#thread: how to greet a cat

[ninikrumbs]

fluff with boyfriend satoru. thats it.

boyfriendsatoru who's weary and exhausted from the weight of the world on his shoulders, fighting curses day in and day out.

boyfriendsatoru who's favorite part of the day is coming home to you, to the soft hum of your cozy apartment. Your warm smile and open arms a perfect remedy to melt away the exhaustion in his bones, along with the smell of a freshly made meal or takeout depending on how tired you were from your own missions.

"Welcome home, Toru!" The tender tone in your voice made his heart warm. Despite your tired eyes, you still stood up to greet him by the door. You wear wearing his shirt and nothing else with your hair up in a messy bun. And to him you looked so beautiful it almost hurt. How did he ever deserve you?

He closes the distance between you two, wrapping his arms around your smaller frame, hugging you tightly like someone was gonna take you away.

Tucking his head in the crook of your neck, he breathes you in and melts into your embrace. "Im home."

boyfriendsatoru who's house is now so full of life ever since you came in the picture, apartment now filled with cute trinkets, scented candles, plants and cozy throw pillows. A stark difference from his once cold and empty house that he only uses to sleep for a few hours before carrying the mantle as the storngest once more.

boyfriendsatoru who makes up for his absence due to long missions every chance he gets. He now demands for days off like other sorcerers and spends those days trailing behind you like a little puppy.

boyfriendsatoru who doesn't know what personal space is when it comes to you. Wanna shower? he's right there with you. Reading a book in bed? his using your chest as a pillow, purring like a cat every time your laugh reverberates from your body, might even offer to reenact your favorite scenes. Need to pee in the middle of the night? You get startled when he opens the door, sleepy face yawning as he scratches his toned tummy while he waits for you to be finished. Claiming that he can't sleep without you. Doing skincare? He's right beside you, waiting for you to pat in your toner and moisturiser on his face. Honestly, he's just a baby who loves you and wants to be included in everything.

"Toru, not that I mind..."

He looks up from his place on your chest, looking so sleepy and satisfied that you almost didn't wanna disturb him.

He yawns before answering you, voice laced with sleep. "What is it, sweets?"

You thread your fingers through his fluffy hair, giving him head scratches here and there and he basically purrs like a kitty on catnip. "You know you don't t have to spend every waking moment with me. I know you feel like you have to make up for the time we're apart, but its okay to make time for yourself you know."

In typical Gojo fashion, Satoru juts his lips out as his eyes water comically. "Does that mean you don't want to spend time me?"

"What? No!" You were somehow panicked and amused at the same time.

"You should've just shot me instead, that would have hurt less!" He cries, tightening his arms around your waist.

You shake your head at his theatrics, laughing fondly, "I didn't mean that you big baby."

Sparkly blue eyes stare back at you, "But Im your baby."

You snort in response. If only the world could see him now, the stongest so soft like this. But truly you felt lucky that monly you could see this side to Satoru. A side to him that you could keep all to yourself. The world can have the strongest, you only ever wanted Satoru. "Toru, I only meant that you might get tired of me if you don't have your personal space."

He scoffs, looking so offended. "First of all, there's absolutely no chance of me getting sick of you and second Ive had enough alone time to last me a life time."

The way he said the last part made it sound like it was no big deal but the thought of him coming home to an empy house with no one to turn to made your heart ache. "Toru.."

Seeing the look on your face, he quickly gives you a smile, "Don't look at me like that, sweets. Im fine, really. Its all in the past."

You were unconvinced but you didn't want to breach deeper into such a sad subject so instead you made a promise to yourself to make sure he never feels alone ever again.

You pull him up and wrap your arms around his neck, he snuggles into you but makes sure not to crush you under his weight. His warmth seeps into your skin as you caress his back. You murmur softly into his neck, "You have me, Toru. Always."

Gojo had to blink back the tears and stop his voice from shaking when he spoke, "And you have me."

--

"Just to be clear, you don't like personal space?" You ask, teasing lightly as you looked down at Gojo on you lap.

He gazes up at you, arms circling your waist, smirking cheekily as he answers, "I like your personal space."

[cheralith]

more poly ryusae please 🥺??

characters ; shidou ryusei, itoshi sae || wc ; 715 contains/cw ; fem!reader, she/her pronouns, pre-relationship with shidou, polyamory, a little suggestive at the end haha

ever since the day that shidou had discovered sae's secret little girlfriend, shidou thinks the prodigy has been torturing him since.

because for the first time since shidou joined the team, sae's been letting you tag along with him during practice. it doesn't help that shidou seems to be the only person on the team who didn't know of your existence until only a few weeks ago, considering you're so friendly with the rest of them. hayate goes to give you a friendly shoulder pat, teppei hugs you excitedly, telling you it's been awhile. even aiku goes to ask if you're going to break up with "tensai-chan" anytime soon, to which you only respond with a shallow smile and tell him to have fun at practice.

shidou looks back to sae to see if he's okay with his girlfriend interacting with the team in such a friendly matter, especially since you're such a pretty thing and if you were shidou's girl, he'd hide you away to keep you for himself. but clearly sae's proud of you, despite his countenance not showing it. he knows his girlfriend is beautiful and kind, so charming and delicate—what's not to love?

you're so sweet, so cheery. when you introduce yourself to shidou, he nearly gets flustered by how breathtaking you were in real life; instagram doesn't do you justice. you have these large doe eyes that just ponder up at him and a smile so succulent, it makes him sick. he screws on a crooked smile, one that doesn't seem to be as wide as his normal cheshire-cat one.

"ah, so you're the dolly that sae's been taking care of," shidou says the first time he meets you with a smirk, sticking a hand out.

you smile with your eyes, fixating on the man that you've been eyeing with your boyfriend for quite while in full, amazed at how such a person is standing right there in front of you. a firm handshake exchanges itself between you and him, though shidou has to really hold back on pulling you close to him and kissing those shiny, plump lips of yours in front of the team, in front of sae.

"a pleasure to meet you, shidou-san," you greet pleasantly, feeling your boyfriend's stare on you from behind your head. “sae’s told me a lot about you.”

even your voice is pretty. shidou shivers at the sound of his name falling on your lips, getting jealous that sae's name gets to be echoed from such a voice on a daily basis.

sae lets you sit in the empty bleachers, just letting you do your work quietly as the men practice. shidou wishes that you could take your head out of the book so you can watch the behind the scenes play of his iconic dragon drive in real time; even a sliver of your attention would up his energy tenfold. sometimes, you would poke your head out and watch sae as he dribbles on the field, eyes sparkling with admiration. he wishes you could pay attention to him like that.

he shouldn't feel like this. your sae's girl. it feels so wrong for trying to win the attention of a girl who's in a relationship with japan's top midfielders... but shidou can't help but indulge in the guilt, feeling like he's getting a thrill over it. multiply that by his own lingering obsession towards sae that sae just indulges in, relishing in the attention that the untamed shidou ryusei seems to spotlight on him. the more sae tries to act indifferent towards him, the more shidou enjoys the chase, running off its high.

a pretty girl he wants to ruin and a pretty boy he wants to own in his field of vision. and they're dating? shidou thinks he's won at life.

his cells are getting excited. shidou has to bite his lip from making a rather... carnal sound when he sees you and sae kissing lovingly near the exit of the locker room, your fingers threading through his hair and sae's hands on your hips, thumbs caressing you fondly. shidou draws a shaking, hot breath, his eye twitching... he really doesn't know which person he wants to be more.

unbeknownst to shidou, sae has been plotting the entire thing in his head. shidou turns back to go to the locker room, telling everyone he has some "business" to attend to, and sae, amidst still kissing you, subtly opens one of his eyes, trailing after his figure.

“did it work?” you ask him, slightly breathless through the kiss.

sae merely hums, not breaking from you, with the smallest hint of a smirk visible on his lips.

[blueheron15]

better than the movies

inspired by this ask! hope you like anon <3

warnings: some cursing, light fluff at the end, sooo much fluff, jj is kinda an idiot!!

you were truly jj’s person. the one person who was there for him no matter what, along with the rest of the pogues of course, but it was always different with you.

you showed him gentleness, true love, sweetness, and support. your kind heart and beautiful mind had him absolutely enamored.

that’s not to say, though, he wasn’t an idiot sometimes. typical jj.

you rolled over in your bed with a pout, staring at jj’s message and wondering how to respond.

you: are you almost here?

you: jj?

you: please answer

jj: hi baby

jj: i’m sorry but i got distracted with the boys and long story short i’m staying at john b’s tonight

you: oh

jj: but we were planning on hanging here tomorrow anyways so i’ll see you in the morning is that okay? love you ❤️

you fought back tears and typed out a respond, trying not to sound hurt.

you: yeah i love you too

you clicked you phone off, dropping it some where on your mattress. you knew jj loved and cared about you. but, after dating for nearly a year, these kind of events had begun to happen more and more often. and you were very upset about that.

the next morning, like jj promised, he was at the chateau waiting for you. as you flicked the kickstand down on your bicycle, he was already outside waiting to greet you with a hug and a kiss.

“hi my pretty girl.” he said, enveloping you in his arms and pressing a kiss to your temple. “how was your night last night? i’m sorry i had’ta bail.”

you forced a grin, although you really did feel better in his presence. “it was fine.”

he cradled your face in his hands, giving you a soft and loving kiss. for the rest of the day as you lazed around on the couch with all of your friends, he kept you on his lap and didn’t even let you out of his sight.

you thought that, maybe, the few times this had happened before were all just flukes.

until, a few mornings after he had been staying with you for a couple of days, you awoke to an empty bed.

maybe he was making you breakfast! you had hoped. but, when you opened your phone to check the time, the first notification you got was from him.

jj: the weather is too good today, so i’m out fishing with john b and pope. sorry i know you hate to wake up alone but they picked me up early. aiming for a catch thats as big as my 🍆😛

jj: i love you

you couldn’t even chuckle at his little innuendo.

you: ❤️

“what’s the matter?” kiara questioned, braiding your hair as you sat criss cross on her bed.

you and the girls had a sleepover last night at kie’s house, which helped you forget about your annoyance at jj. but, now that it was morning, and y’all were planning to meet up the guys on the boat for the day, you felt upset and almost dreaded seeing him.

you sighed, picking at a loose thread on a pillow. “it’s just jj being jj.” you mumbled.

“what does that mean?” sarah asked, quirking a brow as she rubbed sunscreen into her skin.

“he… he keeps blowing me off to hang out with the guys. and i really don’t think it’s intentional, but it just makes me upset.”

“sounds like classic rude boy.” cleo commented, throwing and catching a hackey sack in the air.

“that’s why i’m trying not to take it personally, but…”

“it’s hard not to.” sarah finished with a sympathetic smile. you nodded in agreement.

“listen,” kie said as she tied off your braid. “jj, god bless him, is pretty oblivious sometimes. but i’m sure if you just tell him that it’s really bothering you, then he’ll stop. right now he probably doesn’t even know it’s making you upset.”

“you’re right.” you nodded, smiling as you felt the french braid in your hair. “thanks.”

you lay tanning on the bow of the boat, jj’s head resting on your stomach as you threaded your fingers through his damp hair. he practically was purring like a cat.

“mmmm right there.”

you giggled. “hey, jay?”

he hummed in acknowledgment.

“do you maybe wanna eat at the wreck tonight? just you n me? i feel like we haven’t had a date in forever.”

he grabbed your hand, pressing his lips to it multiple times. “sure.” he flipped around so he rested his chin on your stomach, looking at you in admiration. he snaked his hand up to your bikini strap, fiddling with it before letting it snap back against your skin.

“hey!” you protested playfully.

he chuckled, rolling over, and leaping to do a backflip off the edge of the boat.

later that evening, your legs and feet were intertwined underneath the table as you and jj dined on some diet cokes and french fries.

the conversation was light and playful, but you could feel your heart rate speed up a bit as you came closer to bringing your frustration up.

it’s not like the two of you hadn’t argued before, but you didn’t like making him upset any more than he liked making you upset.

you took in a breath as you watched him swipe mindlessly on his phone.

“so, i was thinking-“

“wait up, hold that thought for a sec y/n.”

you pressed your lips together, frowning. jj suddenly burst out laughing with excitement and glee.

“w-what is it?” you asked.

he turned his phone around to show you. “chud is playing right now! pope’s got it on his tv, and like, it never plays anymore. the bastard won’t record it so imma head over to his place. you wanna come?”

you side, dejected. you felt completely and utterly unwanted.

you waved a hand in dismissal as you glued your eyes to your french fries, swirling one around his ketchup. “no, it’s alright. i think i’m actually just going to go home.”

you were met with a look of surprise from him. “you sure? want me to drive you? i-“

“no it’s not a problem.” you cut in, standing up. “you go hang out with your friends, and i’ll go home alone.” you stated, hoping that would give him a hint about how you were feeling.

“uhhhh. okay?”

you huffed, shoving a hand in your wallet and throwing a twenty dollar bill on the table before walking out. you spent the night crying, and ignoring jj’s messages.

as you and the rest of the pogues were chilling at the chateau, you were actively avoiding jj. you knew he didn’t deserve it (well, maybe a little) and god bless his heart he was probably so confused, but you just didn’t know how to deal with the hurt.

he was blowing you off. he was ditching you. so now you were pulling away from him, too.

you swung on the hammock while jj was waxing his board, chatting pope’s ear off.

he stared at you longingly.

“i just don’t know what i did, man.” he sighed.

“well, it’s y/n.” pope explained logically. “she wouldn’t just be ignoring you for nothing.”

he groaned. “i need a beer.”

“hey, no. wait-“ pope said grabbing jj’s bicep thoughtfully. “you’ve been drinking, or just hanging out, with me and john b more often than normal. like, without y/n.”

“yeah… so?” jj asked, his mind blank.

“and is she okay with that? like, when i picked you up from her place to go fishing, did you double check with her?”

“… no.”

“and when i told you chud was on the tv… i knew y’all were hanging out!” he palmed his forehead. “that one’s on me, man.”

“shit.” jj whispered. “dude, i’ve totally been blowing her off!”

“well then no wonder she’s upset.”

“ughhh.” jj groaned, sweeping an anxious hand through his hair. “fuck!”

“it’s alright man.” pope comforted. “you can figure this out.”

jj sighed, bracing his arms on either side of his board, his head hanging dejectedly before raising to look at you on the hammock.

“i’m just… so comfortable with her. i know she’ll always be there for me. so i guess i don’t even think twice before bailing on her cuz i know she’ll be there when i get back.” he mumbled.

“well.” pope said, clapping jj on his back. “don’t tell me that, man. tell her.”

you were chilling in your room, scrolling mindlessly on your phone when you got a text message from pope.

pope: i know this is random but look out your window

your face scrunched in confusion. “the hell?” you muttered to yourself, getting of your bed and going to your window.

outside, standing in front of his motorcycle, was your boyfriend. he was holding a sign, a piece of paper with his messy handwriting on it.

it read: y/n l/n will you please talk to me

you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered, or the butterflies that erupted in your stomach.

you bit your lip to suppress the wide grin threatening to take over you features of you opened the window.

