#ask-a-grumpy-melon

[asktheartpone]

Inktober 3: Fruity

I'd be remiss if I didn't do this! Here's @ask-a-grumpy-melon's Melon Grumps in, well, a watermelon dress! It's unclear if she actually hates it or if she's just embarrassed.

[doeblossom]

@ask-a-grumpy-melon @whirlwindflux @allyooops i dub them blueprism. blueprism supremacy >:D

based on this post

[alossum]

a little something silly for the the thing what @ask-a-grumpy-melon and @whirlwindflux got going on. my inner weeaboo got the best of me. All these cuties being cuties

bonus ponysona watching the show:

[ask-healthy-light]

Got inspired by @ask-a-grumpy-melon's recent reply to my doodle between Light and Melon herself, as well as by my partner's suggestive suggestions, so I decided to make a little comic ^^ First time drawing a lot of Anthro and I think I did pretty well!

@allyooops

Added individual panels with and without background under the cut

With background:

Without background (transparent):

why yes i did spend the entire afternoon working on this how could you tell

[daisystwistedgarden]

mornings in the pomefiore dorm are, well, interesting.

after the descruction of ramshackle dorm by the styx agents, you and grim are invited to spend the length of the repairs in one of pomefiore's spare rooms. it's a stunning dorm, truly, shining with jewel tones and elegant decor that sets it apart as the pinnacle of beauty amongst the others. but life continues on after yet another overblot, and with school to attend, you have plenty of mornings to experience the range of pomefiore's unique morning routines.

vil schoenheit wakes you up with the sun, insisting that a good day begins with a thorough and meticulous morning routine. you're dragged into his private bathroom and provided an herbal tea blend as he coaches you through a multi-layer skincare routine. your head is swimming as instructions and serums alike are given in his authoritative tone. is this a morning routine or a test? then it's off to yoga in his room as a face mask soaks into your tired skin. rinse, pat dry, then moisturize, all so your skin is prepped when he then guides you to his vanity. vil acts as though doing your makeup alongside his is such an inconvenience, yet refuses to let you wriggle out of this step-- as an honorary pomefiore resident, you will be as graceful and elegant as the rest of the dorm. you feel more awake (and much more sparkly) as you're brought downstairs to join the rest of the dorm for breakfast. a wide array of dishes catch your eye, all politely requested and passed between manicured hands as you consume the most dignified meal you've had in ages. grim is more than happy to shove various fruits down his greedy gullet as the morning progresses, but finds himself quite grumpy as he's forcibly wiped clean right after the meal is dismissed by a particularly demanding housewarden. the whole routine feels exhausting, and you wonder how vil brings himself to do it each and every day. but it's hard to argue with how energized and put together you feel by the end of the day, waltzing back to pomefiore when the day would have usually worn you ragged.

another morning, you're awoken by clinks and clanks somewhere downstairs, and a particular voice carries across the dorm that piques your curiousity. rook hunt is found in the kitchen, assisting some other pomefiore students with breakfast preparations. his face lights up as he sees you, and an energetic greeting from the frenchman makes you more exhausted than when you woke. he coaxes you into a seat at the edge of the kitchen for an impromptu lesson about the work ethic of pomefiore's finest, chattering as he hands you a mug of some warm tea. he's attentive to both you and the students around him. a student struggles with cutting open one of the fresh melons for breakfast and he swoops in to assist without complaint. the flex of his muscle underneath his nightclothes catches your eye as he uses a big knife to cut through the melon like butter, leaving everyone awestruck for just a moment before he continues on with the preparations like nothing had happened. grim makes his way downstairs as you and the vice housewarden are setting up the grand dining table, and you hear his groggy complaints as rook ushers you back upstairs to get ready for school. the hunter moves fast-- by the time you're done getting dressed and making yourself somewhat presentable, he's at your door once again, fully dressed with neatly applied makeup, welcoming you back downstairs with flourish. he oozes hospitality as he glides across the dining room back into the kitchen, effortlessly fixing place settings and touching up dishes as students begin to gather for breakfast. rook's across from you as the meal begins and flashes you a charming smile over his mug as he takes a sip. for such an oddball, he really is put together-- that is, until you squint to see a few freckles he didn't cover in all his hurrying this morning, visible only when he turns to ask vil how he slept. not so perfect, after all?

you don't realize how late it's gotten one morning, not until the door swings open and a panicked epel felmier begins shaking you awake. you hear something along the lines of "we overslept!" and "did ya even set an alarm, dummy?" in all your grogginess. grim begins to complain about the yelling, but hearing vil's sharp tone from somewhere in the hallway makes you sit straight up in a cold sweat. you and epel stare at each other with wide eyes for a few seconds. then it's a flurry of movement-- epel rushes out to get dressed, and you're yanking open the wardrobe to grab your wrinkled uniform you neglected to hang up the night before. epel had snuck in after lights out to complain about the endless rules at pomefiore with you, and the conversation lasted long enough that you both crawled into bed far too late to remember trivial things like "alarms" or "school". but now the consequence of that transgression rear its ugly head as you search frantically for your belt and grim's ribbon. you and epel nearly collide in the hallway once you're both halfway decent, and you tuck grim under your arm as the three of you book it to breakfast. vil's disappointed gaze watches you take your seat next to the first year. you're preparing for a scolding, but one never comes-- epel distracts the housewarden with a request to tutor you both for an upcoming potions exam. your supposed studiousness saves you a lecture, and epel playfully nudges your foot with his under the table.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Bluebird — Azriel x Reader — Part IX

Summary: Deciding to accept Azriel's offer, Reader's world as they know it is about to change. In more ways than one.

Click here to be added to the Bluebird Taglist! Please remember to check your settings and make sure you can be tagged! 💕

Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: Some suggestions of smut and heavy petting, but nothing too major!

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Azriel stared out of the huge wall-length windows of the River House, watching shadows move in the sunlight that bathed the estate. 

He hadn’t been to bed. 

In the mere hours since he’d left the human realm, leaving Y/N, their conversation and his offer behind…his mind was too crowded to sleep.

So he’d come to the River House, wind still clinging to his skin and clothes from hours of aimlessly flying, and found his family gathering for breakfast.

“Where have you been?” Cassian had asked him.

“Just flying.” Had been Azriel’s explanation. The questioning looks he’d earned in response had told him they all suspected something more was going on with him. 

And how right they were. He didn’t know why he was being cagey, why he couldn’t just be open with them about the human woman who had utterly captivated him—

It was scary, he supposed. To step out of the bubble they had around them, just the two of them.

But if Y/N did agree to come across the Wall with him…it was time to be open, honest.

As if on cue, a kick landed on his shin. Amren. 

“Cassian is supposed to be the absentminded one, shadowsinger,” she drawled. “Are you present?”

Cassian grinned at the jibe. “Someone’s grumpy because she’s hungry. Poor baby.” His eyes slid to Azriel, ignoring Amren’s glare. “Our miniature friend is right, though. What are you daydreaming about?”

Azriel became acutely aware of every present pair of eyes on him. Rhys’s. Feyre’s. Cassian’s and Mor’s, Amren’s and Elain’s. If Nesta had been present, she’d probably have stared, too.

Az cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. Never comfortable with so much attention on him. “There…uh…”

Rhys frowned, realising, at once, that whatever this was held weight. “Az?” he angled his head.

He must have been pale, because Feyre frowned and asked, “Azriel, are you well?”

He didn’t know why he was fumbling this so much. Perhaps because for all he loved his family, for all he’d stared centuries down with them, his feelings were things that he’d always kept tightly locked away, and they had respected that. If he wanted them to know something, they would know. If not, they wouldn’t ask. It was how it had always been.

But this was different.

He was serious about Y/N, and his first step in proving that was to tell those closest to him about her. 

He cleared his throat again, bracing his arms on the table. “There’s something I want you all to know.”

“We all know you have the biggest wingspan, boy,” Amren speared a slice of melon. “It’s hardly breakfast conversation—”

“Amren.” Mor cut her off brusquely. She was staring intently at Az. Could tell this wasn’t the time for jokes. “Go ahead, Az.”

Azriel clenched his fists at his sides. “I…I have fallen for someone,” he swallowed a lump down, far out of his comfort zone. “I’ve fallen in love with someone. A woman. A human woman.”

Silence.

The faces of his family gazed back at him, a mosaic of expressions varying from surprise to confusion to the twitching of baffled amusement. They were waiting for an explanation, or some indication that this was a rare, random joke that Azriel had decided to crack. And Az found that he couldn’t bear them considering that. He squared his shoulders, the severity not moving from his face. 

“Her name his Y/N,” he continued, heart thudding in his chest. “She hails from a village in the human lands, and she’s magnificent. She helps run her father’s inn. She plays piano stunningly…” stop talking, stop talking, stop talking. Facts were just spilling from his lips, dumping themselves on his friends. He clamped his lips shut, squeezing his hands together again. 

And once more, silence. 

Until Cassian peered closely at him and stated, “You’re not joking, are you?”

The shadowsinger shook his head. “No.”

Rhysand’s chair creaked as he sat up straight. “Well…how did you meet this woman?”

“When you sent me to the human lands to get an idea of the unrest there. I heard her playing piano late at night and I…I went back to hear more. And I kept going back, despite you telling me not to. I’m sorry for going against your order, Rhys, but I’m not sorry for the reason that I did.”

The High Lord and Lady shared a glance, clearly communicating mind-to-mind. Az wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they were saying. 

Mor cleared her throat, coaxing Az’s eyes to her beautiful face. There was kindness there, warmth. “And you say you love her, Az?”

“I do, Mor. Since I first met her, I’ve fallen harder and harder.” His cheeks burned a furious red. “I can’t deny that that is what I’m feeling. And that’s why I want to share this with you all.” 

The initial shock seemed to dissipate a little as shoulders around the table relaxed. Mor smiled broadly, and Cassian quickly followed. 

“No way,” the Illyrian General chirped. “That’s amazing, Az.”

“We’re happy for you, Az, of course,” Feyre added. “Just a little surprised.”

“You should bring her here to meet us,” Amren grinned, flashing white teeth. “If she can hack it.”

Her remark was as close as she would come to congratulating Azriel — but the sentiment was there, hidden amongst the words. 

Of them all, Elain was the only one who hadn’t spoken.

And Az…Az, for some reason, avoided looking at her. 

“Funny you should say that, Amren,” he quickly said. “I’ve invited her to come here tonight, after she’s closed up the inn. I want her to see Velaris at night, in all its brilliance.”

“So we’ll get to meet her,” Mor grinned wider. “This is great—”

“If—if she’s available to come, that is.” The shadowsinger quickly cut in. 

Because he had to be realistic and still consider the possibility that Y/N would reject his offer. And if that was the case…well, he couldn’t bear to think of it right now. 

