, and sometimes, with a singularity that says we are enough."

The final words of your speech hang in the air, a brittle hope that disappears as quickly as it surfaced. He proved them right, and no amount of applause can drown out the sound of your heart breaking just a little.

part 2

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179

[astraystayyh]

An eye for an eye.

assassin!hyunjin x journalist!yn. slow burn. suggestive and angsty at times. she/her pronouns. 7.4k.

it is perhaps the most decisive night of your life. what are the odds that at the same time and place, it happens to be hyunjin’s too?

warnings: mention of alcohol, guns, bruises and injuries. brief talks of grief.

a.n: this is prompted by how hot villain hyunjin looks in the ate era 😭 it was supposed to be a drabble and i didn’t plan on it to be this long.. but i hope you’ll enjoy reading tehee it’s different from anything i’ve ever written so please feedback would be so appreciated,, muah muah 😘❣️

A ruby red lipstick. 

Your first childhood dream was to become a journalist, but not the complacent, obedient kind. You wanted to shed light on uncovered events, dig into the raw truth with your claws, and hold it up for the entire world to witness. You craved justice. You never believed in letting things flow their way, like a current that morphs into a torrent, destroying everything in its path.

No, you were a dam, forcing the water to change its trajectory. After all, you have always believed that all it took for change to happen was a trigger, a single flicker that would in turn burst into flames.

You wished to be it.

It was hard to grow into this specific kind of journalist, though. Not because you lacked drive, passion, or discipline. Especially not because you weren’t curious enough, brave enough. You were Seoul Press’s youngest and brightest reporter, after all.

But in a highly competitive field, you still needed your big story, your breakthrough which would put you on the radar of esteemed awards that all journalists venerate. Though you deemed it much easier to obtain a Pulitzer than to squelch your heart’s quest for truth, justice, and most importantly, in an unpredictable curb that life threw at you— revenge.

Your second childhood dream was to put on ruby red lipstick. Your thirteen-year-old self deemed it the ultimate show of power and confidence, each time you saw your aunt wearing one to her most important meetings. You dreamed of the day you could put it on as well, on your way to uncover the truth. 

And tonight, as you applied your ruby lipstick precisely, gliding the vibrant color across your lips, you felt nerves tighten like thorny vines in your stomach, puncturing your tender skin and leaving you a bloodied mess from within. 

Tonight, in your black gown and your ruby lipstick, in San Heo’s mansion, your country’s most prominent presidential candidate, and the man who ruined your life, it seemed like you were about to achieve both dreams at once.

… 

The clock hand points nine on Hyunjin’s Tank Louis Cartier watch. He throws a fleeting glance at the Victorian watch, before eyeing the people mingling at San Heo’s party. 

He knows all of the guests, memorized their faces and their habits. He knows the school where they drop off their kids and what bar they frequent every Sunday. He memorized their mannerisms and antics, knows what set them off and what did not.

This is the fruit of two years of work, after all.

He knows exactly why everyone is here, tonight particularly. Three politicians’ families and friends gathered as a show of power, to prove that they weren’t afraid of whoever’s been forcing politicians to come clean about their crimes for the past three months.

In the least glamorous manner, at that too, to put it delicately—ten bloodied tapes sent to the country’s most prominent media channels, where ministers and heads of multinationals are bound by ropes to a chair, recalling their most heinous crimes: money laundering and embezzlement for most, theft and murder for some.

The latter is Jung Cho’s case, San’s most successful competitor for the presidency, who has also mysteriously vanished from the police’s grasp since the release of his tape. No one can get a hold of poor Jung Cho anymore. 

Hyunjin smirks lightly to himself. His knuckles seem to have healed well since he last dislocated Jung Cho’s jaw. Well, that was before he shot him through the roof of his mouth.

The golden cuffs of Hyunjin’s Versace blazer reflect the light of the dangling crystal chandeliers, and he runs a weary hand through his black locks. He never chose to gel them back; he wasn’t one for structure, preferring the feeling of his silky strands brushing against his fingers. 

His eyes catch those of San’s across the room, who tips his glass of whiskey towards Hyunjin—a job well done, he reads in San’s stare. Hyunjin raises his red wine back, before settling it across the table once more.

It is a boring half an hour that awaits Hyunjin.

That is until he sees you.

You weren’t here two minutes ago, Hyunjin is sure of this. And, judging by the way you are leisurely sipping your sparkling water, your eyes gliding across the room in search of someone in particular, you had just stepped foot into the party.

Fashionably late, if he were to add.

But that is none of Hyunjin’s concern. What intrigues him the most is that your face isn’t familiar to him. That isn’t normal.

You weren’t supposed to be here, then.

Who are you?

As if hearing his question, your gaze locks onto his. He cocks an eyebrow at you; you mirror the gesture like clockwork.

Thus ensues an intense game of eye contact. You don’t break away from his gaze until two minutes later, a light scoff escaping your lips that he can discern even from afar. You then turn to look at San, your eyes morphing into something fiercer, more determined— a sniper finally locking eyes on its target.

Hyunjin feels a slight headache growing at the base of his temple. He downs his drink, before taking long strides towards you.

It’s official, you’re going to be his nuisance for the night.

27 minutes.

“Care to dance?” Hyunjin inquires as he materializes before you, a hand extended towards your body.

“Pardon?”

“A dance? To the lovely music we are hearing right now?” 

“I know what you mean,” you roll your eyes, leaning your body against the chair right next to you. Hyunjin’s eyes glaze over your legs peeking through the high slit of your dress. Had it been another setting, the sight of your black sheer tights would have made this night turn much differently.

Your voice dispels his thoughts like morning fog. “I mean why are you asking me?”

“Because I’m bored.”

“How flattering,” you grin sarcastically and Hyunjin feels the smallest urge to return your smile, although he knows it isn’t genuine.

“I know. Shall we?”

Your gaze flees to San once again, seemingly debating something in your head before finally sighing.

In the few seconds of scrutiny you consecrate to his boss, Hyunjin’s gaze lingers on your bright red lipstick, and the way you tuck your lip slightly into your mouth as you ponder.

A beautiful nuisance, he corrects himself.

“Fine,” You place your manicured hand in his in response.

“What’s your name?” he asks, as he settles one hand atop your waist. The fabric of your black dress is too thin, he can feel the heat emanating from your body seeping through his palm.

Focus. You need to discover who she is.

“Julia,” your hand settles atop his shoulder, while the other entwines with his. “And you?”

“Sam. What are you doing here?” he quickly inquires.

You shake your head slightly, gliding your hand from the base of his neck to the end of his shoulder.

“Isn’t it my turn to ask you a question?”

Hyunjin tilts his head curiously at you, before smirking slightly— “Yes ma’am.”

“What do you work for?”

“I’m Mr. Heo’s political adviser.”

“You’re quite young, though,” you note.

“I know.”

“And I don’t see you by his side a lot.”

“I work in the background, mostly. I don’t do well with the cameras.” He spins you around, picking up speed as the orchestra picks up the violin. “How do you know Mr. Heo?”

“I’m Kang’s niece, you know, Mr. Heo’s economic adviser? Uncle Kang is ill, and my father is out of the country so both of them chose not to come.”

Hyunjin’s memory faintly brushes off Kang’s single niece, completing her architectural studies in Paris’ Sorbonne. 

“C’est beau à Paris?” Is it beautiful in Paris?

You don’t even blink— “M��me magnifique, tu devrais visiter.” Marvelous even, you should visit. 

Checks out.

“I’ll hold you on to that offer,” he says, before spinning you around, your chest settling across his back. Hyunjin ignores how his heart skips a singular beat at your proximity.

“So, what are you doing here?” he asks, his lips tantalizingly close to the shell of your ear. He watches as your chest rises once before your airy voice floods his ear.

“Networking, though you didn’t quite allow me to speak to anyone but you,” you tease slightly.

“I fail to see what an architect has to do with politicians,” he muses, as he sways you gently from left to right.

“I want to oversee the building of Jamsil Sports Complex.”

“So you’re using your father for work connections?” he taunts and you swivel around, placing both your hands on his shoulders before interlinking your fingers behind his neck, caging him within the notes of your perfume.

“Is it a crime?” your voice is airy, too airy, everything you say sounds rehearsed, you don’t seem intimidated by him, by this setting, as opposed to how a newly graduated student, one who grew up away from her father’s world should.

“Depends on your definition,” he counters.

“Do you regard it as such?”

Hyunjin’s gaze flickers all over yours. He senses something urgent in your gaze, as if you are pushing for more, beyond what this simple question entails.

When he remains quiet for a tad too long, you let your hands drop by your body, taking a step away from him.

“I need to go,” you say. He grabs your wrist instantly. “Where to?”

“Bathroom.” And with that, you quickly turn around and walk away, leaving behind notes of your floral perfume and ghosts of your ruby lips.

Hyunjin steals a glance at his clock. 09:13 p.m.

He drags a hand across his forehead wearily. He won’t let you ruin this night.

17 minutes. 

You are washing your hands obsessively in the bathroom, lost in thought as you gaze at your reflection, all blurry from your unfocused eyes. You only turn off the water once your skin starts to sting from the force of your touch. 

The orange-scented soap doesn’t seem to get rid of the stench of blood. 

A week ago. 

“I don't understand your obsession with Mr. Heo,” Christopher Bang calmly removed his glasses, placing them next to the shiny placate reading ‘Editor in Chief of Seoul Press’.

“He is corrupt.”

“As all politicians are,” he spoke matter of factly, and it angered you how unfazed he seemed before your, you admit, far-fetched request. 

“You don’t understand, sir. He’s different.”

“Did he do something to you?” Chris asked, leaning back against his chair. You felt exposed all of a sudden, like a flower left bare without its stem. 

“Would my answer change anything?” You inquired tentatively. 

“It would explain many things, yes actually,” he got up from his chair, before sitting on the one right across from you. “You are a talented journalist, Yn.”

“Thank you—“

“But you are utilizing the company’s resources to conduct your personal investigation on San Heo.” 

He knew. 

“You’ve been working on his case from the day you joined our media. Which was exactly 389 days ago. I know that you’ve managed to uncover quite some dirt, one that would make an explosive case if you get more information. That’s why I turned a blind eye to everything you did because I trust your skills and integrity.” 

You remained silent.

“But now, you’re asking me to completely disregard my deontology by finding a way for you to break into Mr. Heo’s mansion. That is a crime.”

“Not break in. I want an invite to his party, it is the first time he organized one in his home, probably the last time, it is my only chance to—”

“Details,” he waves a hand disinterestedly in the air, cutting you off. “Your intentions aren’t to mingle with politicians, it is to dig in his office and find something of substance. While I admire the lengths of what you want to go through, I must stop you here.” He leveled his eyes with yours. “This can land you in jail, he is the most important man in our country right now.”

“What if I tell you he did something to me, that he ruined my life? Would you help me then?” your voice was hoarse, tears pricked your eyes as you tried your best not to avert your gaze. You hated displays of weakness, despised them even more in professional settings. 

“What did he do?” 

You bristled at the question, ugly memories flashing before your eyes like a blinding light, your body begging you to flee away from this question and the heavy response it entailed.

Still, you spoke. 

Christopher remained silent as you recalled what happened on your doomsday, the night in which your world ceased to spin, and simultaneously, the reason why you joined his company, to begin with. When your sniffles subsided a few minutes later, he gently handed you a napkin, a silent invitation to wipe away the tears that had escaped.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his weary face before finally speaking. 

“I’ll give you the invite tomorrow. Say that you are Kang’s niece, her name is Julia. She went to Paris for architectural studies, and that you are back for a vacation. Kang is ill these days, he won’t attend the party, and his brother is out of the country, no one will question you.”

“How do you know this?” 

“Because I know them,” he toyed with his lower lip lightly before a tiny smile drew upon it. “An eye for an eye, right? I’m Kang’s cousin. I changed my last name because I didn’t wish to deal with them anymore.” 

“So Bhang isn’t your real last name?”

“No.” He ran his thumb across his lower lip, seemingly debating adding something. “San’s office is on the far end of the third floor.” 

You heaved a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t get yourself killed.”

13 minutes. 

It was one thing to stare at photographs of San seared behind your reddened eyelids or to stand at the far end of his press conferences. It was another to step foot into his mansion, to stand amidst powerful people who are capable of ruining your life had they known of your motives. 

But you didn’t have time to dwell on your personal feelings. Fear, nerves, all of those feeble emotions pale before the chance you have today. So, you nod at your reflection in the mirror, count to three in your head, and finally head out of the bathroom. 

“Five minutes, were you crying?” Sam’s bored voice startles you as soon as you set foot outside. He’s leaning on the wall across from the door, hands deep into the pockets of his suit.

Not again. 

“I know that I’m very pretty but don’t you have better things to do than to follow me?” you ask, pausing right in front of him. 

“I’m not following you, I just happen to be particularly fond of the architecture of this corridor,” he jokes and you ignore his words, walking past him with a renowned determination. He pushes himself off the wall, only to grasp your wrist once again, spinning you around until you’re facing him. 

He chuckles softly, tilting his head to the side. His icy blue contacts pierce through your skin like a puncture needle.  “You know, I’m curious, Julia. You seemed very eager to get away from me.”

You take a step forward, closing the distance between you two. “Have you considered that I found your company utterly boring?”

“You wound me,” he places a hand on his heart, any trace of humor absent from his voice. His grip tightens on your wrist for a millisecond. A warning. “I need you to leave.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“I’m serious. You shouldn’t be here tonight.”

“And why should I listen to you?” you challenge and his eyes darken further. 

“I can’t tell you.”

“Then let me go,” you mutter, slipping your hand away from his grasp. 

“Julia,” he says sternly, pulling you back till your back is against the wall, his hands rooted on either side of your body. 

It is a dimly lit hallway, and the sound of the orchestra barely reaches you. Your worry intermingles with a new kind of nerves, all orchestrated by his proximity, and the way his gaze brushes against your body like a skilled painter. 

“I’m not joking, leave.” His voice is much softer when he adds, “It’s for your own good. What will happen later doesn’t concern you.”

He knows something that you don’t know, something that, from his tone, none of the guests are aware of. You see something human in his eyes, in the slight crease doting his eyebrows. He seems genuinely worried for the innocent civilian he thinks you are. 

Your eyes turn to look at his hand near your head, only to notice his faintly bruised knuckles, shades of purple and green doting a delicate porcelain skin. They have healed well, then. 

Should you unearth the memory from two weeks ago— pleas for mercy, a deafening gunshot, and an excruciating silence afterward, the quiet after the murder that you remember most? 

Then, another scene rings in your head like bells of an ancient church— a bruised hand brushing against your own in an art gallery from two days ago, raven locks, and familiar, melancholy-tinted eyes. 

Could it be? 

Your voice turns sweet, tender, “should I trust you for the night?” your thumb brushes against the skin underneath his eye, wiping away the concealer you knew you spotted.

There it is, the eye mole you thought he covered. 

It clicks in your mind in an instant, pieces of a puzzle falling into place, there are still a few missing but you manage to grasp the bigger picture.

If he’s not letting you go then he could be of good use. 

What other choice do you have but to gamble with a killer? 

Your sharp nails drag across the nape of his neck, before settling right beneath his jaw. You mimic a gun, his eyes narrow in response.

“Is this how you killed Jung Cho, Hyunjin?” 

You feel a cold barrel instantly press against your stomach. “Police officer?” he asks. 

“No.”

“Journalist ?”

“Yes,” you slowly mutter.

“What’s your name?”

“I don’t wish to tell you.” The gun only presses further onto your skin. You feel a cold bead of sweat roll down your exposed spine. 

Breathe. 

“It’s Yn.”

“What do you know?”

“It’d be easier for me to talk if you removed the gun,” you smile lightly and Hyunjin only leans further, a distance as thin as a blade between you both.

“Speak.”

“You killed the only candidate that stood a chance in front of San. You drove him to the empty deposit near Inwangsan Mountain, tortured him for three days, filmed his confessions, and then sent them to many media outlets. Ours included. I know it because I followed you.” 

“Why did you follow me?” he questions. Your eyes flee to the end of the corridor where an impossible staircase sits. You are wasting your time. 

“Because I am investigating San. And through following him I ended up getting to know you. You are different from everyone he meets. Very secretive. So I figured it’d be worth a shot following you too,” you explain as calmly as you can. You’re sure the barrel of the gun will leave a bruise on your skin. 

“And why didn’t you write a piece about me? Everyone is dying to know who I am.”

“I have, I just haven’t released it. If I don’t come back home in an hour my head chef will post the video of you murdering Mr. Cho on every SNS. The public loves you for what you’re doing. But the politicians will come together to kill you. They have a price on your head. You are threatening everything they ever built.” 

Hyunjin drags his gun up your stomach slowly, trails it across your collarbones before it settles on your jaw. 

“I could kill you too, right now.” His tone is cold, evil. Very different from the man who asked you to dance. You know that I can.” 

“My death would only sign yours.”

Hyunjin’s forehead rests on the wall right next to your head. You can hear him inhale deeply, hear the gears turning in his head. “Fuck, you are driving me crazy.”

He drops the gun and takes a step back. “Why didn’t you expose me?”

“You are not the one that matters to me.” 

“What do you want from me then?” 

“Three minutes. Open San’s office, and then I’ll go. No one will ever know of your identity.” 

He remains silent. 

“Hyunjin, please.” 

“Fuck, fine. But whatever happens next you’ll have to trust me, okay?” his hands settle on your shoulder, his eyes leveling with yours, “if you’re not leaving then you’ll have to trust me enough, for tonight.” 

8 minutes. 

“After you,” Hyunjin bows slightly as he opens the door to Heo’s office. You step in first, and he steals a quick glance behind him—no one’s here, for now.

“That saved me the hassle of breaking the door.”

“You know how to do that?” he asks, slightly impressed.

“One of my hobbies,” you shrug before walking directly to the desk. Hyunjin leans against the wall, watching as you lift your dress slightly, revealing a small packet tucked into your garter. The sight drives Hyunjin a little crazy, and he closes his eyes for a second.

He really, really wishes he hadn’t met you here tonight.

You take out a listening device, tapping the bottom of the desk until you find a suitable spot, and then you stick it in place.

“Another one of your hobbies?” he smirks.

You giggle. “Mm, aren’t I the most fun?”

“You are,” his eyes drag across your figure, and he notices a slight falter in your posture, “the most beautiful too.”

You blink, and he’s suddenly in front of you, trapping you between the auburn desk and his toned body. You don’t seem intimidated, placing a palm on his chest as you tilt your head to the side. 

“Aren’t you curious why I’m going after San?”

“No, he angers a lot of people.” His thumb caresses your cheek, a touch so soft in contrast to his next words. “A lot of people fantasize about his death.”

“Are you one of them?” you question, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Right now, all I’m fantasizing about is you.” His voice is husky, and he finds it comes out much easier when he actually likes the person he’s attempting to seduce. 

It takes you a few seconds to speak again. “Is that so?”

“Mm, let’s dance.”

“Didn’t we dance downstairs?”

“That was Sam and Julia dancing,” he says as he entwines his fingers with yours. “You see, Hyunjin is a different kind of dancer.” His hand presses against your back, snaking against your bare skin. “Can I pull you closer?” he asks, and you simply nod, eyes fleeting widely all over his face. 

His chest presses to yours, so close he’s sure your hearts are syncing with one another, his inhales alternating with your exhales. 

“Yn,” he whispers your name, as you look up at him through the curve of your eyelashes.  

“Yes, Hyunjin?” His name sounds soft as it stumbles from your ruby lips, innocent from all the blood that drenches his soul.

“I like the way you say my name.” He glances at his watch above your head. 9:57.

“Hyunjin,” you repeat, as your hand drags up his neck, grabbing a fistful of his hair and gently dragging it backward, exposing his enticing neck to you. “You are always looking at your watch, what are you waiting for?”

He chuckles faintly, grabbing both your hands and spinning you around till his chin rests on the small of your shoulder. “You’re perceptive,” he mutters, as his fingers drag down your bare arms. “But so am I,” he says coldly as he grabs both your hands, bringing them behind your back. “Look, your hands are shaking just from my proximity. I don’t think you have it in you to film me killing Jung Cho. I don’t think you have it in you to watch me torture someone for three days.”

Click. Cold metal wraps around your wrist in an instant, handcuffing you to the leg of the table before which you’re standing. 

“I think you lied to me, Yn. I don’t like being lied to.”

“What are you doing?” you ask disoriented, panic spilling from your being like an overflowing cup.

Hyunjin pays you no mind, taking out his phone and dialing a number. “Boss, we have a problem. I caught a journalist trying to get into your room,” he taps his chin slowly as he looks at you. “No, no need for security. Just come alone. Don’t alarm the guests.”

2 minutes

“Are you serious?” you ask as soon as he hangs up, a prominent lump in your throat. “You told me to trust you.”

“Did I say I was worth that trust?” he pouts, seemingly mocking the vulnerable ordeal you found yourself in. 

A loud chuckle escapes your lips, your head thrown back as if before a hilarious spectacle of sorts. Hyunjin frowns, crossing his arms in front of his chest as your giggles slowly quiet down. 

“You’re a peculiar person, aren’t you Hyunjin? You need to hide your identity but you crave normalcy still, so you open your art gallery. You go to crazy lengths to cover your moles and wear contacts because you wish for people to look at you with admiration in their eyes, kindness. But you don’t deserve it.” There is a fire lit in your eyes, flames latching into his black suit and burning his already scarred skin. “You’ll always be as evil as them.” 

Hyunjin doesn’t respond for a while, his eyes simply softening at your words.

“I know,” he whispers. 

“Who’s this?” San’s voice booms loudly as he sets foot into the office. Hyunjin’s eyes break apart from your figure to look at San, bowing slightly to greet him. 

“Julia, she infiltrated the party,” Hyunjin explains, stealthily locking the door behind San. “She’s been investigating you for quite some time now. And… She knows about the murders.”

“Mm, she’s clever. Should we hire her?” San jokes and Hyunjin smiles politely, dragging his eyes over your face. You simply roll your eyes, seemingly more bored than scared. 

Cute. 

“Anyways,” Heo stares at you for a fleeting second before tapping Hyunjin’s shoulder. “She looks easy to kill. Just get rid of her. But don’t stain my carpet though, it's expensive.”