“y/n.” jj said. “i’m an idiot.”

you smiled cheekily.

“please, please, please forgive me. look, get into one of those cute ass sundresses of yours, and come out here. i have a surprise to make it up to you.”

you changed, and clung on to jj as he sped through the outer banks.

in a little alcove on the beach was a picnic blanket with a box of pizza nestled on top.

“jj…” you whispered in awe.

“that’s not all.” he said, guiding you with a hand on his lower back.

he whipped out some wild flowers from his pocket.

“where did you get those?” you asked, delighted, gratefully accepting them.

“from your backyard.” he smiled sheepishly.

“i love you.” you said softly.

“does this mean you forgive me?” he questioned, both of you guys sitting down across from one another.

you nodded, interlacing your hands together. “just… explain?”

he opened the pizza box. “well, y/n, you’re the love of my life. the only girl i’ve ever loved, really. ‘n you know how hard it is for me to open up, but you… you’ve always been there for me. for the first time in my life, i have someone who i know isn’t going to abandon me. of course i have the pogues, but they aren’t in love with me, ya know?”

you nodded, tears filling your eyes.

“no… please don’t cry.” he cooed, wiping them away.

“i-i know.” you nodded, sniffling. “it’s just been a hard couple’a weeks.”

he kissed away your tears, mumbling a “lemme make it up to you.”

you smiled, nodding your head.

he laid you down against the red checkered blanket, you hair fanning around you like a halo and he scrunched up your sundress til it bunched up at your hips.

trailing hot kisses up your thighs, you shuddered, hands holding onto his shoulders. maybe it had only been two days without him, but you missed him like crazy.

as he buried his face into your thighs, he whispered and praised you with sweet nothings as your hands flew to grip his hair.

“you’re so so so beautiful.”

“i love you so fuckin much.”

“my baby deserves to feel sooo good.”

“i would give up anything for you, mama. anything. just wanna make you happy.”

your back arched, nearing your release as his tongue worked magic on your pussy. you tried to hold in your whimpers and your moans, being that you were in public.

this caused your hips to buck wildly, his forearm coming down against your stomach to keep them still.

“let it out, y/n. needa hear it.” he mumbled before attaching his lips to your core again.

without, you let out a mewl as you came.

he crawled up your body, peppering kisses and shimmying your underwear back up and fixing your dress.

you kissed, sighing with lust and contentment. he tucked a flower behind your ear and held you pressed up against his chest as y’all ate the pizza. and all was forgiven <3

[emilys-bangs]

my sleepless night, my winless fight | e.p

Tags: established relationship, fluff, use of petnames, no use of yn, sleep deprived emily, this is so soft omg

Summary: Emily can't sleep. She comes and joins you on the couch, hoping to find sleep with you.

Word count: 1.3k

You’re on the couch, reading with the lights dimmed, when Emily shuffles in. She’s wrapped herself in a midnight blue blanket, her hair trapped under it as she plops down next to you and immediately curls into your side.

“Aw, hey.” You greet, setting your book face-down on the couch next to you. Your girlfriend is painted golden in the soft light of the lamps; you smile at the shadows of her lashes on her cheeks. She shifts to sit sideways onto your lap, just like you knew she would. “Does my little baby want a snuggle?” You coo, your arm automatically hooking around her waist to keep her close.

“Shut up,” Emily mutters, her words holding no weight with the way she burrows into you. Her nose nuzzles under your jaw, her legs spreading over your lap; the tips of her socked toes nudge against your book.

“Mmm, you’re just like Sergio,” you whisper, threading your fingers through her soft hair. It’s trapped beneath her blanket so you free it, letting it spill down her shoulders in waves of black. “I live with two clingy cats, it seems.”

“It seems like you want your clingy privileges revoked.” Emily shoots back, her voice muffled into your skin. You stifle a shiver at the vibration of it, warm and rich through your body. The skin of your neck loses its warmth as Emily comes out of her hiding spot, half-heartedly glaring at you with gold swirling in her eyes.

“No, your highness, I’m sorry,” you say solemnly, tucking your hand into the burrito she’s made herself into and searching for her own hand, freeing it and bringing it to your lips. Her knuckles are cold, and you make your kiss linger. “Stay here as long as you like, baby.” Your voice is soft this time, sincere, and Emily doesn’t even protest the nickname. 

Her fingers curl around yours. She smiles, soft half moons curving in her cheeks. “You can be sweet when you’re not being a little fuck.”

You grin, “Ditto.”

Emily pokes her tongue out and you chase away the petulant expression with a kiss, your playful dispute dissolving with a sigh. Her cold hand—how is she always cold?—cups your face, fingers parting around your ear and pulling you down into her. Your neck cranes, your back protests, but her lips are the sweetest balm, soft and tasting like the purplish blue of frustration.

“Couldn’t sleep?” You ask against her mouth.

“No,” she grumbles. Her lips brush yours and she takes them in another kiss, slow and unhurried like she’s trying to soothe herself to sleep. You let her have it, tangling your fingers in her hair and gently scraping your nails against her scalp while she presses soft kisses to your mouth. 

Eventually her breath puffs across your chin in a low inhale. Emily leans back into your arm, trusting you to hold her weight as she rests her head on your shoulder.

“Keep me company?” You skim your knuckles along her pale cheek.

Emily’s mouth pinches at your unnecessary question. “Why else would I have come here, then?”

“Smartass,” you chide lovingly. “Just answer the question. God, you’re cranky when you’re sleep deprived.”

Suddenly her brows knit together. “Don’ mean to be. Sorry, amor.” She whispers, her eyes turning doe-like with regret.

“Quit that,” you murmur, gently kissing the tip of her nose to show her it’s alright. She’s not convinced, so you kiss her frown; the scrunch loosens beneath your lips. “We both know I’m just as bad when I’m hungry. ’Least this you can’t help.”

“I just don’t know why.” Emily huffs, a frustrated pout curling her lips downward. “I’m so tired and I’ve been trying for hours, I just wanna sleep already.” Her voice is the tiniest bit whiny, but with the dark circles under her eyes, you think it’s justified.

It breaks your heart to see her like this.

You nudge her off you. “Here, scooch a little.”

Emily frowns deeper. “You’re kicking me off?” She sulks.

“No.” You kiss the tip of her nose. “Just get up a little, you’ll see what I wanna do.”

She does so reluctantly, retracting her legs from your lap and standing up. As you situate yourself on the long end of the couch, she watches while chewing on her lip, her eyes bleary as she toys with the edges of her blanket. 

You place two pillows behind you and spread your legs straight, adjusting your book next to you before holding your hand out for Emily. She takes it and you tug until she reaches the edge of the couch. You tug again and she gets the hint, carefully climbing on your lap—on top of you, really.

It takes a few seconds before she adjusts herself, slipping an arm around your waist and fitting a knee between yours. When she stops shifting you ask, “Comfy?” into her hairline.

“Yeah,” Emily whispers. “Thanks, dolcezza.”

“You’re welcome.” You kiss her forehead. You wrap your own arm around her back, securing her and her fuzzy blanket to your chest. “Just stay here with me, alright? You’ll get bored enough that you might fall asleep anyway.”

“Never bored when I’m with you,” she murmurs into your neck. Her lashes are wispy on your skin, ticklish as she blinks.

A smile tugs at your lips. “Ah, cranky Emily is gone, time for lovergirl Emily?” You pick up your book again, holding it open with one hand and keeping the other on Emily’s back. “Welcome back, sweetheart, I missed you.”

Emily sighs into your neck; you can’t tell if it’s frustrated or not. “You really are somethin’.” She says, her voice like warm honey.

Regardless, you kiss her forehead. “You are, too, babe.” Of its own accord, your hand slips into her hair again. Emily sighs as you lightly drag your nails over her scalp, the warmth of her breath sinking into your neck.

“Read to me?”

“Sure.”

As you open up Jane Eyre, your eyes skimming the passages you’d read countless times, a thought comes to you.

“Hey, Em?” You rake your fingers through her hair.

“Hmm?”

“You know, you remind me an awful lot of Jane.”

A small, huffed laugh escapes her. Emily’s hand slips under your shirt, finding your warm skin underneath. “Why’s that?” She asks softly. Her voice is close to drowsy, so you make sure to continue your rhythmic scratching along her scalp.

“I’m not sure. Think it’s ’cause she’s so blunt. Makes me laugh.” You kiss her hairline, gently trying to nudge her into sleep.

“Honesty is a virtue.” She replies. “One I definitely have.”

“One you definitely do.” You agree. “Can I read now?”

“I wasn’t the one who interrupted you,” she retorts.

“Okay, well, hush. The sound of the dressing-bell dispersed the party.” You begin. Your voice is hardly the most melodic, but you try anyway. “It was not till after dinner that I saw him again: he then seemed quite at his ease.”

As you continue reading, Emily grows heavier on top of you. The circles she’d been rubbing on your stomach start to slow, then they cease entirely as her breath evens out. You still continue reading out loud, your voice a low whisper, still continuing to play with her hair long after she’s gone to sleep.

When drowsiness starts to force your own eyes closed, you fold the corner of the page and toss the book somewhere on the couch. Emily doesn’t stir and you wrap both arms properly around her now. She’s warm enough that you don’t need an added blanket despite the winter, and you brush your lips along her forehead in another kiss, your whisper of, goodnight gone unanswered.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism

[deansbeer]

morning muse ・ VHACKER. ៸៸៸ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! ♡ pinned library

SYNOPSIS. you wake before vinnie one morning, deciding you want to photograph his adorable sleepy form with your new polaroid camera he gifted you, resulting in lazy morning cuddles and kisses.

WARNING(S). fluff | kissing | fem!reader | cuddling | reader taking photos of vinnie.

KARI NOTES. my drafts are full of half-finished wips. i'm trying my best to get them all out !!! ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜

warm morning light filters through the window as you start to stir from sleep. blinking awake, you take in vinnie's still-dozing form next to you, chest rising and falling steadily. a lazy smile tugs at your lips as memories of christmas day surface - exchanging gifts by the tree, vinnie presenting you with the vintage polaroid camera you'd been eyeing for months.

your fingers itch to try it out as you take in vinnie's handsome, relaxed features. his curls falls gently over his eyes, lashes fluttering lightly in dreams. you just have to capture this moment.

carefully slipping out of the bed so as not to disturb him, you retrieve the camera from your dresser. climbing back onto the mattress, you slowly straddle vinnie's lap, holding the camera up to frame the shot. but as you go to press the button, vinnie stirs from underneath you with a sleepy hum.

"good morning, sleepyhead," you greet him softly, brushing his hair back tenderly. vinnie blinks up at you, taking a moment to focus before smiling drowsily. "morning, baby. what're you up to?" he rumbles, voice husky from sleep. you lift the camera briefly.

"just wanna get some shots of you while you're all cozy. is that okay?" you ask sweetly. vinnie chuckles, stretching below you like a contented cat. "you sure know how to wake a guy up. go ahead, beautiful, do your thing."

grinning, you angle the camera down to capture your view—vinnie gazing up at you adoringly with sleepy eyes and bedhead, arms folded casually behind his head. when it prints, vinnie peeks at the square photo emerging.

"not bad for a first shot," he notes appreciatively. thrilled, you take a few more pictures from above; vinnie flashing lazy smiles and smug smirks, winking playfully in one. after the third print develops, you line them up on the nightstand with care.

"thank you for being my morning muse, babe," you coo, planting a kiss on his scruffy cheek. vinnie hums contentedly, large hands drifting up your bare thighs.

"no problem at all. i think i deserve some morning cuddles now though," he rumbles cheekily, strong arms wrapping around your waist to flip your positions. vinnie cages you below him, nuzzling your neck. sighing happily, you thread fingers through his messy curls as he trails kisses along your collarbones.

"thank you again for the camera, vinnie. i love it," you murmur gratefully. vinnie lifts his head, dark eyes glittering warmly. "only the best for my girl. i'm glad you're getting use out of it already. feel free to photograph me whenever you please," he teases playfully.

you laugh softly, tracing his defined jaw. "oh i plan to document all your cuddly, sleepy phases. might have to start an album," you muse. vinnie pretends to groan, burying his face back in your neck. "i think i've created a monster," he mumbles into your skin, making you giggle.

arching into his body heat, you exhaled sharply. "your handy work. now do these morning cuddles include kissing?" you inquire jokingly. vinnie chuckles, hovering over you with a playful smirk. "well, i suppose i could spare some kisses for my favorite girl," he drawls, dipping in to capture your lips warmly.

you hum happily into the tender kiss, hands sliding up vinnie's bare back. he holds your face gently between his large palms, slowly deepening the embrace with quiet reverence. you lose track of time drifting peacefully in vinnie's arms, exchanging sweet caresses and kisses under the golden morning light.

when you finally break for air, vinnie gazes down at you with so much adoration it takes your breath away. brushing back your tousled hair, he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. "i love you so much, baby. thanks for starting my day off right," he murmurs against your skin.

beaming, you squeeze vinnie tightly against you. "i love you too, babe. thanks for making every morning with you a gift." he smiles lovingly, pulling the blankets up cocoon-style to envelope you both protectively. your polaroid camera sits on the nightstand, ready to continue documenting all your cozy mornings together. and with vinnie's strong, comforting embrace all around you, you drift back to a peaceful doze with eyes full of promise for sweet tomorrows yet to come.

[xuchiya]

accidentally have 8 pets || ateez || chapter 2

| genre: fluff. slice of life. small tinge of angst. kind of supernatural(?) | mentions: doctors. vets. needles. adoption. mean husky owner. TAGLIST: CLOSED

back to masterlist || chapter 3

When the day finally arrived—a full week later—I sprang out of bed with a surge of excitement thrumming in my chest. The thought of welcoming another companion into the apartment filled me with anticipation, making my morning routine feel lighter than usual.

As I stepped into the kitchen, the scent of warm, buttery pancakes greeted me. Douyin stood by the stove, expertly flipping the last batch before sliding them onto a plate. Wooyoung perched on the counter, his sleek black fur shimmering under the kitchen light as he meticulously groomed himself.

“Good morning, Woo,” I murmured, running my fingers through his fur as I passed by. Predictably, he let out an irritated hiss before hopping off the counter and making his way to his food bowl with an air of feline dignity.

I chuckled softly and moved behind Douyin, wrapping my hands around my warm coffee mug. “Morning, Do.”

He exhaled sharply, barely glancing up. “Please don’t tell me you’re planning something today.”

I frowned, feigning innocence as I took a seat across from him and helped myself to breakfast. “Why would you say that?”

He gave me a long, knowing look before shaking his head. “Your energy is different today.”

I hummed in amusement, taking a bite of my pancakes. “Is that a bad thing?”

Douyin sighed, setting down his fork. “Not bad—just suspicious. It’s the same energy you had when you brought Wooyoung home. And when you keep buying albums online. And buying lightsticks—”

I raised a hand, cutting him off with a sheepish laugh. “Okay, okay, I get it. But can you really blame me? The world can be harsh and there are things that need to be healed so you can keep moving forward.”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “It’s not that, Noona. It’s just... I already know I won’t like whatever you’re about to say. And yet, somehow, you always gaslight me into believing it’s for the greater good.”

