#it's not my fault my body is like a RAW VEGETABLE? NOT IN THIS BODY

[owlespresso]

Leander -> to MC: “Are you seeing someone else?”

The room smells of sex and leather. It gets under your skin, makes your whole body prickle something unpleasant. Underneath the sheets, it’s suffocating.

You’re surprised, almost, since Leander tends to run cold. Beside you, he breathes slow and mellow, balmy warmth brushing up against your skin. Dark lashes fan against his cheeks, his expression gone loose in sleep. Your gaze dips to his parted lips, then down to his chest, observing each breath he takes with tepid neutrality. 

He’s beautiful. It’s hard to say it when he’s awake and therefore more annoying. But he’s beautiful and—and you can’t really stand it.

Carefully, you prise yourself from the cocoon of sheets and clamber for your clothes. They’ve been discarded at various points across his room, ripped off in a rapid frenzy. You can’t believe anyone would be as desperate as he was to get to your skin, to you. It opens something inside of you, cracks you open in ways you still don’t feel comfortable with. 

Each garment you slide into is another piece of armor put back on. Your smallclothes first, then your trousers, then your blouse—your fingers fixing up the buttons. The routine gesture is grounding.

“Where are you going?” Leander calls out into the dark, voice still soft and deep with sleep. Ah. His first nap in years and you’ve interrupted it with all your rustling. 

“Out.”

Fingers curl around your wrist. One moment you are standing beside his bed, the next you are pinned underneath him, caged against the mattress. You’re pinned in the warm impression he was just occupying, for he runs cold but there is no getting around the fact that he is warm like any other living, breathing animal. Even a mage as talented as he cannot flee those mortal trappings.

He looks at you, searching, conflict written clear as day across that handsome face. 

“Leaving already? You don’t have to, you know,” he begins, looking down at you with a fretful furrowing of his brows. He kisses your forehead, then your nose, and then your cheeks. You squirm as his lips press all over your face, hand finding purchase on one of his broad shoulders. “Has all the quality time we spent together mean nothing to you?” He continues, voice extra pleading once he realizes he’s not getting his way. 

You look over at him with a scowl, mood dampened further at the outright pitiful expression he attempts to ply you with. You don’t owe him an explanation, but you know from experience that he can cross the room and cling onto you before you get to the door. 

“I just wanna get something to eat.”

“I’ll bring you something from downstairs,” he insists, nuzzling his cheek into the crook of your neck. Warm breath brushes across your clammy skin, chilled from your time out of bed. He warms you eagerly, runs his big hands along every part of you he can reach. “What do you want? Eggs and toast? Beef roast and steamed vegetables? Champagne? Name it and you’ll have it.” 

“I told Ais I would meet him at the pastry stall down the street,” you mumble, almost shyly, knowing he won’t like the answer. His touch stills. 

“...You’re seeing other men,” he says. The affection and raw need that’d dwelt in his voice gives way to something softer, quieter, but emptier. There’s some sort of resignation there. Something that makes a chill sweep down your spine.

“If by seeing you mean bringing him along to intimidate the stall owner into getting a better deal, then I guess so.” you mumble, rapidly blinking up at the ceiling. Leander’s lips dance up and down the column of your throat, a flurry of kisses pressed over pre-existing marks. Your skin twinges in the spots where he fixed his teeth, Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, fingers flexing over the cool, broad muscle.

“Oh, so you’re leading him on?” The levity returns to him. “I can’t believe you’d take advantage of such a sweet guy. I guess it’s my fault, though. I didn’t tire you out enough.” he mumbles, touch drifting to your midsection. Nimble fingers nudge underneath the hem of your blouse. His hands are cold.

[fantomette22]

2, 4, and 13 for Maria!!

3 for Gehrman!

1 for your smol KH boy, the mini Gehrman…BRAIN! I remembered!

Ask game from here

2. A canon or headcanon hill I will die on

Euh oh boy hmm I guess I have severals ones but I will say the fact that she really respected and had huge admiration for Gehrman. I really wanna know what happened in their goddamn life to have such a strong bond (whatever the interprets just platonically have a strong connection at least).

And I will add that I headcanon she could really do blood pyromancy for real if she really wanted to or loose control. And that's why she almost never did from her living, it terrifyed her.

4. Favorite line

Well she basically have 3 sentences of dialogue 💀 so if cut content don't count I guess so all of them? Maybe the first one.

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done

AH interesting! Well if the more dramatic dumb things don't count (like idk getting into fight with your family of running away!) she did a couple of very dumb things when she was younger for sure 😂 Hm I guess trying to cook something for the first times and failing. Oh Maria it's not gonna boil & get cook if you don't put it on the fire XD

Also I supposed tons of lil jokes to her family & cousins. Oh I could tell you the time she had enough of freaking raw meat and said she didn't want to eat some anymore. Oh boy... (that's your fault for the inspo) but they give her a whole ass salad 💀 with all the leaf maybe not wash. And all. And afterwards whole ass vegetables like carrot who weren't cut or peeled! She last 1-2 weeks before apologising XD

Oh and of course my fav dumb & dangerous Byrgenwerth shenanigans! (it's not just her but the entire students squad, who are like around 20y) : Hey, what if we decided to go in a restricted and forbidden area that was surprisingly open during prom night to discover dark secrets about the college! No one will know, or we'll play dumb to not get into trouble! I'm sure nothing will go wrong and we will not almost die because a werewolf show up! :)

A miracle some of them managed to live 15 more years 😑😭

3. Obscure headcanon  for Gehrman

Hmmmm... ok I got it thanks XD Well while hc about him being neurodivergent aren't unique, me projecting all my knowledge in geology into him is XD I imagined even with his very modest childhood he liked reading books, to discover and learn things about nature and the world around him.

Seeing a lil meteorite crash in the field and recovering it changed him as well! So yes besides being a strong fighter with good survival skills, having the ability to make weapons, know the materials' characteristics etc I like to imagine he did learn more on geology, geography, cartography, how to built mines and underground tunnels, and a bit of astronomy as well! Always useful on the field! He can easily recognize the 3 different irons ore as well! Everyone is confuse but it feel very easy to him to differentiate hematite from magnetite from siderite x)

1. Canon I outright reject for Brain. (we literally have another character/hero who literally have a red scarf lmao. This one is a goth with a fedora who really like data and informatics and screw up fate xD )

Euhhhhhh. Well it's still not sure if it's canon and you'll probably don't understand shit but anyway spoiler

I refuse to believe Luxu just stole Brain's body and yet his heart & soul idk where and basically kills him. I wanna believe maybe it wasn't Luxu but Brain after a time skip? Or maybe he did took Brain's body but still send his heart/souls in Scala? And so he got a new body/his body back?? Idk this game & series is making me crazy.