“Sure thing,” Hyunjin nods, taking out his gun and pointing it at your temple. He steals a final look at his watch— 9:30 p.m. he reads. 

Time’s up. 

“You didn’t think I’d let you go?” Hyunjin mocks, cocking his head at you. In a split second, a bullet ricochets loudly, but not at you. It grazes San’s ear, making him pause near the door, his back towards you both. 

“Right boss?” Hyunjin’s tone is slightly whiny, annoying is the best way to describe it. You can hear police sirens blare loudly outside, see the red and blue hues reflect off the window. Loud shouts erupt downstairs, Hyunjin leisurely reloads his gun, one hand deep into his pocket, San’s posture slightly falters, his fingers digging into the skin of his palm. 

“Do you hear that Heo? Your mansion is surrounded. All your filthy dirt is exposed. The police officers are arresting everyone downstairs right now. And they’re coming for you. The man of the hour.” Hyunjin makes a show of curtsying deeply. You stifle a giggle at his theatrics.

“You dare turn your back on me?” San yells, pivoting around to face Hyunjin’s barrel, the latter simply yawns as if it’s a regular Saturday activity for him. 

“Oh, don’t get emotional on me,” Hyunjin pouts, before his eyes narrow down coldly. “Now kneel. Let’s end this without staining your carpet.”

You see San slowly lowering himself to the ground, Hyunjin’s gaze sets on you for a millisecond, his pupils dilated in apology, in concern, you don’t know, you don't get to decipher his look because San is taking out his gun from his back pocket, aiming it at Hyunjin. “Watch out”— is all you manage to shout, and hyunjin ducks in an instant, propelled by the sound of your voice to the ground.

He could have died, he could have died because he looked at you. 

It all happens so fast, Hyunjin diving into San to take away his gun, both their weapons flinging into the air, San punching Hyunjin’s mouth and the latter retaliating by flinging his fist up against his nose. You’re struggling with your restraints, trying to reach out for the lone gun that fell to your right. 

A bit more, tune out the sirens, tune out the punches, slowly, only a few centimeters left, your wrist is on fire but that is the least of your concern, almost, there, you grab it.

You fire the gun.

It’s quiet once again, for the first time in two years, it is quiet in your head.

It’s over. 

You close your eyes, tilting your head back into the desk. The sound of your mother’s laughter floods your ears, her airy giggles as she brushes your hair and tucks you into her chest, her being a vision of beauty underneath the sun’s caress. 

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin kneels before you, wiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks with his bruised knuckles. He is worried, even behind those icy blue contacts, you can still grasp his worry.

You nod, swallowing the sob that is lodged within your throat. Hyunjin is quick to unlock your handcuffs, entwining your fingers with his as he pulls you off the ground. 

You slightly push him aside, your eyes set on San’s bleeding figure. He’s still alive, rugged breaths escaping his chest, his palm pressed to the bullet that punctuated his stomach. 

“I want him dead,” you mutter, grabbing Hyunjin’s forearm to support yourself, “but I want him to rot in prison too.” 

“He will, for all his crimes. I have it all documented. The police have it too,” his palm rubs soothingly against your back, you lean further into his touch.

“He’s a monster.” 

“I know. They all are. That’s why I killed them,” he simply says, before guiding you back to a couch on the right of the office. He shrugs off his suit, draping it over your trembling shoulders. 

“Give me a minute.”

You watch as he grabs the gun you fired off of the ground, before taking a handkerchief out of his pocket. He wipes your fingerprints, making sure to leave his all over the gun. He then walks to the table, taking away your listening device and crushing it to the ground.

He’s calm and collected as he rearranges the scene to his liking, it looks like he has done this a million times before, as if this is the element in which he thrives— a sunflower turning to face the sun, at long last. 

He kneels before your freezing figure one last time, tilting your chin to the side so you’d look at him.

“I fired the gun. You had no idea any of this would happen, you’re just an ambitious journalist who wanted an insider scoop.” He senses you’re somewhere far, pulled by the ropes of memories that had long haunted your dreams. His warm palm presses to your cold cheek, your eyes are glossy as they rest on him. 

“You didn’t do anything. I’m the one who used you as a scapegoat to bring San up here, just like I agreed with the police. Alright? You did nothing.You know nothing.” 

“Alright.”

Hours pass in a cold blur, the weight of time lost on you as three police officers take turns questioning you. You repeat the lines Hyunjin taught you, your voice flat, devoid of emotion. Even as you step out of the police station, with Hyunjin's hand resting gently on your back, you feel nothing. A slight tremor runs through you when he mentions that San survived and will be transferred to prison once he's healed.

You don’t know why you’re disappointed you didn’t become a killer.

You don’t know anything, don’t feel anything as Hyunjin drives you home. You don’t question how he knows your address or the code to your elevator. It’s only when you unlock your door and he starts to pull away that reality snaps back.

Without thinking, you grab his wrist, suddenly aware of the loneliness that awaits you inside, an uninvited guest preying on your vulnerable heart.

“Would you like some tea?” you ask, your voice tinged with hopelessness, knowing just how silly you sound. Why would he stay? He has so many loose ends to thread after his finishing blow, you know he’s part of something far larger than you. 

As if mocking your question, his phone buzzes for the tenth time in the span of five minutes.

But then, to your surprise, he turns it off.

“Yeah,” he says with a soft smile, “I’d like some tea.”

As you bring the water to a boil, Hyunjin rolls up the sleeves of his white shirt, casually wandering around your apartment as if it’s not his first time setting foot in here. He’s always at ease— with a gun pointed at him or while looking at the souvenir magnets on your fridge. 

His calmness helps instill some peace in your heart too. 

“I like your apartment,” he says, accepting the cup of chamomile you hand him. “It’s cozy, feels like a home.”

“Thank you,” you whisper as you sink into the couch, your head hung low. So much has happened in just half an hour, too much for you to fully comprehend and process.

“Let me see,” he says a few sips later, as he gently removes the cup from your clutch, before sliding his thumb across your right wrist. The bruises have already begun to form, the red marks from the handcuffs clear evidence of your struggle to reach the gun.

“I’m sorry I involved you in this,” he murmurs, frowning as he avoids your gaze, staring intently at your wrist as if he could will the blue hues away. “I didn’t plan for you to be at the party.”

“I involved myself,” you chuckle softly. You’re not one for physical touch, but you don’t feel the usual urge to pull away from his grasp. His hands are warm, the roughness of his fingertips a stark contrast to the softness of your skin.

“You’re a stubborn journalist,” he says with a small smile, finally meeting your gaze. you suddenly yearn to look into the rich brown of his eyes once more. Was its shade as deep as you remember?

“And you’re an excellent painter,” you retort, eliciting a surprised laugh from him. The sound is unexpectedly endearing, and you’re caught in a whirlwind of contradictions. Is this really the same man you saw taking a life? The same man now holding your wrist as if it were made of porcelain?

“Right, you figured out my identity. What gave me away?” he asks, still smiling.

“I heard about this new gallery where the artist’s only clue to his identity was the name signed on his paintings. So, I decided to see for myself. While everyone else was captivated by the artwork, I noticed you, standing in the corner, observing the reactions of everyone around. You smiled when someone smiled, and your grin grew wider with each compliment. That’s when I started to suspect that the artist was you, all along.”

“I remember it now. I bumped into you as you were leaving,” he says, and you nod.

“What stood out to me were your sad eyes. That’s what I remember most. Well, besides your bruised knuckles.”

“And that’s how you connected the dots.”

“Yes, and your eye mole, too. Even though you tried to conceal it with makeup, it still showed.”

“Very perceptive,” he says with a grin.

“Thank you.”

“Aren’t you worried I’ll expose your identity?” you ask, as his hand gently slides into yours, his fingers resting lightly on top of yours. A simple, innocent touch, yet it stirs something unknown in the pits of your stomach. 

“I trusted you when you said I’m not the one who matters to you.”

“Why would you trust me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I miss putting my faith in someone, even if they end up failing me. Isn’t that the most human trait of all?”

How could an assassin create such heartfelt paintings, overflowing with emotions too hard to explain with words, let alone colors? Perhaps because this isn’t the life he always wanted.

“Did you choose this?” you ask softly, your voice barely a whisper. Maybe it’s the exhaustion from the interrogation, or the near brush with death, or perhaps the relief that this chapter is finally closing for both of you. But something compels you to keep talking, to ask, to hold on to Hyunjin just a little longer.

“Being a killer, you mean?” His voice carries a tenderness that seems at odds with the weight of his words. He’s a walking contradiction, balancing two identities within himself—Hyunjin and Sam. One feels heavier on his bones than the other. 

“I grew up in this world,” he continues. “My parents run a large network of assassins—or vigilantes, depending on how you see it. Some people hire us, and sometimes we act on our own when we see injustice or corruption festering for too long. We conduct thorough background checks. We only kill those who truly deserve it. We always make sure of that.”

“An eye for an eye.”

He nods, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I always feel good in the midst of a case. One less evil in the world. But after, there’s just this emptiness. Now what? I always wonder. So I try to fill the void with painting.”

“Now what…” you repeat, your voice trembling as a lump forms in your throat. “Now what? What should I do now?” Tears well up and spill over suddenly, streaming down your face in an unstoppable torrent. “San is behind bars, but my mom isn’t coming back. So what now? What was all of this for if I can’t get her back?”

You find yourself burying your head in the crook of Hyunjin’s neck, his arms wrapping tightly around you, holding you close as if he could contain your sadness, preventing it from seeping from your soul and reaching your mother, wherever she may be.

You haven’t allowed anyone to hold you like this in two years, denying yourself any comfort until you could bring your mother’s killer to justice. It was a promise you made to yourself after San drunkenly ran her over and fled the scene, leaving you alone to hug her cold body in that sterile hospital room.

“It drove me crazy,” you sob, your words broken and incoherent. “He bribed everyone—the doctors, the paramedics, the stores nearby. Everyone acted like my mom didn’t d-die because of h-him,” you hiccup, and Hyunjin only holds you tighter, closer, enough to stitch your wounds with time, only if he remains this close to you. If he wishes to, if you allow him to.

“But now he’s behind bars, and I still don’t have my mom. What do I do now that I can’t bury myself in revenge? Hyunjin, what should I do when I miss her so much and I can’t see her?”

Five hours later.

“The article is perfect, no corrections needed,” Chris says, removing his glasses and looking at you with approval. “Excellent work, Yn.” 

“Thank you,” you nod, feeling a mix of relief, but mostly exhaustion. “I stayed up all night working on it.” 

“Goid, it’s only 6 a.m. so we know that no other media outlet has touched this yet. Our article will be the one to shape public opinion. This is a big win for us. It’s a thorough investigation, and I’m confident you’ll get the recognition you deserve,” he writes something down onto his notebook before looking at you once more. “Take a few days off—you’ve earned it. I’ll reach out if anything urgent comes up.”

“Thank you, sir.” You bow slightly before turning to leave the suffocating office. Or maybe it’s your own mind that’s suffocating you. You don’t have time to dwell on the question before Chris speaks again. 

“Oh, Yn?” Chris calls out just as your hand touches the doorknob. “One last thing, did you ever figure out who was behind all those tapes?”

Your grip on the doorknob tightens imperceptibly. “No sir, no clue.” 

One month later. 

It’s a few minutes before the art gallery closes when you walk in. Hyunjin spots you before you see him, your distinctive walk etched in his memory as vividly as if it were only yesterday that he had seen it.

He approaches quietly, stopping behind you as you gaze at the newest addition to his collection.

“Is this us?” you ask, not turning around. Hyunjin’s eyes follow yours to the abstract painting of a couple waltzing in a ballroom, their hands intertwined just like yours were, four Saturdays ago.

“Yes,” he replies softly.

“It seems I left an everlasting impression on you,” you tease, he can hear the smile in your voice without seeing it. 

“You did. You looked beautiful.”

“So did you.”

“I’m glad you came,” he says sincerely. “I missed you.”

“But we only spent a day together,” you giggle quietly, and Hyunjin wishes he could capture your laugh and tuck it away in the veins of his heart.

“Didn’t that day feel like a year, though?” he muses, resting his chin gently on your shoulder. You lean back into him, closing the space between you.

“It did,” you admit before nervously clearing your throat. “Are you free right now? We could grab a drink, if you’d like?”

“Chamomile tea?” he chuckles, and your laughter vibrates through his being.

“No, something stronger this time.”

He hums, hesitating as he despises the words that would stumble out of his mouth. “I have some things to handle tonight. Urgent matters.”

“Ah,” your voice dips slightly, the disappointment clear in your tone. “Well, it’s okay. I’ll see you another time, then,” you say, finally turning to face him. 

He really missed you. 

“Okay. I’ll see you.”

“Okay.”

“Congratulations on your award, by the way,” he says, watching your expression soften, a delicate smile forming on your lips.

“You saw it?”

“I did. I read your piece, too. I’m sure your mom would be proud of you.”

Tears of gratitude well up in your eyes, and you squeeze Hyunjin’s hand tightly as you whisper, “Thank you. Really. Thank you, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin’s words linger in your soul, echoing through your mind for the rest of your day, his voice the only sound that seems to fill the silence within you. That is until three loud knocks resonate through your apartment, just minutes before midnight. 

You open the door to find Hyunjin standing there, a fresh bruise marring his jaw, his knuckles freshly scraped and bloodied.

“Let me guess, you had nowhere else to go?” you joke, trying to regain your composure at the sight of him once more.

“No,” he replies, his tone earnest, “I wanted to come to you.”

Your smile falters at the sincerity in his voice. You can’t quite place what it is about Hyunjin that pulls you toward him, how amidst everything that’s happened in the past month, the most vivid memory is how he held you gently as you cried and cried.

“I forgot something,” he says, pulling a tube of cooling cream from his back pocket and offering it to you. “I meant to give this to you for your bruised wrists.”

He’s a month late, you both know your wrists have long since healed.

“I… yeah,” he sighs before your silence, turning to leave, a light blush tinting his cheeks. But before he can, you drop the tube and grab his hand, spinning him back around.

“I forgot something too,” you say quickly before pressing your lips against his.

You don’t fully understand what draws you to Hyunjin, but you know his lips taste as sweet as cherry chapstick, that his hand around your waist feels like water flowing gently over your skin, warm and encompassing. That his brown eyes remind you of sunlight dancing on autumn leaves, that no one has touched your soul as deeply as he has.

You know you wish to make him feel as human as he makes you.

[aayakashii]

Gaahh I'm so sorry this took so long despite it being only 2k words 😣 I am not satisfied with it at all, but I need to publish otherwise I'll never do it 💀 I do hope it's not that bad though.

Anyway, here it is @rottenzombrainz 🫶 I am sorry it took me so long!

Warning: Yandere!Jiro has absolutely no sense of personal space and boundaries

rubies and black holes

You were having pleasant dreams for a change. It wasn't anything specific – just a mess of bright colors and a fluttering feeling of comfort that made your sleep peaceful for once.

It was the kind of sweet nonsense that lulled you into a deeper slumber; not the unnerving one that made your sleep shallow and restless.

The pastel hues floated languidly like jellyfish underwater, and a soothing white noise, like the hum of an old air conditioner, vibrated inside your ears.

Everything was tranquil and you felt like nothing could ever rip that dream apart, at least not that night.

And that was true, until a bleeding black pit forcefully yanked you out of your comfort, as it suddenly made itself known in the midst of all those colors.

You couldn't ignore it, once you were aware of its presence. It was always in your line of sight, no matter how much you tried to evade it. Always lingering, haunting your peripheral vision, as if it followed your every move; yet, when you turned to face it, it just pierced you with its hypnotizing gaze – unmoving.

And what a mistake it was to face it.

You could feel your body react to it, as though you were approaching the tethering line that kept you from danger: your heart picked up its pace and your breathing got shallower.

The hole looked endless and void of life. You couldn't tell if it was made of darkness or if darkness was made of it; it was just an open gash in what was once a tranquil place – a gaping wound you could not tend to. And despite its lifelessness, you felt like it watched you. It tracked your every movement, your breathing, your heart, your eyes.

“You stare at the abyss and the abyss stares back at you”, you remembered someone had said once, only it felt quite literal in your case.

You couldn't escape its stare. It pinned you down, like a deer caught in headlights. You couldn't run, nor stay and your brain finally refused to keep up with the eldritch-esque conflict stirring inside your mind.

With a jolt, you startled awake, breathless and with your heart thumping loud and fast. You were met by the wooden ceiling of your dorm and the cold breeze that blew from your open window.

You were safe. Your breath was shaky when you sighed loudly, hands rubbing your eyes and your face to ground yourself back into reality.

It was only after a few seconds, however, that you noticed a strange weight on your abdomen.

With eyes still closed, you went to place your hand on your stomach, wondering if a cat had made its way to your bedroom (it wouldn't be the first time. Sometimes you'd wake up with a cat curled right beside your feet or your head or on your back. For some reason, the worker cats loved you and a tiny part of you wondered if they just liked the smell of the anomaly in you taking over your blood).

You weren't expecting, however, to feel tousled hair locks on your fingertips.

You slowly looked down, finally acknowledging the pair of piercing red eyes that stared at you, unblinking, while you slept.

You gasped loudly, a scream stuck on your throat, instinctively pushing the man's head away from your body, though he barely budged – his huge frame was too heavy for you to move. Sleep still coated your senses and you could feel your brain working overdrive to process what you were seeing; who was that person who watched you so intently, so silently.

Once your mind finally recognized whatever your eyes saw, however, you sighed in relief, putting a hand over your poor racing heart.

"Jiro!" You half-yelled, exasperated, and he blinked slowly. He had laid down his head on your belly while he knelt beside your bed and you had no idea how long he had been staring at you as you slept. “What are you doing here?! I was sleeping!”

He slowly got up and sat on his heels, but kept his arms firmly draped around your midsection.

“I was watching you sleep.”

You licked your dry lips and scrunched your forehead in confusion.

“I… I can see that. Why?”

Jiro looked to the side, to where his hand touched your belly. You could feel the coldness of his translucent skin seeping through the fabric of your pajamas. The blue veins on his arms formed a map of its own.

“I don't know.” He said, after a few seconds of silence. His glowing red stare fixed upon your face once more, as if searching for something inside your mind.

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out of it. You didn't know how to answer.

“I just… had an impulse and followed through with it. I just had to see you.” He muttered, still unblinking.

“You know this is like… very creepy, right?” He finally looked away, avoiding your reprimanding gaze. Deep down he knew he was wrong, but wouldn't admit. “Right?”

Jiro hummed, teeth pulling on the dead skin of his chapped lips. You had to keep yourself from scolding him even more, as small red gashes appeared on his mouth.

“Your breathing is very short and fast.” He began, voice even and monotone as it always was whenever he was talking to his patients. “You seem to be fatigued despite your sleep. These are some of the tell-tale signs of paradoxical breathing. You might be facing some degree of diaphragm dysfunction and we should investigate it.”

You rolled your eyes at the way he purposefully ignored your comment.

“No, Jiro. I'm like this because you scared the hell out of me.”

He met your eyes and, once again, like spellwork, you felt petrified under his gaze; a black hole that sucked you inside an universe of red.

“I can't understand.” he murmured.

“What is it?” You asked, voice softening to match his tone.

His hand swiftly reached towards you as if he was going to grab your face, and you flinched at the sudden movement – your nerves were still frayed at its ends. Jiro dropped his hand back into the mattress before he could touch you.

“I don't understand why I can't get you out of my head. It's aggravating.” He wrinkled his nose almost imperceptibly in a subtle expression of discomfort. “You're constantly in my mind. Day and night. No matter what I do, I end up thinking of you. Wanting to see you. It's disrupting my activities.”

You blinked rapidly, wondering if Jiro had an inkling of the weight of his words – of what he seemed to be implying – or if he was truly clueless and acting blindly, led by his instincts. You didn't know which one seemed more dangerous.

“Jiro, I'm- I'm flattered but–”

“Maybe, subconsciously, I came here to understand.” He interrupted, as if deep in his thoughts. “To observe. To gather empirical evidence.”

He shuffled on his spot and laid his head on your torso. His mop of messy hair tickled your chin as he nuzzled into your chest, inhaling sharply.

“Jiro!” You tried to pry him away from your body to no avail.

He shuddered as he exhaled slowly, as if savoring your scent. He turned his head to look at you.

You couldn't help but swallow thickly and notice every little pore of his face from so up close. His long lashes, the dark circles under his eyes, his chapped, pale lips and the little mole on his chin. You cursed yourself for thinking he still looked beautiful while you were pinned on your bed.

He suddenly chuckled, eyes glinting with mirth.

“You look so scared.” He muttered. His soft, velvety voice vibrated on your ribcage. “Do you think I'm gonna hurt you?”

You had to contain a whimper, clenching your jaw. You were pretty sure he meant no harm to you, but he sure looked plenty intimidating at that moment. It took a staggering amount of faith on him for you to steel yourself and not struggle to run.

“No… no. No, I don't think you'd hurt me.”

He nuzzled into your neck, inhaling once again, getting dangerously close to your face. He gave out a pleased hum.

“I feel like I could do this forever. I wonder why.”

Your breath hitched on your throat.

“You… you really don't know?”

He raised his head, lips brushing against your cheek, and blinked owlishly.

“Do you?”

“... No.”

Again, you weren't sure if you had lied or not. You weren't sure if his own way of loving was crooked, or if he was merely obsessed with the idea of you. Either option left you with a pit in your gut. You weren't sure you wanted an answer any time soon.

“I don't know yet either. Some things are still out of my grasp after my coma.” He shook his head. “But I feel like I can make a breakthrough at any moment.” His hands glided from your hands to your shoulders, and he squeezed the tightened muscles. You shuddered despite yourself.

“I can make a breakthrough… especially if I'm near you.” His hands steadily moved from your shoulder to your neck. Jiro's fingers rested on the fast thump of your carotid pulses. You felt your chest tighten with the knowledge that he could press down on them and have you at his mercy in mere seconds. You tried to focus on the way his lips moved, silently counting the heartbeats.

“120 bpm. That's very high.” He said seriously after a whole minute, shuffling closer.

“You do appear to need my careful vigilance as you seem awfully distressed.” Jiro was fully oblivious to the irony of his words. “Should I just give you a check up more than once per day? Though I do wonder how I could keep an eye on you whenever you went on missions.”