I grinned, shoulders rising in an exaggerated ‘Well, you’re not wrong’ movement. He groaned, running a hand down his face. “And since you’re my noona, I don’t really have a choice but to listen, do I?”

My playful demeanor softened, and I placed my fork down, looking at him earnestly. “Do, you do have a choice. If something bothers you, you can always tell me. But I also know that Taehyun already texted you about me adopting a new kitty.”

He scoffed, rubbing his temple. “And I already knew you’d made up your mind. Not just for you—but for Woo, too.”

Our gazes drifted toward Wooyoung, who was now curled up in his little cat house, his tail twitching as he pawed at a loose thread. My heart clenched at the sight. I adored Wooyoung with all my heart, but even I couldn’t ignore how lonely he looked whenever I left for long hours at the café. He always greeted me with the loudest meows when I came home, his soft purring grounding me after exhausting days. But the thought of him spending all those hours alone in an empty apartment—it ached.

I turned back to Douyin, my voice quieter. “Are you okay with it?” He stared at me for a long moment before sighing in defeat. Then, without warning, he stood up, walked over, and wrapped his arms around me.

“When I said it’s for the greater good,” he murmured, squeezing me a little tighter, “I always knew it really is.”

A warmth bloomed in my chest, and I chuckled softly, hugging him back.

After getting ready for the day, Douyin waved goodbye as he hopped onto his scooter, speeding off toward the university. I watched him disappear down the street before adjusting the strap of my tote bag, where Wooyoung was nestled comfortably. His small weight was familiar, a warm presence against my side as I made my way toward the café.

The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of fresh bread from nearby bakeries. By the time I arrived, the café was still quiet, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound accompanying me as I prepared pastries and brewed the first batch of coffee. The comforting routine settled over me like second nature—measuring ingredients, kneading dough, setting trays into the oven.

But amidst the peaceful rhythm, an insistent meow broke through the silence.

I paused, turning toward the source of the noise. Wooyoung, still tucked inside my tote bag, was yowling at me as if demanding my full attention. He jumps out of the bag, trotting towards me, “Woo~baby,” I cooed, wiping flour from my hands as I crouched down to his level. “For the love of goodness, why are you meowing so loud?”

He quieted for a moment, then wove between my legs, his tail brushing against my calves. I sighed, reading his body language all too well. I squatted down, resting my elbows on my knees. “Are you worried that I’ll replace you with the new kitty?”

Wooyoung stopped in front of me, his golden eyes blinking slowly. His silence spoke volumes. I let out a soft breath, reaching out to scratch under his chin. “I would never do that, Woo. You’ll always be my number one kitty and my manager.”

He let out a soft mewl before rubbing his head against my knee, his affection melting away whatever lingering guilt I had.

I chuckled, stroking his fur gently. “I love you too, Woo.”

Once the pastries were neatly packed into a paper bag, I adjusted my tote, making sure Wooyoung was secure inside. His head poked out just enough to watch our surroundings as I made my way back to the clinic. The familiar chime of the entrance bell rang as I stepped inside, the scent of antiseptic mixing with the sweet aroma of baked goods.

"And that's official!" Taehyun announced with a grin as I signed the adoption papers. "Mr. Hongjoong here is now adopted."

I blinked, looking up from the paper. "Hongjoong?" Looking over at the now clean and well-groomed cat, I took in his fresh trim, the soft collar around his neck. He looked... regal, even after everything he had been through.

Taehyun chuckled, nodding towards Wooyoung. "You named him after a black cat from one of the groups you like, so why not keep the theme going? At least you won’t have to struggle thinking of a name."

I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could, Wooyoung suddenly wriggled free from my bag, landing on the ground with a soft thud, "Wooyoung!" I called, scared that he might pick up a cat-fight with Hongjoong. He darted forward, stopping just in front of Hongjoong. The new cat eyed him warily, body tense. Then, to my surprise, Wooyoung leaned in, nudging his head against Hongjoong’s neck. The other cat hesitated but eventually leaned away, cautious but not entirely rejecting the interaction.

Taehyun laughed, ruffling their fur. "Looks like they're getting along well."

I nodded, though my eyes lingered on Hongjoong. A name once familiar now rolled off my tongue with ease, "Hongjoong..."

That evening, after settling Hongjoong into his new home, I busied myself tidying up the apartment while the two cats got acquainted. The space had always felt warm, familiar—a reflection of the quiet comfort I’d built for myself—but tonight, something was different. The air felt charged with a presence I couldn’t quite name, as if an unspoken thread had been woven between me and the small feline now exploring his surroundings.

Wooyoung, ever the observant one, had taken to watching Hongjoong with sharp, knowing eyes, his tail swishing in slow, measured movements. Unlike the playful ball of energy he usually was, he remained still, tracking Hongjoong’s every step as if studying him—no, as if recognizing him.

I had just finished washing the dishes when an urgent meow cut through the quiet. I turned, only to find Wooyoung staring at me, his pupils dilated, his tail flicking in agitation. He let out another loud yowl, his paws stamping against the floor in frustration.

“Woo~baby, what is it now?” I sighed, drying my hands on a towel. Instead of responding with another impatient meow, Wooyoung did something unexpected—he bit the hem of my pants and tugged.

A sharp pull, insistent. My brows furrowed. This wasn’t like him. “Okay, okay! Geez, you’re acting like the world’s about to end,” I muttered, allowing him to lead me forward.

He practically dragged me down the hall, stopping abruptly at the door to my bedroom. My heart kicked against my ribs as I stared at him. His ears were flattened slightly, his body tense with a quiet urgency that sent a shiver down my spine.

“What, is there a ghost or something?” I joked weakly, reaching for the doorknob. I hadn’t expected my breath to catch the moment I pushed it open.

There, settled on top of my vanity, was Hongjoong. But it wasn’t just the sight of him that made my pulse stutter—it was what he held between his tiny teeth.

A string of pearls.

My pearl necklace. The one my grandmother had gifted me all those years ago. The one I kept safely in my vanity, untouched, protected. And yet, here it was, dangling from his mouth like some treasured prize.

“Hongjoong,” I breathed, stepping forward as if in a trance. The small feline met my gaze with golden eyes that held something deeper than mere curiosity. There was recognition there, a quiet understanding, as if he knew the significance of what he held. He nibbled at the pearls, his ears twitching ever so slightly at my reaction.

I knelt before him, my hand outstretched, my heart hammering in my chest. “That’s not food, you know.”

He hesitated for a moment, then, with a tiny chirp, finally released the necklace into my palm. The cool weight of the pearls against my skin sent a strange wave of emotion through me—something unexplainable, something heavy yet oddly comforting.

It reminded me of that one clip of my bias, completely dressed good in one of his fashion runways in Paris, how he adores pearls as it always looks extravagant in every look. I look between the pearl necklace and Hongjoong, “Do you like this Hongie?”

The cat meows softly, blinking slowly. Beside me, Wooyoung let out an exasperated grumble and promptly bopped Hongjoong on the head with his paw, as if scolding him for causing unnecessary trouble.

A laugh bubbled up from my throat, breaking the quiet tension. Hongjoong, unfazed by the reprimand, rubbed his small body against my arm, his purrs vibrating through my skin like a gentle hum of reassurance.

I exhaled, shaking my head with a fond smile. “Guess I’ll have to keep this somewhere safer, huh?”

Wooyoung, still watching with his ever-perceptive gaze, huffed before plopping down beside me, his warm presence grounding me.

Hongjoong curled up against my leg, his small frame pressing into me like he belonged there, as if he had always belonged. His purring never stopped, steady and rhythmic, syncing with the quiet thrum of my own heartbeat.

I ran my fingers through their soft fur, my chest tightening with something indescribable—something that felt like fate, like familiarity, like the beginning of a story I hadn’t yet realized I was part of. 

These past days, ever since I adopted Hongjoong, I started noticing something peculiar—he always seemed to meow at the way I dressed. Like even my mismatched pajamas, whether he clawed his paws at it or not, meows to no end— Douyin even has to change his pants often because Hong joong tends to hiss at our chosen outfits. 

For example, like today, I was getting ready to meet up with Douyin for our usual grocery run before movie night. So, I slipped into a simple, bright-colored top and a pair of white pants. Since it wasn’t a fancy place, I figured something cozy would do. Just as I was about to leave my room, a loud, drawn-out meow stopped me in my tracks.

Hongjoong hissed.

Shocked, I turned around, my brows furrowing. He had never hissed at me before. Near the door, Wooyoung simply watched as the scene unfolded, his tail curled neatly around his paws, “H-Hongie? What’s the matter with you?” I asked, confused. “Wooyoung, what happened?”

Wooyoung only purred in response before climbing onto my bed, entirely unbothered. Before I could make sense of it, Hongjoong suddenly dashed toward a pile of unfolded clothes on my chair and dove straight into them.

My eyes widened as I rushed forward. “Hongie! What are you doing?”

Frantically, I started removing each article of clothing, trying to reach him. Finally, when I removed the last piece, I found him staring up at me, his doe eyes round and unwavering. Clutched in his tiny mouth was a familiar piece of fabric.

A cream-colored, simple crop top. I frowned, picking him up. “Hongie… what–…” My voice trailed off as I realized he was biting onto my crop top. I looked between him and the shirt, the gears in my mind turning.

“Okay… Thank you?” I said, cautiously taking the cloth from him. I was about to toss it onto my drawer when a sharp meow stopped me again. Hongjoong clawed at my current top, his little paws insistent. I stared at him. Then at the crop top. Then back at him.

He… wanted me to wear it?

I sighed, placing him beside Wooyoung before turning around to change. Slipping into the crop top, I smoothed it down and turned to glance at the mirror. My eyes widened in surprise. The top actually looked good. The color complimented my pants perfectly. It was simple, yet it somehow worked better than my original choice.

I turned to face my two feline fashion critics. “Do I look good?”

Hongjoong blinked slowly—a cat’s way of showing affection. Wooyoung, on the other hand, simply yawned before hopping off the bed and exiting the room without a care. I sighed, shaking my head as I grabbed a pair of socks and scooped Hongjoong into my arms. “Mister, I am talking to you too.”

He only meowed before settling himself onto the couch, utterly content. I chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head. “Fine, fine. But I’m not taking fashion advice from you every day, okay?”

Hongjoong merely purred, as if to say, We’ll see about that.

Later that evening, while Douyin went to his room to get ready, the two kittens finished their dinner as I busied myself preparing for our movie marathon. The apartment felt warm, cozy, just as it always did—until a sudden howl echoed from the other side of the door.

I froze, my hands pausing mid-motion. Wooyoung and Hong joong’s ears perked up from their spot and jump on the table near the entrance, ears twitching as they, too, turned their attention toward the sound.

Frowning, I stepped closer and peeked through the peephole. A gray husky sat outside the apartment across from mine, its paws scratching at the door, its cries muffled yet urgent. My heart clenched at the sight. How long has it been out here?

Without thinking, I opened the door and stepped out.

The two cats darted after me, their tiny paws padding against the floor, but they didn’t stray far—only stopping just past the threshold to cautiously observe the crying dog. The husky let out another whimper, but the moment it noticed me, it yelped and took a small step back, its tail curling slightly. I softened my expression, offering a small smile before glancing at the closed door.

Gently, I knocked.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, after what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open to reveal a man—somewhere older than me, groggy, disheveled, and already looking irritated. His eyes flickered between me and the husky before narrowing. “What do you want, lady? This better be good.”

A wave of unease settled in my chest right off the bat, but I pushed it aside, focusing instead on the husky still lingering by my feet, “Your dog was pawing at the door,” I said, keeping my tone even. “I figured he might’ve gotten locked out by accident—”

“I know that,” the man interrupted, voice sharp. My eyes widened slightly, subtly trying not to be scared yet the hisses of the cat were enough to show how much this man showed off too much bad aura.  “I was about to get him myself. No need to shove it in my face. You’re not his owner.” Before I could say another word, he clicked his tongue and snapped his fingers. “Get in here, boy.”

The husky hesitated. I swore I saw a flicker of fear in its blue eyes before it finally obeyed, slinking inside with its head low.

And just like that, the door slammed shut. I blinked, stunned. My lips parted, but no words came out. The air felt heavy, an uncomfortable weight pressing against my chest. That man… something about the way he spoke, the way he treated the husky, made an uneasy coil in my stomach.

I was still staring at the closed door when the one behind me opened, “Noona?”

Douyin’s voice pulled me back to the present. I turned to see him standing there, concern laced in his features. “What were you doing outside? Hong, Woo, get inside, you two.” The two kittens trotted back into the apartment, but I remained still, my gaze lingering on the door in front of me.

A small sigh escaped my lips. “I hope the husky is okay.”

Douyin stood beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder in silent reassurance. I could only hope that behind that door, the husky wasn’t being met with the same coldness I had just witnessed.

After setting up for our usual weekend movie marathon, I watched as Hongjoong stretched lazily on the couch, his pearl collar catching the dim glow of the TV screen. It suited him too well, almost as if he had always worn pearls, like they belonged to him in another life.

Yet, no matter how much I tried to focus on the comfort of the moment, my mind kept drifting back to the husky. The way he whimpered at that door. The way he hesitated, ears pinned back, before obeying his owner’s sharp command.

A quiet sigh escaped me.

Beside me, Douyin noticed instantly. He mirrored my sigh before reaching over to gently pat my head.

“Don’t worry about it, Noona,” he murmured. “Dogs are intelligent, you know? They understand things in ways we don’t. If it ever gets too rough… they know when to leave.”

His words were meant to reassure me, but they only deepened the ache in my chest. I ran my fingers through Wooyoung’s soft fur, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath my touch.

“It’s just…” My voice faltered. “Dogs are loyal. They don’t just walk away.”

Douyin leaned back, arms folded. “That’s true,” he admitted. “But they also know who has a good heart and who doesn’t.” His eyes flickered toward me, warm yet firm. “So for now, focus on the movie.”

The microwave beeps from the kitchen, and I instinctively moved to get up, but Douyin beat me to it. “You’ve done enough prep,” he said, already walking away. Moments later, he returned with a bowl of freshly popped popcorn, handing it to me before flopping onto the couch with a tired sigh. Hongjoong curling up beside him, Douying automatically scratching the spot behind his ear.

“I still can’t believe you actually got him a custom pearl collar,” he muttered, shaking his head.

I smirked, tossing a piece of popcorn into my mouth. “He kept going back to my jewelry. I figured it’d make him happy.” Hongjoong let out a contented purr, curling up on his lap, paws tucked neatly beneath him. He seemed so at peace, the pearls glistening softly around his neck.

Then, just as the movie is half way—momentarily forgetting about the husky, Hongjong lifted his head, ears twitching at something across the room. A moment later, he leaped off the couch, trotting towards my shelf of album collections. Douyin and I shared a glance before watching him intently. He didn’t just stare at the shelf—he fixated on a single album. Then, with careful precision, he lifted his paw and tapped against the cover, right on Hongjoong’s face.

