#THIS WAS A LOT OF FUN TO WRITE

[lozeyart]

I've been thinking of Usagi-san's perspective, especially during the early stages of his relationship with Misaki.

Anyway, I wrote from Usagi-san's point of view when he first kissed Misaki after finding out about Takahiro's engagement.

If you'd prefer to read this on archive of our own, here's the link!

(I took the dialogue from the official English translation of the manga and I tried to keep it as canon as possible. Sprinkled in some Easter Eggs for readers of the later novels)

Enjoy! (I did edit this a bit and added a tiiiiny bit more! If you read it already and wanna give it a reread, go ahead!)

---------

Takahiro was engaged. He wanted me to be the first to meet her. How wonderful, how absolutely, wonderfully cruel. Takahiro wasn’t cruel, he didn’t have a hateful bone in his body, no, never him. But I could just imagine how the universe was laughing at me now. Look at this man, how long he’s loved his best friend, how painful it’s already been! Let’s pull the final trigger, shoot him in the heart, and then watch him as he forces himself to be happy for him. That’s how I thought of it, anyway.

But before I could even register how horribly my heart had shattered, Misaki had grabbed my hand and was pulling me out of the apartment, down the street, away from all of this.

And there he was, crying his eyes out, like a pathetic brat. 

But he was crying for me. He even apologized. 

I knew he was crying for me even before I asked. Why else would he have pulled me out of Takahiro’s apartment with such a stupid lie as needing more alcohol? We had bought plenty for Takahiro’s birthday, because I knew how much he would drink. Because I knew Takahiro like the back of my hand. 

But Takahiro didn’t know me. Not really, not like I wanted him to. I knew I was showing Takahiro the more idealized version of myself, the version that I wanted him to fall in love with. But of course, he never did. As much as I loved Takahiro, and as much as he meant to me, he could never be mine. Takahiro was always honest with me, but I’ve never been honest with him in the same way. He didn’t see the bad side of me, the rotten, broken side of me. I never let him, how could I? Despite how close I was with Takahiro, I was always on edge. There was a certain stress that came with being around him. Always in the back of my mind I thought, “What if he finds out?” so I hid all of it, lived in a suspended state of absolute misery, all for Takahiro… And the worst part? I could never blame him for it. 

But Misaki saw that side, that horrible, messy side of me. I was myself around Misaki, and he was the same with me, I realized. I was comfortable around him in a way that I never was with Takahiro. From the moment I met Misaki, I was my true self. I didn’t care how Takahiro’s little brother saw me. He wasn’t Takahiro, after all, not even close. 

Not even close. 

I had thought Misaki was an idiot, especially after going over his homework and tutoring him. But now… He wasn’t stupid, not entirely. He wasn’t good at school, but he wasn’t stupid. He was loud, impulsive, annoying, naive, caring, perceptive, attentive. He cooked me dinner after seeing the state of my fridge, he made me fresh lunches every Monday to last me the week, he cleaned my condo for me, took me shopping with him so that I had proper food in my home. Misaki worked tirelessly at anything, even if he wasn’t good at it, just to prove that he could do it. Without even realizing it, Misaki had wormed his way into my life. He saw all of me, and instead of running, he shoved his way past me, stamped his foot and stubbornly refused to leave, demanding to take up space. And I let him. 

And here he was, crying and shouting in the middle of the street for my broken heart. How pathetic, how heartbreakingly beautiful. To be seen like this. To be known like this. 

“This is the first time in my life I ever felt like punching him!” Misaki sobbed into his arm, and I couldn’t help but smile. I exhaled through my nose. 

“Your weeping is revolting.” I told him, testing him, trying to confirm what I already knew. “Look at you. Your face is a mess.”

“I’m crying for you!” Misaki sobbed loudly, “You big jerk!” 

I smiled despite myself.

“And o-o-once I s-s-s-start crying, I can’t stop! Even if I want to!” 

“Is that so?” I murmured, my voice a quiet calm compared to his hysterical crying. And despite my broken heart, despite it all, I thought, oh, he’s the one… 

And so I kissed him. I kissed him because he was there, because he knew who I truly was, because I wanted to, because I was selfish. And there was this little voice inside my head, telling me that I shouldn’t betray loving Takahiro like this, especially with his little brother. How could I? After all these years? I had loved Takahiro for so long… And what would Misaki do? Would he push me away, scream at me, run and tell Takahiro everything? 

But Misaki surprised me instead. He clung to me with one hand, kissed me back, and I could feel how much he was trembling in my arms as I held him to me, and oh. Oh. How I’ve wanted this, didn’t even realize how badly I’ve been wanting this for god knows how long. His mouth against mine, his warm body, the taste of him as my tongue licked its way past his swollen lips. 

Six months I had been craving this man in my arms and I didn’t even know it. I did know it, but I refused to acknowledge it. I wanted to bite his lip, run my fingers through his hair, do things to him that required a bed and a lot less clothing. 

I could hold him here forever, I thought. Blissfully kissing this young man, tasting him, living in my own little world where it was just him and me, kissing in the snow. But I didn’t want to push my luck, and my overwhelming and conflicting emotions were threatening to swallow me whole as it was already.

I broke the kiss, Misaki’s tongue chasing after mine, and I smiled knowing that he had enjoyed the kiss just as much as I did. He was no longer crying, though his face was so red and his eyes so wide with shock that I couldn’t help but chuckle at the ridiculous look on his face. 

“Hah! You stopped.” I teased him quietly, his burning face in my hands. But my laughter was short lived. I was so tired, so unbelievably tired. I fell into him a little, my forehead resting on his shoulder. Our height difference was a bit awkward as I stooped to lean against him, but I didn’t care, I needed this more than I cared to admit. “Sorry. Just let me stay like this for a bit...” 

There was a brief silence, one where Misaki’s trembling hands clenched and unclenched my coat before his arms finally circled around me and clutched at my back. My heart pounded in my chest when he did so. I prayed he didn’t hear it. 

“U- Usagi-san?” His voice was a low, nervous whisper, “You can cry… If you want to.”

I huffed a laugh, “Don’t be stupid. You’re far too young to be talking to me that way, you brat.” I scolded him weakly, but there was no heat behind my words. I held him close to me, the warmth of his body my anchor to this whole, stupid thing. 

“I’ll only say this once, so listen up. Except for the moment of my birth, I’ve never cried in front of anyone.” I said, smiling softly as I spoke. “But I guess you’re an exception.” And there I felt them, the tears I’d been holding back, threatening to choke me. I buried my face into his shoulder, “I’d never let anyone else see me looking so pathetic, except for you.” 

It was my turn to cling to him. It was his turn to hold me. Look at me, twenty eight years old and crying on the shoulder of a boy I had only known for six months. 

I found that I didn’t care. Because for the first time in years, I felt safe to do so. Misaki wouldn’t judge me for this moment of weakness. He rested his hand on my head, tentatively, nervously, before slowly stroking my hair. I was trembling, I knew I was, but Misaki didn’t say another word, even when he started to cry again. He just held me, pulled me closer to him, and my heart ached at the tenderness that he treated me with. He cared about me in ways I’m sure he’d never admit to himself, but I saw through it all. Misaki was honest to a fault. If he didn’t feel the same way about me, he wouldn’t have brought me out here, wouldn’t be holding me like this. He wouldn’t have kissed me back. 

Could I actually have this? Have him? Could I be happy, finally, after all these years? I wanted Misaki. He was here, with me, holding me to him as I cried on his shoulder. He hadn’t even grabbed a jacket when he pulled me outside, and now it was snowing all around us. How stupid of him.

How stupid of me. 

I loved him.

[whoop-dedoo]

twilight zone - a sonadow fic

welcome back to your daily dose of sonadow!

we finally have part 2 to “we can’t be friends” (a fic I made a year ago lol)

you can find it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64294510/chapters/165037825

despite everyone’s efforts, it seems sonic and shadow can’t stay away from each other for long.

[wondrouswendy]

The Chance Taken Fandom: World of Warcraft Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn, Faerin Lothar & Anduin Wrynn Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, World of Warcraft: The War Within, References to Mists of Pandaria, References to Battle for Azeroth, Explicit Sexual Content, Romance, Angst, Humor, Drama, Friendship, Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Mutual Pining, Requited Unrequited Love, Miscommunication, headcanons, A long overdue conversation between two idiots in love Series: Part 3 of The Black Prince and the White Pawn Summary: After too close of a call, Anduin Wrynn reflects on his tumultuous life and decides to write a letter to his old, estranged friend Wrathion. He expects to hear no answer, for the long overdue letter will arrive too late, falling upon uninterested ears. As such, he is unprepared to deal with the consequences when a long dark shadow descends over the Earthen city of Dornogal.

Read on Ao3 here!

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

The Question

For @bellygunnr. I asked him for a prompt, he delivered, and it devolved into this. This questions can destroy friend groups so tread carefully. Here's 1700 words of Roland making Miller's life hard ft guest appearances by some of our Fireteam Crimson.

-

Miller was enjoying a cup of coffee in one of the messes when Roland popped up. Key word: was.

Fresh coffee too, barely scorched to the bottom of the carafe, with liquid (!) not powder creamer. And then Roland had to come ruin his morning.

"Spartan Miller, Fancy meeting you here!" Roland says with a flourish of his avatar. He's grinning like he's already pulled one over on Miller. His mood and coffee sour instantly and he swallows with a grimace.

Miller takes a full second to debate how to respond. He opts to save himself the trouble and cut through the mind games. "Morning, Roland."

The words are drawled over the rim of the mug, his one shield between them, as Miller leans on the counter and waits. He's punished for his patience as Roland smiles at him. He doesn't like the smile.

"I heard something that certain crew members were talking about-" Oh no. "-something of a philosophical debate, and I wanted your opinion on it."

"Uh huh..." He takes his time. Roland's grin does not falter. Miller doesn't like that. If he's not so impatient to hurry him along then he's already decided on the outcome. He's just here to fuck with him and it is too early for that. "This isn't another body part conversation, is it?"

"Spartan, I would not be so gauche as to ask about that at breakfast."

Miller sighs and shifts his footing. "Then what?"

"Do you consider milk a snack?"

What?

"What?"

"I want to know your thoughts. I've been privy to some heated debates around the snack status of milk. Some even went as far to say it could be a meal, in certain situations."

"What?!" Miller's voice goes up and he grumbles. Pinching the bridge of his nose. "Are you hanging around marines? This is the kind of stuff that marines argue about."

"There were some others involved. Some people with more credentials weighed in and lines were drawn." Roland is eerily somber as he delivers that line, but it's gone in a flash as he perks up to say, "That's why I want to hear your thoughts!"

"Is milk a snack?" He echoes. This was not where he thought the line of questioning would go.

"Could it be considered one?"

He's vaguely aware of his face doing something. He's mad at himself that his arms are crossed and he's invested so quickly. Who was arguing this? Milk's a drink. Who is spending their free time arguing about this? And the more important question; What does Roland want? What does he get out of this?

Miller eats his five food groups plus the extra ones they made up for the IVs. Milk is not a snack, it's a drink. Right? Roland knows this. He has to know this. The care and feeding of humans probably came with his instruction manual of the ship. Miller's heard him remind people to eat and drink when he's feeling particularly snippy and points out bad habits to (try to) win arguments. Roland's just messing with him. Unless that's what he wants Miller to think so then Miller would say it's a snack and then Roland would call him an idiot for thinking that. There's no safe answer here, but the best option Miller has is to say that no, of course not. Milk isn't a snack, and it's illogical to consider otherwise.

"You've been quiet for a bit, didn't know this was such a tough question."

He feels his eye twitch, but he doesn't rise to the bait. Miller sniffs, it’s a loud and abrupt noise, and puts his mug in the dish return. "Milk's not a snack, Roland." He says with the deep calm of the utmost paranoid.

Roland raises his chin and tilts his head to the side, looking at Miller with a face full of polite indifference. It's almost funny seeing him try to look down his nose at him from a holotank a meter off the ground. "Oh really?"

Cold sweat collects on the back of his neck. Miller had not avoided the mind games.

"Why not?" Roland mirrors him, arms crossed head tilting back to eye him.

"It's not!" He blusters and then remembers himself. "You asked what I thought and I told you."

"Yeah, but why?" Roland turns his hand to check his nails. "I heard some pretty compelling arguments."

Miller's eye twitches again. The door to the mess opens and shuts without him bothering to look at who's entered.

"From who?!"

"People."

"’Snack’ means food. Milk is not a food, it's a drink."

"It's a thick drink. Could be a snack in a pinch."

"What are you even saying?"

"Milk snack."

"It's too early for this. Are other drinks snacks?"

"I don't know, are they?"

"Are you mad at me? Did I do something recently? To deserve this?"

"Hey now, are you mad at me? You're looking upset there, Spartan. Heart rate is up too."

"Roland! You-! You're the one seeking me out to ask me if milk is a snack!"

"Do you draw the line at milkshakes? Oh, or maybe an egg cream?"

"You're making that last one up."

"I am not! It’s a real thing, look it up."

"Anyway, you're trying to distract me. Milk is not a snack."

"Well, that's your opinion. What do you think, Captain Lasky?" Roland smirks, barely dragging his avatar's eyes from Miller's as awareness hits him like a grenade. 

There’s a second before the captain responds, enough time for Miller to glance over and take in Lasky in his front row seat to the Roland and Miller show. The Captain. Of the whole ship. Sitting there watching Miller’s sanity erode in real time.

"Oh, I'm good. You two have fun." Captain Lasky smiles at them and raises his own mug of coffee as he goes back to his datapad.

"Sir." Miller nods robotically. The cold sweat is back. So is the unpleasant flush of heat on his face.

"Spartan." The Captain nods back. He even smiles. Is that sympathy or pity in his eyes?

"He came in about halfway through our discussion." Roland stage-whispers to him. It is definitely loud enough for Lasky to hear because he grins into his mug. "I would have warned you but you seemed so intent on this topic."

"Roland."

"Yes, Miller? Something you care to share?"

"No..." He doesn't deflate, but the fight's gone out of him. There's no winning.

"Captain." Miller nods and leaves the room. He's dreading Ops now. There's no way Roland lets this lie.

-

"Hello Crimson, Roland here!"

Miller doesn't mute in time and hot mics an exasperated groan straight into Crimson's TEAMCOM.

"Spartan Miller! I know today's mission is a lot of standing around and waiting for things to happen, but a bit of decorum, please! What would Commander Palmer say?"

"Clear the line and let the Spartans work, Roland."

"That is a very good impression of her, have you been working on that?"

Miller ignores him and tells Crimson their mission. It is in fact a “standing around and waiting for things” mission. Four Spartans from Fireteam Crimson are guarding Site Req//7848-2328 codenamed “The Refuge” because it’d been the site of enough problems already and Commander Palmer wanted it covered while Infinity Science packed their bags.

“So we’re babysitting again?” Crimson 4 asks. Crimson 2 elbows him hard enough his shields flicker. Miller watches this unfold from Crimson 3’s helmet feed and sighs. It’s not his day today.

“You’re guarding the scientists and marines who are finishing up doing science stuff in the area.” Miller explains. “Before anything else bad happens.”

“And we drew the short straws.” Crimson 4 says to himself.

“Gunny, your mic’s on.” Crimson 2 chides.

“Oh I know.”

“You know-” Roland interjects.

“No.”

He ignores Miller. “-there’s a question going around and no one can agree on the answer. Miller here didn’t like me asking him, but I bet Crimson could tell me their thoughts.”

Crimson 2, 4, and 5 exchange glances. Crimson 3 continues napping from a spot in the nearby greenery, seemingly asleep until he flashes green. 

“Is milk a snack?” Roland asks and silence falls on the team of highly-trained, combat-hardened super-soldiers. 

Miller groans and hides his face in his hands. “Roland, we can't keep doing this.”

“What kind of milk?”

“I like making Pilk!”

“It could b- Gunny, what the fuck is Pilk?!”

“‘Cause it could be a snack, depending on the animal or nut it comes from.”

“Sometimes in the old country, all I had for dinner was milk.” Crimson 5 nods sagely, his accent clipping his words through the mic.

Oh you know, pilk!”

“That doesn’t explain anything!”

“What is happening?”

“Research, Miller. Isn’t it obvious?”

“Miller, what’s your opinion?” Crimson 4 chimes in.

“It’s not- it’s not a snack.” He sounds absolutely despondent. This mission was supposed to be simple, but now thanks to Roland, it’s gone completely off the rails.

“Really? Too good for milk snack?”

“It’s a drink!”

“It could be a snack. Glass of milk between meals?”

“Are you guys okay?”

“I don’t know, our mission handler is acting weird. Too high and mighty for milk snack.”

“Yesss! Join me! Rhodes, when we get back, can we make pilk?”

“I still don’t know what that is.”

“Milk and soda!”

“Sounds almost like an egg cream.”

“Aha!” Roland cheers and his avatar does a little fist pump in the Op center.

“There’s no way egg creams are real!” Miller explodes. Dalton looks at him from his station with his usual level of concern. He likes to let Miller know he’s here, but he’s not intervening.

“Focus Crimson, you have a mission.” Miller tries to regain control but it’s long gone.

“We are on mission. Stand around watching the trees and radar. Don’t let anyone touch Forerunner buttons and become the science. Listen to Roland ruin Miller’s day. Standard operating procedure so far.”

Miller doesn’t know how to respond to that.

Roland does.

“I don’t ruin his day! I brighten it and yours with my charm and valuable tactical advice!”

“Shoot the door gunner, Crimson. Touch the button, Crimson. Ooh a big locked door, let me open that for you, Crimson.”

Miller blinks in surprise as Roland is, for once, speechless.

The silence is broken by Crimson.

“Do you think Murphy considers milk a snack?”

“I don’t want to spend our trip home arguing.”

“I bet he would like pilk.”

“You’re not listening, are you?”

“No <3”

[sneezingfetishftw-fics]

Guessed it on the nose

At last, the Kink!Husk fic is here! Angel tries to get Husk to admit he has the kink. Sequel to a previous fic of mine (https://www.tumblr.com/sneezingfetishftw-fics/744412486700285953/done-tagging-zensations35-since-you-were-like), but you can understand this one without reading that one.

Angel Dust had been warned there might be lingering aftereffects of the sneezing powder. So he couldn’t exactly be too surprised when he got back still a tad congested. “Husk, baby, I’b hobe!”

Husk greeted him at the door, concern flitting across his features. “Are you alright? You don’t sound too great.”

“Excuse you, by voice is egseedigly sultry,” he replied in a voice that was indeed lower than usual.

“You know what I mean,” Husk responded, feeling Angel’s forehead. Normal temperature, that was a relief.

“I’b fide,” he insisted, grabbing a tissue and blowing vigorously. “Just a little congested from work today.”

Husk raised an eyebrow. “What did they have you do, crawl around in a dusty closet?”

Angel laughed. “Something like that. Anyway, I’m back and…” he froze, breath hitching a little. He felt Husk’s eyes on him, perhaps just a bit more intently now. “Het’CHIEW!” Did Husk’s ears perk up? Maybe for a split second, but they were back to normal again. “I’ll be fine, I promise. How about we just relax with some cuddling on the couch?”

“That sounds great.” It barely took any time for Husk to begin purring. Usually it was a bit further into their cuddle session before he got that happy.

Wait a minute. Angel Dust thought back to earlier today and replayed Husk’s behavior for the last few minutes. Was it possible? Unlikely perhaps, but there were definitely signs. But then how hadn’t he noticed them before? To be fair, signs are much easier to find when you know to look for them. Angel hadn’t even heard of a sneezing kink until today, and now he was starting to suspect that Husk might be into it. But how would he know? There’s no way Husk would just outright confess - the man was far too guarded, especially about things this intimate and embarrassing.

Husk hadn’t woken up yet, so Angel took the opportunity to send a text to the person he saw earlier. “Thanks again for yesterday! Can you tell me a bit more about what you like about sneezing, and also what it’s like to be in public and try to keep your kink secret?”

“Sure! But there’s gotta be a reason you’re asking lol. What’s up?”

Angel sighed. He supposed that was a fair question. “I think my boyfriend might have the kink? Not sure though, I wanna test the waters.”

“If so then he’s a lucky man, your sneezes are incredible!”

Angel laughed. The idea of being someone else’s “type” for sneezing was so silly but hey, who was he to turn down free arousal?

After some discussion back and forth, Angel was armed with plenty of ideas. He put the first idea in action while making breakfast. Husk was in the bedroom getting dressed, and Angel was in the kitchen making eggs, using a bit more pepper than was really necessary. This suggestion had come with the caveat that pepper would probably just make his nose burn and no more, but Angel knew from his own experience how sensitive he was to spices. And sure enough, his nose was tickling. “Hah’TSCHHH! ITSSCHH! TCHIEW!”

Husk stumbled out of the other room, one leg still not in his pants yet. “You alright over there, Ange?”

“All good, Husk, just got a little carried away with the pepper. Sorry if I startled you.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. Least I’m definitely awake now.”

If the angle had been better, Angel would have had an easy way to check if Husk was enjoying this, but unfortunately the pants were pulled up before Angel could get a good look. Still, the fact that Husk had practically come running from the other room had to count for something. And the way Husk kept glancing at Angel from the corner of his eye as if hoping for more.

Later, he felt a sneeze coming on and he tried stifling it, pinching his nose with two fingers. “Hhhh’gnxt!”

Husk looked at him like he had three heads. “What’d you do that for?“

“It’s pretty late and the bar can get kind of echoey - I was just trying to be quieter so I didn’t wake anyone up is all.”

“Screw the rest of them,” Husk replied fervently. “Take care of yourself. That looked like it hurt.”

“It did, yeah.” No more stifles, then. “Thanks, Hu-hu… huh… Huh’TCHIEW! Husk. Thanks, Husk.”

Husk smiled. “Much better.” Hmmm, yeah, Angel was adding that to the list of “evidence that Husk is totally into sneezing”.

His next opportunity was a fortuitous one. Charlie brought him hand soap as a gift, offering that “everyone deserves to smell nice, and I’m guessing your hands could get quite unpleasant after work.” It was a nice sentiment, but peppermint really didn’t agree with him. Specifically, with his nose. Normally he would have flat out refused, but this time he had a plan.

Right before he and Husk went to get intimate, he went to wash his hands as usual. But this time he pulled out the soap he’d been hiding for this occasion. It only took one good sniff and soon his hands were no longer clean. “Heh’ITSCHH! TCHHH! Hit’CHIEW! ATSCHHH! Heh’huh’hih’HitSCHIEW! Heh’IT’shue! Heh’it’SHUE! Hah’TCHH! Hetschh! Itschhhh! Snff….”

Husk made it to the bathroom just as the fit subsided. “Woah there Angel, what happened?”

“Ugh, id’s the soap,” he pointed weakly. All that sneezing had taken a bit more out of him than he expected. “Forgot I was allergic to peppermint.”

“Let’s get that off your hands, then,” Husk said gently, taking the soap. Angel didn’t catch where Husk put it, but it didn’t look like Husk was taking it to the trash. Another addition to the list then, for sure.

He came back a moment later, as Angel was washing the soap (and snot) off his hands. “Ugh, sorry I’m such a mess,” Angel said.

“You are not a mess, Angel. You are beautiful,” Husk said, gently lifting Angel’s chin.