His face was uncomfortably close and his eyes were locked into your parted lips. You panted, anxiety coursing through your veins and making it hard to breathe.

His breath smelled like the sterile nothingness of unflavored toothpaste and his eyes still glinted with something you couldn't recognize – probably because you had never been under the throes of obsession as he was.

“Jiro you don't … you don't have to do this. You don't have to keep me under your watch.”

His eyes widened and he tilted his head, as if suddenly inspired by your words. As soon as the flicker of satisfaction lightened his eyes, you wanted to punch yourself.

“That's a great idea, actually; to properly keep you under my watch.”

You blanched.

“It'd be great for research on your curse as well.”

“No, you really don't–”

His hands ended up cupping your cheeks, squeezing your face a bit tighter than it was comfortable, successfully silencing you. You didn't know if it was on purpose or if he was just truly unaware of his strength.

“Thank you very much for your suggestion. It seems to be the correct one. I'll find a way to keep you by my side soon.”

You widened your eyes as he calmly decided on your own future with the finality of someone who knew they could pull it off.

What would that future entail, then? A prison at Mortkranken's underground lab, with only Jiro as your warden? How could you convince him of how nonsensical and inhumane his plan sounded? How would he justify your absence to the Academy? How could he ever think he was the owner of the little freedom you had in that campus?

Jiro laid down his head on his arms, on top of your stomach again, his weight keeping you from breathing properly as he kept his ruby-like eyes still fixed on you. You could only stare, wide-eyed and breath shallow.

“You can go back to sleep.” He announced, flatly, with no intentions of leaving your side, anchored onto your body like a flag claiming a territory.

You looked to the ceiling, trying to evade the sharpness of his red irises, heart still hammering inside your ribcage as you thought of his sudden decision.

It seemed there was no way you'd have another comfortable dream ever again.

[yandere-wishes]

「✦ S n o w W h i t e ✦ 」

⋆｡‧˚ʚ Yandere! Roman Sionis x Snow White! Reader ɞ˚‧｡⋆

⋆.˚✮𝐹𝒶𝒾𝓇𝓎 𝒯𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝒜𝒰✮˚.⋆

Thinking about Yandere! Roman Sionis in a Snow White AU. Thinking about him being the evil queen/king who wants to poison poor little snow white.

✦•┈┈┈๑⋅⋯❦︎⋯⋅๑┈┈┈•✦

❦ ︎ Y a n d e re ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n whose face is permanently bound to a black mask, whose wicked soul has bled into his physical form. Forever cursed by the dark arts to bear his sins to the world. Who locks himself inside his chambers in the castle's highest tower. Paranoia gnawing at his hardened flesh, he knows the kingdom hates him, he knows they want to savor his blood upon their tongues.

❦ ︎ Y a n d e re ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n whose only companion is a magic mirror, one side whole, one side shattered, he can't quite remember if he's at fault for that. A magic mirror who tells him everything. Evil King! Roman whose paranoia drives him to ask, again and again, who the people rever, whom they worship as their king, who is it that the people admire. Who is the fairest in all the land? It's always him, the mirror says. Tyrant king, intoxicated by his own power. The damsels still yearn for him, the noblemen still fall at his feet.

❦ ︎ Y a n d er e ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n who 's appalled that one day, one grim dark day. The mirror doesn't utter his name, it sings about the princess, the last remnant of the old monarchy that Roman had crushed. The precious daughter of the weak king and queen of old. She is the fairest, in grace and in face. The maiden who sings to the birds and whose musk awakens the flowers. Whose smile puts the sun to shame and whose eyes sparkle brightest. She will be his downfall, the mirror says, the people dream of the fair maiden superseding their potentate masked king. Dream of replacing tyranny with benevolence, of trading secrecy for candor.

❦ ︎ Y a n d er e ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n whose face is forever ruined and so he refuses to allow the starry-eyed little princess to be the fairest in the land. Envy and paranoia both sink their ragged teeth into his heart as he gazes down from his window. Bearing witness to the fair maiden singing by the well as she hugs a little rabbit to her chest so tenderly. He knows she has to die, he refuses to be bested by a little girl.

❦ ︎ Y a n d er e ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n who toils day and night, mixing the deadliest of poisons with the vilest chemicals. Smearing his potion upon a ripe red apple. Your essence flashes across his mind, perfect lips drawn into a cheerful smile. For a second he envisions them caught between his teeth, your tiny body withers beneath him, eyes wide as you gaze up at him in adore and abhor. It's the bright red of the apple that shakes away such visions. The lethal red eagerly awaits to be pierced by your pearly white teeth.

❦ ︎ Y a n de r e ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n who's always harbored a demented little crush on the naive little princess his kingdom still reveres, who always dreamed of harshly ringing his fingers across your face, of having you kneel between his thighs and kiss his rings. Who's had many a sleepless night dreaming of turning you into his perfect little toy. And maybe this apple is a love letter as much as it is a dagger to the heart. After all, what is a poison apple if not love twisted into malice, painted by ruby ​​​​​​glass shards and laced with sweet sweet detest? What is a poison apple if not a confession?

❦ ︎ Y a n d e re ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n who pushes sweet candy apples between your teeth forcing you to take a bit. Whose body is dangerously close to yours, fingers digging into the delicate soft flesh of your hips, laying bruises upon the bones. You're kinda cute like this, Roman thinks, wide eyes, terrified, and yet all so trusting. Like nothing in the world would ever dare harm a soul as sweet as yours. You melt under his touch, desperately clinging to pretenses and formalities, far too shy to deny your king.

❦ ︎ Y a n d e re ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n who catches your body as it collapses, who watches as the poison dances across your face, dazed eyes hooded, forever closed. He takes a moment to appreciate this, you between his arms, lethargic and vulnerable just like a little doll. He carries you outside the castle, declares to the guards that 'someone' has poisoned the princess, declares that a public funeral shall be held. All while trying to hide his smug grin.

❦ ︎ Y a n d er e ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n, who only realizes how truly gorgeous you are when you're laying dead in your glass coffins marveled and exalted by all the weeping kingdom of Gotham. How dare they look at you, how dare they fawn over what's his. How dare they dream of what belongs to him. Ethereal beauty sprawled out among the red cushions entrapped forever in glass. How did he miss it? You may be the fairest but it was never you that he envied. He wanted you, needed you. It was the kingdom he was jealous of, the peasants or faux-faced nobles who fawned and swooned over you. Those who stole you away, those who made him hate you for far too long.

❦ ︎ Y a n d er e ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n who listens as the people mutter about 'a prince', about 'true love'. They're too stubborn to let you die . Too hopeful to admit they've lost to the king. After all, they do say love is blind. Roman just hopes the village boys don't start lining up to kiss you. Clinging to frivolous hope that they are the one.

❦ ︎ Y a n d e re ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n who never knew he would miss the thorn in his side. Who uses black magic and forbidden sorcery to reawaken you. Inhales the smoke and kisses you push it past your lips and down your lungs. Who makes the crowd watch in the dead of night as he "saves you", declaring himself the princess's "true love". Later in the castle, he pulls you aside, "Be grateful" he warns "I could have left you for dead". You're too dazed to speak, swallowing the words as they blossom on your tongue. 'I preferred being dead' you almost long to say.

❦ ︎ Y a n d e re ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n who only now registers that you are his princess, his doll, the fairest of them all can only belong to him. You're not quite alive, not quite dead either. Clinging to Roman sitting pretty on his lap as he rules over all those poor unfortunate souls. Day by day your eyes grow more vacant, empty, all the stars have almost died out. Your only thoughts are of him, only of him, to you he's the fairest in all the land. Your one true love. The man who saved you from your eternal slumber.

❦ ︎ Y a n d e re ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n who kisses you like he's trying to conquer what little of you is left, who bites at your flesh as if he were eating an apple . He relishes in the way your plush lips kiss across his shoulders and neck and masked face. Who can't get enough of his little princess.

❦ ︎ Y a n d er e ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n who still feeds you poisoned apples and watches as your mind grows numb and your body taut. Who enjoys having you so scared and mindless, hugging him close as if he were your prince charming...

🎀I kinda love the DC x Fairly Tale AU idea. And to think it all came from a quick nap lol. Let me know if you guys want more of these. I'm thinking of a Little Red Riding Hood au with Jason Todd and desperately need a fairy tale for Harvey Dent!!

🎀@d3athmaskd1v1n3 @fancyfeathers @yandere-writer-momo

[razorblade180-heated]

War of the Roses

[Caution: Smut!]

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” Whoever first said that deserves a pat on the back and kick to the shin. Perhaps it was due to personal experience, but Ruby was never fond of missing loved ones. It’s why she always tried to be a part of anything when possible. All and all, she’s had moderate success. Team with her sister, friends that included her often, and most impressively, two romantic partners.

As much as she would like to think of herself as a secret genius in the field of love, in actuality, she somehow managed to look attractive to both Weiss and Jaune. Not sure how blowing herself up in the courtyard a few years ago led to such an achievement but she wasn’t going to question it. Her relationship with the two have always felt special to her; not to mention she wasn’t as oblivious as others might think. Ruby was fairly crafty in a harmless way.

She had never expected Weiss to confess when she did, but when the day came, Ruby had already given quite a bit of thought about her own feelings. Weiss had her flustered beyond belief everyday but Jaune’s kindness and mutual interests had her charmed so badly it wasn’t even funny. If it had been freshman year, she wouldn’t have dared to get them both in the same room and propose dating both. The fact Weiss entertained the conversation at all said volumes about her change in perspective on Jaune as they went through school together. As for him, there was no point hiding the idea of a relationship with both his current and former crush sounded too good to be true. Poor guy remained relatively neutral and silent during the entire discussion.

Despite the bold proposal, somehow, they’ve made it work better than Ruby expected. It was definitely a little weird at first, that was for certain, but over time they hit their stride. Ruby was all in from the beginning. She was up for any kind of date and matched and was careful to listen to both. Although pushy at times, she knew those two needed nudges in respective directions when it came to solo and group interactions. Still, Ruby never imagined the day they’d get along so well that eventually feelings were flowing in every direction! She can’t claim to be a romantic genius but Ruby definitely felt like a decent match maker.

These days, things are pretty calm and sharing an apartment for their last year at Beacon has been pretty cozy. Indeed, she has truly done wonderfully in sticking around all the things she loves. Unfortunately, that line has always stopped at two points. “Group fun” which is admittedly a hard sell given the different temperaments of the two; and the inescapable mission hours they had to put in.

Ruby laid on the couch lazily and sighed as she missed her blonde dork. “I never would’ve thought I’d be counting the days for a partner to return like I’m a kid waiting for Santa.”

“Ruby, he’s been gone a month.” Weiss said candidly, washing a couple dishes. “That’s far from a year.”

“And yet it feels just as baaaaad!”

“Well, I guess it would’ve helped if JNPR didn’t take an undercover mission.”

“Right!?” Ruby sat up aggressively. “Radio silence is the worst!”

Weiss had to agree. Though she wasn’t nearly as antsy as her redhead was, she had been a little concerned. Undercover missions were risky. “At least the hard part is over. We literally got a call last night that he's coming back today. Honestly we were worried for nothing. Ren is a master at stealth while Nora and Pyrrha know how to adapt. Jaune probably had the perfect plan for them.”

Ruby raised a brow and smiled. “We?” She said cheekily. “Last time I checked, someone was pretending to be unbothered.”

A tint of red washed over Weiss as she huffed. “Hmph! You make me sound cold. Of course I was worried. I just don’t let it go to my head like some people!” She put the dishes away and whispered, “He’s my boyfriend too ya know…”

Those words filled Ruby with such joy. She couldn’t help but dash over and hug her adorable girlfriend from behind. “Awww! Weiss!!!”

“Unhand me!”

“Nope! Don’t fight the affection. I’m sure Jaune would be very happy to hear that.”

“Speak of this and you are washing your own dishes forever.” Weiss looked over her shoulder to see the girl still grinning, going as far to even kiss Weiss’s nose. “You’re so annoying at times.”

“Whatever, you love this. Sooooo now that I know I’m not the only one missing him, should I expect a text to wear headphones again?”

“No!” Weiss defended. “Unlike you, I’m not some frustrated dog.”

“So he’s all mine then today? Sweet.”

“Let him rest! He’s not even back yet and I’m sure he’ll be hungry.”

“You make it sound like there haven't been times we came back from missions wanting to spend a little quality time with him, or Jaune being extra affectionate with one of us.”

Once again, Weiss couldn’t exactly deny the instances where she returned from slaying Grimm for weeks and wanting nothing more than a nice bath and a body rub from Jaune that went a little too far.

“Be that as it may, this is different!” Weiss huffed again. “It’s not as if you’ve exactly been starved of intimacy.” She muttered.

Almost on cue, Weiss felt Ruby’s head rest in the crook of her neck, planting a warm kiss as the reaper’s hand outlined her figure. Weiss let out a soft gasp feeling Ruby nip her earlobe.

“That’s true~” Ruby giggled. Just as her hands teasingly went for Weiss’s shirt, the woman reached up and pinched the bridge of Ruby’s nose. “Ow ow ow ow! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Not everyone has your energy. Have a little decency. We are in the kitchen!”

“You talk about energy and decency but you’re just a little shy. Although if you get comfortable like last night then- ow! Ow! My nose!” She screams nasally.

“What happens in the mood, stays in the mood. Understand?”

“Got it! Please release me.”

Weiss lets the poor girl go and kisses her nose. “Dunce.”

“Love you too.”

Their little antics came to an end once they heard the automated click of the door. Both girls walked out of the kitchen and peeked around the corner in perfect sync to spot Jaune dropping his duffel bag and taking off his shoes.

“He lives!” Ruby cheered, catching his attention.

“Hey Rubes- wait, was there doubt?” Instead of an answer he got her jumping into his arms and clinging to him like a sloth; he also earned a nice kiss on the cheek. “Haha, I missed you too.”

Weiss took a far more casual approach, walking up to him with folded arms and a smile. “How was-” her words were immediately cut off by a quick surprise kiss. “Your mission?” She finished, blood rushing to her face.

“Every plan is foolproof until something blows up.” He laughed tiredly. “Ups and downs. Nothing we couldn’t handle. We’re technically home a little early.”

Ruby hopped down, allowing the man to actually rest his body. “Early? Pfft, this felt like an eternity. We need to have more joint missions. At least then we’re all in the thick of it.”

Weiss shuddered at the thought. “Any mission asking for team RWBY and JNPR is one misstep away from being at minimum a city crisis.”

“And we would handle it wonderfully!” Ruby said with pride. Meanwhile her partners looked at such confidence with exhaustion before walking to the living room. “Hey! It’s true!”

Jaune flopped onto the couch in comfort while Weiss made her way to the fridge. “Hungry? We actually have leftovers for once.”

“I’m good. Ren was nice enough to make us a meal before we headed out.”

“I’m shocked you kept it down the entire trip here.” She teased, looking for a drink.

“It was a short flight. We traveled by train mostly.”

“That explains it.” Weiss pulled out three water bottles before turning around to see Ruby cuddling up under Jaune. The girl truly had no ounce of shame under this roof. Her hand rubbed his chest gently while her face found a home in the crook of the knight’s neck, causing him to blush. “Feel free to roll her off the couch. No one would blame you.”

“Pretty sure Ruby would.” He felt her teeth slightly grace his skin before kissing it.

“You smell nice. The trip home must’ve been calm.” She sank deeper into him. “Are you sleepy, or tired? I can work with tired.” She cooed, kissing him again.

Not even Weiss was immune from blushing under these conditions. Even though he’d just returned, Jaune kissed Ruby back with simmering passion to indulge her. “Animals. Both of you.”

Ruby smiled cheekily. “Guilty. I guess I bring it out of people. So about what I said earlier; have any objections?”

“Pfft, help yourself. Just don’t get us a noise complaint. I’m gonna finish my show.”

Ruby could tell Weiss was a bit pouty but the heiress was always a little shy when it came to openly admitting to feeling horny. Still, she’d make it clear when she wanted attention. Looks like she really was okay letting Jaune rest. One day Ruby would like to gain such discipline.

The reaper hopped off the couch and took Jaune by the hand. “Hear that? You’re all mine for now.” She carefully walked backwards down the hall towards her room.

“Hehe, so you were discussing it beforehand? I’m flattered.”

“My pleasure~”

“Get a room.” Weiss teased, tossing them water bottles. “Don’t kill him. I’d actually like to share a meal later tonight.”

Ruby flashed a toothy grin as confirmation before whisking Jaune away, closing the door behind them. “Don’t let her fool you. She missed you tons.”

“I know.” He smiled softly. “I’ll help make dinner as thanks.

“With how red her face was, I can think of better ways than a delicious casserole. Honestly I really thought today might be the day all three of us had fun together.”

The idea of that itself was enough to make Jaune’s cheeks fiery red. “That might be a bit much.”

“Hehe. Doesn’t sound like you’d hate it.”

“That’s neither here nor there.” He deflected. Some fantasies can stay private. Being in a throuple was already an outcome he never rationalized. “Anyways, to answer your question, I am a bit tired.”

“No worries. That’s just another reason to spoil you.” Ruby ran her hands up his body and over his shoulders. “I really missed you. I’m glad you’re safe.”

She stood on her toes and kissed him gently, slipping her tongue into his mouth for a deeper kiss that made them groan. Their feet guided them closer towards the bed where Ruby playfully pushed him onto. Much like Weiss, Jaune was always a bit bashful in the beginning. Fortunately, Ruby knew what made the boy tick. She kept her eyes locked onto him as she got on her knees, her hands effortlessly undoing his jeans and pulling them off effortlessly.

“You’re way too good at that.”

“You’ve given me plenty of practice.” Ruby kissed the growing bulge underneath his blue boxers, earning a sweet groan from him as she fished out the erection. “Are you sure you’re tired?” She teased, running tongue up the base.

“Ruby~” Jaune moaned instinctively. The girl’s warm tongue swirled around his swollen tip before she greedily swallowed his cock. “Aaaghn!”

That’s it. That’s what she wanted to hear. She took him halfway down her throat, her mouth refusing to handle all seven inches. Maybe if he wasn’t so girthy then she could endure, but she’d never wish to change something like that. Her eyes remained fixed on his as she bobbed her head, lathering his shaft as she stroked the base. A month was clearly a long time for him too. He was already throbbing and precum overwhelmed her senses.

Jaune reached for strands of her red hair, running his hands through them as his hips buckled. “R-Ruby! Just like that!” He was getting close. Jaune felt the pleasure rise dangerously high before Ruby removed her mouth, halting his orgasm. “You’re so evil.” He panted.

Ruby took a sip of her water to cleanse her pallet. “Swallowing is hard!” She defended, embarrassed by her limitations. “Besides, there’s better places to cum.”

She stood up, pulling off her shirt in one fell swoop and leaving Jaune speechless as he watched her boobs bounce freely. Honestly it was flattering how many times she’s done this and yet he still looked awestruck. Personally she was still a little envious of her sister but not once did Weiss or Jaune ever complain, so why should she? Ruby hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her shorts and pulled them down slowly, putting on a little show for her knight.

The way this dorky girl could become so alluring always amazed Jaune. Her nice toned thighs, the slight tuft of red hair over glistening pink lips, it never failed to stir him up. “Stunned as always.”

“I can say the same about you.” She blushed, climbing on top of him. Her hands slid under his shirt to help pull it off to reveal years of hard work. “I remember when your abs weren’t on par with mine.”

“Let’s not talk about those dark days.”

“Haha, what do you mean?” She pushed him down against the bed gently, keeping her hands on his broad chest. “You looked good then, and you look good now. Just relax and I’ll prove it to you.”

Jaune watched Ruby close her eyes as she angled the tip against her entrance. Slowly, her mouth fell open as she sank down onto his length, gasping silently until her soft ass was sitting on his lap. He felt her grip squeeze him eagerly the moment her hips rocked forward and raised up before sitting back down.

“Aaagh, gods.” It felt like her body was getting split open. “Don’t leave for a month again!” She found a steady rhythm to keep herself sane.

Jaune could feel her dripping down his shaft as he watched her face contort and her chest bounce. Despite her words, Jaune wasn’t about to lay down and do nothing. Not when her biggest weakness was right in front of him. He didn’t think twice about palming her boobs, his fingers honing in on pink, perky nipples to pinch. Immediately he felt her pussy mold around him in response.

“F-Wait!” Ruby panted, feeling a jolt run down his spine as he pinched harder. “I said to relax~” she whined.

“I am.” A raspiness hung on his words. Jaune tugged and rubbed the sensitive nubs. “I’m watching my favorite thing right now, so don’t hold back.”

There’s that confidence she liked. A lustful grin crept onto her face briefly before returning to moans as she fucked herself on Jaune’s cock, grinding it against her favorite spots feverishly. “Aaa~” her hips got more aggressive. “AAAGHA!”

So much for being quiet. Ruby leaned forward more, placing her right hand against the wall to steady her riding more. She felt Jaune release her right tit only to immediately capture it with an eager tongue that showed no mercy, driving her hips to go mad and make the bed creak. She could feel his dick throb violently as they both lost their composure.

“Don’t cum yet! I’m so close! I’m-” He bit her nipple, hard. “AAAAH!”

Ruby slammed down on his lap one final time before her body convulsed. From head to toe, please crashed into her as a month of pent up aggression flooded her womb. All her strength fizzled out for a second, causing her to lay on top of Jaune.

The young man didn’t allow Ruby to rest. He greedily took her lips. A move she happily accepted. Jaune placed his hands on her hips and carefully rolled over; he found the strength to pull away from the kiss and sit up between her legs.

“I missed you too.” He pumped his cock into Ruby, watching the girl cover her mouth as he played with sensitive pussy.

“Mmmngh~” what happened to being tired? Sure he wasn’t moving nearly as fast as she was, but Jaune really didn’t need to in this position. Every thrust poked, prodded, and scratched the various itches her insides craved. Jaune even went a step further by grabbing her legs and letting them hang off his shoulders. “Fuuuck!”

It was always cute when she swore. It was one of the few things Ruby truly found embarrassing, yet a few managed to slip out when she was really feeling good. Their arousal mixed together and made thrusting that much easier. They weren’t going to last long like this.

“You ready for a second load!” He gasped.

