#sea magic stack

[booksandrandomfandoms]

Tarotoctoberbpc day 26

King of cups - freebie

I made a sea magic stack for a readathon I’m participating in on Instagram . With a painting I did a few years ago in the background 😅

[downfalldestiny]

Lost among the endless waves and sea stacks 🌅 !.

[themelodyofspring]

JOMP Book Photo Challenge

August 27, 2023 - Rainbow Books

[scribbles-here]

ɪ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ

summary: ever since you've woken up in Twisted Wonderland, you've been in awe. i mean how could you not? magic was everywhere!

your friends just shrug it off, thinking that there was nothing special about this world, but you, oh you can't help but giggle like a child whenever something explodes, whether on purpose or accidently, in potions class. of course, someone has noticed the joy at the smallest things in your eyes, and he can't help but admire that.

characters: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, and Malleus,

type: fluffy / gn reader / romantic / bullet points + lowercase intended / reader is yuu

a/n: had this in my head for a while but whenever im given the chance to write i forget everything, some characters might be ooc and like most of the stuff i just searched up lol

unedited

✁-----

[ⅰ] riddle rosehearts

riddle likes your enthusiasm about wanting to learn things. so when you came up to him with a bunch of questions regarding his world, you bet he pulled out a stack of books and plopped them on a nearby table.

"i hope your free for the next hour, [name], because we aren't leaving until your curiosity is satisfied."

he thinks you're going to whine and make an excuse to leave, but he's left silent when you nod and plop down on the chair, back straight and ready to learn at whatever knowledge was going to be thrown your way.

it ended being longer than an hour. you couldn't help yourself asking questions about certain things like wars, how magic came to be, how it was possible to for dorms to have their own dimensional pocket for its location, and blah blah blah.

and riddle couldn't help himself to answering your questions, which led to more questions and again blah blah blah.

finally, you guys get a break for snacks and refreshments, riddle decides to ask you about your world. is there truly no magic in your world? ...magicians? they give the allusion of magic without being able to use it? interesting.

and break ends without both you realize it, but this time, riddle's the student and you're the teacher.

[ⅱ] leona kingscholar

usually, leona doesn't care if you're around him whenever he's sleeping, he likes napping on you. as long as it's quiet and there's no ruggie bugging him about any assignments, he's a happy lion.

but he can't help flicking his tail in irritation at your constant staring at his tail and furry ears when he's trying to sleep. he knows you probably want to touch them.

yeah, leona knows he's good looking, but could've you done your sight-seeing when he's more awake and ready to tease you?

"hey, herbivore, is there something on my face?" leona opens an eye and stares at yours with his green one. he notices you eying his ears and with a loud sigh, he repositions himself to rest his chin on your belly. "only for 3 minutes"

giggling, you immediately reach over and stroked at his fuzzy ears. then comes the questions. "do you use different shampoo for your tail?" "how do you wear headphones?" "your tail is very pretty!"

while you chatted away and messed with his ears and hair, leona fell deeper and deeper into slumber. he'll answer your questions when he wakes up.

[ⅲ] azul ashengrotto

why did he agree to this? why couldn't he just tell jade and floyd to take and show you the beauty of the deep sea? but knowing them, they might pull something and that something was this!

stuck in a sunken ship, with you, in his octopus form! but he can't help but flush at your gentle petting towards one of his many arms, the appendage wrapping itself around your fingers. he curses at the twins under his breath.

azul tries to focus your attention on other things he has found in the ruined ship, "look at this jewel, isn't it shiny?" "no? well, uh, then what about these shells? don't they look prettier to look at?" but the more he brough items using his limbs, the more amazed you are.

"wow, your arms are useful, not to mention very beautiful." azul pauses, soaking up your words, heart fluttering. "this shade flatters you so much, i bet you look good in any color"

azul and you didn't realize how close you had gotten to each other, chests touching and eyes locked like nothing else mattered. "azul, you're very beautiful."

his heart clenches at your words, swallowing a bit and murmuring a small 'thank you.' azul's limbs tightening their grip around you. "thank you, [name]..."

[ⅳ] kalim al asim

he's a yapper like you, poor jamil is seconds away from slamming his head into a wall from your ramblings.

you're amazed at some crystal lamps he has? guess what's sitting on your desk in your dorm. what do you mean there's no such thing as enchanted jewelry in your world? don't worry [name] he'll cover you head to toe in enchanted jewelry.

but then kalim has an idea. what if he took you on a magic carpet ride? you liked it last time surely, you would want to do it again. you beam at the idea and before jamil could get a say in, kalim scoops your hand in his and drags you to the treasury where he keeps his magic carpet.

squealing in delight, the air smacked your face to which you buried yourself in kalim's clothing as you clung to him. kalim laughs with you as he guides his carpet up into the clouds. '[name] check out this view!'

you gasp at the sight; the moon was full and bright in the dark sky, stars twinkled in the dark dome, the air was crisp and cold. kalim feels his face warm up at the sight.

he'll take you anywhere you want as long as you stay by his side

[ⅴ] vil schoenheit

you remind him of rook in a way, always admiring the simplest things and always impressed by the tiniest things. he's seen the way you look at him with stars in your eyes whenever he makes sparkles fly in alchemy and potions class.

vil knows your curious and he absolutely thrives at your constant attention on whatever he's doing. be it doing his make-up, skin care routine, or doing schoolwork. as long as it's you, he doesn't mind your attention behind cameras.

currently, he's doing your daily skin care date night while you yapped away about potions and his skin care.

"you make your own skin care products right? that's amazing, i couldn't trust making my own and expect my face to come out as clear as yours." you laugh

vil huffs as his pinky scoops up some lip balm, then holds your chin gently with his pointer finger and thumb and applies the product to your lips. which he totally didn't need to do all of that when there was a small stick.

"that's why i'm here, [name], i could show you some tricks i've learned through trial and error."

[ⅵ] idia shroud

after over blotting and apologizing to everyone, idia expects his life to remain the same, occasionally having interactions with his peers, you have shown up to his dorm, thanks to ortho, and expressed your curiosity in his hair.

idia stutters out an incoherent explanation, tips of his hair burning a pink from the concentrated look in your eyes, and once he finishes, idia goes to close his door but jumps at your hand gripping onto the door. you weren't satisfied.

eventually you invite yourself inside and after countless questions about him, you mention technology from your world and that catches his attention.

he listens to your explanation, occasionally snickering at the outdated technology your world had. when you ask about the technology from this world, idia comes out a bit more from his shell and goes on a 3-hour rant about technology from Twisted Wonderland, with you occasionally asking questions.

idia hopes you don't notice the tips of his hair turning pink, but of course, you ask him, admiring the color.

[ⅶ] malleus draconia

he admires that about you. for someone who'll live for a short time, you always cherish what little time you have. malleus has lived for a long time; he's seen things come and go, and over the years, he seems to have lost the passion to seek and explore what life offered.

but being with you with your daily late-night walks, with your rambling of how you found potions being able to heal injuries and sicknesses absolutely mindboggling.

malleus listens attentively to your speech on mythical creatures back in your world, how dragons were your personal favorite, and how in your world, in fae mythology, it's rare for a fae to choose to become mortal. that certainly catches malleus' attention. (i literally just googled this so idk if this is accurate)

he's certainly never heard of this statement, but it does intrigue him. now your speech leads to questioning him or questioning about his title as one of the top five powerful mages. how do you get that title? are you born with it or do you have to prove yourself to professionals? can anyone receive this title?

malleus just smiles and answers your onslaught of questions, heart fluttering at your attentive gaze

Tip jar (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[calcifiedunderland]

hello! for your twst mermay event, may i request prompt 24 (mimicry) with ace?

would prefer a one-shot but I like hcs/imagines too, so please feel free to choose the format based on your ideas ^^ thank you!

💌 ♥️🦩 request received! Thank you for your message, your delivery is ready~

I had some back and forth with this, but I went with mer!Ace to fulfill the prompt. Hope you like it anon!! Enjoy~

Mer!Ace Trappola, ft. Mimicry

Everyone always swore Ace’s craftiness would land him into trouble one day. To be fair, it did, but not in the way they expected.

It all started when he was spying on the humans walking around the surface. Some new humans were leaving a ship, and he was bored so he’d swiped a deck of cards off a table. He’d been observing a human spin them over and over, playing tricks with them. It was mesmerizing. And he didn’t think anyone would really miss them, after all. There were 52 cards in that little box, he only nicked about ten of them anyway. There were also some shiny trinkets on the table - surely they’d just left them behind.

Eventually, some humans spotted him, shouting “thief!” Ace was about to be in some serious trouble with the surface, when suddenly a tentacle wrapped around his shoulders. “Good sir,” Azul spoke to the blustering human, “this is just one of our performers. Please excuse him, it’s his first day.”

For covering up Ace’s accidental theft, he was forced to strike a deal with Azul - perform for the humans once a day and bring in sales for the Mostro Lounge. Simple enough. The octomer was deadset on using Ace’s sleight of hand skills. Humans loved magic and merfolk - why not combine the two?

Ace done similar tricks with rocks and shells before. Using the cards should be easy. He shuffled them, mimicking what the humans had done, and began tossing them fancifully. He sat inside a tank that opened out to the sea, and humans ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ at him. This wasn’t half bad, he guessed. It was better than Riddle collaring him, anyway.

Soon, the magician mer’s popularity spread far and wide. A red mer with a heart over his eyes. You were intrigued as you walked into Mostro Lounge. The restaurant wasn’t very busy, and you sat next to one of the tanks. Technically speaking, the mer wasn’t performing right now. All that was in the tank was a piece of bright red coral, a purple anemone, and some orange eyes staring back at you.

Wait, what?

Ace grinned at you, and the anemone rose up, revealing a face with a red heart over one eye. The coral shook itself out, revealing that it was actually a tail, and you were suddenly staring at the magician mer.

He put his finger over his mouth, be quiet. You glanced around at the sparse patrons around you. No one seemed to notice Ace was there. He winked at you, tossing some seashells around the tank. You grinned in amusement, making a heart with your hands and quietly clapping.

You reached into your bag, and pulled out a deck of cards. You usually kept them whenever you were traveling, if only to play with strangers or just to amuse yourself. But now…

You caught the mermaid’s attention and began stacking it into a house. He grinned at your challenge, and started piling rocks and seashells on each other to mimic yours. You smacked the glass lightly, giggling when he splashed water over the tank’s side, water droplets making your house tumble.

Soon, Mostro Lounge closed and you were ushered outside to the docks. You sighed, smiling as you pulled your jacket around you. Maybe you’d go to visit the mermaid tomorrow.

The next day, you went back early. The crowd was huge, and you were jostled over to the edge of the tank while people ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ at the other performing merfolk. You spied a double-act with two teal eelmers currently performing. You watched them curiously, when you jolted. Water soaked through your shoulders, and you saw a flash of red.

On the other side of the tank, Ace grinned and waved at you. He pointed in a direction, follow me! An amused smile warmed your face, and you followed him. He swam alongside you, making loop-de-loops in the water and swimming upside down making you laugh. He seemed to like it when he made you laugh.

Finally you reached a ‘backstage’ area, and he surfaced. You squatted down, “y’know, I don’t think I’m really allowed back here,” you mused.

Ace shrugged nonchalantly, “it’ll be fine. Besides,” a mischievous grin alighted his face, “no one’s ever interacted with me in the tank! It gets borin’ there when I’m not performing.”

You crossed your legs, leaning on your knees. “I actually came yesterday hoping to see you. I heard you put on a good act,” you said. You frowned at the purple anemone sticking out of his hair, “what’s that about, though?”

He winced, rubbing his neck. “Yeah, uh, I sort of got into a thing with some humans? And I’m under a contract to perform. Only for the summer, though,” he said hastily when you looked very concerned.

You hummed thoughtfully, “I’ll be here all summer, too. I have a program I’m doing.” Ace flipped his tail, thinking before saying, “Y’know, if you get busy and you’re not able to see me during regular hours, I could show you a few tricks maybe.” He added, “I’m Ace, by the way. Your ace in the hole is the Ace of Hearts!~” he put his hands together in a heart, winking. You spluttered a laugh, “that’s so corny!”

“Ace! You’re on in five.” The two eelmers surfaced, zeroing in on you. “Oho? You brought a lil guppy backstage?” One of them grinned ominously at you, and you took a wary step back.