Douyin sucked in a sharp breath. “Hey, Noona... has it ever occurred to you what reincarnation could be?”

I frowned, adjusting Wooyoung, who had his mouth wide open in his sleep, completely oblivious to the shift in atmosphere. “No... I mean, if it does, it shows.”

My gaze trailed back to Hongjoong, who still sat there, unmoving, his golden eyes locked onto the image of the man he shared a name with. Douyin exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know, but... it’s weird, right? The way he acts. It’s like—”

“It can’t be that they were reincarnated,” I cut in, my voice quieter than before. But even as I said it, doubt lingered in my mind.

I turned towards the framed group photo on the shelf. They had disappeared without a trace years ago, right after one of their members returned from hiatus. No news. No updates. Nothing. The entire world moved on, but for those of us who had been waiting, the silence had never stopped echoing.

And yet, staring at Hongjoong now, at how still he sat—like he was remembering something beyond this life—I felt a quiet shiver run down my spine.

Because deep down, I never truly believed they were gone. Maybe… they were just somewhere we couldn’t find.

TAGLIST: @soso59love-blog . @yoongisgirl69 . @forever-atiny . @ateezswonderland . @fr34k4c1dr41n . @breadedloafs

[flamingpudding]

I'm so sorry I didn't get to finish but as Dan's Teekl is a Phoenix snake and he takes after Vlad since of dressing

When something big is going on the magical world and they need King Phantom's help he decides to bring along his children this is how the Justice League finds out just like Robin is a past dumb title so is Klarion all the Justice League deal with a bunch of hyper up chaotic children who have been antiheroes let's find out

I wanted this to be just like a we are robbing thing except with Clarion all of them showing off the fact that Teekl have never been a cat would be so funny to me

Anywho I haven't been able to come up with anymore ideas for Dan is Klarion but I did come out with this one hope you find it funny sorry that I messed up on the first part of the writing

Okay... so version one got deleted, per my rant post notices... so here is version two hopes to that it will still be as good... also... i didn't remember how I ended this the first time soooooo yea... sorry again for having messed up in between...

[Link to the first part of the Ask here!]

I hope this will still be as enjoyable....

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

Vlad didn't regret a lot of things but he regretted having told Bruce Wayne that he had a way of summoning the Ghost King. Why you ask? Because Bruce Wayne apparently leaked that information to the Justice League.

Well originally Vlad had told Bruce only about this because he was after the deal he had wanted for years with Wayne Enterprise. That man had been able to avoid Vlad for years now, and during his years when he hadn't been a redeemed man it had infuriated him.

But he was a redeemed man now. He had reformed his entire Company and since Wayne Enterprise was contracted with the Justice League, he had felt it was appropriate to boost that his Company had valuable connections too.

He also just wanted to rub it into Brucie Waynes face that he wasn't the only one with big name Hero / other worldly connections department. Okay it might have been a bit of an ego thing left. But he was a redeemed man.

And because he was a redeemed man he had not used his ghost powers to throw Batman out of the window the hero had used to barge into his hotel room at 3 -goddamn- AM only to demand the method on how to summon the ghost king.

No sir, Vlad was a redeemed man, he was nice now, a good guy.

He only grumbled and demanded the reason, which apparently was a demonic thread to the magical world that indirectly could wipe out the entire world itself. Great, little badger will not be amused hearing about that.

Daniel would be cross with him for using the summoning stone in the middle of the night but Batman was giving him a valid reason to use it. Surely Daniel would understand right? Plus Vlad could use that as change to see the little badger again. It had been a while since he last saw him.

Well Vlad regretted agreeing with Batman with the condition that he would be the one to do the summoning. That man in a bat suit did not hesitate to drag Vlad with him then bringing him, blindfolded mind you, to a place where he then was faced with several heroes, including but not limited to the Justice league.

Just great.

At least Vlad got to inform Danial about the situation and the reason for his summon as Ghost King via summoning stone, even if that blond British man had scoffed when he saw Vlad pulling it out, about the situation and what the little badger could expect the moment he stepped out of a portal.

What Vlad did not expect were several RED portals opening and similarly dressed young adults as well as one teen stepping out of them.

"Sup old man! Mom told us you called him about some world ending problem!" Dan greeted him in his Klarion get up, perfectly styled hair and his ghost pet, a phoenix snake, Snape (yes Dan named his pet after a mage from a wizard movie series) on his shoulders. Vlad could feel the distinctive illusion magic around the pet and he was pretty sure everyone without ghost powers were not able to see through it.

"KLARION?!" One of the present heroes yelled.

And of course all of the kids had to answer in reflect turning to where the voice came from at the same time.

"Yea"

There was a brief moment of silence in which Vlad face palmed.

"Ah sorry, that was on reflex. Old habits die hard!" Ellie laughed, she had grown into a young woman and was currently wearing what looked like a black suit crossed with a 90s style witch dress.

"I am the current Klarion, lose that fucking habit already." Dan grumbled annoyed as he crossed his arms glaring at every sibling that had answered to his alias.

"I am telling mom you cussed." Ellie instead grinned instead, before she looked around for a moment before her eyes landed on Nightwing, her face instantly lighting up. "ROBIN! I mean Nightwing! I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Do I know you?" Vlad could feel sorry for the hero, but these where the phantom kids, so he wasn't in the slightest and he was still cross with he heroes for waking him up at 3AM!

"I am hurt! Don't you recognise me!" Ellie gasped and Dan unashamedly elbowed her for acting so familiar.

"Misrule." He warned her. Ellies current Anti-Hero -Chaos Agent- Alias Vlad remembered. A name she specifically chose because it sounded like Miss Rule and she knew that the word play would annoy Nabu. That girl had some serious beef with the Ancient of Order.

"Oh shush little brother! Let me reconnect with the kids I used to mess with!" She shushed Dan ruffling his hair and nearly messing up his horned hairstyle, before turning back to Nightwing. "Don't you remember my lovely Armadillos? Though I only know you were the Robin I first meet because I looked into Grandpa Clock's time mirrors..."

There was a brief moment of silence on the other side where the heroes stood and Vlad swore he could have heard a pin needle drop.

"Oh god..." One of them finally spoke up as apparently some kind of realisation sunk into the heroes. But before Ellie could add anything more the one Vlad recognised as Red Robin cut in.

"Klarion is like Robin!"

"RR what are you...?"

"The title of Klarion got passed down like Robin!"

There was another brief moment of silence before Dan, Ellie and the rest of their siblings burst out laughing.

"It took you idiots this long to see that?!" Dan called them out, laughing as he hugged Snape.

Vlad would probably feel sorry for the entirety of the heroes before him if he wasn't amused by this himself, even he had seen the differences whenever 'Klarion' got passed on.

"For your information, I was the first Klarion, so i could mess with Nabu." Ellie grinned. "I was also the one that used a bit to much eyeliner."

"I never got the the horned hairstyle right."

"I was the one with a fancy black suit."

One by one the phantom kids listed of all the differences in their versions of Klarion until they all looked towards the youngest Dan, the current Klarion.

"What?" He grumbled as his elder siblings grinned at him.

"Fucking fine. I use a suit similar to the old man's style and I like to do more than just mess with Nabitch." He muttered after enduring his siblings stares for.

"And you cuss." Ellie grinned brightly causing the rest of the siblings to to chuckle.

Vlad recognised the look in Dan's eyes and before the kids could break out into an argument or a brawl, depending how violent Dan was feeling, he coughed loudly to get noticed by everyone.

"World threatening situation." He reminded everyone. "Where is your mother? The Ghost King?"

"Oh Mom is already dealing with the situation." Dan shrugged. "We more or less came to watch and see the heroes suck and fail at 'Order' to rub it into Nabitch's face."

Vlad really wanted to scowl the kids and he was going to but then the heroes cut in again.

"Can we get back to the thing about Klarion being a title passed down like Robin? With how many different Klarions did we have to deal with over the years!?"

"Red Robin not the right time..."

"Yes the right time! So many comments from Klarion make sense now! Like the first time he went right up into my face!"

"Red Robin!"

"Oh that was still me! The first Klarion!"

[blackdollette]

"heard that you like the bad girls." | spencer reid

video games. - lana del rey

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: when the black cat meets the golden retriever.

fill out the taglist form!

female!reader x spencer

word count: 1.2k

contents: opposites attract, spencer being a sweetheart, fluff, not proofread

it had to have been a cruel joke played by the universe when you and spencer were assigned to work on a job together.

your interactions with him had never gone past glancing at him as he passed by or blankly nodding at the factoids he spat at 100 words per minute. he was a self-proclaimed genius, equipped with intelligence that many could only aspire to obtain. so it didn’t make sense to you why it was always as if his IQ got slashed in half whenever he spoke to you.

spencer was a sophisticated individual, particular about everything from the way he carried himself to how each chestnut-brown strand of his hair was laid. while you were the polar opposite. you went with the wind, going wherever the night took you. your attire consisted of dark colours and you put minimal effort into making yourself look professional, though you suppressed your style just a little to help it meet the nonexistent workplace requirements. even with your lack of interactions, spencer could tell you had a bold personality. and he longs to search and explore every part of it.

the first step he took in getting to know you was offering to give you a ride to work. as usual, you were running late. he’d said that he’d be at your place by 7:30 and you watched the long arm of the clock tick to 7:29. you slipped on your dark brown sweater, letting it rest on top of your pleated black skirt. you hastily put on your dark tights, finishing off the look with your black doc martens. you looked at yourself in the mirror, making sure you didn’t look as crazy as you felt you were going.

as the clock hit 7:30 the doorbell chimed, perfectly on cue. you quickly grabbed your bag, dashing down the stairs until you reached the front door, seeing spencer through the lens of the peephole. you let out a soft breath, taking in the 6 feet of elegance that awaited you on the other side of the door. the bright morning sub made his hair appear to be made of one million pure gold threads, his eyes turning into soft pools of honey.

with a deep breath, you opened the door, greeting him with a warm smile. he met your eyes with warm eyes and the softest smile you’d ever seen. he stared at you, not saying anything for a good moment until you cleared your throat to catch his attention. he ran a hand through his hair, blinking himself out of his smitten daze.

he couldn’t get over how much he wanted to know about you. you were attractive in a frustratingly effortless way, like you just so happened to roll out of bed looking like a goddess. he had gotten lost in your gaze again, finally coming to his senses after another long minute. “g-good morning.” you laughed softly as he stammered. “morning, doc.” you teased, never having bothered using such formalities before.

he went to extend a hand toward you before thinking that he was moving too fast. “shall we? my car’s in your driveway.” you nodded, walking out the door and shutting it behind you, making sure to lock it as you and he strolled over to his car. he opened the door for you and you hopped in, slightly flattered by his chivalrous gesture. he got into the driver’s seat next to you, stealing a quick glance in your direction as you buckled up his seat belt. he’d never been able to take his eyes off of you, but the feeling got even more intense when you were this close, your scent filling his nostrils. he started up the car, pulling out of your driveway.

you yawned, rubbing your eyes as he began to drive down your street. he raised an eyebrow. “tired?” you nodded. he began to speak again, his eyes lighting up in the way that they usually did whenever he went off on irrelevant tangents. “for optimum health and function, the average adult requires around 7-9 hours of sleep to function properly during the day. but studies show that 60% of women fall short of that goal.”

you laughed a little, amazed by how quickly he could pull the facts out of his head. he pulled out of your street, driving in the opposite direction of the workplace. “how about we head down to that coffee place across from your house? i saw it when i was coming earlier.” and he absorbed knowledge like a sponge. you smiled. “yeah, that’d be great. thank you, spencer.”

you could’ve sworn you heard him squeal when you called him by his name. you pulled out your mirror, fixing up your hair as he pulled into the parking lot. “i’ll be back in a minute, okay?” he walked into the cafe before you could respond. and he hadn’t even taken your order. you were willing to bet a large sum of money that he’d draw an assumption on how you liked your coffee. you took it black, no cream and no sugar. but no guy had ever guessed that right.

you flipped through the radio channels, searching for something good to play. you assumed that you’d be waiting for him for a while. but he walked out of the shop before you could even settle on something to play. he hopped back into the car, holding two large coffees in his hand. your eyes were wide. “that was quick.” he nodded. “i ordered ahead of time. i had a feeling you wouldn’t be used to heading to work this early.”

you rolled your eyes, accepting the cup he held out to you with a smile on your face. you took a slow sip of the drink, eyes growing with surprise as you tasted the familiar, bitter mixture. he was watching you with a stupid little grin on his face. “no cream and no sugar, right?” your eyebrows inched up on your forehead. “how’d you know that?” he shrugged, putting the keys back into the ignition. “i see you everyday. it’d be a shame if i didn’t know how you took your coffee.”

you felt a sizzling sensation spreading in your cheeks. you turned away slightly, watching the atmosphere change as he drove away. the car fell silent, something you’d never expect from spencer. then he opened his mouth to speak again. “h-hey, i’ve been meaning to ask you something…” you tilted your head to the side, curious at what he had to say. he took a deep breath, trying not to sound as awkward as he knew he was. “all this work stuff is pretty hectic, like all the time. but you seem… i-i dunno. you always listen to what i have to say and never act like i bore you. s-so… i was wondering if you’d like to try out that new restaurant that opened after work…?” 

he regretted asking as soon as the word came out, but you were grinning from ear to ear as you heard him speak like a normal, nervous guy instead of the genius he was. “you asking me out on a date, spencer?” he swallowed hard, quickly looking over at you. “i guess you could put it that way…” you stayed quiet, watching as he squirmed in his seat. you found that you liked getting him all riled up. you lifted up in your seat a little and pecked him on the cheek, his face immediately flushing with crimson. “pick me up at 7:30. don’t be late.” 

you and him both laughed at the irony of that statement.

author's note: i need to rewatch criminal minds. i've completely forgotten everything about it

[startanewdream]

Jily, kinktober, praise kink, and a surprisingly mild nsfw fic.

Lily is laughing.

The sound is not new to James; when they were just friends, he'd make a fool of himself to earn that laugh, and now that they've started dating, the sound greets him guiltlessly. He loves when Lily laughs because of the way her eyes shine and her cheeks colour.

But she is not laughing because of him at the moment.

It’s not that he demands exclusivity; if she is happy, that’s all that matters, but... but the source of her happiness is wagging his tail as he runs back to her, proudly holding the tennis ball that Lily had thrown a good distance.

And Lily, who knows exactly the secrets of this black dog, just kneels when Padfoot reaches her.

"Who is a good boy?" She coes, rubbing his ears. The dog barks loud and Lily laughs, delighted. "Who is the best boy?"

She holds the dog's face; James sees her fingers threading through the dark fur, not very unlike how she run her hand through his hair last night as he went down on her--

Only he didn’t get called a good boy.

And all Sirius got her was a stupid tennis ball.