Ruby removed her hands. “H-Hug me~” She begged, reaching for him. Jaune bent down for her and Ruby took his lips again, sucking on his tongue while his thrusts remained deep. She could feel his tip relentlessly knock on the back of her walls before another load forced them to grip his cock again. Both their bodies went completely rigid before finally going limp. Ruby’s legs fell off her boyfriend’s shoulders and the two gasped for air like they finished a marathon. Although in this case, a sprint was more like it. Jaune pulled himself off her, grabbing their water before rolling over to lay next to her.

“Y-You good?”

“I think you lied about being tired.” She laughed through her breathing. “You might’ve been as eager as me.”

“It’s been a month. Even I have my limits.” He sat up and took a sip of his water. Ruby followed suit, quickly regaining her typical enthusiasm.

“That felt amazing.” She said with brimming joy. “Although I didn’t mean to swear at the end.”

“It’s amazing that’s what you’re hung up on.”

“I was raised in a house with a swear jar. It puts fear in you.” She lamented. “Those were rough times.”

“Hahah, I bet.” Jaune wiped sweat from his forehead. He wasn’t expecting things to escalate that rapidly. “What are the odds Weiss heard us?”

“You absolutely know she did.” Ruby said bluntly. As if on command Jaune’s scroll vibrated with a message from the regal young lady.

“Let me guess,” Ruby put her hands together. “She wants to have a chat with you whenever we’re finished?”

He knew they were teammates, but it was scary how well they could get into each other’s heads. “Lucky guess.”

“Ha! She’ll let you off easy. Or maybe the noise got her feeling frisky after all? Honestly, it wouldn’t be a hassle for her to join.”

“You’re really stuck on that, aren’t you?”

“Of course!” Ruby huffed. “We’re all dating. More importantly, I love you both. It feels a bit weird that it’s never happened. I get you two are both a little awkward but we could work through it.”

“And you’re not awkward!?”

“Jaune, I dragged you in here. The one thing I’m not awkward about is expressing my feelings to you both.”

He hated to admit it but that was very true. “I think it has more to do with how we might act or want to act in certain situations.”

“Now that you mention it, I wouldn’t know which one of you leads. You’re both pretty polite, all things considered.” Ruby looked at the red mark left on her tit. “Even when you’re getting into the swing of things.” She giggled. “Level with me. Do you ever think about threesome? Be honest.”

“It’s crossed my mind on a few occasions.” He rubbed the back of his head. “How could it not?”

“See? I knew I wasn’t crazy. I bet Weiss has thought of it too. She really has a soft spot for you.”

“That could be the same for you.”

“Well duh, but it’s a bit different. She started with a crush on me. With you, that didn’t just grow over time. The giant crush she knew you had on her was flustering.”

“It-It wasn’t that giant.” He lied, knowing nobody would ever believe that.

“Jaune, all of Beacon knew. I knew, which made it shocking when you eventually looked my way; I was always looking at both of you, so I count myself pretty lucky.”

“We really did find our rhythm, didn’t we?”

“I’ll say!” Ruby smiled. “But there’s room to make more music. Not just for pleasure’s sake, but because the intimacy feels really nice. Is it weird to call it bonding?”

“Hehe, no, no I get what you mean.” Jaune looked at the message again, pondering this moment. He could tell Weiss missed him. It was just a little difficult to show around Ruby. Maybe it was rooted in her home environment, but Weiss seemed to generally do better in one on one meetings. Kinda ironic given her popularity on and off stage. “This really means a lot to you?”

Ruby raised a curious brow. “Are you saying you’ll help?”

“Don’t get your hopes up. I don’t really have a plan when it comes to this kind of thing. I do think you’re right though about the feelings tied up in it, so I might as well try.”

Jaune got up and began dressing himself again. “I’m gonna go see what she wants. Ruby, do you trust me?”

“Forever and always.” She said fondly, tilting her head. “What do you need?”

“Ten minutes. Stay in here that long. After that come to Weiss’s room but don’t knock. Just assess everything for yourself.”

Now she was intrigued. “Okay? I can do that no problem.”

“Awesome.” He kissed her one more time before leaving. Jaune didn’t bother putting on his shirt again. No matter the outcome, it was going to be off. Either for Weiss or the shower he wanted to take.

He walked down the hallway and quickly noticed Weiss wasn’t in the living room anymore. Her room it is then. Instead of knocking, Jaune texted ‘we are done’ and hit send. He wasn’t expecting the girl’s door to swing open; much like Weiss wasn’t expecting the blonde to be in her doorway shirtless. They both blushed instantly.

“Someone is confident in their chances today.” Weiss pursed her lips. “Was being tired a lie?”

“I just didn’t feel like putting it back on! I’m a little hot at the moment.” He defended.

“I bet. Must you two be so loud? You made watching tv very…distracting.”

“So you did hear?

“Dolt, don’t play dumb! How could I not hear!? Ruby was literally shouting.” Weiss brushed her hair out of her face. “Guess she finally settled down.”

“Hehe, yeah. She’s laying down. So, umm, may I come in?”

That question made her ears burn, but she wasn’t about to fold so easily. “And why exactly?”

“Because I missed you just as much, and I think you missed me too.”

Damn him. A genuine response! Weiss remained silent. She stepped backwards out of the doorway, allowing him in. Weiss closed the door behind him and was about to lock it, when his arms suddenly wrapped around her body and picked her up the same way Ruby had jumped into his embrace. She didn’t even get a word out before receiving a hot kiss from her boyfriend.

“Mmph!?” She broke it . “H-Hold on a-” Nope. Another kiss. One that played with her tongue and buzzed her head.

Jaune walked over to her perfectly made bed and placed Weiss on her back as he continued to make out with her. She felt his lips leave only to assault her neck.

“Ah~ Jaune~” her body trembled as she felt him kiss her ear. His fingers ran up her long slender legs as she felt his weight lay over him like a blanket. That’s when dangerous words spilled from his lips like wine.

“Have you been a good girl?” He whispered, causing every inch of her body to shudder in anticipation.

“Yes sir~”

xxxxx

In no time at all, ten minutes flew by. Thankfully Ruby had the ability to stand by then. She wasn’t quite sure if she should get dressed so she settled for wearing her cloak as a means to retain some modesty while entertaining the hallway. Being naked in the hallway always felt embarrassing despite doing way worse behind a door. The young woman refocused herself.

“No sound from the living room. In which case…” she tiptoed towards Weiss’s door. She didn’t even need to open it to hear the sound of fidgeting bed springs. “And she acts like I’m the eager one?” Ruby smiled.

Carefully, the girl twisted the doorknob and peaked inside. The grin on her face quickly vanished while her face went dark red from what was a few feet away. At the edge of the bed was Jaune, sitting comfortably as the white haired girl stood on her knees between his legs without a single piece of clothing. Though her face was obscured, the girl’s shadow showed Ruby how Weiss placed her face in Jaune’s lap completely. Her throat made a wet and messy sound as her head bobbed repeatedly as Jaune rubbed her head.

His view was far more amazing. Weiss’s icy blue eyes went against her deep red blush perfectly. “You’re so perfect~” he moaned, leaning back more. “That’s my girl.”

The praise made her head swim deeper into pleasure. Weiss didn’t think twice about wrapping her lips tighter around his cock. Her tongue led a trail down the shaft, guiding him to the back of her throat to feel him ache. “Mmmmmnnngh~” she had missed this taste so much.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Mmhmm~”

“How’s Ruby taste?”

Weiss popped him out of her mouth, gasping heavily before immediately kissing along the shaft. “Delicious.” She muttered, lapping up the shaft. Her right hand grew impatient. Weiss couldn’t help herself from gently rubbing herself as she took care of Jaune.

Ruby couldn’t believe her ears, or her eyes for that matter. Sure, Weiss could be dirty, but the sight of her swallowing Jaune whole wasn’t something she ever expected!

“Taste more of her.” Jaune groaned, raising his hips to meet her. Carefully he thrusted up while getting a tighter grip on her hair.

“Mmmph!” Weiss shut her eyes, concentrating on her breathing as Jaune played with her mouth. The feeling of her own arousal dripping from her fingertips stirred her up to no end. She wasn’t the only one.

Jaune’s eyes shifted towards the door to spot Ruby playing with herself silently. Their gaze met briefly, deepening both their arousal before Jaune put his attention back on Weiss. “I think it’s time to show you how much I missed you.”

Ruby continued to watch in disbelief as Jaune pulled Weiss off of his cock and brought her up onto his lap. The flustered man she adored was being far rougher than Weiss than he ever did with Ruby. Then again, she never really gave him the opportunity. He was typically timid at the start. Did he always treat Weiss like this? Could he treat her like this if she asked?

His arms wrapped around Weiss’s petite frame before falling back onto the bed. Ruby saw his swollen tip rub the entrance lustfully before actually spreading Weiss open in almost one fell swoop.

“Aaagh! Fuck!” Her lungs struggled for air as she felt his length pull out easily before rushing back into the point her ass smacked against his legs repeatedly; causing Weiss to scream in bliss. “Not so rough!” She whined, knowing he’d keep the pace. “She’ll hear!”

“Let her. I don’t think she’ll mind.”

And that was a fact! Ruby could see everything. Each time he went in, Weiss’s pussy quivered and coated Jaune’s dick in her cream Ruby loved so much. The sound of both their grunts alongside the intense noise of flesh meeting made Ruby bite her bottom lip. Her fingers weren’t enough, but she remained where she was. All the while, her core ached as the thought of Jaune on top of her came rushing back.

Weiss was in her own world. The embrace Jaune had her in left her with only the ability to bite his neck and call out his name. She resigned herself to the whims of this position until he rolled over and kissed her deeply. Her moans were swallowed by his each time he rubbed her womb. Jaune repositioned his arms by the sides of her head which finally allowed her to cling properly to his body.

“Like this!” She whimpered, nails running along his back. “Fuck me just like this. Aghn, I missed you.”

“I missed you too. You look so beautiful right now.”

“Sh-Shut up!” Her walls begged harder for his cum.

“It’s true. You’re so beautiful.” Jaune rose up from her grasp, his hips still at work. “I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

Weiss saw him shift his eyes to her left. In the haze of pleasure, she managed to turn her head and gasped upon seeing Ruby at the edge of the bed completely naked and face flushed redder than the hood she abandoned. “R-Ruby!?”

“Yell at me later~” Ruby couldn’t hold out any longer. She went straight for Weiss’s lips and gave her nothing short of pure desire.”

The girl’s body was in shock for a second, but her tongue danced around Ruby’s like it had countless times before. Weiss’s hand kept Ruby’s face close. She was too close to her limit and too far into pleasure to do nothing aside from act on said pleasure. The reaper’s hand massaged Weiss’s breasts and trailed down grazing her clit while the cock inside her raged, causing another carnal scream. Try as she might, Weiss couldn’t fight back any longer and her orgasm poured out of her while her body trembled with euphoria.

Her convulsions were so great that Jaune had no choice but to pull out and take a breath before he too was sent over the edge. Something told him he was going to need to pace himself for this experience. A hard thing to do when there were two gorgeous women making out in front of him.

With Jaune out of Weiss, Ruby took the initiative to fully climb onto Weiss as they continued to kiss. She was half expecting to get bit as payback but even as her love calmed down, all Weiss did was kiss her lazily as her hands roamed over Ruby, settling on her ass.

“He was right.” Ruby said between kisses. “You are beautiful.”

“Don’t act cute. I’ll get my payback.” Weiss nipped Ruby's neck briefly before allowing the girl to suck on her tongue again. No doubt Jaune bent the knee to her. “I don’t know how much you saw, but I won’t stand for it.”

“Why be embarrassed? I love you.” Ruby rubbed her hips against Weiss, causing a moan from both. “I want these moments with you.”

“Y-ngh~ needy. Just know, I won’t be the only one moaning like a fool.” Weiss kissed back feverishly.

Ruby felt the girl’s hands spread her ass open and pump a single finger into her sopping wet entrance. “Mmm, don’t tease me.”

“I’m not.” Weiss bit Ruby’s earlobe before whispering, “I’m distracting you.”

Before she could react, Ruby felt her body accept Jaune’s length in one push, causing her body to jolt and mind to buzz as she felt his hands press down on her hips before he fucked her. Air was caught in her lungs while her body was robbed of strength. Weiss’s left hand kept Ruby nice and open for Jaune while her right hand held Ruby’s jaw in order to get a good look at the mess the girl was turning into.

“Now you’re beautiful too.” Her words caused Ruby to blush wildly. The mischievous girl tried avoiding Weiss’s gaze, but she wouldn’t allow it with her hand still holding her jaw. “Nuh uh. Look at me baby. Oh you’re loving this, aren’t you.” She teased, giving the girl a taste of her own medicine for once. Weiss wasn’t lying though. Ruby looked so cute like this.

“W-Waaaait!” Ruby gasped. She could feel her walls get worked over nice and evenly with every thrust. The feeling of both their lusts devoured her body bit by bit. Weiss’s forwardness was one thing, but Jaune, he had never been quite this aggressive before. “I’m sensitive from before!”

Wiess could feel Jaune poke around inside their girlfriend. “Fuck her harder.” She groaned. “I want to feel her unravel.”

Weiss stopped holding back and pressed her lips against Ruby’s neck, licking and sucking as she wanted while the girl breathlessly took Jaune’s dick from behind. Their bodies were soon covered in a layer of sweat and Ruby could barely support any of her weight. The impact from Jaune occasionally made her nipples graze against Weiss’s, causing further noises to leak out her lips. Ruby felt Weiss’s right hand run through her head and keep it steady as the girl remained determined to give Ruby the biggest hickey of her life.

“I’m- I’m gonna cum!” Ruby panted, fearing her own orgasm. “I- AAAGH!”

The poor girl’s vision went white. Her fingers dug into bed sheets as her body spasmed violently. Heat spread throughout her stomach from the addictive and sudden rush of Jaune’s cum filling her up as he gripped her ass firmly against his waist.

“It’s still going~” Ruby muttered, her walls clenching from every sensation in and out of her. Even the warmth from Weiss’s lips running along her neck stole further strength to the point Ruby went limp. “Mercy~” she whined.

Jaune wasn’t even being mean but he obliged, finally pulling out and sitting back to catch his own breath. Personally he wasn’t sure what was left in his own take. Weiss on the other hand wasn’t as benevolent. Jaune watched her roll over to top Ruby before continuing to torture her with kisses briefly.

“She is so petty.” Jaune held back a chuckle.

“Still alive?” The girl said, looking down at her handiwork. Weiss wasn’t without a little mercy. Even she needed air. “You sounded like you were having fun.”

“Because I was.” Ruby sighed, slowly coming down from her high. Ruby felt the girl’s lips press on her chest again. Each kiss was slow and deliberate as they traveled down her body. “Baby, wait.”

“Shhhh. Relax, I won’t go crazy.” Weiss hummed. Though she tried to act defiant and upset about the situation, it poorly masked how much this situation stirred her more carnal fixations. Weiss couldn’t hold back anymore. Her mouth briefly hovered over Ruby’s pussy, its entrance still dripping with lust. Weiss slipped her tongue right inside and helped herself to the taste of both of her lovers.

Ruby placed a hand over her mouth, her face turning dark red from the unexpected sensation. “Sh-She’s licking it out!?” Her hips quivered from the feeling of Weiss’s tongue curling up and running along the top before flicking out and swirling her clit. Ruby was about to go crazy if the girl did that again, but Weiss seemed to show a little mercy, at first anyways. Blue eyes returned overhead to look down into silver. Only now they didn’t hide a shred of arousal. In fact, it went deeper than Ruby had imagined.

“You really know how to push my buttons. Be mad at yourself if you see something hideous.”

Before Ruby could even ponder the meaning of her words, Weiss pulled away the hand over her mouth and went in for a kiss that held nothing back. Her tongue was quickly stolen, given the bewitching punishment of receiving the cocktail of tastes Weiss had blended together. It all made Ruby’s heart pounded with each new experience Weiss delivered. She’s never been this needy. This…erotic. Ruby couldn’t help but wrap her arms around the girl’s shoulders and accept the fire she ignited.

The two of them let their bodies melt into each other without a care. They might have spent ages kissing hungrily if it wasn't for a rush of pleasure that hit their core as they felt something long and hard slide between their lower lips. A moan left them; Weiss looked over her shoulder to see Jaune looking at her with half lidded eyes.

“Someone really is greedy today.”

“Who wouldn’t be in this situation?” Jaune began thrusting his hips slowly, earning their moans. “Do you think I could keep my calm seeing you do all that?”

Weiss flashed a smirk then turned back to Ruby’s whimpering face. “You always do crack more getting rubbed then fucked.” Weiss giggled, before a firm right hand struck her rear; the large finger kneaded her ass like dough before sending a chill up her spine. Weiss felt a mix of shame and pleasure burn her cheeks as Jaune’s thumb circled around her asshole, pressing inside ever so slowly to the first knuckle. “NAAGH!”

Ruby watched the girl’s face gain a few shades of red as she bit her lip. “You’re just as bad as me.” She teased, unaware of what punishment was given to make them even.

Weiss shut the girl up with another test of stamina, ensuring that Ruby would be too focused on their kiss to notice a kink Jaune dared to play with in front of the reaper! Rationally, Weiss knew Ruby wouldn’t judge, but mentally, Weiss would rather jump into fire before revealing it now of all times. It was bad enough Jaune knew of it and made it harder to deny her how submissive she really could be. She was enjoying putting Ruby on the back foot for once! Why was he doing this now!?

Weiss reached back with her left in an attempt to sway away the devil hand, but was quickly restrained by Jaune’s own left hand grabbing her by the wrist before thrusting harder.

“Behave.” He rasped.

Such a simple word yet it held Weiss in a death grip that caused her hips to grind down on the man’s shaft. She tried her luck with bricking his grip but was meant with firm strength. The unruly cock that pleasured her and Ruby slipped out from between them and plunged all the way to her cervix twice. The spike in pleasure was mind numbing and caused her to gasp violently. Jaune’s cock was already out again and back between them like nothing happened.

“Behave~” he said once more.

Such an annoyingly beautiful word. It wrapped Weiss in strings that moved to orders given in moments of bliss. Weiss lowered her again to return to Ruby’s love while her back arched for Jaune to play with her ass further. Weiss didn’t care anymore. All she could do was moan alongside Ruby as they felt rubbed against a burning hot cock.

“Good girl.”

“Mmmmm~” Weiss bucked harder. She ended up being no different from Ruby, moaning endlessly while desperately trying to hold on to this moment. Her girlfriend’s nails ran up her back and through her hair as they stared longingly at one another.

Ruby drank in the sight of Weiss’s flushed, damp skin and the sound of her voice. “I love you so much~”

Weiss felt her heart flutter. “Now’s not the time!” She protested, hiding her face in the crook of Ruby’s neck.

“But I do. Mmmmgh, I do~” Ruby gently bit the girl’s earlobe as she felt her hips grind harder. “Oh my gods! Aaahh yesss~”

To be praised by Ruby and bullied mercilessly by Jaune at once, Weiss was at a loss for words. The weight of the man’s hand pushed her body further down against his cock and Ruby’s pussy as he thrusted harder; there wasn’t the slightest bit of friction with how much they coated his length from tip to base. Weiss could feel it poke her stomach and throb angrily each time it slid along their clits.

“Jaune! Can’t you cum already!?” She pleaded. “I don’t know… how much longer I can-” his thumb pumped in and out faster, ruining her train of thought. “No! F-AAH!”

Weiss couldn’t hold on any longer. The girl came so hard over the two she might as well have squirted. Desperately trying to hold onto something, she bit Ruby’s neck, bringing back a mix of pain and pleasure that brought the rose to her own release. Jaune finally allowed himself to give into his own approaching orgasm. A few more pumps through intoxicating warmth was all he could manage before cumming all over the girls’ bodies.

The hot ropes of his seed made them quiver. A final moan was shared between them as well when they felt him pull out. Ruby felt like she had run a marathon backwards. It was satisfying, but she definitely wasn’t prepared for such a challenge. She was amazed to see Weiss have the strength to get up off her.

“Thank you.” Ruby muttered, enjoying the hit of cool air on her body. A wet and familiar warmth ran along her stomach, causing Ruby to lift her head up and see the heiress silently lap up Jaune’s mess. Their eyes met for barely a second before Weiss’s darted away like they always do when she’s embarrassed.

Ruby observed silently, remembering what she saw in the beginning of all this. “She really enjoys this part.” After removing the cum off both of them, Ruby watched Weiss turn to Jaune.

The boy was still catching his breath and couldn’t help but smile sheepishly and in disbelief at the sight of Weiss laying down at waist level. “You’re always so diligent about this. It really is your favorite part.”

“Shut up.” Her bratty tone returned mildly. Weiss pushed her hair out of face and swallowed the dolt’s half erect cock, earning a groan as she began cleaning it off.

Ruby had a better view of it this time. Just how much could her girlfriend make her blush in one day? She was taking Jaune effortlessly and all he could do was help hold her hair and sigh happily. It kinda made her jealous. Weiss must’ve noticed because her eyes opened and looked right at her as if to say, “well?”

Ruby took the subtle sign as an invitation and began crawling towards Jaune’s lap on the other side of him. Weiss quickly made room, sticking towards the tip and top half as Ruby wrapped her lips along the shaft and tasted the mess they made.

“I-I think this is past cleaning off.” Jaune stuttered, watching the girls in a position he never dared to ask for. The flick of Weiss’s tongue along his tip made his erection return in earnest, and prompted the beauty to blow him again. “Ngh, guys I’m already spent!” He moaned, feeling both tongues play with him. Ruby took his free hand and placed it on her head as she looked at him, seeking his attention. Jaune gently rubbed her head and she hummed as she continued playing with his balls. “You two are too much~”

That didn’t sound like a complaint to Weiss. She worked her way down the side of this annoyingly good appendage as Ruby worked her way up, their tongues teasing him all the while. Ruby was even cheeky enough to kiss Weiss from the other side, catching her off guard on the way. She watched Ruby take Jaune about halfway before slowly bobbing her head. The best she could. There was something weirdly cute about seeing Ruby try her best to take him. She had mentioned she wasn’t exactly as great as she liked, but this was Weiss’s first time seeing it.