Ace stiffened, and nodded. “Alright, alright! Sheesh…” he threw you a look and you giggled, waving. “I’ll watch your performance! Catch you later!”

He grinned at you before diving in the water, “you’d better!”

I had some trouble thinking things up for this one but I got there in the end lol! Thank you for your req anon!! Xoxo Calci

[abigailovesz]

EVEN IN THE DARK

summary: a quiet girl battling anxiety and depression, caused by bullying crosses paths with jj maybank - the golden boy with a wild smile and deep wounds no one sees. what begins as a cautious friendship grows into a love that is raw, patient, and life-changing. together, they learn to navigate mental illness, grief, and the scars of their pasts, building a life defined not by perfection, but by presence. through marriage, parenthood, and healing, they choose each other again and again - proving that true love isn’t about saving someone, but standing beside them when the world goes quiet.

inspo: sailor song - gigi perez

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of anxiety and depression as well as panic attacks, a miscarriage, mentions of jjs past so abuse, self worth/insecurity, happy ending, and pregnancy.

a/n: im sorry this is so fucking long, but i took me a whole month so hope ya like it i also got part of this idea from a writing project i had done a few years ago & i somehow found it again in my room so its inspired by that ! (a few of the lines are from the paper thats why its so fuckin poetic lmao) basically the life jj deserved ayye

you had always lived in the quieter spaces of life. A soft-spoken girl with sad eyes that held more stories than you could ever say aloud. on the outside, you were just another senior trying to make it through the school year. but inside, every day felt like dragging your feet through wet sand.

anxiety and depression had become a constant hum in your mind. they crept in quietly during childhood after days of getting tormented, made fun of and rooted themselves firmly by the time you turned sixteen. mornings were battles, and nights were battlegrounds. your thoughts raced, heart often pounded without reason, and sometimes you felt like you were drowning in a sea only you could see.

no one really noticed. except for jj maybank.

to everyone else, jj was the golden boy of the outer Banks. Loud, wild, always the center of attention. the sun seemed to shine differently around him - like it couldn’t help but follow his charm. but that charm? It was a mask. one he wore every day and every hour. beneath the jokes and the laughter was a boy who had learned too young how to hide his pain. a boy with his own fears, his own scars.

jj first noticed you in the library. you sat in the farthest corner, headphones on, curled up in a way that said “do not disturb.” But something about your stillness intrigued him. not in a romantic way at first — more like recognition. He saw something familiar in her silence. He saw himself.

you both didn't talk for weeks. just quiet glances, stolen between book stacks and hallways. until one rainy afternoon, your anxiety had reached a boiling point. you'd fled class, overwhelmed and breathless, and locked yourself in the art room. you hadn’t expected anyone else to be there - but jj was.

he didn’t say anything right away. he just sat on the floor a few feet away and picked up a pencil. he started sketching - he surprisingly, was pretty good at it but never showed anyone. Silence filled the room, comfortable and understanding. When your breath slowed, you asked without looking at him, “why are you here?”

jj hesitated, then answered truthfully. “sometimes I come here when I can’t breathe.”

That was the beginning.

you both began to find each other in hidden places. the dock behind the marina at sunset. The rooftop of the old motel. your porch swing on sleepless nights. he didn’t ask your to be happy. you didn’t ask him to be strong. you both just existed - painfully, beautifully, honestly.

one night, under a sky of stars, jj had confessed the words he was always afraid to say, “I feel broken.”

you looked at him with eyes full of quiet understanding. “then we’re two pieces of the same mirror,” you said. “cracked. but still reflecting somethin' real.”

the world didn’t stop hurting. your anxiety didn’t vanish, and his demons didn’t magically disappear. but together, you both built a space where pain didn’t have to be hidden. you aughed in the darkness. cried without shame. found genuine happiness in small things - like late beach walks, or sharing a milkshake without speaking.

jj became your own anchor when the waves got too high. you became his lighthouse when the storms closed in.

love didn’t cure you both. but it gave the two of you strength. It reminded you and him that you weren’t alone - you had eachother. that being vulnerable wasn’t weakness, but bravery. And that sometimes, the most broken hearts are the ones most capable of deep love.

HIGH SCHOOL ENDED with a blur of bittersweet emotions. jj didn’t walk at graduation — not because he didn’t want to, but because he was afraid. afraid of what came next. you, however, sat in the crowd with trembling hands, hearing your name echo across the stadium speakers.

you walked that stage not because you felt strong - but because jj was in the stands, silently cheering you on.

you both stayed in the outer banks for one more summer. long, golden days filled with sunsets. jj worked at the boatyard, fixing things with his hands, while you took photographs of the coastline and wrote in your journal — pieces of poems she never showed anyone but him.

but as summer ended, change rolled in.

you had been accepted into a university a few hours away to study psychology - you wanted to understand your own mind and help others like you. jj, on the other hand, had no clear path. no college plans. just a restless heart and a fear of becoming his father.

you both fought the night before you left.

“I don’t belong in that world, baby” jj said, pacing your tiny bedroom.

“you belong anywhere you choose to be,” you argued, tears threatening. “you’re not broken, jj. you’re scared. like I was. like I still am.”

he didn’t come to you the next morning. but he left a note tucked into your bag.

“I don’t know how to be in the world without you in it but I want to learn how to be worthy of standing next to you in it.”

you both spent the first few months apart aching in different ways. you struggled with new routines, panic attacks in lecture halls, and the isolation of pretending to be okay. jj picked up extra shifts, and started visiting john b more and more.

you both wrote letters. real ones. Ink on paper. because some things felt too special to say out loud. jj’s handwriting was messy, rushed, but his words were always honest.

and you always wrote back.

the next summer, he showed up at your apartment, sunburned and smiling. “there ya are," he let out a long breath. "missed you - everyday baby." you threw your arms around him, eyes shutting in relief.

years passed. slowly, you both grew - not into new people, but into fuller versions of yourselves. both had setbacks. panic attacks, sleepless nights, old fears rising easily. but they never faced them alone again.

eventually, jj applied to a mechanics program in the same city away from outer banks and near your college. he fell in love with working on boats, but also with the quiet way your eyes still lit up when he walked into the room.

you graduated with honors. at your ceremony, you read a speech about healing in imperfect ways. you thanked your professors. your therapist. and one “unexpected person who reminded me I didn’t have to be okay to be loved. I just had to be real.”

jj proposed on that same rooftop you both used to sneak onto back in high school. no audience. no flash. just a small ring, shaky hands, and these words -

“you once told me we were pieces of the same mirror. I think we’ve built something.. new now, y'know?”

And you, smiling through tears, whispered - “yes. always yes.”

YEARS LATER, your house sat at the edge of a coastal town, far enough from the chaos but close enough to the sea that jj could still smell the salt in the morning. the house was small — two bedrooms, sun-drenched windows, and walls lined with your photographs. It wasn’t perfect. but it was theirs.

jj now ran his own repair shop by the docks. he never called himself a business owner - that felt too fancy to him - but he was proud of what he’d built. he still had bad days. the kind where the weight in his chest made it hard to move, where old memories were louder than he’d like. but he knew, he had you.

you both didn’t have children - not yet, maybe not ever. It was something you'd talked about gently, honestly, without pressure. you both had been through too much to rush anything.

love did not have to look like everyone else's.

but then, it happened.

you were ten weeks pregnant. you both hadn’t told many people. just the close circle of jj's second family: john b, Pope, everyone through a phone call. a cautious kind of joy had filled the house since the first test. jj had kissed your belly every night like a quiet promise, and you had finally started to believe you could do this - that your body was safe enough for life.

but that afternoon, something shifted. a dull ache turned into sharp pain. then came the blood.

at first, you panicked. “maybe it’s normal,” you whispered, standing in the bathroom, knuckles white as you gripped the sink. “spotting happens… sometimes.”

jj found you there, pale and trembling, your hands shaking as you tried to google symptoms. he didn’t say anything at first - just knelt and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.

“we’re goin' to the doctor,” he said, calm. but his grip tightened slightly. “right now.”

you both sat in the sterile ultrasound room, you stared at the ceiling, jj clutching her hand like a lifeline. the silence from the tech stretched longer than it should have. then came the words you'd feared: “I’m so sorry… there’s no heartbeat.”

you didn’t cry right away. just nodded, numb, like someone who’d forgotten how to speak. jj looked stunned - like someone had yanked the air from his lungs - but he kept his eyes on her. Always on her.

When you both got home, you went straight to the bedroom and curled up on your side of the bed, hand resting instinctively where life had once been. “I shouldn’t have gotten attached,” you whispered.

jj sat beside her, silent for a long time. then he said, voice low and trembling, “fuck, I was already in love with someone I never got to meet.”

that’s when the tears came. for both of you.

but you knew you were still loved and okay with jj. you could try again.

IT STARTED WITH a test left on the bathroom counter. you sat on the tile floor, knees tucked to your chest, staring at the result with wide, disbelieving eyes. jj came home from the shop covered in grease, and when he found her there, silent and pale, he knelt beside her.

when you showed him the test, he didn’t speak at first. just layed his head against your shoulder. after a long, quiet breath, he whispered, “we'll be okay, it won't happen again baby.”

pregnancy - again - wasn’t perfect. your anxiety sharpened with each passing month. the questions, the what-ifs, the nights lying awake wondering if you’d be enough, if it would happen again.

When your daughter, lena maybank, was born, you cried harder than you ever had — not just from pain, but from awe. lena had her mother’s deep, thoughtful eyes and her father’s blond curls.

jj held her for the first time with hands that used to shake at the thought of being a father. but as he looked down at the tiny child, something in him stilled. “hello, girly,” he whispered. “you look just like me.”

parenthood didn’t erase your's and jj's mental struggles. In fact, it brought some of them to the surface. sleepless nights triggered jj’s old anger - not at anyone, but at the helplessness he sometimes felt. your depression came like a fog you hadn’t expected, even after all your experience.

but now they had language. and tools. and each other.

one evening, after putting lena to bed, jj and you sat on the porch, hands entwined like they always had been. “I never thought we’d make it here,” he whispered.

you kissed the side of his neck. “I did. because I knew we’d keep showing up. that’s what love is. and now we’re teaching her how to do the same.”

you then rested your head on his shoulder, the sound of the ocean in the distance, lena sleeping peacefully inside.

and jj knew, he would never ever be alone again.

[staratinia]

Handcuffed

This work contains smut - minors do not interact

Pairing: Mello x Fem!reader x Near

Synopsis: Mello and Near are handcuffed together and the cuffs will not come off unless certain specific circumstances occur...they require your assistance.

Warnings: Explicit smut

A/N: I know this is different.. I had to get creative. I felt a forced situation was the only way Mello and Near would ever do this together. For the anon who suggested poly- I hope you enjoy this.

wc: 1.8k

_________________________________________

You’re curled sideways in an office chair, one leg draped over the armrest, a cold energy drink sweating in your palm. The ops room is a wreck of cluttered desks, empty takeout boxes, loose wires, the smell of three different kinds of instant noodles clinging to the air like regret.

Mello’s pacing like he’s got a bomb ticking under his skin. Every few laps, he runs a hand through his messy blond hair like it personally offended him.

Near’s on the floor, cross-legged in a sea of puzzle pieces, holding a stylus between two fingers and methodically building a tower of numbered data cards. He hasn't looked up in at least forty-five minutes.

Matt’s the only one enjoying himself. He’s half-sprawled on a desk, red goggles pushed up to his forehead, Game Boy forgotten in his lap, a smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth as he digs through a dusty lockbox labeled ARCHIVE: CLASSIFIED – UNUSABLE ARTIFACTS.

“Hey,” he calls lazily. “You guys ever hear of ‘conflict-resolution cuffs’?”

Near doesn’t respond. Mello doesn’t stop pacing. “The fuck is that, a kink toy?”

Matt pulls something shiny from the box. Metal glints under the overheads—sleek cuffs, silver but inscribed with something that shimmers when he tilts them.

"Magical containment? Binding rituals? You know how they loved that esoteric bullshit"

Near speaks without looking up. “Most of the Archive is unstable or unproven. Do not engage with any items marked in red.”

“They weren’t red,” Matt says, squinting. “They were.... more of a soft rose gold.”

Mello mutters, “If this is another one of your dumbass jokes—”

“Relax.” Matt flicks the cuffs open one-handed, grinning. “They probably don’t even—”

He’s suddenly beside Near. Near looks up. First mistake. Matt snaps one cuff onto Near’s wrist with a sharp click.