He certainly couldn’t bear to share that particular detail with the others. Not just yet. 

“Well,” Rhys offered a smile, “if she is available, we’ll be delighted to meet her, Az. Really.”

“Yes,” Elain’s voice, soft and unconvincing, finally drifted around the table. “We will.” 

At the same moment, Azriel’s gaze drifted to take her in. She looked…shocked. Perhaps a little perturbed. 

But for what reason? She and Lucien were giving things a go. Shouldn’t Azriel be able to do the same?

He tore his eyes away from her, dipping his chin in quiet acknowledgement of her comment. That was all he could offer right then. 

“I hope she comes,” Feyre commented, sipping her drink. Her voice was bright, enthusiastic. 

“So do I,” Azriel agreed. 

Gods, he really did. 

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ 

Ale sloshed over the lip of a tankard, joining the smattering of droplets that were already coating the floor and making it sticky. The rowdy men in your line of sight didn’t seem to notice the mess they were making amidst their rowdiness. They’d been here a good few hours, now. Their eyes had long turned glazed, their speech slurred.

It was all background noise.

Background noise, as you stood behind the bar, staring into space. Time was ticking by, the clock hands crawling steadily closer to when Azriel would arrive and wait for you with hope.

Ten o’clock chimed. Two hours to go. Were you going to join him? You weren’t sure. You’d been contemplating it the entire day, on so few hours sleep. You’d gone through the motions, done your jobs, been that normal, plain young woman who was in charge of The Bluebird Inn. You’d compiled pros and cons in your head, the list of them growing with each thought.

Pros and cons, however, seemed not to come into a situation driven so heavily by desire. 

You wanted to believe Azriel so badly — believe that he was good. Was it so out of the question that such a thing could be the case? It didn’t diminish what you had seen out on the road with your father, but…

But after weeks of no contact, having Azriel close enough to touch last night…it had you hoping, once more, that both things could be true. That the world was not so black and white, and there was colour out there, a world of colour that Azriel could fly you right into—

Before you realised what you were doing, your hand was grasping the bell behind the bar. You tugged at the rope, causing a distinct ringing to cut through the arrogant raucous of the men. 

“Last orders!” you called. 

Every pair of eyes swivelled to blink at you. “What?” One man asked.

“Last orders,” you repeated. 

“But it’s only ten o’clock! You don’t close until midnight!”

It was an effort not to roll your eyes. This group had been here since they’d stumbled in from their day’s work. The idea of cutting their drinking short was inconceivable to them.

But you were going. You were going to join Azriel, and go across the Wall, and experience things you’d never experienced, whether it was a good idea or not.

“I’m closing early tonight,” you gave a shrug. 

The brute that had been spilling ale all over the floor gaped at you. “Why?”

Good question. You couldn’t exactly tell them the truth, and if this was going to get back to your father, you at least needed a valid excuse—

“I’m unwell,” you tried unconvincingly. “Sorry.”

Swine-like eyes narrowed on you. “You don’t look unwell, girl.”

“…It’s my cycle.”

A silent pause. And then, in an instant, every man in the room was on his feet. You tried not to smile in triumph; it worked every time.

They couldn’t leave quick enough, as though, if you truly were on your cycle, it was somehow contagious. You saw the last customer out of the door and bolted it shut. Waited until their chatter disappeared into the distance before you turned and began a frantic cleanup mission. 

This was…mad. Truly, thrillingly mad. A reckoning of sorts, you imagined, because crossing that boundary from one realm into another was like sealing a fate. There was no coming back from this — this, that was not merely dipping your toe into the world of the fae, but submerging yourself in it, taking a deep gulp of air and disappearing beneath its surface. A nerve-wracking prospect, but…also an exciting one.

And didn’t it prove to you that you still trusted Azriel at least a little? You had to, surely, to be so willing to take his hand and let him pull you into the unknown. 

Perhaps…perhaps you were tired of having that little bit of doubt. Tired of wondering what might be out there, beyond your meagre existence. This trip would surely put those doubts to bed, one way or another. 

Two hours until Azriel’s arrival seemed both too much time and not enough at all. You filled it with your usual closing duties, making quick work of tidying up and making sure the inn was spotless. Afterwards, you would ordinarily spend some time at the piano, or simply retire to bed. Tonight, your feet carried you upstairs to get ready. 

You combed your hair and changed your outfit choice too many times, not once recognising the girl who stared back at you in the mirror. She was somebody bold and daring — somebody willing to question what she’d always known. 

And you wanted to be her, no matter the fears twisting your stomach. 

Once ready, there wasn’t much time left to wait. You quelled your nerves by knocking back a glass of whiskey and welcoming the burn. Your eyes stayed on the clock. Eleven-thirty. Thirty-five. Forty. Fifty-five. 

When you heard the distant chimes of the village clock announcing midnight, you felt that familiar sensation of awareness. Like an ember under your skin, it burned, and it spread. 

You wiped whiskey from your lips and slipped out of the door, stepping into the courtyard. You were cold, despite the warm night. 

And even colder when you felt the gust of air that came from a descending figure, landing feather-light in front of you. 

Azriel was almost too beautiful to bear. 

You stared at him with an intensity you couldn’t keep a lid on. And he stared back at you, took in your shirt and breeches, your braided back hair, your shoes. He clocked within a second that you were dressed to go out — a breath of relief forced its way out of him. 

“You’re coming?” he breathed, and then shook his head, seeming to remember his manners. “Sorry. Hello.”

You swallowed. “Hello.”

He paused. Dared a step closer. “I half expected to find you in your nightgown. Or to not see you at all.”

“I…contemplated it. Not coming, I mean.”

Another step. “And what tipped the scales in my favour?”

You sucked in a breath, inhaling his scent. He was close enough to touch, now, and the smell of wind mixed with his natural aroma, creating a dizzying concoction that, for a moment, had you forgetting how to speak. 

You shook yourself out of it, blinking a few times. “I think I’m tired. Tired of…only knowing what I’ve been told. I think it’s time I saw things for myself.”

Azriel’s broad shoulders seemed to relax a little. A beat passed of heavy silence, heavy eye contact. He stared at you like you were the only person left in the entire world. 

And then you jolted just a little, as cold, scarred fingers touched yours in a light, tentative brush. He waited to see if you would pull away. 

You didn’t. 

Those fingers explored more. Wrapped around yours. Laced with yours. And then Azriel was holding your hand in his. 

“Let me share my world with you,” he whispered.

Maybe it was the weight of his hand, or maybe the raw pleading in his tone. Whatever it was…you knew you didn’t need any more time to consider. 

“Yes.” Was all you managed to respond. “Yes.”

Just like that, Azriel was yanking you closer, pulling your body flush to his. You waited to feel your feet leave the ground, for him to lift you into the air. 

It took you a moment to register that his arms were winding around you tightly in an embrace. That it was a hug he’d so fiercely pulled you into. 

He held you, both firmly and gently, his chin pressed to the top of your head, his hand cradling the back of it. You were stunned, stiff as a statue — but then you were sinking into his hold and welcoming its security, its…passion.

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am,” Azriel murmured, pulling back to gaze at you. “Truly — thank you. For trusting me with this.”

“I haven’t made any decisions yet,” you pointed out. “I just want to see for myself…if what you’re saying is true.”

But even as you spoke, you knew it wasn’t that simple. Heading across the Wall with Azriel was sealing a fate far bigger than you’d stopped to consider. Whether you were ready for it was anyone’s guess.

The shadowsinger took your words in his stride, nodding. His hand found yours again. “Shall we go?”

You were really doing this. The idea made your head spin. 

But you did not pull away. You did not run back inside, no matter how much a tiny part of you screamed at you to do so. Perhaps you were stronger than that now. 

“Yes,” you nodded, and braced yourself. “We shall.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Flying was precisely as you remembered — exhilarating and terrifying and cold. The night sky eddied past you in a star-streaked blur, and you were soaring, hurtling forwards towards a world unknown. 

You and Azriel did not speak. He seemed content to leave you in your thoughts, though you felt his gaze on you more than once, drinking you in. You couldn’t help wondering what he was thinking. Whether he deliberately chose to press you firmly against him and rub soothing circles into the small of your back, or whether it was a subconscious thing. 

You closed your eyes at one point, focusing on the feeling of the chilled wind on your face. 

But it was another feeling that had you suddenly alert. Opening your eyes again. 

It was hard to explain, but…something like a staticky charge crackled and sparked. You knew that the Wall was not a physical thing to behold, but rather an invisible barrier…yet somehow, you knew that was what you were feeling. Like a huge sign in bold, screaming at you: TURN BACK. DO NOT COME ANY CLOSER.

“I can feel it, too,” Azriel spoke into your ear, as though he’d read your thoughts. It was the first words that had left him since he’d carried you to the skies, and they were soothing and warm against you. “It’s the magic. Those who built the Wall abhorred the idea of humans and fae alike crossing over. I think the feeling it offsets is supposed to repel people.”

You held onto him a little tighter as the feeling grew stronger. “Clearly it doesn’t work.”

“No.” His eyes found yours. “Not when there are such enticing reasons to cross.”

You were thankful that the wind put a stop to the furious blush that crept up your neck. You stared forward, and Azriel’s arms tightened around you, and you knew that you were about delve into another realm. 

“Ready?” he murmured, before that charge thrust its way through your body like a bolt of lightning. 

It was brief and yet nauseating. Your stomach lurched, your head spinning. And then, as if clearing fog, it was gone. You had the distinct feeling of being someplace completely alien — a place where the grass was greener, the scents richer. A place where magic was the blood in its veins, snaking through the ground beneath you and breathing vibrant life into the land. 

But you had barely a chance to take in your surroundings before Azriel was coaxing your eyes back to him. 

“Now that we’re in Prythian,” he said, seeming to visibly relax, “I’ll winnow us from here.”

You gave the briefest glance to your surroundings — a forest so like the many in the human realm, and yet also something more. The thrum of dangerous life seemed to lurk just beneath its surface, and with the moon bearing down on you, you didn’t much like the idea of waiting around to see what might emerge from the dark. You dipped your head into a nod, and Azriel’s arms tightened around you. 

But before he could make a move, you were speaking, stopping him in his tracks. “There’s something I don’t understand.”

He paused, head angling curiously. It made a few dark hairs slide across his forehead, and the urge to reach out and touch the silken strands was a burning one. 

“What’s that?” he asked.

“You want to show me your home, but why show me at night time, when the world is asleep?” Besides the fact that this was the only time you could sneak away from the prying eyes of villagers.

But Azriel’s mouth seemed to lift into a subtle, beautiful smile. One that was telling — but telling of what?

“Velaris does not sleep,” he said, and then you were disappearing into starlight.

A brief burst of darkness that lurched you from place to another. The feeling of both flying and falling, of being nowhere and everywhere all at once. And then your feet were suddenly on solid ground. 