Like I am still so confuse. 3 YEARS AFTERWARDS huzdabdbkefz

[ferryrepair06]

Ten Ideas For Creating A Memorial After A Funeral Or Life Celebration

funeral programs funeral program funeral program funeral programs Treatments of Eczema for Sister #1. Sister #1 from birth grew as a result of a diet of raw foods. She ate fruit, vegetables, nuts and wholesome. Sister #1 experienced superior health. She never suffered with Eczema or Copd symptoms. As a matter of fact she never suffered any syndrome. None! She grew fast, and strong. She was high spirited, very affectionate towards others and totally free from disease. She experienced no excess fat and as grown-up produced happy, fit children. Her children too were healthy, high spirited and affectionate. She died at the time of 80 and an autopsy revealed just about every organ, every gland and every tissue in her body was in perfect condition. She bore no signs of aging or degeneration. She lived a healthy and fulfilled personal life. It appears as if these two powerful the male is destined to clash. When Lillian Stoner's husband, Reggie dies under mysterious circumstances, Rossi known as in to look into. Evans immediately attempts to block Tom's efforts to get the autopsy of Reggie's . The regarding the equipment used inside your home is the docket of this funeral residence. He answers to anything that goes wrong with the casket or gravestones. The old adage; everything the correct go wrong will break? That is why he has to ensure that the lowering machine is in good shape to prevent any eventualities. The first thing you will desire to do is send the birthday invitations formatted like an obituary. A cheesy as well as white white picture of a younger version of the decedent adds a touch of legitimacy to the document. Anyone or all of your cronies have a flair for creative offering this can be the very warm and funny tribute, as well as a keepsake for everything attendees. The period for take ACTION is now, not next week, not next month, not pick up. None of us knows how much time we are usually blessed with in this life-style. Nothing is guaranteed.

At the beginning of this newsletter I mentioned that grow by copying others. Yet now I'm saying that copying is killing the funeral home industry. So which the actual first is right? Actually, both statements are right at different times in addition as in different condition. Here's a rule of thumb i learned from my business mentors rice. If your industry is rapidly expanding, easy strategy will be always to copy the leaders and grow light and portable industry. For example, within the 1990?s Dell copied IBM's personal computer and grew into a considerable corporation. They eventually overtook IBM and have become the leader in the pc market. Once to be able to all the facts in front of you, it's simple see why the business really were unsuccessful. You might be surprised to discover that the failure of the business wasn't completely your fault, in reality.

You likewise have soothe knowing that the loved one's wishes are now carried out exactly like they liked. There is a sense of peace into the surviving parents when you will get incorporate actual items requested by the deceased.

[notifyattack71]

Ten Ideas For Creating A Memorial After Your Funeral Or Life Celebration

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Treatments of Eczema for Sister #1. Sister #1 from birth grew up on a diet of raw foods. She ate fruit, vegetables, nuts and whole fiber. Sister #1 experienced superior health. She never suffered with Eczema or Asthma attack. As a matter of fact she never suffered any infection. None! She grew fast, and strong. She was high spirited, very affectionate towards others and totally free from disease. She experienced no excess fat and as a grownup produced happy, fit children. Her children too were healthy, high spirited and affectionate. She died at the ages of 80 and an autopsy revealed each organ, every gland and every tissue in her body was in top condition. She bore no signs of aging or degeneration. She lived a healthy and fulfilled personal life. It entirely possible that these two powerful the male is destined to clash. When Lillian Stoner's husband, Reggie dies under mysterious circumstances, Rossi is actually in to look into. Evans immediately attempts to dam Tom's efforts to ask for autopsy of Reggie's body. The regarding the equipment used at your house is the docket in the funeral director. He answers to anything that goes wrong with the casket or gravestones. What are the old adage; everything step by step . go wrong will not work right? That is why he has to ensure that the lowering machine is who is fit to prevent any eventualities.

The first thing you are going to require to do is blast the birthday invitations formatted like an obituary. A cheesy as well as white white picture of a younger version of the decedent adds a touch of legitimacy to the document. One does or some of your cronies have a flair for creative offering this can be the very warm and funny tribute, also as a keepsake for all your attendees. The to be able to take ACTION is now, not next week, not next month, not the coming year. None of us knows how long we are usually blessed with in this reality. Nothing is guaranteed. At the beginning of this newsletter I mentioned that some companies grow by copying some. Yet now I'm saying that copying is killing the funeral home industry. So which one is right? Actually, both statements are right at different times in addition as in different condition. Here's a rule of thumb my partner and i learned from my business mentors rice. If your industry is rapidly expanding, the blinds open . strategy is to copy the leaders and grow when using the industry. For example, back into the 1990?s Dell copied IBM's personal computer and grew into an important corporation. They eventually overtook IBM and became the leader in laptop market. Once you need to all the main points in front of you, it's in order to see why the business really damaged. You might be surprised to discover that the failure of your business wasn't completely your fault, at some point.

You can also have knowledge knowing that the loved one's wishes are now carried out exactly like they really wanted. There is a sense of peace to the surviving parents when that you'll incorporate actual items requested by the deceased.

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

well, if you don't have a trench coat then i guess i'm saved from dying if mortification! i mean, a bathrobe could possibly do because they're awesome, especially if it's a long one, but it's a completely different vibe, it just wouldnt work. it does make me think you might be dracula though (i don't know why but in my brain bathrobe = modern vampire). if you are, how would you feel about turning someone? asking for a friend, totally not because not having to sleep sounds awesome

I KNOW RIGHT??? it's like, do people.. do people really just see a random person and think "they're hot, i'd have sex with them"? ahdjksfwksks that's so wild. and i only figured out i'm ace like a year ago so i'm still not over this piece of information and tbh i don't think i'll ever be, like how??

and while realising i'm pan was way easier that was also pretty weird, because i knew that i liked girls but my country is like super conservative so i had no idea lgbtqia+ even existed for a really long time, as in that it was possible to like someone of the same sex, so i was just like yes, these feelings i'm having for this girl are friendship feelings, nothing romantic about them, most definitely platonic.

a frying pan? you chased a kid with a frying pan? i might be falling in love. that's awesome and a completely deserved punishment for him, because if you steal my boucy ball i will kick your ass no questions asked (let's pretend i am actually capable of kicking even a toddler's ass for a sec). also frying pans make good weapons, 12/10, they're my number one pick for when i hear a strange sound in my house while i'm home alone and both of my cats are in the same room as me. but i just gotta ask. why did you have a frying pan at school? i mean, don't get me wrong, it sounds super cool but why

and since timezones are weird and i have no idea how they work, but there's only 1 hour left till the 24th for me so i think this is appropriate:

Merry Christmas!! I hope you spend some quality time with your family, get nice presents, that the food is good and that you have fun celebrating! ❤️❤️❤️

congratulations! one possible death cause down. a...lot more to go. but progress is progress. it’s um...a fluffy grey dressing gown with a hood that has a little mouse face on it...if that fits with dracula vibes. turning someone depends on whether or not they’re willing to bend down or if they have a chair available so i can reach their neck. a safe chair. i MIGHT turn someone into a vampire risking their entire existence BUT i value my own safety smh. i will not accept them laying down i think that’s crossing into a kink sdkfjhskdhjf.

oh dude yeah. i got that piece of info a few years back and I’m still not over it. I don’t think I ever will be. sounds fake. i still suspect trickery. it just. my brain cannot comprehend that. it’s odd. my brain is like oh dude i wasn’t created with that setting?? idk man seems a little dodgy.

ah yikes, that’s not a great situation to be in. definitely lucky to be living in nz in that regard, it got brought up in health class in my first year of high school I think so I was aware. i knew i was queer and that that was a thing but i was still insanely oblivious somehow. i kind of had crushes beforehand but mostly stuff that confused me because I couldn’t tell if I just really liked them as a friend or more than that. then i started uni and met this one girl and my entire day was made whenever she sat next to me or talked to me and i was in the clouds like a dumbass and i zoned out of classes because she was. right there. and she was just. being in her presence was just, the absolute best feeling ever. i mean she absolutely was pretty and i loved her style but i really liked her as a person too. lit up everything for me. at that point i was like oh dude i think this is what we call romantic feelings sdfkhsdfkjhsdkfjh. it did take like 6 months before that realisation hit me tho ngl i did say i was oblivious.

yes.......i did do that. chased him around the school. frying pans are excellent weapons! they were my go-to weapon for years after that. also what else am I gonna grab in that situation? a KNIFE? i’d be more likely to stab MYSELF rather than an intruder. well. I went to my teacher and I said hey, Mr. X, can I have a frying pan? and if I remember correctly he DID ask why and i DID tell him but clearly he no longer cared about anything because he agreed. and went to the staffroom. and brought me back a cool red one. and I was like okay, thank you! and then started the chase. It was in slightly afterschool hours I think (?) or at least there wasn’t many people at school at that point, it was pretty empty for whatever reason, so I don’t think anyone ever really saw and therefore I don’t think he got in trouble but wow. that was wild. 

I think you’re roughly 11 hours behind me if I do some rough maths but I’m answering this at midnight as we cross onto the 25th aka Christmas day (i NEVER remember what date Christmas day is but I’m gonna nail it into my head eventually) so, excellent timing imo.

But thank you!!! That’s very sweet!!! I’m excited to see half the family today (the other half on boxing day) and enjoy a good chrissie lunch in the usual manner. it really doesn’t change much year to year but it’s all about seeing the family, doesn’t have to be anything super special. And right back at you, of course, if you recognise Christmas, and depending on what can be done under current circumstances. I imagine it’ll be quite different this year but I hope there’s something good that will still be present in the current situation, wishing you all the best. ❤️❤️

[luimagines]

The only moment when Twilight would be kind of a mean bean, is when passing besides reader, leans down a Little bit to their ear and just growls, then leaves as fast as he appeared, leaving behind a very flustered reader.

Or, Or! Reader is browsing a shop, somewhat hidden by the stalls, and Twilight happens to be their shopping buddy for the day!

A shame He feels in the playful mood today.

So while reader is very busy assessing the freshness of a vegetable, Twilight stands behind them very close; you could feel those well toned muscles of his pressing against your back. The fact that he is one of the tallest Links pivoted at the front of your mind as he leaned down on you, his far much larger frame almost shadowing yours and rested his chin on the crook of your neck.

His hot breath graces your flesh as he sighs.

"What are you looking at, lamb?" He whispers. His lips brushed the feverish skin with each word that went out of his mouth.

The produce in your hand fell back on the pile as your grasp grew limp.

You sucked back a noise when Twilight didn't wait for an answer-- not that you were in the right state of mind to give one, anyways-- and gave the area a small kiss, his cool lips a good, refreshing contrast with how feverish you felt from his subtle touch. His hands came to rest at the curve of your waist on each side, shamelessly pulling you flush towards him. With that little remaining space completely gone now, you could almost feel how much warm his body irradiated with the closeness the two of you had. If you could feel the bumps of his chesiled front before then now you can almost count all the full set of muscles brimming with raw strength.

Your hands came to clamp over his own, trying to pry them off but he didn't budge an inch. The sudden awareness of being in a public space fell on you like a bucket of cold water. As quickly as your position allowed, you turned your head to your left, where Twilight's face was. But you soon will grow to regret that decision.

When the tip of his nose pressed against your cheek, you felt how the corner of his mouth raises in a snarl, barring his teeth and then just growls. The noise was but a background sound to you, your mind disconnected from reality as the vibration of his growling felt like the ever deafening roar of a thunder striking land, just as paralyzing. Your body prickled with electricity and your muscles twitch from the surprise as the rumble traversed and spread to your back and chest, leaving a tingly, pleasant sensation after each wave.

A small yelp manages to wrench free from your clenched lips. One of your hands darted from the top of Twilight's hand to you mouth, muffling as hard as you could any other noise that might escape you.

You blinked your eyes, trying to bat away the moisture that have gathered there before slowly turning to meet a pair of stormy, dark blue ones. Twilight's usually clear eyes resemble those of a famished beast eyeing a piece of delicious morsel; his dilated pupils took on every inch of face, brandishing with fire in his mind that expression of yours with your wide, glassy pretty eyes.

He acted on instinct. His mouth open and, ever so gently, took a nip of your cheek. The prick of his fangs just a touch shy from actually puncturing the flesh, it shouldn't have felt that good to you. Even with how animalistic Twi is looking right now, he still manages to refrain of actually causing you pain.

Twilight gave a small kiss on the bite then retracted back, letting go of your body. You took a big breath of fresh air, your lungs aching from all of your shallow breathing you were taking.

When he actually took a couple of steps back, you spin around to be face to face with him, one hand on your chest and the other cupping the tender cheek. As you two make eye contact, Twilight gives you a toothy smile before slowly, licking the tip of his canines.

He winks at you and chuckles at your stunned, flushed face.

"The old man want us back. Just wanted to tell you that" he simply states, even shrugging his shoulders like he just didn't almost defile you in broad light.

"I'd wait for you, but you look like you need a moment" his voice sounds a little bit deep while chuckling his words.

Twilight then smiled innocently, ruffles your hair then leaves like no ones business.

A trembly sigh leaves you. With that pelt of his, this encounter truly felt like him being a big, bad wolf that, if it wasn't because you were in a public place, he would have jumped you in a heart bit, devouring you until there was nothing left of you but your undying adoration for him.