“Matt.” Near’s voice doesn’t change, but his fingers freeze mid-stack.

Mello whirls. “Are you fucking kidding me—”

Before you can say a word, Matt turns and slaps the second cuff onto Mello’s wrist.

Click.

There’s a flash of cold light—like a camera bulb and static hitting skin—and then the air feels wrong. Heavier. You feel it. The room does. The whole dynamic shifts.

Mello’s hand twitches. The chain between their wrists is taut. Seamless. No lock. No hinge. No keyhole.

“Matt—” you start, rising.

Matt’s already backing toward the hallway, arms raised in surrender. “Hey, look. If it makes you feel better, I genuinely didn’t think it would work. I was just bored.”

“You moron!” Mello yells, yanking at the cuff. The chain doesn’t even creak. “You cuffed me to him?!”

“You’re welcome!” Matt’s already halfway out the door, grabbing his console on the way. “You two have unresolved tension! This is basically therapy!”

“This is magical fucking bondage therapy!” Mello shouts.

Matt winks at you before disappearing into the hallway. “Good luck, sweetheart. You’re their emotional support peacemaker now.”

The door slams shut.

You've been reading up. The archives are vast. Obscure tomes on magical devices. You finally find it—Soulbind Cuffs: R13 series. Intended as a last-resort bonding tool for high-stakes diplomacy or… couples therapy??

You read the fine print.

Cuffs will only disengage upon shared, consensual emotional alignment. Intimacy accelerates process. Completion of mutual release—emotional, physical—breaks the tether.

You reread that line five times.

Then look up. The boys are glaring at each other across the coffee table, one shared wrist between them. Mello’s sweating, hair stuck to his cheek. Near is tapping a Rubik’s Cube, unblinking.

You clear your throat.

“So. I figured it out.”

Two sets of eyes snap to you.

“They won’t come off unless you both—” you gesture vaguely “—achieve mutual climax. Together.”

Dead silence.

Mello goes red instantly. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s magic!” you throw your hands up. “It doesn’t care about gender or preference or grudges. It wants to see two bonded souls climax together. Emotionally. Physically. Whatever. It's metaphysical synergy.”

Near’s head tilts. “A forced sexual ritual.”

“Don’t call it that,” you groan.

Mello’s voice drops. “We’re not doing it.”

Near nods. “Agreed.”

You sigh. “Then you’ll be like this forever.”

“I’d rather die,” Mello snarls.

“I’d rather wait,” Near says blandly.

You just shake your head.

Mello growls, yanks at the cuff again—still nothing.

You don’t speak either. You just walk toward them. Unhurried. Hands loose at your sides. You kneel in front of them—between them—rest your palms on your thighs. Steady. Present.

“I’m not saying you two have to fuck each other.” That gets their attention. You breathe. “But I can help. If you let me.”

Mello narrows his eyes. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Near’s eyes are fixed on your mouth. “You believe... you could stimulate both of us to simultaneous orgasm?” His voice is calm, clinical, but there’s a flicker there. A pulse under his skin.

You sigh. “You’re the ones chained together. Unless you’ve got a spell I don’t know about, this is the only way.”

Mello rubs his face. “I can’t believe this is happening. With him.”

“I’m not pleased either,” Near replies, adjusting the angle of his knees.

“Oh shut up, you don’t feel anything.”

“I feel irritation...you are the source.”

_____________

The room’s warm. Lamp low. No one’s talking anymore. The air feels loaded, like static—like something wants to snap.

You’ve peeled your shirt off, unhurried, sitting cross-legged in front of them on the rug. Mello’s leaned back on his hands, arms tense. Near sits perfectly upright, but his jaw flexes.

They’re both watching you. Their bodies still separated by the inch-thick chain, wrists close but nothing else. They refuse to touch.

So you crawl forward.

“This isn’t about you two liking each other,” you murmur, reaching up to rest a hand on each of their thighs. “It’s about needing each other. Right now. In this moment. To get out of this.”

Mello doesn’t answer. He’s biting the inside of his cheek. Near nods once, robotically.

You start slow. Fingers first, brushing over the front of Mello’s pants. He’s already half-hard. No surprise. All that rage, tension, frustration—it’s sitting right there under the surface, waiting to break.

He lets out a breath through his nose, sharp and ragged. “Don’t tease.”

“I’m not,” you whisper.

You turn to Near, and his eyes are on your hands, blinking slow. His cock is delicate, flushed against pale thighs. You palm it gently. He exhales.

Mello scoffs. “Bet he’s never even been touched.”

“By people with manners? No,” Near replies evenly.

“Fucking hell—” Mello grits

“You’re really responsive,” you say, and smirk when he glares.

You turn to Near, he doesn’t even blink. Just watches the whole time as your hand slides against him. His breath stutters when your fingers close around him.

You stroke them both—two different bodies, two different pulses. Mello wants pressure. Speed. Your wrist aches trying to keep up. Near needs rhythm, precision. He twitches if you deviate. They’re both trying so hard not to show how much they want this.

“Still emotionless, Near?”

His voice is breathy, distant. “Physical responses are not proof of emotional depth.”

Mello barks a laugh. “You’re hard as fuck. What’s that—data collection?”

“Observation,” Near says, eyes fluttering as your thumb brushes his tip.

Two different rhythms. Mello fast, tight, frantic. Near slow and steady, your thumb circling the head of his cock in lazy little patterns that make him twitch. They’re both panting now, shoulders rising and falling like they’ve run miles.

Mello’s eyes are glued to your chest. “Fucking take it off.”

You smile and unhook your bra. Mello groans. Near reaches up like he’s unsure if he can, but you guide his hand to your breast and gasp as his thumb brushes your nipple.

Your moan gets both of them to freeze.

“She’s loud,” Mello mutters. “You like that?”

Near presses his palm against you. “It may assist with... alignment.”

Mello snorts. “Just admit it turns you on.”

“Admitting that would alter the results,” Near murmurs.

You laugh softly, then lean back to peel the rest of your clothes off.

When you’re fully naked, they stop arguing. They’re just watching. You crawl up into Near’s lap, straddle him, and reach back for Mello.

You guide him behind you, feel the burn in your thighs as you press back into his body. Mello groans as his cock glides between your cheeks, hands gripping your hips.

“Still want to kill each other?” you whisper.

Near is breathless. “Temporarily... distracted.”

Mello’s mouth is against your neck now. “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

You slide down onto Near first. His cock fills you, inch by inch, and his breath punches out of his lungs. He’s frozen beneath you, gripping your thighs like they’re lifelines. Then you brace yourself and reach back—

Mello pushes in slowly. Gritting his teeth. “Jesus, fuck—”

You’re full. Too full. Both of them buried deep in you, your whole body trembling as you try to breathe around the feeling. They don’t move. Just pant. Wait.

“Move,” Mello growls. “Please.”

You do. It starts slow—grinding your hips, feeling both of them rub against your walls, your insides pulsing around them. Mello thrusts once, sharp. You cry out. Near groans softly, his head tipped back.

You ride Near with long, rolling motions, your clit brushing against his stomach. Mello fucks into you harder now, faster, his hands sliding up your spine. One of his fingers tangles in your hair, pulling just enough to make your breath catch.

“You’re taking it,” he growls. “So fucking good.”

“She’s very warm,” Near says softly. “Tight. Applying correct amount of pressure.”

“You say that like you’re grading an assignment,” Mello snaps, but his voice cracks on the last word. He’s close. So close.

You’re shaking now—full, stretched to your limits, Near seated deep inside you while Mello drives in from behind, his pace steady but cruel, testing your limits.

You’re not just between them—you’re the bridge. Their bodies only joined through yours. And they’re not giving in easily.

“I don’t see how this is supposed to help,” Mello growls against your shoulder. His breath is ragged, cock twitching inside you with every grind. “He’s not even touching you right.”

Near blinks up at you from below, cheeks flushed, hands tightening on your waist. “Incorrect. Her pupils dilate when I stroke her clit counterclockwise.”

You laugh through a gasp. “He’s not wrong.”

Near’s thumb slides between you, slow and exact, pressing just under your clit in a way that makes your body jerk. Mello’s grip tightens. You feel the cuff pulse with magic, heat flaring between their wrists like it knows they’re teetering.

You roll your hips forward, squeezing both of them from inside. Mello groans. “Shit—don’t do that—”

You smile, breathless. “You close already?”

“I’m not—” he growls, but he thrusts harder, desperate to regain control.

Near’s voice is thin now. “I believe your pelvic rhythm is faltering.”

You moan, sharp, overstimulated now. Near’s cock presses deliciously against that tender spot inside you, and Mello’s rutting deep, his thrusts rough enough to make you tremble.

“Come on Mello, prove you’re better,” you whisper. “Fuck me harder.”

That does it.

Mello grabs your hips and slams into you, rhythm quickening, chasing something now. You gasp, clutching Near’s shoulders, your body caught between them like a live wire. The air smells like sweat and sex and magic burning out.

Your moan cuts them off—high and broken, thighs trembling as your orgasm threatens again, creeping up, so damn close.

You clench around both of them. They both twitch. You slow your movement just enough to make them groan.

“Don’t stop,” Mello growls, panting now. “I swear to god—”

“She’s edging us,” Near says, tone somehow still flat.

“She’s gonna kill us.”

You’re close. But you don’t let go yet.

You slow it down again—grind forward, rolling your hips just right. Near twitches inside you, whimpering, his forehead pressed to your chest.

You glance over your shoulder. Mello’s watching you both like he’s been denied air. You lean back into him, and he licks a stripe up your spine. He’s losing control. You can feel it.

“She’s gonna cum,” he pants. “You can feel it. She’s—fuck—she’s squeezing so hard—”

“We have to time it,” Near gasps.

“I know.”

Mello’s hand snakes around you, joining Near’s, both thumbs pressing your clit now in rhythm. You scream—raw and real—as your orgasm surges up, almost there—

But you don’t fall- Not yet. You ride the edge. Over and over. Your body clenching, thighs shaking, everything strung tight as they both work you toward it. One more second. One more thrust. One more slow, circling press—

And then Mello snaps.

“Now—fuck—now—”

Near arches under you, voice breaking.

And you let go.

It hits like fire—every nerve bursting open, you're clamping down, you scream—legs shaking, body convulsing around them as you lock down hard, milking them. as both of them cry out, twitching inside you, pouring into you, their hands locking on your body as they lose everything.

The cuffs explode.

A flash of white light. A high-pitched crack. Metal hitting the floor with twin clinks.

You collapse, limp and slick with sweat, breath heaving in your throat.

Mello slumps forward, panting against your back.

Near goes still beneath you, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling fast, but even.

Nobody speaks. Until—

“You edged me for fifteen minutes,” Mello says, voice hoarse.

You smile. “You needed the attitude adjustment.”

“She’s... efficient,” Near murmurs.

You roll off them with a groan. “I need water”

No one moves for a while. Then Mello says, “You’re seriously not gonna look at me right now, are you?”

“I’m preserving what little sanity I have left,” Near murmurs.

“You literally came while I was inside her.”

“So did you.”

“I hate this.”

From the hallway, you hear:

“Yo, did it work?” Matt’s voice. “Are the chains off?”

Mello throws the broken cuff at him. “I hope your controller gets stuck on ‘up.’”

Matt grins and ducks. You laugh. Your thighs hurt. Your whole body aches. But the cuffs are gone. “Next time he plays matchmaker, I’m burning the Archive.”

[nekonaps0]

Crown & Claw

Chapter 3: Tides of Fire

✦chapter 1 / chapter 2

✦fem!reader

✦pirateAU / pirate Leona / prince Malleus / princess reader / Leoan x reader x Malleus / kidnapping / violence / blood

The sky had been darkening all afternoon, an ominous dark clouds spreading across the horizon. By evening, the air was heavy and cold, thick with the taste of salt and the threat of rain.

You stood at the edge of the main deck, your cloak soaked through and clinging to your skin. The storm was growing louder now. Wind howled like a wild beast circling the ship, shaking the rigging and whipping the sails into frantic thrashing. The first fat drops of rain began to fall, cold, merciless, stinging your cheeks and soaking your lashes.

Lightning cracked overhead, sharp and brilliant, followed by a thunderclap that rattled the very bones of the ship.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, shivering—but it wasn’t just the cold. A sense of dread gnawed at your heart. Something is not alright.