You didn’t realise you’d closed your eyes until the sounds hit you first. Distant music, mingled with crisp laughter. The sounds of enjoyment, fulfilment. You snapped your gaze open to put a picture to what you were hearing. 

You went so preternaturally still, you could almost be mistaken as fae. 

You must have been perched upon a viewpoint, to see the city in its entirety like this — but not too far up to miss the details. Restaurants teeming with activity both inside and out front, gatherings of customers who talked and smiled and laughed without a care in the world. Vendors selling their wares despite the late hour, peddling anything from food to wooden carvings to flowers. People wrapped in each other’s arms and dancing merrily to a song that a young female strummed on a lute in the busy street. 

If not for the dark blanket of stars above your head, you could be forgiven for thinking it was daytime. Your shoddy little village was never this bright nor light, no matter the hour on the clock.

This was Velaris, and it truly did not sleep.

You stared and stared and stared, for so long that your vision began to blur and smear the lights below into swirling shapes. It was almost easy to forget you were alone, just you observing this beautiful, seemingly perfect world. But a hand touched your arm.

“Would you like to take a walk?” Azriel asked, coaxing you to look at him.

Such palpable hope sat within his gaze that you couldn’t bear to look away. And when you nodded your agreement, that hope shifted into damn near elation.

The city seemed to welcome you into its arms as you began a slow stroll right through the heart of it. Azriel gave you your space, always remaining a few paces away. You could have sworn, in your periphery, that you caught him clenching his hands now and then, as though he didn’t know what to do with them. As though all he wanted was to reach out to you.

But he left you to acquaint yourself with the sights and sounds and sensations of Velaris. Never had you been amongst so many fae, and you half expected them to sniff out your mortality, to turn and stare or even make a grab for you. If they noticed you were not one of them, they paid it no mind, barely casting you a glance. Some of them greeted Azriel cheerily as they made merry and socialised. Not a drop of misery seemed to taint the blood of this living, pulsing place. 

You came to a stop on a grand bridge that arched over a glinting river, its waters stretching further out than your human vision could comprehend. Only a moment after you leaned against the carved balustrade, Azriel was emerging in your peripheral vision, stopping beside you and mirroring your stance. 

You could feel his gaze on you. And after a moment, he asked, “How are you feeling?”

A slow, stunned shake of your head was all you could manage. That was a question that had many different answers. You weren’t sure which one to give. 

But you found yourself turning to him, your brow pinched, lips parted. “I don’t understand how any of this works. What…what is this place?”

Velaris, obviously — you knew that much. But was the entire fae realm like this? Was this what had been hiding on the other side of the Wall in the centuries since it was established?

Azriel seemed to think on your question for a moment, combing through his answer. He angled his body towards yours, the way his hands twisted around each other hinting that he was…nervous.

“When I took you flying the first time, I mentioned that Prythian is divided into seven courts,” he explained slowly. “Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, Dawn, Day and Night. Do you remember what else I told you?”

How could you forget? You’d turned it over in your mind enough that the words had begun to fray at the seams. 

“You said you’re from the Night Court. That you’re part of the High Lord’s inner circle. You’re his spymaster.” Your gaze swept around. “So this is the Night Court.”

Azriel dipped his chin. “It is. But it’s a city in the Night Court. A secret, guarded city. There’s more out there than just this.”

“Secret and guarded? Why?”

For a moment, silence stretched between you that felt as long as the winding bridge. You found yourself focusing on the ebb and flow of the water beneath you, watching its languid dance. Until warm fingers landed on your arm.

The touch — tentative and gentle — coaxed your gaze back to Azriel. You studied him, drank in the sincerity and openness on his face. This was hard for him, you realised — to be so forward, to bare all. He was, perhaps, as guarded and secretive as this city itself. Perhaps more. 

But his soft hazel eyes told you that he wanted to push through that difficulty. For you.

“It’s secret and guarded,” he answered huskily, “because it is beautiful and good, and the entirety of the Night Court is not. The entirety of Prythian is not. There are other places like this, of vibrancy and love and light, and then there are places of pure, evil darkness. Places that I would never dream of you venturing. They exist as truly as the good places do. As Velaris does.”

Once again, your eyes took in the area around you. On the other side of the bridge, a couple were hunched over a table, in their own world, sharing quiet words and quick kisses. A few buildings down, a group of friends roared with laughter as they spilled out of the door, arms around each other and happiness on their faces.

This place was beautiful. It was…life. 

And the existence of darker places did not change that, did not steal its essence. Good and bad both simply existed. In people, and in places. 

Just like in the human lands. 

Just like Azriel had been trying to tell you all along. 

“There’s good and bad everywhere…” you murmured quietly, the words sinking in, hitting home. How could you deny it when the people here clearly were not scared, not running and screaming and begging for their lives?

There was movement, and you felt Azriel’s side press against yours. “There is.”

And you could see it now, like a fog had been lifted. But there was still one pressing question that plagued you. One you couldn’t tamp down on as you angled yourself towards Azriel proper.

“Why bother, though?” you asked, studying him. “Why go to these lengths to prove this to me? You don’t owe me anything. Why…why would you bother taking the time to make me see this?”

Azriel gazed back at you, something burning in his eyes. He pursed his lips, like he was trying to force his words back down, trying to stop them spilling out. 

A fight he ultimately lost. 

“Because I am selfish,” he said, staring at you fiercely. “And I couldn’t bear the thought of not being able to see you anymore. Of you thinking I’m a monster. I would not care if anyone else were to think so, but…”

“…but what?”

“But not my Bluebird.” His voice was raw, raspy. He reached out cautiously, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Not my Blue.”

A breath shuddered out of you, and with it went your resolve. You knew you could no longer fight what been pressing you for a while, now. Could no longer deny what was right in front of you. 

You cleared your throat, feeling the shivers that pulsed through your skin with Azriel’s hand still hovering so close to it. So badly, you wanted to lean into it. But you forced your gaze back to the brilliant city of Velaris. 

“Life seems so lovely here,” you admitted, your voice surprisingly hoarse. 

“It is,” Azriel concurred. “It really is. And you, Y/N…you deserve loveliness.”

You stared fiercely at the water, begging yourself not to get choked up. You’d never had loveliness. 

A warm, comforting hand pressed against the small of your back. You shamelessly allowed it to. 

“Would you like to meet my family?” the shadowsinger asked.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You were going to be sick — and not from the flying.

Your feet touched down on a beautiful, ornate estate — grass trimmed and decorated with fountains, ornaments, decorative hedges. Trees and obscure plants and beautiful flowers. Never had you been anywhere so grand. 

And before you — a huge, stunning house of pillars, winding staircases, giant windows and just…pure opulence. It intimidated you just to look at. 

“This is…this is where they live? Your…High Lord and High Lady?” The words felt foreign on your tongue. 

“It is.” As Azriel stepped up to your side, you realised his arm was still wrapped around you. “Did I ever tell you she used to be human — my High Lady?”

Your gaze shot to him in a flash. “What? How is that possible?”

“It’s a long, elaborate story that I’ll allow her to tell you, when she feels like it. But it’s true — she and her two sisters were once human, and they were all turned fae.” 

A thought that set your heart thudding at a gallop. Had they once been lowly village girls, like you were? You hadn’t considered that you might have anything in common with these people.

“Shall we?” Azriel’s arm tightened around you, and you welcomed it. You needed the grounding comfort.

With a deep breath and a nod, you allowed yourself to be led up the broad stone steps that trailed up to the mammoth front entrance. You followed Azriel’s lead, wide-eyed as he opened the front door like it was his home, also, and led you inside. 

The interior was, unsurprisingly, as decadent as the exterior, but you found yourself too nervous to take in any details beyond polished marble flooring and huge, painted portraits that hung on the wall of beautiful beings. You did, however, stop to take in the portrait that was undoubtedly Azriel. 

“Feyre — our High Lady — is an artist.” Azriel stopped beside you. “She painted all of these.”

“And a damn excellent artist, too.” Behind you, a voice of pure, cloaked night echoed through the giant room. It added with a hint of glimmering humour, “Not that I’m biased, of course.”

You turned at once, knowing that such a voice could never come from a human. Your heart almost stopped at the sight of the male who leaned against a carved arch, and you blushed furiously at the thought that he could probably hear such a thing. 

He certainly resembled Azriel, in his golden skin and dark hair. But his eyes were of a stark, peculiar shade — violet — and his ears very much pointed. Something about the smug ease with which he stood screamed at you that this — this was the High Lord of the Night Court, looking regal in a black button-up shirt and dark trousers. 

And beside him, a woman — female — of such otherworldly beauty, it was hard to imagine that her golden-brown hair and blue eyes had ever been dulled by mortality. 

“He is biased,” she said with a soft smile, fondness in her eyes. She drank in the sight of you, and there was no judgement, no disapproval — just simple curiosity. “Y/N. Welcome to our home.” 

“This is Rhysand and Feyre,” Azriel explained beside you. “High Lord and High Lady.”

“Rhysand?” The High Lord echoed jovially. “You sound like Feyre when she tells me off. Just Rhys will do,” he sketched you a flourishing bow, “and as my beautiful mate said — welcome to our home.”

“I…I’m afraid I don’t know the customs, where greeting a High Lord or Lady is concerned,” you cleared your throat. “But thank you for having me.”

Feyre smiled warmly. “You’re very welcome. Shall we get a drink? The others are waiting.”

Your stomach turned with nerves, but you nodded. As Azriel stepped forward, falling into stride with Rhysand, Feyre stayed behind, turning to you. 

“It’s nerve-wracking, isn’t it?” she smiled at you gently. “I had already been turned fae when I first came here, but…I can’t imagine coming here as a human who’s never had much to do with our kind.”

Our kind. Clearly her mortal roots were but a distant memory. 

“It is,” you agreed. “This is…hugely out of my comfort zone.”

“Just stick with me, Y/N. But you have nothing to worry about.” Her smile grew. “We’re all just happy that Azriel has found someone. Even Elain.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Even Elain. What the hell did that even mean?

It stuck in your mind as you held yourself through introductions, your curiosity such that you were waiting for an Elain to be introduced to. But through the names that were thrown at you — Cassian, Amren, Morrigan, Nesta — that one did not come up. 

The tiny Amren was terrifying despite her small stature, and yet you found her quick wit and remarks to be personable. Morrigan — Mor — had invited you to sit with her the second the introductions were over, and she seemed almost…excited by your presence. Cassian was jovial, warm, quickly making it clear that he would joke and banter with you as much as he would with his family. 

Ironic, then, that the least forthcoming with any warmth was Nesta — who surely could relate to your humanity, even if her own was long gone. 

She’d barely spoken to you beyond a terse greeting. And since then, she’d stared you down from the other end of the table. You couldn’t help noticing that her eyes continuously darted to the round edges of your ears. You couldn’t read the ferocity in her gaze.