“Thanks. But I did still make a mess…” He gestured toward the mirror coated in spray, and the wet patches on his own chest.

Husk chuckled. “I suppose you did. We can clean that later. How are you feeling?”

Angel rubbed his nose. “A little sniffly, but otherwise ok. Not sure how long it’ll take the effect of the peppermint to fully wear off.”

There was a pause, and Angel could see Husk’s mind working, probably doing a cost benefit analysis in his head. “No worries if you’re not up for it, but do you think you have the energy? You know, for what we were about to start?”

“Sure, but I should warn you… I can’t promise I won’t start sneezing again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied. “I’ve dealt with worse,” he added, almost as an afterthought. Maybe to cover up his enjoyment? This whole incident was the strongest evidence of all.

Angel had thought that sneezing during sex would give him more proof that Husk was into it, but in reality it was impossible to distinguish moans of pleasure about sex from moans of pleasure about sneezing. What he did know was that the one time Angel had accidentally sneezed on Husk, the man had carried on enthusiastically as if nothing had happened. So that actually did count as more damning evidence, although all it proved for sure was that Husk wasn’t disgusted by Angel sneezing on him.

By now, Angel was quite convinced that Husk was into sneezing. The only problem now was how to get him to admit it. Right before sex would have been the obvious time, but Husk hadn’t said anything then. He could offer to dust the place? No, Nifty had that covered. What options were even left? He turned over the question in his mind, but nothing came up.

A few days later, Angel woke up with a raging head cold, and a plan emerged. After Husk had had plenty of time to fuss over his symptoms, he went into another room and placed a call, making sure Husk was still in earshot. “Yeah I’m free today. How about… Heh’ITCSCCH! Haha, yeah, you’re welcome. How about this afternoon? Ok perfect, see you then!”

“Going somewhere?” Husk asked, entering the room.

“Oh, yeah, just a quick work thing. I should be back pretty soon.”

Husk stared at him. “You are NOT working today.” It was not an observation, but a demand.

“I’ll be fine, I’m not even that sick.” A few stray sneezes immediately undercut that point.

“You are not working today. Whatever it is can wait until you’re feeling better.”

“Ok, but actually it can’t. That’s, um… kind of the whole point.”

“What?”

“This person has a sneezing kink. They want to see me when I’m all sick.”

Husk stared. “They want to see you… they want you to… what?”

It hadn’t escaped Angel’s notice that Husk had avoided saying the word “sneeze”. Twice in fact. Guilty! “It’s no big deal, I just have to hang out with the… he… heh… het’SCHH! Them and sneeze for a bit, then I can come back right home to you. Easy money, and I barely even have to do anything!” He grinned.

“You are not working today,” Husk insisted for the third time. Only this time, it sounded a little more like begging.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Angel continued, determined to wring the confession out of Husk through sheer stubbornness. “I won’t be gone long, and it’s not like I’m so sick I need bed rest.”

Husk frowned, trying to come up with a rebuttal. “Can’t I just want you to stay with me? Isn’t that enough?” The frustration was clear on his face.

Wow, an admission of feelings! Not quite the confession Angel was waiting for, but progress nonetheless. “Of course you can, Husk,” Angel said, taking his hand gently. “I’m just confused because you’ve literally never given me this much pushback about going out before. Is there something you want to tell me?”

“No,” Husk said a little too quickly. “There’s nothing.”

“Oh, but I think there is,” Angel replied, a smug grin forming. “Is it possible that you’re jealous?”

“Of what? I’ve never had a problem with your work before.”

“Therein lies the question,” Angel returned, pacing. “Whatever could have poor Husker all worked up?”

As luck would have it, Angel felt a sneeze coming on. He leaned into all the hitching breaths, taking note of Husk’s laser focus. And then, the urge faded away. “Ugh, the sneeze went away. Such a shame, isn’t it?” Husk remained motionless. “Hmmm, I know what to do. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

“What? Where are you…”Angel returned with the soap, which he had found underneath the sink as he suspected. “Angel, what are you doing? No!” But it was too late. Angel took a deep sniff, maintaining firm eye contact.

The effects were as intense as they were predictable. Countless sneezes barreled their way out of Angel for what felt like eternity but was probably more like ten minutes.

“Now then,” Angel said, staring directly at the bulge that Husk could no longer hide. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?”

Husk sighed, knowing there was no way he could prolong this. “Ok, fine. You win. I like it when you… when you… goddamnit why is this so hard to say? I like it when you sneeze. And that’s why I want you to stay home today. Happy now?”

“Of course! I believe I have an appointment to cancel then, since it’s been replaced by time with my won… wuh… uh… uh’TSCCHH! My wonderful partner.”

[lilac-ravenclaw]

50 OC Questions

These are questions are from @localravenclaw ‘s post. Thanks so much for reading; I would love to read about other MCs!🪻

1. Describe your OC's physical appearance in detail.

She is both Latina (on her father’s side, he was from South America) and British (on her mother’s side). She has long black hair that is usually in a French braid and draped over her shoulder. It’s very wavy when out of the braid. She has lilac color eyes, honestly I haven’t decided from which parent she got them from. She has tan skin and a tiny freckle high on her left cheek, just below her eye. She is petite and has a hourglass figure. She does have a few light scars on her back. The caretaker at the orphanage would verbally and physically “discipline” the children. Raven would try to step in so none of the littler kids would be hurt. She is self conscious about anyone seeing them.

2. Why'd you choose your OC's name?

For most RPGs, my character is always named “Raven”, so for HL it wasn’t any different lol. For her last name, honestly, it was an inside joke. I love the 70s show Fawlty Towers, with John Cleese. It only ran for about a dozen episodes but it’s hilarious. It was the first last name I could think of😄

3. How does your OC feel about their birthday?

Her birthday is Jan. 29, 1874, and she only cares about to a bit because her favorite poem, The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe, was first published on that day in 1845. She only starts to care more when Sebastian gives her a birthday gift in their sixth year, which are tiny gold snake earrings. It was her first ever birthday gift ever. (Side note: my birthday is also Jan. 29. I tried to think of another day but making her an Aquarius too just felt right ♒️)

4. How does your OC and their parents get along?

Unfortunately, Raven doesn’t know who her family is. She lived at the orphanage as long as she can remember. She won’t go looking for them, as she figures they would’ve already have come back for her at some point. In my story for her, the caretaker gave her the last name “Fawlty”, (and yes misspelling it on purpose) as another way to torment her. Though she keeps the name to prove to others that she isn’t “faulty”.

5. What's something you'd never put your OC through again?

Being alone. She has too many people around her that genuinely cares. Especially with having Sebastian in her life, she will never be alone again.

6. What's your OC's go-to comfort meal?

Breakfast foods. All kinds, pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, grilled tomatoes, and toast. There’s just something about a nice breakfast that makes Raven feel warm and cozy. It’s the simple things in life🍳

7. What career path would your OC take?

Though she feels it’s expected for her to be an Auror, Curse Breaker or working for the Ministry. Ultimately she has a love for music, specifically singing. She does try out for the choir at Hogwarts. The only person who knew was Poppy and she gave Raven the courage needed to try out their sixth year (now that she wasn’t in the middle of stopping a goblin rebellion!). She also knows how to play the piano too, and taught herself to play, however, she doesn’t know how to read sheets of music. 🎼

8. What's something your OC can't do?

Can’t say no to someone who needs help. Since no one was really there for her growing up at the orphanage, she believes that no one should feel helpless no matter the size of the problem. If she can help, she will!

9. What is your OC's ideal romantic partner?

Someone who will stand by her side and love her no matter what. They make her feel like she does belong and won’t be judged. They believe in her and encourage her to do what makes her happy.

10. Does your OC like to spend time alone or with others more?

Honestly, Raven can go either way. She loves spending time with her friends, especially Sebastian, and does prefer her close circle of friends. Though she is content with taking time for herself by either reading a good book, or practicing her music in the Room of Requirement.

11. What time does your OC usually go to sleep?

Depends really, school nights she’ll try to go to sleep at a decent time, if there isn’t too much homework. On weekends or summertime she’ll stay up late with Sebastian or hanging out with other friends.

12. Where in the sibling order is your OC?

Unknown, as far as she’s aware she is an only child.

13. What's the worst thing your OC's ever done?

Harming the orphanage caretaker. The caretaker was “disciplining” one of the smaller children and accusing them of stealing something from her room. Raven had just about enough of it with her and wished a bookshelf to fly across the room and slam into her. Everything had happened so fast and it took a moment for her to realize that’s exactly what happened. All the other children had looked at her with wide eyes and she quickly grabbed what few possessions she had and ran away. That was a few days before Professor Fig had come to the orphanage to gift Raven her Hogwarts letter. He was able to find her hiding out at a near by in a couple days later.

14. What would it take for your OC to kill someone?

By them hurting someone she loved/cared very dearly about.

15. What item does your OC hold most dear?

A copper cameo brooch given by Sebastian. It was a Christmas present, and was surrounded by little pearls and had the Ancient Magic symbol engraved in the center. She has worn it everyday since.

16. How does your OC unwind?

Practicing her singing and playing piano. She does want to learn how to read sheet music, but ends up just playing from the heart. Of course reading! Broom flying as well, as she finds it therapeutic. Even just relaxing with Sebastian in the Room of Requirement or Undercroft.

17. What's your OC's star sign?

Aquarius! Aquarians are intellectual, curious and can be deeply social. They are represented by the Star card in the tarot. They are determined to make a powerful difference in the world. ♒️

18. What kind of drunk is your OC?

She doesn’t normally drink, but she would be very chatty and giggly.

19. Who does your OC end up with?

Sebastian Sallow. He is her whole world and everything comes naturally with him. Her day doesn’t feel complete until she’s shared it with him. With him she feels anywhere they go, she’ll always be home.

20. Who is your OC's role model?

Professor Fig. He was her first father figure and the first to believe and guide her through such a challenging time. Not only with simply learning how to be a proper witch, but helping her learn about Ancient Magic and taking on a goblin rebellion.

21. Is your OC big on revenge?

Not necessarily. If she can, Raven will tell said person how she feels right then. If it’s minor she won’t go out of her way to get back at them. If it’s critical then she will do what it takes to get back at them.

22. If your OC ever got the chance, would they go back in time? When would they go?

Ultimately no she wouldn’t go back. Through her hardships growing up she believes it made her the woman she is. Though if she could go back, it would be to try and save both Lodgok and Professor Fig.

23. What's your OC's favourite memory?

Getting her Hogwarts letter would be one. She always felt there was something more to her life but didn’t fully understand what. The picnic her and Sebastian went on the summer before their sixth year. They had finally confessed their feelings for each other and had their first kiss.

24. Will your OC ever admit to being wrong?

Always! No one wants to admit they’re wrong but Raven knows it’s the right thing to do. She feels it’s better to put her feelings aside and admit when something is her fault and go from there. Except with Imelda, because she finds it funny to get her all riled up over nothing, especially when it comes to quidditch.

25. Is your OC doomed by the narrative?

Possibly. Not sure where the next game is going to go. All these little things I wrote about Raven is for me only and I fully look forward to see what will happen in the sequel!

26. Would your OC get along with you?

I would think so!☺️

27. What's one thing your OC will never get over?

Her fear of being alone and losing everyone she loves. She went from having no one to having a family in such a short time. To have that all taken away would be heart breaking.

28. Is your OC going to make it?

I’d like to think so. She’s been through so much but each time becomes stronger from it. Plus it helps to have the love of her life by her side. Sebastian gives her that extra boost of strength she didn’t know she needed.

29. Does your OC look their age?

Yes!✨

30. What weird pet would your OC have?

She has a pet Flying Fox Bat named Agnes since her seventh year. They can have a five foot wing span, and she’s basically as long as Raven is tall. So it took a bit for Sebastian to come around with her keeping Agnes. But Agnes is a bit sweetheart and loves being part of the family. Mini story of Agnes was she was living in captivity at the London Zoo and escaped one day. Making her way to the Forbidden Forest, Raven found her alone while taking a hike late one evening. They had an immediate connection and she’s taken care of her ever since. 🦇

31. Does your OC care a lot about their appearance?

Yes and no. Personal hygiene of course. Brushing a braiding her hair, definitely. If it’s a regular day then she does not mind wearing a casual outfit. Going out on a date with Sebastian, then she’ll put on a little makeup and get dolled up more because… why not?💄

32. What's one food your OC can't stand?

French Onion Soup. It was what was mostly served at the orphanage. Yuck!

33. What animal do people associate your OC with?

Probably the same as her Patronus, which is a black bear. That animal is known for their adaptability and resourcefulness. Others will see her as a fierce opponent who will protect herself and those close to her. Only those close to her will know of that softer side she usually keeps hidden away.

34. What's your OC's "thing"?

Depends on what the “thing” refers to… 😅🤔 if it’s behavioral then it’s fiddling with her braid when she’s nervous and can’t figure out what to say, thus being an awkward mess. If it’s material then probably her cameo brooch. If it’s physical then her lilac eyes of course!

35. Random fact about your OC

Despite being Latina, she doesn’t speak Spanish. Because Raven doesn’t know where part of her heritage comes from she never learned.

36. Would your OC sleep with a clone of themself?

…no…🫣

37. What part of yourself do you love in your OC?

Her loyalty to her the people she loves/cares about the most.

38. What's the lowest point in your OC's life?

After being “disciplined” crying herself to sleep and feeling so alone. Wishing and dreaming of a better tomorrow.

39. What's your OC's biggest achievement?

Finding a family. She believes family isn’t about blood, but finding people who will always be there no matter what and accept you for who you are.

40. Does your OC ever go back home?

She considered her “home” to be wherever Sebastian is. The orphanage was never her home.

41. How would your OC adapt to the modern world?

Since she loves music so much I think so. There’s so much emotion to express through music. With that I think she can adapt pretty quickly.

42. Does your OC have any unique talents?

As stated, she sings and plays piano. 🎤🎹 Though it takes a long time to finally share that passion with others.

43. Does your OC exist in canon or AU timeline?

Canon, I think.

44. Is your OC a people person?

Only with those in her inner circle. She will be cordial to others, unless they’re rude to her and then they won’t be worth her time anymore.

45. Did your OC ever have an alternative name?

Whatever her birth name was, but she’ll never know.

46. Does your OC possess any special powers?

Just being able to wield Ancient Magic.✨

47. Is your OC allergic to anything?

Just to people who are rude and mean to others for no reason.

48. Does your OC have a lot of uncommon knowledge? How do they know it?

I guess knowing able everyday muggle things that would seem weird to other people only growing up in the wizarding world.

49. Does your OC have any scars or birthmarks with an interesting story?

She has some scares from being “disciplined”, thankfully she can cover them with everyday clothes.

50. What do you love and hate most about your OC?

I hate that she isn’t real and that the wizarding world isn’t real😆 Otherwise no, I don’t nor can I hate Raven. I love her courage and kindness. That she’ll fight no matter hard things may seem, and always get back up after falling down. She’s had to overcome so much and was alone for so long but now she has a family.🪻💜

If you have finished reading then thank you so much!💜

[youshouldhavepaidattentiondad]

A Budding Conspiracy

Ao3

Summary: Best friends Ziggs and Skud didn't mean to stumble into what is possibly the biggest conspiracy in Hatchetfield. Upon learning what happens to the Honey Queen every year, the duo have to figure out who they can trust as they decide how far they'll go for answers.

It's been a while, but here's my entry for the @hatchetfield-bang this year!

-

The sun dips low in the sky, casting a cozy orange glow over the town of Hatchetfield. Main street is busy as citizens of the town prepare for tomorrow night. 

Deep in the heart of Witchwood Forest, a small green pickup truck sits outside an old farmhouse. Ziggs sprawls out on the ground, soaking up the sun.

They should be working, the thought has crossed their mind. But Emma is spending the weekend in town with her boyfriend, so Ziggs is going to take the opportunity to relax.

The rumble of an approaching engine makes Ziggs crack open an eye lazily. Their bare toes wriggle in the soft blades of grass as they watch a beat up black sedan roll into the yard.

The car comes to a halt, the engine shutting off. The driver's door opens. “Hey, Ziggy,” Skud calls as he climbs out. 

Ziggs grins, propping themself up on their elbows as they watch their friend approach. “Sup, man?” They greet, eagerly eyeing the case of hard ciders Skud carries.

“Not much. Glad to have a fucking break from rehearsals,” Skud replies as he plops down on the ground next to Ziggs. He brushes back his long, wavy hair. “Shouldn't you be, like, working right now?”

“Perky's not here,” Ziggs answers as they open the box of ciders. The bottles rattle slightly before becoming still again. “Besides, I don't think she'd be mad if I took a little break.”

Smirking, Skud reaches into his pocket to pull out a bottle opener. “Perky seems like a chill boss. Better than Thrash anyway.”

Ziggs holds out a bottle, letting Skud pop the top off before asking, “He still being a dick?”

“He's just mad cause Maevis Lyn has been super successful since breaking up with him and starting her own band,” Skud explains as he grabs himself a bottle from the box.

They sit in silence for a few minutes. A light breeze washes over them as they sip their ciders.

“Wanna go to the Honey Festival tomorrow?” Ziggs asks finally, “I wanna get some honey to infuse with weed.”

Snorting slightly, Skud replies, “Of course you do. I'm down, as long as we don't have to go to the Honey Queen pageant.”

“Yeah, no, fuck that,” Ziggs agrees. They drain the rest of their bottle before setting it in the grass between them and Skud. They pull out another bottle. 

Before they can get Skud to open it for them, a stronger gust of wind blows over them, making the field of cannabis sway.

Ziggs retches, tugging their shirt up over their nose to try to block the smell the breeze carries. “The fuck is that gnarly smell?”

Nose wrinkling in disgust, Skud shrugs. “Maybe a timberwolf didn't finish eating something.”

“Nah, if a timberwolf left it, the nighthawks would have picked it clean.”

The wind dies down and Ziggs lets their shirt drop as the scent fades. “Probably the Metzgers and something weird over on their property.”

Skud nods as he opens the fresh bottle for Ziggs. “Probably,” he agrees.

The sun finishes setting, casting them in the glow of twilight. They head inside before the mosquitoes start to appear.

In the farmhouse, Skud raises the windows for the fresh air, the screens keeping the bugs out. 

Ziggs emerges from the kitchen, a brownie in each hand. “Me and Perky baked them fresh earlier,” they inform Skud proudly.

“Are they left handed?” Skud asks even as he reaches for the one Ziggs offers.

“Brownies don't have hands.”

Skud takes a bite of brownie. “I meant do they have weed in them, dumbass.”

“Oh. Yeah, they do,” Ziggs laughs.

The moon slowly rises. Stars twinkle and shine down on the farmhouse. Inside, Skud and Ziggs lounge lazily on the couch, their brownies kicking in.

It happens again: a strong breeze filters through the window screen, carrying the same smell as before.

“Okay, what the fuck is that?” Skud demands as Ziggs gags.

“One way to find out,” Ziggs manages to get out.  They stand, swaying slightly as they walk to the kitchen. They return shortly with two flashlights.

Skud stands unsteadily, taking one of the flashlights.

They venture past the fields and into the trees of the woods. The lights cast eerie shadows as they illuminate their way.

“I hope it's not a dead animal,” Ziggs says as they stumble over a tree root, bumping into Skud. “Fucking hate seeing dead animals.”

“I know you do.” Skud clumsily pats them on the back as they continue making their way.

After a bit of walking, they can hear voices up ahead, as well as see lights.

Instinctively, Ziggs switches off their flashlight, prompting Skud to do the same. They creep to the edge of the trees to see a clearing.

Torches cast the space and several figures in black robes in a hazy light.

In that light, they see the cause for the smell: A large pile of pig carcasses.

Ziggs claps a hand over their mouth, trying to fight the urge to vomit.

“-prepared for tomorrow night,” one of the robed figures says to a tall man with a thin mustache.

“...isn't that Roman Murray?” Skud whispers, leaning towards Ziggs.

It takes Ziggs a moment to focus, but when they do, they recognize the only figure not draped in a cloak. They nod, frowning at the scene.

“Excellent,” Roman replies, “I'll be here tomorrow night with our new Honey Queen. Hopefully she enjoys the ceremony.”

Dark laughter ripples through the clearing, sending shivers down both Skud and Ziggs’ spines.

Skud bolts first, his flashlight flickering to life as he tries to put as much distance between himself and the clearing.

It doesn't take long for Ziggs to follow.

The beams of their flashlights bounce and jerk as they race through the Witchwood. Ziggs feels like they don't breathe until they burst out of the trees, back in the safety of the farm.

Ziggs drops to the ground, panting heavily. Out of their peripheral, they see Skud doubled over, leaning against a nearby tree.

it takes several moments, but once they get their breath back, Ziggs’ first words are, “What the fuck?!”

“I… I don't know,” Skud admits. He straightens up,  glancing over his shoulder. He pushes off the tree and reaches a hand out to help Ziggs off the ground.

They make it back into the farmhouse, collapsing on the couch. The air feels heavy, the weight of what they saw and heard hanging over them.

“Why do you think they have dead pigs for the Honey Queen?” Skud finally asks after several minutes,  breaking the silence.

“Fuck if I know, man.” Ziggs shudders at the memory of the pig carcasses. “You think that's why she leaves every year? They scare her off with dead pigs?”

Skud contemplates this. “We could always go back tomorrow night. See what they do.”

“...yeah, we could,” Ziggs hesitates, “But, like, do we want to?”

More silence. Ziggs grabs their open cider and chugs the rest of it.

Yawning, Skud shrugs. “Maybe we decide tomorrow. Right now, I think it's time for bed.”

“Yeah. Come on up,  the guest room is all made up for you.”

They make their way up the stairs, saying their goodnights at the landing before going into their respective rooms.

Ziggs changes into a loose tank top and a pair of sweats before climbing into bed.

It feels like they're asleep before their head touches the pillow.

The next morning, sunlight shines through the window of Ziggs’ room, falling across their face. Wincing, they slowly open their eyes, cringing back from the light.

Their whole body aches, like they got hit by a truck. Groaning, they roll over to climb out of bed.

Their bare feet pad down the stairs and they make a beeline for the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

By the time it finishes brewing, Skud enters the kitchen, his bandana missing, leaving his messy curls hanging in his face.

Ziggs grabs two mugs, pouring them each a cup before passing one to Skud.

He gives an appreciative little grunt before taking a sip, hissing at the heat.

They settle at the kitchen table, snacking from the box of donuts sitting between them.

Finally, Skud speaks. “You remember last night?”

Memories flash through Ziggs’ mind: the smell, the pig carcasses, the conversation they overheard.

They swallow the donut they were eating, quickly chasing it down to a swig of coffee before answering, “Yeah. I'm guessing you do too.”

“Yeah,” Skud replies. He stares down at his coffee.

The silence feels uncomfortable. Ziggs reaches for another donut. “We could just forget it,” they suggest.

“We could,” Skud agrees, “But… what's one of the most powerful men in Hatchetfield doing in the woods late at night with people in robes and dead pigs?”

“... I don't know.”

Skud finally looks up from his coffee, brushing his hair back from his face to look at Ziggs seriously. “I say we, like, Scooby Doo this shit.”

Ziggs chuckles at this before seeing the look in Skud's eye. “Wait, for real?”