Leona stood at the prow, his silhouette a dark, sharp-edged figure against the roiling sky. His coat billowed in the gale, hair whipping around his face. His emerald eyes were narrowed against the rain, locked on the distant horizon.

He didn’t speak, but the tension in his body screamed war.

Ruggie appeared beside him, scarf sodden and clinging to his neck. He rubbed his arms and muttered, “Storm’s picking up fast. The sea’s turnin’ wild.”

Leona’s voice was low, steady, dangerous. “Good. Let it rage. It’ll cover our tracks.”

Ruggie shot him a grim grin. “You really think Malleus’ll follow us into this?”

Leona didn’t hesitate. “He will. He’s not just after me… he’s after her.”

You felt his words like a stone dropped into your chest. You hoped he would come, you wanted him to free you from this nightmare. You wanted your old life back. Even if you didn’t choose that life you didn’t hate it. You started to feel comfortable and safe… but when Leona appeared everything disappeared in a blink of an eye. Leona kept saying what he did was a “favor to you”. Favor my ass… your life starts to become enjoyable and he selfishly ruined it because… you hate him… really hate him…

Then, just as another fork of lightning tore the sky apart, Jack ran up the steps from below deck, breathless.

“Ship on the horizon!” he shouted. “Bearing black and green sails!”

Your breath caught.

Diasomnia colors.

He’s here… he really came for you…

Leona’s expression twisted into a feral snarl. “Tch. So the prince brought a damn warship.”

Ruggie swore under his breath. “He didn’t come to talk.”

From the misty curtain of rain, you could barely make it out at first, but then the form of a sleek, obsidian vessel emerged from the fog, massive and menacing. Its sails bore the emblem of the Draconia crest, and emerald light pulsed from runes etched into the hull.

The ship glided like a predator, too silent, too swift for its size, cutting through the waves like a blade. As it approached, the sky above it churned unnaturally—clouds crackling with lightning. Magic.

A bolt of fire suddenly exploded from the warship's forward deck, tearing across the sky.

The blast hit, shattering it in a deafening roar. Splinters of wood rained down, tangled with sail and rigging. You screamed and ducked, the impact slamming through your bones.

Leona appeared at your side in a blink, yanking you behind a stack of crates. His arms shielded your body as debris scattered across the deck.

“Get down!” he barked.

The deck trembled violently under your feet. Somewhere below, you heard the timbers of the ship groan in protest.

The storm was no longer just weather.

It was war.

With another clap of thunder, Malleus appeared on the deck. His body silhouetted by the green fire glowing behind him. The wind screamed louder with his arrival, as if the very sea feared his wrath.

Behind him, Diasomnia soldiers swung down on ropes to the enemy ship, landing on deck with eerie grace. They wore slick black armor, glinting with runes. Their movements were sharp and trained, like shadows come to life.

Leona stood to face them, sword in one hand, magic crackling in the other.

“They came for a fight,” he growled. “We’ll give them one.”

Jack let out a guttural roar, already charging. Ruggie tightened his grip on his twin daggers, face pale but determined.

The clash was instant.

Steel rang against steel. Magic tore through the storm. Cries of pain and rage echoed across the deck. Rain and blood mingled on the slippery wood.

You ducked low behind the crate, heart racing, the chaos overwhelming. You fell the air leaving your lungs while the blood mixed with the rain water slowly flowed to your feet’s. You were shaking, you never experienced war up close, your eyes fixed on your feet while you hugged your knees tightly, wishing for that all this stop, that all this just a dream and you just need to wake up from this nightmare, but wen you felt the blood sink into the fabric of your skirt you knew exactly that is not a dream, it’s all real. You close your eyes shut, feeling the tears of fear blur your vision.

A Diasomnia soldier lunged at Leona, blade aimed at his throat.

Leona spun, sword flashing, and slashed across the man’s chest. A bolt of lightning shot from his palm, paralyzing the attacker mid-scream. The soldier collapsed, twitching.

“Fight or die!” Leona roared to his crew.

Jack felled two soldiers with brutal precision, his fists a blur even as blood streamed from his brow. Ruggie ducked a magic blast, then leapt onto an attacker’s back, stabbing downward through the gaps in their armor.

Still more enemies swarmed the deck. They moved with coordinated precision, fueled by the Prince’s fury.

You barely had time to breathe when Malleus walked on the deck, the impact shaking the entire ship.

Rain sliding off his black armor like tears down stone. His eyes found you instantly. He didn’t look at anyone else.

“Let her go,” he said firmly. But his voice cut through the storm like a sword.

Leona stepped between you and Malleus, emerald eyes ablaze. “Not a chance.”

Malleus’s magic shimmered around him like a storm held barely in check. “You have no right to keep her. You drag her with you against her will.”

Leona’s laugh was sharp. “That’s rich coming from you, don’t you think?”

You could barely hear them over the roar of the storm, but the fury between them was palpable. Old hatred. New wounds.

The battle raged around them. You caught glimpses of your would-be rescuers and captors locked in brutal combat, cloaks whipping, blades flashing, magic scorching the deck.

A streak of lightning hit the foremast. Flames burst upward, turning part of the deck into a wall of fire. Through the smoke and rain, you saw soldiers falling, pirates being overwhelmed.

Jack fought on, bloodied and furious. Ruggie limped, clutching his side, but refused to fall.

Leona scanned the chaos and cursed.

“Fuck… We can’t hold them. Not like this.” His eyes locked with Jack’s. “Retreat. Now!”

The pirates hesitated looking at their captain and then the soldiers.

Jack gave a curt nod. “To the boats!”

You felt Leona’s hand on your arm, firm, insistent, yanking you up from the floor and also from your frozen state.

“We’re leaving.” He claimed.

“No!” You pushed at him, panic rising. “Let me go! Im not going anywhere with you! Unhand me right now!” you screamed at him and wiggled in his firm, strong arms.

His grip tightened. “You’re not going back to him. Not in this storm. Not while he’s like that.”

He hauled you toward the starboard side, where Ruggie had kicked down a rope ladder.

But Malleus stepped forward, hand outstretched, voice cracking with grief.

“You have no right for this. Unhand her if you don’t want more blood on your ship.”

The sadness in his voice froze you.

“My love…” he said, as rain dripped from his dark hair, his emerald eyes glowing with unshed fury. “I came for you. Please come home with me.”

Leona pulled you tighter against him, backing toward the rail. “You think she’s yours just because of a title? A ring? She doesn’t belong to you.”

Malleus’s voice broke. “She is my fiancée! She’s my soon becoming queen and wife.”

Your breath caught.

“She never agreed,” Leona snarled. “Did she?” He takes slow little steps backward. “You claimed her like a dragon claiming his gold, keeping it locked, hiding away from the world.” He grinned “Too take away the dragon loneliness… am I right?”

You looked between them, torn, trembling, heart hammering.

The storm crashed around you. Lightning streaked the sky. Fire burned on the deck.

Malleus glared at him, the storm becomes wilder and lightning’s flickering in the air

Leona smirked and tilted his head to the side “what’s the matter ,highness? Did I hit a nerve?”

“Release her, that’s my finally warning Kingscholar. Release her or I make sure you and the rest of your crew sink into the dark depths of the ocean.”

And then Leona stepped onto the rail, picking you up in bridal style. “That’s a tempting offer but I think I would prefer doing the drowning without your help.” he look at Malleus with a huge grin.

“What are you doing?! Put me down immediately!!” You kicked and screamed, hitting his chest, trying to get out of his arms.

Malleus’s hand shot out. “Don’t—!”

But it was too late.

Leona jumped.

The world vanished into black water and screaming wind.

The fall was a blur. Cold consumed you. Salt filled your lungs. You kicked and thrashed, caught in Leona’s iron grip. Everything went drak, with your last breath you screamed Malleus name before the unconsciousness hit you

.

.

.

Back on the deck, Malleus landed hard, soaked and trembling with fury. His soldiers fell back, the pirates vanishing over the rails or into the sea.

But you were gone.

Stolen from him again.

He stared into the black water, eyes glowing like fire. “Go after the boats. Catch the rest of his crew…”

Sebek slowly walked closer carefully approaching, head down “My lord… what if Miss Y/N and the pirate…”

“They are not dead… Leona Kingscholar a lot of things but definitely not dumb. He wouldn’t take Y/N with him if he wouldn’t have a plan” he slowly turns around facing the green haired soldier. His eyes burning with fury “he can’t hide for long… and we must catch him… dead or alive.”

Sebek sinked on one knee “Yes my lord…”

He would find you.

Even if he had to burn the ocean itself.

..............................................................................................................................

To be continued...

Holy moly… well… I hope you guys like it✨

[brownsugarcoffy]

The Touch of The Haint Blues |1|

Summary:

After losing his twin brother in a bloody clash with men more monstrous than they seemed, Stack wanders the South as a freshly-turned vampire—alone, hunted by the sun and haunted by regret.

When a ghostly melody pulls him to a lonely house by the sea in South Carolina, he meets Zara—a mysterious and seductive woman who knows his real name, his past, and perhaps... his fate. What Stack doesn’t know is that Zara isn’t human. She’s been waiting in the shadows for something like him.

Characters: Zara(OC) x Stacks" Ellais" Moore (Vampire)

Themes: Gullah Geehee Folklore, Supernatural, Boohag, N-word, Vulgar Language, Sexual Content, Vampire Lore, Violence, Death & more...

NOT EDITED

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

The night sky over Delta, Mississippi, was thick with smoke and silence. The juke joint was a hollow skeleton now, its beams blackened and groaning, fire having eaten its way through the soul of the place. What was once alive with music, laughter, and heat was now a burnt offering to death.

Stack emerged from the shadows just past sundown. The heat still licked the air, and ash drifted around him like slow-moving snow. He hadn’t moved since the light came—hiding inside the cold crawlspace under the juke, away from the sun that threatened to burn him back to hell.

Everything outside was burning.

The bodies were still there. Scattered. Some facedown. Some curled where they'd fallen. Klansmen in regular clothes—no robes, no hoods. Just men. Smoke had known. Knew something was off. Knew tha buying the mill from that white men was a mistake. Stack should have listened.

He stepped over blood, boot prints, and buckshot. And then he saw him.

Smoke.

His twin.

Face turned to the sky, one hand still wrapped around the barrel of a smoking gun, his abdomen soaked red.

Next to his body lay the mojo bag. The one Annie gave him. The one Smoke always wore—never took off. Except now.

Stack dropped to his knees.

He didn’t touch the bag. He couldn’t. The magic burned his flesh now. It warded off evil, and that’s what he was.

“You stubborn nigga,” Stack muttered, voice cracking.

He looked at his brother’s face. Strong jaw, mouth slightly open like he was mid-word when the final breath left him. Smoke fought like hell. Stack could see it in the bodies around him, in the drag marks, in the twisted limbs of every man who tried to kill him.

And they almost did.

But not before Smoke took them all with him.

Including Remmick.

The pond just outside the mill still glistened in the moonlight. That’s where it happened—where Smoke found Sammie screaming, Remmick trying to pull him under like some demon. Smoke didn’t hesitate. He dragged that thing into the water and drove a stake straight through Remmick’s chest.

Remmick didn’t die easy.

But when the sun rose, its light burst over the trees and hit the pond. It caught Remmick mid-scream, flames rushing up his skin like paper catching fire. He went up in a flash, nothing left but ashes in the wind.

And the rest of them—the clan of vampires that had been turned last night—they burned too. Every last one of them. Smoke made sure of it.

Now, everyone was dead.

Annie and Smoke—gone.

The Klansmen silenced by Smoke’s last stand.

Mary vanished into the Delta night, shadows swallowing her whole.

Sammie? He was the last hope. He was probably back home by now, safe…or so he prayed. If praying still worked for him.

Stack sat beside his twin’s body for what felt like hours. Thinking. Remembering. Cursing.

He thought about Annie.

How she looked at him when he bit her—her lips trembling, blood on her neck, her voice whispering Smoke’s name.

She had begged Smoke: “If I ever get bit, kill me. Promise me.”

And Stack had crossed the line.

Not to save her.

But because he was starving.

Because the hunger had taken over.

Because somewhere deep in his rotted heart, he was afraid of being alone.

Remmick knew that.

Remmick fed that fear. Whispered in his mind like a devil.

You’ll be alone forever.

Mary had made the change. Not Remmick. The girl from his youth. The one with laughter like river water and eyes that used to make him feel whole.

She came to the juke joint last night with a soft voice and promises. She claimed she could help the juke survive, but somehow, she came back with gold coins and a sultry grin.