It was an effort to ignore it as conversation bloomed around the table.

“So he was just hovering above your inn like a little creep?” Cassian’s broad grin was savage, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he plied you with questions. “You should have shot him down with an arrow. Taught him a lesson.”

Your lips twitched as you answered, “Somebody else saw to that. I just ended up helping him.”

“Boo.” The Illyrian warrior snorted. “How boring.”

Beside you, Azriel rolled his eyes, but a soft smile played on his lips that told you he rather enjoyed the teasing. You couldn’t help relaxing at the…normality of it all. How easy and light and warm this conversation was.

How naive you had been, to assume that the fae were simply cold, severe beings. The furthest thing from this loving family unit. It didn’t even seem to be a bizarre circumstance to them, that they had been gathered to meet at such a late hour. If not for the huge windows letting the night sky in, you’d be forgiven for thinking that their energy and enthusiasm was indicative of day time.

“From which village do you hail, Y/N?” Feyre asked you, sipping from her wine. You’d tried not to stare too long at the casual intimacy between the High Lord and Lady — the little touches you so naturally wanted to mimic with the male beside you. She added, “Perhaps Nesta and I would have heard of it.”

At that, Nesta lifted her chin a little. You could have sworn a glimmer of curiosity streaked through her eyes, there and gone in an instant.

“Northern Swancross.” You answered, eyes darting around the opulent dining room. “It isn’t anything grand. “Most of its residents are living in poverty.”

Feyre sipped her drink, offering an understanding nod. “Perhaps too far north for us. I don’t recognise the name—”

“I do,” Nesta said sharply — the first time she’d really spoken to you. “I remember reading a pamphlet once, about fae attacks on human villages. Northern Swancross was named in regards to an attack there a couple of decades ago.”

Silence and stillness filled the space that conversation had lit up moments before. Your mouth went dry. You felt the cool touch of a shadow caressing your arm.

“That would have been my mother,” you answered, clearing your throat. 

Nesta stared at you a long moment, a slither of what seemed to be…solidarity…seeping through the cracks of her icy reception. She lowered her chin in the slightest of dips, and somehow, you knew exactly what that minute gesture communicated. We have both suffered at the hands of the fae. And yet, somehow, here we both are.

“That’s awful,” Rhysand’s voice cut through the moment, quiet and laced with sympathy. “I’m sorry for the loss of your mother. We all are.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

“Nesta, Elain and I also lost our mother,” Feyre supplied. “To illness, rather than to the fae. But we understand what the loss of a parent is like. Many of us here do.”

A kind and heartbreaking sentiment, and yet all you could focus on was the mention of that name again. Elain. She must have been the third sister. 

You didn’t know why you felt such preying curiosity about her standing in this group…or her standing with Azriel, and why her support for his happiness was a thing Feyre felt was worth mentioning. You couldn’t stop yourself wondering if her absence was a deliberate thing. 

As if she’d read that thought, Feyre cleared her throat. “You’ll have to forgive Elain’s absence. She’s not much of a night owl.”

“Despite living in the Night Court,” Cassian added, and his booming chuckle at once chased away the tension that had seeped into the room. He grabbed the bottle of wine and refilled his glass. “So tell us more about you, Y/N.”

You did exactly that — and found yourself peculiarly willing to do so. Such a sheltered life you’d lived with no one to truly call a friend, that it now seemed that years of pent-up conversation came flooding out of you. And as hours ticked by, pedalling closer towards morning, you found yourself relaxing, forgetting that you were human and they were fae. They were just…people. Kind, good people. 

And in turn for the information you shared with them, they told you about themselves, answered your questions, explained things you didn’t understand. Mor spoke to you like she’d known you for years rather than minutes. Even Nesta’s reservedness began to thin into something more cordial. One-by-one, the High Lord’s Inner Circle pulled you into its fold as if a place for you had been carved there for a very long time. 

They did not balk — not even a little — at the idea of you being of worth in Azriel’s life. 

Azriel himself was largely quiet throughout the night. He seemed to take a backseat and allow you to navigate this situation as you saw fit, only interjecting with comments and responses every now and then. But at your side, he remained a solid, steadfast presence, his shadows a thing of comfort. And the urge to lean against him as the night wore on was a pressing, growing one. 

You didn’t want to resist anymore. Didn’t want to take a step backwards. You’d seen what he’d wanted to show you, and there were no more weak excuses you could come up with as to why your involvement with Azriel was a bad idea.

You wanted him…and you were done denying yourself him. 

It was only when the night drew to a close that you began to feel the tiredness waiting on the edges of your mind. Nesta was the first to leave, and soon after that, everyone else was standing and saying their goodbyes. 

“You’ll come back soon?” Feyre asked you, her hands squeezing yours. She seemed genuinely thrilled that Azriel had brought you here. 

You glanced at the shadowsinger beside you, a smile playing on your lips. “If he’s willing to bring me.”

A soft, low chuckle sounded in Azriel’s chest. But there was nothing comical about the way he promised, “Whenever you want.”

Bidding the High Lord and Lady goodnight, you descended the front steps with a lightness that you hadn’t felt upon arrival. Tonight had been…easy. Simple. There was nothing more to it than merely getting to know Azriel’s friends. Getting to know Azriel’s world.

And when the doors closed behind you, it was just you and him alone, for the first time in hours. 

He strolled at your side, back through the opulent front garden. Neither of you seemed to know who would speak first.

Until you turned to him and said, “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Az stared back at you, pausing for the slightest of moments. “To the River House?”

“And to Velaris. To…to Prythian.” You, too, paused. “To the truth, I suppose.”

His chin dipped just slightly. “You deserve the truth.”

A few paces forward, you walked in silence. It wasn’t until you were under the canopy of a huge, overhanging tree that you pressed your back against the trunk and allowed yourself to stare at him. Properly stare at him. To take in his beauty.

He stopped a few steps away, asking, “What?”

So many things you wanted to say. I’m done fighting this. I’m done fighting us. I want to dive further into this world with you. I want you, Azriel, whatever the hell that means for me—

“Who is Elain?” The words spilled, unplanned and undignified, from your lips. Your eyes shuttered for a moment as you regained your composure. “I mean…I know who she is. I know she’s Feyre’s and Nesta’s sister. I just mean…who is she…to you?”

Azriel was still for a moment, his brow pinching slightly. He took a step closer. “She’s…a friend.”

“…just a friend?”

“I…I won’t deny that I wondered, at one time, if she might be more than that.” His scent hit you as he continued to step closer. “But she has a mate. And I wondered that before…before I met you.”

The bark of the tree bit into your back as you held yourself firmly, grounding yourself in the moment. You inhaled a small breath, trying to ignore the dizziness that his general proximity seemed to provoke. But as he stepped closer still, now mere inches from you, you knew you were fighting a losing battle. 

Still, you lifted your chin and stared up at him. Stared, as he closed the gap between your two bodies and pressed you further against that tree, his body seeming to line perfectly with yours despite your height difference. His breath tickled your neck as he leaned into your ear. 

“Were you worried about that, Blue?” he asked huskily, a smile in his voice. 

You couldn’t control the way your breath hitched in your throat. Lie, save face, deny it, your mind screamed at you. You weren’t sure you currently had the mental capacity to do so. 

“You said you’ve had lovers,” you rasped back. “I was just wondering if, perchance, Elain had been one of them.”

A mix of both relief and disappointment filled you as Azriel pulled back — not far, but simply enough to stare sincerely into your eyes. His face was open and soft, despite the teasing that had been in his tone. 

“No.” His tone was a promise. “Elain has never been my lover. I don’t…I don’t want you to worry about that. About her.”

Your shoulders relaxed just slightly. But as your gaze began to lower from his, his hand was suddenly at your face, cupping your jaw, holding your attention firmly on him. 

“It’s been a long, heavy night for you,” he murmured, studying you closely. “I want you to tell me honestly how you’re feeling.”

Perhaps the most loaded question he could have asked. You swallowed, slowly shaking your head. “I…I’m feeling lots of things. Relief…that what you told me about this place was true. Shame…that I was obstinate in my ignorance—”

“You do not need to feel one bit of shame. There are always two sides of the coin—”

“And fear. I feel scared.”

Your words lingered between the two of you, truthful and unwavering. They were out in the open, now. You found yourself not wanting to keep them to yourself.

“I feel scared,” you repeated, “because I have nothing to hide behind, now. I can’t run and deny what I feel. You’ve shown me the truth, and I…I can no longer deny my own.”

His hand still cupping your face, Azriel brushed his thumb over your cheek. His eyes remained fully trained on you, not willing to look away for a second.

“There is no going back from this night,” you whispered, staring back at him. “And I’m glad about that. But I’m also so scared.”

“I don’t ever want you to feel scared. Not with me.” His hushed words, spoken quietly for your ears only, landed on your lips. “I just want to make you happy, Blue.”

It took a moment for you to realise that the soft noise that sounded — a small cry of both relief and need — came from you. You couldn’t hold yourself back any longer. You were done with resisting. 

Your hand cupped the back of Azriel’s head, and you pulled it down, slanting your mouth over his. At once, he hummed against your lips and moved his hands to your waist, pulling you closer against him. 

This was everything. Azriel was everything. He just wanted to make you happy, and you wanted to make him happy, too. He was not fae or a shadowsinger or a huge, imposing figure with wings. He was just Azriel. Your Azriel. Your salvation. 

The male you were so, so glad to have been proved wrong about. The male you were falling in love with. 

Your tongue pressed against the seam of his lips, and he parted them for you, allowing you to dip inside. At once, his taste mingled with yours, and you moaned softly, your hands grasping at him, wanting to feel him against you as you kissed him harder, fiercer. 

And he kissed you back just as ferociously. You may have been inexperienced, but you knew the taste of desire on his tongue, and you knew exactly what you were feeling when he hardened against you, his arms banded around you. 

“Blue,” he broke away, panting. His eyes were glazed as he stared down at you, his chest rising and falling heavily. “We’re getting carried away. Tell me what you want. I need to know what you want.”

Him. All of him. Every single inch of him.

Your eyes trailed down to the hardness that was unmistakably outlined through his leathers. Such stark hunger bolted through you that it sent shivers coursing down your spine. Had wetness pooling between your legs. 

And from the way Azriel’s nostrils flared, and a deep, guttural noise vibrated in his chest, you could only guess that he’d scented it. 

You pushed up onto your toes, brushing another kiss to your mouth. A light one that he seemed ready to get lost in, before you were pulling away, your eyes clashing with his again.

“I want you to take me back to my home,” you told him breathlessly, your fingers biting into his leathers. “And I want you to stay.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Not one bit of the journey was memorable. Not the flight back to the Wall, or that brief flash of darkness as you were winnowed from there, right back into the taproom at the Bluebird Inn.