“Yeah, for real,” Skud confirms, “You in?”

Taking a sip of coffee, Ziggs considers it before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I'm in. Where do we start?”

Skud hums thoughtfully. “Roman Murray said they were going to bring the Honey Queen there…”

“...so we should probably go to the pageant,” Ziggs finishes with a groan. “I hate beauty pageants.”

“Same,” Skud agrees, “But, like, if we're going to find out what they're planning, I think we need to go.”

Another frustrated groan escapes Ziggs. “Fine.” They stand to go refill their mug. “We go to the Honey Festival, hit up some stalls, go to the pageant- wait, how are we gonna find our way back to that clearing?”

Skud blinks as if he hadn't considered that. “I mean, we found it last night. It shouldn't be too hard.”

“Yeah, okay, that makes sense.” Ziggs agrees. They check their watch. “Festival starts in a few hours. Imma have a brownie. You want one?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Skud stands as well, grabbing his mug on the way up. 

-

Downtown Hatchetfield bustles with life. Vendor stalls line the streets, along with food trucks and carnival games. 

Ziggs and Skud walk down the road toward the Starlight Theater. Ziggs carries a brown paper bag holding a jar of honey they bought earlier in the afternoon.

Next to them, Skud snacks on some cotton candy, the sugar turning his lips blue.

“Do we know anyone competing in the pageant?” Skud asks curiously. 

“Dude,  I don't even know who is competing,” Ziggs admits, “We weren't going to go, remember?”

They walk up the steps to the doors of the theater. Ziggs looks around. “You know, I don't think I've ever actually been in here.”

“Me either,” Skud admits. 

They find seats near the back of the house. Almost all of the rows in front of them are full, crammed with citizens eager to see their new queen get crowned. 

The lights over the auditorium go dark as a spotlight illuminates Professor Henry Hidgens, microphone in hand. “Welcome, Hatchetfield, to the Honey Queen Pageant!”

Avid applause fills the chamber, complete with some hoots and hollers. Ziggs rolls their eyes, reaching over to steal some of Skud's cotton candy.

“We have twenty very beautiful, very talented women here to put on their best for you folks,” Hidgens proclaims once the clapping has died down. “First-”

Ziggs tunes out the names as they stare at the stage. One name in particular catches their attention though: Charlotte Sweetly. It catches their attention because Skud smacks their arm when it's announced.

“What?” Ziggs hisses, rubbing their arm.

Skud looks at them seriously. “Isn't her husband a cop?” He asks before glancing around. “See, right there.”

Following Skud's gaze, Ziggs sees a uniformed officer clapping albeit half heartedly at the announcement of his wife's name.

“Yeah, so?” Ziggs whispers.

“I dunno, do you think the police are in on this too?”

Ziggs considers this before shaking their head. “Nah, man. I think this is bigger than small town cops. Much bigger.”

They go quiet as the question round begins. All of the answers seem generic: world peace, betterment for children, etc.

Then comes Charlotte's turn. Ziggs finally recognizes her. It's unusual seeing her in a royal purple evening gown instead of her usual knitted cat sweaters. She's transformed from frumpy to dazzling, with her curls framing her face.

“Okay, Charlotte, your question,” Hidgens starts before pausing for dramatic effect. “What is your biggest fear?”

Charlotte gives a dreamy smile. “I'd have to say my biggest fear,” She responds, “Is leaving Hatchetfield, because I know nowhere else could be as great.”

The crowd eats it up,  going wild for the answer.

Skud frowns, leaning in towards Ziggs. “Isn't she usually, like, super timid when you see her around town?”

“Yeah,” Ziggs confirms before glancing at the cop again, who is applauding much more enthusiastically at his wife's reply. “Maybe she's trying to prove something to someone.”

After a few more questions to other participants, Hidgens announces the talent portion of the pageant.

Ziggs and Skud both groan lowly at this. It's a new kind of torture, listening to a grating violin that clearly hadn't been practiced in years. The rest of the acts that follow are equally as mediocre.

Then Charlotte comes onstage to perform Just for Once from The Barbecue Monologues. The pain In her voice, the utter desperation bleeds through every note. Ziggs isn't sure If they're imagining it, but it seems like every now and then throughout the song, she's looking directly at her husband instead of performing to the judges and audience.

By the end of the tune, Skud discreetly wipes away a couple tears. “I think she is trying to prove something,” he manages to croak out quietly.

Ziggs pats him on the back.

Once the talent portion completes, Hidgens returns to the stage. “Now, we're going to take a few minutes to let the judges deliberate- oh? You're ready?”

One of the judges stands, passing an envelope to Hidgens.

Straightening up,  Hidges places the microphone in the stand. “Okay, Hatchetfield. Your Honey Queen this year is….” he pauses dramatically as he pulls the cars from the envelope. “...Charlotte Sweetly!”

Thunderous applause greets Charlotte as she comes back out on stage, beaming as Hidgens places a sparkling silver crown on her head.

“C'mon, we need to get back there,” Skud mutters as he nudges Ziggs.

Nodding, Ziggs stands.

They hurry from the theater, back to Ziggs’ truck. Once they're safely in the cab, Ziggs lets out a breath they didn't realize they were holding.

It's not until they're on the road, driving through the dark back to the farmhouse that Skud speaks. “What do you think they're going to do to her?”

“Fuck if I know, man,” Ziggs answers, voice shaking. They spare a glance over at Skud. “Last chance to back out.”

Skud shakes his head firmly. “I gotta know what happens.”

“Okay.” Ziggs presses their lips in a thin line.

The truck rolls to a stop next to the porch. The pair climb out,  heading inside to grab flashlights before heading for the treeline.

“Maybe they just pay her to leave town,” Ziggs suggests as they cross the field.

“Why would there be dead pigs then?” Skud questions as they break step into the forest, stepping over gnarled roots.

Ziggs doesn't have an answer for that.

Silently, they wander through the trees, their flashlights cutting through the darkness.

After several minutes, Skud flips off his flashlight, prompting Ziggs to do the same.

Several yards ahead, Ziggs can make out the glow of torches. Swallowing heavily, Ziggs follows Skud almost to the treeline, trying to stay hidden in the shadows.

The seconds stretch into minutes. Ziggs feels like they're suffocating from anticipation.

Finally, a fancy car rolls up,  headlights cutting through the trees. Skud and Ziggs both duck to avoid being seen.

As they stand up again, Roman Murray and Charlotte are climbing out of the car.

The ground rumbles slightly, making Ziggs and Skud both hold onto a tree for support. Hissing and popping fills the air as the pig carcasses begin to writhe.

Ziggs retches, covering their mouth with a hand as the pigs begin to stretch and meld into one another. Even from this distance, they can see the teeth from the bodies falling into neat rows until a huge, gaping maw appears, licking its lips.

A loud shriek fills the air as Charlotte turns to try to run. The figures in robes grab her, dragging her back over to the mouth. 

“Hello, Charlotte,” the mouth greets with a smile. Its voice grates Ziggs’ ears. “Yum, yum.”

In horror, Ziggs and Skud watch as Charlotte gets lifted and devoured by the mouth in one bite.

Skud steps back first, his foot crashing down on a large branch with a sharp crack.

“What was that?” Roman demands, looking towards the trees.

Ziggs doesn't wait, turning and running as fast as they can. They can hear Skud behind them. They're halfway back to the farmhouse before Ziggs even remembers to turn their flashlight back on. 

Once they break through the trees, the pair both drop to the dewy grass, panting heavily.

The moon shines down on them as they attempt to catch their breath.

Skud speaks first. “What… the ever loving fuck… was that?!”

“I dunno, man,” Ziggs gasps, “That…” They shudder as the scene replays in their mind. “We gotta tell someone.”

Nodding vehemently, Skud glances back at the trees, as if expecting someone to be following them. “...what about your dad?”

“My dad is an artist, the fuck is he gonna do?” Ziggs asks.

“No, not Russ, your other dad,” Skud clarifies, “The military one.”

Ziggs considers this before shaking their head. “No. He's busy. I doubt he'd come back for this,” they say bitterly. They push themself to their feet before reaching out a hand to help Skud up.  “Come on,  let's get inside.”

Once they make it back inside the farmhouse, they collapse on opposite sides of the couch. “Where do we even start with this?” Ziggs asks, pulling off their beanie to run their hand back through their hair.

“... maybe the mayor?” Skud suggests slowly, “If people in town are being ritualistically sacrificed, he'd probably want to know.”

Ziggs considers this before shaking their head. “I don't think so. For all we know, he was under one of those robes. We gotta think smaller, find someone who can actually help.”

The clock on the wall ticks loudly in the silence.

“... what about your dad? Hasn't he lived in Hatchetfield all his life?” Ziggs finally questions. 

Skud nods. “Yeah. Yeah we can try asking him, see what he knows.”

The next morning, Ziggs and Skud head down to the docks. The pair steps out of Ziggs’ truck, heading down to where a houseboat floats in the water.

A man with long, curly, sandy hair, not unlike Skud's, stands on the deck. His tanned skin broken up by various scars on his hands.  Busy coiling a length of rope around his arm, he doesn't notice the two approaching.

“Permission to come aboard, captain?” Ziggs calls once they're close enough to be heard. 

The man looks up, smiling slightly at the sight of them. “Ziggs! Scott!” He hangs up the rope as they walk across the gangway.

“Hey, Dad,” Scott replies. 

Ziggs waves. “Hey, Harold. We have a couple questions.”

“Questions?” Harold raises an eyebrow, the scar running through it made more prominent by the action. “What kind of questions?”

Glancing around nervously, Skud suggests, “Let's go inside first then we'll ask.”

Frowning, Harold leads them inside to a small sitting area. Skud and Ziggs squeeze onto a small loveseat while Harold settles into an armchair. “What's going on?”

Ziggs and Skud exchange a look. “Dad.. does anyone know what happens to the Honey Queen every year?” Skud finally asks. 

“She leaves town,” Harold replies with a shrug, “Everyone knows that.”

“Yeah, but do we know for sure she leaves town?” Ziggs asks, “Does anyone stay in touch with her after she leaves? Or does she just go missing?”

Harold laughs lightly. “People seem to go missing every day around here,” he answers, “Besides, almost all the Honey Queens have been young, single women. They probably just leave after winning to get out.”

“...what if-” Ziggs starts, stopping abruptly when Skud shakes his head before standing. 

“Thanks, Dad,” he says.

Harold doesn't seem surprised by Skud suddenly wanting to leave. “Of course. Are you still coming over for dinner next week? Gabe and your Uncle Barry will be here.”

“Yeah, I'll be here.”

Ziggs follows Skud off the houseboat. “What the hell, man?” They finally ask once they're back on the dock.

“He wouldn't have believed us,” Skud says with a sigh. “We-”

“Well, if it isn't Ziggs MacNamara and Scott Swift,” Roman Murray's voice comes from behind them. 

They both jump, turning to see Roman standing in front of a large boat, dressed in linen shorts and shirt.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Murray,” Skud says awkwardly. His eyes dart to the blonde woman waiting impatiently on the boat as four blonde boys run around.

“What's up?” Ziggs asks, feeling dread creep up their spine.

Roman smiles widely. “Just seeing what you two thought of the Honey Festival last night. Did you enjoy the show?”

Swallowing nervously, Ziggs starts, “Yeah, the pageant was gr-”

“I'm not talking about the pageant.” Roman's eyes seem to glint as he takes a step towards them. “Who have you told?”

“N-no one,” Skud manages to get out,  reaching blindly for Ziggs’ hand to give it a squeeze. 

“Let's keep it that way, shall we?” Roman's sharp grin looks more like a predator baring its teeth.

One of the boys from the boat calls, “Grandpa, hurry up!”

“Coming, Trent.” Roman turns.

A sudden burst of courage fills Ziggs' chest. “We'll stop you.” They squeeze Skud's hand back.

“Stop me?” Roman turns back, shaking his head. “By all means, stop me. But you'll never be able to stop Nibblenephim.”

Without another word, he heads up to the boat.

Skud jerks Ziggs’ towards the truck, glancing back anxiously. “What the hell, Ziggy?”

“I-” Ziggs shakes their head, suddenly aware of how fast their heart is beating. “I don't know.”

Once they're back in the truck, they watch the boat Roman is on sail away from the docks. “How does he know your name?” Ziggs finally asks.

“My dad is part of the Hatchetfield Boating Society,” Skud explains, “I've seen Roman Murray at their events. His daughter is the president.” He glances at Ziggs. “How did he know your name?”

Ziggs racks their brain for an answer. “I-I don't know,” they admit, “Maybe something with Pops working at the school? I think he's a donor or a school board member or something?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

An uneasy silence falls over them. They watch until the boat fades from view, too far out in the lake to be seen from shore.

“I need to smoke,” Ziggs mutters before cranking up the truck.

When they arrive at the farmhouse, there's another car parked beside Skud's. 

“Looks like Perky's home,” Skud comments as they climb out of the truck.

“Perfect! She'll believe us!”

Ziggs races up the porch steps, Skud close behind them.

Inside, Emma Perkins and her boyfriend, Paul Matthews, sit on the couch. A movie plays on the TV, not that Ziggs cares. They stand in front of the TV.

“Ziggs, can you move?” Emma asks as she pauses the film. “We were watching something.”

“And now you're going to listen to me,” Ziggs says urgently.

Emma blinks, surprised at this tone from her farmhand. 

“So you know last night was the Honey Festival. Skud and I went to the Honey Queen Pageant-”

Paul interrupts, “Oh yeah. My coworker Charlotte won. Well, ex coworker. She sent in her resignation after she won. We didn't go to the pageant though. People singing and dancing-”

“Makes you uncomfortable, I know, I've heard a million times,” Ziggs snaps. They fidget anxiously.

Emma sits up straighter, “Ziggy, what the hell is wrong with you?” She demands, “Are you sober right now? Do you need to smoke?”

“Yes and yes, but this is more important!”

Skud rests a hand on Ziggs' shoulder in an attempt to soothe them. “We saw what happens to the Honey Queen.”

Paul and Emma share a look. “What do you mean? She leaves town. She always does,” Paul responds.

“No, she doesn't! She gets eaten by some fucking monster mouth made of dead pigs!” Ziggs exclaims, flashes of the night before running through their mind.

Silence as their outburst hangs in the air.

“...Ziggy,” Emma starts slowly, “What have you been lacing your blunts with?”

“I- nothing!” Ziggs practically shouts, “I know what I saw!”

Emma frowns. “Really? Cause it sounds like you were doing ‘shrooms or smoking salvia.”

Next to her, Paul shifts. “Yeah. That seems more likely than whatever the hell you just said,” he agrees.

“I- forget it!” Ziggs throws their hands up in frustration before storming back out of the farmhouse, Skud right behind them.

Ziggs jerks open the door of the truck before climbing in. Skud slides into the passenger seat. He stays quiet as Ziggs starts up the truck once more.

They drive around Hatchetfield in silence for several minutes. They pass by the high school before entering a small neighborhood.

Out in front of one of the houses stands a small sign that reads yard sale. Tables littered with 80s memorabilia fill the yard.

Skud points to it. “Should we stop?”

“Yeah, why not?” Ziggs huffs as they pull the truck over to park by the curb.

As they climb out of the truck, a familiar voice calls their names. They both look to see a familiar man with dark curls and warm hazel eyes.

“Hey, Duke,” Ziggs greets as Skud nods. They look around at the displays. “Finally get tired of the retro?”

Duke gives a sad smile. “It's not mine. I'm selling it for a friend who sadly passed away.” He gestures to the items. “Take a look around, see if anything catches your eye.”

Another potential customer comes up to Duke, holding a bright purple leather jacket.

Ziggs doesn't wait to hear the offer the person makes, choosing instead to follow Skud through the maze of tables.

“Whoever Duke's friend was really seemed to like the 80s,” Skud comments.

“Yeah,” Ziggs replies vaguely, their mind far from the yard sale. Their eyes land on a table covered with candles and crystals. They frown slightly as they approach the table. 

Amongst the candles and crystals, there's a rectangular something wrapped in a red cloth.

Without thinking, Ziggs picks it up,  pulling back the cloth to reveal a black book with some unfamiliar symbol on the cover.

“A book?” Skud asks, raising an eyebrow.

Nodding, Ziggs flips it open to show a map of Hatchetfield. They frown as they notice certain places marked by stars. “Look at this,” they say as they hold the book out for Skud to examine.

Skud takes the book, examining the map. “That's the Starlight Theater,” he says, pointing to one of the stars. “Then Lakeside Mall… CCRP… Hatchetfield High… and the old Waylon place.”

“What do all those places have in common?” Ziggs wonders as they take the book back. They flip a few pages in, eyes widening as they catch sight of a certain word. “Isn't that the name Roman Murray said?” They ask urgently, showing the book to Skud once more.

Skud's bright blue eyes widen. “Yeah… yeah I think it is.”

The book closes as Ziggs quickly wraps it back in its cloth. “We need this book. You got any cash on you?”

“Uhh…” Skud pats his pockets before pulling out his wallet. He fishes out a five dollar bill. “Think this will work?”

“Worth a shot.” Ziggs takes the money from him before heading back to Duke. “Hey, any chance we can get this book for five?” They ask, holding up the book as they offer the money.

Duke frowns slightly, as if trying to remember something. The moment passes and he shrugs. “Sure.” He takes the bill. “Anything else?”

“Nope, that's it. Thanks, Duke!” Ziggs calls, already heading back to the truck.

Skud waves before jogging to catch up with Ziggs.

Once they're in the truck, Ziggs passes the book to Skud before they begin to drive. “What is that thing?” They ask, “Some kind of spell book?”

“I dunno,” Skud says nervously. He opens the book, flipping through the pages slowly. He frowns as he scans the words on the page. “It looks like it though.”

Ziggs’ thumbs tap against the steering wheel as they come to a stop at a red light. “You think this is how we find out about what happened?”

The book shakes slightly as Skud's hands tremble. “Do we want to know that bad?” 

“Dude, looking into this whole thing was your idea!” Ziggs reminds him. 

“Yeah, I know! But like…” Skud swallows thickly as the book flips shut once more. “This is big. Bigger than us, bigger than this whole town.” His eyes dart to Ziggs. “Are you sure we shouldn't get your dad involved?”

The light turns green. Ziggs starts driving again. “I already told you, he's probably too busy to deal with this,” they snap a little harsher than they mean to. “We have to figure this out ourselves.”

“Alright, alright.” Skud stares down at the cover of the tome. “First we gotta figure out exactly what that means.”

“I think it means stopping Nibb- you know,” Ziggs answers, “Maybe that book has a way we can do that.”

Reluctantly, Skud opens the book once more, turning the pages slowly. “What if we could talk to that thing?” He asks, pausing on a certain page. “This one is called ‘Holding Court with the Void.’ That sounds promising.”

Hands tightening on the wheel, Ziggs asks, “Okay, how do we do it?”

“Looks like we need a Black Altar,” Skud reads from the page. Paper rustles as he flips back to the map. “That must be these places marked on the map.”

“Remind me what they are again,” Ziggs requests. 

Nodding, Skud's eyes scan the map. “Lakeside Mall… CCRP… Hatchetfield High… the Starlight Theater… and the old Waylon place.”

“Well, we're not going to the old Waylon place,” Ziggs says with a shudder. “I think the mall is our best bet.”

“Yeah. Easiest to get into, for sure,” Skud agrees before flipping the book closed.

Silence fills the cab of the truck as they make their way to Lakeside Mall. Ziggs feels like they can't breathe. Their hands grip the steering wheel so tightly their knuckles turn white. 

Once the truck comes to a stop in the parking lot, Ziggs lets out a breath they didn't realize they were holding. 

In the passenger seat, Skud looks pale. “We really doing this?”

“Yeah, we are,” Ziggs confirms before opening their door.

They cross the parking lot, Skud close behind them.

When the pair enter the mall, Ziggs frowns. “Where are we going to do this?” They ask quietly as they look around at all the shoppers milling about.

“I dunno,” Skud answers. “Maybe we just walk around and we'll find a place?”

“Sounds good.”

After about ten minutes of trekking through the mall, Ziggs stops, grabbing Skud's arm to jerk him to a halt as well. “What about the Cineplex?”

Skud's eyes dart to the entrance of the theater. “Think that's still considered part of the mall?”

“One way to find out.”

The teenager at the ticket booth doesn't notice them approaching. Behind his glasses, his eyes flutter shut as he leans against the counter, bored.

Ziggs crouches, sneaking past the booth with Skud close behind.

Once they make it into the lobby of the theater, they straighten up again. “So we just pick a theater?” Skud asks as they slip past the empty concession stand.

“Yeah, why not?” Ziggs walks through a large door labeled with a 1, trying to ignore the way their heart hammers in their chest.

The silver screen looms large above them as they enter the theater. Ziggs looks over all the empty seats. “Okay, find that spell.”

“Uh…” Skud flips the book open, pages rustling as he searches for the spell once more. “Here we go: Holding Court with the Void.”

Ziggs leans in, meeting Skud's eyes. “Ready?” They wait for an affirmative nod before they begin to speak. “We invoke the names…”

Shakily, Skud's voice joins theirs, “Pokotho…”

Whispers seem to seep out of the speakers, only getting louder with the next name.

“...Bliklotep… T'noy Karaxis…”

Were the lights that shade of yellow when they entered the theater? Ziggs can't remember.

The next name they only know how to pronounce because they heard Roman Murray say it.

“...Nibblenephim…”

Pink light bathes the pair. Ziggs hears Skud take a sharp breath next to them. Their own voice cracks as they say the last name.

“...Wigogg Y'wrath.”

The lights turn green for the briefest second before the room plunges into darkness. Ziggs grabs Skud's arm, squeezing tightly.

“Did it work?” Skud whispers.

“Hello, friendy-wends.”

The lights flicker back to life, revealing five figures lounging in different spots of the theater. Ziggs and Skud stumble back together in shock, their backs hitting the wall.

“How boring,” one of the figures, dressed in a yellow and orange hoodie and orange cargo pants, with messy yellow hair, says as it fidgets with a yellow cube in its hands. It has its feet propped up on the seat in front of it,  ignoring the pair.

“Now, now, Tinky,” the figure wearing what appears to be a green American Eagle button down with the sleeves rolled up and the collar popped scolds. “We don't know what our paly-wals here want yet.”

Ziggs can hear Skud gulp. 

The sound attracts the green figure. He smiles wide, his teeth appearing razor sharp. He smooths back his perfectly styled dark green hair.

“Never thought I'd see the day,” The figure in a purple sundress with matching purple sunglasses giggles. The figure holds up a cell phone, as if taking a selfie.

“I know,” a figure in a blue beret and leather jacket responds.

“Yes, yes, Johnny’s kid summoning us is very funny,” the green figure says with an amused chuckle.

At the sound of their dad's name, Ziggs swallows. Their eyes dart from figure to figure before landing on the only one who hasn't spoken yet.

The pink beanie on the figure’s head has been pulled down so Ziggs can't see its eyes. Instead, all they can see is a wide, pink mouth that stretches into a hideous smile.

Ziggs’ heart plummets to their stomach. “It was you.”

“Yum yum,” comes the reply, followed by a biting motion in Ziggs’ direction.

“Yes, you saw Nibbly's sacrifice,” the green figure speaks, its emerald eyes glinting.