Then she kissed him, and Stack let his old flame ignite the lust in him that he's been keeping down for weeks.

Then she turned him. It was painful and eventually became painless. He didn’t ask. He didn’t want it, but he let her.

Because loneliness is its own kind of hunger.

Now he hated her for it.

Not because she lied—though she did.

Not because she vanished into the night when things went bad, but because she gave him this curse and left him to carry it alone.

Stack rose slowly, gently lifting Smoke’s body into his arms. He took him beyond the ashes, past the ruined mill, into the brush where the earth was soft. There, with a half-bent shovel, he dug until his arms ached and his bones screamed.

He wrapped Smoke in the old dance floor tarp.

Lowered him in.

Didn’t cry.

Just stacked stones after.

No cross. Just a place.

He reached into his coat and pulled out tobacco and paper. Smoke had always smoked Lucky Strikes, but since the war, he couldn’t roll his own. Hands shook too much. Stack always did it for him.

He pinched the tobacco, sealed the paper, lit it with a match.

Brought it to his lips.

The smoke curled in the air like a ghost.

“To my twin,” he whispered. “Hope you find peace… with Annie and your baby girl.”

He took a long drag, eyes on the grave.

“You were right,” he added, voice low. “All money ain’t good money.”

He flicked the match into the dirt.

Turned his back to the grave.

And walked off into the night, smoke trailing behind him like a shadow that would never leave.

Stack wandered.

Through Mississippi. Into Alabama. Down through the swamps of Louisiana. Night after night. State after state. Feeding only when the hunger gripped too tight to ignore.

He learned things.

Learned how to slip into someone’s thoughts like fog under a door. How to pull strings in their minds—twist memory, erase moments, bend wills.

Make them forget he was ever there.

He couldn’t walk in daylight. So he learned to hide. In basements, root cellars, inside hollow trees. Learned to feel the shape of the sun behind his eyelids.

Time blurred. Faces changed.

The guilt didn’t.

One night, after so many miles that his boots had become thin and his soul thinner, he heard it.

The ocean.

A sound different from the rivers and swamps he had wandered through. Bigger. Deeper. Endless.

Waves crashing like slow thunder.

He followed it. Body moving without thinking.

And then he stumbled on a sign, half-hidden behind brush and Spanish moss.

St. Helena Island, South Carolina.

He stood there in the dark, the salt thick in the air, the wind off the water brushing over his skin like a whisper.

For the first time in a long time, Stack didn’t know what he was looking for.

But he knew he had to keep going.

The humid night air of St. Helena Island clung to Stack like a second skin—thick, heavy, and unforgiving. Weeks had passed since he laid Smoke to rest beneath the cracked earth beside the old mill. The weight of loss settled in his chest, colder than the night and sharper than any hunger clawing inside him.

The distant roar of the ocean teased his senses, calling him toward salt air and crashing waves. Drawn by some unseen pull, he stepped through tangled woods until the sand cooled beneath his boots and the scent of jasmine hung heavy in the breeze.

Then—there was the voice.

A slow, haunting melody that slithered through the dark, wrapping around him like smoke. It was soft, seductive, but beneath it lingered something darker—a promise, a warning.

Stack paused, heart pounding, instincts sharp. The song led him to a small white house, bathed in silver moonlight, standing alone near the beach. One window cracked open, letting the music spill out like a dark invitation.

On the porch stood a woman.

Her gown flowed like water, shimmering under the moon’s gaze. A blue scarf wrapped around her hair framed a face both beautiful and dangerous, eyes gleaming like polished stones. Her smile was slow, knowing—like she held secrets meant to unravel him.

“Well, well,” she said, voice smooth as silk and twice as sharp. “What brings a lost soul like you to my little corner of the world?”

Stack’s jaw clenched, eyes narrowing. Lost? No one was lost who survived what he had. But he played the part, voice low and cautious. “Just passing through. Lookin’ for nothing more than silence.”

Her laughter was a soft wind, teasing but unreadable. “Silence can be the loudest thing of all.”

Stack took a measured step forward, every movement deliberate, his voice slick but guarded. “Maybe. But sometimes the loudest things are best left unheard.”

She cocked her head, curiosity flickering in those dark eyes. “You carry a storm behind those eyes, stranger. What’s your name?”

Stack’s grin was slow, careful—a smirk meant to keep walls intact. “Names don’t mean much in the dark.”

Her smile deepened, playful but edged with something sharp. “Fair enough. But I know you’re no ordinary wanderer.”

Stack’s gaze hardened. “Maybe I’m just a ghost looking for a place to rest.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, the night seeming to hold its breath. “Or maybe you’re the storm itself.”

Stack’s breath hitched, not from fear but from the cold thrill of challenge. He studied her—the way she moved, the way her voice dripped with mystery. He could sense the power beneath the surface, something older, something dangerous.

He didn’t trust her.

Not yet.

But something about her song, her presence, was pulling him in deeper than he wanted to go.

Whatever she was, Stack knew this was no ordinary meeting.

And he wasn’t ready to let her see the man behind the name.

The night stretched quiet between them, the hush of waves brushing against the shore in the distance. Crickets sang low and steady from the brush, but even they seemed to dim in her presence.

Stack stayed in the shadows just beyond the porch’s light, his stance relaxed on the surface—but every muscle beneath his skin was coiled, ready. He knew danger when it wore a pretty face. Knew how temptation often came dressed in silk and soft melodies. And this woman—whatever she was—had the air of someone born to unearth buried things.

Zara leaned against the porch post, folding her arms slowly, eyes never leaving him. She looked amused. Or maybe curious.

"You don’t talk much, Elias Moore," she said, so casually, like she’d plucked his name out of the breeze.

Stack went still.

The porch light flickered behind her, casting her face in shifting shadows, but he didn’t miss the slight upturn of her lips.

That name—his name. His real name. Not the one he'd gone by since he'd started drifting. Not the one he gave strangers in juke joints or to the people he fed on. Elias Moore was a name tied to a life long gone. A name only a few still remembered—most of them dead and buried.

His voice dropped, low and sharp. “I don’t recall givin’ you that name.”

Zara tilted her head, her eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “No, you didn’t.”

The air shifted.

Stack took one step back, just enough to show he was no fool. His shoulders stayed square, but the smile was gone. All that was left was a cold, guarded stare and the sharp gleam of someone sizing up a threat.

“You ain’t no regular woman,” he said, voice gruff, edged with warning.

“No,” she admitted, almost like a purr. “But neither are you.”

Stack’s jaw ticked. He hated how calm she was. How much she already seemed to know. He couldn’t feel her thoughts—not like he could with most folks. Her mind was like a locked room with no door.

"Been a long time since somebody called me that," he said. “Longer since I let ‘em walk away after.”

Zara smiled again, unbothered. “You won’t hurt me, Elias.”

"Don’t be too sure."

That made her laugh—not loud, not mocking, just quiet and pleased, like a cat who’d cornered something worth toying with. “I like you,” she said. “You got bite, but you're not nearly as hidden as you think you are. Not from me.”

Stack glanced toward the beach, toward the woods, calculating just how fast he could vanish if he needed to.

“You got a name?” he asked finally, his voice cold as river stones.

She nodded. “Zara.”

He nodded once. No smile. No charm. Just calculation.

Stack might’ve been slick and fast-talking once, a lover of the night and the thrill of the hustle—but that man died the night Smoke did. The one standing here now was something else. Harder. Hungrier. Suspicious of anyone who smiled too pretty and spoke like they already knew where to find the cracks in his armor.

And Zara?

She was smiling like she had already seen every piece of him before he even stepped out the shadows.

Zara could read him. Every inch of him.

He didn’t trust her. And he was right not to.

She was no witch. Not just some Southern spell-slinger with a pocket full of hexes.

She was a boohag. Skinless in her true form, born of nightmares and hunger. And now, after years of boredom, she had something new to study. A vampire who hadn’t even learned the depth of his own curse.

She could taste his sorrow, his rage, and something else—resentment.

Zara smiled again, stepping into the moonlight as the tide pulled in a whisper from the sea.

Yes, she thought. This one would do nicely.

The door creaked open at her gesture, soft and deliberate.

“Come in, if you’re not afraid,” she said.

“I’m not afraid,” he said, but his voice held the careful tone of someone who’d been lied to one too many times.

Zara stepped aside and watched him enter, her eyes never leaving the tense curve of his shoulders.

The air inside smelled like clove, rum, and old secrets. Candles flickered on wooden shelves. Books stacked on every surface. A large mirror sat crooked on the wall—but not one that showed everything.

Stack’s eyes took it in. All of it.

“You always live out here alone?” he asked.

“I like the quiet. Besides, people are noisy. Full of questions they don’t really want the answers to.”

He tilted his head, leaning slightly against the doorframe. “You always invite strange men into your home?”

“I don’t invite men,” Zara said. “I invite chaos.”

Stack almost smiled at that. Almost.

He watched her, waiting. Trying to feel her out. Her magic was quiet—woven into her presence, not flashy or loud. But it was there. In the air. In the weight of her gaze.

And she watched him too, taking in the coiled tension that hadn’t left since he stepped inside. She liked that. He was hungry, but careful. Brave, but broken.

Zara turned her back to him and lit a small brass lantern on the mantle. The light painted her skin with gold and shadow.

“You smell like death,” she said.

Stack’s voice didn’t waver. “So do you.”

She laughed again. “You got sharp teeth. I like that.”

“And you?” he asked. “What is it you got?”

Zara turned slowly, eyes gleaming. “Time.”

A silence passed.

Then she stepped closer, a few inches away now. Her scent was rich, deep, earthy like the moss and bones of the marsh. Her eyes searched his face, studying it like a book she already knew the ending to.

“You gonna stay a while, Elias Moore?” she asked softly.

He looked at her hard. “I didn’t say that was my name.”

“No,” she said, grinning. “But I did.”

Stack didn’t move.

The name Elias Moore still hung heavy in the air like gun smoke.

Zara had returned to her chair by the fireplace, legs crossed, eyes watching him over the rim of a glass filled with dark red liquid. Wine, maybe. Maybe not. She sipped slow, lips stained the color of blood.

The flickering lanterns gave her skin a bronze glow, making her eyes seem older than her face — ancient, in fact. Like something born before names ever mattered.

Stack stayed standing, spine tight, thumb twitching near the hidden knife he still carried more out of memory than need. He didn't know what she was yet, but something in him — something buried deep whispered that she could peel him apart without lifting a hand.

“How you know that name?” he asked at last, his voice low and sharp like a razor dragged slow over skin.

Zara tilted her head, amused. “It’s your name, isn’t it?”

“That ain’t what I go by no more.”

“No,” she purred. “But it’s the one your mama whispered when she kissed your forehead. It’s the name your brother cried out when he held you in his arms as you bled out.”

Stack stiffened. A flicker of grief, rage, and something close to fear ghosted across his face, then vanished.

Zara smiled wider. She liked poking soft spots.

“Now how the hell would you know that?” he growled.

She didn’t answer right away. She just rose from her chair and walked slowly across the creaking wooden floor, barefoot and graceful like something not entirely tethered to the earth. Her presence pulled at the edges of reality. The air shifted with her movements.

“I know a lot of things, Elias.”

“Stop sayin’ that name,” he snapped.

“Why?” she asked softly, almost sweetly. “Afraid it might make you remember who you are?”

He took a step back, only barely. His lips curled, and that slick charm rose up like an old reflex.

“You tryin’ to get inside my head?” he asked, voice cool and dangerous now. “’Cause you won’t like what’s in there.”

Zara stepped into the edge of moonlight pouring through the open window. Her silhouette was sharp, haloed in silver.

“Already peeked,” she said, her voice velvet. “And you're right—it’s deliciously messy.”

Stack’s jaw clenched. He hadn’t let anyone this close since Smoke. Not since the war, the bite, and the blood-soaked promise he made at the mill.

“I don’t know what you are,” he muttered.

“No,” Zara whispered, “but you will.”

She turned her back to him again, as if trusting he wouldn’t strike. As if daring him to.

And Stack… didn’t move.

Instead, he lit a cigarette — the same way he used to roll them for Smoke. His hands remembered even if his soul didn’t. The tobacco burned slow, and he stared into the ember like it could pull him back in time.

“Hope you found peace,” he muttered under his breath, " because I'm living in hell.”

Zara heard him. Of course she did.

But she said nothing.