He scowls. The dog looks at him for a moment, with far more intelligence than any mongrel should have, and then lies on the ground, belly up, whining; suggestive. Maybe James should pout more, because this strategy clear works for the dog: Lily kneels, rubbing the dog's belly; Padfoot is drooling.

"Who is a good boy?" A bark. People around them are chuckling. "You are, yes, you are a good boy!"

The dog licks her face; James buries his nails on the palm of his hands to keep from hexing the dog.

"Oh, you are not a good boy now!" But Lily's voice is playful.

James decides he's had enough. "He just needs to be neutered," he notes dryly. The dog growls at him. "Go play fetch," he says, and throws the tennis ball far away. When the dog just stares at him, James adds challengingly, "A real good boy would catch it."

As he expected, Padfoot rises at this, and very dignifiedly, runs through the grounds. A few people stop to watch the dog.

"Stags are more impressive," he mumbles. If only he could transform now, everyone would see it...

Lily wraps her arm on his. "Maybe we could have a dog."

"I am more of a cat person."

"Since when?"

Since seeing you with a dog made me insanely jealous. "Cats aren’t good boys."

"Oh." She turns to him now, with a smirk sprouting on her pink lips, and James almost wishes she couldn’t see through him so easily. "No one ever accused James Potter of being a good boy."

Her finger traces his arm, leaving goosebumps on its path.

"There’s always a first time for everything," he whispers, taking a step closer.

Lily's hand now circle James' neck befire she holds it softly. "A good boy would wear a collar."

"I would look dashing with a collar."

"A good boy would obey every order."

"Hmmm. I could be a good boy."

"You never saw an order you didn’t want to break, James."

"Maybe I just need some positive reinforcement, Lily."

"Hmmm," she sighs back. "I could offer enough praise. Add some treats." She throws a quick glance around. "Do you really want that ball back?"

"The dog can keep it."

"Good." She offers her hand. "Let’s go see how much of a good boy you are."

He is pretty sure he might howl if she asks.

[yearningaces]

Hrrmmmmnnn

Been thinking about how different monsters might express affection and care, different important traits. How swans greet their partners with the intricate head swinging, how cats groom each other, how horses follow the one they trust the most to guide them, how humans hold hands, do you see what I mean?

But monsters

What about Driders that will use the silk of their webbing to craft intricate tapestries or blankets for their dearest companion. Taking days meticulously plucking at every thread to perfection

How about Giants who are so much bigger than their dear one and can carry them in their palm with the ease of carrying a few grapes. But one day they sit down and methodically add breast pockets to every shirt or jacket so their dearest one can be right next to their heart at all times

There's also werebear that focus so much on the act of sharing their plate of food and it's such a bold declaration of care and love for the one they share with, especially if they pick what they will take off of their plate and offer it to their loved one without said person even asking

I'm also partial to Multiheaded creatures like hydras or Cerberuses who express care with each head memorizing something their favorite person finds interesting because with so many different heads with different personalities it leads to conflict of interest so to them, memorizing what someone else likes is important because they'd want each individual head to be remembered individually as well

And I've already mentioned it before but selkies focus so much on warmth. They brave warmth and to offer it to their dearest one is such an expression of affection, as well as saying someone makes them warm, or being told they make someone warm, it is so vital

I will keep saying it, I adore odd expressions of affection that mean huge things depending on species

[elodieunderglass]

look i know you were saying that everyone’s guesses for Bee were better than your outline but when we do meet Bee i said out loud, waking up my cat, “oh of COURSE!!! how could she be anything else!!!” and i haven’t read any pullman but that’s what i imagine settling feels like

(In reference to the dungeon meshi fic where some little asshole has finally been compelled by the plot to disclose his soul, and we are all pointing and laughing)

This is the best possible response, thank you so much! May a lesson we all take home from the story be the challenge of greeting our own souls home like a welcomed child.

Also not to be real on main but when I met all 3 of my newborn children I did NOT feel “love” or blissfully fall in love with them instantly or anything. I had thought you would feel this; it’s how everyone describes it; I did not. Instead I thought “of course! It was you all along! How could you be anyone else!” And went about my business in a bewildered but dutiful way. I do love the kids, but it wasn’t like all the other writers made it sound. It wasn’t like roses and sparkles and blissful golden love and - big rush or that kind of thing. It was nodding and going, “oh right! We were expecting you, but didn’t know when. Come home then - it’ll take about three weeks for you to tell us your name - we’ll find something to feed you.” And that is love, in its way. Welcome home little soul. Of course it was you. We were already holding your place, and waiting for you. You may not be what we were expecting because you are a person who is a stranger here too.

Which is also how I felt when I met dr glass actually too. He was just so three-dimensional. Oh no. It’s you.

Love then, and reward then, to me has always been recognition.

So this is meant to be a Healing Thread and I am so, so glad it was your reaction too. It is only a silly piece of work but it is me telling you what love means to me.

[thoughtportal]

From the moment Palestinian-Canadian singer-songwriter Nemahsis stepped on stage at Chicago’s Ramova Theater last fall, she had the crowd locked in. Her movements were understated and free, her presence magnetic — graceful twirls one moment, piercing eye contact the next. Performing as part of a benefit concert for Gaza, she kept it simple, just her in a signature hoodie and hat, a microphone, and the stage.

Before diving into “Chemical Mark,” the final track from her 2024 debut album, Nemahsis told the audience about a study she’d seen on intergenerational trauma in mice — how it took seven generations to erase the impact of what their ancestors endured. “Seven generations,” she repeated, letting it sink in. It felt like a thread tying her music to something bigger, a reflection of pain passed down, resilience carried forward. 

A few months later, I’m on a Zoom call with the singer, a.k.a. 31-year-old Nemah Hasan, the Canadian daughter of Palestinian immigrants. She’s sitting in her family’s home in Toronto, the faint sounds of cats meowing in the background as she greets me from the other side of the screen. Dressed in a grey hoodie and green sweatpants, she exudes an authenticity that mirrors the rawness of her music.

Nemahsis hopes her music won’t resonate in quite the same way in the future. “I hope that when people hear about me, they’re like, ‘There’s nothing controversial about that,’” she tells me. “It means that we’ve normalized and humanized Palestinians. Then I’ve done my job.” Her music isn’t just about telling a story — it’s about rewriting history, breaking cycles, and ending the need for these stories to be told over and over again.

Her latest single, “Stick of Gum,” was recently listed as one of the top songs of 2024 by Spotify editors, garnering more than 4 million streams. Nemahsis sees this song as a “protest”: “We use pretty delivery, pretty people, pretty sounds, pretty songs to deliver educational material.” The song itself is deeply personal, emerging after, Nemahsis says, she was dropped by her former label for refusing to “cool down” her activism for Palestine. 

“Stick of Gum” combines moody alt-pop production with Nemahsis’ anthemic yet haunting vocals, culminating in a chanted section that speaks unflinching devotion, where love and sacrifice collide — transforming something as fragile as a stick of gum into the explosive force of unyielding commitment. “Are you capable to reciprocate?/No matter how high or heavy the take/A stick of gum, or dynamite/You could plead guilty and I will do the time.”

The accompanying music video, directed by Aram Sabbah, was filmed in Jericho — her ancestral home — and features her entire family. As she wrote on Instagram, “‘Stick of Gum’ is a love song. So rightfully, what more can I care for than where I come from and who I come from?”

Nemahsis self-released her debut album, Verbathim, in September 2024. The album has received widespread acclaim from critics and artists including Lorde (who shared Nemahsis’ cover of her track “Team”) and Stevie Wonder (who once called a venue, not long before she was due onstage, to ask them to stall because he was still en route). 

Nemahsis’ approach to visual storytelling is just as striking as her music. The cover of Verbathim features her wearing a white headband beneath a black hijab, similar to a nun, while someone holds her tongue. This powerful imagery, she has explained, is meant as a commentary on censorship. “Verbathim is just the word ‘verbatim’ except someone is grabbing my tongue,” she wrote on social media. “The holding of my tongue symbolizes the censorship I’ve faced trying to speak my truth. I’m dressed like a nun to show that the world doesn’t have a problem with modesty, but rather a problem with hijab.”

For Nemahsis, music and visuals are inseparable. “I don’t get inspired by reading words. I like to look at pictures and videos because I don’t see images in my mind — I only hear monologues and scripts,” she explains. “So, I look at things and feed off the audio in my head.”

When asked what she wants people to know about her, Nemahsis doesn’t hesitate: “I know what I want to say.” Despite all the success, Nemahsis remains grounded in the realities of her independent journey.  “I don’t go into a lot of sessions. I don’t have a studio at home, I don’t play an instrument, I don’t have a mic, a laptop, or anything,” she says. “I just have my phone, my voice memos, my notes app, and my notebook. As an independent artist, I don’t have the opportunity to go to studios often because it costs a lot of money. So, I created an album with just 20 actual sessions and 12 songs. Imagine what I could do if I had the resources and studio time of a label.”

The songwriting process for Nemahsis is just as deliberate. “I won’t write for months or even a year,” she says. “But when I do, I write a lot — 10 days, two weeks. It’s not that I can’t write all year, it’s that I can’t afford to.” The struggle is real, but so is the passion behind her work. “I bottle everything up until I can afford to record,” she confides. “Lyrics come first, then melody. I believe the melody is within the lyrics.”

With each note she writes, each word she sings, Nemahsis is crafting a narrative that calls for change, not just in the world of music, but in the world at large. And with each song, each performance, she’s pushing further, further away from the cycles of trauma she hopes will one day be nothing but history.

[peachesyeo]

Player 1117 ── ATEEZ OT8 0001 ─ into the game

THIS SERIES IS MATURE! MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!

⊹ 2k words ⊹ gamecharacters!ateez x fem!reader (ft. txt) ᭡ fantasy au, dark romance au, obsessive/yandere elements.

✧ a/n: i know you guys don't read my author's note so have fun. /: thank you @sousydive for beta reading.

✦ network: @newworldnet

⊂ warnings: -

:̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? :̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞? :̗̀➛ 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? (for all works)

This cannot be true.

You stared at the young girl in the mirror before you. She seemed no more than twelve years old, her raven hair cascades in soft waves around her shoulders, framing her face like a midnight veil. Her eyes are pools of dark brown, with mesmerizing purple swirls dancing within her pupils. 

Her skin is fair and smooth, like porcelain, with a delicate rosy hue on her cheeks that speaks of youth and vitality. Her features were exactly of the Y/n in Utopia - a small button nose, full rosy lips and high cheekbones. She wears a silky sleeping gown, one that looks exactly the same as the one you are wearing right now. 

You raised your hand to touch your face, and so did her. 

You have read many novels about transmigrating - but novels are fiction. And this is real.

“I’m… in the game?” You whispered, your shaking fingers reaching to touch the mirror. But the cool touch on the tips of your fingers told you that this is not a dream, that everything is real. You looked around, the room you were in is spacious, with high ceilings adorned with intricately carved moldings and delicate crystal chandeliers. Sunlight streams through tall windows draped in dark amethyst curtains, glowing down on you.

The walls, floors and pillars were made of the finest marble, covered with sumptuous silk tapestries of flowers. You walked towards the nearest wall, running your fingers along the fine threads that form the images that seem to come alive in the flickering light of the candles and fireplace. 

In the center of the chamber sits a four-poster bed, its canopy draped in sheer silk curtains. The bed is covered in luxurious lavender silk sheets, embroidered with the finest silver thread. You walked over to them, taking a seat. They were soft and light, like you were sitting on a cotton cloud. You stared outside of the window, trying to digest the fact that you are in the game. 

But who are you?

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. You watched as a maid entered, bowing to you. “Greetings to the Star of Eternity. The Moon and Eclipse have requested your audience.” 

You nearly let out a squeak; the maid had answered your question. As two young boys walked in, you were even more certain of it.

You are now Choi Y/n, Star of Eternity, Princess of the Eternity Kingdom.

"Y/n!" The shorter one ran towards you, lifting you up in his arms as though you weighed nothing. "How is our little Star feeling today?"

"Beomgyu! Y/n's twelve, stop carrying her like that!" The taller one chided, as Beomgyu rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out at his older brother in response. You wrapped your arms around his neck for support, staring up at your third brother's face.

Choi Beomgyu, the Eclipse of Eternity. He is the third Prince, known for his gift of creating illusions. Utopia did not have much of Y/n's backstory, but you knew that Beomgyu was the only person spared under Wooyoung's sword, and took over Eternity as the new King.

The Beomgyu holding you has long black hair that falls into his shoulders. He pressed a kiss onto your temple, rubbing his cheek against yours like a cat. "My little Star, so precious." He cooed, ignoring the exasperated sighs of your other brother across the room. "What would I do without you?"

You looked over to your other brother for help. He put his hand on his forehead tiredly. "Let Y/n down, Gyu. Please."

"You're all work and no fun, Soobin hyung." Beomgyu pouted unhappily, placing you gently back on the bed. "Is our little Star excited to meet her new friend?"

Choi Soobin, Moon of Eternity, the second Prince born with the gift of manipulating water. He would later become the War General of Eternity, dying to San in a battle.

Soobin shared the same raven hair as the both of you, his fringe falling in front of his eyes. He seemed to have had enough of Beomgyu, sighing loudly and flexing his right arm before casually delivering a loud smack on the back of Beomgyu's head. Ignoring Beomgyu's over-dramatic whines, Soobin approached you, kneeling on one knee to be at the same eye level as you. Taking your hand into his, Soobin had a simple dimpled smile on his face.

"Y/n-ah, remember when Mother mentioned that we have guests over? They are very important people, so remember to behave yourself, okay?"

You tilted your head in confusion. "How important are they, Brother?"

Beomgyu stopped whining and exchanged a look with Soobin. The other lifted his thumb and index, slowly pulling them apart. "It’s this important, Y/n-ah."

"The point is," Beomgyu interjected, earning a disapproving look from Soobin. "They will be arriving before dinner. Yeonjun hyung had already gone to welcome them along with Mother, so we have an afternoon for you to get ready, Y/n." He grinned, one that made you nervous for no reason. "Our little Star must be pretty too."

You glanced at Soobin. The older man nodded, wearing a satisfied expression on his face as though Beomgyu finally made sense. "I got you many dresses to try on, Y/n-ah. Shall we go?" He smiled, offering his hand to you.

You were bathed by the maids before they dressed you into a lavender dress with puffed sleeves and the hem fell gracefully to your knees. Beomgyu picked a purple silk ribbon, tying it to your hair while Soobin knelt on one knee, fitting a pair of white shoes with amethyst crystals onto your feet. When you were done, Beomgyu gushed in delight, showering you with compliments after compliments.

"Our Gem, our little Star," Beomgyu cooed as your face heated up at the praises. "Looking so pretty... I mean, you are always pretty, my Star, but right now, with my magnificent sense of fashion-"

"Our Star!" A loud voice boomed, sending everyone in the room jumping. A tall, blonde hair male barged in, his eyes lighting up the moment it landed on you. You hear Beomgyu mutter a curse under his breath while Soobin puts his hand on his chest. "Yeonjun hyung, at least announce that you're here!"