Ziggs finally finds their voice. “Yeah, what the fuck, man?”

The figures erupt into a chorus of giggles at the response. 

“Is that why you've called us here, Ziggy?” The green figure inquires. Its long fingers wiggle as it crosses its arms.

“How-” Ziggs starts, only to be interrupted.

“Oh, we know all about yours and Scotty’s noble quest to try to find out what happens to the Honey Queen,” the green figure chuckles, “I commend you for coming this far for answers.”

Skud speaks, his voice shaky. “How do we make it stop?”

Manical laughter echoes off the walls of the theater. “Stop? It won't stop,” Nibbly answers.

“Indeed,” the green figure agrees, turning those bright green eyes back on the pair. “If Nibbly doesn't get his sacrifice, he'll consume the whole world. The Honey Queen is doing a service, really. Sacrificing herself to keep the world safe.”

“But she doesn't know she's going to be sacrificed if she wins!” Ziggs argues as they squeeze Skud's arm tighter.

The figure in green shrugs. “So what? You can't stop it, Ziggy. Not unless you want the end of the world on your hands.” It cracks a wide smile. “And I don't think you want that.”

The lights go out once more. When they come back on,  Ziggs and Skud are alone in the theater.

-

That evening, Ziggs and Skud sit on the couch in the farmhouse. The rays of the setting sun filter in through the open windows.

They've been there for hours, silently passing joints back and forth until they've been smoked down to roaches.

Finally, Skud speaks, his voice cracking slightly, “So what do we do now? How do we, like, deal with knowing this happens every year?”

“I say we just forget,” Ziggs answers. “Like your dad said, people go missing in Hatchetfield every day. The Honey Queen is just another one of them.”

“Yeah, but those… Those things we summoned-”

Ziggs cuts him off. “Don't let it eat at you, man.” They reach for the pack of rolling papers on the coffee table, swearing when they find it empty.

Their eyes drift to the book. They reach for it, opening it and tearing out a page.

“What are you doing?” Skud asks, blue eyes filled with fear.

“The paper is thin enough to use for rolling,” Ziggs answers with a shrug as they begin ripping the paper into smaller sheets.

“Do you think that's a good idea?” Skud questions nervously.

Rolling their eyes, Ziggs reaching into a plastic bag to pull out some weed so they can roll the joint. “You're being paranoid, Skud. What's the worst that could happen?”

[2manyfandoms2count]

Back to Life (Back to Reality)

Toxinelle and Griffe Noire really have been living in my head rent free for the past week, I just think they're extremely interesting characters ��� This is more of a character study than an actual fic with a plot, I wanted to get into Toxinelle's head! Maybe I'll revisit their world at some point, I do think it's quite cool to not have a lot of knowledge of what's going on in their world, it's that much more intriguing...

Hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3

---

Back to Life (Back to Reality)

Although the world they entered was the same they’d left behind, crumbling buildings lining the streets she and Griffe Noire had targeted time and time again in their quest to retrieve the Butterfly Miraculous, Toxinelle couldn’t help but notice that it didn’t look quite as hopeless as it had when they’d left it. The rising sun, which only a short time ago she might’ve found obnoxiously bright, pleasantly warmed her cheeks as she came to a halt next to a beaming Hesperia. 

“It’s been an eventful night, hasn’t it?” he commented once Ubiquity landed at his side, the glow of her power receding to reveal Alya Césaire. 

If she’s the other Marinette’s best friend, she can’t be that bad, Toxinelle thought, already considering a strategy to get closer to her at school. 

“I suggest we all take a little time to process what’s happened, and regroup later.” Hesperia smiled, interrupting her mental meanderings before she could overthink anything. “You know where to find us, take your time.” Watching him, Toxinelle found herself realising that she’d never realised how approachable he looked, unlike most adults in her life. And if the other Marinette’s world had seemed better in many ways, she really didn’t envy her for the presence of Monarque in her life; she wasn’t sure who of him or the Supreme was worse, but she liked the idea that she’d have a heroic adult on her side to fight for a better world.

Hesperia extended his hand, a gesture that made Toxinelle realise she was still holding Griffe Noire’s. She cleared her throat as she let go of it, before shaking her ex-opponent’s, who then turned towards her partner— no, that didn’t sound right, was it teammate, that the other Marinette used as a term?… It was probably more accurate. Had somebody asked her earlier that day, she might’ve described their relationship as one of “reluctant allies”, but there had been a shift in their dynamic from the moment they’d positioned themselves against the Supreme, which would have to draw them closer. 

At least she hoped so— it was one thing considering going against him as a team, an entirely different one to face him on her own. She didn’t think she was strong enough for it; not physically, the newfound feeling of health she’d retrieved from the other timeline being just a flicker next to the flame she’d once possessed, before it had all started, but least of all mentally. Not now, anyway.

“See you soon,” the man said, waving as he and his ally made their way back to their base. 

Just like that, Toxinelle found herself standing alone with Griffe Noire in the empty street.

“Bed–, I mean, um… Ladybug? Is that really what I’m supposed to call you now?” the tomcat raised an eyebrow.

“What about you? Have you landed on a good name?” she parried. 

“Hey, at least I was creative with mine, you’re just a– a copycat!” He pointed at her, laughing. It was the first time she heard him laugh genuinely, and she had to admit, it sounded pretty good.

Toxinelle stuck out her tongue at him, hoping it would distract from the blush creeping up her cheeks. She wasn’t entirely sure, but something told her that the thick layer of pale foundation she conscientiously applied every day, and which had until then stuck through her transformation, hadn’t made it back from their journey to the other world. 

“Anyway, what?” she asked rather abruptly, out of habit. She didn’t like that her sharp tone was coming back so quickly. She winced, and quickly added, more softly: “did you want to say?”

“Oh, er, well, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to meet up at some point? To discuss… this.” He gestured vaguely at their surroundings.

Toxinelle thought about what awaited her at home, and the panic that started washing over her made her feel like she was already losing grip on the thin thread of hope the other Marinette had started weaving for her.

“How about now?” she blurted out.

Griffe Noire was speechless for a second, but quickly pulled himself back together with a smirk. “Well, well, well,” he said, “look who can’t get enough of Adrien Agreste now.”

Toxinelle rolled her eyes, feeling her cheeks heat up again. “For someone who’s so gloomy and silent without a mask, you sure are chatty with one on,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

Griffe Noire paled (she noticed now that his make-up had gone during his costume change, too; his complexion was quite nice when it wasn’t painted over) and he cleared his throat. “As if you don’t change your attitude either.”

“I’m sorry, how do you know me again, exactly?” She quirked an eyebrow.

“You’re my baker girl.” He shrugged, looking down and kicking a stray pebble. “I mean, not my baker girl, more like, the baker girl. Or whatever,” he mumbled quickly, blushing.

Toxinelle frowned, racking her brain to remember meeting him. Even without being a fan, she’d still recall serving the famous Adrien Agreste. She probably even would’ve been annoyed by his presence, knowing it would probably bring more people to the bakery, not to buy, but to stalk around in the hope of catching a glimpse of him. People could be so shallow. “You’ve never come inside the shop, though, have you?”

“No,” he admitted. “My bodyguard gets my chouquettes for me.”

“Wow, so you’re really that famous person.” She rolled her eyes.

“Hey, I’d like to see you face crazed fans any time you set foot outside.”

“Not likely to happen.” She walked away. If she shared an interest in fashion with the other Marinette, she clearly didn’t have the same support, or even the same time to dedicate to what she could only describe as her hobby, rather than a more serious career aspiration. And if she didn’t get the practice now… well, she wasn’t sure she’d ever get around to it.

“It’s always you, serving clients at the bakery. Never your parents,” he called out after her.

She turned back towards him, guarded. If he’d noticed that much from just waiting around in a car, who knew what else he’d noticed. “They’re very busy people.”

“And you’re still in school. And a Miraculous holder, even if I guess they don’t know about that. That’s one thing my dad is incredibly annoying about: making sure I don’t overdo it in modelling hours because “I need to lead a normal life”.” Griffe Noire air quoted.

“It’s nice that he cares, though,” Toxinelle let out with a sigh. 

“It’s exhausting, he’s positive all the time .” Griffe Noire threw his hands up. “It’s unnatural, if you ask me.” 

“Oh boo-hoo. He should meet my mother, nothing’s ever good enough for her,” she muttered, immediately regretting her words and the can of worms it might open.

There was a beat of silence, which felt unbearable to her, before Griffe Noire cautiously asked: “Want to talk about it?”

She considered her answer carefully. On the one hand, something told her that talking about what she was going through, the constant pressure of life at home, in some ways feeling more isolated in what should be the comfort of home, never being able to rely on anyone, might help her. Talking to the other Marinette had made some things click inside of her, after all. On the other hand, as much as she wanted to trust that Griffe Noire wasn’t going anywhere, she was afraid to crack the door open if it would just come back slamming I’m her face.

“Not now, if that’s okay,” she finally said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’ll be there when you’re ready.” Griffe Noire nodded. “You know where to find me. If you still want to talk, that is, if you want to be my…” he trailed off, as if looking for the right word.

“Friend?” she suggested, holding out her hand.

“Friend,” he repeated, shaking it, as if tasting the word. His face lit up with a bright smile.

His baton beeped just then, and he looked at her sheepishly. “I think that’s my cue to leave. I’m going to be late for dinner with my father— another thing he’s very peculiar about. But we’ll have to meet again, we didn’t get to discuss our whole situation with the Supreme, Hesperia and everything.” 

“It’s alright, we can set out another moment when I bring you your chouquettes tomorrow.” She smiled.

“Are you really going to turn me into the type of famous person who gets them delivered directly to the window of their car? I would’ve thought you’d despise that.” He winked.

“It’s fine if I’m the one who suggests it.” She laughed. 

“Aright, then, looking forward to it.” He bowed. “See you tomorrow, Bug.”

Toxinelle had to admit that she could hardly wait.

[ninthfeather]

Fandom: DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Harvey Dent, The Tailor (DCU) Additional Tags: fake newspaper article, Fashion & Couture, Zine: Gotham The Centennial Issue, Italian Mafia, POV Outsider, Original Character(s), POV First Person, Present Tense Summary:

An enterprising reporter attempts to ask Two-Face about his wardrobe, and gets significantly more than she bargained for.

Written for Gotham: The Centennial Issue: A Gotham Fashion Zine. 

[seas-of-silver]

"Okay, have a look around."

Thanks, anon! And because your quote didn't have any characters attached to it, I really got to play with this idea, which was a lot of fun! Thanks for sending it in! I hope you like it!

~/~

'Okay, have a look around.'

Harry opened the doors to the Great Hall for the students in front of him, and watched as their eyes widened in awe. Walls and floor of stone were hidden by green rolling hills, a small forest, waterfalls and ragged cliffs.

'Today's combined class is all about focusing on your environment,' Harry announced, leading the gaggle of stunned students into the room, the occasional student having to be herded back to the group by one of the other professors to stop them from wandering off too early. 'Us professors decided that while the classroom environment is all well and good, sometimes seeing and experiencing things in a more practical way helps us remember lessons better.'

He paused, letting the students take in everything, before regaining their attention.

'Now,' he continued, 'there will be multiple components to today's lesson, and each of your professors will explain what you all need to look out for each subject: I, of course, will discuss Defence Against the Dark Arts; Professor Granger-'

He was cut off by a sudden burst of excited giggles from the students as they looked between him and Hermione conspiratorially. The Hogwarts rumour mill was alive and well with whispers of a secret romance between him and his fellow teacher, his best friend, Hermione Jean Granger. For once, the rumours were right, but neither of them were going to confirm anything, taking amusement in the students' lack of subtlety as they tried to get them to confirm the rumours; some of them were very creative in their methods...and Hermione wasn't one to stifle creativity.

'Professor Granger,' he repeated, 'will cover Transfiguration; Professor Longbottom will talk about Herbology; and Professor Flitwick will explain Charms. And, to help us out later in the class, we have a special guest instructor.'

The children all gasped and started murmuring amongst themselves, and he let them speculate for a moment before gaining their attention once again.

'We are very lucky to have with us today... Auror Ronald Weasley,' said Harry, who fought the impulse to turn to where Ron was hiding under his invisibility charm in favour of watching the students' reaction as he revealed himself; they did not disappoint. Gasps, squeals and awe-struck exclamations filled the air, and Harry could practically feel Ron preen under the attention. Harry had never been one for the fame and the spotlight, but that didn't mean he wouldn't prevent Ron from having his moment to shine.

'Yes, it's very exciting to have Auror Weasley present,' Harry conceded with a chuckle, but we still have a class to learn from, so pay attention and grab out your notebooks.'

As the students all scrambled for their notebooks, Harry greeted Ron with a grin and stole a glance at the ring on Ron's finger. The war had a profound impact on everyone, including friend and classmate, Lavender Brown. Being on the verge of death awakened a more mature side of her, and her terrifying interaction with Fenrir Greyback drove her to go on a deep dive investigation into werewolves after her extensive recovery at St. Mungo's. Her investigation led her to requesting information from the Auror department, where she reunited with Ron. They worked together for months, and their relationship rekindled and bloomed over time, leading to their marriage last month. Harry had never seen Ron happier than he was that day.

'Starting with Defence,' Harry began, once all the students were ready, 'I want you guys to observe the terrain and think about: how it can be used to your advantage in a fight; what are the pros and cons to each environment; what creatures might inhabit these environments; what spells would work best for you in each environment; and what non-magical skills or actions could be beneficial in each environment.'

Harry waited patiently for them all to write down his instructions before he passed it over to Hermione. He couldn't help but watch how she lit up as she gave her brief to the students. Over the years he had known her, he had come to love how she would become delightfully animated when she learned something new, how she puffed up with giddy pride when she got the chance to share the knowledge she possessed to others, how her eyes would sparkle when someone asked her a tough question, and how moved she would get when a student grew under her tutelage. She had really grown into a most wonderful woman, and Harry was helpless to do anything other than admire her.

'So, when are you going to pop the question?' Ron muttered from beside him. Harry elbowed him.

'Don't let the kids hear you,' he murmured in response, keeping a keen eye out for any distracted students that may have overheard that damning comment. 'If they hear it, I'll never hear the end of it - many of them would probably volunteer to help plan it out.'

'I don't see what the issue is,' Neville teased, eyes glinting with mischief behind an innocent facade. 'I thought you wanted your proposal to Hermione to be a big flashy event.'

'Betrayal,' Harry hissed, mock glaring at his friend, causing Ron and Neville to snicker at his reaction.

'Leave Harry be,' Filius lightly admonished, before smirking. 'Oh Harry, I thought I'd let you know that Irma has granted you and Hermione access to the library after hours on Saturday, but asks you kindly keep any candles and rose petals away from the books.'

Harry grimaced at the way Ron and Neville got boisterous, cheering and slapping his back good-naturedly, but had to stifle his grin when his friends froze at the impeccable glare Hermione sent them for disrupting her, just like the old days. He could still sense her curiosity about what caused the reaction, but her curiosity would have to wait for three days more, and once she knew, he hoped she’d answer with “yes”.

~/~

Ask game: Give me the first sentence and I'll write a short piece for it!

[lukas-dark-miracles]

What and Odd Pair || Xóchitl & Lukas

LOCATION: The Wormhole TIMING: Current PARTIES: Xóchitl (@vanishingreyes) & Lukas (@lukas-dark-miracles) SUMMARY: Xóchitl, while being ignored by the bartender finds a friend in Lukas. The two of them have a nice conversation. CONTENT WARNINGS: alcoholism tw

Lukas had taken to being at bars and things at night after his community meetings, mostly to keep himself outside and away from his Angel. It was getting worse, to be around her and it was much easier just to excuse himself into the world. So, despite the angels of his better nature he was sat at another bar hoping that whatever this period of time was would move quicker now. 

He wasn’t alone though, people around him as he tried to think of ideas and philosophies that might make himself feel better, they still had their own lives and problems. Without thinking he started noticing them, and without thinking noticed there was a younger woman next to him, who was seemingly being passed over as the bartender handled drinks. So, without much thought he caught the man’s eye. 

“Hm - oh Bartender I believe she would like to order when you have a minute. Please,” Lukas said nodding to the young woman he thought might have wanted to get herself a drink. Turning slightly to her he said, “Sorry for interfering. I just noticed he’d passed a few times and I fear I might have blocked his view of you.” 

___

Bars were a sort of second home for her. Not that Xóchitl would ever admit that – at least not to anybody except for Emilio, but that was because he understood her, and they were some sort of friends, even if it was complicated for either of them to entirely admit. Which made sense, but still – bars were comforting, and Xóchitl was self-aware enough to know that that wasn’t the best route of thinking.

Tonight, however, she was exceedingly frustrated as the bartender seemed to be ignoring her. Xóchitl didn’t like to think of herself as completely self-absorbed, but she also knew, from multiple data points, that she wasn’t someone people passed over, especially not in bars. Which might have been a part of why she liked them so much – the guarantee of surface level attention and validation of her looks.

Thankfully, though, that was short-lived when someone else stepped in to help. “No sorries needed,” Xóchitl turned her body to face the owner of the voice, crossing her legs and offering a smile of gratitude. “Your height isn’t something you should be sorry for, he also might’ve just not noticed me, for whatever reason.” Her lips formed a quick pout. “Maybe I’ll have to have whatever it is that you’re having.”

___

Lukas and bars were always a weird dichotomy but well - it hadn’t been exactly off limits when he was alive, and now that he was undead it felt the closest to a neutral place he still had access too. Besides, it was a good way to talk to others, to remind himself to be a little bit more human in nature. 

Lukas  gave the woman a light smile and nod happy to interfere and honestly get the bartender’s eyes off of himself. He was still unsure who was hunters in the area - and while he would like to think that the other man was just trying to hit on him, he wasn’t quite sure. Still he leaned back a little and said, “I will take that into consideration, but I am sorry about that too. You shouldn’t be ignored.”

 There was a bit of a nervous chuckle, as Lukas looked back at his own drink, “I’m having a whiskey neat, if you would like that. I’m not super adventurous.” 

___

“I’ll get plenty of attention some other way, later.” Xóchitl offered him a sly grin, though she also knew there were any number of other reasons why he could be playing so nice, and also maybe she wasn’t his type. Which she respected, even if sometimes it disappointed her.

She knew she couldn’t be everyone’s type, and though she relished in her apparent skill to take on what was most appealing to others whenever she could, Xóchitl also had come to acknowledge that maybe she did need to just chill and develop relationships normally, without jumping straight into flirting. Because – and she thought to Emilio, to Jade, to Siobhan – as fun as it was to have benefits of them, she’d gone and gotten fond of the friend side. More than she’d expected, more than she’d ever wanted to let herself. And then there were, of course, people like Metzli and like Leti, back when she’d been in town, who had never been romantic, but who she treasured deeply.

“I like most things.” To a fault, but he didn’t have to know that. “Whiskey neat sounds perfect.”

___

“I have no doubt,” Lukas said with a smile and a chuckle. She reminded him of someone but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe someone he had known when he had still been alive. Not wanting to dwell on it though instead nodding at the idea and said to the bartender who he saw the nametag of , “Two, then John - if you would please. On my tab.” It only felt proper, and if he was to going to be honest the other seemed like she would be interesting to talk too. 

If nothing else, Lukas wanted to talk to someone and not feel like something was hanging in the balance. The other seemed to be able to do that. 

Leaning back in his stool he took down the rest of his own drink, something that wasn’t very hard to do and there wasn’t a whole lot left. It was something that was strange about his - condition- but not unwelcome. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. Hello, I’m Lukas.” 

___

“Well, that is something of a comfort.” Xóchitl let her smile reach her eyes without hesitation, because it was comforting, and the man was easy to talk to (though she found most people relatively easy to talk to). And he was paying, which was never ever a bad sign. Not that she couldn’t afford any of it herself, but there was a certain incredible satisfaction in having someone else pay for you.

It would allow her to not be alone – not that being at a bar ever meant she was alone, but actually talking to someone was always preferable to just sitting by her lonesome.

“I’m Xóchitl,” she stuck out her hand, ready to shake his, if that was something he found favorable to do, though if not, she could easily flip her hand around and brush it through her hair, pretending like that was what she’d intended to do in the first place. “What brings you here?”

___

Lukas chuckled wondering who the younger reminded him of. Perhaps a friend who had blurred into his mind now. He hardly looked older than Xóchitl, and if he was being very fair even if he had still been human he very much could still be alive. So it was always a little odd to him how memories had started to blur together.Still, the friend had been someone he had liked, and he liked the other’s company as well. In the end, wasn’t that what mattered? 

“Lovely name,” Lukas said with an easy smile shaking the other’s hand, careful to use the one that had been holding the glass - a new trick he had been using, to disguise the fact that his hands were cold. He had figured out through the group, that he was a different temperature now. He could have guessed it, but since his Sire’s hands were the same temperature as his and he had so rarely interacted with humans before it hadn’t occurred to him. “And a pleasure to meet you. I’m afraid I don’t have a big grand reason why I’m here. Just a nice change of pace. How about you?” 

___

“Thanks, though I didn’t give it to myself, obviously.” Xóchitl shrugged, “but I like having pretty things, and I suppose that all started when I was born, thanks to my name. His hands shaking hers were cold, but he had just put down his glass, and Mateo ran cold as it was, so it wasn’t anything she’d ever mind, even though she did much prefer the warmth.

“I like bars,” Xóchitl figured there was no reason to be anything but honest, and she wasn’t sure what else to say. It didn’t hurt to be honest. “No worries,” she nodded, “though I just wanted to check, to see and make sure if there was something worth celebrating.” She held her hands up before reaching for her glass. “Wild guess… you don’t normally go out to bars, do you?”

___

“Fair, but I think it suits you. Not every name suits everyone that get it. Your parents chose well,” Lukas said softly. His had been mistaken in the end. Lukas meant light after all, and he hardly was that. Nor was he very much like the apostle Luke either, although perhaps if he was lucky enough it might end up fitting him in the end.  The trick with the glass  seemed to have worked well enough, she wasn’t staring at him in horror or anything so negative. He’d have to use that more often. 

Lukas nodded and after a moment just chuckled. “No nothing to celebrate and you caught me this is a more recent phenomena.” After all, he hadn’t needed to escape so much when he had been a human. When he did, the gardens were lovely and he rather be near the Church. Now, well there weren’t many places he could stay all night other than bars and the odd cafe. It didn’t hurt to sit here and talk to people at the very least. “How could you tell? I’m usually pretty good at blending into my surroundings.” 

____

“My parents chose well with a lot of things,” the wonderful thing about strangers was how easy it was to push away and ignore any of her negative thoughts or less favorable past. This man - Lukas - didn’t know anything about her, and because of that, she could be anybody she wished to be. Not that Xóchitl had the intentions of trying to fool him, but she could be the best version of herself, and that was more than enough. “But thanks. I’ll be sure to tell them.” Her smile wasn’t even mostly fake, because any excuse to talk about her moms was always worth it.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul, and I’m just good at figuring things out. You wouldn’t know that you’re not accustomed to bars at first glance to most.” Which might’ve been charitable, but Xóchitl was feeling rather charitable this evening, and even if she wasn’t going home with this man, he was still a wonderful distraction from any of the number of thoughts twisted up inside her head. “I’m a psychologist, and I spent a lot of my childhood watching, so I like to think I’m good at figuring people out. Like… so.” She pointed to a couple in the corner. “First date, they like each other both fairly equally, but she –” Xóchitl pointed to the brunette, “is nervous to do any sort of big conversations, and she –” Xóchitl pointed to the red-head, “is overly excitable and probably hasn’t been on a date in like, at least five years.” She turned back to face Lukas. “I’ll do someone else. I could tell you who finds me hot, or who I might ask home?” 