“Even the top has her struggles.” Weiss laughed to herself. She stopped messing with Jaune and sat up on her knees. “Here.” She held Ruby’s hair properly with both hands. “Relax your jaw, and breathe in through your nose. Take it slowly”

This was karmic justice. Ruby couldn’t help but feel embarrassed being taught how to please like this. Weiss wasn’t even being mean about it but it still felt bad!

“Stop thinking of needless things and focus. Close your eyes if you have to, although you’ll miss some good faces.”

Ruby looked at the way Jaune tried his best to keep calm; his voice slipping out each time she went lower. Ruby did as she was instructed the best she could, relaxing her jaw and taking controlled breaths. She still wasn’t about to compete with Weiss, but she could feel Jaune enter more of her throat than she ever dared to take before.

“Don’t forget your tongue.”

Ruby swirled it around his length, earning a grunt as she continued bobbing her head. How did Weiss do this!? Her jaw was already getting tired. Ruby unfortunately had to come up for proper air. “Gah! Shit, that’s tough.”

“You did pretty well honestly.” Weiss gave Ruby a peck on the cheek before going back to swallowing Jaune, causing him to yelp.

“That’s insane.” Ruby said, unable to comprehend taking it all effortlessly. She could tell Jaune was close, and returned to taking care of his shaft while Weiss went back up top. “He’s gonna blow soon.” Ruby could feel him throb.

Weiss ran her tongue over the tip slowly. “You asking to share?”

“Nah. It’s all yours~”

Weiss flashed an eager glance at Jaune before completely wrapping her lips around the head of his cock, devouring it.”

“Weiss!” He screamed, feeling her suck on it relentlessly. Ruby wasn’t helping the situation! They had him dead to rights, stealing one more orgasm from his body. All he could do is lay back as another wave of clarity washed over him.

Ruby pulled herself off of him and watched Jaune almost deflate. Still, there was a grin of satisfaction on his face. “Wow. I think you might’ve died happily.” She looked to Weiss, who was looking right at her with a rather intimidating glare despite literally swallowing seconds ago. “Ummm, you’re not mad, are you?”

Such a dumb question was answered with a swift karate chop to the forehead, causing Ruby to rub the spot in pain. “Ooowww.” She groaned.

“That’s for brazenly entering my room without permission. You put him up to this, didn’t you? I had errands I wanted to run!”

“Hey, it was his plan!” Ruby defended, until Weiss raised her hand for another chop. “But I did express great interest! I’m sorry! I’ll help with errands tomorrow!!” She said at semblance speed. The answer satisfied Weiss enough to put her hand down. Ruby spoke again with more care. “I’m sorry for being pushy. I’m dumb.”

“Shut up. You’re not dumb.” Weiss folded her arms. “I can’t sit here and act like I hated it or anything. Even so, that was rather sneaky of you. It was embarrassing letting you see me like that?”

“Pfft, why? Weiss, it was embarrassing going on our first date, becoming a throuple, and so on. You know I wasn’t swept with lust when I said I love you, right.”

“Of course I know that! I still have my dignity though.” She blushed deeply. “It’s not easy being that vulnerable. I can barely stand it around that dolt.” She stared at the sleepy blonde. Did she actually knock him out!? “I will tell him off later.”

“Hehe, go easy on the guy. You of all people know I can really sway someone.”

“Unfortunately, I do.” Weiss raised her arms for a big stretch, which gave an opening to give her a warm hug. “Ruby, I’m not mad at you. Stop pouting.”

“I’m giving affirmation. I love getting to know you better; both of you. It might not have been the best way to go about it, but I really liked how intimate this was. I know I should probably feel more guilty, but my heart is happy.”

What the heck was Weiss supposed to say to that!? “Honestly, you’re hopeless.” She hugged Ruby back.

“You definitely caught me by surprise. I knew you were bottom, but man, that well goes deep.” She giggled.

“I will hit you again.” Weiss let go of Ruby. “I don’t want to hear that from the girl who was whimpering like a dog minutes ago.”

“I was not! I was out of breath.” She looked at Jaune. “He surprised me too. I usually lead. This was a nice switch.” Ruby grinned at Weiss. “I guess you’re not the only one with dignity. He tries hard for you ya know? Who wouldn’t for their huge crush.”

Weiss turned away, embarrassed both by the fact and how relatable it was. “I am aware. He’s assertive, but unlike you he has a tad more grace in his approach. Maybe that’s why I can’t help but act differently between you two. He shares my timid nature so I can tell when he’s trying hard.”

“Awww, you love him~” Ruby fell beside Jaune, pulling Weiss along for her to fall on the other side with their hands meeting on his chest. “What do we share?”

“Aside from an overactive mind? An alarming amount of tenacity. Seriously, if he wasn’t tired from work, this could’ve been dire.”

“So what I’m hearing is next time we should plan more accordingly?” Ruby proposed, a twinkle in her eye. “Doesn’t have to be a regular thing but let’s not pretend this wasn’t a good time.”

“Too tired to discuss this now.” Weiss wormed her way under Juana’s arm and rested on his chest, closing her eyes. “Later.”

“Hehe, works for me.” Ruby followed Weiss’s lead, laying happily on Jaune and dozing off. She couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Who knows? Maybe after a good meal, a talk, and a well needed shower, they’d all get lucky again.

[tteokdoroki]

aali it's almost kiss-ur-boss-under-the-mistletoe time again but with katsuki instead this time ehe hope ur doing okay as well <33

seasonal mistletoe !!!!!! I feel like bakugou doesn’t care much about christmas unless it’s for the sake of others?

like his sidekicks and interns at the agency always beg him to decorate, so he lets them. gives them that nice shiny gold black card and says “buy whatever you want. s’on me.” but then instantly regrets the decision because it looks like Santa vomited all over the dynamight agency.

then there’s you, bakugou’s PR manager with your desk tucked away in the corner and he has to profusely apologise because number one hero deku (for that week) managed to convince his interns it was okay to throw dynamight themed tinsel all over your desk and work furniture.

please, katsuki finds himself melting when you dismiss him and laugh — you find it sweet. you didn’t even know grumpy number two dynamight even had a line of Christmas decorations. it makes him blush.

you stand up from your desk and katsuki splutters, tries to find excuses — it’s PR, good for his rep if he’s family festivity friendly and when you laugh again he feels like might explode. especially when you stand only inches away from him now.

“there’s mistletoe too, katsuki,” you hum, teasing your boss lightly. “did you have your poor interns put that there too?”

“put that shit where?” he looks up, panic and slightly pissed at his meddling interns — though it was probably down to that idiot deku.

you roll your eyes in amusement and use the mistletoe as your excuse to stand on your yipeee grab the grumpy blonde pro hero by his shoulders, pressing a slow yet tantalisingly sweet kiss to your boss’ lips. “right here,” you say in a low whisper, angling your head to the other side to continue the kiss.

with a hooded and husky ruby stare, bakugou wastes no more time and delves into the heat of your mouth to complete the mistletoe induced lip lock — grinning proudly against your lips when you whimper against him, swept off your feet by the burly pro hero.

around the corner, izuku midoriya and a hoard of interns watch smugly as katsuki wraps an arm around your waist while he deepens the kiss — knowing their mission was a success.

“cover your eyes kids!” he squeaks, not sure how much longer their mission will stay safe for work.

[slavicnoodle]

How to NOT feed from a giant 101

Shy!Giant x Vampire!fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of imprisoning humans

My first smut! English is not my first language!

MDNI

Kinks: size difference (9 feet giant and you), cunnilingus, p in v, soft femdom, fingers in mouth, giants, edging, forced orgasm, tongue fucking

Living away from civilization where winters span on longer than three months, are so unforgiving that no animal can be seen around would be impossible for a usual creature. Not for a vampire. Just need to lure in travelers with the light coming from your cozy cottage, charm them with your vampiric beauty while they think you're just a pretty human woman and end up with a blood supply for a good while until new one comes.

Mordechai was another of your victims. Poor guy got lost from his clan of giants in the snowstorm. The wind was pushing snowflakes in his eyes, paradoxically burning them. The snow he was walking through kept falling inside his boots, melting and freezing and worsening his mood that is also at its cold breaking point. But the faint yellow glow he could see through his squinting kept him on his feet. When he finally managed to stand in front of the door, he didn't even have to knock and they opened, revealing a cute little human looking up at his bundled form. "Come on in! Don't stand there!" You pulled him inside. He would bonk his head against the doorframe if he didn't react fast enough. Your humble abode was not made for his stature of estimately nine feet. "I hope I'm not intruding. I only need to wait out the snowstorm. I really don't want to intrude..." Mordechai shyly stands where you pulled him in, not daring to move to accidentally break anything of yours. "Awwww, so careful! Just sit down. I won't mind if you stay, I'd like some company," you reassured him, trying to take off his coat but since he's about nine feet tall you ended up jumping around him, tugging at his sleeves like some puppy. He noticed your struggle. "Oh, I apologize, I'll take it off... and my shoes," he muttered, shedding his outer layers and squelching boots. "My name is Mordechai. And yours?"

You had your eyes on him since you saw him through the window. His big body would keep you sustained for a looooong time. And also as an eye candy. He has long, dark blue, wavy hair that reaches his waist and red eyes like rubies. They would seem intimidating on anyone else, but on him they are so gentle. His bushy eyebrows downturned, lips too, like a polite yet anxious child. He even has chubby cheeks! So cute! His body on the other hand... He's big. In every aspect. Not just as a giant. But as a man. Your eyes got stuck on his pecs straining his shirt, the buttons fighting for their life. Then glanced south. Yup. The way to the shy giant's blood is going to be through his dick.

Normally you tie your victims up and keep them barely alive in your basement. But he's too strong. You needed to make him compliant. Thankfully he seemed like a kind man. That should be easy.. You showed him the peak of your hospitality, brought out a whole feast, rearranged your whole room to make space for the makeshift couch-matress-blankets bed that could support his body. He helped, of course. All polite and blushing whenever you just as much as brushed your fingers against his. When the time to go to sleep came, he still didn't make any move. Lying on the bed as still as he could, offering to sleep on the floor. Anything to not be a burden.

That won't do. He is either too gentlemanly, unsure by the height difference or just a virgin. Either way you somehow have to make him want to fuck. Have to take the matter in your own hands. "I'll put a cup of water on the nighstand in case you get thirsty at night," you chirped, scurrying towards your guest who had sat up on the makeshift bed, tripping against his foot and pouring the water on him and mainly on the crotch of his pants. "I'm so sorry! I'll clean it up!" You squeaked in fake panic, grabbing a handkerchief to pat the stain dry. The moment you did touch his buldge, Mordechai grabbed your hand, pulling you away. Now his ears joined his cheeks that nicely complimented his eyes. "I'll go change," he says before hurrying to the little bathroom of yours. After few minutes he peeked out, still red in face and asks in a tiny voice: "Do you have any blankets I could wrap around myself?"

"Sorry, but I used them all on the bed," you rubbed your neck sheepishly. A lie. "But I won't mind if you were bare. I can blow out the candles. We are going to sleep anyways. No need for a light," you offered generously. The truth is that vampires can see clearly in the dark so you still could have clear view of your guest's physique to try another attempt to seduce him.

"I see... I'll take you up on that. Can you blow them out then, please?" He asked shyly. And when the room was covered by the darkness, he got out, shuffling slowly to the bed, crouching, arms spread in front of him to not bump into anything. Yet he still knocked something off. Or someone. Someone who oh, so conveniently got in his way. Mordechai yelped, reaching out for you to steady you, but out of sheer panic ended up pulling you to his torso. "Are you okay?!" The poor giant looked down through the dark on the more darker blob that was you, patting you with his hands all over to check for any injuries. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm okay. Though I may have a bruise," you whined. "From what?! Where?" He looks horrified. He didn't mean to! Stupid giant body!

"From this," your tone turned teasing and he can hear your grin in it as you touched his dick. Mordechai gasped. He forgot he's naked and hard, out of concern for your well-being. "I-I'm sorry! I-I'll sleep on the floor! Please don't kick me out! I-It's not because of you!" Poor guy sounded like he was on the verge of crying. His bottom lip wobbled and steped back, ashamed and covering his erection. "Not because of me?" You ask, trying your best to sound sad. "I-I don't mean-! You're not ugly! Not at all! J-just...!" He turned into a stammering mess. Giants are intimidating race with quick tempers. But this one is just a puppy. He's smaller than his kin who reach twelve feet. Maybe he's a runt? Is that why he's so shy? Maybe you should be a bit kinder too. The teasing was obviously stressing him and not bringing him or you closer to your goal.

You took a deep breath and said: "I'm just teasing, sweetheart. Come sit down." You patted the spot on the bed next to you. Mordechai thought for a while before doing as you said. "Does it hurt anywhere?" You asked, looking him over. No wounds, only kilos of juicy meat in front of you. "No," he mumbled. " "And what about that problem? Do you need help?" You asked instead. The flush traveled down his neck. He is like a tomato. A bit lower and two massive tomatoes would-

"I-It's okay. I'll just sleep it off...," the guy looked at his hands, avoiding eye contact.

"I insist. It is me who ruined your clothes and made you uncomfortable-" He interrupted you: "You didn't! I am just not used to anyone touching my...," trailed off and gulps. Too shy to say it.

"Dick?"

"Don't say it!" He yelled, covering your mouth. And face. You gently pried his fingers off. "Don't be shy. As I said, I don't mind you being naked," you softly kissed his fingers, making sure to not reveal your fangs. His breath hitched, getting quiet, just watching you. So kisses are the way. Noted. You travelled up with your kisses and when you got to his shoulder, you were already pushing him gently down on his back. "Just lie back and enjoy," you giggled, loving his puppy eyes that look up at you in a silent plea. "Have you kissed anyone?" The question escaped your mouth while it hovered centimeters from his. He nodded shakily. "Good. Don't eat my face then," you joked before leaning down. It is kinda hard to kiss someone whose open mouth can almost fully envelope your head. But you two managed to find some gentle rhythm. His tongue was not choking you anymore and you licked it back, making Mordechai groan. Such a sensitive guy... After few minutes he pulled you away to catch a breath and you seized the opportunity to bury your face in his chest. It's so soft and big. You grab full handfuls and whined in happiness. "You have great tits."

"Those are pecs," he muttered, watching you curiously. "Do you... like them?"

"What do you think?" You answered his question with another question and a flick to his nipple, making him whimper. "You do," answered himself shyly, whimpering softly as you play with his stiffening nipples. When you starter sucking, his whole body arched, almost throwing you off. You just just managed to hold on, with mouth full, keeping your firm ministrations on his hard bud. "P-please, my other one," he begged, taking your hand and putting it over his other nipple. You pinch and flicker it to match the movements of your tongue, making him tremble under you until he's covering his face with his hands and loudly whimpering. Soon he pulled you off of his chest like a kitten. "That... That's enough," panted, looking positively sweaty and embarrassed again. "Is something wrong? Did I do something?" You asked, not wanting him to be uncomfortable again. He enjoyed it, right? Why is he like that then... oh.

You could see his belly painted in white spurts. "Did you-," you started and he again shuts you up. But now with fingers in your mouth. Your eyes widened. You couldn't let him feel your fangs and realize what you are. So you started sucking and licking, keeping teeth away. The giant wiggled his fingers, playing with your tiny tongue. He looks a bit more confident now. "Shush. Now it's your turn," he muttered breathlessly and with free hand carefully stripped you down. Thankfully, you did not have any buttons, only knots. He'd rip them out with his undelicate hands. His lips parted when he saw your naked form. His eyes have had adapted to the dark, so he could see a bit more clearly. Not as good as you, but something.

"You're so pretty," he let his hand roam over your figure and then pulled you by the ankle towards him. His face to be specific. "Going to return the favour," he mumbled before lying you on his chest and diving in. You could not get a word in since he still had fingers your mouth. You don't need this! You need to make him cum to drink his blood! He won't feel a thing and you can just use sex as an excuse to feed! But maybe you'll wait for a bit. His tongue was wider and longer than anything you felt before, licking your slit in slow strokes. It felt good. And by the sight of his dick behind your head slowly getting up, he enjoyed it too. He looked at you from between your legs he was carefully pinning to your chest and engulfed your whole pussy in his mouth, sucking. You let out a choked yelp and his eyes crinkled. So he can tease too. He sucked your delicate flesh with abandon, the strenght of the suction making you feel like your clitoris will be ripped off, but his tongue kept it attached to your body, soothing it in maddening pain-pleasure combo that made your toes curl and squirm. He kept doing it until gushes of juices started to escape from your pussy, slurping them eagerly. When you thought your orgasm started subsiding, he squeezed his tongue in your still pulsing channel, making you cum again with a scream. He pulled out his glistening fingers from your mouth just in time to be able to hear it. You crouched forward to grab his hair and push your hips more against his face and he let you. Grunting in what was probably approval while he wiggled his tongue inside you, until you fell limp back on his cum stained belly, twitching.

"Are you already satisfied?" He sat up, scooping you in his arms. He's once again sweet, kissing the top of your head. He wiped the cum from his belly with a single digit and stuffed it in your mouth. You take it back. He still has a backbone. You looked up at him with a pout, cleaning his finger. "Good girl," he giggled. You blush. Damn him. Why is he affecting you so much?! Damned soft boy. In and out. You need to take control. So you pushed him again on his back. "Shush," you huffed, scooting back to rub against his dick. He hissed and shuts up. You watched closely how he bit his lip to stifle the whimpers escaping his mouth. You continued to rub your genitals together, mixing his precum with your juices. His dick is massive by human standarts. Thick all the way with no curve. And the tip, too. It's quite pale like the rest of him but had flushed pretty pink. "Pretty dick," you glanced at him to catch his reaction. And reaction it is. He also gets flushed pink and covered his face. Awwww.

You grinned and began to position yourself above his cockhead, letting it part your lips, preparing for putting it in. You should be thankful for him eating you out since he loosened you up nicely. Not enough though. It's still going to be a tight fit. Thankfully you're a vampire with immediate regeneration. Even if you tear, it heal instantly. The pain should be minimal and is worth the blood. You're the only one except his kin who can take his dick. "Such a sweetheart. So cute when blushing," You cooed at him, then started to tease the tip. Only the tip. In. And out. In. And out. He was twitching everytime it got just a bit of fricton and after few minutes of the pleasurably agonizing edging he looked at you with puppy eyes, tearing up. "Please, put it in," begged, shakily wrapping his hand around your waist to push you down, yet keeping still. "Sure, be patient," you patted the hand and start to lower yourself inch by agonizing inch. Every nerve in your gummy walls was screaming and you were feeling mikrotears forming and healing up. Few tears brimmed in your eyes. He better be damn tasty after this. He firmly held you, not pushing you down but not allowing you up. So you descended a bit faster than you thought, your pussy meeting his base, your asscheeks sitting on his sack and your clitoris buried in his coarse bush, making you whimper. You could see the buldge of his dick in your belly and he squeezed your waist, making it touch your every nerve, resulting in you cumming out of nowhere once again, all over his cock. Atleast you're not alone cause he came right after you, the feeling of your gummy walls gripping and massaging him was simply too much. Hot ropes of cum filled your undead womb and spill out from the sheer amount he was shooting. You two calmed down in few minutes. "Sorry, you felt too good."

"Its okay. Just cum again," you muttered. It is his second orgasm and you still didn't manage to drink from him. You're getting desperate. Who knows how much he can cum. This could be your last chance. So you started moving, the cum providing additional lubrication, making it easier to set a fast rhytm. Mordechai whimpered, his soft dick still inside you hardening for the third time. "Ah! Not so fast!" He begged yet helped you keep the rhytm with his hand around your waist. "Kiss me," you whispered. You need to get close to his neck.

He obliged, crouching down to kiss you. Your free hands reached his pecs again and pinched his nipples, making him moan in your mouth. "Keep going. Want to cum on you," whinedcin the kiss. Driven by the promise of him cumming, your tiny fingers tugged at his stiff peaks roughly and soon you felt him on the verge of cumming, breathing heavily and dick twitching. So you pulled away from the kiss and latched onto his neck, kissing him hungrily. Which you are. And just when he finally groaned as another burst of cum exploded in your pussy, you sunk your teeth in his neck, gulping moutful of blood.

But you were ripped away as he immediately lifted you off of his dick and put in the way of his shooting cum, painting your hungry stomach white like he wanted to. "Twins," he smiled, not feeling your bitemark at all. He cadled you tightly in his warm arms, lied down with you under blanket, looking happy and satisfied. You on the other hand have your lips stained with his blood and are pissed off.

Next time you will drink from his dick while sucking it.

Words: over 2,700

[theeternalbanquett]

Crystalline Scars

The Witch cocked her head to the side, unsure if she should get involved.

A Doll knelt in the middle of the road. Perfectly Still, serene as can be. It didn't react to the honking and swerving of cars around it.

An unusual sight, for sure.

Well there has to be a reason. Either way it's not my problem.

She turned to leave.

A thunderous crash. A sickening shattering noise. The silent screams of a Doll who can only remain frozen in place as its body is crushed into a fine powder between two metal beasts.

She whirled back towards the road and ran towards the accident.

Oh thank goodness it's not as bad as I thought. She lifted what was left of it into her arms

The Doll was in poor shape, but it wasn't completely destroyed like she assumed. It was missing both of its lower legs and half its torso, but the core was intact. It could be rebuilt.

It was a Beautiful thing, made up of emerald, ruby, and sapphire held together in a golden wire frame. Gently pulsating with golden light. The prettiest heartbeat she ever had the pleasure of seeing.

"...please leave this one here."

She forced herself to look away from the transfixing light. "What? No. Where's that ones witch?"

"Miss told this to kneel here and not move until she gets back. This one will already be in trouble for being broken."

Her hands clenched in barely restrained anger. She had heard of these kinds of witches before, those who treat their Dolls in horrific ways. Like less than the dirt beneath their feet. Toys to be played with until they shatter and break.

Some Witches don't deserve Dolls.

"I'm not going to leave that one in the street" Seeing the Doll start to protest she cut it off "I'm not listening to any argument that one might make, the witch is going to find any excuse to be angry at it until it sits there and dies quietly. If that is what it wants then I will put it down right now, but it has to look me in the eyes and tell me it wants to die today. I'll at least do it courtesy of making it quick and painless. "

It's silver eyes looked away for a moment, then it shook its head.

"no" it said softly "this one does not want to die today."