Yeonjun ignored him, making a beeline towards you and dismissing the maids in the process. "Our Star, so bright and... Why is she so purple?" His face scrunched up at the sight of the little purple crystals adorning your hair, which Beomgyu had 'generously' clipped onto your hair. "Take it off, take it off. The ribbon is purple enough; Y/n doesn't have to be a grape for the Kims to see."

Choi Yeonjun, Sun of Eternity, heir to the throne. He is the oldest out of the four of you, with an ability to soothe feelings. Your face fell slightly, remembering how Yeonjun had died when you played Utopia as the heroine. He was stabbed by...

Who was it?

"You don't know fashion at all, hyung." Beomgyu grumbled, cutting you off your thoughts. Soobin and Beomgyu had been quarreling over the hairclips, and you did not want to pick a side. Yeonjun removed all the crystals in your hair, leaving only the ribbon. "There, our Star shines bright enough like this."

"Thank you, Brothers." You smiled sweetly and the three cooed in response. Beomgyu had his hand dramatically held over his heart, Soobin covered his blushing face with his gloved hands and Yeonjun proudly grinning. "Wait until Mother and Father see you, little Star. Now, shall we run along?"

You took Yeonjun’s hand and allowed him to guide you to the banquet hall with Beomgyu and Soobin trailing behind you two like bodyguards. You could hear the activity in the hall from outside, and you gripped Yeonjun’s hand nervously.

"Announcing the arrival of the Sun, Moon, Eclipse, and Star of Eternity!" The voices of the guards boomed. Yeonjun squeezed your hand as the doors opened, revealing a quiet banquet hall. You could feel many eyes staring at you, but you remained composed, walking alongside Yeonjun to the King and Queen of Eternity. The nobles you walked past bowed respectfully, and when you finally reached the throne, Yeonjun let go of your hand.

"Greetings to Your Majesties," Yeonjun said, bowing to both the King and Queen of Eternity. You curtseyed, while Beomgyu and Soobin bowed behind you. “May peace be ever in your grace.” The King, your Father, nodded. “You may rise.” The King of Eternity is never shown in Utopia, but you knew that like Soobin, he died under San’s sword. You scanned the man on the throne. He seemed to be in his forties, with the same platinum blond hair as Yeonjun and a kind-looking face. 

You didn’t miss the subtle wink the raven-haired woman beside him gave you. Sending a sweet smile towards your Mother, the Queen of Eternity, you turned your attention to the two other presence in the banquet hall. 

Yeonjun turned towards them. “Greetings to the Queen of Mist, and Prince Hongjoong. May peace be ever in your grace.”

You froze slightly at the name, but quickly recovered when Yeonjun gently tickled your side, telling you to bow. When you straightened back up again, your eyes met a pair of golden slits. Kim Hongjoong gave you a soft smile, but you quickly looked away, your heart pounding.

Kim Hongjoong, the Prince of Mist. The one who the original Y/n had fallen in love with, and lost both her life and her kingdom to. When you played as Jiwon, Hongjoong seemed to be a normal, sweet Prince who was loyal and polite to her even if she was a commoner. However, when you played as Y/n, he was evil, nasty and horrifying. 

The Queen of Mist inclined her head slightly. “Greetings to the Sun, Moon, Eclipse and Star of Eternity. May peace be ever in your grace.” She turned to look at Hongjoong, who too bowed, echoing the greetings. When he was done, you grabbed onto Yeonjun’s sleeve, hiding your face in it. 

“Seems like the Star is a little shy, Mira.” Mira is your mother’s maiden name. Yeonjun patted your hair consolingly as your mother laughed. “Oh, Ayang. She'll recognize you soon, you even carried her as a baby.” 

The Queen of Mist and your mother seemed to know each other, seeing that they were addressing each other by a first-name basis. You peeked out from behind Yeonjun, avoiding Hongjoong’s gaze as you looked towards the Queen of Mist. She chuckled at your cute reaction, beckoning you. “Come here, little Star, let Auntie have a good look at you.”

“It’s not fair!” Beomgyu burst out dramatically. “You always favored Y/n, Auntie Ayang!” 

You blinked, confused at the turns of events. What is happening? Didn’t Beomgyu and Soobin say that they are important guests? And why is your Mother now walking towards the Queen of Mist, holding her hand as she speaks?

“Here.” Yeonjun pushed you out from his side gently. “Go say hi.” You carefully took a few steps forwards, still refusing to look at Hongjoong as you grip your dress tightly. “Y-your Majesty…”

“It’s Auntie Ayang for you, my little Y/n.” The woman bent down slightly while your Mother stood next to her, smiling. “I am your Mother’s best friend, little Star. This is a family event, we can be casual with each other.”

Your heart thumped loudly at this piece of information. So Y/n and Hongjoong had already known each other before Y/n went to the Kingdom of Mist for… For what?

Why.. Why can’t you remember?

“Now, shall the dinner start?” Your Father’s voice pulled you out of reality. You blinked rapidly, and quickly followed Yeonjun as everyone settled down on one table. Unfortunately for you, Hongjoong took the seat next to you. 

“Hello, Y/n. I’m Hongjoong.” Hongjoong introduced himself in a small, shy voice, his golden, snake-like eyes upon you. “I hope we’ll be good friends with each other.”

You stared at him, your brows furrowing unconsciously. Then you blurted out, “I don’t want to.”

“Don’t want to do what, Y/n?” Yeonjun didn’t catch the whole conversation and had fetched a napkin for you. You frowned at Hongjoong, your lips forming into an adorable pout. 

“I don’t want to be friends with Kim Hongjoong.”

previous // next

➳ series taglist: @tenebrisirae @mayonnaise-on-toast @lavishloving @hrts4hanniehae @sousydive @ddaeing @huachengsbestie01 @icouldntcareless22 @anxiousskylar @devilzliaison @saintriots

➳ pernament taglist (ateez): @watermelon2319 @levishun

➳ pernament taglist: @sousydive @yeodeulz @oddracha @jaerisdiction @yukichan67 @evidive @onysmamas

[animelovelover123]

yandere Virgil with a fairy/goddess who healed him after a big fight. On the brink of death

MY Guardian Angel

Pairings: Vergil & Reboot Vergil x Reader

Synopsis: I wasn’t sure which Vergil you wanted, so I did both. Also, I wanted to do both, lol.

Trigger Warnings: kidnapping, imprisonment, mutilation, forced motherhood, choking

Vergil

Vergil wanted to say he remembered your first meeting, remembered falling for you, but he did not. His memory of fighting Mundus was already hazy. He could not with 100% certainty declare what swing, stab, pain, blood, or flash in his mind was real. Even the brilliant flash of light that swept him away from the losing battle, he could not remember its timing, source, feel, or existence. That did not matter, though, not at the moment. He would rest, train, and recover his strength before properly battling Mundus. What was important, no matter how clear his memories were, was what came after, was you. It was the sound of your panicked yet gentle voice, the feeling of your hands and magic working to ease and heal his injuries, the sight of your wings fluttering and bending in ways that gave away your feelings like a dogs tail, and the way his heart called out for another in a way he has not felt since the fire beyond the tree.

Vergil’s fortunes since have been remarkably good, perhaps retribution for that night. You had escaped with him to Fortuna through one of the several Hell Gates on the island, a place Vergil had once visited and knew of the weak, cult-like mentality of the humans there. With the people of Fortuna treating Sparda like a god, Vergil easily became their monarch and new god once he proved that he was their Saviour’s heir. Vergil never had a desire for this kind of power, to control the actions and hearts of a bunch of sheep that were helpless without their lord’s orders. They did have their uses, though.

“My Lord,” Greeted the captain of the Holy Knight, who, after knocking and requesting permission to enter, knelt in the doorway of Vergil’s study in Fortuna Castle, the very one Sparda lived in for a time. “The knight I sent has returned with proof that the target has been located and eliminated discreetly.”

“Understood.” Vergil acknowledged, though he did not turn away from the window at which he stood. “Not a word of this shall be spoken again by anyone.” Vergil declared, his voice, as usual, dull and cold, masking his relief that the loose thread was dealt with.

“Yes, My Lord.” The captain stood and saluted Vergil's back. “For the Saviour and his glorious son, I thank you.” He left, closing the door gently behind him so as not to disturb the one in the study with Vergil.

There was a pause, a quiet moment where Vergil breathed slowly, absorbing the information he was given and what it meant, the freedom it offered. When he finally spoke, his voice was imperceptibly softer and kinder.

“Is it not wonderful, my little warrior?” Vergil turned from the window to gaze down into the antique bassinet where a little infant boy lay gazing up at his father quizzically. “That woman may have served her purpose for the time and given me a glorious gift, but she quickly became an obstacle,” Vergil said as he reached out to stroke the infant’s soft cheek. The baby boy, still too young to have full control of his body, flailed his limbs in response and growled happily, hinting at the latent demon power buried within him, power that Vergil would help him use once he was older. For now, though, Vergil had something more important to do. “Now, let us go see your mother.”

Vergil lifted the little one out of the bassinet and held him to his chest. As they walked through the castle halls, passing guards and maids who bowed before him, Vergil’s expression remained stoic while he subtly used his demonic powers to trigger his chest and rumble it like a purring cat to soothe his son, which worked as always. Once reaching his destination, Vergil walked in and cracked a small smile as he saw you. It didn’t matter that you were on your knees in chains after another of your violent outbreaks, the doors and windows of your opulent yet dishevelled room having magical barriers keeping you in, and the remains of your wings batting weakly after being clipped.

“My dearest fairy,” Vergil greeted as he approached you, unperturbed by whatever your reaction was. “I have a wondrous gift for you, a new role to fill your life when I am not here to hold you. You are now the mother of my son. We are truly a family now.”

『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』

I will be honest, I love writing creepy stuff sometimes, and I tried to do that here. I was trying to have this kind of uncomfortable mix of sweet and disturbing, going back and forth between the two.

Reboot Vergil

[Note: I highly suggest you play or watch Vergil’s Downfall before reading this because 1. this will spoil you and 2. you will be very confused if you don’t.]

When Vergil first saw you, he thought you might be his mother, as he could hear her voice, or the statue of the angel beside his family grave that he had collapsed onto in his dying moments. Instead, you explained to him that you were a goddess of sorts, there to help him. At first, Vergil didn’t trust you. He was in hell after all, dead, or so he was told, and had just suffered a painful betrayal by his only living family left. No matter how gentle your voice, how genuine your care seemed, or how ethereal your beauty, Vergil could not trust you. He couldn’t trust anyone.

That didn’t stop him from craving you, though, your presence. You made him feel sane, felt like he was worth something, and wasn’t hated. You were leading him through this dark world and towards the light, the tether that was trying too hard to keep hold of him, despite these dark apparitions of Kat, Dante, and even himself attacking him with scathing insults and accusations. Even as he killed each vision, each remnant of his heart holding him back, you stayed with him, tried to convince him that things would be better, that he was better. And you were right…

“I brought you into this world, gave you love. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” His mother asked, pleaded. Not that it mattered to him. “Where’s your heart?” She asked as tears began to trickle down her pale cheeks. Crocodile tears for all Vergil was concerned.

“I no longer have one mother.”

This moment was the beginning of a new life for him, one of power and control. He would no longer be held back by liars and those who would abandon him. He turned away from his weeping and pleading mother, giving her one last goodbye before going to the desert plain. There he could see it, his heart and the last of its light being snuffed out. There you were looking up at your failure, at how the light you had been trying to grow disappeared. And there was his double, the one that showed him the path to the truth and to real power. Now he stood in the way, though, a thief who had something that belonged to him. So he struck him down, just like all the others, and took from him all the power he could.

Now it was just the two of you. You can cry, scream, argue, tell him again what you hoped to do, no matter what you do, he will not waver.

“I know what it is I must do now, what I need to do,” Vergil said as he stalked closer to you, towering over your kneeling form, the dark aura around his white body creating a shadow over you. “I don’t need a heart, love, trust, those are the illusions, the lies told and abandoned.” Vergil bent down and leaned over you, crowding you, forcing you to lie down on the sand below. “The only thing that matters is power. I need more power.” His hands, now ice cold, wrap around your neck and start to squeeze, pressure being added gradually with no hesitation or stopping, no matter how you struggle. “The power to take what is rightfully mine.”

Your consciousness was fading fast, and in a desperate fight for life, your body acted on instinct and sent Vergil back. Not simply away from you, but back into his body in the real world. This only angered Vergil, giving him a rush of power that he intended to use against the approaching army of demons. When those creatures instead bowed down to him, his path became clear once more. He has gained power and will continue to gain more as he hunts down and takes out those who betrayed him. It also gives him time to set up a suitable cage for you. Your escape has just delayed the inevitable.

『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』

I realized while writing the last paragraph that if you haven’t played/watched Vergil’s Downfall (DLC for DmC: Devil May Cry), then you would have no fucking clue what is going on in this story, lol. Sorry about that.

Anyway, I was really trying to lean into the who broken-mind of Vergil during Vergil's Downfall, and it kind of made the writing messing purposely. Not sure if that adds to the story or just makes it hard to read though ^^;

[cressidagrey]

Something good and right and real - Chapter 10

Summary:

Azriel had spent centuries believing that he of all people didn't deserve a mate. And if anything, the last three years had just galvinised that particular belief. And then he meets her.

The first time Oriana met Azriel, she thought that he reminded her of a skittish cat. Shy and a little bit broken. Good for him that she absolutely excelled in fixing the things around her.

Warnings:

Rhys Bashing, Discussion of Mental Illness

Notes:

I put a lot of world building into this. If you don't recognise it from canon, I probably invented. Or I forgot that canon existed.

(thanks to @firefly-graphics for the super pretty dividers!)

“Anything else I need to be aware of?”  Rhys asked after their weekly meeting at the River House. 

It was Azriel and Rhys and Cassian, a reminder of time long past. Cassian shook his head. 

Which was Azriel’s opening.

“I need a break,” Azriel declared. 

Azriel telling Cassian and Rhys that he had thought of quitting his job and taking up Herbalism as a hobby probably would have resulted in fewer shocked faces. 

He didn’t care. 

The Lakehouse was coming along and he had plans, damnit. And for that, he needed a break. A few days off. Hopefully a week. 

“A break?” Rhys asked, sounding like he had never heard the word. 

“Yes. Cassian and Nesta took a week in the Illyrian steppes a few months ago. I want a break,” Azriel repeated evenly.

“You want a break,” Cassian repeated. “Did something happen?” his brother asked, sounding worried and Azriel just stared at him. 

After the whole Eris Vanserra fiasco from a few weeks ago, Cassian had mostly kept his mouth shut over whatever he thought was going on in Azriel’s romantic life. And Azriel was quite thankful for that. 

“No,” he answered with a shake of his head. “I just need a break.”

“I have known you for 500 years and not once have you told us you need a break ,” Cassian said drily.

“Well, I do ,” Azriel responded sharply.  There had been often when he had needed a break and just kept on working because nobody thought about even offering him one and he wasn’t about to ask for it. But now he was asking, because he needed it and he wasn’t going to let anybody tell him that he couldn’t have it. 