___

Lukas nodded, thinking of his own parents for a moment wondering if they chose well. They probably hadn’t. His mom would at least be terrified of him now he was fairly sure of that. Still that wasn’t neither here nor there. He smiled and responded, “You should.” 

He raised an eyebrow and chuckled, taking a sip of the whiskey Lukas could hardly taste. “Well good then. I would hardly like to be that odd, you know.” At the idea of a psychologist he was curious. He was fairly observant as a person, but he didn’t think he could know that much about a person at a glance. Normally he had to talk to them. “Impressive. I think you’re probably right,” Lukas said eyes flickering over to couple noticing a hint of something that reminded him of Her. Something unnatural that felt like a shadow across the woman’s eyes. He steadied himself on that though, not knowing for sure if she wasn’t just haunting him. The other woman should be fine. At the question he laughed with genuine surprise. “Sure. That would be fascinating. I’ve never been very good at that myself.” 

____ 

“I will.” He seemed the sort to take enjoyment in knowing that someone would do something he’d asked. It was just a hunch, but Xóchitl liked to think that she had a good handle on these kinds of things. Besides, she did plan to talk to her moms soon, and it was easy enough to bring up in casual conversation.

“Well, you aren’t odd.” At least not too odd, but she kept that particular thought all to herself. Xóchitl grinned. “I like to think I am right, but at the risk of sounded totally stuck up, I’ll just smile and thank you. We can forget my admitting just how delightful it is to be right and how often I am.” She grinned, hoping he knew that she was at least mostly joking. “Okay, well he,” she pointed to a guy just down the bar from them, “thinks I’m hot, but I’m not going home with him. He’s conservative, you can tell that from how he brushes his hair. She,” Xóchitl began, pointing to a blonde sitting at a table by herself, “also does, and she’s a good candidate, if she’s down for that. There’s others two, but those are the two immediate ones. Our bartender thinks you’re cute, and so does that guy just now sitting down. The one with the bourbon.”

___

He nodded and chuckled at the idea he wasn’t odd. He might not raise a lot of fear in people but most people did find him a bit odd. Lukas didn’t look quite human anymore. It was understandable even if it hurt him. 

He laughed and nodded, “I think that is actually the smartest course of action.” His voice was light, understanding a joke they were both in on. At her descriptions he glanced over at the other people and nodded, thinking that she was very good at this. He wasn’t expecting her to inturn tell him who thought he was cute sipping his drink he choked a little. He knew the bartender, but he hadn’t noticed the other guy. He laughed and shook his head, “Unfortunately for the both of them - I do have a boyfriend. You have a real skill. And, I believe I can do you a favor - and move so that woman can buy you a drink and you can see if you want to go home with her. She is, in fact, staring daggers at me now.” 

Lukas chuckled,  leaning to get John’s attention to check out. “Now John, just because I’m gone don’t miss her needing another drink alright? I’ll be very upset if you do.” It was teasing and light even as he went down the rest of his drink. “Have a good night, Xóchitl. I hope we meet again.” 

___

His chuckle made her smile, and Xóchitl found herself wildly grateful for the pure random happenstance that and brought the two of them together this evening.

Except that he choked on his drink for a moment, and she wondered if she’d made a step too far. But he was just surprised, she was pleased to notice. Surprising him had been her intent, afterall, and so Xóchitl checked another box off in considering this night a win for her. “It is unfortunate, but you know, good for you. I should’ve figured you would be the sort to have someone all your own. Never mind her own complicated feelings about being someone’s, or having someone all her own, but that was a spiral for another time. “She does seem rather perturbed that you’re taking up all my company,” Xóchitl turned and raised an eyebrow at the woman, nodding toward the bar counter. “I’ll let her get me a drink, and I’ll make sure John here behaves. I hope you have a good night too, Lukas. I’m sure we will meet again.”

[luci-in-the-stars]

Crystallization|| Cass & Luci

TIMING: Late August/ Pre Goo LOCATION: Near the mines PARTIES: @luci-in-the-stars & @magmahearts SUMMARY: Luci goes to explore the odd crystals everyone has been talking about. Cass, wanting to make sure Luci isn't there to hurt the mines goes and has a chat. CONTENT WARNING: Slight Sibling death tw (mentioned)

Luci was excited to see the mines, a place a lot of people seemed pretty adamant that she shouldn’t be around. Still, no one had technically said that she couldn’t go to the mines. They said that she shouldn’t, that they were dangerous, and that she would easily get sweeped in whatever was happening in town. While she had noted that in her new notebook - one that she hoped matched the crystals people were talking about - it wasn’t really compelling for her not to go see it. 

After all, she was just observing and hardly interacting with the crystals so she had waited until after her last class and had carefully moved towards   the mines. Her eyes wide as she went towards the cave, she carefully noted down everything that she saw her notes rushing out of her. The earth here looked odd, but not unlike something that could be possible. The crystals that seemed to grow out of the ground in a very un crystalike way seemed so pretty - and part of her did want to touch one. Still, before she could even consider how to do that safely she heard a rustling and turned. 

“Oh -Hello, are you looking at the crystals too?” Luci said a slight smile on her face as she considered the other not at all phased.  “I was warned not to touch them though, so  - I guess I’ll pass that on to you.” 

__

The lines between her cave and the mines seemed blurrier, as of late. It was as if the cave wanted her in the mines, somehow; often, a passageway that hadn’t led to the mines one day would spit her out inside them the next. It was strange, but Cass didn’t question it. The cave wanted what it wanted, and she’d never been one to argue with it. Who was she to disagree with the Earth itself, after all? If she was supposed to be in the mines, there was a reason for it. There was always a reason.

And today, the reason made itself clear pretty quickly.

The girl looked to be about her age, if not a few years younger. She had a curious expression on her face, one Cass had seen on her own reflection more than once. There was a notebook in her hands — a pretty purple, like the crystals growing from the ground. She didn’t seem malicious, the way people around here often did. There was nothing offputting about the way she moved, nothing scary about it. And that was nice, wasn’t it? It might mean she was friendly.

Cass moved forward a little, letting the few leaves that had already fallen to the ground in the early September air rustle beneath her feet just a little to alert the other girl to her presence. The girl turned with a smile, and Cass offered one back. “Hi,” she greeted. “I’m not looking at anything specific. Just looking. Whoever warned you about that was right, though — the crystals are kind of dangerous.” Only dangerous in the way wild animals were. They’d leave you alone if you didn’t encroach on their space. “Did you come here just to see them?”

—

Luci looked at the other, finding a friendly enough face that she wasn’t on guard. While Milo kept warning her about how dangerous the town was - and that was a fact she could believe- she also found that people had been generally nice to her. Still, she had to be careful. 

It was a bit hard though, when she thought she might be able to make a friend. It was a tear in her now. She hadn’t wanted friends as badly as she wanted them now, and part of her wondered if it was the loneliness she felt when - . Luci stopped the train of thought and instead focused on writing down her last observation of the purple crystal before she had talked to the other. Then turning more of her attention to the other she tried to not be rude, although there was still the allure of the crystal in the corner of her eye. 

“Oh I am too. The nature here is fascinating - I’ve never seen anything like it.” Luci nodded slightly at the idea that they were dangerous, but part of her did think they were awfully pretty for the danger they had. “Yeah - I knew he’d be right about that. He’s usually right about dangerous things. Still, I wanted to see them, you know? Kind of like looking over an edge of a cliff. It’s not necessarily dangerous, but it could be.” She didn’t know if that made much sense. 

At the other’s question Luci nodded slightly, “Yeah, I wanted to see what they looked like in what I assumed was where they naturally grew. Are you here on a walk then? Since you aren’t looking for anything specific?” 

__

There was an air of caution about her, and that was probably a good thing. Cass knew that there were people in this town who took advantage of others often. Depending on the day, she was one of them. She had a bad habit of binding people to fend off her own insecurities, and while the desire to do so ebbed and flowed with her mood, it had been strong since the last full moon. She didn’t understand why, but she knew she needed to be careful, and needed other people to be careful of her.

Luckily, this girl seemed to get the memo, at least on some level. And she wasn’t trying to touch the gem, which was a good thing. Cass couldn’t shake the image of Nora transforming into the crystalized version of herself, even now. She still ached with it, sometimes.

She perked up a little at the mention of nature. The girl wasn’t a nymph — Cass would have felt it if she were — but talking about nature, even with people who weren’t fae, was a fun activity. One of her favorite hobbies was talking about and experiencing nature with Alex, after all. “You like nature? What kinds do you know the most about?” If she’d never seen anything like this, that implied that she did know things about other topics, right? “He? Who’s ‘he?’” The person who’d warned her about the crystals, presumably, but Cass wanted details. She was nosy like that.

“They grow all over, but they’re easier to find near the mines,” she confirmed. “Some have popped up in buildings, right up from under the floorboards. Can you believe that? It’s been driving people crazy.” She grinned. “Oh, I just live nearby. Are you new to town?” A quick subject change in the interest of preventing the girl from thinking too hard about the fact that there weren’t exactly any houses near here.

—

Luci found the other’s presence welcomed, something that she had found more and more at Wicked Rest, which she couldn’t seem to place why. Back at home, it had gotten to the point that she didn’t see any presence as especially welcoming - more like eyes that were watching her uncomfortably close. Here though, even the stranger seemed to be observing her without question or intrusion. It felt more like curiosity than anything else. 

At the question Luci’s eyes followed back to the other, mostly not to be rude as she considered the question. “Oh I like nature a lot. I know probably most about chemical structures of stuff - that’s what I’m studying - but I really like stars. So one of those two I would guess. I could probably tell you what compounds the rocks are - not the crystal though I wouldn’t know that and I don’t want to take any to figure it out - oh It’s also really nice to be here with all the trees and things, but I can’t say I know much about that.” She was rambling somewhat, intrigued by how the question was asked and how it could be interpreted. She found that she didn’t always get questions that made her pause and think. “Oh my brother. His name is Milo and he’s been here for longer,” Luci said with a nod, picturing Milo now frowning at her for going too close to the crystals. She pushed up her glasses, knocking the picture out of her head. She was being careful after all, and science slept for no one. 

While she didn’t want to answer anything about Milo her curiosity was piqued by the idea of how the crystals grew. “Oh! That is fascinating. Wow little guys you’re doing an excellent job spreading,” Luci said admittedly to the crystal before figuring that might be odd. “I mean crystals don’t normally grow that way, it must be something about them that’s making them do so. - People are going crazy? How so?” Luci said, catching up to what Cass had said and being a little concerned wondering if there was something in the crystal doing that. If that was the case, she really shouldn’t touch it. While the little spellcaster was careful, there was something wrong with her magic and she could only imagine what an Alchemist could do if they weren’t in control. Still she didn’t move from where she was, not wanting in some respects for the crystal to think she was suddenly mad at it. “Oh that must be nice. Yes I just got into town when the semester started.” 

—

She studied chemical structures… Did that mean she went to the college? Cass wondered if she knew Aria or Alex or her other friends at the university. “Oh, I don’t need you to tell me what compounds the rocks are. I already know.” She sounded cheerful, the statement more of a matter of fact than it was anything else. Normally, she might not have been quite as open, especially not now that she’d learned about wardens, who would attack her just for being who she was. But the girl didn’t seem anything at all like a threat. She was nice. She liked nature and she went to college. Cass didn’t think someone like that would ever hurt her.

And then she was continuing, talking about her brother, and Cass perked up. “Wait, Milo? I know a Milo!” It was a common enough name that she wouldn’t immediately jump to the conclusion that it was the same Milo, but this girl did look like him a little bit. “About… this tall?” She held a hand up to indicate Milo’s stature. “I don’t think I know his last name, but we’re friends. We kind of run in the same crowds, I guess.” She wasn’t sure if she should mention what, to her, was Milo’s most defining characteristic. If his sister didn’t know about his magic, Cass wouldn’t out him. And if this girl wasn’t his sister and was just some stranger with a brother who happened to share Milo’s name, she definitely wouldn’t risk outing him. Bad enough that she’d exposed Mack as a zombie in front of her entire party. She didn’t want to do anything like that again, not ever. 

“They grew fast, too. Not there one day, then all over the next,” Cass added, because the other girl seemed interested and Cass liked to talk. She didn’t understand the crystals the way she understood the rocks — there was something undeniably off about them — but she still appreciated them, respected them. And so did this stranger. “Oh, you know,” she replied with a shrug. “Some people touch them and then try to drag people into the mines. Or get really emotional, I think.” She didn’t mention the crystal monsters, the way Teddy and Nora had both transformed into stranger versions of themselves. It didn’t feel like her place. “So I definitely wouldn’t go touching any. Milo was right to tell you not to.” So she did go to college. “My girlfriend goes to school here,” she said, “and some of my friends. Maybe you’ll meet them, too.”

—

At the comment Luci’s eyes grew a little wider with excitement and before she could stop herself she said, “You do? That’s awesome! I mean - I think it’s cool at least.” She wanted to admonish herself for being overly enthusiastic to a person she didn’t know. She normally was better at this, being a degree unattached with people to make sure she knew what was going on, but it got harder when it was subjects she liked. “I like figuring them out. It’s like a little secret, you know? Do you know the geology around here then?” 

At the mention of knowing Milo, Luci looked at her again curious if it was the same person. “Oh - I mean he lives here. My brother’s around that height yeah. Usually wearing a beanie? Has a septum piercing and probably says dude more than the average person?” At the mentions that the other might be friends with her brother - or at least somewhat connected Luci was even more curious. She’d known his friends back home and it hadn’t been odd, but well she hadn’t looked too much to who he had been talking to here in Wicked’s Rest. It felt invasive, and like he probably didn’t want her to know. So she’d stuck to just figuring out where he lived and left it at that - hoping that maybe it wouldn’t be weird in town. “ He’s got tattoos too  if that helps. Oh my last name is de la Vega.” 

She wanted to ask more. If the Milo she knew was happy here. She had to assume if they were at least friendly he had at least gotten friends, but it was a black box. Her last talk with him hadn’t been the best, and she hadn’t gotten to ask if he’d felt better here despite his obvious fear of the place. Still, Luci shook her head knowing that if Cass did know him that it would be weird to tell Luci about it. 

Pulling her attention from talk of her brother back to the crystals she carefully wrote what Cass mentioned. “Huh. That is interesting. That doesn’t sound like any crystal I know, but to be fair there’s a lot in this town I never knew about. I wonder what you want with all those people,” Luci mused a little to the crystal. She should be afraid of it, and part of her was the same part that was scared of thunder and a semi truck rushing by but mostly she was fascinated. “Sounds kind of like a venus flytrap but as a crystal,” She said looking back at the other wondering what she thought. “Oh that’s cool! I just started so I doubt I have yet, but I’m hoping to meet more people this semester. 

____

The girl’s smile was bright and her excitement was palpable and Cass decided that she was going to do anything and everything in her power to make sure the two of them became friends because she liked that. So many people were afraid to get excited about things, as if opening yourself up to excitement was opening yourself up to disappointment. And that was true, sometimes… but not always. People needed to remember that. She really wished they would. “It is kind of like a secret,” she agreed. “I know a lot about geology everywhere. It’s a… hobby.” She might not suspect the other girl of anything malicious, but she also knew better than to just state that she was fae. Even if the girl wasn’t a threat, she might not know about the supernatural. Learning like this could make her afraid, and Cass didn’t want her to be afraid. People didn’t usually become friends with people they were afraid of, did they? 

Her description of Milo did sound like the Milo Cass knew. The tattoos, the piercing, the beanie. Wasn’t his last name de la Vega, too? Cass couldn’t remember, but it certainly sounded right, so she nodded with a grin. “I’m pretty sure we’re talking about the same Milo, then! That’s awesome. I like Milo, he’s really cool. And you’re really cool, too, so I guess it runs in the family!” She’d never really heard Milo talk about his family before, but she’d always assumed it was because he knew she didn’t have a family to talk about in return. Milo wasn’t the type to want to hurt anyone’s feelings with things like that, intentionally or otherwise. 

Something seemed to cross over Luci’s face, a shadow there and gone so quickly that Cass couldn’t be sure she’d seen it at all. She wouldn’t pry, of course; the last thing she wanted was to turn Luci off of the idea of friendship before it had even really taken hold. It was something they could talk about later, if all went well here. If Luci decided that she was a friend worth having, if Cass didn’t slip up and make the other girl realize that she was probably more trouble than she was worth, they could have all kinds of conversations later.

But for right now, Cass really wanted to talk about rocks. And Luci seemed to want the same thing so, hey, everybody won!

Luci mentioned that there was a lot she didn’t know about the town, and Cass wondered if that meant she knew there was something beneath the surface of it. “I think… The crystals are a Wicked’s Rest Weird thing. If you know what I mean.” A good way to test the waters; a vague implication that could be taken as nothing if Luci was unaware of Wicked’s Rest’s unusual quirks, but something she’d likely understand if she did know about the town’s underbelly. “It is kind of like a venus flytrap.” It was a good analogy, Cass thought. Hesitantly, she added, “I could tell you their names. My friends. That way if you meet them, you’d know. It might help you make friends a little easier?” Because making friends was hard, especially in a new place. Cass knew that firsthand. 

—

Luci nodded along wondering why it was a secret but knowing how she was overly protective of her hobbies too. “Wow, that's so cool. I hope one day I know some of the stuff around here. Well almost anywhere really. There’s just so much out there you know? ” Luz said, fully honest and curious here eyes thinking of all the things she could ask and know. It wasn’t necessarily for anything other than the want to know it. So while the phrasing of who she was hoping would be a new friend was odd she didn’t push it instead thinking that later she might ask if she could help her identify some of the other types of rocks in the area. 

Luci’s excitement grew knowing that the other did know her brother. It was oddly comforting, something that she wasn’t quite sure she could put into words to know that he had seemingly been friendly with other people. She’d been worried when he left especially when his friends hadn’t said anything about talking to him. Still she giggled a little at the notion of either of them being cool, “Oh that’s very nice - sorry I don’t think anyone’s ever called me cool before.” She would same the same about her brother - but she was fairly sure that would be considered mean. That and - she did think he was cool. “I’m glad you know him though, I was hoping he made friends when he moved here. He uh - wasn’t super talkative about anything but you’re really nice so I’m glad.”  

At the notion that they were a local thing Luci tilted her head back down to look again at the fascinating little crystal. “Local then? That’s super interesting. There must be something in this town that’s causing them to react this way. Poor buddy, you must want something.” She was lost in thought for a moment, wondering if the crystals were a symptom of something more. Were the mines sick? It struck her as something akin to worry as she wanted to help. At the words of Cass she switched her focus back to her and said, “ Oh! I mean if they would be okay with that I’m always interested in meeting other nice people. I’d love to at least introduce myself.” 

She didn’t point out the fact most of the people she had met at the school weren’t - exactly nice to her. Ingrid, her roommate had made it very clear she didn’t like Luci and she wasn’t quite sure about most of the others. It didn’t exactly bother her, but she would like to meet others. 

—

“Definitely a lot out there. Most people don’t realize that, you know? People think a rock is a rock, and that there’s no difference between one or another. And they’re, like, so wrong. Like, couldn’t be more wrong. But they don’t want to listen when you tell them that.” But not Luci. Luci was different. Her thirst for knowledge reminded Cass a little of herself, in a way. For years, Cass had clung to every fact she’d learned about humanity and held it close like a security blanket, like something to cling to. She’d had so few people to help her along the way before coming to Wicked’s Rest, and it had made things harder. Having people, she’d learned, made all the difference. So if Luci wanted to learn about rocks… Cass could be that person for her. Could help her. She could make a difference, too. 

It was surprising, the idea that no one had ever called Luci cool before. Because she was. Cass had only known her for, like, two seconds, and she could already see that. “Then people are stupid,” she replied confidently. “You’re really cool. I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t mean it. I don’t lie.” Not directly, at least. And not about this. “Yeah. He’s got a few friends here in town, I think. He’s been to a few parties I’ve been at, too.” Granted, most of those parties ended with things like people eating soap or falling to their temporary deaths, but they were still parties. They counted.

Ah. The way she said ‘local thing’ seemed to confirm that she wasn’t quite as ‘in the know’ as Cass had hoped. That was okay. It just meant Cass had to be a little careful what she said. The last thing she’d want to do was scare Luci off, to make her not want to be friends with her anymore. If she knew Cass wasn’t human, especially when she might not know currently that ‘not human’ things existed at all… well, that could be bad. Cass didn’t want bad. “I can give you their information,” she said, quickly steering the subject away from the crystals. “I know Alex and Aria — that’s my girlfriend and my best friend — would definitely both want to meet you. They both take classes there.”

—

“Oh yes. I always find that people don’t actually know that much about rocks really. They are much more likely to think they are all the same, which they aren’t. I’d love to hear about how different they are actually, ” Luci said happily. There was something about the mystery of nature that had always fascinated her, and now that she was closer to it she realized how little she actually did know. There was a hunger there, to be a witness to it, and to learn the rules. 

Luci blinked for a second before laughing, at the idea that other people were stupid for thinking she wasn’t cool. “Sorry I’m not laughing at you, I’m just thinking about my roommates face if you said that to her. She’d probably gawk, it would be a little funny.” Luci never considered herself cool, but she wasn’t about to argue with the other either. “That’s good. I’m glad he’s a very social person.” It wasn’t a lie - out of the two of them Milo definitely liked being around groups of people more than Luz - but well she didn’t know how much of that was just in comparison to herself. 

She turned away from the crystals now excitedly turning the page to write down some names of people who - well might think she was worth having around. It was strange to consider as it wasn’t something she’d ever thought about before, but lately Luci realized maybe she should try. It hadn’t been fun after Gen was gone - and well maybe it would have been a little better if she had people around her. “Oh I think I know someone named Ariadne? Is that Aria? She’s really nice. Okay - I will for sure say hi to either of them if I see them.”  

__

It was like being seen. Cass’s grin was one full of excitement, and she nodded so adamantly that her neck hurt a little with the force of it. “Right! They’re not the same at all. I could tell you about some of them. If you want, we can go rock hunting, and I can tell you all the differences.” It wasn’t something she’d ever really gotten a chance to do before Wicked’s Rest, but now? Alex cared about the rocks she found. So did Aria, and Wynne, and now Luci. It was enough to make her feel like she could vibrate through the ground sometimes, the excitement thick and sweet like candy on her tongue. 

Luci laughed, and Cass found it hard not to laugh along with her. She had a contagious sort of laugh, the kind that made you want to join in. “I could tell her,” she offered. “Let me follow you home, I’ll tell her she sucks and you’re great!” It was half a joke, half not. Cass knew firsthand what it was like to live with someone who didn’t want you around, who didn’t even like you. It was a special kind of ache, and Luci didn’t deserve it. “He’s cool,” she replied. “I guess that must run in the family, huh?” Because Luci was cool, too.