"Good. Now tell me where I can find that ones witch

----

The Witch was satisfied.

With more than a few threats the Dolls ownership was transferred over to her. She'd be sure to put in a report tomorrow with a recommendation that the other witch be restricted from doll ownership in the future. It won't do much but at least there'll be a record of what happened today. For now though..

"How are those parts holding up?" The Doll had some spares from its old mistress attached before they left. Nothing permanent by any means, just barely good enough to make it home on. She wouldn't be surprised if that witch grabbed the worst ones out of spite.

"They're holding Miss. This one estimates another hour or two before the temporary enchantments fail"

"Good thing we're here then."

She stopped in front of a brick townhouse. The front door swung open with a gesture and she strode across the threshold. The Doll did not follow.

"It can come in, it's that ones home too now."

The Doll lit up when she said that, its core shining through its blouse.

Gods what did she do to it? For it to be that easy to bring it extreme happiness..

It walked it and shut the door behind it. Then it waited expectantly.

"Yes?"

"this one is waiting."

"What for? It can do what it wants." She never owned a Doll before, never saw any need for one. Unfortunately that meant she didn't know what to do really with the Doll in front of her.

It struggled for a moment, clearly looking conflicted, so she suppressed a sigh and said "That one can draw the both of us a bath, we need to clean off all debris anyway before I do the Regrowth spell."

It beamed at her again, then awkwardly shuffled towards the room she had indicated while speaking.

Yeah those legs are intentionally the wrong size.

She grabbed towels out of the linen closet in the hall then followed it in.

---

The tub was closed to a smaller sized hot tub, and set into the ground. The walls were a gentle purple, with a flowing mural that bled into the floor. The Doll was fidgeting, but the hot water was running as she asked.

"I appreciate that one for getting things ready, thanks for being a good doll." It flinched as she patted it on the head but relaxed into the touch once nothing else happened.

"this one didn't do anything.. it was already on and running ..."

Oh. She had forgotten about that spell. "The House likes to be helpful too. That one did well by waiting here for me. " The Doll didn't seem convinced it wasn't in trouble but it nodded anyway.

She started to undress herself but partway through The Doll took over. She let it, then got into the bath.

She had to tell The Doll it was okay to bathe at the same time as her, and as The Doll undressed then got into the water she noticed a faint glimmering in the porcelain torso of its body. "May I?" She wanted a closer look.

It nodded, and obliged her.

She stared at it for a while before it clicked. "Oh Gods..."

It was an ultra fine webbing of cracks that radiated out from its back throughout the entirety of its remaining body. As if instead of using Regrowth it's previous witch decided to painstakingly put each piece back into place by hand before using some sort of crystal to hold the pieces together.

It had to have been an extraordinarily painful process. It must still be so, so painful. It was only partially sealed, each countless edge had to feel like a raw wound being scraped against a rock over and over and over again..

She took a deep breath, attempting to leash her anger before she scared The Doll with the force of it. "I can fix this if that one wants to live without it." She lightly traced the largest of the cracks, likely made worse by the impact of the car earlier. A blue light followed her touch "However I won't make that choice for it, and I'll always be available to remove this if that one decides it wants these gone."

It shivered at her touch, and shook its head. Good, it doesn't seem as afraid of me anymore.

"I understand." She dropped her hand "Well, let's get it ready for Regrowth."

She started by sitting The Doll down on the ledge in the tub, then removed its legs. Next she managed to work the patched sections of the torso out, exposing the core of The Doll once again. The water scattered the gentle pulse of the light from its core, and like earlier The Witch almost lost herself in the Beauty of it.

She tore her eyes away from it and focused on getting the grime out of the internals. It looked like the previous witch never bothered, you could see shards of broken porcelain on the inside of its chest cavity sticking to various unknown substances.

For the third time tonight she found herself wishing violence upon the previous witch.

The Doll was locked in place as she worked, its eyes closed. The only thing betraying its nervousness was the increasingly quick pulses of light radiating from its core.

And then, she was done.

"The hard part is over now. Don't panic."

She stood up and muttered under her breath for a moment. The Doll floated gently upwards, then rotated until it looked like it was laying on an invisible table above the bathing pool.

Its eyes were wide, but it did not panic.

The Witch smiled and patted its head again. "That one is being so brave." She closed her eyes and Called porcelain and all of her gemstones from her storage.

Her Doll was going to have a Beautiful Vessel to match its Core

---

True to her word she didn't get rid of the cracks.

The Doll stood in front of the bathroom mirror, gazing in wonder at the new Vessel it has been given.

The cracks still spider webbed out, but now they were properly inlaid with sapphire. It was no longer agonizing to move.

Its chest was embedded with rubies, yellow topaz, and emerald in the shape of a heart.

Its legs also now had bands of topaz running up them, its hands and arms had ruby shards embedded so that it sparkled in the light.

It was a walking piece of art. Its happiness would make all of the gems within it glow, sometimes blindingly so.

It truly was Beautiful now.

And its Witch refused to let it forget that.

[searchingforserendipity25]

Just Before Spring. On Ao3.

The way Aldo went on about it, one would think St. Valentine had gone and gotten decapitated on his birthday specifically to spite him, several centuries in advance.

"The poor fellow," Thomas chided lightly, not for the first time. His voice did not carry far, and did not need to, over their small table. The window beside Aldo gave them Rome, enough of a view to threaten rain and bad traffic. "I know it is inconvenient, Aldo, but he was a martyr, and a miraculous healer besides."

 He had fished out his glasses, and was peering down at the wine menu. It was sweet of him to put up the show, when they both knew they would end up skipping the good ones for their usual dizzying saccharine rosé.

"The poor fellow has a dozen little chapels all over the world with his metacarpals wrapped up in gold and studded with rubies," Aldo said. "Is it too much to ask for? All I want is a nice birthday dinner with a dear friend, nothing much. It’s the same problem every year. It is my birthday, I am allowed to kvetch.”

He had been lucky, he knew; all his other siblings had been named for the saint's feast day on which they had been born. 

Not Aldo; his parents had taken pity on him. Bad enough all the inevitable fuss, and the unfortunate childhood anguish around valentine cards, the having and the not-having of boyish signatures. The seminary had been a relief, in that regard. No expectation of romance now, and so much the better. Whatever there was of it, for him, was not the saintly kind.

Thomas did not count. Even miraculous St. Valentine, wise in the many iterations of love, wouldn't know what to do with the two of them.

“Always, dear,” Thomas agreed. He smiled over his frames at him, eyes gleaming in the familiar flickering light. Aldo reminded himself: nothing votive, no devotional turn of the heart. “I wouldn’t dream of stopping you. "But you have to admit the couple's discounts are quite reasonable. Split up a fish course, and then a steak?

Aldo set down a focaccia slice and displaced the ostentatious floral display between them, to better spy what the table behind Thomas was ordering. 

"Make it bass with the house sauce and all the pairing, it’s looking good. Let's go crazy, it's not Lent yet."

Around them: other small round tables, voices tilted close for intimacy. The candle smoke really was quite heavy.

By the end of the night it would linger on Aldo's lapels, his hair, very noticeable when they walked arm-in-arm down to the Apostolic Palace, up and down the slick cobblestones, avoiding rain in some awning or another, talking the night through. Every year, another year older. 

The lighting was too warm; someone had thought it a tasteful idea to order red candles. A Pavlovian instinct to think votive thoughts asserted itself.  Aldo did not pray much to his patron saint. Aider of unlikely lovers, the poor fellow was busy enough most of the time, and more so on this day; Aldo had left him to it, besides a few timely reminders.

Aldo Cardinal Bellini prayed in his heart, not for the first time either, Don't go getting ideas, Valentine, this here doesn't count.

Not the marrying kind, Aldo Bellini. That had been clear enough all his life. 

He wouldn't have been, even if he had not followed his calling and been ordained, and lived to trade cards with men grown into their years. Long ago Monsignor Lawrence and his good memory for personal reports and relevant birthday details had surprised him with a gift of a dinner reservation on the day he liked to pretend was not his. Aldo had known, sure enough; he wouldn't be the kind to bother St. Valentine for any other sort of candle light again, if he could have many small feasts like this instead.

“Cheers,” Thomas said. He gave up on the pretense, and closed the menu, unfolded his napkin. His feet beneath the table nudged Aldo’s, teasing, like a brother or a lover or an old spouse. It was Aldo's birthday; he was allowed to decide on fish and meat and full pairings, with dessert to follow, and that the the distinctions between loves did not much matter.

"Cheers," Aldo said, and kicked him back, gently, to make him smile. “Rosé?”

[howlingday]

I freaking love alabastards so much! Its like vol 1 Weiss and Jaune who got tired of taking shit for being too nice!

I so need more!

Would it be too much to ask for Alabastards on winter break or something?

"Hello, Arc."

"Weiss."

"How is your winter break?"

"Good. Yours?"

"My winter break is also going well." Weiss turned away. "Not that you'd know anything about proper grammar anyways."

"Oh, really? Is that because I'm too poor to talk good, or is it because you're so bad at being a good person you have to make up for it?"

"Bite me, Arc."

"Make me, Schnee."

The two sneered at each other until they noticed they were getting looks from their teams. Reeling back, the two parted. How and why the two were always found at odds, no one was truly certain. Maybe one had said something to offend the other, or perhaps there was a meeting they had before Beacon that soured their relationship long before it could begin? It was difficult to say.

Regardless, today was Non-Descript Winter Holiday and the two had promised to bury the hatchet, if only for the day. Weiss had bought gifts for each of her friends on Team JNPR, and Jaune, while Jaune used his skills to craft personal gifts for his friends on Team RWBY, and Weiss. As the two sat down with their friends, gifts were exchanged between each of them.

Weiss gifted Pyrrha jacket with a liner, both skillfully embroidered with her name. Nora got a quirky device that allowed her poor syrup through a glass tube onto her pancakes, like some kind of breakfast alchemist. Ren received a new apron to wear should his other need to be washed, this one featuring the words "I'm Not On The Menu". Jaune didn't open his gift.

"And why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

"Excuse me?"

"Knowing you, you probably put a cheap gag gift in here to spite me."

"Do you really think so low of me?"

"Do you?"

"...Fine. Then I refuse to open mine."

"Fine by me."

The rest of the party sighed, choosing to move on to other gifts. Jaune's gifts were hand-crafted with love... or friendship, if love was too much of a stretch. Yang got a bag for her boxing gloves that had "Chorld Wamp" stitched into them, making her giggle. Blake was given a couple sheets of paper with personal poems written front and back, some in haiku. Ruby got a coffee mug cozy, yarned and darned with black and red. Weiss, much like Jaune, refused to open hers.

"I don't care."

"Neither do I."

"I'll just open mine later."

"Or never." She scowled at her gift in disgust. "Knowing you, you probably put something disgusting in here, like a photo of yourself."

"Ha ha." Jaune groaned, standing up. "I'm going to call it a night."

"Oh, did I hurt your feelings by not opening your shitty gift?"

"No, I'm just tired. Not everything is about you, Weiss." Before Weiss could retort, Jaune had already left out of the room, gift in hand.

"Weiss, that was really mean." Ruby whined.

"Very mean." Pyrrha added. "You were both supposed to not be hostile this evening."

"Why am I the bad guy?" Weiss gestured to where her foe made his exit. "He was ruder than I ever was!"

"You were both rude." Yang answered, pointing a finger at the heiress. "You both promised to play nice during winter break, and you both broke that promise on the most important day of the entire break. You ruined it for everyone."

"I did not ruin Non-Decript Winter Holiday." Weiss rolled her eyes. "He ruined it."

"I'm gonna hit her." Nora said.

"Please don't." Ren replied.

"The least you could do is open his gift." Blake offered.

"It it'll make you guys feel better, then fine!" Weiss opened her present. "But do you really think anything he got me will make me say... Oh my god..."

--------------------------------------------------

Jaune held his present in his hand, fully unwrapped and, begrudgingly, impressed. Inside the box was a camera. High quality, too. He fiddled with the buttons, the zoom, the lighting, the timer. Everything was so smooth and easy to play with. He didn't want to admit, but this was probably the best gift he'd ever.

"Jaune, open up." Jaune looked up to the knocking at his door. Opening it, he found Weiss holding his gift to her. "What the hell is this?"

"Your present." Jaune answered, making Weiss scowl.

"You know what I meant." She shoved past him and set the binder on his desk, pushing the gift box to the side. The binder was pure white and decorated with a single sticker of Beacon Tower, something purchased in the school store as a memento. Opening the binder and flipping through the pages, each of which were decorated with printed photos from Jaune's scroll. "You have every single person we've known in this binder."

"Yeah?" Jaune said with a raised brow. "That's how photo albums work, don't they?"

"Everyone we've known EXCEPT for the two of us! Why?"

Jaune blinked, looking at her like she'd suddenly turned into a creature of Grimm. "Because you hate me?"

"I don't- I never-" She groaned. "Just because I don't like you doesn't mean I hate you."

"No," Jaune agreed, "but you insulting me at every turn and being an overall bitch to me does."

"Only because you're an asshole to me." Weiss growled before sighing. "Look. Here's what's going to happen. We are going to fix this. You are going to take a picture of us and put it in this binder."

"Why should I listen to you?"

"Because if you don't, I'm going to kick your ass before the others do."

"The others?" Jaune blinked. "Why are they going to kick my ass?"

"Because they think we ruined the winter break for them."

Jaune was quiet for a moment. "I mean, we did."

"Yes, we did, and exactly the point. So take that fancy camera I got you and take my pic-" CLICK! Weiss blinked a couple of times as her vision was still blurred from the sudden flash. "Argh! You asshole!"

"What? I took your picture." Jaune showed off the photo on his camera with a shit-eating grin. "See?"

"Delete that." Weiss ordered.

"No." Jaune refused without dropping his smile.

Weiss opened her mouth to say something, then heaved a sigh. "Fine. Just... don't do anything weird with it. That's all I ask."

"Okay?" Jaune looked to his camera and pressed a button. "There, I deleted it."

"Oh." Weiss then watched Jaune turn on the light and pulled the chair to the center of the room. "What are you doing?"

"Setting up the shot." Jaune said off-handedly. "You want our picture taken, right?"

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts, except yours in this chair." Jaune chuckled.

"Ugh, you're worse than Xiao Long." She seated herself in the chair.

"I doubt it." Jaune lifted and lowered the camera repeatedly while crouched next to the desk before he grabbed a textbook and set the camera on top of it. "Okay..." He ran up to Weiss, taking place behind her. "Smile."

"Why?"

"It's your picture."

"Are you smiling?"

"Yeah."

"Bull."

"I am."

"...Fine." Weiss smiled and the camera flashed as she did. Jaune ran up to the camera and looked it over. He grinned. "What?"

"Nothing. I just look really good in this."

"Let me see." Weiss looked at the photo and immediately frowned. "You made a stupid face."

"I was smiling."

"You were making a stupid face while smiling."

"Well, do you want to take another one?"

Weiss thought for a moment, then nodded. "No stupid pictures this time."

--------------------------------------------------

Weiss opened her photo album, much time had passed since she'd opened it. Many more memories were captured in time and held in place right there inside her book. Her favorite page was the one with all of her favorite photos. The ones filled with her making goofy faces with her husband, Jaune Arc.

Happy Non-Descript Winter Holiday

[midnightcandygoblin]

My WoF Arc 4 Theories/Predictions so I can say "I called it" when my time comes

I'll probably be editing this with more later btw

Beryl (he/him, mother of Mulberry) will be a gray area parent. Not great like Ruby or Thorn, but not horrible like Scarlet or Cadelle

Umber and the hybrid prince are gay and dating. Or it could be a slow-burn

The hybrid prince is half Skywing and half Rainwing, makes sense because of the fruit name. Or alternatively Sky-Leafwing!

Peril and Sky meet and they were set up by friends to meet and now they're over sharing with each other and they FINALLY get to the conclusion of "So. I think we're siblings." and Kinkajou or Moon or Snowfall or Lynx pops out of a bush behind them like "YOU FINALLY FIGURED IT OUT. CONGRATS."

Queen Coral gets another husband so she can have new heirs bc let's be honest Tsunami and Anemone aren't that great of candidates for the throne and who knows what Auklet is gonna be like. or maybe she just found a new love, idk <-Not sure if that can happen because there may be a limit as to how many heirs a tribe can have

I forgot the names of the characters but the Silkwing and their Hivewing partner will be on that new island

Also the Leafwing and her Silkwing partner, they will be there too

NEW TRIBE!! The Webclaws, a wingless tribe that they theorize is related to the Silkwings for their web-spinning abilities and they are natives (or at least the oldest dragon tribe) on that new island

More queer characters! yippee!

Less scavengers please (or humans, whatever. I enjoyed Dragonslayer, but no more please. I rlly love the dragons :(( my shaylas)

Chameleon makes a comeback. he is called an "arrogant slime weasel" (he is) and then his papers are taken away from him for good 😌 Sky meets him

Sora!! Sora, my girl, I don't really have any theories for what role she will play, but SORA!! I love her sm

More of Cobra Lily PLEASE I'M BEGGING SHE'S SO ICONIC AND WE ONLY HAD HER FOR 8 SECONDS

If there is a time skip, then I assume that some of the DoD might have their own dragonets (clerilclerilclerilclerilclerilcle)

Starflight and Fatespeaker are official!

Sunny does not get a love interest Tui takes it back, Sunny is aroace 🔪fight me

Also it will be clarified that while Fatespeaker cannot see the future she has a tiny little bit of mind reading capabilities and can mostly sense what others are feeling like intensely :))

tsunami learns aquatic!! tsunami bonds with her brothers!! tsunami appreciates sunny!

moonbli breakup, qinter canon :(( pls they had so much more chemistry. do not put my girl moon into a love triangle! book 10 epilogue isn't real!

More Anemone and Tamarin <3

More Pineapple and Jambu <3

More Snowfall and Lynx <3

Queen Snowfall goes with the main characters to the new island and finds her older sister there with her Mudwing boyfriend

If it's a MAJOR time skip then one of Starflight's nieces or nephews has the gift of prophecy and makes this new prophecy

if not, then it's Moon again my poor girl 😭 she cannot catch a break

Tsunami is NOT an asshole about the prophecy bc she is better and will not complain when Moon (or someone else) has a prophecy that they cannot help. woman up, tsunami.

plot twist: They find something in the old Nightwing kingdom (queendom?) that is related to prophecy business and it was foreseen 2 thousand years ago but it will happen now. maybe left by clearsight? or whiteout, since she foresaw what would happen to Darkstalker ("Only one of us will [see mother], depending on who loses the future.")

Fierceteeth is the new Nightwing queen

New Mudwing queen? I'm just saying Queen Moorhen has been around for a while . . .

Lady Jewel becomes Queen Jewel, Wasp is thrown in a dungeon or killed

New Silkwing queen!! Luna? One of her mothers? Or maybe king? Blue? A Chrysalis leader?

The flamesilks . . . uh . . . where are they again? Are they still in the warehouse or did they escape? That gets clarification

If there is a new tribe, then Moon (or another mind reader) has to try using her (his/their/its) mind reading abilities to see if that will help them communicate with each other bc the new tribe might not speak Dragon

smth smth smth leafspeak is used for communication?

Umber is a linguist?? He learns their language quickly?? He translates?? that's how the romance between him and Mulberry starts???

Or the Hybrid prince is half whatever-Beryl-is and half-the-other-tribe and he translates for everyone (me too bro)

The next main cast is Umber, another Seawing royal brother, Mulberry, someone we've had as a POV before (Snowfall? Peril?), Cliff, a hybrid (heck, maybe even Typhoon? I can't remember if that was her name exactly but the Ice-Seawing, it was smth like Typhoon??) and/or a completely new character (<- basically a guarantee)

The average Rainwing can read!

Peacemaker is a chill guy. Darkstalker is gone forever. please

Hope drops some more lore about the past

Another Mudwing character hatched from a blood-red egg

Honestly I'll just be happy if Clay gets some screen(page?)time

More ghost stories (Not necessarily Animus ghost stories)

Someone with Animus powers, firescales, mind reading, foresight, royal blood, and/or a lack of defense (missing a barbed tail as a Sandwing or not having frost breath as an Icewing for example)

More hybrids!

What happened to the other Talons? I know it had some elaboration but STILL

Beryl himself is a hybrid (of what idk) Edits:

I JUST REREAD DRAGONSLAYER AND I FORGOT IT HAD A CLIFFHANGER. UNDAUNTABLE AND HIS FATHER THE LORD OF WHATEVER MAKE A COMEBACK. NEW VILLAIN?? ANOTHER HUMAN VILLAIN?????

More scavengers like Wren on that new island, a win for the bilinguals!! even if the bilingualism was badly written in Dragonslayer . . .

A romance that's actually well-written

Non-binary dragon

Transgender dragon

One of the main couples break up. for the plot (for drama Feel free to add more in the replies/reblogs/tags!

[nyoomerr]

Only if you want but phantom thief! Binghe x rich boy Shen Yuan, heir to a famous jeweler/jewerly store business.

It can be Bingge or Binghe, whatever you want! Love your work!

dont mind me using this as a sort-of warm up for writing a much bigger bingge pov binggeyuan thing ehehe 😌 ty for sending this prompt in!

---

Luo Binghe does not get caught. It’s in his title, even - a phantom thief, completely untouchable. 

Well, perhaps not completely untouchable. After all, many times the most efficient way to get his hands on a particularly valuable set of jewelry is to let the lady wearing it put her hands on him. Flirtations and bold fondling in a dark corner of a party, hands on the woman’s face and shoulders and the diamond necklace around her neck -

Normal things for someone in Luo Binghe’s line of work, really, when that someone looks the way Luo Binghe does. Charm is as indispensable a tool as a lockpick. 

It’s only a tool that Luo Binghe dares to use when he knows it will be well received, though. Unwelcome advances are more likely to get a mark to grow more defensive on all lines, not just towards sexual advances, and then the whole job gets more difficult. Still not impossible - not for Luo Binghe - but Luo Binghe has a messy habit of turning theft into murder when he’s faced with rejection. 

It isn’t his fault. The people who turn Luo Binghe away - who look at him with cold disinterest and disgusted sneers plastered across their ugly, painted faces - they deserve to die. Luo Binghe is only doing the world a service.