She simply watched him in the reflection of the crooked mirror.

And smiled.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

[loveanddeephistory]

Rafayel with a Witchy MC

I sent @poisonf0rest an ask talking about this but as someone who's on the spiritual side, I can't stop thinking about how funny it would be for someone who works with different deities to find out their boyfriend was one. So this is incredibly self indulgent and niche.

Not proofread, this is specifically for shits and giggles.

WC: 1.2k

divider by @thecutestgrotto

Everyone's got their beliefs and little practices. Tara does tarot readings without anyone batting an eye, Xavier will pray at a shrine with others, and you have a full practice. As accepting as Linkon is, you know outright witchcraft was a little out of the norm

You keep it chill. You have an altar and keep it clean, honor your ancestors where appropriate, visit shrines, leave offerings. You have your main patron but you're not stingy with your respect.

You keep it on the down low, though. You discuss how sassy your tarot deck is getting with you around Tara in public leave it at that.

When you get into a relationship with Rafayel? You know you have to come out of the (broom) closet eventually, but you start slow.

You discuss some tarot readings where he showed up, to which Rafayel expresses interest. Unless it's bad, then he scoffs.

"What would a stack of cards know about us >:("

You add in some herbal knowledge, maybe drop hints about deity work

But then Ebb and Flow happens. Finding out your boyfriend is basically a merman makes you feel a looooot less guilty about dabbling in magic and not telling him.

Shortly after you just come out and say it, he isn't surprised, but you can't help but catch a weird glint in his eye. Like a fleeting glimpse of deja vu.

Things smooth out from there. With these big secrets off both your chests you move on. You're pleasantly surprised to find him showing off his own knowledge of magic over time, teasingly cursing you in Lemurian, showing his knowledge of tarot during an abyssal chaos commission, and eventually revealing he, too, is a god.

As shocked as you are, it makes sense. He makes your hair stand on end the same way other presences do during a prayer or ritual. At first you chalked it up to how he always made your heart flutter, but look at him. Look at him and say you aren't surprised he's divine.

The first time he visits your place is what surprises both of you the most.

Your altar is in a private space and he doesn't go out of his way to snoop (to your knowledge), but you do catch him staring at the statue of your patron deity.

"Y/N." His voice, melodic as always, was tense. "Tell me that isn't what I think it is." You turned, peering into the corner of the room where your small altar lay. It was humble, a couple of dried flower petals, a bowl for offerings, and the statue. You shrug.

"It's an altar."

"Yeah. And it isn't for me." He turned to you, a look akin to absolute betrayal on his face. You poked his cheek.

"Yeah, well, last I checked you're my boyfriend. What are you first? My boyfriend, or my god?" He immediately opened his mouth, ready to answer. But he paused. He lifted a finger to his chin, breaking eye contact. The silence hung in the air for a few moments as he attempted to puzzle the answer for himself.

"Both...?"

"I'm not gonna lie, wouldn't that make us have a huge power imbalance?" You kept teasing him, even as that bottom lip jutted out.

"No, you still have the bond, it's not like I'm gonna force you to do anything." There's the pouty fishie you know and love. He seemed almost genuinely distraught that you were paying attention to other gods. "But isn't this, like... cheating? Or something?"

"If that were true, I started working with these gods long before I knew who you were." You chastised right back. He was immediately ready to argue with you, but caught himself before he could. He groaned.

"Okay. Whatever. Just- make me one, too. I wanna be included."

And thus, the hunt for proper tools for a sea themed new altar began. The first part was easy, repurposing some of Rafayel's gifts. The jar full of sand and seashells was first to go on, along with a beautiful blue scarf he got you for an altar cloth. A little ceramic bowl he made became the offering bowl. Rafayel gifted you seashells with the expectation that they be placed on his altar, and you were happy to oblige. You found out his favorite scents for designated candles.

You were tempted to get a designated oracle deck for him, but he talked you out of it.

"If you want my advice on something, just call me, cutie." He was quick to flick your forehead as well. While you'd received the spiritual equivalent of a Gibbs slap from ancestors and deities before, this was a new ride in and of itself.

Oh, but it was wholeheartedly mutual. You couldn't just date a god and not banter back. You couldn't just sever the relationships you did have, nor did you want to, so you still spent time with your patron deity. A prayer here, a reading there, an offering where appropriate.

Every. Single. Time. Without fail. Rafayel would call or text you.

You had just lit some incense, leaving a bowl full of fruit for the deity, clasping your hands and murmuring your prayer before your phone loudly began to ring. You recognized the song you had set up for your beloved, so you answer your phone.

"I know that isn't for who I think it's for, is it?" There was no greeting. No 'hello love of my life', no 'hi cutie', just straight to sharply asking about the offering.

"I was just about to get to yours! I light incense for you, you know, if you want fruit I'll buy you some and come by Whitesand."

"Cutieeeee, I should be your patron, not them! I'm your boyfriend and your god!"

"Well technically since I'm not a Lemurian-"

"No. It counts." He came off a little sharper than intended, you could tell by his immediate sigh. "It counts." His voice softened. "You're still my follower."

"I am, yes, I am your follower. I am also your partner and beloved bodyguard. If you really want my prayers, I can just call or text you. If you want offerings, I can swing by with some takeout for dinner?" You glanced at the incense burning, the scented smoke filling the room in the most satisfying way. The smoke began to curl and shift. It seemed aquatic.

And from that alone you knew why you felt the air shift. You smiled, speaking gently into your receiver. "I got that oceanic incense you recommended the other day, baby. Want me to burn it while I place the order?"

"... yes, please."

Your other deities were rarely so polite. Though, of course, you weren't dating them. Your dynamics were different. They could be sassy through tarot cards, or the flame of a candle spitting back at you when you went to extinguish it. Rafayel could just be sassy to your face. That perfect bottom lip jutting out as his ears turned red.

Rafayel was unlike any god you had every worked with. But something about him felt familiar anyway. So you lit his incense, put it in his incense holder, on his altar. Pictures of the two of you decorating it, his gifts littered about, signs of his affection for you everywhere.

And as you stood in awe at the altar of his devotion, the air stilled. You would be in his arms soon enough, with an offering of takeout and your prayers of devotion spoken directly into his ears, trailed down his bare chest, wrapping around his body in the devotion of a darling devotee. But for now, you could still feel the air shift. You could practically feel his arms around you already.

[prythiansprincess]

Can I get a FIC abt the reader being Theodore’s gf and best friend and she’s embarrassed and alone in her dorm bc of cramps and they are REALLY REALLY bad and he just comforts her and they snuggle and he gives her his hoodie and fluffy!! (I’m dying from my cramps in my bed rn 🙏 I need comfort from my book bf)

heart shaped bruises.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: toothpaste kisses by the maccabees.

author's note: i'm so sorry you're in pain, love. hope this makes you feel better 💗

Bloody fucking hell. 

You clutched your stomach, doubling over in pain as another wave of cramps crashed into you at full force. An anti period pain potion. That would be your first invention after finishing your education at Hogwarts. For now, you were forced to endure the pain and misery sans magic. 

The clock on your nightstand rang obnoxiously, rattling the various barrettes and books stacked atop the table. The alarm meant that Charms would be starting soon. With a rather hard smack, you silenced the clock and buried yourself underneath the covers. 

There was no way in hell that you were going to make it to class today.

You couldn’t even get out of bed, let alone walk to the other side of the castle. No, you were staying right here. Cocooned in the safety of your blankets so you could wallow in self pity in peace. 

Apparently, suffering in silence was too much to ask for because the minute the alarm finally stopped, there was a knock on your door. 

“Go away,” you yelled, the words slightly muffled by your goose down comforter. 

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called from the other side of the door. “Are you alright, love?”

Tears pricked the back of your eyes. No, you were definitely not alright. Your uterus was an active war zone, your emotions were a poorly assembled rollercoaster in an abandoned theme park, and to top it all off, you had a raging headache like someone had taken a bludger to your skull. 

But you couldn’t say all of that. You didn’t want to freak your boyfriend out. 

“I’m fine, Theo. Just feeling under the weather.” You clamped your eyes shut, trying to block out the migraine. “Go to class without me.”

There was shuffling from the hallway before your door swung open, revealing a very concerned Theo. He took in the sight of you in bed, your cheeks flushed and your eyes red from crying all morning. Theo was by your side in three strides. 

“What’s wrong, dolcezza?”

“Nothing, I’m just not feeling well.” A fresh set of cramps chose that exact moment to pummel your lower abdomen, making you wince in pain. 

“That’s not nothing, darling.” He knelt beside you, taking your hand. “Tell me what’s wrong, Y/N. I hate seeing you in pain.”

Your eyes watered again. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Of course not, love.”

“It’s these cramps,” you said slowly, shifting to face him. “I’m on my period and it’s just really bad today. Usually I take a pain relieving potion, but even that’s not working this time around.”

Theo’s face softened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You averted his gaze, flushing. “I guess I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“It is a big deal,” said Theo. “Everything that has to do with you is a big deal to me. I hate thinking that you’ve been suffering through this all alone.”

“I just didn’t want to bother you with something so silly.”

“You could never bother me, Y/N.” Theo gently pulled back the covers. “If anything I’m the one bothering you right now. Scoot over, darling. Make room for your Teddy.”

“But you’ll miss Charms.”

“I’ve skipped for less. This time it’s actually important. You need me. I’m not leaving you.”

You smiled softly and made room for Theo. He instantly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a snuggle. The familiar scent of sea salt and smoke felt like a warm hug in itself. Theo stroked your hair and kissed your temple. 

The cold air seeped in through your frosted glass windows, chilling you to the core. As much as you loved the ominous charm of living in the dungeons, this was one of its disadvantages. You shivered in Theo’s arms, cuddling closer for warmth. 

Your boyfriend radiated heat. You had no idea how when it was near freezing in your dorm. Theo liked to say he was hot blooded. You were just grateful to have your own personal heater. 

“Are you cold, darling?” 

You nodded, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “A little.”

Theo shifted beside you. He tugged at the hem of his hoodie and pulled it off in one swift move. “Arms up, love.”

You sat upright and did what you were told. Theo slipped his hoodie over you, smiling as the plush fabric swallowed you whole. It was warm and smelled like him. You wanted to drown in it. 

He kissed the tip of your nose. “It looks good on you, but don’t think that it gets you out of cuddling.” 

Theo pulled you to him, snuggling you from behind. He twined your legs together, making you giggle as his leg hair tickled the back of your thighs. You intertwined your fingers and kissed the back of his palm. 

The cramps may still be wreaking havoc on your body, but at least now you had Theo to comfort you. 

“How are you feeling, babe?” 

You turned, smiling. “Better now that you’re here, Teddy.”

Theo grinned and pressed a gentle kiss against your lips. “Get some rest, love. I’m not going anywhere.”

[bloomvalyria]

You Handled It

Happy Birthday, @winxwannabe!! I hope you enjoy this very last minute edit I’m shocked I was able to finish in time. I even used S3 Baltor just for you! It was a pain in the ass and I feel like something’s still off about it, but oh well, we’re going with it! And I hope you enjoy it and your birthday!

This edit may or may not be heavily inspired by some fic discussions that occurred while I was visiting. A very specific one, actually. In fact, I was so inspired by the discussion, I considered writing a little drabble to pair with this edit—OH WAIT THAT’S RIGHT I DID:

The last of Tides’s royal guard collapses with a quick twist of Bloom’s wrist. His sword and armor clatter to the stony floor, echoing for several agonizing seconds until only her ragged, heavy breathing is left to haunt the hall.

She watches him, the adrenaline pumping through her veins weaning with every steady breath leaving his body. Her eyes pan over each fallen man, counting them off.

Eight.

Asshole left her with eight guards.

Bloom’s gaze shifts to the enormous wooden door waiting at the end of the corridor. It stands tall and impervious, just as it had minutes ago when she arrived. Back when there had been eight conscious guards and her so-called partner.

Casting a quick illusion over the guards, Bloom storms toward the door, barely thinking about the spell before her body phases through iron hinges and wood.

The musky scent of damp stone and sea salt wafts past her nose as she takes in her new surroundings.

Tides’s treasury is unlike the ones she’s witnessed before. Gold and jewels and other baubles would spill from every corner, sometimes towering over those who entered. A beautiful yet disgusting display of wealth.