She watched Luci write the names down, nodding her head. “Ariadne, yes! I call her Aria for short. She’s great. Her partner, Wynne, they don’t go to school, but they’re really cool, too.” Really, she thought all her friends would think Luci was fun to be around. How could they not? “I’ll tell them you’re cool. Not that they wouldn’t be able to tell themselves if they met you, but, you know.”

—

“Oh I would love that,” Luci said with a grin coming across her own face. She would have asked eventually, she was sure, but the fact that the other had offered meant that she wasn’t already annoyed with the alchemist. There was an excitement coming simply from the idea of being around other people - but also getting to learn more was always the deepest desire of her own heart. “I would be able to notices the differences too - and that’s extremely valuable. I’ve mostly had to learn how to spot different types of rocks from pictures online.” Luci shook her head, a grin still on her lips as she said, “No no - I wouldn’t subject you to her. I’m sure she’ll either calm down or I’ll move out. Either way it’ll end up okay.” It was something she had planned for happening before she moved to college. Her roommate would like her, tolerate her, or hate her and if it was the last option she would just have to move out. It wasn’t what she had hoped, but it wasn’t something unexpected either. “Oh I’m sure it does.” She almost talked about their sister - said that Gen had always been the coolest - but there was a special hurt there that she wasn’t quite sure she was ready to answer. After all, she wasn’t sure how she would feel if Milo hadn’t said anything about Gen. What if Cass didn’t know about her? 

Luci nodded, writing things down, wondering if she’d keep everyone’s names correct and know who was who. The town wasn’t so big - and maybe she’d know a lot of people before the end of the semester. “ Oh okay I’ll write that down too. There’s a lot of people to know already,” Luci said more of a statement than anything else. She was going to make an effort this time to remember though. After all, she needed to try if she wanted to make friends here. Highschool had taught her that much. “Oh - that would be nice,” Luci said looking up and nodding the crystal, not forgotten a little as the allure of knowing people centered her attention. “If it's not weird I can give you my number too. That way if I see any neat rocks I can let you know.” 

—

Luci agreed so readily to the offer, even seeming excited about it, and the warmth that flooded Cass’s chest was both welcome and unfamiliar. She wasn’t used to people reacting positively to her suggestions like this. Before she’d started making friends in this town, no one had ever been interested in the concept of hunting for rocks. It was hard to blame them, really; most of her life had been spent surrounded by homeless kids like herself, and they tended to have bigger things on their minds. They didn’t want to hunt for rocks when they didn’t know where their next meal was coming from. Still… it felt nice to be accepted. “Really? That’s definitely valuable!” Of course, Cass was plenty capable of telling rocks apart herself, but it was rare that she met someone who cared enough about them to do research. 

She hummed, nodding her head. “There’s lots of places to live in town.” She might have offered a space in her cave if she hadn’t been so afraid of rejection, of risking this newfound companionship that was only just starting to bloom. She didn’t love the idea of sharing her space, but it would be nice to not be lonely all the time. But Luci, like most people who weren’t oreads, would likely prefer a more… traditional living situation. Something with a lock on the door and a bathroom. 

Cass watched Luci scribble away in her notebook, marveling at the feeling of someone caring so much what you had to say that they actually made an effort to document it so that it wouldn’t be forgotten. “Have you met a lot of people in town? I know a lot of them, so I can totally tell you who’s cool and who’s not. Like, the dude who works at the BMV? He stinks.” She’d need to find a way to subtly warn Luci against being bound by that particular guy if she could. It was hard to bite back a grin at the mention of exchanging numbers, and Cass bounced excitedly on her heels. “I’d really like that, actually. You could text me about other things, too. If you wanted.”

—

Luci nodded at the really her mind already working on what she could ask the other about rocks. While she wasn’t always sure about most interactions with others - worried about mis-stepping here or there - asking questions and listening is something she was good at. It was simple, and most of the time her curiosity wanted to know anyway even outside the potentiality to make a friend. 

Luci agreed with another little nod, something that was a bit more unsure than her excitement of rock hunting. “I’m sure.” She wanted desperately after all to prove she could be an adult. If she was one, then her brother wouldn’t have a reason to hide things from her. Still, it wasn’t exactly easy either. Usually if she was confused or needed help she would have asked her aunt or either siblings. Now - well her aunt didn’t exactly know that much about Wicked’s Rest - and she was desperately trying to show Milo she was self reliant. Still, she was sure if she had to rent a place she could figure out how to go about it online. 

“No not too many other people in my classes - I also guess Milo, but well I met him pretty shortly after I was born,” Luci said, partially trying for a joke even if it was true. She did write about the DMV man carefully and said, “Luckily I already have an ID and I can’t drive anyway, so I doubt I’d meet him. But that would be great.” After all, she didn’t think she’d need a car before moving out here. Taking out her own phone she finally stood up away from the crystals to hand it to Cass a bit hopeful. “Sure! Warning though, if I think I found something you might find interesting I have a habit of sending long texts about it with links. Just let me know if it’s annoying and I’ll stop” Normally she would print out  what it was, but well that seemed like a lot of paper now and she didn’t have unlimited printing at the school as of yet. 

___

It was good to be useful. Cass had learned that a long time ago, had found that being useful was often much better than being kind. People wanted you around when you had a use, when there was something you could offer them. It was part of why she’d learned to steal; other homeless kids weren’t quite as quick on their feet, couldn’t feel every vibration in the way a stranger moved in order to successfully pick their pocket undetected. Being able to do so meant those kids would hang around longer, even if it was only to utilize her abilities to put food in their stomachs. 

Knowing about rocks, and being able to share that knowledge, wasn’t the kind of thing that had ever made her useful before… but maybe it would now. Luci seemed genuinely interested, and if Cass liked talking about rocks anyway, then wasn’t this good for both of them? The line between being used and being a friend could be so thin sometimes that Cass often liked to squint and pretend it didn’t exist at all.

Cass laughed at Luci’s description of meeting Milo, nodding her head. “I guess he doesn’t really count, then. But that’s okay! You’ve got me now.” A bold statement, considering they’d only just met, but half of fooling people into liking you was confidence. If you pretended to be someone worth liking, people would believe you eventually. Cass had gotten pretty good at it over the years. “That’s good. He kind of stinks. Metaphorically. But also probably literally? He just sucks.” He was the kind of fae that made them all look bad, Cass thought; the kind that preyed on humans just because they were there. Cass bounced on her heels a little, taking Luci’s phone and quickly inputting her number, then texting her own phone so she’d have Luci’s, too. “That’s totally okay! I love long texts. And I definitely won’t think you’re annoying.” The opposite might not be true. Luci was likely to grow tired of Cass sooner rather than later, and Cass knew it. “What are you doing right now? Want to go grab lunch?”

—

Luci didn’t often have such an easy time talking to people, but something about Cass made it easy. Maybe it was just how open the other was about talking about her interests, and the enthusiasm that came out of it. She decided though, she wasn’t going to dwell on it. 

Instead she smiled and chuckled getting up, the crystal she’d been intently looking at side tracked by the new friend she was making. “I’ll make sure to stay away then.” Getting her back and things settled she excitedly saw that Cass had texted herself, meaning that the phone number wasn’t fake. She didn’t think it would be, but it was still nice to know. “Oh! Good. I’m sure we’ll get along fine. Oh - Sure I haven’t eaten yet. I’d love to grab something.” Dusting herself off, she smiled and went to follow Cass.  For at least a little while, the young alchemist's curiosity of Wicked’s Rest could be quelled, if only at the promise of a new friend.

[im-not-a-virgo-im-a-lesbo]

There was nothing wrong with the hotel.

It was a fine hotel. Perfectly functional hotel, no monsters, or broken window locks, or creepy murder hallways.

It was just.

Well.

It was just that there was only one bed.

(Or: Jason and Percy find themselves in a predicament that involves, you guessed it, only one bed.)

A request given to me by the lovely @chaotic-and-mentally-ill

[missingmywing]

So quick background: some friends and I were talking about Ancient hcs and joked that Hyth probably seduced most or all of the Convocation at some point, and I made the joke that he probably challenged my Azem to do the same. I was then shamelessly enabled by multiple friends to write a fic of them doing exactly that. So. This is technically the second chapter bc the first would be Hyth's challenge itself, but they're all self-contained enough that they work alone with background explanation. Enjoy 13k words of what was supposed to be a 4k smut fic that then exploded into Plot and Character Studies.

Lahabrea

Styx had to admit, they weren’t… entirely sure how they were going to approach Lahabrea.

Not that they were at all adverse, but without Hyth’s prodding they’d have never gathered the boldness, the audacity. The man was stern and focused on his work above all else, and certainly not the type to fool around. Especially with Azem, who was undoubtedly the greatest headache for him on the convocation more often than not.

Styx knew that he didn’t hate them, or even truly dislike them, for all that he was often the first to criticize their methods and actions. But that didn’t change the fact that they were in opposition more often than not and that he would likely respond scathingly to a “distraction from their duties”.

Then again, perhaps it was simply a matter of constraints to work around.

He wouldn’t look favourably upon a distraction from his usual duties, so they could approach him towards the end of the day when those duties had reached a point of being set aside anyway. And he wasn’t the type to casually fool around, especially not with the one who was often a thorn in his side - though accidentally, usually - but conversely, his frustration with them could be an opening to offer an outlet.

How likely he was to accept it was another question altogether.

And… they did owe him somewhat of an apology. Not for quelling the volcano, but their use of Ifrita had been-

Well. They’d always intended to apologize to him for it, this just gave them a good opportunity to offer it.

So it was that two bells after the official end to the work day, as the sun began to dip beneath the horizon, found Azem knocking on Lahabrea’s office door with the curls of anticipation and nerves twisting in their stomach.

Frankly the only way this could go wrong was if he took insult, which they strongly hoped he wouldn’t. There was no reason for him to, really, and they knew that at worst he would likely dismiss them with irritable exasperation at the potential waste of time, but… well, their mind had always oh so helpfully conjured the worst case of any scenario they’d ever envisioned.

The flare of aether was sign enough of acknowledgement, and they steeled themselves and pushed open the door into the office.

Lahabrea was sitting at his desk and, given that the majority of the paperwork was on one side of it in designated files, they assumed that he was largely done for the day.

The office had long been altered to reflect a design very similar to that of what they remembered of his office in the Akademia Anyder; with dark stone edged with gold, desk of a dark wood, shelves of books and concept crystals along the walls, and a dark leather lounge with a low table to the right. It was lit more by the lamps along the walls than the rapidly dimming light from the arching windows to his back. It was both nostalgic and a bit comforting in its familiarity. His expression was neutral, rather than pulled into a tired frown, which was… a relatively good sign.

It at least meant that he wasn’t in a foul mood already.

“Azem,” he greeted neutrally as he looked up, voice not giving away any particular emotion. “Is there aught I can assist you with?”

… or perhaps he was upset. He was being suspiciously cordial given that he was undoubtedly still irked about their unauthorized acquisition and employment of Ifrita to stabilize the volcano less than a decade ago. While not as incised about it as Pashtarot, he’d been very vocal about his displeasure with the whole situation as he’d led the formal dressing-down of Azem by the Convocation in the aftermath. Not to mention their and Elidibus’ meddling about the Pandaemonium incident, their avoidance on the subject of their “familiar” in the aftermath, and his own personality shift in the wake of reclaiming his soul shard… 

They eyed him warily. “Not as such, but I thought that time enough had passed to broach the subject of Ifrita without setting implications of excuses.”

He watched them for a moment, then released a sigh. “You are not one to make excuses Azem. While I may find your explanations excessively detailed and opinionated at times, they never deviate from factuality and into vacuity.” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “If it is an explanation you seek to offer, you need not go to the effort. You were thorough enough with your report the first time, and I know well enough what motivates you to piece the events together myself.”

Azem found themselves struck silent at his words. That… wasn’t what they had expected. “I… see.”

“Nor are you one to offer an apology for your actions when you feel them justified.” Lahabrea tilted his head in a way that they could almost see his eyebrow raised behind his mask. “So what, pray tell, could have brought you here?”

They hesitated. “Not… apologies for my actions, perhaps, but for possible insult that could be taken from them, yes.” Azem answered carefully. “Ifrita was a powerful and well-crafted creation, and I’m not in the least ignorant of the time, effort, and care that went into her development. That I took advantage of that so soon after her approval and induction to the archives is an action I am well aware could be construed poorly. Of that, I am more than willing to offer an apology - even if no offense was intended.” Their heart twisted in their chest, awaiting his response. No matter how much time passed, he never became less intimidating - especially when he was in a clear position to offer scathing rejection.

Lahabrea considered them for a long moment, crimson eyes as unreadable as ever behind his mask. “… as I said, I am aware enough of your motivations to know your intent with your actions. While admittedly irate at your callous and blatant flaunting of protocol, I took no offense at your actions with Ifrita. The concept was created and submitted to the archives to be of use - not in that manner, perhaps, but if I wished to control how a concept were to be used I would never submit anything for public use - even restricted as it was. While I may disapprove of the manner, the utilization was within rights.”

… oh. Well today was a day for revelations wasn’t it?

Before they could respond, however, Lahabrea continued. “However; while the apology may have been genuine I can see clearly that it was also an excuse and a veil for your true purpose of being here. Speak plainly, Azem - you waste both our time with this vacant exchange.”

They felt their spine stiffen against their will at being called out, opening their mouth to respond… only for nothing to escape. What could they say? This hadn’t gone at all how they’d expected, and they’d been on the back-foot since the beginning. They had no idea how to proceed from here.

Especially given the excuse they had used to be here, it… full transparency likely would be taken as an offense to both his time and his assiduity. Frankly this whole approach, hells this whole challenge, had been ill-formed. They’d become so used to the ease of their relationship with Hythlodaeus and Hades over the millenia that they’d forgotten how complicated and difficult it was to court someone into bed - or elsewhere - without predetermined attraction.

They hadn’t thought this through, and they were going to fail before they’d even begun. The mortification burned through their stomach, twisting their mouth down into a frown as shame made their head dip. They had no recourse for this; it seemed Hyth had won without any effort and that they would simply have to take whatever he set for the loss consequences.

“It… doesn’t truly matter,” they murmured. “I rather overestimated your ire over my actions with both Ifrita and the island, and I see now that further pursuit of the matter unnecessary. I apologize for taking your time.” With another dip of their head they turned to leave, frustration and shame at their own cowardice a cocktail in their chest.

“Azem.”

Their body froze at his voice, layered with aether and command woven into one - the same technique he and Elidibus used to take control whenever debates became too unrestrained amongst the Convocation meetings.

He stood, an implied expectation laid at the action. As much as they wished to flee with their pride somewhat intact - if wounded - they couldn’t simply ignore his own silent demand. They slowly turned back towards him, shoulders reflexively curled.

Lahabrea stared at them for a long moment then reached up to pinch the bridge of his mask and sighed. A moment later he was stepping around the desk and walking towards them, stopping less than an arm’s length away to look down at them.

(They always forgot, somehow, exactly how large and imposing he was in close capacity. While they and Themis were admittedly smaller than most - and given the information on dynamis Hermes had brought to their attention, what it was and how it applied, combined with they and Themis’ unusual attunement to emotions of those around them and Venat’s dabbling as Azem while carrying them, they had theories as to why - Lahabrea was several heads taller than them and it was… immensely imposing when he did so intentionally.)

“As fellow members of the Convocation, regardless of seniority or approval, we are equals of our positions. Yet you stand there as uncertain as an Akademia student being chastised.” He stepped past them, circling behind them, and though they tried to turn their head and keep him in their peripherals their hood and mask - on, following protocol for once, and they cursed themself for it - blocked their view. “If you wish for something then speak it. Hiding behind empty platitudes is hardly befitting of your station - as either a Convocation member or as Azem - regardless of expected reactions.”

A thrill shot down their spine at his words. He - of course he’d realized their aim, and they once again cursed themself for their lack of forethought. He was tens of millenia older than them, infinitely more experienced - of course he could recognize when someone held intentions towards him.

They bit their lip, frozen, unable to force the words past their lips.

(If there was one unfortunate thing they and Hades had in common it was the inability to force their pride to the wayside and willfully embarrass themselves.)

Lahabrea sighed, and for the first time in the conversation the sparks of irritation were laced through his voice. “As ever, you try my patience.” They could feel him stepping closer behind them, his presence burning hot and his voice much closer than it had been before. “Speak, Azem. What precisely did you come here for, and why should I give you what you seek?”

Azem couldn’t withhold their shudder, the command in his voice breaking through their hesitation. “An extension of the apology, should you be so inclined to accept it. As I said, I assumed your ire deeper than it was and meant to offer an outlet if you so wished.”

He was silent for a moment, and Azem wished they could see his face to weigh just how that was taken. His presence seemed to ease, and they weren’t sure whether to take that as a good sign or a bad one. When he did speak it sent a bolt of molten heat directly to their core.

“I’m beginning to think you simply enjoy being punished.”

Their knees went weak at the words as their breath caught in their breast. Not that he was wrong, precisely, but they certainly hadn’t expected him to say that. “I-”

“I did not give you leave to speak.”

It was all they could do to keep themselves upright as his aether-laced words lashed across them and stalled their voice in their throat.

He stepped back around them, severe red mask working well with his frown to make them feel pinned into place beneath his crimson gaze. “I know not whether what drives you is true contrition or selfish wants given excuse.” Even without his aether woven into his words, they could feel it all around them, blazing hot and overwhelming. Their breaths came more heavily as they tried to swallow back a whine at the heavy sensation. “But regardless, I wonder if you are truly prepared to accept the consequences of what you offer.” He stepped closer, mere ilms between them, forcing Azem to crane their neck to look up at him as they panted for breath and clenched their hands in their robes. “I am not wont to force others to conform to my views, regardless of whether I disapprove of their actions. But if it is punishment you seek…” He lifted his hand sharply and a sigil wove itself beneath them, chains springing forth to wrap around Azem and force their hands behind their back, and Lahabrea caught their chin with his hand to steady them as they staggered. The events together took less than a moment, and the motion of them knocked their hood off. Lahabrea looked down upon them with crimson eyes that blazed as he finished, “… I will be more than willing to provide.”

Everything seemed to still all at once as they stood there, chest heaving as they struggled for air, heat pervading the space around them and sinking directly to the core of their being. Lahabrea continued watching them, unmoving, waiting for their answer.

Giving them the chance to change their mind now.

Stars, as though they would after that implied promise.

They leaned into his grip the slightest bit that they could. “I do not take actions heedless of the consequences,” they forced out. “If the actions I take have consequences then so be it - I am not so unconfident in my judgements as to shy from them.”

His head dipped for a moment before he scoffed quietly. “I find myself unsurprised.” He released their chin and they felt a keen edge of anticipation as they heard the click of the door’s lock behind them, felt the activation of silencing wards as he reached up and plucked their mask from their face. “This is a boldness more befitting of Azem.”

Stars above, if he was trying to ruin them with words before even touching them it was working.

Lahabrea stepped away, walking back to his desk with a measured pace, and set their mask down on the edge of it with a soft click. When he turned back to face them, it was with the same stern, impassive expression he usually wore, with no sign of affection at their state beyond his burning eyes. “You’ve a word, if it becomes too much?"

They swallowed with a nod. “Starfall.”

“Good. I trust you’ll not forget it.” He examined them silently for several moments, as though they were one of his creations and he was determining the best manner of handling them, before he tilted his head the slightest bit to the side thoughtfully and brought a hand to his chin. “Given your apparent fondness for fire, perhaps we should begin with a review of its properties and the inherent danger of engaging with it carelessly.”

Azem had but a moment to think that they were in trouble before the chains wrapped around them burned, the fire-aspected aether pressing through their clothes and against their skin and then sinking beneath it, intense and borderline unbearable, toeing the line of pain and then crossing it.

The kind of pain and heat that made the noise that tore itself from their throat into something between a moan and a cry as they arched against the chains.

They could feel it spreading, feel the aether twisting and twining against their own, sinking deep inside them as it snaked through their body. They trembled against their bonds, trying to keep to their feet.

For but a few moments they managed, barely, before it abruptly pulsed and scattered through their whole form, more akin to a jolt of levin than fire, and they cried out again as their legs gave out. A hand caught their arm, holding them upright, but rather than offering relief it only intensified the aether and they wavered in his grip with a quiet groan.

“Given your excessive recklessness in throwing yourself into increasingly dangerous situations, I wouldn’t have thought you so easy to curb.”

Azem shuddered at the words, the heat of their own pooling beneath their stomach. “Th-this is… a bit different,” they managed out, trying to focus on his face and ignore the fire within them. “Normally the pain isn’t quite so- ngh- targeted.” Had it just been pain they could have endured it just fine - they’d experienced far worse, and even Ifrita had managed some particularly painful wounds of this type but magnified - but that it was the borderline between pain and pleasure, and with such intent…

He was silent for a moment, allowing them to catch their breath as the aether’s intensity faded away to a gentle warmth that they didn’t trust for a moment. “I see,” he said finally, releasing their arm, and they blinked in confusion as the chains dispersed.

“What-”

“Put your arms above your head.”

Levin shot through them at the words and they bit back a strangled noise at it. They complied shakily, watching him from the corner of their eye as he considered them.

Chains wrapped once more around their wrists and seemed to hang from empty air. They tugged at them, testing to see if there was any give, idly considering - distracting themself - if he was using a gravity, time, or wind spell, or if it was a purely aetheric calculation… regardless, there was no pliancy to them. Azem was well and truly trapped in place, and even if their legs did give out they would find no solace in the support of the tile floor below.

Their heart was thundering in their chest as they tried to keep their breathing even, tried not to give away just how affected they were merely from this.

“I must admit, this compliance is… unexpected. Given the trouble you’re so fond of causing, I expected more resistance.”

They huffed out a playful laugh. “I told you, this is an apology of sorts.”

“Is it?”

He sounded distinctly doubtful, but before they could respond the aether flared again and knocked out another strangled sound as it tore through them. They tried to trace the sensations, the aether following along their own and twining with it to redouble its own effects, but it served only to make them more aware of its effects on their body.

The way their robes shifted and chafed, their hair sticking to their neck and falling into their eyes, sticking to their lips, sweat cresting their brow, and the slickness between their thighs turning sticky as they pressed them together in a futile attempt to relieve even the slightest bit of pressure…

The flare likely lasted only a few moments, but it felt like an eternity before it once again died down and left them able to focus on keeping themselves upright on shaky legs, gasping for breath.

Lahabrea was still simply observing them with crossed arms.

They waited him out, slowly regaining control of their body as the heat remained a dull burn and their shaking faded to something more manageable.

Though the ache between their thighs did not, and they rubbed their legs together while trying to ignore the sensation of emptiness. They’d just barely started, Azem wasn’t going to give in so easily.

Whether he would even try or not, Lahabrea would have to put in effort to make them beg.

His eyes narrowed behind his mask, though, at something about them that he’d noticed. They tilted their head at him.

“I suppose I was incorrect about your lack of resistance. You simply cannot help yourself but cause trouble.”

Azem shivered at his tone, mind flitting through potentials as to what he meant. “How so?”

“For someone supposedly offering themselves for punishment,” he said lowly, and a moment later they stiffened as cool air encompassed their bare form, and he flicked a glance down to where their legs were pressed together, “you certainly seem to be enjoying yourself.”