Still, the cleanup becomes much more difficult when Luo Binghe’s mouth is stained with blood rather than smeared lipstick, so he learns to assess his marks carefully. Those that would think themselves clever and better than Luo Binghe get stolen from in the traditional sense, and they never see Luo Binghe during the process.

Shen Yuan is one such mark. Oh, Luo Binghe could break him in, probably - he watches from a distance as Shen Yuan’s eyes linger on the strong forearms of the barista who hands him his coffee, and he knows without testing that Luo Binghe could fluster such a small thing like Shen Yuan without much effort. 

To actually touch Shen Yuan, however, would be far more difficult. Luo Binghe knows this much from even the most basic of background searches: Shen Yuan takes pretty girls to banquets despite never touching them, and the way he dresses… yes, Shen Yuan certainly would like to think of himself as a straight man, the poor thing. Not the sort of nut Luo Binghe cares to crack when it’s for business rather than pleasure.

Besides, most of Shen Yuan’s valuables are kept in his family’s home. The pretty things Luo Binghe could nick off Shen Yuan’s person are limited and hardly the most enticing of Shen Yuan’s things, so there’s no need to push it.

Shen Yuan will simply be the sort of mark that never sees Luo Binghe, never gets close enough to touch.

That’s the sort of mark Shen Yuan is supposed to be.

“Um,” Shen Yuan says, standing awkwardly in the doorway of the very high security office that Luo Binghe has just broken into. “Can I, um. Help you…?”

Luo Binghe stares at him. He’s just finished picking the lock on one of the glass cabinets in the office, and he knows that from Shen Yuan’s perspective he must have a very clear view of the ruby earrings that Luo Binghe had plucked from the case.

He doesn’t stare long. Hesitating only ever gets someone caught, and Luo Binghe does not get caught.

The office has no windows, so Luo Binghe will have to exit through the door that Shen Yuan is standing in. He turns to face Shen Yuan fully - he empty hand neatly plucking a few more pieces from the cabinet and tucking them in his pockets as he moves - and starts sauntering over to Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan was not meant to be one of the marks he seduced, but plans can change. He’ll just need to fluster Shen Yuan long enough to make it past him to one of the several exit plans Luo Binghe had planned. 

That should be enough - Shen Yuan is only wearing an oversized shirt and boxers, clearly having gotten up from bed without dressing properly, and he doesn’t appear to be carrying anything in his hands. All that together means he’s likely not carrying his phone, and Luo Binghe knows the security schedule well enough to know that Shen Yuan yelling wouldn’t have anyone arriving quick enough to stop him. 

Shen Yuan takes half a step back as Luo Binghe approaches, but he doesn’t leave the doorway. He must have some idea that he’s the only obstacle in Luo Binghe’s way, then. Luo Binghe smiles at him, only half faking the predatory look of it. 

“Yuan-er,” Luo Binghe croons, and Shen Yuan shuffles back another half foot, his ears turning pink where they stick out from some truly terrible bed head.

Spoiled, Luo Binghe thinks in the privacy of his own mind, poisonous and bitter. A child who’s always been allowed laziness.

“Yuan-er, you’ve really got to put better locks on your things,” Luo Binghe says as he approaches. “Isn’t this your family’s precious legacy? That sort of thing should be protected…”

Shen Yuan’s brows furrow. Luo Binghe can very clearly read the baffled what the fuck that silently twists his lips, but Luo Binghe doesn’t react. 

That’s it, little rabbit - just stand there, and let yourself be confused and taken aback by the thief in front of you, and I’ll escape before you have to worry your spoiled little head about it.

Luo Binghe is only a few paces away, now. He’ll brush past Shen Yuan’s right side to avoid getting caught on the arm he has resting on the doorway, and -

“Say please,” Shen Yuan says, glaring up at Luo Binghe as he crosses his arms.

Luo Binghe falters. “What was that, Yuan-er?”

“You’re clearly capable of sweet talk, so you should start with asking nicely before you take our shit,” Shen Yuan scoffs. 

Luo Binghe stops in front of Shen Yuan, close enough that Shen Yuan has to tilt his head up to maintain eye contact with him. 

He should just brush past, really. Shen Yuan is small, and Luo Binghe already knows he doesn’t have a way to raise alarm in an effective way.

Luo Binghe does not brush past.

He kind of wants to slit Shen Yuan’s throat for thinking he has any right to tell Luo Binghe to say please, sitting comfortably in the lap of luxury like he is. 

“I’m impressed,” Luo Binghe says, his smile so sharp it may as well just be a baring of his teeth. “Yuan-er knows so many big words for a little princling of such an important business. Did you learn them from listening to clients speak to your daddy?”

Shen Yuan’s eye twitches. “Ah,” he says. “You’re an asshole on top of being impolite, then.”

Luo Binghe’s fingers twitch towards the switchblade in his pocket. He wouldn’t be able to clean up a body before security loops back around to this wing of the house, and Luo Binghe has already left a mess from being interrupted in the middle of his heist. He hasn’t left any fingerprints, but he can’t be sure about hair -

Shen Yuan reaches up and flicks Luo Binghe’s forehead. Luo Binghe goes dead still. That’s it, then. He’s going to kill Shen Yuan, this rich little brat -

“Oi, you’re going to ruin your pretty face with a mean expression like that,” Shen Yuan complains. “Just get out of here if you aren’t going to listen nicely - I already called security before coming over here to tell you off myself.”

Luo Binghe pulls out the switchblade, snarling down at Shen Yuan. “Oh, Yuan-er, I think there’s something much better I could ruin.”

Shen Yuan shifts uncomfortably at the sight of the blade, some of his irritation replaced with the faintest glimmer of fear. Luo Binghe pushes closer, wanting to see more - wanting to see Shen Yuan’s delicate face contorted with the sort of despair that a little lordling like him would never have known before, wanting to see him cry - 

There’s footsteps from down the hall. Shen Yuan had not been bluffing; he really had called someone, then. Luo Binghe cannot guarantee he’ll be able to kill Shen Yuan quickly enough that Shen Yuan is unable to give a description of his murderer to the help before he dies.

Hesitating gets people caught. Luo Binghe does not get caught, so he brushes past Shen Yuan harshly without another moment’s pause, even though what he wants to do is something far more violent and time consuming. 

Luo Binghe hasn’t failed a heist like this since he was a damn child, and this stupid little twink dares to just stand there and watch Luo Binghe run down the hallway to the nearest window instead of lay bleeding on the ground like he should be doing, Luo Binghe will come back to kill him -

“At least say thanks!” Shen Yuan calls out as Luo Binghe approaches the window. “Even if you can’t ask nicely to begin with, you should at least say thanks, ah!”

Luo Binghe ignores him. He’s busy pulling his jacket off to wrap around his arms, preparing to jump through the window’s glass in such a way that he can avoid getting cut and leaving his own blood at the scene of the crime.

“Aiya, what an asshole…” Shen Yuan is grumbling behind him. “You know, you may regret not bothering to pay me a bit more attention.”

Oh, Luo Binghe is paying attention. He’s very vividly imagining what Shen Yuan’s neck would feel between his fingers, right now, even as he backs up several steps to get a running start at the window. 

The office had been on the second story, so Luo Binghe has to roll to mitigate the force of the fall. He stands quickly, does a perfunctory check of his pockets to ensure nothing fell when he hit the ground, and -

He’s missing the jewelry he nicked. He has the ruby earrings, but the others he’d stolen as he was leaving are gone. Luo Binghe searches the ground around where he’d fallen frantically; he has to move now, but he can’t leave those behind either. After all that this heist has brought, Luo Binghe can’t allow it to not even be profitable. 

Above him, Shen Yuan clears his throat from the broken window. Luo Binghe whips his head up to look at him.

In one hand, Shen Yuan is holding the missing jewelry.

“I told you,” Shen Yuan says. “Jeez, as if I’m that useless.”

Luo Binghe stares up at him. No one has ever dared to steal back from Luo Binghe.

“...Aren’t you going to leave? Security really will be here soon.” Shen Yuan calls down at him. Then he pauses, and even in the darkness Luo Binghe can tell his ears have gone pink again. “...I let you keep the rubies. They, uh. Would probably go well. With you. And your eyes. And uh. Anyway, say thanks!”

“...Thanks?” Luo Binghe says, baffled and furious and still sort of itching to take his switchblade out and throw it pointy-side first at Shen Yuan’s pretty face.

“You’re welcome, asshole!” Shen Yuan calls back, clearly pleased. 

Luo Binghe stares for a moment longer, then turns and runs. He will not get caught, even on nights that have gone as stupendously terrible as this one has. So long as he doesn’t get caught, there’s always next time. 

So long as he doesn’t get caught, Luo Binghe can come back here, to the office of jewels he failed to get - to Shen Yuan. 

Next time, Luo Binghe won’t fail.

[cthulhusstepmom]

The Many Willful Misunderstandings Of One Thorin Oakenshield, King Under The Mountain

Being alone is a truly exhausting experience. More so when one is surrounded by others making sure that they are quite pointedly aware that they are alone. Bilbo Baggins has been rather terribly alone amidst this dreadful company for several months by his reckoning. By this time, his mother’s blackberry bushes should be heavy with fruit and his prize winning tomatoes should be fat and ruby red on the plant; the thought only adds to his sour mood. Gandalf is as helpful as he has ever been, a familiar face in the crowd but not much more and his quizzical nonanswers grow irritating swiftly. 

Standing on the bank of a sluggish stream, Bilbo gazes down at his reflection in dismay. His companions had all rather boisterously claimed a large stretch of water as well as the banks on either side and, while there was of course no verbal acknowledgement of such things, it was clear that Bilbo was not welcome to join them. Which suited his purposes all the better, truth be told he had no desire to spend any considerable amount of time with those ruffians in the nude. But here, having separated himself by a handful of yards, Bilbo can appreciate just how alien his own form has become. 

It is common knowledge that the peak condition of a hobbit is rounded. The closer a hobbit is to being as wide as they are tall, the better a hobbit they are. Bilbo himself has long struggled with being quite gangly and gawkish by hobbit standards, having inherited the lanky Tookish build of his mother more than the rounded form of a proper Baggins. Putting and keeping weight on has given him no small amount of grief. And so it is to his great dismay that he looks down into the water and a face with sunken cheeks and pitted eyes glares accusingly back. His middle is precariously flat and on his arms, dare he even mention, looks to be the start of stringy muscles.

These dwarves and their love for skipping and skimping on even the barest of rations, Bilbo hadn’t had even a full three meals a day since he’d dashed out his front door. And perhaps to Durin’s hardy folk it’s all well and good to march through lunch without even stopping to boil hard tack or gnaw on jerky, but poor Bilbo Baggins has stingingly felt each bite of food stripping off his bones. For love of courtesy he’s not said a word, better to suffer in silence than to trespass on the already thin goodwill of his company. Every nut and every berry he has gathered has all been surrendered to the steady eye of Balin and the clever hands of Bombur, to keep even a portion for himself would be so unforgivably selfish he’d have to hang up the name Baggins and never look his cousins in the eye so long as his hairy feet tread the fair paths of the Shire.

Gazing down at his warped reflection Bilbo can’t help but feel discouraged. He doesn’t feel much like a hobbit; he’s far from his creature comforts, his mother’s plants, his father’s books. The roots that ground him to his legacy are a thousand and one steps in the other direction. He doesn’t look much like a hobbit either he thinks, halfheartedly combing his fingers through hair that’s grown long and unruly on the road. His best and second best travel waistcoats are utterly ruined, light cotton worn absolutely through from the rough nature of their trek. Clothes that had seen him through many a walking holiday ripped and threadbare under the stress of this godsforsaken journey. 

Hearing the sounds of his compatriots begin to shift and rise in excitement, Bilbo quickly redoubles his efforts to scrub the worst of the road from his skin; the last thing he needs is for them to bring their heckling even here. The rowdy play of the dwarves grows closer and closer, Bilbo freezing in place and hoping that the small stand of reeds he’d chosen shelters him from scrutiny. A large shape moves just upstream and Bilbo’s gaze darts only to meet the stony eyes of Dwalin, looking on unimpressed. Though seemingly his condescension falls not squarely on the hobbit’s shoulders.

As their gazes meet, he catches the slightest hint of evaluation in the warrior’s flinty eyes. Bilbo holds his breath. By all means he’s really doing nothing shameful, beyond lamenting his overall sorry state, there really isn’t anything to hide or feel guilt for. Nothing but the screaming urge for just a moment of privacy for this most vulnerable time. The dwarves all know he has a soft underbelly (regardless of his actual soft underbelly carving away from hunger) and Dwalin, while certainly not the worst, has never spared him before now, Bilbo quietly prepares to endure pointed barbs and sharp remarks. 

Even as he does so, Dwalin averts his eyes and moves away, calling some stern words to the youngest members of their company that Bilbo's relief washes from his ears. A glowing coal at such a small kindness burns dimly in his chest as he hastens to finish his frantic scrubbing and begins to wash his clothing. So occupied in his task he doesn’t feel another stormy gaze pinned on his every movement. 

Lazy afternoon hours turn their shade into the evening as Bilbo whittles away his time at the river. The splashing sounds have long since faded as each dwarf finished their bathing rituals and returned to their camp to begin dinner, Bilbo to his credit faces the duty of washing dishes and feels no such need to rush. What occupies him at this moment is the sorry state of his clothes. After a few good scrubs in the river, the worst of the grime has been defeated, though to his dismay it simply revealed more patchwork he’d need to do. Which is now the way his efforts tend. He’d sacrificed his lovely mustard yellow vest to make patches and now found himself occupied in the patching of his clothes. 

He’s in the middle of a tricky stitch when a voice startles him.

“Dori is a tailor.” 

“Yavanna’s tit!” Bilbo squeaks, quite accidentally plunging his needle deep into the flesh of his thumb and subsequently letting out a slew of other curses. Looking up from his predicament, thumb sorely in his mouth, Bilbo meets the unmoved gaze of the leader of the company. Thorin Oakenshield stands in front of him, arms crossed over his chest and a thunderous expression on his face. 

Gathering that he was meant to speak now from a stately raised eyebrow, Bilbo clears his throat. “Er, sorry?” 

“Dori is a tailor. Would you not seek his skill?” 

Bilbo knew that Dori was a tailor, thank you very much, as much as he also knew that Dori held no love for hobbit garments if the grumbled opinions on his clothing were anything to go by. 

“Er yes, and a rather good one I’ve seen. But my ability is reasonable enough in mending that I wouldn’t trouble him for a few holes in a waistcoat. I wouldn’t like to waste his time.” In truth he would quite like to sit down with Dori to discuss their shared skill set perhaps over a mug of tea, but that didn’t seem to be in his future with the haughty dwarf so he thought it best left unmentioned. 

“You presume his craft is a waste of time?” Thorin’s eyes narrow even further. 

“Master Oakenshield just as I would not call a master artisan to fix a hole in my plaster, I will not trouble Dori with patching my troll ruined wardrobe. My only presumption is that he’d frown upon the imposition I would cause.”

With a smart nod, Bilbo returns to his sewing, uncomfortably aware of the eyes on him. After a minute, two minutes, five minutes, Bilbo sighs and quickly gathers his things. It’s nothing he can’t finish on his watch tonight. Standing, still with no commentary from their fearless leader, Bilbo clears his throat once more. “Ahem, quite so, I will be headed back now… Good evening.”

Sitting neatly, though he cannot say the same for his raucous companions, near to another fire on another night, Bilbo busies himself with writing in his journal. It’s nothing truly extraordinary, simply a small leather bound tome filled with blank pages for his thoughts to fill. He had hoped upon packing such a journal that he would have the unique opportunity to chronicle their quest in progress, though thus far it has been filled with only the inane ramblings of a lonely hobbit. He writes of what he foraged that day and all of the plants he recognized, even going so far as to sketch some of the greenery whose name and nature eluded him so that he might look it up should he ever step foot in a proper library again. And it is as he is sketching a handsome little wildflower that he is quite rudely interrupted.

“What do you write there?” Turning his startled gaze up from his he meets the vexed stare and crinkled brow of one Thorin Oakenshield. 

Bilbo had thought today was a good day too, a good day of course meeting the criteria of 1) largely avoiding or being avoided by heavy handed dwarven scrutiny and 2) not being killed or eaten by orc, warg, or troll. Thusly he was quite taken by surprise and responded rather hotly the first thing that came to his mind.

“What business is it of yours?” He can feel his eyes go wide at his own presumption, though His Majesty’s stormy gaze only draws tighter and more thunderous. 

“My business is the business of what secrets a careless hobbit may write down and leave lying around for any foe to find.” He barks. 

Stung by his distrust Bilbo sniffs distastefully. “If you must know Master Oakenshield, I am journaling. I had hoped to keep a somewhat revised account of our travels, I promise you’ll find no great secrets here.” He says, gesturing to the sketch of the wildflower with great umbrance. Only this reassurance does little to lighten their leader’s displeased stare. 

“Ori is a scribe, do you discount his work as lesser than your own?” 

Catching his gaze across the fire, Bilbo notices that Ori indeed has the appearance of a scholar; ink stains fingertips that at this very moment are scribbling furiously away in a large tome. The young dwarf blushes and averts his gaze, setting down the pen as though it were suddenly liable to bite.

“And one of no small talent I am sure!” Bilbo proclaims before turning back to Thorin. “Master Oakenshield, if you’ll pardon my candor, history does not hurt by more mouths in the telling of it. Ori may write his masterwork while I record my own thoughts and none shall supersede the other.” 

Gandalf makes a pleased noise somewhere behind him and Bilbo has to restrain a rather Took-ish snicker at the snapping frustration in Thorin’s expression as he turns away and storms back to his own seat. 

Rivendell proves to be its own bag of both troubles and delights.

On the one hand: The architecture of the elves is stunning, a brilliant and awe inspiring environ that takes his breath away at every turn. For the first time in weeks his belly is full of good and healthy foods (he simply must acquire the recipe for the vinaigrette of the acorn salad they’d had at brunch), and his ears are full of airy uplifting songs instead of the grumbling of touchy dwarves and his own empty stomach. Their accommodations are phenomenal, Bilbo is quite certain he’d never been quite so grateful to see a feather mattress in his entire life. It is, all in all, a welcome and well needed reprieve from the road. 

But on the other hand…

“I will not tolerate the waffling of cowards and thieves! Nor will I be held hostage!” 

The leader of their expedition was in a truly exceptional bad mood (even by his own previously established standards). Each offering of their hosts is received with thinly veiled hostility at best and loud criticism at the worst; the food, the rooms, the meetings with Elrond, none of them hold up to the lofty scrutiny of their wandering king. Every further insult to hospitality has Bilbo flushing quite red about the ears, the trained Baggins’ socialite in him dying at each slight and jab. It’s just as well with the rest of the company too, with the occasional exception of Balin, each dwarf participates in the brutal slaughter of any and all etiquette present heretofore. 

Bilbo takes to slipping away as often as he can. While the rest of his fellowship is training at axe or sword, the lone hobbit may be found (well hopefully not, he’d not be doing a terribly good job of hiding away if he were found) wandering through the gardens or perusing the library. He is aware of course that it makes for a poor solution to his problems in the long run, when the time comes the company will move on and he with them, but in the meantime it offers a sorely needed relief of solitude. 

It is on a day when it is sorely needed indeed that Bilbo finds himself stumbling into an airy and beautiful kitchen. The counters are a bit high for his stature and perish the thought of a homey wood stove like he’s used to. But the cupboards are full of diverse and intriguing ingredients and the larder is stocked to bursting with fresh and preserved foods alike. Bilbo notices with no small amusement an entire set of shelves dedicated to housing cured meats and cheeses; such fare had yet to make its way to the table of he and his fellows, much to the dismay of his rather more carnivorous travelling companions. Racks of exotic spices call to him with siren song, begging for his perusal. 

A young elf with a joyous countenance provides him with a step stool wrought so smoothly it may as well have grown to the purpose. The youth gives him free reign of the space to work to his contentment (which has Bilbo’s own countenance growing rather joyous) and bids him good wishes as he goes on his way. The hobbit can’t quite contain himself when he spies a selection of mushrooms tucked on a shelf just at the top of his reach. If there is one common ground with which a hobbit can draw to a dwarf it may well be coveting treasures of the earth, though the hobbit’s are a fair bit squishier and tastier than gold or gems. He sets about preparing a true feast fit for a king (wayward or otherwise). 

Chunks of springy shelf mushroom are sauteed in a pan with lemon, he mashes some potatoes with copious amounts of rich butter and fresh cracked pepper, dark and tender greens are wilted into a light and tangy sauce to add a bit of bitter repose. Thin strips of a truly monstrous white puffball start the process of becoming jerky for the road. A poppyseed and lemon loaf floods the hall with a bright and citrusy aroma. He toils away in this kitchen just as he would in Bag End, despite the many miles and hardships in between. It is not meant for any one in particular, Bilbo had quite accidentally made far more than he had anticipated, so excited as he was to ply his expertise with tools far more deserving than a spluttering campfire. He supposes he’ll offer the meal to the company, or perhaps to the elves to give to the company. Or perhaps just to the elves, it seems as though they might appreciate his efforts far more than his contractually bound comrades. 

It is as he ponders such things that his peace is quite rudely interrupted. 

“What exactly are you doing Master Baggins?” 

Bilbo can’t even bring himself to act surprised, after living under such intense scrutiny these passed months it’s a wonder he’s surprised by anything at all anymore; let alone the unannounced arrival of a lone critical dwarf.

“I’m cooking.” His next words hasten to beat Thorin to the punch. “And yes I know that Master Bombur is our cook, having sampled of his trade many a time I would go so far as to label him a master of the art.”

The king not currently under the mountain seems taken aback before summoning back the familiar perturbed contempt. 

“You would presume to measure his skill? What would you know of his trade?”

Bilbo raises an unimpressed eyebrow. It is one thing to question him on passing handy tasks or hobbies, but to berate a hobbit over his cooking? And a Baggins at that? This is a true and unforgivable trespass that will not be allowed to go uncorrected; the kind that has caused many generational feud upon the fair soils of the Shire.