You don't know what made him act like that, but you certainly wouldn't mind if he repeated that in a more secluded, private place.

-----------

oH GOD. I KNOW I AM ABOUT TO BE SNIPPED BY PINKY.

BUT. I KEPT IT SUGGESTIVE... I THINK.

IT IS ALL THE FAULT OF THAT ANON FOR SAYING TWILIGHT GROWLING IN READER'S EAR. IT LEFT ME WITH A HEAVY CASE OF BRAIN WORMS IXKEICIDIIC

But on a serious note, sorry if this infringe with your rules, Pinky 😟

THIS!!!!

HOW DARE YOU!!!

LIKE?!?!?

HOW AM I TO COPE!!!

MY FRAGILE WEAK HEART CAN'T TAKE IT!

YOU STAYED PERFECTLY WITHIN THE LINES, MY GOD.

[mythiccheroacademia]

—lunch box

A/N: just another cute idea i had because i’m obsessed with barbarian/dragon king!bakugo and fantasy shit in general. some context: you and bakugo are betrothed—although, sometimes you wish you weren’t bc he can be a real asshole. luckily for you, he’s willing to work on it bc he likes loves you just that much. a litte angst (it wouldn’t be a mtha story without it) but it ends in fluff <3

Warnings: cursing

Your friends looked at their food with heart eyes and dug into the neatly wrapped box with fever.

“Ahh! Thank you for making this, Y/N!” one of them exclaimed. The other could only nod in agreement, too into your cooking to speak.

You smiled and waved them off. “It was nothing. Consider it a thank you for letting me copy the homework last night,” you chuckled.

“Did you cook one for Prince Bakugo? I’d imagine he’d love it! If there’s anyone’s cooking he loves more than his own, it’s yours!”

At the mention of his name, your expression fell. You looked down at the case of food you had prepared for him as an apology.

Four days ago, you two were hanging around his residence. You managed to get him to dance around with you. Well, it more like you were dancing and he was doing his best not to combust in embarrassment. Katsuki warned you that you shouldn’t be too reckless otherwise you’d break something.

Of course, you paid him no mind, too enthralled with your fun to notice your proximity to a nearby statue—one of the Bakugo family’s treasures.

One thing led to another, and you knocked it over, shattering it before either of you could even react. Your rich skin lost its glow and your boyfriend cursed something nasty.

Least to say, his parents were not happy. But instead of being rightfully scolded, Bakugo had taken the blame for it.

They found him attempting to clean it up and assumed it was his fault. You wanted to correct them, but he threw you a nasty glare, sealing your mouth shut. He was now under punishment until they deemed fit and from then on, he hadn't spoken a friendly word to you.

A little sigh escaped your lips. Your two friends looked at each other before offering you encouraging smiles.

“Hey,” one spoke, placing a hand on your knee. You met her gaze. “You should go give it to him. He’d love it.”

There was a moment of silence before you decided to act. Taking the spur of confidence, you stood up and briskly made your way to the other classroom. Just before you entered, you heard his voice and felt your heart waver with anxiousness.

However, now wasn’t the time to let doubt consume you. Things wouldn’t get better until something was done.

You took a deep breath, calming your nerves, before opening the door and walking in. Your eyes scanned the room and found the young dragon prince amongst his group of friends.

Jaw set, you walked over to them, hands firmly around the packaged food.

Kirishima saw you first and gave you a friendly wave.

“Hey Princess L/N!”

“Hi boys! How’re ya doing?” you politely asked, putting on your best smile.

They gave you an upbeat answer that lifted your spirits.

Despite that, you hadn't heard a response from Bakugo. In fact, he hadn't even looked at you—but you wouldn’t be disheartened. You fueled herself with faux confidence and held out the dish to your betrothed.

“I-I made you something small yesterday, as an apology,” you stuttered.

Katsuki finally looked up, indifference in his stare. Ruby eyes flickered down to the box filled with rice, chicken, vegetables, and a small pastry on the side. His favorite kind. For a moment, he seemed like considered your offer, but you suffered the low blow of humiliation when he turned away to look through the window.

“Thanks, but I’ve already eaten. Should’ve given it to me earlier.”

Something in your stomach fell. Crushing rejection blossomed up your throat with each passing second. His words were cold, harsh, and unforgiving. It might’ve been stupid, overdramatic even, but it hurt.

Heartbroken wasn’t even the word.

Your nose burned, eyes blurring before you could stop it. Your chest tightened with embarrassment. Luckily, you mustered enough strength to hold in whatever was threatening to crumble you.

“Oh,” you dumbly responded.

“I’ll take it!” Kaminari excitedly said.

“No, I will! I’m still starving!” Kirishima chided.

You placed the box down, struggling to keep up your act.

“Split it between the both of you. I hope it’s good!” You internally winced over how high your voice had become. “I’m gonna to get going now. I’ll see you guys after school, yeah?”

And before anything else was said, you bolted straight out of the room. You hadn’t bothered to look at Katsuki. Knowing him, he probably hadn't noticed the strain in your voice.

As soon as you were out of sight, the tears flooded. You held your hands against your mouth, desperate to muffle your cries. You quickly took you into the nearest bathroom and you prayed no one had seen you lest there be questions. If you went to your friends, it’d cause a commotion. Your parents would eventually find out and you didn’t want any more problems.

So, you cried your eyes raw and eventually willed yourself to stop when it was time to return to class.

…

The week had gone by without another interaction. The weekend brought you some relief since you wouldn’t be forced to see Katsuki’s face for the time being. Or so you thought.

All you wanted to do was run some errands for your parents and then go back home and continue sulking. Yet the universe would not let you rest.

The moment you caught Bakugo’s eyes, you pivoted on your heel and booked it the other way. You assumed his anger with you would force him to keep his distance.

But you were thoroughly surprised to find he was following after you.

“Y/N,” he called.

Irritation and hurt filled your chest. You only walked faster, clutching the purse against her chest.

“Y/N, stop,” he demanded to which you promptly ignored.

This went on for a good thirty seconds until Bakugo decided he had enough. Without much noise, he ran up to you, grabbing you by the shoulder.

You weren’t having it.

You harshly shrugged off his hand. “Don’t touch me,” you snapped, keeping your eyes forward.

“I need to talk to you,” Katsuki grumbled.

“Well I don’t want to talk to you. So maybe some other time.”

Truthfully, the crowned prince found himself shocked at your coldness. Despite your innate boldness, he wasn’t used to such an icy tone. Especially directed at him.

His father warned him to never attack in these situations, but Bakugo let his temper get the best of him. His first reaction was to frown and deal back harsher words.

“What’s your fucking problem, dumbass? When I say stop, stop!”

A spike of anger flooded your veins. You whirled around on your heel and glared at him with frosty eyes. You felt compelled to drop your papers and slap him, but instead, you settled for a finger in his face.