Your only focus was on Azriel. The feel of his body pressed against yours, and how…how it would feel even better when you both rid yourself of clothing.

And gods, you were nervous. But you could feel in your very bones — you were ready.

This night had, indeed, been a reckoning. This night had, indeed, changed things forever, and made you realise that you had no good reason to deny yourself of the brilliant fae male who consumed your every thought.

You trusted Azriel. You wanted Azriel.

And when both your feet and his touched the wooden flooring of the inn, your eyes clashed only momentarily with his before you were pulling his face down to kiss you. And kiss you, he did. 

It was hot and greedy and desperate, a kiss that could wait no longer. He made a low noise against your mouth, his hands finding your hips as he walked you backwards and pressed you against the bar. It was tongue and touching and too many clothes, and you were done waiting, done thinking, as you dragged a trembling hand down the firm feel of his leathers, down and down until you were cautiously folding your palm over the bulge in his pants. 

You had no idea what exactly you were doing, but the way Azriel gasped against your lips seemed to be a positive reaction. One that only spurred you on further. 

Even without properly seeing him, you could tell he was huge. Your hand barely fit over what pressed through his breeches. You explored the length of him, wishing that clothes weren’t in the way. That it was just skin on skin. 

Azriel let out a choked moan — one that seemed pleasurable. Until he pulled away.

“Wait, Blue,” he panted, staring down at you. “Just…tell me you’re sure.”

You had gone past sure. Sure wasn’t a strong enough word. Sure was nothing against the certainty that roared in your veins.

“I am,” you promised, applying pressure with your hand. “Show me…show me what to do, Azriel.”

It was a pure, animalistic growl that broke from him then, and in one swift movement, he was lifting you up and carrying you over to the bar, perching you atop and slotting himself between your legs. 

“I’m going to make you feel so good,” he kissed you. Kissed you again. Kissed you harder. “I promise, my bluebird.”

“Please,” you begged softly, grasping at his leathers. “I want you.”

Kisses deepened, turned more ferocious. Hands wandered, began roaming, exploring. You felt the cautious touch of a hand gliding over your breast, warm fingers permeating your shirt. You gasped, arching into the touch. 

Perhaps that was why you didn’t hear it. Perhaps you were so distracted, so hungry for the male before you, that the quiet footsteps that approached were heard by neither of you. Not even by Azriel’s fae senses, his shadows. 

No, you were both oblivious until a cold, stern voice filled the room. 

“Y/N?” Devin stood against the doorframe, not taking his eyes off Azriel’s giant form. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

bluebird tags: @kennedy-brooke @rosessndri @anae-naea-zacheria @iambored24601 @sirenpearldust @v3lv3tf0x @lupinswolfsbanes @alohaangels @feyretopia @janebirkln @a-dizzle777 @moonbirde @natashachelsea @navyblue-eternity @multi-reader @sfhsgrad-blog @makemeurvillain @lyinginameadow @101crows @bsenpai @honeyandhalfmoons @florencemtrash @ssmay123 @historygeekqueen @mika-no-sekai-blog @ktsskgzxlu @basicbittywitty @mybestfriendmademe @cali-flow3r @lalachat @honeybeeboobaa @azrielsbbg @eatinggummybearsisacrime @ilovemangomorethanu @rhysandorian @coralseacourt @berryzxx @pequeno-atlas @secretlyhers @grimoiregrl @just-jess-losers @happywolves81 @anama-cara @spideytingley @raccooninurwalls @despoinasstuff @ntimacy @brekkershadowsinger @ariaaira @lesehexe @aunicornmademedoit @fauxdette @moonlight-kr @sekiro1310 @fightmedraco @astarlitsoul @quinzzelx

[asktheartpone]

Day 23- Angel/Devil

Who's this mischievous little melon? Why, it's Melon from @ask-a-grumpy-melon! Who knows what kind of schemes she's got cooking up.

[alossum]

Bumble Berry Buzz has such pinchable cheeks - look at this serious face! I am only a mortal pony! My maternal instincts!

The adorable little one from @ask-a-grumpy-melon

[wiselyghost]

 🏀 KNB boys react to you challenging them to a 1v1...but you're terrible

🩵 scenario: you challenge your basketball boyfriend to a 1v1 match… unfortunately, you possess the athletic grace of a paper bag in the wind. chaos, love, and secondhand embarrassment follow.

🔗 warnings: crack fic | you're already dating them | fluff + dumbassery | unathletic reader | some light cussing

📎 note: for entertainment purposes only, i fear you would not survive a real game against these freaks. (Guess who's my favorite 🤭)

🐯 Kagami Taiga

He's excited. Way too excited. The minute you challenge him, he's stretching, cracking his neck, spinning the ball on one finger like he's warming up for the NBA Finals. "Don't hold back, alright?" he grins, bouncing on his toes. But he should've known something was off the moment you dribbled it with both hand like a toddler and sprinted full-speed into the pole. "...Wait—are you seriously—" You jump back up with confidence (and a bruised ego), but now he's panicking. "You sure you don't wanna sit down? Mabey some water? First aid???" Still, he humors you. He plays soft at first... until you try to trash talk. "You scared, Taiga?" That's when he dunks so hard the hoop shakes and you swear the earth tilted. "You ASKED for this," he says, out of breath, laughing as you flop to the ground in defeat.

🧢 Aomine Daiki

He grins like the devil when you challenge him. "Aww, how cute. You think you've got a chance?" It takes ten seconds for him to double over laughing. You try to crossover, and instead cross yourself out of bounds. "YOU SAID YOU PLAYED ONCE IN HIGH SCHOOL—" "Yeah! Once! And I quit after i got hit in the face with the ball!" He doesn't even try anymore. He's laying on the floor mid-court as you "Dribble" (Chase the ball like a lost toddler). "Yo, babe—are you... are you trying to do a layup or summon a demon?" Eventually, he lets you score—then immediately scores 20 in a row while smirking. "Oops. My hand slipped~" 💛 Kise Ryouta

"Ehhh~?! You wanna go against me?" He gasps like you just proposed. "You're so bold! So cool! So inspiring!" He hypes you up to the point you believe you're capable of greatness... Then you throw the ball straight into his face. The gasp he lets out is drama-king level. Falls to his knees holding his nose like you just ended his modeling contract. "BABE MY FACE!!! I HAVE SHOOTS NEXT WEEK!!!" You're apologizing and he's whimpering dramatically... until you offer to kiss it better. He perks up immediately. "Okay fine, I forgive you. But you're buying me boba and massaging my ego later~" (You don't even finish the game. He just posts you on his story with “💛 my #1 fan… not my #1 baller lol 💛” )

🧊 Akashi Seijuro

He says nothing at first. Just nods. “As you wish.” You’re barely into your first possession when he pauses. Blinks. Adjusts his stance. “Your form is… unusual.” You’re hunched over. Palming the ball like it’s a melon. Shooting like it’s a dodgeball. “…Have you ever played this sport before?” You lie. “Yes.” He tilts his head. “Interesting. You appear to be actively losing to gravity.” Instead of playing you seriously, he walks over and calmly starts correcting you like a private coach. “Here. Like this.” He adjusts your hands. Moves your feet. His voice is calm but you can feel the judgment in his soul. The game never finishes. He buys you a milk tea and says, “I admire your confidence. Let’s never speak of this again.”

🍬 Murasakibara Atsushi

"Eh... too much work," he groans when you first challenge him. You promise snack if he plays, and now suddenly he's 7 feet of grumpy motivation. "Only 'cause you said there's gummies after." You try to start the match seriously, but the moment you do a sad little dribble that bounces back into your own shin, he squints. "Are you even trying?" he mumbles, standing completely still as you huff and puff past him like a lost puppy. He doesn't even chase you. He just holds the ball over your head like a toddler with candy. You jump. he yawns. "So sloooow~" Eventually, he just scoops you up, grabs the ball, and walks both of you to the hoop. "Atsushi! You can't dunk me—" "Mm. Too late." He gently deposits you into the net like laundry and then turns to you with the most deadpan voice: "I win. Feed me." You ask for a rematch. He lays flat on the floor and says, "Nope. I'm retired."

🎯 Midorima Shintarō

The minute you say "1v1 me," he visibly frowns. "This is a waste of time. You'll hurt yourself." You ignore him. You're full of passion. He's full of regret. And then you start the game... and he's left blinking behind his glasses in pure disbelief. You throw the ball backwards. You run with your in the air like you're doing jazzercise. You yell "KOBE" and miss the backboard entirely. "...What the hell was that?' He says nothing more the next five minutes—just silently adjusts his glasses every time you embarrass yourself anew. But he stays. Watches every tragic attempt. And when it's over, hands you a towel and says, "Your lucky item for today was a sports magazine. Clearly, it didn't work." You laugh. He sighs. And somehow, he still buys you lunch after. (And mutters "idiot" under his breath, but with love.)

📎 don’t repost, translate, or copy my work. reblogs = sweet love 💙 💌 want a custom fic? check my commissions & request info here

[allyooops]

Someone requested Melon for the draw six characters thing, but I only have two others!!!

Anyone else out there have a request for a fellow tumblr pon?

[ask-healthy-light]

Simple doodle of Melon Grumps from @ask-a-grumpy-melon ^^

@allyooops

[luveline]

I've read your vampire eddie fic and its soo lovely I adore them being weird toghether <3 and I thought how will reader and eddie pass the summer? I totally see her saying shit like Vlad please put on some sunscreen lol and eddie be so grumpy

“It’s not that you don’t like it,” you’re saying. 

“No, that’s exactly what it is.” 

You sit down on the picnic blanket by his hip with a plate of summer fruit sweating in your hands. You’ve dotted a few ice cubes through the mountains of it, water melting, turning pink from the melon and yellow with the pineapple juice as the sun bears down.

“The sun is good for you,” you say, taking a slice of apple with green, bright rind in between two fingers. You have very pretty hands, Eddie’s thought that ever since you met, and they’re prettier still because of how you use them, you’re oh so gentle. “Just like this.” 

He won’t let you feed him, taking the apple as you press it to his lips, juice and water wetting his fingers. “The sun does nothing for me. I’m dead.” 

“Are you?” you ask, a genuine curiosity to your tone as you put the plate in front of him. Eddie, on his front, anticipates your next move before you’ve decided, not just because of his super senses but also because you’re a predictable creature, who loves him very much. Unlikely and true. “I thought you were only half dead,” you say, resting a hand by his ribs and leveraging yourself across his back in a hug. “Well, I thought you were undead.” 

Eddie is regrettably undead. “I forgot you were the expert on my condition,” he says, putting the apple slice in his mouth whole.

“Your condition,” you say, your face slotting into the back of his neck, forcing him to close his eyes and settle into the blanket, grass beneath it crisp from the heat. 