If he hadn’t had a break outside of near-fatal injuries over the last 500 years, he probably earned one, right? 

(Suddenly Azriel realised that he should never mention that to a very specific person, because she would have thoughts about that.)

“I need a break,” he gentled his voice but he still stared down Rhys who just leaned back in his chair, mustering him. 

“So you need a break, Az,” Rhys said, a thread of amusement running through his voice. “When are you thinking of taking said break?” he asked.  

He thought about it for just a second.

“Next week,” Azriel blurted out. Next week. He could do it next week. It was as good a time as any. And the longer he waited, the more nervous he was going to be and…

“As long as no new war breaks out, you can have next week. For your break ,” Rhys said with some amusement. “Do you want the cabin?”

He appreciated the offer but the answer was a resounding no. 

“No, thank you.” He had plans. 

The High Lady, his shadows hissed. 

“Feyre Darling,” Rhys said in greeting as Feyre entered the room, draping herself over her mate’s lap.

“Am I interrupting anything?” She asked, making herself comfortable. He couldn’t help but watch, couldn’t help but yearn to have this for himself…

“Just Az telling us how he needs a break,” Rhysand said with a snort. “I think he’s getting soft,” he teased. 

“A break?” Feyre repeated curiously. “You deserve that,” she said earnestly. “Maybe go somewhere warm!” She suggested. 

“I already know where’ll be,” he promised, and then quickly changed the topic before anybody could suggest that he should go to Day Court and have Lucien and Elain host him. “Feyre, I was wondering…where did you get your table linens from?” He asked and Feyre just stared at him.

“The table linens?” She repeated like she wanted to make sure that she had understood his words correctly. 

“Yes. Table Linens. I need some.” 

“You need table linens?” Cassian repeated, sounding utterly aghast. 

“There’s this small shop at the rainbow called Clare’s. They have loads of different ones. Unless you mean the ones for huge celebrations then it’s in the Palace of Threads and Jewels,” Feyre answered, eyebrows furrowed.

“Thank you,” he thanked her easily. 

“Planning on throwing some dinner parties?” Rhys asked drily but Azriel just ignored that.

No, he just needed some table linens. 

“I need to go. I have some table linens to buy,” he said instead

Ask Oriana if she wants lunch in an hour or so, he requested from his shadows. 

And now he was going to buy table linens for their house and maybe when he was already at it, whatever other textiles they needed. Like bedding or curtains…or effing tea towels. 

He had hundreds of years of pay banked because he never even had seen the need to spend it on anything. And now he did. 

He left Clare’s laden with a couple of bags and was surprised to find Cassian leaning against a building wall a few feet away from him, staring at him like he had sprouted horns. 

“Did Rhys put you up to it?” he asked, the tone of his voice icy and Cassian just stared at him.  

“What, no! Why should he do that?” Cassian asked him, sounding incredulous.  

Why did Rhys do anything?

“You tell me,” Azriel gave back. “If it’s not Rhys, then what are you doing here? I doubt you wanted to watch me shop for table linens.”

“You actually bought table linens?” Cassian asked him sounding incredulous. 

“Yes, of course, I bought some. Why do you think I asked Feyre to tell me where to go?” he gave back and then sighed.  “Cassian, do you actually care about that or did you think that me going to find table linens meant that I was going off to find the secret lover you are currently convinced I have for some cauldron-forsaken reasons?”

All the good mood he had had after spending far more money than what was reasonable on a white tablecloth, edged in delicate lace, was gone. 

“For cauldron’s sake Azriel, I am worried about you!” Cassian snapped and Azriel just stared at him. 

“Why?”

“Why?” Cassian parroted. “You don’t talk to me, or anybody, you don’t say anything, you disappear from family dinners and now you suddenly want a break! What’s going on?” Cassian demanded. 

Oh. 

He stayed quiet for a moment. 

It would be fair to tell Cassian. But if he told Cassian, everybody else would know. 

“What’s going on, Az? Come on, you know you can talk to me,” his brother badgered him.

He didn’t want to lie to him. But he also didn’t want to say the truth, because then fear had his heart in an ice-cold grip. 

“I know,” Azriel said quietly.”But right now, I was really just buying table linens.”

Cassian stared at him.

“I am not letting this go,” his brother warned him. A thin smile appeared on Azriel’s face. 

“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” he promised. 

He didn’t. 

Still, he was pretty sure that Cassian was going to be the first one who realised that something was going on with Azriel. And now it was just a question of time until he figured out what.

Cassian wasn’t stupid. Azriel would even argue that in matters of the heart, Cassian was the most intelligent of them all.

He finally managed to get rid of him only with the promise of a sparring match the next morning…and the fact that he had a very important lunch to get to.

He was quite sure that Cassian was now going to think that he was going to frequent one of the pleasure halls in the city, even when that still left a bad taste in his mouth.

It was ridiculous because it had nothing to do with the males or females that worked there and everything to do with…that one sentence that had been uttered to him.

Everything has to do with that. 

But there was no pleasure hall in his future because Oriana was waiting for him.

Oriana with her scent of a warm autumn hearth, though today it had oranges added to it.

“New perfume?” he wondered quietly as he snuck up at her in her forge, only daring to do that because she was reading something at her workbench and she leaned into him, book forgotten. 

(If he did it while she was working on something his ears would be ringing with a lecture.)

“Actually yes. Got a new one,” she answered with a grin. “Smells good?” 

He inhaled deeply. It did. But then everything smelled good as long as it was together with Oriana’s scent of warmth and fire, as far as he was concerned. 

“Yes,” he answered, pressing a kiss to her cheek before he hooked his chin over her shoulder, his hands settling on her hips. 

As long as he could just stay right there…everything was alright in his life.

“I have next week off work,” he said softly, cataloguing every single one of her reactions. If she was hesitant or pulled back or wasn’t ready then he wasn’t going to push this. He could wait. 

He had waited 500 years for her. He could wait even longer. 

But all that happened was Oriana laying away the book she had been paging through and then turning in his arms. 

She leant up and pressed a lingering kiss right to the corner of his mouth. 

“Yes?” she asked, her voice soft. “Does that mean we…” she didn’t end the sentence, because he couldn’t help himself. 

Azriel couldn’t help himself and instead pulled her into another kiss, this one everything but gentle and lingering. 

He didn’t want to…he wanted her to be his. In every damn way Azriel could get away with, he wanted Oriana to be his. To be with him. 

He wanted to kiss her and touch and learn every noise that she made if he did something that she liked. 

Just like now. 

He kissed her, his mouth pressing against hers and he licked deep into her mouth, her whole body seemingly melting against his, her scent growing heavier and filled with desire as he took everything he could, as he plundered her mouth like she kept the riches of the continent there, a hand still curled possessively around her hip, another across her back. 

He let off her as she gasped for breath only to continent to kiss down her neck, all the skin now easily accessible for him. 

Since she had taken off that fucking necklace, he couldn’t help but stare at her throat, free and delicate…and so he kissed down her neck and then across her throat, just letting a ghost of his teeth rasp against her skin. 

The shudder that Oriana gave, the gasp that left her mouth as he touched her…he wanted to bottle it up. 

But then he realised that he didn’t need to. He would get to have all of it. Every single one as soon as they finally were alone at the Lakehouse and had a whole week of doing nothing but…

“Yes,” he finally managed to get out hoarsely. “We can do that.”

Her eyes were glittering with flames as she looked at him, her lips kiss swollen and she pulled him towards her, pressing another kiss against his lips. 

“We will.” It was a heady promise in these words. 

More than that even. 

A vow. 

“But before we do that…” she trailed off and he groaned, pulling back. He could already imagine what this was about. 

“Sorry, but we’re having dinner with Cyrus and Briony this evening,” she told him, sounding not apologetically in the slightest. 

“You are cruel,” he told her drily. His blood had cooled, his desire banked, and Oriana just snorted. 

“We had an agreement,” she sing-songed. 

They did. 

And if that agreement meant that he needed to make nice with her family that evening, then so be it. 

He had already met Cyrus after all. 

And while Oriana’s brother still mustered him with a mixture of ill-concealed interest and hesitance, his wife, Briony, a high fae with dark brown hair and matching eyes, greeted him with a smile. 

And then he really wasn’t interesting anymore, because three children came barreling down the hallway, Oriana’s youngest nieces and nephew, Sienna, Finley and Rory. 

“Auntie Ori!” 

“If you ever call me that, I’ll kill you,” Oriana hissed at him, dumping her casserole dish in his arms, before she went down to her knees to envelope Finley and Rory into a bear hug.

Somehow the idea of Oriana, with her perfect dresses and pinned-up hair being reduced to Auntie Ori, who sat on the floor with the kids and played with them…somehow that was the most charming version of her he had yet gotten to meet. 

Even better than her with soot all over her after a long time in the forge. 

“Let’s leave them to it, we’ll get them back by the time we serve dinner,” Cyrus said drily. 

He opened his mouth to respond, but the oldest, Sienna, beat him to it. 

“Auntie Ori, who is that?” she asked, staring at him with the same black eyes that Oriana had if they weren’t in flames. 

“That’s Azriel,” Oriana anwered. “He’s my mate.”

“He has wings,” Finley tried to whisper and failed so badly at that that Azriel bit back a smile at it. 

Still, both of her nieces stared at him with some mixture of awe and… something that he couldn’t quite place. 

He was also pretty sure that the assuring smile he tried to put on his face looked more like a grimace than anything else. 

And then Rory, the youngest, just two, came toddling over, tugged at his trouser legs and held up his arms in the universal sign of wanting to be picked up. “Up!” he piped up demandingly.

Right. 

Oriana bit back a smile, silently laughing at him and he just glared at her, before he picked up the little boy. 

He had lifted Nyx plenty of times after all. This couldn’t be that much different. Especially as Rory didn’t have any wings he needed to be careful with. 

Rory happily settled in his arms, sticking his thumb in his mouth and that was that then. 

“Are you going to marry him?” Sienna asked pointedly and Oriana had Finley on her hip, brushing her niece’s hair out of her eyes as she let them into the dining room. 

“He’s my mate. That’s just as good as being my husband,” she answered that question, sidestepping something that he knew was a …sore point of sorts for her. 

He highly doubted that there ever would be a time in her life when she would be ready and willing to get married again. Not after how her first marriage had ended. 

But to be honest…that was fine for Azriel If he got her as his mate…that was all he needed. Maybe one day in the future, he would like her to wear some piece of jewellery that made it obvious that she was his…but she wore his shadows like a bracelet every day. So really, that was all the visible sign of their relationship that he needed. 

Just like now, they were curled over her wrist, tugged between a myriad of bracelets that she wore every day, every single one holding another enchantment, her life’s work and family ties there for everybody who bothered to take a closer look. 

And his shadows were right there between that. 

“Can he talk?” Finley asked at that moment, still mustering him like he was a very interesting puzzle and he bit back a grin at that question. 

“I can,” he promised her, and she squeaked in response, brown skin reddening.

Cyrus seemed struggling to hold back the laughter at the whole interaction a he took Rory from him and settled him at the table. 

“Can you fly?” Finley blurted out next. So it was going to be that kind of evening. 

“I can,” he told her. “I learned that from when I was very young.”

“Is it scary?” Sienna asked him. “Can you fly really high?” 

And like that, it continued. 

Clearly, the most interesting thing about him was his wings. And because he belonged to Auntie Ori, he wasn’t that scary.

The Spymaster of the Night Court was humbled quite quickly by three younglings. 

It was startling as much as it was nice. 

***

She quite liked seeing Azriel with her family. 

He seemed utterly terrified that the kids were going to be terrified of him and somehow that made the whole thing even better. 

Still after an initial hesitation from the older two, they warmed up pretty quickly to him. Though Enya was definitely their aunt because their obsession with Azriel’s wings was as adorable and at least as strong as their aunt’s. 

Still, as adorable as him meeting her family was…the more heartbreaking was meeting his. 

They went to Rosehall on what Azriel had been reassured by Eira, a shadow-wraith that kept his mother company, was a good day. 

Azriel pulled her through his shadows that day. One day she had been in her apartment, by now pretty much empty, because Azriel’s week was starting the next day…and the next she stumbled into the Illyrian steppes, her stomach turning and forcing herself to take a deep breath. 

Azriel caught her weight easily and and let her lean against his chest as she caught her breath.

“Are you alright?” he asked her, concern obvious but she waved him off. 

That had been disconcerting. 

She had thought learning how to winnow was disconcerting, which she had only done by the time she was 150 years old and had a very good grasp on her power levels…but this…

For a moment it had felt like darkness was going to swallow her whole. 

The only thing that had stopped her from screaming in terror had been the fact that she had known that the Darkness was Azriel’s. And she trusted him. 

Still. 

“I thought flying was bad the first time, but this is worse,” she breathed, his shadows worriedly swirling around their feet. 

“Need a moment?” he asked and she nodded, breathing in deeply. No more darkness. The sun was shining.

Another breath, then another. 

She finally managed to step back from him, even when he kept hold of her hand and she finally managed to take in their surroundings. 

There stood a charming little cottage on a hill. If she had thought that the Lakehouse seemed like it belonged in a fairytale, well, then this little cottage belonged in a folk tale. Complete with wreathed iron gates that Azriel pulled her through. She felt the moment the wards he had magically placed around the cottage welcomed her in and made the mental note to make a warding net for this house as well. 

It was Azriel’s mother. Important to him, somebody that he doted on and if that made his life even just a little bit better…then Oriana wanted to do everything in her power to make this easier for him. 

They walked down the path, and in the blink of an eye, a faerie stood in front of them. Oriana felt her heart in her throat as she blinked at the wraith in front of her. 

Shadow wraith the look after, just so passing middle age. 

“Eira,” Azriel greeted her and she smiled at him, her form turning more corporal. He could see that. Half-wraith, Oriana corrected her initial assumption. “How is she?”

“It’s a good day, just like I said,” Eira responded, smiling at him before she turned dark eyes onto Oriana. “Who did you bring with you?”

“Eira, Oriana, my mate,” Azriel responded. “Eira lives here with my mother,” he explained. “She helps take care of her.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Oriana said quietly, offering her hand. The older female took it with a smile.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Eira responded. “We don’t have many visitors up here,” she explained. “Has Azriel warned you?” she asked him and Oriana’s eyebrows rose.

“Warned me?” she echoed. 

“About Esmerya,” Eira clarified. “She’s…We don’t know how she is going to react to you,” Eira explained. “There aren’t many new people she has met. The last one has been me, to be honest,” Eira admitted. “She very rarely gets violent, but it has happened,” Eira said quietly. “It’s more like her to shut down completely. In both cases, leaving would be your best bet,” Eira explained. 

Oriana swallowed. 

Azriel had told her that his mother’s mind was fractured, but she hadn’t really thought much about it unless it was to wonder how much utter misery her mate had lived through. 

“If she does, I am there. I am not going to let her hurt you,” Azriel said quietly. 