“I will have you know Master Oakenshield that I have been studying the culinary arts since before I could properly say my own name. When I was barely a tween I perfected my first souffle and since then I have created countless recipes and won my own fair number of awards for those recipes. There is a great deal that I am uneducated and inexperienced in concerning the wider world beyond the Shire, Your Majesty, but until you know the difference between braising and marinating, I should appreciate it if you were to keep your thoughts to yourself on the matter forthwith.”

For the first time in recent memory, Thorin Oakenshield appears to be stunned into silence. Riding high on this small victory, Bilbo shoves a dish into his hands. 

“Now follow me, the sulphur shelf will become far too rubbery if it goes cold.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65736589/chapters/169289479

[cappulcino]

Seven Days Til Fall (Part 2)

Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3 – Part 4 – Part 5 – Part 6 – Part 7

Read on AO3

Words: 3,533

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader

Summary: You're an angel sent on a divine mission to retrieve a powerful relic that has been stolen from Heaven. The orders are clear: gain an audience with the Devil, make deals with them if necessary, anything to return that object to the Silver City. But Hell is not quite what you expected, and neither is Lucifer.

Trigger warnings: Non-graphic mention of suicide (the Woods of Suicides)

On the second day, you approached the gates of Hell with powerful strides, determined to get this mission over with as quickly as possible. When that poor soul gave you the mallet to call for Squatterbloat, you winced again but took it with more assurance than the day before.

You didn't have to wait long before the demon's guttural voice resonated through your bones.

"There's one at the door. At the gate of damnation."

He stopped in his doggerel when he saw you through the thick morning fog, just like he had yesterday.

"Oh, it's the holy Dominion. Have you come for an encore?"

"Cease your theatrics, demon," you urged him. "As much as this displeases me, I might need to come back more than once. I have no wish to listen to your vile rhyming every time. Let me through."

Grinning mischievously, Squatterbloat replied, "Feathered pest, draw near… It's my place in the hierarchy that allows me this treat. So mark my words, celestial bore, you'll hear my rhymes each time you pass this door."

Stepping aside, he made a grand, exaggerated gesture to let you in. If Heaven's rules and basic decency didn't matter to you, you would insult him right here and now. Instead, you bit your tongue and started marching forward, only for Squatterbloat to grab you by the arm as you passed in front of him.

"If I were you, I would leave my purity here –it tends to melt in the heat."

You glared at him and yanked your arm free. "To the palace."

"Ahh…" Lucifer sighed contentedly before you even had a chance to greet them.

You had been escorted to some office room. Lucifer had their back turned to you and their eyes fixed on the pages of an ancient volume taken off a bookcase that had directly been carved in the black marble wall.

"We take it the Divine Council has granted Our offer."

"It has."

"Of course it has."

The Morningstar echoed your words with a calm, almost indifferent acknowledgement as if they had been expecting Heaven to agree to the deal all along. They then closed the book and put it back where it belonged as they spoke again.

"And We suppose you brought a contract with you."

"Indeed."

Lucifer elegantly gestured for you to come closer to their desk –which you did immediately– and sat down before picking up their pen, clearly made of bone and embedded with gold chips and rubies.

You couldn't help but cringe a little at the sight of it, wondering what that poor creature –or was it creatures?– had done for the ruler of Hell to turn their body parts into personal stationery, and even more so at the sight of blood that served as ink on the tip of the instrument.

Reaching the desk, you handed Lucifer the contract with reverence, then took a respectful step back. They unrolled the parchment in a swift motion, and there was a certain smugness in their stance that made the muscles of your face contort with disdain no matter how hard you tried to resist it.

Lucifer's eyes skimmed the page and then suddenly their rictus disappeared. You knew why, you had taken a peek at the contract yourself. Since Lucifer had not specified any length of time in their request to visit the Silver City, the Council had ensured that said visit be as short as possible.

"What is this?" Lucifer asked. Their eyes burned with fury but their overall expression remained rather relaxed. "This is not what We asked for."

"How do You mean?" You replied, your tone full of fake innocence.

Lucifer didn't need to stand up to dominate you –they simply leaned forward on their desk, and you realised you had gone too far and bowed your head in contrition. That was not how a respectable angel should behave. Squatterbloat had been right, purity did have a tendency to quickly vanish in Hell.

"Do not mock Us, little angel," the monarch snarled before quoting the contract. "'The Visitation shall be limited to a period not exceeding one hour of celestial time.'" And then further down, "'Any breach of conduct, as determined by the Archangels present, shall result in immediate termination of the Visitation, and Lucifer Morningstar shall be expelled from the Silver City without delay or further discourse.' How does that compensate for the efforts We will make to aid you in your quest?"

"The decision was not mine, Lightbringer. You are free to complain to Your brother, but I'm afraid this is all You will get."

A smirk returned to Lucifer's lips as they leaned back in their chair, delicately lowering their hands on the armrests, and crossed their legs. You noticed in your peripheral vision that the movement made their svelte, pale leg show through a slit in their silken robes, and, for an inexplicable reason, your breath hitched a little.

"We could still decide not to sign this contract, you know," Lucifer finally spoke after a brief silence. "And if We don't, Heaven will never recover the Cup of Eternal Grace, and you…" They were exulting now. "Will have failed in your mission."

"And You will never set foot in the Silver City ever again." The words were audacious, but this time your tone was not insolent at all; this was but a mere remark based on how important Lucifer had made their wish to see Heaven again sound yesterday.

And this constant battle inside you between decorum, sense of heavenly duty, and audacity seemed to appeal to Lucifer because, after gazing at you for a couple of seconds, they inhaled sharply through their nose and let out a clipped, "Fine" before plunging their bony pen in the blood well to their right to sign the contract.

They then proceeded to append Hell's seal on the parchment, after which they stood up, rounded their desk, and walked over to you. Your eyes never left them.

"Thank You, Your Majesty," you muttered as Lucifer handed you the scroll.

Your politeness was met with a dismissive hand gesture, and Lucifer headed out of the room without a word.

"Well?" you said, promptly catching up with the Morningstar with a few, quick strides but mindful of staying two steps behind as etiquette required.

"Well, what?"

"Are You not going to give me the Cup?"

"Dear… If only it were that easy. The Cup is not in Our possession."

That would have been too easy indeed.

"Then would You tell me which demon has it? Surely You must know."

"No idea," Lucifer admitted in their annoyingly sweet voice.

That revelation made you freeze for a second.

"What?" you huffed. "You swore to help."

"Yes, We did. And We will, a deal is a deal. But We never pretended to know where the Cup was, did We? Now come. You shall introduce yourself to Our subjects and inform them of your little investigation."

You found Lucifer's nonchalance about the whole situation deeply infuriating, but at least it seemed they hadn't lied about wanting to cooperate. So you complied and followed them, and soon found yourself back in their throne room, standing on the outlook that overhung the royal courtyard.

Lucifer summoned their demons and the courtyard suddenly filled with millions of repugnant, howling monsters. You could feel their eyes judging you and, despite the torches and fire pit burning in the room behind you, you shivered.

You had never done that, addressing so many people at once. Your position as a Dominion only allowed you to lead meetings of a handful of angels, all inferior in rank. Delivering speeches to Fallen Ones certainly wasn't on the top lines of your curriculum vitae.

But the demons were waiting so you lifted your chin, straightened your wings, and took a confident step forward.

"Peace be–"

False start. You couldn't possibly wish peace upon those former angels if you wanted to be taken seriously. You cleared your throat and started over.

"Greetings, denizens of Hell. I come before you as an envoy of the Silver City, a representative of the Almighty, in the spirit of divine order. The Cup of Eternal Grace has been stolen from Heaven."

The demons listened –or did they? You couldn't tell from up here–, their expressions ranging from boredom to mild curiosity, but they remained silent for the most part, seemingly unimpressed.

You briefly glanced at Lucifer who raised an expectant eyebrow, waiting to see how you would fare, so you turned back to the assembly below and resumed talking.

"One of you here has it. It is imperative that it be returned to its rightful place, and I expect your full cooperation in the matter."

You paused, expecting your words to carry weight, but the demons began to snicker instead, which quickly escalated into full-blown laughter. You decided to throw another look at Lucifer, silently asking them to do something, but the Devil remained impassive.

"I, uh… Assist me in this task, and you shall find favour in the eyes of… God…" Your voice trailed as the laughter grew. "Refuse, and you risk His… wrath…"

You gave up. By now the evidence was hitting you like a brick, Lucifer had done this on purpose. They had felt mocked earlier and now were mocking you, humiliating you, by letting you publicly make a fool of yourself. The message was clear, you were only here because the Lightbringer allowed you to be, and the smooth running of your mission depended only on their goodwill. With that lesson learnt, you lowered your gaze in defeat.

When Lucifer saw that you had finally understood who was in charge here, they raised their hand, and Hell fell silent. The demons listened intently as their ruler ordered them to do as you had said, motivating them with various threats.

Meanwhile, you turned around to look at Mazikeen, whom you had heard laughing with the others. She was still staring at you with a smug grin, her whole body exuding devilish pride. She hated you, that much was obvious, and you had little doubt she would try to put a spanner in the works.

"There, little angel," Lucifer suddenly said once they were done addressing the crowd. "Our demons will not hinder your research. You are free to come and go on their lands and interrogate them as you please. Mazikeen will ensure your safety. Although…" They invaded your personal space and let their eyes slide over your face and then trace your silhouette before moving back up. "We have no intention of letting you out of Our sight for now."

The morning had stretched into a long arduous journey through Hell's landscapes. With the Morningstar as your guide, you had visited ruined fortresses, questioned quite a few demonic entities already, and combed through cursed archives, all to no avail.

You couldn't help but inwardly complain about Lucifer's methods and more specifically their decision to walk to each location rather than fly. This realm was vast, yes, but not much more than Heaven, and your wings were strong. Yet, you were made to stay on the ground, enduring either the scorching heat or the icy cold, and always the oppressive weight of Hell's atmosphere.

You had initially wanted to protest but had chosen to refrain. What had happened this morning back at the palace had made you understand that you had absolutely no power here and that being an envoy of God, the Most Supreme, Lucifer's own Father, made no difference. Quite the contrary, in fact. In Heaven, you were a Dominion, a relatively powerful angel. In Hell, even the Damned seemed to be more welcome than you were.

You had not needed to comment on Lucifer's choice anyway. They had indeed quickly sensed your incomprehension and kindly reminded you that journeys were often as important as the destinations themselves if not more, and part of you begrudgingly had had to admit that they were right.

And so you kept on walking, ash filling your lungs and bones breaking under your feet, always two steps behind the sovereign's superb figure, accepting this means for them to assert control and test your resolve.

The light grew dim as you now ventured into a forest, and the air turned cold and thick with an eerie fog that hung mid-air. You noticed the trees first –gnarled, twisted, pale things with trunks that seemed to writhe in the darkness. But it wasn’t until you heard the faint, mournful cries that you realised how painful crossing these woods would be for you.

You looked up, and that’s when you saw them –the Damned, their bodies fused into the bark, faces contorted in eternal torment, limbs tangled with the branches above.

"We know, Our darlings, We know…" Lucifer suddenly spoke in reply to the whimpers of pain and despair.

Had you heard that right? Were they really trying to… soothe those sinners? You didn't want to believe Satan capable of compassion and yet, their intention seemed genuine.

"Where are we?" you asked.

"The Woods of Suicides."

Immediately, you felt the need to do the sign of the cross –taking one's own life was the greatest sin, after all; so you had been taught. But Lucifer snatched your wrist before you even started.

"Do not," they growled. "Not anywhere in Our realm, especially not here. It would be of great disrespect."

"These mortals are unworthy of my respect," you countered. "They have forsaken the Lord."

"The Lord has forsaken them," Lucifer corrected you, finally letting go of your wrist as if getting rid of a piece of rubbish. Their voice remained as poised as always, though there now was a certain edge to it as they continued. "Do you know why humans kill themselves?"

"No. But they have free will. God gave them a beautiful life of endless possibilities, and they squandered them all."

"God… gave them a life of suffering. A suffering so grand they could not wait for old age to come or for someone to shoot them to put an end to it."

"He does not burden a soul with more than–"

Lucifer cut you off. They had the intention to lecture you, and there was no stopping them.

"You sometimes seem to forget your place and to speak with arrogance, acting oh so… holier-than-thou. Yet you wear your wings with uncertainty, and We know that beneath that shining armour of righteousness, there is doubt. Because there is so much you do not know, do not understand, and you hate it. God, my brother, and his kind have been keeping you in the dark, using you as a mere pawn in their Great Plan despite your strength and intelligence, and you secretly loathe them for it. Are We mistaken?" You didn't say anything, so Lucifer insisted. "Are We?"

"N-No, Your Majesty," you admitted reluctantly.

Lucifer let your answer sit for a moment. You felt ashamed and somewhat stupid, and lowered your gaze to the ground.

"These souls you so easily judge were left in despair by a God who calls Himself all-loving and all-forgiving but remained silent when they needed guidance the most. Look at them." Seeing your lack of reaction, Lucifer urged you again. "Look."

So you looked up. Lucifer stepped back then, and only when they were far enough did you realise that it was not to them that the lamentations of the Damned were directed nor was it them that the dead tried to reach with their scrawny hands –it was you.

"What are they doing? What do they want?"

"Why, what you have, of course. The right to walk the gardens of Heaven, an eternal life free of pain, and their Father's love, His forgiveness."

"Forgiveness is always given to those who ask for it," you whispered, though, at that point, you weren't even convinced by what you preached any more.

"Oh, but they asked," Lucifer assured. "Most of them did, at least. Granted, some of them were driven here by their own guilt after committing crimes they could not handle. Some of them have gone mad, too. You can ask Herr Hitler about it, he is hanging a little further east. But the others… They begged and begged and begged for a sign that never came. We will not allow you to dismiss them so easily."

The silence that followed was heavy, the weight of Lucifer’s words sinking into you. You couldn't believe you were actually thinking this, but the Morningstar was right –again. Where had God been when these poor souls started straying from the path? Why had He not prevented this?

You looked up at the dead canopy once more and, not knowing what else to do, you said to any damned soul that would listen, "I forgive you."

To your surprise –and a bit to Lucifer's own– the pained moaning ceased then, leaving the woods in empty, cold silence.

"Quite honourable," Lucifer said. "But what you are giving them is but a mere respite. It's too late now."

You closed your eyes, swallowing the sadness that this harsh truth raised within you, and already the desperate cries resumed.

"Now come. We still have much to do."

You were now back at the palace. This first day of research was coming to an end, and there was still no sign of the chalice. You felt nothing but frustration and a growing sense of futility, and the conversation you had had earlier with Lucifer was still causing much turmoil inside you.

Lucifer, ever watchful, seemed to sense your nervousness and turned to you.

"Do not lose hope, little angel. The Cup will be found soon."

You nodded absent-mindedly –that artefact was not the main thing on your mind right now.

"Perhaps would you care to join me for supper?" were Lucifer's next words.

Your head snapped when you heard the shocking proposition.

"I beg Your pardon?"

"It seems the day has worn on you more than we had both expected, and you have come a long way. We thought you might want to rest before returning to the Silver City. Besides… It would please Us to learn more about you beyond our forced cooperation."

"I am not here to befriend You, Lightbringer. And I have to be back before compline."

"Of course you do," Lucifer said, finding your devotion endearing. "And We promise you will."

The smile now forming on their face seemed genuine, but you were still unsure whether you could trust them or not –they were the Devil, after all.

"Are You trying to tempt me?"

Lucifer chuckled softly. "Is it working?"

Evidently, it had worked because you were now sitting at a long, ornate table in the grand dining hall of Lucifer's palace, a masterpiece of dark elegance with intricate carvings that seemed to shift in the flickering light of a hundred torches.

The feast that was now coming to an end had been more sumptuous than you had anticipated, and you knew you would have to confess to giving into gluttony once back in the Silver City. But you would be lying to yourself if you tried to pretend you hadn't enjoyed the food.

You had also enjoyed the conversation, which had drifted to matters of history and philosophy –you, arguing with your celestial point of view, Lucifer with their hellish one.

The Morningstar had also inquired about your time in Heaven, the nature of your duties there, and your thoughts on the Archangels and others of higher rank. Their questions, though polite, had probed deeper than you had expected, and you had tried to answer with caution despite a certain level of candour that had surprised even you.

Lucifer, on the other hand, had spoken of Hell with detached pride and had only hinted at the intricacies of its management, mostly skilfully avoiding the very few questions you had dared to ask.

The silence that was reigning now felt awkward –to you, at least; Lucifer, for their part, seemed to enjoy staring at you and making you feel uncomfortable as they munched on a pomegranate. You felt the need to break it.

"I thank You for this meal, Lucifer Morningstar. However, it is getting late, and I should take my leave."

"Of course. We understand," Lucifer replied with a slow nod and a polite smile before standing up to see you to the door. "But you should know…" they said as you reached it. "We were not trying to tempt you earlier. We merely offered, and you accepted. Even angels have free will, and yours, Our little angel, is asking you to… experience new things."

Was Lucifer insinuating that you were starting to stray from the right path? Your jaw clenched at that possibility.

"It is alright, do not fret," they added when they noticed your expression, their voice mellowing though their smile was turning to a more sly one. "You can always ask for forgiveness."

Feeling something starting to crumble inside you, you curtsied weakly and then made your way out of Lucifer's palace to fly back to Heaven, already dreading your return tomorrow.

And there was evening, and there was morning –the second day.

[galwithalibrarycard]

OUAT Pilot rewatch liveblog

- Okay, so this show started airing when I was about to turn 17, and I have not watched the pilot episode since the first time I saw it. I am now older than Emma Swan. This fact is already fucking me all the way up.

- This episode is way better than it has any right to be. I’m remembering how it’s similar to literary adaptation webseries in that seeing how the stories are adapted and spotting all the little references to the original stories is such a huge part of the fun for me.

- Remember the days of guessing who the citizens of Storybrooke’s fairy tale counterparts would be before the reveals? Remember the Doctor Whale reveal? That was the good shit. I almost wish they hadn’t just told us that Archie was Jiminy Cricket. I wonder how long that would’ve taken us to guess.

- Emma seemed like such an adult to me at 17. And she WAS an adult, but now I’m like, no wonder she was a mess. She was only 28 and alone in the world. Poor thing.

- Henry is adorable.

- I still hate Rumplestiltskin so much. I cannot un-hate him. I hate season one Rumplestiltskin for season six Rumplestiltskin’s behavior and I can’t help it. Boo, hiss.

- Regina/Evil Queen though. No wonder everybody in the fandom loved her on sight. She is serving (and credit to Black queer people et al. for that phrase).

- I hope there has been at least one Evil Queen-inspired drag artist in the world since OUAT. It just feels right. Because the costumes are so awesome and would be so fun to put a drag spin on.

- “Good can’t just lose!” *heavy sigh* God, I forgot how unbelievably annoying the intense literalizing of fairy tale morality in this show was. I can feel the ghost of waves upon waves of my past annoyance with this show washing over me. Let your characters be shades of gray, if everyone is either good or evil then you have written a cartoon. The writers would never learn this.

- The politics of adoption in this show though. What must it be like to watch it as an adoptee? A birth mother? An adoptive mother? I’m sure people from all those experiences have written essays. I will do some googling.

- Did anyone ever write the fanfic AU where Snow goes through the wardrobe before giving birth and gets to raise Emma in the non-magic world and keep her memories? I’d read that.

- Or the AU where none of them go through the wardrobe and Emma ends up growing up with her parents in Storybrooke. Except then if time is frozen she’d be a permanent baby and couldn’t break the curse. Maybe she could be the only one who grows in the town instead of Henry somehow?

- It is unreasonably funny and delightful to me that Snow and Charming’s Knights of the Round Table, as it were, are Gepetto, small child Pinocchio, Granny, Red, and several dwarves. And that most of those people are genuinely fearsome when it comes down to it. Hell yeah.

- Regina offering Emma apple cider and I can hear my teenage self yelling at the TV “No, Emma, it’s probably poisoned!” Lol

- That being said, i understand why the reaction to Regina and Emma was immediately “let’s ship them.” They are both extremely hot and the tension is crackling.

- Grumpy/Leroy whistling the tune of Whistle While You Work, menacingly, in his cell in Storybrooke jail, lol

- did we ever find out who the wolf who ran in front of Emma’s car was? Was it Ruby?

- Also, Emma passed out from that car wreck and they took her to jail rather than the hospital? How does that make sense?

- oh, Snow gave Henry the book! Where did Snow get it?

- Doc the dwarf being the doctor at Emma’s birth is almost too on the nose, omg

- Mary Margaret talking about adopted kids struggling with the question of why their birth parents gave them up, and then Snow answering her question in the next scene. “We have to give her her best chance.”

- I wonder if Ginnifer and Josh thought about this birth scene when their first son was born and experienced a moment of relief that they didn’t have to put him through a magic wardrobe. I feel like I would’ve thought about that if it was me. I mean this question in a completely non-parasocial way.

- Oh I forgot that Charming sword fights while holding his newborn (yikes) and that he gets stabbed and that’s why David’s in a coma in Storybrooke!

- Henry’s castle, awww.

- The clock is still stopped. The horror show of Henry being the only person in town who ages, damn. Does he ever go to the park and bump into the three-year-olds he played with when he was three, except they’re still three and he’s ten? (I think it’s Haley Whipjack who has a great bit about this in their OUAT season one video.)

- How much pain Emma feels about her parents abandoning her, and how tempting it must be for a moment to believe her parents wanted her- and then it turns out to be true. Wow.

- Regina: “because this is my happy ending”

Regina under the curse in Storybrooke: still miserable AF

- the curse hitting like glass shattering around Regina and Snow is a very cool shot

- Regina’s position of “leave my kid alone” would be totally understandable if it didn’t come with so much judgement of Emma for putting him up for adoption in the first place. Her position is still understandable, tbh.

- It’s still so smart that they Uno Reversed the Snow White story and made Charming the one asleep in Storybrooke.

- Goddddd the way I actually feel like Mr Gold/Rumple has potential and I want to see more of him by the end of this episode. Even though I already know I hate his ass and what they end up doing with him.

- And the ending with Emma staying, the clock moving, and Henry smiling! I want to know more! This story has so much potential! (And it will fail utterly at living up to that potential!) Pain. Just pain.

- I solemnly swear that this rewatch will only go up to season three at the furthest. I refuse to hate-watch the back two-thirds of this show’s run again. This was fun, I want to keep it that way!