However this treasury displays an entirely different wealth. Knowledge. Stacks of ancient tomes and oil paintings nearly breach the ceiling, and cracking busts of long-forgotten philosophers sit atop bundles of yellowing scrolls. Anyone stumbling upon this room would easily mistake it for a pile of junk, untouched for years, or perhaps decades.

She knows better. Rather, she’s been taught better.

The room resembles more of a jail cell than a treasury. Aside from the thin slat windows looking out over the Sea of Andros, not an ounce of light permeates the room. Dust floats through the afternoon rays, shimmering like the fairy dust falling from her wings. And while it succeeds in proving the practically mummified nature of the room, it does little to obscure the glinting golden runes.

They’re everywhere –etched into the leather bindings, the violet wax seals. Marks of Tides’s most valuable and ancient spells.

The binding spell has to be somewhere in this mess.

At least, it better be here after the fight she just endured.

Speaking of obnoxious matters …

Her Dragon Fire tugs in her chest, pulling her attention across the room. Enormous bronze statues of armored merman flank the room, and leaning against the facade of the nearest one is a shadowy figure. One she’s ready to chuck a spell book at.

“What the hell was that?”

Even in the darkness, she sees Baltor smirk. “Pardon?”

She snarls, heat scorching her palms. “Don’t play coy. There were eight of those guards!”

His smirk only widens. “What was it you said on Vallisto?” he asks –taunts. “You had it handled?”

Bloom grits her teeth, fighting off the urge to forgo all magic and deck him in the face.

“And look,” he says, peeling himself off the statue. He stalks over to her, a catlike gleam in his pale eyes. If she didn’t know any better, she might call it pride. “You handled it.”

[baevitar]

ART DONALDSON

୨ৎ ˚｡ 🪼 . ˚ 𐙚

Inspired by @iz-belljolie !!

Art Donaldson and his best friend Patrick had been looking forward to their beach day for weeks. The sun glimmered over the waves, casting a golden hue on the world around them. Patrick, always the outgoing one, had brought a stack of tennis autographs to sign, hoping to attract fans along the lively beachfront.

While Patrick was busy chatting with his admirers, Art decided to take a dip in the cool ocean. The salty water felt refreshing as he dove beneath the surface, losing himself in the rhythm of the waves. Time slipped away, and before he knew it, he had ventured farther than he intended.

In a moment of realization, Art turned to swim back, but something unexpected caught his eye—a flash of shimmering scales beneath the water. He squinted, and to his astonishment, he noticed a girl with a shimmering tail, gliding effortlessly through the liquid. Her long hair floated around her like seaweed, and she seemed both curious and shy.

His brow furrowed as he surfaced, water dripping from his face. To his surprise, she surfaced too, her cheeks flushed as she met his gaze. “What… I thought mermaids weren’t real…” he stammered, disbelief and wonder mingling in his voice.

Before she could respond, Patrick’s voice boomed from the shore, “Art! Come back!” The moment shattered like glass, and the girl’s expression shifted from curiosity to alarm. With a quick flick of her magnificent tail, she dove beneath the waves, gone in an instant.

A knot formed in Art’s stomach as he watched the ocean swallow her whole. He returned to the shore, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within him.

︵‿︵‿୨🐚୧‿︵‿︵

Days turned into weeks, and that magical encounter haunted Art. He couldn't shake the image of the mermaid—her ethereal beauty, her shy smile. It was as if she had left a piece of herself with him. One night, the moon hung high and bright, bathing the beach in a silvery light. Restless and curious, Art decided to go back to the beach, hoping against hope to find her once more.

With a scuba diving mask in hand, he slipped into the water, feeling the familiar embrace of the sea. The nighttime ocean was a different world, shimmering with bioluminescent creatures that twinkled like stars.

He swam deeper, searching the depths, his heart pounding with anticipation. Time seemed to stand still as he explored, the water cool against his skin. Suddenly, a flicker of movement caught his eye—a familiar flash of iridescent scales darting through the darkness.

He swam closer, and there she was. The mermaid glided near him, her long hair flowing like silk in the current. Ethereal and enchanting, she didn’t shy away this time; instead, she observed him with wide, curious eyes. Her eyes caught onto the stare and they both surface.

“Why are you here?” she asked, her voice melodic, echoing like the sound of gentle waves.

“I had to find you,” Art replied, his words spilling out in a rush. “I thought I was dreaming.”

“And yet, here you are,” she smiled, her cheeks still tinged with a hint of pink. “The world above is strange to me.”

“It is,” he agreed, captivated by her presence. “But it’s also beautiful—just like you.”

She seemed to glow at his compliment, causing Art's heart to race. “My name is Neri,” she introduced, shyly brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

“I’m Art,” he responded, trying to quell the nervous excitement bubbling within him. They exchanged stories of their worlds, laughter echoing in the sea, bonding over their shared sense of wonder.

As the night deepened, the stars above reflected in the water, creating a magical ambiance. Art learned of the secrets the ocean held, of the creatures that danced beneath the waves, and Neri shared her dreams of exploring the human world.

Yet time was fleeting, and soon he knew he had to return to the shore. “Will I ever see you again?” Art asked, a hint of sadness in his voice.

“I didn’t know you were leaving..” Neri whispered.

“I kinda have to, my fingers and feet are pruning and it’s cold.” He sighs. Dripping in water and reluctance, he starts swimming, only to be caught by Neri’s gentle hand.

“Wait- I wanna show you something.” She leads him back under the water, they come to a stop at a small coral reef - filled with vivid colours and fishes. Neri then pulls out a pendent, Art furrows his brows and signals for them to resurface.

“What’s that?”

“My father’s pendent.”

“But why are you showing me? I don’t even know you, I can’t even believe your real.”

“Cause I feel emotions deeper then humans, and I know we’re meant to be.” She swims a little closer to him. Water droplets cascading from her skin like diamonds. They lock eyes, and in that fleeting moment, the world around them fades. Art feels drawn to her, not just by her ethereal beauty, but by an indescribable connection that pulsed between them like a heartbeat. She swims even closer, and instinctively, Art's hands reach out to caress her soft cheeks, their warmth igniting the air between them. Time stops as Neri pulls him under the water. Under the water, they close the gap, lips meeting in a gentle, soaring kiss that echos through the tides.

The kiss is a beautiful collision of worlds—saltwater and fresh air mingling as they loose themselves in each other. It was a moment of enchantment, a brief escape from reality, where magic seemed to weave through their veins. As they pull away, foreheads resting gently against one another, the connection lingers like a spell cast in the moonlight. Art feels like he’s on cloud nine as he goes up for a breath.

“Take the pendant…” Neri whispers, her voice like the soft rustling of leaves. She hands him delicate silver pendant shaped like a seashell, its shimmery surface hinting at the depths of the ocean.

Art nods, carefully accepting it in his hands, feeling the warmth of her touch imprinted on the cool metal. “I’ll come back for you, promise…”

Neri’s eyes sparkle with hope. “I know you will…” Her smile is gentle yet radiant, a beacon in the darkness, and with that, she dove back into the depths of the sea, leaving Art floating in the ocean cold and yearning, heart pounding and mind racing.

As he swam back to shore, Art found himself replaying their kiss in his mind—a moment so pure, so unexpected. He returned to his dorm room at Stanford, the reality of his life crashing down like a wave after the blissful encounter. Inside awaited Patrick, his best friend, sprawled on his bed, clearly waiting for him.

“Where’ve you been, man?” Patrick asked, his brow raising in curiosity.

“…uhh- strip club?…” Art replied casually, a hint of guilt creeping into his tone. He was grateful for the darkness; it shrouded the glitter on his hands—the remnants of Neri’s touch.

Patrick, ever the naive friend, shrugged. “A strip club? Really?” He smirked, teasingly nudging Art’s shoulder. Art chuckled, playing along, but his mind was elsewhere.

As Patrick drifted off to sleep beside him, Art remained wide awake, staring at the faint sparkle on his hand. He touched his lips, longing for the warmth of Neri’s, the ghost of her kiss lingering, filling him with a sense of longing he couldn't quite understand. It felt as if she had cast a spell, a bewitching charm that held him captive in a world unlike his own. The glitter on his hands was a reminder—a tangible piece of magic that transcended the ordinary.

Lying in bed, Art traced the outline of the seashell pendant, and then his lips which Neri’s soft lips had touched. He had never felt this way about a girl let alone a mermaid.. It was like she casted a spell on him.

What i listened to while writing this

[sizzleissues]

new design and all that. Captain Ladybug, the most feared pirate on the seven seas. An absolute mess in reality and barely hiding it XD

How the design changed is I thought about it for five more seconds and did some research into period clothing and then took inspiration from there. So this outfit contains elements spanning five decades and I tried to think about there being a purpose to it XD

Okay I’m going to talk about how miraculous work in this AU and maybe some other things. Read below

The only miraculous that exist are the Ladybug and Cat but technically more could exist they just don’t at the time of the fic. There is some lore I don’t want to mention at the moment about the origins of the miraculous but they are originally parts of a whole that split after a tragic event. As a result of the split, the halves are no longer as powerful apart and their users face consequences to their use (unlike when it was whole there was limited to no consequence).

They have existed and interfered for a couple hundred years, trying each time to bring peace between land and sea but each time failing in some way. The current iteration feels like a last ditch effort to force things into motion and so the conditions of the miraculous are designed to push the holder towards an ultimate goal.

So Marinette of course gets her earrings and uses them to become human. Tikki can only appear to her in water, but does watch over her and can occasionally speak and influence things while on land but her power is limited. Tikki can’t tell her to mend the relations between land and sea because then it wouldn’t be genuine. It had to be meant. She has had them for roughly three years prior to the story beginning and it had mostly been exactly what she wanted. Adventure and freedom from the sorrows at sea. The reason it mostly works out is that Adrien wasn’t ready to take the Cat miraculous (and no other options presented themselves) so the Ladybug could draw on more power. Once Adrien takes the miraculous, things change and it’s her reaction to this changing that helps propel her towards her purpose.

She must transform back every so often, depending on how much she exerted herself and how much of her power she used. While transformed she’s faster and stronger than an average human, like in the show, and experiences a level of good fortune. She’s also invulnerable (to a point. Its takes a lot out of her). Once she’s exhausted her transformation she must return to the sea and if she fails to do so she will become a regular human and her memories of her life in the sea would fade. Her lucky charm is just her luck. Her sword magically slides back to her feet, her gun always seems to be loaded, the wind rarely blows against them etc. But it stacks up and wears on her transformation so she rarely wills for it as she wants to extend her time on land as much as possible. The more frequently she has to disappear, the more suspicious it would be and the easier it would be to be caught.

I’ll talk about Adrien’s whole deal once I have art of his proper design. He undergoes the most costume changes so I’ve been having a time researching men’s period fashion.

[xx-dinah-writing-xx]

Please continue to write about Matt and the twins!!

Signatures

Matt Smith x reader

Fluff

A/N: Sorry for the wait. There’s so many requests, but I am working on them all, I promise. If your request hasn’t been answered yet, or it’s taking too long, send it again, since I’m sure I’ve deleted some on accident while removing spam. 😔

————

The dining table was a sea of cards, markers, and scattered envelopes. You and Matt had been sitting there for the better part of an hour, signing card after card for fans and colleagues. Every time you thought you were close to finishing, another stack seemed to appear as if by magic.

“Did we agree to sign cards for the entire population of England?” Matt muttered, leaning back in his chair and flexing his wrist. He gave you a tired smile, his messy hair falling into his eyes.

You laughed softly, nudging his shoulder. “It’s your fault. You’re too charming. Everyone wants a little piece of you.”

From the doorway, three small figures peeked into the room—Jack, Lilly, and Max. They had been quietly entertaining themselves in the living room, but the unmistakable sound of parental groaning had drawn them over.

“Mummy? Daddy?” Lilly’s soft voice broke through your card-signing haze.

You glanced up to see all three kids standing there, their wide eyes filled with concern. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Are you busy forever?” Jack asked, his bottom lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout.

“We’re not busy forever,” Matt said, his tone reassuring. “We just have to finish these cards, and then we’ll play.”

Max toddled forward, clutching his beloved goat plushie. He plopped it onto the table like it was offering assistance. “I help,” he announced, his tiny voice determined.

Matt grinned, ruffling Max’s hair. “I don’t think we need Goat’s help, little man.”

“I help too!” Jack said, pulling out a chair next to you and climbing up. “We can write on the cards for you. Then you’ll be done faster!”