“My vampirism.” 

“Ah, I thought you meant your behavioural issues.” 

“Of course you did.” 

You don’t say anything back. Quiet, your hands slide up in front of his armpits, your head lolling heavily to one side. You mouth a word against his neck, a second and third, but Eddie can’t decipher what it is you’re saying even with his incredible hearing, can only feel the soft curve of your lips as they shutter closed, hot like a fresh bruise beneath his ear. 

Eddie nudges you to slide off of him, turning, cautious of the plate, to offer you his arm, and to see your face more clearly. You’ve forgone any of your fun makeups today, weary of the heat, all your wrinkles and lines in stunning detail under his gaze.

You lay on your side and Eddie lifts the arm that isn’t supporting him with his finger bent into a tight ‘n’ to stroke the skin under your chin. “You’re pretty,” he says, his knuckle rubbing back and forth. 

“You’re beautiful,” you say back. The hair at the nape of your neck is damp with sweat, and as you both lay there in the humidity, a bead of it races suddenly to sink into the fabric of your top. 

“You’re really pretty,” he says, ignoring your deflection —though for you, he doubts it’s a deflection at all, only a thought you’d had and spoken without qualm— in favour of lavishing you with some more love and praise. He opens his palm and touches his fingertips to your cheek, conscious of the heat, stringing the words together slow as the heavy pour of a maple tapper, “I don’t like the sun, it’s hot, and I’m melting, but I don’t think I mind it when you’re here too.” 

Your heart does a jump, to his smugness, an audible caper of your pulse. “Everything’s better when we’re together,” you say.��

He nods severely and lifts your chin just a touch, tilting his head to the side to kiss you. The pressure of his fangs is forgotten, a blood sate too far away to ignore the more nefarious longing that thrums at the centre of his chest, but overpowered anyways by practice, and desire; he’s gotten a thousand times better at kissing you, because you like to be kissed, and he likes to give you anything he can. 

He can’t pretend he doesn’t like this, either. You cover his hand with yours and wade in like a quick tide, pulling back and pushing in, like nips without the pain. Your hand slips into his hair. “I love you,” you say, “but you’re sweating like crazy.” 

“You’re sweating worse,” he says. 

“We’ll have to take a vacation.” 

“Where do you want to go?” 

“Literally everywhere cold.” 

Eddie can’t leave Hawkins. He needs blood, and there’s only one sheriff who’s willing to source it for him. But it’s a nice idea, a fantasy he won’t ruin for you. “Where’d you want to go first?” 

“I wanna go to that place with the Northern Lights. We’d never complain about sweating again.” 

You squint at him. 

“What?” he asks. 

“Where do you want to go?” you ask. 

“Anywhere with you.” 

“Well, you’d have to.” 

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” he asks. 

“I’m your only portable blood bag, Eddie.” 

He lays back on his back, covering his eyes with an arm as the other comes to rest on his soft stomach, whirl of a scar thick beneath his shirt. “Never gonna happen.” 

You shuffle closer to him. “One day,” you say, laying down next to him with your face nearly flat to the blanket, the heat of your body a palpable thickness he wouldn’t change for the world, dehydration inevitable. “You’ll give me a nice sharp kiss and that’ll be that.” 

“Never.” 

“Imagine it.” Your voice turns to a whisper. 

“Never, babe,” he says, he promises, the weight of his arm over his eyes like an iron. 

“I’ll just have to bite you instead.” 

You open your mouth and press your teeth to the hill of his shoulder, dull and wet, your breath like a kiss before you let your lips drift shut and give him a proper one. “Love you,” you say. 

“Love you, freakazoid.” He wrestles you into a cuddle he’ll regret sooner rather than later, wishing his vampirism were better at keeping him cool. He’s cold to the touch most of the time. Right now he’s baking. “But I’m not biting you,” he says into your forehead. 

You laugh breezily. “Not today you’re not. That’s why I made fruit salad.” 

[temper-temper]

Okay I wanted to throw my hat in the ring because Honeydew Delight is in second place??? How?!?! This isn’t to say that Blueberry is at all a bad character- she seems very cute! But y’all are ready to ship her off when you know extremely little about her! So far all we have seen on the blog is that she is more shy/reserved and that she is romantic- all well and good but is that the best ship for Prism?

I believe that Honeydew is the best potential partner for Prism and here is why:

Out of all the siblings we have seen Honey most often and we know that she is a bit of a trouble maker/ prankster with a heart of gold. She loves and has huge loyalty to her family but isn’t afraid to get a bit dirty either. She has the personality to not only put Prism in his place when needed but also to join him in some good shenanigans. She won’t let him get into the same trouble he had gotten into before but also wouldn’t expect him to stop being himself. She loves adventure and I bet would love to see the world with Prism. She is strong willed and really sweet so she has enough back bone to not be completely swept up in him (and ignore red flags if they came up) but also enough patients to help him grow. She doesn’t expect Prism to be her knight in shining armor, she just wants him to be her partner. Through thick and thin. At least that’s how I see the relationship!

Again this isn’t the say that if Prism were to get with Blueberry it be bad- I just personally think a hiking buddy who wouldn’t flinch at Aerial when she comes a knocking would be more attractive to Prism than a woman who would hid behind him. He just seems like the kind of guy who wants a powerful lady and Blueberry doesn’t seem to be that!

Besides I think Blueberry Joy deserves to meet her own knight in shinning armor to sweep her off her feet!

Anyways for reading all this have something I whipped up super quick! This piece originally had dialogue but I’ll spare you 😳

asking over here as to not clog up melon blog, but I'm deeply curious. Which sibling did you like best with Prism for the mistletoe??

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

La Squadra x reader: How They Flirt

Yikes. They’re trying-

Content: casual flings, slight suggestiveness, creepy Melone, different relationship depending on character

Characters: all La Squadra (-Sorbet and Gelato)

Style: quick headcanons

-Formaggio: Very casual flirt, tends to walk that line that makes you wonder if he’s actually flirting with you or just being nice. And he’ll flirt with any cute thing that catches his eye, doesn’t mean he’s looking for anything serious, but giving him attention back will make him hover around a bit more. He wants to see what will happen.

He’ll offer to buy you a drink at the bar, asking if the seat next to you was taken, and if not he’ll playfully wonder out loud why. You really don’t have a sweetheart? Well he’s nobody’s first choice but if you want some company for the night, he’s a pretty good conversationalist~

He’s a natural, much more socially aware than most of his squad mates. He knows leaning forward while you talk will make you feel heard, and asking you questions about yourself will make him seem genuinely interested in you. By the end of the night, his hand’s on the back of your chair and you’re sharing drinks and laughing together. Maybe you’ve even given him your number. But don’t take it personally when the second you turn around suddenly he’s chatting it up with the next cute thing he spotted. He’s not even trying to make you jealous, he’s just having a good time, and there’s plenty of him to share. If you do actually want to get somewhere with him, make it obvious…he likes that and he’ll be willing to give you more attention for bold behavior.

-Illuso: God, he is BORING. His body language doesn’t even convey any particular interest in you, and he doesn’t even ask about you, just starts listing his appealing traits to try to convince you he’s a good time and worth spending an evening with. You suspect he just wants money from you, but he’s just not very good at flirting. He really does want you to let him take you out on the town for the night, but he’s too prideful to ask outright…it feels like begging to him. You’d be better off just asking him yourself if he wants to spend the evening with you. He has some nerve acting like he wasn’t trying for that when he says: “Well, if you insist~”

-Prosciutto: He’s extraordinarily blunt but…when you’re as handsome and serious as he is it honestly works.

Don’t try to play coy with him if he decides to approach you, he wants some companionship tonight and he’s not gonna work that hard for it. You only get one chance with him before he decides if he does or doesn’t want to spend an evening with you, so be assertive back if you think he’s someone you wanna play with.

“You want a drink on me or not?” he asks, resting his elbow on the bar and gazing at you with those intense eyes. He won’t ask again. It’s yes or no. And if you say yes he’s gonna order you whatever he thinks you want.

He’s a horribly grumpy and audacious companion…but once you get used to it he doesn’t have ill-intentions. He just wants a good time tonight, like most people who go out alone to a bar on the weekend.

-Pesci: One word. AWKWARD. He does Not know much about flirting, beyond the basics. But knowing the basics doesn’t mean he knows how to put them all together. People like compliments…but also confidence and devil may care attitudes…and how is he even supposed to know what you like…?

He didn’t mean to just. Sit there and stare at you from across the restaurant. He didn’t realize he was even doing that until your eyes meet and you awkwardly wave him over, since clearly he wants something from you.

He settles for the only thing he can think to do as he awkwardly shuffles over to your table. He tells you he likes your shoes. It makes you laugh and you ask him his name and invite him to sit with you, willing to see where this might go. You end up giving him your number, since you couldn’t deny a bit of curiosity towards him.

-Melone: He walks by your table at a restaurant and not so subtly tosses a cocktail napkin in front of you, with something written on it:

“Nice thighs~”

Signed with his number and his name with a heart next to it.

Gross, what the hell…?

It doesn’t take long for you to catch his eye, and you shake your head and glare at him disapprovingly. He just tilts his head at you, his eyes narrowing as his lips turn up into a smirk and he blows you a kiss.

GROSS. What the HELL?

You have no idea if he’s just being confident, stupid, or straight-up a creep.

You subtly text one of your friends to come pick you up so you don’t have to walk home alone tonight.

You have No idea what that guy was Expecting to get out of that interaction, but he can forget it until he improves his flirting game, if that’s even what that was-

-Ghiaccio: He is NOT the type to humiliate himself by flirting with random people. He finds it desperate, and he’s not much of a quick fling or even “romantic relationships” person anyways. If he does end up attempting to flirt with you, it’s because he’s known you for a while and truly has some sort of mind-consuming crush on you. If it didn’t literally keep him up at night, he’d probably never ask you out and just bottle it up forever.

It’s a bit terrifying to see him stomp over to you, that signature intenseness permeating his body language. Despite how naturally cold his body was, his face looks warm and he speaks especially loudly while trying to give you a kind compliment. He doesn’t beat around the bush for very long. “WOULD YOU LIKE TO JOIN ME FOR DINNER?!” he screams at you, unintentionally. Say yes and he’ll tell you he’ll pick you up at 6:30 exactly and then hurry off in a huff of embarrassment. Say no and he’ll activate White Album and escape as fast as possible and avoid you for the rest of the day, ending the evening with an apology text and insisting you both just forget he ever said anything. Please. He will DIE if you mention it again after rejecting him-

-Risotto Nero: He’s very much like Ghiaccio in the sense that he’s not interested in some sort of quick and casual thing, or relationships in general. He’s got a job to do, he doesn’t have time for dating. But if he’s known you for a while and enjoys your company…there’s a slim chance he’ll attempt to flirt, with the intent of inviting you on a date. It’s a bit awkward, and you really can’t tell what he’s going for at first when he mentions a nice, secluded spot for a private stroll. It honestly kinda sounds like a threat when he words it like that, though you’re sure that’s not his intent. But being direct with him will make him more direct with you.