“First of all, I’m not some dog you can just order around, you jerk! And just because we’re betrothed doesn’t mean I’m some girl you can treat like dirt whenever you feel like it! Until you apologize, leave me alone because my only problem right now is you. Bye.”

And just as quickly as you came, you turned to leave.

Now Bakugo was actually stunned. Forget, cold, this was a side of you he hadn't ever experienced. Admittedly, he hadn’t been spoken to like that from anyone besides his mother—and she only got away with it because she was not only the queen…but he was his mom.

Katsuki honestly didn’t know how to handle it. It was only then that he concentrated back on his father’s advice. Whenever his mother was upset with his dad, his father would fight back, but never with emotional anger. Always with humbleness and an understanding tongue.

It usually did the trick considering his mother could never stay upset with him for more than a night. It always struck the teen with hidden awe. Sometimes, Katsuki thought his dad was an angel.

Bakugo was no angel, but he hoped it’d have the same affect on you.

The blonde teen softened his face and walked up behind you. He stopped you, wrapping his arms around your waist to lie his forehead against the decorated braids the fell down your back.

“Damn it. I’m sorry okay?” he lowly said, face burning from such a public display of affection. “Just hear me out.”

You didn’t speak and he clenched his jaw.

“Please.”

You inwardly cursed your rapidly beating heart. If it weren’t for how stupidly nice being in his arms was (he was definitely working out more), and the fact that you found him kinda cute begging for your permission, maybe you wouldn’t have caved in so easily.

For now, you’d blame it on the fact that you two were destined to wed. It was better to start dealing with fights now so, hopefully, the future held less of them.

You heaved a sigh, unwillingly ignoring your body’s urge to curl in his arms. Instead, you pulled away and turned to face him. You peered into unsure crimson eyes with as much harshness you could conjure.

“Fine. Speak,” you permitted.

There was a small pause as he gathered his thoughts. When he opened his mouth, you instantly regretted it.

“I’m still mad at you for being dumb and breaking one of family’s treasures. And I’m still fucking pissed that my old hag is on my ass about it,” he started and noticed how your eyes narrowed in contempt.

You were about to turn away, thinking this was a waste of time. However, Bakugo took a hold of your wrist before you could leave.

“Leave me alone! If you didn’t want to get in trouble, you should’ve just let me take the blame. I can't believe I thought you’d apologize—“

“Let me finish, princess.”

It was your title, yet you felt your stomach flip when it came from his lips. You refused to let it influence you…but you’d give him another chance.

Bakugo stepped closer to you. “I’m upset, but I took the punishment because I wanted to. You didn’t mean to break it. Accidents happen, I understand that.”

There was a pregnant pause. Then, you softened your gaze a bit, eyes still lit with inquiry. “Why? Why would you do that if it meant getting in trouble? I could’ve taken the blame just fine.”

“Y/N, you freak the fuck out whenever you don’t get a perfect score on an exam. You try not to mess up and when you do, it’s like the world is ending,” he explained with a teasing smirk. You ungracefully snorted. He had a point. “When you broke the vase, I could hear your heart drop. You were two seconds away from crying. And when I saw how scared you looked I just—I don’t know.”

The look on your face was something between shock, surprise, and wonder. You blinked, thick lips parting slightly in awe.

“Katsuki…” you breathed to which the boy heavily blushed. Realizing how sappy he sounded, his mind screamed at him to cut it out.

Bakugo looked down and noticed he was still holding your wrist. He quickly let go and instinctively rubbed the nape of his neck.

“D-don’t be dramatic. I just didn’t wanna see you moping around or some shit. My father said that it wasn’t that important anyway…the vase I mean,” he mumbled.

Sure it wasn’t, you thought. What were you gonna do with this boy?

You supposed an apology was a good start.

“That was very nice and admirable of you Katsuki. Thank you,” you eventually said. “I’m still really sorry about the vase, and for being mean to you just now.”

He shook his head. “I know, but I’m the one that should be apologizing. I ain’t hafta treat you the way I did. I was being an ass for not accepting the food you made for me earlier.”

“Yeah you were, ya bastard.”

He chuckled at that. “The two idiots wouldn’t stop raving over how good it was.”

“Well, I had the best teacher in the kingdom,” you grinned.

“And I had an even better student,” he winked.

Your smile widened. Maybe marrying him wouldn’t be so bad.

You couldn’t help yourself when you heartily embraced him, enjoying how his arms slowly slithered around the small of your back. Your eyes met and you kissed him on the lips, leaving him with a little gasp. You pulled away and giggled under your breath.

“You know, you're a sweet guy underneath all that false bravado.”

“False brav—what the hell are you going on about!?”

Ignoring his explosive behavior, you readjusted the straps on your shoulder before turning on your heel.

“Don’t bring anything for lunch on Monday, okay? I’ll see you later, blondie.”

Despite his little tantrum, Bakugo still watched you disappear into the store with a gentle expression. You gave him more headaches than he cared for, but you were worth it. Besides, he was sure you could say the same for him.

Bakugo turned to leave and passed his fingertips over where your lips touched his own.

He’d never admit to the giddiness in his chest. He’d take that shit to the grave.

[yandere-society]

The Rabbit Hole

Summary: The Windy City in the mid-1920s is a spectacle of lights and sounds, roaring with the excitement of jazz music and swinging dance moves. Amid the brilliant stars of Chicago nightlife, there is a dark underground of secrets, mainly that being the mysterious Wonderland Ball you've been invited to participate in and be crowned the next "Alice". What you don't know is you may or may not be allowed to leave, per the Mad Hatter and a White Rabbit's desires. So, daring and brave as you are, you decide to take a journey down The Rabbit Hole and come face to face with high society - people - as you've never seen them before.

Genre: Yandere; Historical Fiction/ Fantasy Based In The 1920′s; Smut; Thriller; Alice in Wonderland Inspired 

Warnings: Yandere themes, Mentions of drug/ alcohol use with/without consent, mentions of “gangsters”, light talks of selling your soul/ the devil/ religious “themes”?, sedative drugs used non-consensually, vivid dreams/nightmares, maybe light profanity? Smut: Non-protected sex (twice), creampies, oral sex (f and m receiving/giving), slight nipple play?, spanking, marking, bruising, slightly rough sex, use of a sex swing/ sex swing intercourse, f and m orgasms. I think that’s it. 

Pairings: Jeon Jungkook (White Rabbit) x Reader (Alice) x Kim Seokjin (Mad Hatter), Side Pairing of Johnny (Jonathan) Suh from NCT x Reader, Johnny x Jung Jaehyun from NCT.