Before you could respond, Lilly nodded and darted off, returning moments later with a box of crayons and her pink gel pens. “We’ll make them look really nice,” she promised.

You and Matt exchanged a look—half exasperated, half endeared. “Alright,” you said with a small laugh. “But be careful. These are important.”

The kids dove in enthusiastically. Jack grabbed a card and started scribbling what appeared to be a rocket ship, complete with stick figures inside. “This one’s for someone who really likes space!” he declared.

Lilly meticulously drew a rainbow on hers, adding little stars around it. “I’m making it pretty so they know it’s special,” she explained.

Max, meanwhile, was happily doodling on the back of a card, his grip on the crayon making his lines squiggly and wild. “I draw Goat,” he said proudly, holding up his masterpiece. The “goat” looked more like an oval with legs, but his confidence was unmatched.

Matt laughed, pulling Max onto his lap so he wouldn’t topple over. “That’s a very good goat, Maximus,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of Max’s head.

“You should sign it too, Daddy,” Lilly said, sliding one of her rainbow cards toward Matt.

“And write our names!” Jack added. “So they know we helped.”

“Alright, alright,” Matt said, reaching for a pen. He signed the card with a flourish and added, “Plus help from Jack, Lilly, and Max,” in neat handwriting.

You smiled, watching the kids beam with pride. Sure, the cards might not look quite as professional now, but they were undeniably more heartfelt.

Hours later, when the last card was finally signed (or scribbled on), you stacked them neatly while the kids lay sprawled on the carpet, exhausted from their creative efforts.

“Thanks for the help, guys,” Matt said, crouching down beside them. He scooped Max into his arms and ruffled Jack and Lilly’s hair. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Now you can play!” Jack said, his tired eyes lighting up.

Matt glanced at you, his expression warm and full of love. “What do you think? Game of hide-and-seek before bed?”

“Absolutely,” you said, pulling Lilly into a hug.

As the kids ran off to hide, giggling and whispering, Matt slid an arm around your shoulders. “We’re going to find crayon doodles on those cards for weeks, aren’t we?”

You laughed, leaning into him. “Probably. But honestly? They might be the best cards we’ve ever sent.”

[crow-stars]

❝LITTLE BITS OF GOLD❞

❦summary; how can something so small and practically worthless make him want to protect it with all his heart. how unfair... ♪the characters in this story; gn!reader, azul ashengrotto, jade leech, floyd leech ✎word count; 2,151 ❀what do the ghosts say?; ambiguous, azul and reader are childhood friends, reader is a jellyfish, going to a carnival/fair with the tweels, azul calls reader dumb but not in a bad way ☛the author's notes; went to an event today, so posting this at who knows what am. also i suck ass at darts ☪look at the catalogue?

Azul doesn’t understand you. In all honesty, ever since the two of you were kids, he didn’t understand you that much. 

You were a pretty merfolk, skin that glowed a soft gold and purple in the dark of the sea, that see through domed hood framing your head in a beautiful manner that Azul still finds pretty even as he’s grown up. Jade and Floyd always liked dragging you around during the night as their own personal flashlight. And, of course, Azul was taken along for the ride, sticking close to you during those stupid night trips. You were always around the three, idly drifting along and going along with whatever adventure or antic the tweels decided to do for the day. 

You always liked Azul though, for whatever reason. In his eyes, you were like a barnacle stuck to his side, following after him for whatever he was doing or silently watching from the side. In all honesty, Azul was sure you were more of an airhead than anything else, not that was a bad thing, always talking about the future and things that Azul knows are a far distance in the future. Despite that, he still listened, sometimes even daring to daydream alongside you on the rare days where he let himself relax. 

A few years before Azul had been accepted into Night Raven College, you had to move away, or do a “migration”, as your parents had told you. You slowly slipped from Azul’s thoughts as studying magic and his enrollment in Night Raven College took priority. He had almost completely forgotten about  you (though not really), until the beginning of his sophomore year, having attained the role of housewarden and having built his reputation, Azul was ready to escort the new batch of freshmen into when someone called out to him with a familiar nickname. 

“Azu! Azu!” Before Azul could even register it, two arms wrapped around his abdomen and a cheery smile greeted him. There was only one person who would ever call him that and it was you. 

Azul’s cool facade was broken as embarrassment struck across his features, cheeks burning a pink hue as he looked at you. You were smiling so brightly at him, giggling in glee and bouncing on your heels. Your eyes had an undertone of gold to them, little gold and purple specks akin to freckles across your cheeks that remind Azul of your underwater form. Azul didn’t know whether to scold you or push you away, but it wasn’t the time for pleasantries. 

That was how his reunion went with you and it brings him back to the present, with you and Floyd stacking plates in a precarious manner. Another game that Floyd’s most likely pulled you into. Ever since you arrived at NRC, Floyd was doing the same thing he did when they were kids, dragging you along after him on whatever whim he pleased and you would always happily follow along, drifting and following whatever came to you. 

“Could you two stop that?” Azul grumbled as he raised his head from his work, eyes narrowing at you and Floyd. 

“Ah, sorry Azu.” Your eyes looked over to Azul, hands folding in your lap and tilting your head, giving Azul that blank look that he identified you with. Floyd, meanwhile, pouted his lips in protest and groaned, rolling his eyes. 

“Hmmm... Azul’s no fun. Hey, Jelly, here.” Floyd places the plate that was in his hands on your head, balancing it on top of you while you sit still. Your eyes glanced up at the plate before a soft laugh slipped past your lips, the little gold freckles on your cheeks pulsing a gentle glow that it seemed to do whenever you laughed or giggled. Floyd clapped and Jade, who just passed by, stopped to watch his brother as Floyd began to grab the plates from the stack to transfer onto your head. 

Azul heaves a heavy sigh and shakes his head. He lets his pen drop from his hands, knowing he’s not getting much work done when Floyd was doing things such as this. Especially when it was a somewhat interesting spectacle. Azul rubs his temple, watching as Floyd stacks plate after plate atop your head while you happily sit there. 

“Oh! Azu, Azu!”

“Hm? What is it?” 

Azul's eyes look over at you with a light smile, Floyd still stacking plates on your head. You were smiling that smile that only you could smile, swaying a bit from side to side and making the plates teeter precariously. It made Azul anxious to watch and he lightly stopped your swaying with a gentle hand. 

You didn't pay much mind to Azul's hand and only continued on with what you were saying. “I read about this thing that land people do sometimes called a carnival.” Floyd stopped stacking plates on your head and looked down at you, a curious look in his eyes. Jade had stopped behind the booth where the other three were, eyebrow quirked in curiosity along with his twin. 

“Do you think we can go to one please? My classmates say that there’s one this weekend!”

Before Azul could get his opinion in, Floyd was already agreeing with you, babbling and clamoring next to you, throwing his arms around you while cheering that it was an awesome idea. 

That was how Azul’s weekend got taken up with going to the carnival. And also how he had to replace at least 10 plates after they came crashing down when Floyd hugged you. 

Azul could see that you and Floyd were looking around with childish glee, the only thing keeping you two around being Azul’s plea to stay within eye line of him and Jade. The sun was only just barely beginning to set, streaking golden lines over the sky and mixing blue with oranges and yellows. 

The carnival wasn’t all that bad, typical in look to what one would expect. There were game and food booths, varying enticing smells that made Azul’s mouth water and prizes that had you pointing them out everytime you passed by. 

“Look, look! It’s an octopus! Can we go get it, please?” 

The octopus plush was relatively small, big black eyes and little details under the tentacles for the suction cups. It was definitely cute at least, though Floyd was also grinning at Azul as he pointed at it. 

“Azul, it looks just like you! We should get it, hehe!” Azul rolled his eyes with a sigh, shaking his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose, glasses shifting up a bit. 

“Floyd, please...” 

“You know Floyd... You could try winning it.” Jade’s smile turned into a grin, sharp teeth on display as he looked at the booth with a smile. “I think it’ll be an interesting addition to the Mostro Lounge, don’t you think?” 

Azul groaned as Floyd rushed to the booth to play, eagerly giving the carney enough thaumarks for a turn to play. It was some game where you would have to knock down some milk glasses. The carny stood by the side as they gave Floyd some balls to throw at the stacked glasses. Azul sighed as his eyes roamed away from the tweels to see what you were up to. 

You, however, were not in the spot where you should have been. This made a bolt of anxiety shoot through Azul as his eyes swept across the crowds and booths. He knew he should have invested in one of those weird child leashes that he once saw. It wasn’t much different when he and the tweels would wrap seaweed around your waist to keep you from wandering too far from them. 

With a groan, Azul informed Jade of what he was doing and went into the crowd, weaving through people as his eyes darted from booth to booth, trying to find you among the masses. 

Azul’s eyes catch that purple and gold glow nearby a balloon darts booth, staring up at one of the prizes. The sight of you safe and sound helped alleviate Azul’s anxiety, though it didn’t stop the irritation of you suddenly up and disappearing. 

“What have we told you about wandering off? You know how dangerous it could be after the incident with the current and─” 

“Azu.” Your hand points to one of the carnival prizes, stars in your eyes. You were captivated by a set of match heart charm necklaces, colored gold that looked cheap. The strings of the necklace were only black strings even, one bad stress from fraying and falling apart. “I want them.”  

Azul gave you a scrutinizing look, eyebrows furrowed a bit. “Those are the most flimsy looking things ever.”

“But they say best friends on them! We have to get them!” Another look at them and the necklaces did, indeed, say best friends in small letters that were harder to read from where Azul was standing. 

Another look at you made Azul sigh, grabbing your wrist and walking over to the booth. He took out the required amount of thaumarks, placing it down on the counter. “Five darts please.”

You made a little cheer as the carny provided the darts to Azul, watching him pick up one of the darts and prepare to throw it. It would be easy, surely, it’s just aiming darts and popping balloons. 

His first dart falls short and falls to the floor. The second dart manages to hit a balloon, but not pop it. The third hits a balloon, thankfully. The fourth one hits, but doesn’t pop and the fifth somehow slips in between the balloons. The look of disbelief on Azul’s face is almost laughable, though your look of disappointment made Azul pull out another five thaumarks for another five darts. 

The second’s round’s results were the same as the first, either missing or slipping in between the cracks of the balloons. Another five thaumarks, another five darts, another round of failure. Azul groaned and dragged his hands down his face, feeling frustration begin to bubble under his skin. This damn game was getting annoying. 

Another five, another round, but Azul managed to get two balloons this time. He rubbed his temples. This was going to be more difficult than he thought. Azul took out another five thaumarks and received his five darts. 

This time, Azul takes a few moments to try and aim it, maybe hoping it’ll finally land for once. After what seemed like forever of aiming, steadying his arm, Azul throws the dart. He hears a pop and his heart jumps in excitement. You let out a small exclaim, clinging onto Azul’s arm as you watched him. The second dart, aim, steady, raise his hand just a bit, and throw the dart. Another pop. Pop after pop, the darts fly into the board and hit the balloons 

Finally, finally, the balloons popped, all the darts hitting their target. You cheered so loudly, jumping up and down and shaking Azul’s shoulder. “You did it, you did it, you did it!” 

A sense of relief runs through Azul, from finally popping those damn balloons and keeping his pride intact, but also being able to win those charm necklaces. It was an oddly nice feeling, watching as you excitedly point to those flimsy things, little freckled spots pulsing and glowing golden as the carny hands you the necklaces. You held them up to Azul, grin wide and chest full of laughter. 

“Azu! C’mere!” Despite what you said, you came closer to Azul, putting the necklace on for him and putting your own on. 

“We match, we match!” Azul watches as you point at his necklace and yours bouncing on the heels of your feet, smiling so bright. 

The rest of the trip was relatively fun, meeting back up with Jade and Floyd, who had won that octopus and more. Apparently he had decided he wanted all the plushes the carney had and took them. Whether through legitimate means or by other means, the tweels refused to elaborate. You managed to get the octopus off of Floyd and carried it around with you, Azul looping an arm with yours that helped him keep track of you as you tugged against his hold multiple times whenever you saw something that caught your eye. 

Eventually, you all had to go back to the dorms, though Floyd kept whining about how he wanted to stay longer. It was dark by the time you all returned and Azul sent you and the tweels to bed, heading to his room himself just as tired. 

As he was changing, Azul took off the charm necklace, inspecting it for a bit before taking out a container that he had kept full of coins and allowing the necklace into the container. The fake gold sheen contrasted with the coins of silver and gold, yet it felt just as precious.