Ask if he’s inviting you on a date and he’ll say yeah, that was the intention…only if you aren’t busy and actually wish to spend some time with him.

You’re sure it’ll be a bit quiet and awkward at first but…you’re flattered to be invited, and don’t have any plans that night so…may as well.

[gatitties]

Warm

─La squadra di esecuzioni x teen!fem!reader (platonic)

─Summary: You make some new friends on your little trip to the beach

─Warnings: none

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

When Polpo told Risotto that a new person was joining his team, he wanted to refuse, but for obvious reasons, he couldn't say no to his boss, they already had enough problems on their own, he didn't need to have Polpo watching his every move in detail. Money was already a problem, thinking about having to feed another mouth... made him grumpy for a few days, the rest of the team wasn't very enthusiastic about the idea of ​​having to put up with another teammate either, what if that person is an idiot? someone who doesn't cooperate? problematic? what if that person is completely incompetent? too weak? The cloud of annoying thoughts encompassed all the members of La Squadra a week before you arrived.

Risotto found himself overthinking the situation as if it was the first time a person was thrown into the team without being able to express his opinion on whether it was a good idea or not, it happened with the majority that now make up the team, all without a vote to choose, they were forced to be the killer dogs of the mafia. But as the leader of the squad, he needed to be firm, respectable, he had to take careful steps with the new recruit, even when he preferred not to have to confront the problems between some of the members, he had to have some presence as a leader and impose himself.

But when he saw you walking through the door that day, he felt that all the weight he carried on his shoulders lightened, you were a teenager, you seemed nervous and insecure, your steps were careful like those of a prey surrounding its predator, everyone ignored you while Prosciutto led you to your room. Risotto wasn't the best at deciphering people's behaviors, he's preferred the comfort of solitude for a long time now, if he can help it, he'd rather not face other people's problems, take the fast track to fix things or ignore them until they decide to disappear somehow, but the moment his eyes fell on your hunched figure he knew you weren't going to cause him any trouble.

He had a lot of headaches because of Ghiaccio, Formaggio and Melone, a lot of confrontations, differences at the beginning of the relationships as a team, although Prosciutto, Pesci and Illuso helped establish a much more peaceful environment, he always had the final say in the discussions, he had to remain with that frown, imposing look and stand up to his full height to instill that feeling of superiority, even in moments where all he wanted to do was run away to his room to rest from all the fuss. It didn't work on you. His terrifying appearance ─as many others describe─ and his intimidating methods didn't affect you, yes, the first few weeks were uncomfortable for you, but that was until you adapted and began to create bonds with the team, despite not having to always be on guard, you never seemed to be withdrawn towards his behavior when he raised his voice in the most heated discussions between the team, perhaps because most of the time they were words not directed towards you.

"Psst Risotto are you there?"

And you found yourself in his office more than anyone else did, no one ever entered that small dark room unless he called them personally or they had an occasional question, but most of them knew how to do their job, what they should or shouldn't do, you didn't, so you preferred to ask before doing something that could be a problem, the small sofa against the wall next to the table was like a second bed for you the moment you started to gain confidence with your leader. He didn't think having someone keeping him company while he had an insufferable pile of paperwork was really a positive thing, normally he would rather lock himself away and concentrate on his tasks without distractions, in complete silence. Inevitably Risotto got used to you frequenting and perpetrating his privacy, anyway it's not like you were his shadow, you were just a little curious and he, being the oldest of the team, had most of the answers to your questions.

"Do you want a cookie? I stole them from Ghia, but he'll think it was Melone so it's okay."

"Didn't he catch you last time? You know how Ghiaccio is, if you steal from Formaggio he won't complain or yell at you."

"No, Illuso snitched because I left him without hot water to shower the day before" you laughed like an evil little elf, chewing the cookies, they tasted better when they weren't yours" Plus Maggio's taste weird, I think he has stomach problems, they're digestive and it feels like you're eating dirt."

"How do you know what it feels like to eat dirt?"

"I just know…"

He decided to continue with his work, feeling more and more frustrated because the damn computer didn't seem to pay attention to him, lately he had been having some complications, despite everything, his expressionless face remained just as impassive, and it was in these moments that he knew that not even he, who had almost perfect control over the features of his face,  could deceive you, that the lies didn't reach your ears because your senses were much stronger, enhanced by your stand, it was extremely easy to discover someone's true thoughts.

"Risotto… you're trying to copy with the windows key, you're supposed to press control c and v."

You peeked over his shoulder as soon as you knew his neutral mood was starting to mix with irritation, you too had discovered a lot of things about the team in these two months, Risotto was like a grandfather trying to understand the technologies, you took the time to make him a little list with little commands because he always seems to forget them, you even made a little doodle next to it, although the drawing looked like a deformed clown made of sticks, the only thing distinguishable was the hat with bells and the red eyes, if not, it could very well have been a random gothic clown.

After a while you always go off to do something, he's started to appreciate you spending a little bit of your time with him, it's a little reminder that he doesn't always need to be locked away in his solitude with work stuck.

"(Y/n), was looking for you."

"Hey Pesci" you quickly closed the kitchen cabinet, hoping he wouldn't see you putting the half-eaten packet of cookies back in its place "What do you want?"

"Prosciutto and I are going to the coast tomorrow, I thought you'd like to come, you can go to the beach while we take care of some personal matters."

"I'd love to! Thanks for telling me."

The man gave you a small smile, he had remembered the little chat the other day, while you were helping him make dinner, he remembered that you said that it had been a long time since you'd been to the beach and he thought it wouldn't be a problem if you accompanied them even if they went for other reasons. You made sure to leave a small backpack ready before going to sleep, the next morning you made sure to leave enough food for your little pet, although you threatened Illuso to keep an eye on it in case something happened, with everything ready, you settled into the backseat of Ghiaccio's red car, ─who only trusted Prosciutto or Risotto to drive it─ the breeze was cool, just what you needed for a hot summer day, the music in the car sounded much better than in Formaggio's old van and Prosciutto turned up the volume when he heard you and Pesci humming the song on the radio, you don't know if it was because you sang badly and he didn't want to listen to you or because he liked the song too, but it livened up the time of arrival.

"We'll be here in a couple of hours, be on time..." Prosciutto glanced at you, lighting a cigarette, waiting for Pesci to finish grabbing some things from the trunk "and watch your things, there are a lot of people with long arms around here."

You gave him a thumbs up as you checked that you had everything in order in your backpack, while they went deeper into the suburbs, you approached the beach with enthusiasm. Pesci gave you some directions, since he knew the area, you managed to get to a part where there were hardly any people, you didn't waste time, once you arranged your things, you jumped into the waves to cool off. You spent enough time in the water for your skin to wrinkle, so you decided to lie down on your towel, letting the sun dry you slowly, all your tranquility was broken when a beach ball hit your face.

"Ow sorry! Can you pass it?"

A rather unruly black-haired boy in an orange swimsuit came a little closer, waiting for you to throw back his form of entertainment, his companions waited behind, it was a quick glance, but it was certainly a group of strange people, just like your group, they all seemed so eccentric that they could be stand users, but it wasn't something that worried you too much. You smiled at the boy and quickly returned his ball, he thanked you and everyone continued with the game, this event happened at least four more times, apparently the boy was terrible at controlling the ball.

"I'm really sorry, I usually play much better, I swear, I don't know what's wrong with me today."

"Don't worry about it, what's your name?"

You threw the inflatable ball back, starting a small talk with the one you knew as Narancia until his friends yelled at him to get back in the game, it took him a few seconds to react, looking at the ball in his hands and at his friends, his eyes shining for a moment before he spoke again.

"Do you want to join? Fugo is fed up with us losing because of me, do you want to be my partner?" you looked at his group for a moment and nodded, you still had some time before the two brothers returned "Great!"

You decided not to question the swimsuits of his friends, one with green holes and strawberry print, another purple with ladybug pins on the sides, another with a tiger animal print, not to mention the man who had the swimsuit with a zipper in the middle of his… yeah, the only normal ones were the gothic man, the girl and Narancia, much simpler than the others. After a brief introduction the game began, you and Narancia were definitely not a good team, you lost almost every game, but in exchange you laughed a lot at his stumbles, unlike the others, the boy didn't know how to control his body on the sand. You were happy to receive a message from Pros warning that they would take a while longer, and would call you when everything was finished, which gave you time to have one of the craziest Uno games.

"Giorno you son of a b-" the gothic dad wanted to lash out at the blond, but a warning look from Bruno made him curl his tongue "Stop skipping me!"

Fugo stopped playing after the first game because Narancia was getting on his nerves, Mista had the entire deck of cards with him and Bruno was having a little fight with you over who won first, since Abbacchio and Giorno were too focused on their fight, Trish decided to just watch as chaos formed.

"Uno! Uno!"

Since no one was paying attention to Narancia, he almost ended up winning, almost because you all decided not to let him win, putting aside rivalries to focus on a common enemy. The buzz on your phone sounded as Mista shouted that he had won, laughing in his friends' faces, he had somehow managed to discard the large amount of cards ─which could very well have been the entire damn deck─ that he had, taking a quick glance you read the message from Prosciutto, it was time for you to go.

"Thanks for inviting me to hang out Narancia, it's been nice meeting you all, but I have to go now."

You offered them a small wave as you gathered your things, they replied briefly, your small and unexpected company had been nice, before you could leave Narancia grabbed your wrist gently.

"Hey wait, do you want to exchange numbers? We can meet up to play more times."

"Sounds good, sure."

You added your number to his phone just like he did to yours, promising to talk soon, you said goodbye again, you wiped the dry sand off your legs and headed out into the streets, abandoning the relaxing sound of the waves, on the way to the agreed upon spot you saw a souvenir shop, you debated internally for a few seconds whether to go in or not.

"I don’t think anything will happen if they wait five more minutes."

You shrugged, entering the small shop, there were a ton of pins, magnets, postcards… it had a small area for fishing gear too, but what caught your eye the most was a small camera, it looked a bit outdated, it was even on sale, maybe the reason you ended up buying it along with a magnet for your poor fridge at home, it felt bare without anything decorating it. With long steps you quickly arrived where they left you at the beginning of the day, you wanted to make a comment about why Pros seemed paler than usual, almost sick ─although still smoking─ and Pesci looked all sweaty as if he had done a triathlon, but you decided to keep quiet, clearly they didn't have as much fun as you, you noticed how the discomfort piled up on their shoulders, creating a heavy and silent atmosphere, so you took the liberty of trying to make whatever had complicated the mission for them go away.