Author’s Notes: This is not going to be a historically accurate piece. As much as I am an advocate for research and learning about the times of old, I am only human and I am short on time researching in between my full time job. I have grown up and currently live in Chicago and I have never written a story about the Windy City before so here I am, writing to you about the wonderful city I call home. I am doing my best to stay true to my writing as well as make it as accurate as one can, but please forgive me if there are faults in this story! 

We are not doing a collective Valentine’s Day event this year but the contents of this piece have been weighing heavily on my mind, so I asked if I could write this story for a little something-something. I hope you all enjoy it!

Written By: Admin 💖 @therealmintedmango​ 

Also, who do you think the other boys from BTS are from Alice in Wonderland in this story? I’d love to know! 

Stepping out of my very own vehicle my future husband’s family sent for me, I take in the sights and the sounds that Chicago provides this snowy afternoon. 

People waltz around one another and mingle about, snow crunching under their feet. The faint sounds of jingle bells float down the streets in the chilly air, it smells of popcorn and roasted nuts as well as the sludge of gasoline tainting the snow. A cold breeze gliding across the buildings nearly knocks me off my feet as I look up to my new place of residence, a new high-rise Michigan Ave. The stars above my head seem to sparkle in the dark sky, or are those just the electric lights from the grand buildings surrounding me? 

Curious, I think as I continue to have my sights set above the horizon. I’ve certainly strayed very far from the corn fields of back home. Inhaling the sharp, bitterly cold air around me, I feel a sense of dread almost wash over my senses. I knew what I was signing up for when I came here. Jonathan and I discussed it in great detail over the wire. 

The reality of the situation is finally sinking into my layers of clothing. 

Jonathan Suh, the grandson of Suh Realtor Industries Incorporated - which owns about one third of Chicago - has asked me to marry him. It was seemingly out of the blue too. I was going to spend the next years of my life trying to marry into the best livestock or vegetable farmer in town, not the filthy rich grandson in a large city. It felt like a dream when he called me and begged me to come as soon as possible. I suppose it pays off to be kind to everyone, especially when it felt like it was yesterday we were both in grammar school together. 

I drink it all in, the busy sounds, the cold night air that leaves me feeling bitter and raw standing in the street while snow begins to descend from the blackened sky. It feels foreign to me even though it’s only about two hours away from the farm. The breeze blistering in from the west sends a chill up my spine. 

This is a new beginning, I ponder to myself as I stretch upwards in the middle of the sidewalk. This is my chance at a better life, this is way better than being some poor, sad farm girl. That’s right! I’m going to be the wife of my childhood friend who just happened to be some rich playboy who has more money than he knows what to do with.

I’m going to be a Suh!

...Even if the whole arrangement is a sham...

“Miss, you are going to freeze to death outside!” Jonathan’s maids rush to usher me out of the cold quickly, but not before I accidentally bump into someone on the busy sidewalk. 

“I beg you to pardon me,” I mumble as I set my sights over my shoulder on a man dressed in a long coat with hair as white as the snow currently blanketing the ground. “You’ll have to forgive me, I am just enraptured with how bright Chicago seems to shine at night.” 

The man’s seemingly red eyes expand with my excitement, then soften. “No pardon to beg, Miss…?” He queries, a bloom of warmth spreading across his face.  

“Suh.” I smile as the men shout from my car they have finished unpacking. “Well, I am the future Mrs. Jonathan Suh. For now I suppose I am still Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Strange, I didn’t think he… Well, never mind that now.” His eyes linger on mine. “Johnny’s got good taste.” I hear him mumble under his breath in a deep tone, slurring his words together in a string. “Well, I can’t wait to see more of you, future Mrs. Jonathan Suh.” He says as he swings his coat behind himself and takes off down the street, the crowd and the night dissolving him like a pill in warm water. 

Curious and curiouser this night becomes, I think as the maids finally have enough of me standing about in the cold. 

“Do you know who that was?” I ask the hoard of them, hoping someone has the answer to my bump in the night with a rather odd fellow. My heart is beating but I’m not sure what for. I know my place. I know why he called me… My fate was sealed as soon as I got the wire from my future husband.

The collective flock shake their heads and mutter polite “noes” as they lead me up grand staircases of marble and through dim corridors at this time of night, leaving my brain a drifting piece of snow in the blizzard that will surely accumulate outside overnight. 

“Right this way.” A young redhead coos as she parades me up what must be my twentieth flight of stairs I’ve climbed this evening. “Master Suh will be so happy you are here at last!” They lead me into a beautiful room with the most lavish furniture I’ve ever seen in my life! Magazines and pictures certainly don’t bestow such fine items with quite the same honor as seeing such beauty in person. 

“Madam Suh has a full schedule for you this weekend.” One of the elderly looking women dares to swoon as she says, “Wedding planning, I’m sure, no doubt.” My coat is taken from me and I am given house slippers to wear. 

The flock - or really I should call them a herd of lemmings - all agree once more as a butler leads us through a hallway with objects of fine art, pottery, and paintings. Each item is so uniquely wonderful that it would make my brothers’ and sisters’ heads spin if they saw how perfect and polished everything is. How ornate and lavish! Am I to spend my life with fine, intricate pieces of art from all mediums? I wonder if Jonathan has created any of these himself? Would he allow me to paint? I wonder...

“Master Suh,” I inhale, realizing I am right at the threshold of a beautiful oak door. “Miss Y/N Y/L/N has arrived.” The butler announces. 

My body feels all fuzzy and nervous for some reason. It’s been many years since I’ve seen my dear friend from when we were still learning how to hop on a bicycle in the country where his family had a small house and property that butted up against my family’s by the little lake in the middle of a corn field. 

“Y/N!” A deep, refreshing voice purrs before he embraces me in a tight hug. “How was your ride? Did the car fair well, unlike the weather?” He chuckles as his tall frame dwarfs mine in comparison. The scent of him is most definitely cinnamon, scotch, and leather, which I’m not surprised. All fine things to smell of for certain. 

The maids all giggle and mumble their approval and the butlers look away, anxious to gaze upon a woman in another man’s arms. I suppose his gesture of a greeting is very rude, but I don’t mind. Being smack-dab in the middle of my siblings, I feel like nothing phases me anymore, even the hug Jonathan wraps around me. 

“Jonathan Suh,” I simper, pulling out of his embrace, “The ride was not too terrible, and my, how tall you’ve grown! And so dapper too.” I sigh earnestly. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“I hope you say that every day you wake up and I am there beside you.” Jonathan’s brown eyes seem to daze in the glow from the lamp lights in the sitting parlor. 

There’s nothing more I hate than an arrogant flirt, not to mention an arrogant flirt with money is all the more trouble. Is this really going to be the rest of my life? Living with Jonathan like this? So contrived and fake… it makes my insides twist. 