Ah.

They bit their tongue as they felt more aether weave around them, and their legs were forced apart by the chains around their ankles. The chains burned hot, but the polished tile beneath their feet was cold even beneath the sigils of Lahabrea’s spell.

It got to them - the coolness of the air against their skin, being fully exposed in the middle of Lahabrea’s office, windows uncovered (though they were several floors above ground level and were thus unlikely to be seen, the thought of the danger alone was arousing enough), while the man himself remained fully robed, the threatening heat still tracing through them…

Their head fell back with a quiet groan, feeling the burn of embarrassment spreading across their face and down to their shoulders, across their chest. They clenched around nothing as the heat flared once more through their core.

Not that they would admit that, as much as they wanted-

They were abruptly dragged out of their thoughts by a warm touch to their side - a physical one, unexpectedly - and they inhaled sharply at the burning sensation that was painful.

Azem looked back forward to see Lahabrea staring down at their (distinctly flat, so probably not that) chest and side with a severe frown and-

Oh. Right. They hadn’t gotten that healed yet.

“It’s fine,” they said quickly, trying to pull his attention away from the myriad of minor acid burns and long scratches stretching from their left shoulder to hip - the result of their most recent escapade helping some of Halmarut's words suppress an escaped specimen - and back to what was supposed to be happening. “It looks worse than it is, and it doesn’t even hurt-”

“Why,” he asked, dangerously quiet, “have you not gone to a healer?”

Shit, they were in trouble. “Because I’ve been busy since I’ve gotten back, and I didn’t want to bother Emmerololth or her Words with minor injuries.”

“Minor-” he snapped- then stopped and brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his mask with a deep steadying breath. “Azem.”

They set their jaw and stared stubbornly up at him. 

It took several moments before he sighed deeply and reached up to pull off his mask and hood in order to glare at them properly. “You are incorrigible,” he said scathingly. “However busy you may have been, it would take naught but a bell, at most, to find a healer available. Emmerololth could heal this in ten minutes. And yet you use the excuse that you were so busy as to not have time available, rather than simply admitting that, as per usual, you are being exceptionally careless of your own wellbeing.”

They hunched their shoulders, looking away. “I have been busy,” they mumbled. “And it didn’t seem worth the effort of hunting someone down, they’ll heal fine on their own.”

“Ridiculous,” Lahabrea snapped again, and Azem glanced up, startled, at the thread of genuine anger in his voice. “There comes a point where recklessness crosses over into foolishness, and ignoring your injuries that could otherwise be easily healed is well beyond that line.” They tensed as the chains tightened around their wrists and ankles, and Lahabrea rested a hand upon their shoulder over the injury. “I will heal you this time, but I will be informing Emmerololth of this.”

Oh no. That was a double edged knife of a promise. Emmerololth would be holding this against them for years, and Lahabrea-

Their thoughts were interrupted once more by his aether, only this time its form was… different. Not the fiery inferno of before, but an altogether rougher sensation prickling through their body over the wounds. akin to the sanding paper artisans used, dragging along their skin and making them cringe and squirm away. Not that there was anywhere to go with the chains holding them still.

It was - not pleasant, certainly; with aether dragging across raw nerves and forcing their body to rebuild itself rapidly, Lahabrea making no effort to smooth the process over and make it soothing as most healers did. But despite that, or perhaps because of it, coupled with the intensity of his focus on them, Azem found that the ache between their legs only worsened even as they tugged and pulled against the chains in a futile attempt to escape the sensation.

Lahabrea sighed, stepping closer and dropping his other hand on their hip irritably to keep them in place. “Hold still.”

“Easier said than done,” Azem shot back mutinously. “You aren’t precisely making it-” they cut themself off with a sharp noise as his aether flared again, chains snaking down around their arms and up their legs to keep them more firmly in place. The aether beneath their skin turned hot again, balance tipping back into fire as their injuries vanished and Lahabrea returned to the task at hand.

“Given your extensive experience with injuries and their discomfort, I would have expected you to endure a simple healing with more poise.” He narrowed his eyes and stepped back, and the sand paper-esque aether returned - beginning where their injuries had been and sweeping slowly out through the rest of their body as though hunting for any other injuries that had been overlooked.

Azem twisted and writhed in place with small whines and moans, helpless to escape it or the heat creeping ever so slowly through them. Every nerve was alight, and their face burned crimson as they felt the slick leaking from them and dripping down their legs and to the floor below as they clenched around nothing.

It was the sweetest form of torture, and Lahabrea undoubtedly knew it as he watched them with narrow eyes and crossed arms.

They wanted him to touch them again, properly this time, but they knew he wouldn’t. Not unless they asked.

Begged, more like, and that wasn’t happening. They weren’t that far gone. Not yet.

But he would make them.

He wouldn’t give them what they wanted unless they spoke it aloud, that much they knew, and the thought alone made their head drop back with a quiet moan.

The feather-light brush of their long hair against the curve of their ass made them shudder, the slightest sensation of touch beyond the burning chains. Not that it actually helped anything, but they would take anything at the moment. Anything physical. Anything beyond his intangible, inexorable aether spreading through them.

They shook as the heat wove through their abdomen, pushing them closer to release, cresting upwards on a wave of pleasure that began to drown out the discomfort. They were close, heart beating louder in their ears as their limbs trembled and their chest heaved, and they arched up as the heat curled and they began to tip over the edge-

-it vanished, the warmth and aether both, and they keened as they yanked against the - also abruptly cold - chains. Their body shook and shuddered, but they couldn’t tip themselves over that edge with no way to touch themselves.

They’d been so close-

Azem slumped in their restraints, trying to catch their breath. Admittedly they had expected it, but still. “That- was cruel,” they huffed at him.

He arched a brow. “I don’t recall offering you any sort of reward. This was meant to be a punishment, yes? You’ve done nothing to earn release.”

That sent another shiver through them, body tightening around the aching emptiness in a futile effort to push itself further. “I see. So you’ll simply toy with me until you’re satisfied?” Although there was an implication there that he may decide not to let them come at all, which was… mildly terrifying to consider.

“Until you’ve learned your lesson,” he corrected indifferently, though the furrow of his brows and searing focus of his gaze said otherwise. “And you’ve admitted to such.”

That sent a shudder down their spine and they bit their tongue to ground themself. So he was, in fact, going to force them to speak their mind. Beg for release.

Excitement pooled in their stomach even as they narrowed their eyes at him. “And what lesson would that be?”

“Your blatant disregard for protocol, and your adamant rejection of conscientiousness towards your own salubrity, to start.”

They arched against their restraints with a choked gasp as the aether returned forcefully, crafted through words and will both, and burned through them once more. They ached for breath, straining fruitlessly against the chains.

Once more they began to crest, tipped to the edge, and then refused when the aether vanished. Twice, thrice, and their eyes were wet as they came down yet again. Still they bit their tongue, refused to cave.

“Stubborn, as per usual.” Lahabrea said flatly, dragging their clouded attention to him. “Must you withhold acknowledgement of indiscretions?”

They tried to speak, voice failing them, and swallowed and tried again. “I acknowledge indiscretions, but I’ll not apologize for those actions which I consider worthwhile. I won’t apologize for that which I don’t regret; merely that which I do. As I said before, I don’t lie. An empty apology is meaningless words.”

“Stubborn,” he hissed, making them flinch at the flare of aether. “Perhaps I have been too lenient.”

What? What did that mean, what could he possibly-?

Their thoughts were broken by the sudden surge of aether that flooded them. Blindingly hot, searing its way through their whole body and making them arch and writhe against the chains, broken cries and moans falling helplessly from their lips as their mind went blank. It was- a lot. So much, nowhere to go, no way to escape it, and they felt themselves being dragged once more to that edge.

Except this time, when they reached the crest of it, it didn’t disappear.

But neither did they tip over the edge.

They were instead balanced on the very edge of it, forced to that point but unable to fall over it. Their body refusing to come.

And it was - too much, too much, they couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, they were numb except to the heat and pleasure and they twisted and cried out and tried desperately to push themselves over, to pull their legs together and force the orgasm to come, but they couldn’t. The chains served their purpose well, holding them firmly in place, and a sob pulled itself from their chest.

It vanished abruptly, the heat drawing back and allowing them back down, but their whole body was trembling and shaking as they slumped in the restraints, unable to hold their own weight. Their face was wet with tears, sweat slicking their body, and they’d never ached more desperately. Stars, they’d take anything right now. Something to fill them, to touch them, to push them over that edge.

The break in sensations allowed them to sense their own aetheric flow more clearly, though, and they almost immediately found the source of the problem. A spell woven to keep them at the brink and no further. The sigil of its form glowing slightly where it rested beneath their stomach, blurry though it was through their teary gaze. He’d used light-aligned aether, the bastard, inducing stasis under the conditions of his choosing, refusing their body to tip past a certain point.

They were completely at his whim, and there was nothing they could do about it.

(Well, they could. One word, one sign that it was actually too much, and he’d release them immediately. But they weren’t anywhere near that point. Not yet.)

They craned their neck to look up at him as he stepped closer to them and raised a brow. Waiting. They set their jaw stubbornly and stared back.

“Still you resist,” he rumbled, glaring down at them.

“Y-you know… my feelings- on the matter,” they stuttered out. “You- you’ll not- change my mind so- so easily.”

“Is that so?” he asked quietly, their only warning before they were once again dragged into the flames.

If they’d hoped their body would numb to the feeling, they’d have been sorely disappointed. If anything, it seemed only intensified this time. The anxious anticipation setting them on edge just before it struck and heightening it when it did. They went rigid and jerked against the immovable chains, anything to distract from the overwhelming aether dragging them under.

They didn’t- it was-

They couldn’t feel anything but the burn, the pleasure so sharp it hurt, the desperate ache of the emptiness and lack of touch where they needed it most, every nerve overstimulated to the point that they could sense naught else, ragged, desperate breaths tearing from their chest in a bid for air.

And it didn’t stop.

There was no recession this time, no diminishing in the aether. It took them to that edge, rising and falling in pulses and waves, and kept them there, merciless, until they couldn’t bear it.

All sense of time vanished in the face of it, they didn’t know how long it took before they broke.

But break they did, as they inevitably would.

“Please-” they choked out, pulling helplessly at the immovable chains. “Please, please, I can’t-” they gasped around the words, voice wrecked, as they stumbled over whine. “No more, please, please let me-”

“If you wish for release, you know how to receive it.”

They shook their head, forcing their eyes open to look up at him wetly. “Lahabrea-”

He stared down at them, seemingly unimpressed, though the way his jaw was clenched and his hands rested a bit too tightly on his arms proved he wasn’t entirely unaffected - not that they could truly register that through their haze. “I believe I made my conditions clear, Azem.”

They whimpered and their toes curled, throwing their head back as the aether flared somehow higher yet again and it burned. “Please! I’m sorry- I’m sorry for- for going behind your back, I’m sorry for un-undercutting the Convocation- I- I-” their voice broke into another sob at the next pulse of aether.

They distantly heard Lahabrea’s irate sigh, and arched up with a keen at the feeling of his warm hand catching their chin and pulling their face up sharply. They strained against the chains, trying to reach him further, as choked whimpers escaped them. “I ask not for empty apologies, Azem, for I am aware that you thought what you did to be necessary. My quarrel is that you did so without recourse. You did go behind our backs, and took exceptional risk of disaster in doing so. Taking a high level concept, invoking it to a powerful level, and intending to face it alone.”

Their nails dug into their palms at they strained helplessly at the chains, his aether pushing ever higher and hotter and staying there.

“Had Elidibus not alerted Emet-Selch to your reckless intent and beseeched his aid, you would have fought alone and the injuries you sustained would have been much worse. Had you failed, the island itself would have simply faced Ifrita’s wrath rather than the volcano’s - and the destruction could have spread beyond even that. Whatever your intentions, your actions were reckless and ill-planned, and your insistence in acting alone put you at a risk much higher than necessary. To say nothing of your refusal to pay heed to your own injuries in the aftermath.” Their breaths were pulled from them in little gasps as his words wrapped around them, their intent echoing through the aether he’d woven through them. “I care not for empty apologies, but I expect you to acknowledge your failings and the anxieties they caused.” They barely registered his glare through teary eyes, dark and frustrated as it was.

“I’m sorry,” they choked out, trying to focus enough to think through the hazy burn and the desperation. So close, pushed to the edge but never beyond, wound so tight it hurt. “I’m sorry, I’ll- I’ll be better. I promise, I- I’ll be more careful, I won’t-” another pulse made them arch and flinch with a cry, “Please, please please please I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t- won’t- won’t go on my- my own next time- I’ll- I’ll find someone to help and- and act as a con-contingency, I-” they sobbed, babbling, desperation driving their words.

Lahabrea’s hand slid upward from their jaw, catching their hair in his fist and jerking their head back, drawing another keen from them. “You will also not hide your injuries, or ignore them, regardless of how minor you may consider them,” he growled. “When you return to Amaurot from now on, you will find a healer - be it Emmerololth or one of her words, or even Elidibus or myself - and have them tend your injuries. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” Azem choked out, tears spilling from their eyes. “Yes yes yes, I understand, I promise, anything, I will, I-” Another shudder wracked them. “Lahabrea please!”

“Very well then,” he murmured, and they felt the hand not fisted in their hair reach down to brush against the sigil on their stomach, unraveling the spell, and then dip down further.

His fingers dragged across their clit to hook into their entrance just as another pulse of aether flared through them, and they were wrenched over the edge with a wail.

Their entire body went rigid, every muscle tensing and pulling sharply against the restraints, and they couldn’t breathe as their vision whited out. Everything was overwhelmed by the heat and relief that flooded through them, pleasure so sharp it was like needles dragging across their nerves, and they couldn’t register anything else through the sensations.

When they did finally come back to themself sometime later, blinking spots from their eyes hazily, they were pressed up against Lahabrea with one arm beneath their shoulders and his other hand resting on their waist to support them. They hadn’t yet been released from the chains, but they had loosened to allow Azem’s body to relax.

Their face was wet and they were still wracked with shivers, uncontrollable little spasms from their overwrought nerves and aether. His own had withdrawn from theirs, but they could still sense the little traces where it hadn’t yet fully dispersed.

Azem didn’t try to move yet. They remained slumped against him, pressing their face into his still-clothed chest, and tried to regain their bearings.

He allowed them there, unmoving and dazed, for several minutes before he asked quietly “Are you ready to be released?”

Another shudder rippled through them and they pressed closer against him. They were ready to be let down, yes, their shoulders and hips prickling in discomfort from the extended time in this position, but… they didn’t want him to let go yet.

The abrupt absence of heat after the prolonged exposure to it had left them oddly cold, and they didn’t want to lose the warmth of his body against theirs.

His thumb traced along their spine. “Azem?”

They trembled a bit, but gave a tiny nod in answer to his question. The chains dispersed from their limbs, leaving them unexpectedly unbalanced and their arms dropped down to clutch at his as they tried to regain their balance. He tugged them upright, still supporting them, and they leaned against him even as they found their legs and flexed their shoulders. The pins and needles sensation made them wince.

They’d half expected him to push them back and tell them to redress themselves, but he didn’t. He allowed them to stay where they were, and they were grateful for it. Styx still felt a little like they were floating. Unfocused. Dizzy.

Cold.

After a few more moments Lahabrea let out a quiet sigh. They flinched and clung to his arms with a little bit of panic as he shifted back and cold air rushed into the space left behind, but rather than removing himself from their grip he instead pulled them along with him. Around the low table and over to the lounge seat against the wall.

He settled down on it with his back to the arm and shoulder to its back and tugged them down as well. It was with a burst of relief that they clambered on after him, tucking themself between his side and the back of the couch and burying their face back into his shoulder. He shifted to find comfort, and his arm fell back around them as his other hand settled on their head.

It was comfortable.

A quiet comfort, a soft, unexpected indulgence that they basked in with relief for a while.

After a time they slowly returned to themself fully, mind focusing back in on their body, and they sighed softly as they shifted to a more comfortable position, noting distantly that it was now fully dark outside and the buildings glimmered through the windows.

“You’ve returned to sensibility, I take it?” Lahabrea asked.

Azem made a small noise of agreement, twisting to look up at him. “As much as I ever have sensibility, I suppose,” they quipped weakly with a small smile.

He sent them a dry look in return. “Perhaps I should use alertness as a descriptor, then.” He examined their expression more closely, seriously. “You are unharmed?”

They nodded. “I am, yes. It was… intense, but it wasn’t overmuch.” Styx made a face. “That was underhanded though. Extracting a promise from me like that.” And now that they had given their word they had to follow it. Ugh.

“Given your stubbornness, the options to obtain your word are limited. I merely utilized the opportunity offered.”

Was that why he had accepted their overtures? Well, it was unlikely to be that simple, but… that was more devious than they’d have expected from him. Grumbling they shifted their position, throwing a leg over his to straddle it and folding their arms against his chest, plopping their chin atop of them to pout up at him. “Underhanded,” they repeated.

He’d tensed at their sudden shift in movement, hands hovering above their body awkwardly. “You may say that as many times as you like, but mine own words are equally true. No amount of childish petulance counteracts such.”

Azem huffed at him but didn't argue, instead focusing on him. He was - and had been - making a valiant effort to seem unaffected. But he wasn’t quite looking at them directly, his body rigid against the couch, and though it was difficult to make out against his dark skin there was a red flush across his face and ears.

He wasn’t as impassive as he was attempting to seem, as proven by the way he jerked with a sharp inhale, hands falling sharply to their waist and eyes snapping back to them, as they shifted to press their thigh against the semi-hardness beneath his robes.

“Azem,” he growled warningly, voice strained.

“Lahabrea,” they responded with a small smirk. “Is aught amiss?”

He narrowed his eyes at them. “What are you doing?”

That made them pause, raising their brows at him. They’d thought that would be… rather obvious. “Hmm, returning the favor I suppose?” They shifted again, leg grinding up and drawing a hiss from him.

His hands flexed around their waist, pushing them back the slightest bit. “That is unnecessary,” he said firmly, despite the strain in his tone.

They froze at the words, confusion and a sting of hurt settling abruptly in their chest like ice. “Unnecessary?” they repeated, tilting their head, trying not to show the sudden hurt, the self-consciousness at his words. Had they misinterpreted his responses? He’d seemed to be enjoying the situation, to the degree that he was willing to show at least, but had he not… Did he not wish for them to reciprocate?

The thought, that he was content being the instigator but that their touch was so unappealing to him as to refuse it, hurt. Perhaps they’d misinterpreted his open concern earlier into something more fond than it truly was. If so then they would certainly not push, would leave at his word and accept that they’d misconstrued his reactions, but… it was… it felt…

Lahabrea’s next words broke them from their sudden spiral of panic. “You’ve received what you came here for, yes?” He asked, glaring down at where his large hands circled their waist, avoiding their gaze. “There’s no need to insist upon requitement out of obligation.”

What?

Hurt gave way almost immediately to… not offense, precisely, but… indignation. Their hands tightened on his robes as they quietly asked, “Do you truly view me as so conceited, so self-serving?”

He frowned, gaze returning to their own. “Tis hardly a matter of conceit, merely pragmatism. You had a purpose for coming here, with that purpose fulfilled you’ve no need to travail yourself with a mere unconscious consequence.”

Styx stared at him, unable to form words to respond for a moment.

That was… absurd. Absolutely ludicrous, and it made a thread of concern wind through the back of their mind. A whisper of thought, wondering precisely how bad it had been with Athena for that to be considered a reasonable reaction. But they ignored it, it wasn’t relevant at the moment nor was it their place to pry beyond what they and Themis already had, and they instead focused back on him. “If it were something I considered a travail I’d not have approached you to begin with,” they said flatly, eyes narrowing at him. “I am also not one to simply take my own pleasure and leave my chosen partner without care, and I don’t appreciate the insinuation that I would be. If you do not wish for my touch, or find my attention to your gratification so distasteful, then simply say so and I will accept it and leave.” Much as it may hurt to be so summarily rejected now. “However if it’s simply an assumption of obligation then I assure you, I’m more than willing to reciprocate and more than capable of doing so.”

Lahabrea was the one seemingly struck silent this time, expression startled and a bit confused; something deeper in his eyes that flickered by too quickly for Styx to interpret. But he didn’t push them away, didn’t scowl and tell them to leave.

They took that as implicit permission to continue, watching his face closely as they pressed their thigh back to him. His hands flexed once more around their waist, but he didn't push them back this time. Styx continued watching his expression as they ground gently against him, the way his brows twitched and lips tightened in an attempt to control his reactions and maintain his composure.

They had every intention of unraveling that composure soon enough.

He tensed as they wove their aether through his robes with the clear intent of unmaking them, but didn’t stop them. They took a moment to examine him once they were gone, sitting up and leaning back as their hands dropped to cover his on their waist, and felt their brows quirk in interest as they realized that his undershirt was just form-fitting enough to make the muscle tone beneath visible.

It made sense, of course - creating new concepts put him as the first one in the line of fire when they inevitably went awry in the process, so he would have built up just as much physical strength as aetherical - but somehow they’d never actually considered it.

Well they certainly were now.

Despite their sudden urge to see beneath the black fabric, they didn’t want to rush this and make him uncomfortable - well, to a degree that he became averse to their attention, at least - so rather than vanishing his undershirt they slid their hands beneath the bottom of it to trace along the line where skin met the fabric of his podea. They watched the shudder race through him, jaw tightening, but he made no move to stop them either.

With another gentle twist of their aether - light and careful, still sore and a bit overwhelmed from his earlier attention - they unraveled his undershirt into aether as well and had to stop abruptly.

Ah.

Their impression had been correct, but… underestimated, somewhat. They were unused to anyone being as clearly muscled as Hades, who regularly swung around a sword as large as he was despite his grumbling about it, but Lahabrea was… fairly close. And he was littered with scars, though that was much less surprising. Smaller ones all around, but a few larger ones as well. Scratches across his ribs, a line stretching over his shoulder, a faded burn mark across his other shoulder and neck, and a strangely shaped scar over his chest that they couldn’t quite guess the cause of at a glance.

It took him shifting beneath them uncomfortably after a few moments too long of staring to drag them back to attention, finding him looking at a point just past their shoulder pointedly.

They trailed their hands up his torso curiously, accepting his unspoken request to move on, and traced their fingers across the scars along his ribs. They were tempted to ask after their origin, but- well experience told them that most Amaurotines found scars unsettling and avoided conversation about them. Something about an experience being so dangerous and damaging that it left a mark even healing magic couldn’t fix made them uncomfortable.

(Granted a number of their own were due more to lack of proper care on their part than lack of a healer’s ability to fix it. They liked their scars, even if Hades and their compatriots found them endlessly frustrating and disquieting.

Styx just found them fascinating.)

Each scar a story untold, an experience unique to the bearer.

Given how on-edge he already was, though, it was probably best to leave it alone. They couldn’t deny that there was some disappointment to the thought, but they weren’t willing to make him truly uncomfortable by asking after potentially unpleasant events.

So instead they leaned forward and traced their lips along the same path as their fingers had, the resulting shiver from him pulling a smile from them against his skin. They worked their way up slowly, allowing their teeth to graze him here and there, though they never bit down. His hands tightened on their waist regardless, soft breaths pulled from him with each implied action, until they reached his neck and stopped. They felt him shudder beneath them as they finally bit down, gently, sucking a bruise into his skin as their hands found his pecs and squeezed, and his head dropped back with a quiet groan.