"Pesci, Pros! Smile!"

You raised the camera just as the two turned to look at you, they could barely react when the flash momentarily blinded them, Prosciutto had a hard, darkened look, although a little lost since he wasn't expecting the photo, he was hunched over with one hand on the car door while Pesci, much more unprepared, came out with his eyes half-blinking, you also caught how some of the things he was carrying slid directly into the trunk carelessly, you, on the other hand, were occupying the lower right corner with a small closed-eye smile. The photo came out slightly overexposed, burning a little the edges where the sun illuminated the most, plus it was slightly crooked and poorly framed, you will have to practice your skills more from now on.

"Where did you get that?" Prosciutto looked over your shoulder, grimacing at himself, you hadn’t caught his best angle "Whatever, come on, I don’t want to spend any more time here, I hate the saltiness in the air."

The light music and your constant chatter about new friends made the tension in the men’s muscles disappear for the rest of the trip, focused on giving short answers or asking you questions about your day, you kept them from thinking too much about what had happened during their time in the small coastal town. The one-sided conversation was slowly fading away, your loud voice filled with enthusiasm about your free time turning into a short murmur over the music, when Pesci looked back due to how quiet you had become, he found you asleep, ─in a position that would make your neck hurt later─ it was incredible how easily your energy was drained, his brother always says he finds you passed out in the living room late at night with the TV on while teleshopping commercials light up the room, or maybe you just rest badly, the mattresses in the house are shit.

"Wake up, I'm not going to carry your stuff, we already have enough to carry on our own."

Prosciutto patted your shoulder, placing his hand down for a moment to carelessly shake you awake, he wasn’t always the gentlest at waking you up, but at least he wasn’t worse than Melone or Formaggio… they had unique ways of making your consciousness flee the world of dreams as if you were going to have a heart attack. You rubbed your eyes a little dazedly, feeling a stab of pain in your cervical spine, you ignored as much as possible the discomfort at the back of your neck, grabbing your things and waving at Ghiaccio, who had come out just when he heard you arrive to check that his car was unscathed.

You let out a satisfied sigh when you entered, everything was quiet, you quickly went to the kitchen to leave the magnet of the picturesque town, feeling proud of giving a more personal touch to the house, immediately you went up to the bathroom, you wanted to take a shower and remove the sticky layer of cream, sand and saltiness that had stuck to your skin and hair.

"Finally I can-" you watched silently as Illuso, in your room, played around and talked with that stupid squeaky voice that people put on to talk to babies or animals, with your rat, he looked back at you silently "...Am I interrupting something?"

"Yes."

The shadows on his face dimmed, still with your little pet in his hands, the little animal recognized you, raising one of its paws as you had taught it as a greeting, you held back a cry of pride, more focused on noticing how Illuso also seemed excited about the progress you were making with the training, although the small smile he could have vanished as quickly as it came when he turned his gaze towards you again, as if this whole situation was your fault, you closed the door again, well, you could let them spend some time together in the comfort of your room, because you know that without a doubt your room is the most comfortable and much better than the others.

"I suppose I can bother Risotto for a while…"

With a new found energy, your feet bounced against the floor, with a smile from ear to ear, you knocked on the door so familiar to you. While you often came to ask questions or to get advice from your leader on something, many other times you were just bored, and deciphering emotions from outwardly stoic people is quite fun, besides, it never hurt to help a goth with basic office problems, there was an enemy out there much worse than the traitors that Risotto had to kill almost daily, the internet.

BONUS!

"And I can share those…? Gifs? By message, you say."

Risotto looked at his phone, the small pixelated images twisted tirelessly in the small space, you had offered to give him some advice on how to use emojis, gifs or stickers, was it something useful or necessary? No, definitely a waste of time, but how funny would it be to see the faces of others when they see how their leader ─who only sends messages as if they were work emails through the group chat─ starts using emojis without context? You need to record their reactions.

"Yes, yes, and you can send it as many times as you want, in fact, if someone doesn't answer you quickly, you need to send them a lot, they will answer faster."

"I see, thanks for the help, I'll try to remember everything."

The rest of the team is not very happy when they see that they have at least a hundred meaningless messages from his boss, Ghiaccio swears that he will throw his phone against the wall if he sees another gif of an exploding kitten.

[itadoraki]

Cotton-Colored Shrimpy

—————————————————————————

Floyd Leech x R.femele. ( Extremely kind and sweet )

—————————————————————————

.

.

The soft noise of the waves of the NRC lake echoed between Octavinelle's stone arches. It was late afternoon, and the orange sky was reflected in the waters like dyed glass. Azul had already closed the Monster Lounge, and Jade had disappeared with some weird plan to pick mushrooms. The dormitory was silent. Almost calm.

Floyd? He was lying on his stomach on the couch in the lobby, throwing a basketball up and taking it back... until he felt the presence.

"Hmm~ that sweet smell... Shrimpy~?"

You were there - long hair falling down your back, bright eyes and a smile so soft that it could heal a war. His presence was like a sun-filled candy: impossible to ignore.

- Hi, Floyd~! I brought melon juice! I made it for you, with a lot of ice, okay? - you offered the glass with enthusiasm, with flushed cheeks.

He smiled. Slow. Predatory. And he dropped the ball.

"Hee~? Are you trying to please me today, Shrimpy Cotton Color?"

"Tsc, now I'm going to have to squeeze you, right?"

You laughed, and he went to you in three wide steps, grabbing you by the waist with long arms and turning you in the air with ease. You screamed, laughing, hitting his back lightly.

- Floyd!! Put me on the floor, otherwise I'll... I'll... give you a forced kiss!

"Hi~? How scary you are, Shrimpy!" - he teased, eyes shining.

And then you really kissed him - a sweet and unexpected kiss, but so warm that it made Floyd literally stop moving for a few seconds.

"...Heh."

"You're so sweet today that I'm even going to get sick~"

But the truth? He had hot skin. Red ears. Look slightly lost. He didn't understand how someone could be so kind to him, so loving, without being afraid. He was unpredictable, intense, weird - and you... just smiled. You cried easily, praised everything about him, even when he was in a bad mood.

It was strange. And it was addictive.

————

That day, you walked around the campus. He held your hand tightly, his fingers intertwined, while you told about a student who praised your outfit.

"Who? Who was the funny guy?" - he asked, stopping walking.

"I'm kidding~... or not."

You laughed, stopping in front of him, and with that exaggerated affection that only you knew how to do, you touched his face with both hands.

- Floyd... I just look at you. I only have eyes for my Floydzão! Even when you have a sullen face and want to crush the world!

"...Shrimpy..."

"You're not afraid of me, are you?"

You denied with your head, firm, still with a smile on your lips.

- Never. I see your scary side, but also your affectionate side. You protect me, listen to me... And even when you pretend not to call, I know you care.

Floyd was silent for a few seconds. A rare silence. His look softened. The shoulders relaxed. And for the first time that day, he pulled you close, but not violently. It was careful.

"...Today I don't want to crush you."

"I just want to stay here... with you."

You laughed, moved, and hugged him tightly, head on his chest.

- So stay. Do you promise that you will always stay, even when I'm too silly?

"I promise, if you promise to keep calling me beautiful when I'm grumpy."

- Beautiful, cute, strong, smelly... - you answered quickly, like a machine gun of compliments.

Floyd laughed loudly, happy. It was the kind of laugh that only you could get from him.

————

Later, he took you to a secret place at the bottom of the Monster Lounge, where the light was blue, and the decorative corals seemed to float. He lay on the couch, with his head on your lap, watching you touch his hair with affection.

"You're strong like me, Shrimpy. But inside, it's like jelly... full of emotion."

- And you are like a deep sea: mysterious, dangerous... but full of beautiful life inside.

He closed his eyes. I was... at peace.

And for the first time, Floyd murmured softly:

"If you leave someday... I swear I'll get really mad."

You smiled, kissing his forehead sweetly.

- I'll never leave, Floyd. Even if you try to crush me.

"Heh~ so you'll have to put up with a sticky boyfriend forever, Cotton Color."

———— That night

The blue half-light of the secret aquarium in Octavinelle reflected on the curved walls, creating a slow dance of liquid shadows. It was almost dawn, and the world seemed to be suspended.

Floyd still had his head on his lap, but now, his eyes were fixed on his chest.

You wore a light shirt, open at the top, and your generous breasts seemed even more inviting to that magical light. The fabric barely disguised the high and firm curve that went up and down according to his calm breathing. They pressed against the fabric, heavy and sensitive, too hot for that cold place.

"...Heeeeeeh."

"Shrimpy... you're trying to provoke me, aren't you?"

Floyd's eyes, usually playful, were slow and dark now. He got up slowly, with his hands going directly to his waist. I need it. As if he was playing something that he believed belonged only to him.

You smiled, a little shy.

- Provoke you? Never... although you seem very interested in mine... - his voice decreased when he ran a slow finger through the curve of the neckline.

"They're so big... how do you walk with all this in your chest, huh, Shrimpy?"

"It's distracting me... I can't even think straight..."

He lowered his face until he almost touched his nose at you. The warm breath on the skin of your collarbone made you shudder. The breasts weighed so much that they seemed to pulsate, swollen with silent desire, almost painful with the slow attention he gave.

"They're so soft..." - he murmured, pressing one of them with one of his big hands, over the clothes.

"So... flashy. I think I'm going to bite."

- Floyd...!

But the sound of his voice failed when he slowly licked his skin just above the curve of a breast, his eyes fixed on his own like a predator.

You tried to laugh, but got goosebumps all over.

- You're a perverted eel...

"Heeh~? Did you just find out now?"

He pulled you to sit on his lap, with ease. The breasts were crushed against his chest, and Floyd let out a guttural sigh, his fingers running down his back.

"You know what's more fun, Shrimpy...?"

"It's just that you have such an indecent body, and yet you look at me with those innocent eyes..."

He lightly bit the exposed shoulder, and then pressed his lips on one of the soft mounds, right over the clothes, making a deep sound in the throat.

"I could spend hours just touching you here..."

"Squeezing, sucking, leaving your skin all marked just for no one else to dare to look..."

You gasped, holding his shoulders tightly. The heat rose from her womb to her breasts, which seemed to throb under the fabric.

Floyd was smiling, but it wasn't the joke smile. It was the smile of someone hungry for affection, for desire, and for total control over that body that he thought was too perfect to be real.

"You're going to let me play more, right?" - he asked with a deep voice, brushing his lips in the middle of his breasts.

"Will you let me prove you... everything?"

You nodded, red, shaking between his arms.

And Floyd, with pleasure and fascination, took you to the bottom of the secret room, where no one else would hear your low moans, or the wet sound of his hands loving every curve of yours - especially that part of your body

—————————————————————————