“I am rather weary though from a day full of travels.” I pretend to yawn, shifting out of his arms bit by bit and heading toward the door. “May I have the delight in seeing you tomorrow?” 

“Oh yes, you must be quite tired. I always get sleepy on car rides.’ Jonathan muses as he extends his hand to the door and the staff scramble into place. “Mr. and Mrs. Alan would you please escort Y/N to her room? I will be here but on the other end of the house until we are...you know-” 

“Goodnight, Jonathan.” I say almost too quickly after that, leaving almost as swiftly as I’ve come. 

Once my hair is down and I am dressed comfortably in my nightgown, I feel like I can take a deep breath again. It feels odd with my hair unpinned, sitting in a brand-new nightgown, overlooking the rocking waves of the lake and the snow that drifts down from the sky. Basking in the sill of my window from the beautiful lights and moonlight shining through my velvet curtains, I hope and pray that every night I spend in Chicago is not as forced and fake as this one has been.

-

I’m chasing something odd in my dream. 

I move between pictures hanging on the walls, through the bellies of grandfather clocks, I emerge through the darkness every time, chasing a little white rabbit with a cottontail through or around objects of grand design. I have never had a dream that felt so vivid and real, like I am actually flying through my thoughts, time of the utmost essence for some unknown reason. I can’t seem to escape a dark feeling looming around me and I feel slightly frightened that I will not catch the little thing. 

When I reach for the little dumpling covered in pretty white fur, it lurches forward, propelling my desire to catch up to the little beast. 

I descend deeper and deeper, the spotlight in the darkness focused solely on the bunny ahead of me. I can’t reach him, I’m not fast enough, my feet do not carry me quick enough. I call to the animal but it doesn’t hear me, instead it flies between two large velvet curtains. 

“Please!” I beg the animal as I pop through the hole in the curtains, shuffling through on my knees. “Where are you taking…me…” My question dies in my throat as I look up to find red eyes, his curly blonde hair waving at me from under a gold top hat, a gold mask from that of a masquerade celebration covering most of his face. 

But, I know that soft smirk well now. I’ve replayed it several times already in my mind like the fool I am. 

This is the man I met on the sidewalk. I gasp. But, why is he inhabiting my dream?

“Welcome to Wonderland, Alice.” A soft voice wafts from high above the two of us, making me shiver. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Why am I frightened? Surely this is not a nightmare. I was only following a rabbit and now I am here with these two men. 

Slowly, my eyes trail up the large mahogany platform, showcasing a very large, ornately plush gold and maroon seat which houses a man in an all green suit of the finest quality. He is also wearing a mask trimmed with greens and golds, his lush lips pinkened like he had just indulged in delicious raspberry jam pulled into a dark smirk. He sits with the side of his pale face in one of his hands, resting comfortably on the arm of the pretty chair. The man from the street sits on a swing that hangs high from the rafters, silently taking me in. An aura of power and class drips tastefully from every fiber of his being, weighing heavily upon me like he is a hammer and I am but a humble nail. 

“Good job chasing rabbits.” The man’s smile further stretches, his amber eyes boring down upon me, making my skin want to jump from my skeleton. “The next step is to find The Rabbit Hole.”

My eyes fling open, a train's loud horn blaring in the distance, the golden morning haze filtering from the curtains across the room. I jolt upward in bed, cold sweat beading my body, tainting the beautiful nightgown the Suhs have given me. I throw the sheets off my bed and clutch my forehead, musing the words of the man in all green over and over to myself in a frenzy. 

...What a dreadfully vivid dream...

-

I’ve been here for almost a week and I’ve lost count of the tea parties and luncheons I’ve attended with Mrs. Suh. The people and the houses and families they all belong to are getting lost to me in the wake of planning for a wedding. Though, I’m not sure how much I am actually planning. Merely pointing between two colors of table placemats and napkins or choosing between a flower or two. 

Tonight though, it is another snowy evening on the lakeshore, we are attending a jazz concert at the Sunset Cafe to see a wonderful show performed by the talented Cab Calloway and Louis Armstrong who make the most wonderful music. I was practically buzzing when I heard the news that the Suhs would be taking me this evening. As always, Jonathan and his mother have only two options for me to wear this evening and I must make a choice between them. A silver, more A-lined gown that shows off more skin than one should in the winter with a mink-fur cowl or more fluttering, off the shoulder velvet cobalt-blue style of a ball gown with embroidered golden stars falling from the bust in waves of tulle. 

Call me old fashioned, but I choose the one that makes me feel like a princess, not the one that makes me fit in. My thoughts wander between which Suh picked out which dress for me to wear and the dream of me chasing a white rabbit. 

I can never seem to catch that rabbit nor have I seen the two men since my first dream. It relieved me, but it also scared me. 

A shimmering laugh that is made of moonbeams and stars pulls me from my spell of thought that engrossed me.

The Suhs are dotting and cheerful people, always looking out for their only son in this cruel world. They are wonderful and powerful in their own ways, working the men and ladies in the sitting room of the theater with just a glance or smile of their lips. Mr. Suh smokes a cigar and smacks Jonathan on the back as they stand in the corner away from the ladies. Mrs. Suh includes me in all her conversations, never wanting me to feel lost or dissuaded from a million questions by another matriarch of a well-to-do family. 

I can see why Jonathan doesn’t want to disappoint them or the good people of his clan’s name before or after himself.  

The room is hazy from the smoky cigars that the men all drag on in between their elaborate conversations about President Coolidge and his beliefs while the women discuss lighter subjects such as traveling to Paris and Morocco as well as tennis. I find my thoughts up in the cloud of smoke that hangs in the room. 

“Pardon me, ladies,” Jonathan places a hand gently upon my shoulder, “may I steal Y/N away for a few moments?” 

“The concert will begin shortly, Johnny.” Mrs. Suh smiles, casting her charms to her son who smiles with reassurance to his dear mother. 

“Don’t fret, mother,” Jonathan grins as she calls him his nickname, “I want to show her off to my college chums.”

Her eyes twinkle in delightful mischief as she swirls her glass of sweet liquor in her hand. “Just be sure to return her in one piece. Y/N has a long day ahead of her tomorrow.” 

More wedding planning I’m not privy to I suppose? Such is my life now. High society is fun and all but the pressure is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before… No, my brain is captivated once more by the dark aura of the man from my dream, looming and lingering above me, teeth glimmering in the lim electric light of the room from my lucid dream. That was true, pure evil pressure I wish to never partake in the feeling of ever again. 

Jonathan says nothing as he turns from her, ushering me away with his hand placed gently on my shoulder. We move silently and quickly through groups who mingle and giggle, alcohol strong in their glasses and upon their breath as we pass through the crowd of rich socialites. 