It made something smug settle in their chest.

They moved up his neck one small mark at a time until they reached his jaw and pulled back to admire their work. The bruises were small, barely visible against his dark skin - especially in the dim light of the lamps - but they were there, and Styx had always liked to see their marks on their partners. Lahabrea shifted beneath them, turning his head to look at them as his eyes blinked open, and they found their gaze drawn to his mouth as he panted for breath, overcome by the urge to kiss him.

Styx leaned forward and tilted their head slightly, slowly enough that he could turn away if he wished. He didn’t, though, and instead tilted his head towards them and allowed them to press their lips to his.

You could tell a lot about someone from a kiss, Styx had found, and how they reacted to it. Their first thought was how warm he was - hardly surprising in the literal sense, they’d felt how hot Lahabrea was the moment they touched him and fire was his element - but it still somehow took them by surprise. They slid their hands up to wind around his neck, one hand settling there as the other tangled in his hair, and pushed themselves up to get closer to that warmth. They could taste the lingering coffee as their lips moved insistently against his, felt the way his hands pressed more bruises to match those left earlier by the chains into their skin, the rough scrape of his beard against their chin, and their thoughts were filled with static as they pressed closer and chased the heat of him.

The warmth was a surprise not due to the physical sensation but due to his own tendency towards cool stoicism, the distance he held others at, his impeccable control over his emotions and reactions at all times. And yet they could feel his tremors beneath them, feel the flickers of his aether escaping his grasp and winding around them, the way his hands clenched about their waist despite the sweat slicking them, his desperate breaths brushing feather light against their lips as they shifted their position and pressed their tongue to his lips.

There was something heady about drawing Lahabrea of all people into this desperate state, of seeing his usually-unwavering control slip away as his hands grasped at their back, one reaching up tangle in their hair and pull them closer against him, hips rutting against theirs.

The kiss quickly devolved into something frantic and messy as the heat and aether built between them once more, and Styx released his neck to instead reach down and fumble for a grip on his podea and trousers, attempting to feel out the composition of them to unmake them. They couldn’t focus, couldn’t think around the feel of his lips, his tongue, his hands, and found themself having to pull away and gasp for breath in an attempt to clear their thoughts.

Their chest heaved as they tried to regain their composure, leaning into his grip as their thumb traced the back of his neck, and they blinked down to find him watching them with a burning crimson gaze they usually got to see only in the most pitched of convocation arguments. It sent a thrill down their spine and they flashed him a small, wicked grin that belied the sudden flutter of nerves in their stomach.

Rather than speaking and risking a misstep, though, they instead wiggled back and reached down - purposefully dragging their palm across his clear interest to make his hips jerk - to hook their fingers in the top of his podea and trousers, flicking him a quick, questioning glance. He’d tensed up again at the motion, a bit of the fire cooling to embers in his eyes, but he still nodded sharply in acquiescence. A moment of thought and a twist of aether and the last of his clothes vanished to reveal-

… oh.

Well.

Perhaps they’d underestimated the amount of effort that this would require.

Their sudden pause and flicker of apprehension must have been more obvious than they’d meant it to be, because Lahabrea grimaced with a glance away and said, “You do not need to-”

“No,” Styx interrupted firmly, “I’m going to. I want to. It’s just… going to take a bit more work than I expected. Wouldn’t be the first time.” No, the first time had been Hades back when they’d been in their final few centuries in the Academia, and had spent a very nerve-wracking first time together trying to figure out if he’d even fit. Styx had been determined, Hyth had been supportive, and Hades had been nigh-panicking afraid to hurt them. They’d managed in the end, had made a habit of it even, but it had been… eye opening. This would be much easier in comparison. On impulse they leaned forward and pressed their lips to his again for a few lingering moments before pulling back. “Have some faith in me.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Easier said than done when you’ve made it a habit to push yourself past your own bounds of acceptable harm.”

Styx stuck their tongue out at him. “That’s an entirely separate issue for outside such dalliances as this. I know my limits.” Usually. This fell easily within them, either way. “I’ll just need prep, which,” they reached down to dislodge his hand on their waist, intertwining their fingers and bringing it up to skim a kiss along the back as they turned their head to look at him, “is simple enough to provide.”

They saw and felt the shudder he made at that, eyes flashing hot as he dragged them back into a kiss with the hand still in their hair. His other hand disentangled from theirs and slid down their body with clear intent that made them groan softly into his mouth.

Despite his earlier tension he didn’t hesitate or waver as his hand slid between their legs to find their wet entrance and spread them open, easily pressing two fingers in without pause, and it made them sigh against his lips as they rolled their hips against him. It was easy to get lost in the sensations of it, as his lips pressed against theirs and his fingers curled within them as he worked them open. They hardly noticed when they were loose enough for him to press a third in, the sting as he spread them open negligible comparatively.

They definitely noticed when he pressed a fourth to their rim, pulling back and resting their forehead against his with a sharp breath, forcing themself to relax. He’d stilled, though, watching them alertly without pushing forward. “If it’s too much-” he began.

“-I’ll tell you,” Styx interrupted pointedly. “I’ve taken this much before, it’s just been a while. Please trust me.”

“Given your incessant tendency towards recklessness and negligence of your own health, I can’t say I’m particularly inclined to,” he muttered beneath his breath, making their eyes narrow, but he accepted them at their word and twisted his wrist to work his pinkie into them as well. They closed their eyes and breathed through the stinging ache of it, forcibly relaxing themselves as he slowly worked them open. The pain faded quickly enough, leaving them with just an edge of hunger for more.

They tugged gently at his hair. “I’m as prepared as I’m going to be,” they murmured. “I can take you.”

Lahabrea sighed, muttering, “Impatient.” He shook his head. “I can’t decide if recklessness or greediness is a better description of your drive.”

Styx narrowed their eyes at him, reaching down to tug his hand from their body and pull it up to their mouth. “Perhaps that depends on the situation.” They watched his expression slacken and pupils blow out as they wrapped their lips around his soaked fingers. They tasted the tang of themself with a soft moan, making him shudder and his eyes flash as they dragged their tongue across his skin, sucking softly just to watch Lahabrea’s control slowly slip and feel his hand tightening in their hair. They rolled their hips, dragging their entrance across his long neglected arousal and felt a curl of satisfaction in their chest and pleasure in their gut as his hips jerked in response and his expression twisted with a gasp.

They pulled away from his hand with a small grin and a few last kitten licks, then reached down to wrap their hand around him and tug. It was clear how close he was to falling apart entirely by the way his head fell back with a badly stifled noise as he trembled beneath them. They’d intended to move on immediately, but… Styx found themself watching him with fascination as he slowly lost the fight with his composure as they continued to slowly stroke him.

The way his expression twisted, eyes squeezed shut, his brows furrowing and mouth falling open, sweat shining on his heaving chest and his hips giving little jerks in response to their movements, one hand tangled tightly in their hair as the other once more clutched desperately at their hip, even his aether twisting up from beneath his skin and little sparks flickering here and there around them…

It was a side of him they’d never expected to see, and it made them want to both draw this out to cherish it and to chase after more.

But they didn’t want to push him over the edge too soon, so with a twist of aether they summoned a bit of oil onto their hand and spread it over him before pushing themself up on their knees to line him up with their entrance.

His eyes opened to watch them as they slowly sank down onto him, grip tightening as they stopped with a wince at the stretch. Even with preparation… well, they were significantly smaller than him.

(In retrospect they could probably have altered their body to make this easier, but they had preferred forms and while they’d change on a whim they still had set forms they preferred to switch to, and at certain times. Adjustments that didn’t fit one of their predetermined forms, or switching to a different form when they didn’t feel like it, tended to leave them feeling off-balance and wrong in ways they couldn’t quite articulate.)

Lahabrea was watching them alertly, though they could see how much restraint he was enforcing in himself as he fought against the urge to simply push up into them, and Styx felt a twinge of guilt at it. He’d been denied relief for a couple of hours now in his attention to them. They closed their eyes and forcibly relaxed themself, pushing up slightly to drop down with a roll of their hips to force him deeper.

Their head dropped back with a small noise at the drag and sting, but it wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle and both the oil and their own body helped to prevent friction. It still took several minutes and some effort - and some pointed overlooking of discomfort on their end - but they finally settled with their hips against his as he clutched them tightly with an arm around their back, curled over with his forehead on their shoulder, shaking with the effort of his restraint. Styx ran equally shaky hands through his hair as they waited for their body to adjust enough that they could continue with minimal discomfort.

Turning their head to the side, they tugged at his hair to pull him up enough that they could press another kiss to his mouth - a distraction to them both as the heat and hunger built between their shaking bodies. It was an effective distraction as he pulled them tightly against him, mouth pressing to theirs with the desperation of someone starved and frantic, and they wrapped their arms around his shoulders and responded in kind.

The noise he made when they lifted themself up and then dropped made something hot burn in their gut alongside the pleasure. It made them want to draw it out of him again.

So they did.

And the bite of his nails against their skin as he bucked up into them to match their movements only fanned the flames of their own pleasure higher, their voice soon joining his as they found themselves falling to a haze.

Their thighs burned from the effort, though - this wasn’t their usual preference, usually they were being held down and fucked into whatever surface they were against - and while they certainly didn’t mind this, they weren’t sure they could maintain it for much longer.

It took a moment of readjustment, catching Lahabrea’s attention through his haze and pulling him forward as they laid back on the lounge. He caught on immediately and shifted forward to press them down into the soft material as his arm pulled their hips up into his next thrust and-

Styx arched up with a loud moan as the change in position allowed him to drag across the spot inside them that made levin shoot up their spine and spark through their body. They wrapped their legs around his hips and bucked against him, chasing that sensation again, and Lahabrea obliged as he leaned forward and pressed his face into their neck. He thrust into them hard, drawing a gasping cry from them as they clutched at his back and hair.

“Y-yes, there, that’s- good, come on-” they shuddered as they murmured in his ear, feeling increasingly frantic as the heat spread and built with every thrust. He shuddered as well as they continued spilling pleas and praises into his ear, pressing his mouth to their neck. They found their ability to form coherent sentences slowly deteriorating as he pressed his full weight against them and drove them into the fabric of the lounge. Hot and heavy, each powerful stroke dragging across their nerves and hitting deep within them, and as they tried to groan out his name they found the haze tangling their thoughts together and rather than his title what fell from their lips was “Hephaistos-”

They felt him jerk against them, stilling with a choked noise, and they had a sudden moment of clarity and anxiety that they’d misstepped before he pulled back with an expression that wasn’t quite vulnerable and eyes that blazed with heat and suddenly his mouth was on theirs, hungry and desperate. His hands clutched tightly at their skin and the power and depth with which he rolled his hips and plunged into them made them arch up and clench their eyes shut with a cry, trying to process the sensations and take the pleasure. Clearly his name had not been a misstep.

The intensity only built, his aether once again settling around them, twining through them, like a physical heat, and they gasped into his mouth, “Come on, c’mon- so close- Hephai- Hephaistos-” He groaned, and they dug their nails into his shoulders in an attempt to ground themselves against the pleasure that threatened to consume them as he pressed his full weight down onto them. Their thoughts scattered as they fumbled for words nigh incoherently “You- you’re- close too, right? C’mon c’mon please- so good, feels so good, Heph- Heph-”

Their words were cut off as his mouth sealed over theirs with a torn moan, his hips jerking against them and aether flooding around them as he shook apart. And they were so, so close- balancing on that edge even as he came- and they shoved the hand down between them to find their clit with their fingers and with a pulse of their own aether directly against that bundle of nerves they tipped over that edge with a quiet keen.

It was satisfying, being filled so deeply as they came, and they distantly registered Lahabrea- Hephaistos- shuddering against them as they clenched around him, drawing out both their pleasures. Spots danced across their vision from both the intense pleasure and the lack of air, before they finally came back down and slumped bonelessly against the lounge as they gasped for breath, turning their head away from his to reach it.

Styx lay there incoherently for several long moments, breathing, trying to regain control of their faculties. They felt shaky, and unfocused, but deeply satisfied and it was difficult to fight through that blur of satisfaction back to a state of coherency. His heavy weight pressing them into the couch didn't help - the warmth and the secure weight threatening to lull them into sleep if they allowed it. Hardly unusual - Hyth, Hades, and Themis had long learned that the easiest way to lure them into complacency was to lay atop them and compress them into a soft surface - but the unusual circumstances made them unwilling to allow themselves such complacency.

Not when they were unsure how he would react to the situation.

Focusing themself back to their body, they found Lahabrea burying his face into their neck as he trembled, trying unsuccessfully to calm his breathing. Slowly they reached up and ran a hand through his sweaty hair, making him tense up for a moment before they looped their other arm firmly around his shoulders to anchor him against them and he relaxed.

Their breath left them in a soft huff as the remainder of his full weight slumped atop them and drove the air from their lungs.

Minor difficulty breathing and the tickling of his own breath against their neck aside, it was comfortable and they found themself drifting into a near-doze again as they nuzzled into his hair and breathed deep the scent of coffee, parchment, and ink that suffused him. It was comforting, reminding them vaguely - unsurprisingly - of the Akademia. And it was… warm.

Styx traced inane gestures along his back to keep themself awake as they waited for him to regain his composure, feeling their earlier threads of concern returning as his trembling seemed to compound rather than diminish and he pressed his face more deeply into their neck as he slipped his arms beneath them and clung tightly. While it wasn’t unusual for their partners to be clingy in the aftermath of an intense bout - Hades certainly was, and hell Styx themself was - they… hadn’t expected it from him. Perhaps that had been why he’d been so tolerant of their attachment to him earlier.

Given the nature of his trembling and the slight hitches in his breath occasionally, however, they doubted it was a simple matter of post-coital haziness. He wasn’t crying at least, which was… probably a good sign, but it didn’t inherently mean that nothing was wrong, and maybe they’d been too forceful talking him into this when he had been hesitant, they’d thought it had been simple self-demeaning but if he hadn’t actually-

Styx took a quiet breath and forcibly cut their mental spiral of panic off there. If Lahabrea had truly been opposed to their attention he would have stopped them. Especially given the return of his temper in the months since Pandaemonium, and his other more fiery traits - he’d become more stubborn, not less, so he would have made it perfectly clear had their attention been unwanted.

No, this was something else.

Perhaps it was as simple as an emotional drop after the intensity. They didn’t exactly make it a habit to follow their fellow Convocation Members’ sex lives - except Hades’ because Hyth was a gossip sometimes - so they didn’t know how often he even did something like this. An extended session of intensity after a long dry spell could certainly…

Styx shook the line of thought away and tucked their chin over his head. Speculating would do them no good, and was pointless anyway. For now, the most they could do was to be there as an anchor and a comfort until he was steady again.

They weren’t sure how long it took for his shaking to fade as they traced their hand soothingly across his back and held him close, but it slowly did. Faded away into something truly relaxed and he shifted his head so that he was no longer hiding against them.

It took another few minutes for him to gether himself enough to seemingly realize their continued position and grimace, pushing himself back up. Styx pouted but released him to allow it, wincing as the shift sparked against their overwrought nerves where they were still joined.

They both hissed in discomfort as he slowly pulled out of them, and Styx felt their face burning again as they felt his spend begin to leak out of their gaping hole. They dropped their head back and threw an elbow over their face in an attempt to hide the embarrassment, though they weren’t sure how much they succeeded.

A touch on their abdomen made them peek out and they felt the twist of his aether, and a moment later the fluid was gone.

They probably shouldn’t be surprised he was the type to prefer rapid cleanup, honestly.

Styx considered him a moment, analyzing his expression, and he looked… well, tired. But beyond the obvious there was something vulnerable and uncertain still in his eyes, his movements, and Styx sat up to get a closer look. Or- well, tried. They sat partially up before their lower half gave a definitive twinge and they stilled with a wince.

Unsurprisingly, they were going to be very sore from this.

His brows furrowed but they waved off his concern as they slowly sat up and shifted into a position that didn’t make them twinge. “I’ll be fine, just sore.” They yawned and stretched, reaching their arms above their head. “Give it a few days and it will be gone.”

Lahabrea sighed. “Once again, you prove my point. Your complete lack of consideration for your own-”

Styx leaned forward to slide a hand around the back of his neck and drag him down, pulling his mouth to theirs to cut him off. They managed to distract him for nearly a minute before he caught himself and pulled back to scowl at them.

“Stop that. You cannot expect to avoid a lecture by-” They leaned forward to do it again, grinning as he pulled away to growl, “Styx!”

The use of their name rather than their title made something warm spark in their chest. “Hephaistos,” they shot back, watching keenly as he stilled and his breath caught for a moment. “You can’t compare some minor soreness to a genuine injury and you know it. A potion and a couple of days and it will be gone without a trace.” They glanced down to the darkening bruises on their limbs and waist from the chains and his hands respectively. “Same with the bruises. You need not concern yourself with my health over it, I promise.”

He frowned at them, reaching out to catch their wrist and trace his thumb across the chain-pattern. “I could heal them now.”

“Or you could not,” Styx countered pointedly. “I like seeing the evidence of my dalliances for a few days after the fact. It’s not like anyone else will see them, or they’ll cause any harm. Merely a harmless reminder.”

“I am once against reminded how little I understand your mind,” he sighed, shaking his head.

They hummed, trailing their fingers along the line of bruises on his own neck. “I suppose you’re going to heal these then.”

Lahabrea’s head tilted the slightest bit with a confused expression as his other hand lifted to join Styx’s. “Heal what?”

Styx blinked at him. “Can you not feel them? Granted they’re not exactly what I would call obvious but I left a few bruises too.”

“No…” he pressed his fingers into his skin a bit, and shook his head. “They clearly weren’t deep enough to cause pain.”

They hummed, considering for a moment, then ducked forward to curl against him and rest their head against his chest to drink in his lingering warmth and listen to his breathing, his heartbeat. He stiffened, startled, and they half expected him to finally lose patience with their affection and push them away, but he didn’t. Instead he continued tracing their bruises with the hand around their wrist while his other dropped around their shoulders.

It wasn’t what they’d expected from him, and it made them wonder.

Was it deprivation? In the thousands of years since he’d killed Athena and broken his soul, had he been depriving himself of anything approaching that which she’d burned him so badly with? Or was he normally like this behind closed doors with those he trusted, and he simply wore the cold distance as a particularly effective mask to the rest of them? Judging by his earlier reaction, and previous observations from their time on the Convocation, Styx found the first more believable and the thought sent a pang through them. That he was so touch-starved that he found their sudden touchiness gratifying rather than irritating…

They didn’t know if the painful emotion in their chest was anger or compassion, or a mixture of both, but it made them lean into him a little more and close their eyes with no intent of moving until he made them.

… a decision that lasted until they nearly toppled over when they dozed off, and he settled them off of his lap and stood with a slight grimace as he stretched out an arm and shifted his weight to favor the leg he’d had folded beneath them.

Oops.

They scrubbed at their eyes as they stood and stretched as well, arching their back, and watching his gaze slide across them from the corner of their eye. Even with all that had happened there was some amount of pride at being able to catch his attention of all people.

And with that said-

Styx flashed him an innocent look and took a chance. “Care to share your bed for a night?”

Lahabrea stilled, turned to give them a sharp, searching look from where he was pulling his robes on. “Do you not have another? I’d have thought you’d return home to your lovers.”

They would not be doing that, no. They could, of course, neither would begrudge them it, and they were fairly sure Hyth did it occasionally, but it felt.. awkward, even knowing neither would mind.

Not to mention Hyth would probably eagerly wake them up before the sun in the morning like the godsforesaken early rising madman he was in order to get the details, and they and Hades would have to kick him out of bed and all three of them would spend the whole day cross.

They shrugged, glancing at the chronometer on the wall that they hadn’t been able to see from the lounge. Not quite midnight. “I could, but I wouldn’t want to wake them. Or wake Hades, rather, and if I don’t do it coming in then Hyth will when he starts interrogating me on what I’ve been up to lately - assuming Amphitrite did submit that concept with my name attached as an advisor he might be very cross with me - and I’d rather not do that to him. Besides,” they flashed him a smile, stepping close with as much mischief as they could in their body language, “I thought I’d established that I like dalliances to linger.” They shrugged, leaning back more casually. “If my partners are amenable I prefer to stay the night. If you’d rather I not, though…”

He met their eyes, scanning their expression intently as though looking for something. But apparently finding no hint of falsehood - which there wasn’t any, even if they weren’t voicing their own worries for him - he looked away and continued redressing. “I am not… opposed.”

Perking up with a flicker of relief in their chest, Styx smiled at him and followed him through the portal he made.

His bed was soft and his body was warm, and Styx’s only regret was that they were asleep nearly instantly and didn’t get to take advantage of curling around him.

They almost regretted it the next morning when he awoke them an hour before sunrise, and they realized with horror that he was akin to Hyth in his preference for getting up early.

His grumbling and complaining as they made the process of getting them up as difficult as possible was amusing though, especially since they took the opportunity to be as sleepy-clingy as possible while they still had the opportunity. His irritation was nearly as feigned as Hades’ was, though, so they weren’t too worried.

And they had to admit, he made amazing coffee.

As they walked to the Capitol next to him, they mentally marked the situation off as a complete success with potential for follow ups in the future. It had been fun, much more so than they’d expected, and they certainly wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to do it again if it arose.

Their thoughts scattered and they froze as they entered the building to find a figure waiting inside.

A very familiar figure.

Hythlodaeus turned to greet them with a smile that was just a touch too cheerful. “Ah, good morning Lahabrea.” He turned his attention to them, and Styx felt the sudden urger to bolt. “Hello Styx. I think we need to talk about the quality your advice.”

Lahabrea snorted quietly and continued to his office, leaving Styx at Hythlodaeus’ ire-driven mercy.

“At least it’s not… technically… a shark…?”

“I see this is going to necessitate a very long conversation about technicalities.”

“Look, I’m sorry- it wasn’t my fault-”

“Styx- Styx get back here-”

. . .

A few cameos from Styx’s own crippling self-worth and anxiety issues, it’s fine.

Granted in terms of Laha’s touch starvedness they’re partially right, given my headcanons. I headcanon Laha to naturally be very affectionate and touchy to people he's close to, but then Athena happened (and she was not affectionate and tended to shrug him off unless she had something to gain from letting him) and that completely vanished - one more thing locked behind his mask. And now he's whole again and trying to adjust to it, and Styx is being extremely affirming and affectionate and he can't quite help himself from leaning into those tendencies again.

[sassinake]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren Characters: Rey (Star Wars), Ben Solo | Kylo Ren Additional Tags: There Was Only One Bed, Frottage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Reylo Dry Humpalooza 2024, Dry Humping, that gets a little wet, Make love like war Series: Part 11 of Reylo Sexy One-Shots Summary:

Part of the Reylo Dry Humpalooza 2024 Collection. The escape pod could barely hold the two of them, but Rey was just overjoyed with having convinced Ben Solo to join her and leave the First Order behind. Taking his hand had turned him around, after she’d pulled on him and he’d… relented.

[almondpiglet]

ppl were drawing mikus from all over so heres habesha miku and her lil twin sibs rin and len!!