And then he would spend days if not months feeling horrible for hurting his mother to protect her. 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t get that bad,” Oriana said.  

“It’s going to be fine,” Azriel muttered, but Oriana wondered who he was telling that to. It probably wasn’t her. 

Eira turned to enter the house and Azriel let go of her hand as they stepped through the front door. It was small but welcoming. 

“Welcome to Rosehall,” Eira said quietly. 

Oriana stood still next to the wraith as she watched Azriel cross the room. 

Suddenly he looked younger than she had ever seen him as he joined a female Illyrian who was sitting at the window, spinning. 

There was no question that she was his mother. Even from feet away, Orian could see the same dark hair, the same proud nose. Hers was streaking with wide and Oriana took in the crippled wings that hung down her back. 

She couldn’t help but swallow, feeling nauseous. She had seen Azriel’s wings when they folded out to their massive size and she had heard of the Illyiran’s custom of “clipping” their female's wings but she had never…

She had never seen the result of it. 

“Ma? It’s me, Azriel,” Azriel said quietly, kneeling on the stone floor at his mother’s side. 

His head turned to him. No word was said. 

Oriana watched as a gnarled hand reached out for Azriel, cupping his cheek. 

“It’s me, Ma,” he assured her as she traced over his face, seemingly taking it all in. “Are you feeling alright?”

“It breaks your heart, every damn time,” Eira said softly and Oriana concentrated on the other female because she was quite sure otherwise she would have started crying. “He loves her so much and she…she loves him, I am sure she does, but she’s so far gone that…I don’t think she even knows who he is half the time,” Eira said softly. Oriana stole another glance at Azriel and his mother, at his soft talking to her, his tone of voice even. 

She didn’t react to anything he said. 

“What does she do most of the time?” Oriana asked quietly. 

“She tends to her garden…she spins… sometimes she cooks,” Eira recounts. “It’s a nice life here…there is a village not far away from here, but we learnt quickly that she is the happiest if she just stays here. So I go down to the village to get anything we need…I keep her company, but I have no idea how much she actually understands what is going on around her,” Eira said with a shake of her head. 

“It’s horrible. All we can do is make her comfortable and keep her a prisoner in this house and her garden because putting her anywhere else is just…she’s just terrified. He feels horrible about it, even when it’s all anybody could do and more than most sons would do,” Eira continued. “He tried to find somebody that could help her, but…I think her mind is so fractured that it’s impossible.”

It was horrible. For Esmerya, even when maybe she didn’t even realise what was going on…Oriana half hoped she didn’t. Maybe she was able to be content, even with a mind that was fractured into a million shards. And for Azriel to try to keep her safe and comfortable and content and like that kept her a prisoner here in Rosehall, because what else was he supposed to do? 

“You know, sometimes…If she cooks, all she makes is Illyrian flatbreads,” Eira said with a soft laugh. “She made a whole stack of them when I told her that he was coming.”

So maybe something…something was still there. 

“Ma, there is somebody I want you to meet. Is that alright?” Azriel said at that moment and Oriana waited for Esmeray to say something. 

She didn’t. 

“Oriana?” Azriel called softly. She took that as her cue to slowly cross the room, to step next to Azriel, who was still kneeling on the floor and hunker down next to him. 

“Ma, I would like you to meet Oriana. My Mate.”

Oriana wasn’t quite sure what to expect. 

Azriel’s mother mustered her for a moment. Azriel had her eyes. The same hazel, speckled with green and gold. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Esmeray,” she offered quietly, not offering her hand because Azrie had waited until his mother reached out to touch him. 

Dark eyes still stared at her. Oriana held her gaze, unflinching. 

And then suddenly, his mother stood up from her chair and hobbled away. 

Oh. 

“That went well,” Azriel said, exhaling deeply. 

Oriana took his word for that.

She wasn’t quite sure what else she was supposed to say. 

“He’s right,” Eira said quietly, having watched the whole scene from the doorframe. “It did go well. She’ll be in the kitchen cooking. If you want to…” she trailed off. 

“Your choice,” Azriel said softly. “I know that she can be…disconcerting.”

That wasn’t the word Oriana would have chosen. 

She gained her feet, brushing folds from the light blue dress she wore and made her way to the kitchen, making sure to make noise while she did that. Azriel followed along, taking a seat at a small table underneath a window overlooking the garden. 

It was a beautiful work of art, that garden, filled with the Roses that gave Rosehall its name. 

Still, Oriana stayed standing up, watching Azriel’s other in the kitchen making…what she was quite sure was Illyrian Flatbreads. 

“I grew up in the mountains,” she said, most of her attention on Esmeray as she leaned against the counter next to her. She was making dough, flour and milk and butter and salt. “We have something similar there. Though we tend to wrap it around sticks and bake it over the fire,” Oriana recounted. “My mother is Tartera. My father was a High Fae of the autumn court.”

The last thing she had expected was for one bony hand to wrap around her wrist as she said the last words. 

She could feel more than hear Azriel moving. She pushed against the bond that was curling itself in her chest. 

Stop. Give her a moment. 

She didn’t try to get out of Azriel’s mother’s hold. She just held her breath. 

It wasn’t a painful grasp. Not even when Esmeray tugged at her wrist until she followed along. 

She let her go, divided the dough into two and put one in front of Oriana. 

“You want me to knead the dough?” she asked, not getting an answer. 

For lack of a better idea, she copied the movements of the older female. 

Clearly, it was what she had wanted. 

So Oriana continued talking. “I have 5 siblings, 3 brothers and 2 sisters. I am the youngest. I used to work as an enchantress. Nowadays I am mostly a goldsmith…”

And on and one she went as the dough went together and was placed in the oven, Oriana concentrated on the tightly banked fire underneath and let it flare up just slightly…as she pulled it out, not even bothering with gloves because it wouldn’t do anything to her anyway. 

They sat at that crickety old table and ate Illyrian flatbreads that were dunked in something with the consistency of a thick stew. 

“I met your son at the market one day. The mating bond snapped in place for both of us immediately,” she said as she cleaned her plate. “I want you to know that I love Azriel.”

She couldn’t help his mother, couldn’t help her with regaining her sense of being or the pain that she must have gone through for this to be the result…but she could…at least do this. 

Her mouth wrapped around the words that she had heard hundreds of times. 

“I’ll love him in this life and beyond. I will not try to change him in any way. I will respect him and his beliefs, his people and his ways as much as I’ll respect myself,” she vowed. “I’ll protect him to the best of my abilities. His fights are my own, his enemies are mine. I’ll lay down my life to protect his. And I’ll cherish him every day.” 

Esmeray made no appearance of even having heard Oriana. 

But Azriel had. Azriel wrapped her hand in his under the table, so tightly that it hurt. Azriel’s side of the bond bloomed with love, bright and warm. 

Azriel said nothing, but his adoration and love poured all over her. 

They stayed a little longer before finally they bid their goodbyes. 

Azriel’s face betrayed his surprise when his mother followed them to the door. “You’ll see us off?” He asked. 

She didn’t react but still followed along. 

They stepped outside the door, and Oriana watched her breathe in the early summer air…watched her smile as she touched one of the roses. For one moment it seemed like she came alive. 

She turned back around and held one of the Roses that grew along the house between her fingers. 

She held it out to Oriana. 

Bright Blue. Beautiful.

“Oh. Thank you,” Oriana said hesitantly as she took the flower. 

For a moment Esmerey smiled at her. Then she turned and walked back inside the house, humming off-key. 

Azriel stared at the flower in her hand, holding out his hand for her to take. 

She took it. 

It was no less disconcerting the second time, even when they resurfaced in the living room of the Lakehouse. 

Azriel held her up, pressed against his chest. 

“She has never given anybody one of her roses, you know? Not even me,” Azriel said with some amusement colouring his voice. “Who knows what is going on in her mind, but she likes you.”

She had no idea what to do with that. 

She felt the shudder running through Azriel and pulled back to find him staring at her, his hazel eyes seemingly so very green in the light of the setting sun falling through the window. 

“Did you mean what you said?” he asked her quietly. 

“What?” Oriana asked. What did he mean?  

“You said you love me,” Azriel said quietly. 

Her expression softened.  “Of course, I love you. You really think I would agree to mate with you if I didn’t?”

But as she saw his face,e she realised that he did. 

She wondered how often she would need to repeat these words until he believed them. 

“I love you,” she said once again. 

He stepped back and she let her hands fall because this…this hurt. Her fingers tightened over the rose as she carefully laid it on a side table as Azriel disappeared into the kitchen. 

She… she shouldn’t have said it. Cauldron only knew what Azriel was…

The sound of something banging something in the kitchen made her brows furrow and Azriel came back into view, a ceramic bowl with him. 

He crossed the room with quick steps like he was on a mission for something and then…

He dropped to his knees before her. 

“Azriel. What are you doing?” she breathed. What was this…

He put down the bowl between them, filled with blueberries that she had bought at the market.

“Be nice, please,” he muttered under his breath. 

Suddenly she had an idea what this was about. 

Her people offered jewellery. When her sister had been proposing marriage to Toron, she had offered him a ring. 

But Azriel wasn’t Tartera. 

Azriel was an Illyrian, even if he hated most of their violent traditions. 

And like that…like that, he offered her the knife that always was kept in a sheath on his thigh. 

He had other knives. More daggers than she could count. There were at least 3 always within easy reach for them. And he had kept one stashed away under his pillow whenever he had stayed the night. 

He had bought her knives. 

But he had never, never, not once…not once offered this knife to her. 

And now he held it out to her, on two flat hands. 

“You are blood of my blood, bone of my bone.” These were ancient words. She could hear that in every single syllable. “I give you my body, that we might be one. I give you my spirit, until our life is done.”

She could feel the bond flaring to life between them, that lovely golden thing that tied him to her and her to him. 

She was sure that there was a traditional answer to these traditional words. 

But she didn’t know it. 

So instead, she reached for the knife with her right hand, wrapping her fingers around the obsidian hilt, and for the bowl of blueberries with the other. 

She picked one up. 

Lifted it to his mouth. 

“I love you. I protect you. I cherish you.”

[coracaodeleao]

MelJayVik headcanons - Mel-centric because it's the best way (pt.2)

(part 1)

– Jayce wants to adopt a dog. Viktor feeds the stray cats with her.

Jayce dreams of the life they could build — the home, the morning coffee, the dog running around their feet. A dog they picked together, raised together.

One he can cradle in his arm while wrapping the other around her. Something loyal, playful, loud with affection.

Something that greets them both at the door and curls up at their feet.

Something that, like them, belongs to no one else. "It's our baby", he would say for those who ask.

Viktor’s idea of companionship is quieter. He brings the bowls; she brings the food. They find a quiet corner where the city forgets to look, and they wait. The cats arrive on their own time — cautious, elegant, fleeting. One, then another, then more.

He doesn’t try to touch them at first. Just observes, listens to the soft crunch of food, the delicate way she crouches beside them. Eventually, one lets him stroke its head. A purr in return.

It’s not about ownership — it’s about presence. About returning, consistently, without asking too much. Just like them.

He points to two cats touching heads.

“Look,” he says softly. “It’s us.”

– If they like her appearance, Jayce says it first, then shows it. Viktor shows it first, then says it.

Jayce sees her across the hall and doesn’t hesitate.

“You look breathtaking,” he whispers as they pass each other, voice low, smile sharp. He doesn’t slow down — he knows she heard it. She gives him that look over her shoulder, the one that makes his whole chest feel full. He replays it all day like a favorite song.

The next time he sees her, it’s worse — or better. He can’t help himself.

“You are so beautiful,” he says, cupping her face with both hands like it’s the only thing that matters. And then he kisses her — the kind of kiss that tells her exactly how long he’s been wanting to.

Viktor doesn’t announce things. He doesn’t need to.

When he sees her, he pauses mid-step. His cane hovers slightly above the floor, balance off, breath caught in his throat. He clears it, louder than necessary, trying to collect himself — and then walks toward her.

His hand reaches out, slow and reverent, brushing her arm before resting at her shoulder. The touch is featherlight, but grounding.

Their eyes stay locked — a silent thread pulled tight between them.

“Hi there,” he says finally, voice a little steadier. Then, softer, “This is… great. You look great.”

And somehow, the simplicity of it — the honesty — settles deeper than any poetry ever could.

– Jayce picks her up. Viktor draws her into his lap.

With her back turned to him, Jayce sneaks up, arms already ready. He lifts her off the ground like she weighs nothing — just to hear her gasp, just to spin her and make her laugh. She kicks her feet and scolds him half-heartedly, but she always holds onto him tighter.

Then he shifts, one arm behind her knees, the other around her back, pulling her against his chest like he’s carrying something precious. And when the laughter fades into soft breath, he kisses her forehead — grounding, grateful, still holding on.

Viktor doesn’t sweep. He doesn’t spin. He simply looks at her, reaches for her hand, and gives it a small tug. That’s all it takes. She steps closer, straddling his lap, fitting into the space between his body and the world.

He adjusts her weight with quiet care, one hand on her back, the other on her waist. The metal of his brace presses against her thigh, but she never minds. He kisses the underside of her chin — a promise, a signal — and then everything else follows, slow and sure.

– Jayce presses her down. Viktor holds her by the neck.

Jayce pushes her chest into the mattress, a firm hand on the small of her back. His other hand digs into her hips, keeping her right where he wants her — where she wants to be.

The golden markings along her spine shimmer with sweat, catching the light every time he thrusts back into her. It drives him wild. His grip leaves a new mark, one that blooms like a secret only he knows.

Viktor’s hand finds her throat — soft, precise, controlling. His thumb brushes her pulse as he tightens just enough to make her gasp. Her eyes flutter back, lips parted, breath caught.

With his other hand working deep inside her, he times her release with each inhale he allows. She breathes only him. He feels only her.

– Jayce matches her. Viktor makes her wear something of his.

When they have to dress up — for galas, councils, fundraisers — Jayce, as one of the top guests like her, always reflects her style. He mirrors her choices: the color, the texture, the sharpness of the tailoring.

Sometimes it's subtle — a golden cufflink to match her earrings, a lapel that echoes the curve of her neckline. Even when they arrive separately, they look like a matched set. Like they planned it. Like they belong.

Viktor doesn’t attend these events, not even when invited. But she always goes — it’s part of who she is. Still, he watches her get ready, offering the occasional pragmatic opinion. A tilt of the head, a hum of approval, a suggestion only when necessary.

And right before she steps out of sight, he hands her something of his — a pocket watch, a pin, a piece of fabric tucked carefully somewhere only she knows.

So even in his absence, his presence lingers. Subtle, constant. She carries him with her — not for others to see, but for herself to feel.

– Jayce reminds her of who she is. Viktor reminds her of who she was.

Jayce sees her as powerful, capable — a leader. He speaks to her ambition, to her goals. When she doubts herself, he reminds her of what she’s built, how far she’s come. He talks about the future like it’s already hers.

Viktor sees the girl beneath the gold. The one who used to dream before she strategized. When he touches her, it’s not to honor her position — it’s to meet the person who hides behind it. He brings back memories she forgot she carried.