We stop at one group of gentlemen, but I am only introduced to one handsome man named Jung Jaehyun who fondly shakes Jonathan’s hand and winks at me. What an odd fellow, I tell myself as we dive deeper and deeper into the crowd of people loitering in the fancy sitting room. 

“I’m glad you wore the one I picked out.” Jonathan says so low that I may only be able to hear his words. Well, that answers that question then. ��These men might eat you alive, so stay as sharp as a blade but soft as a lamb, understand me? They will not leave me be until I introduce you to them.” 

“Are they your friends?” I query with a whisper as he pulls me to the edge of the room where young men have beautiful young ladies draped on their elbows. 

I have never seen a lady look like they do, but I suppose it is fashionable and “kept up with the times”. I am not so appealing as these ladies are with their skin on display and their heels high, they attract my attention before the men who hold them up do. Their makeup is dark, yet shimmering in the soft glow from the electric lights from above. The fair ladies’ hair is cut so short, their sideways hats and feather headbands merely slip off their sleek and shiny hairstyles. I am in awe of the way they look and envy them for behaving and chatting so freely. 

“Do not be scared, but they are budding gangsters who run speakeasies.” My eyes widen with his words, but I do what I am told. “Please do me another favor, Y/N, and become the most desirable woman here.” Jonathan whispers to me before we approach the hoard of people in front of me. “I will set you free from this cage as soon as I can.”

I can only nod as my demeanor switches like that of a light switch. 

Walking up to these men and women I’ve never met, I invoke the acting spirit of Jane West for Jonathan. I demand my attention. I am the most beautiful creature in this sitting room, if not all of the world. I did not go to college but I am going to show you how well read and cultured I am. I am going to be a Suh and I command you all to bow down to me in this instant. 

“Suh!” A tall man with coiffed, sandy blonde locks beams as he steps away from his fair darling on his arm tonight. “You dog! I didn’t think you’d grace us with your presence this evening!” They shake hands and laugh at nothing vigorously as I look between the two before the blonde catches my eye. They are pretty amber eyes that remain half-lidded and surely dazzle in the glow from chandeliers above. He’s not as tall as Jonathan, but he is handsome. “This must be-” 

“Y/N Y/L/N.” 

A voice from behind the blonde says clearly, setting to be free from the shadow of Jonathan’s friend. 

It’s the white rabbit! I think as I try to hold myself together. He looks rather dapper in a white and gold waistcoat with tails, a top hat making him appear to be as formal as one can be. This is the gentleman I bumped into the streets, but I cannot press out of my head. I want to tell him to stay out of my dreams, but I fear he will think me mad if I declare such a bold thing without expressing my thoughts further.  

“You know of my future bride, Jeon?” I feel the grip upon my shoulder tighten and breath being held from above me. Don’t fret, Jonathan, I would never tell anyone. I promise. Your secret is safe with me. 

The friend with his hair as white as the fallen snow looks at me passively, eyes rimmed red like he can’t sleep a wink either. “I met her on the sidewalk, John, but we’ve never been properly introduced.” He bows and takes my blue-colored gloved hand in his white ones. He kisses the top of my hand and in this ball gown-like dress I am indeed fulfilling my fantasy of pretending to be a beautiful princess. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, future Mrs. Jonathan Suh.” 

“Y/N,” Jonathan says, exhaling the concerned breath he’s been holding in, his grip returning to normal as well. “These are my friends from college: Mr. Kim Namjoon, whose family owns one third of the city like mine does, and Mr. Jeon Jungkook, who makes up the triangle of the most powerful families of Chicago.” 

“At your service.” Jungkook says with a cheeky grin stretching across his face, kissing the top of my hand once more. 

The way he looks up at me makes butterflies trapped in my body flutter and flounce about. But I cannot swoon or succumb to a young man so openly. Jonathan is counting on me. 

“I’m delighted to meet Jonathan’s friends from his schooling.” I say in the same charming manner Mrs. Suh has produced all week. 

“Forgive me for this is a bold question, future Mrs. Suh, but, will you be getting a gown made?” Namjoon asks me as he sips his scotch on the rocks.

“I think tomorrow I am going for a fitting, yes.” I nod my head, smiling just the right amount. 

“Then it should be crafted by the finest in the Windy City, Kim’s Couture on the corner of Washington and LaSalle Street. Have you heard of the establishment before?” Namjoon queries.

“Indeed! I have!” I exclaim happily, my eyes wide as his stay half-lidded as though he is sleepy, though he smiles earnestly. 

“Then I must insist you have a treasured wedding gown made by my seamstresses.” He hands me a white business card with only his name upon it. I stare at it until he taps it twice. “They will take excellent care of you, I promise.” 

“Oh-ho!” A soft, almost melliferous voice rings out behind me. No... “This must be the infamous bride-to-be!” I know this voice! Fear rattles through me, making me tremble as I look over the shoulder Jonathan is not draped over to look at the mysterious voice. Time is slow as molasses as I face the man from my dream, clad all in a green waistcoat, vest, and top hat, wolfishly grinning at me. 

“Ah, this is my eldest brother,” Namjoon muses as the electric lights flash, indicating the performance will begin soon, “Seokjin Kim.” 

Kim Seokjin...

I feel like I know everything about this man yet nothing at all. He is the type of man who is a brilliant summer on the outside and stormy winter on the inside. The smile on his lips - that is the color of the inside of a cherry tart - is warm, yet cold all in the same breath. He appears to be a powerful man of high class, wrapped in an enigma of grace and power. But there is a scent of something malicious in the air as he closes the gap between us and gets down on his knee to kiss upon my hand. 

I’m not sure what made me do it, but something comes over me, the flight or fight instinct animals possess lurches out of me in this moment.  

“Why is a raven like a writing desk?” I ask, pulling my arm away from him.

Seokjin’s bright amber eyes slowly travel up my ball gown, disbelief and confusion colors his good looking features. 

Mouths open in shock and my heart drops, but I feign a lie, turning out of Jonathan grasp, and quickly say, “Forgive me, for I feel faint.” I run to the bathroom in the hall as everyone piles into the main room of the Sunset Cafe, heart pounding in my chest and cheeks on fire. 

I’m so sorry Jonathan, I did not mean to make a fool out of you. There is just something about the way Seokjin’s gaze is so feral that chills me to the bone. 

A hand rests upon Jungkook’s shoulder while he continues to longingly gaze at the door as if he was willing me to come back with his mind. “Don’t worry, Jeon.” Seokjin purrs in his ear, amber gleam set upon the door. “She is the one who chases you every night, not the other way around.” 

“I know, hyung.” Jungkook whispers as the brass begins to trumpet through the building. “When do we make our move?” 

“Soon.” Seokjin chuckles darkly, guiding the younger of the boys to follow behind him. “Very soon we will have our glorious tea party.” 

-

The subject of marriage has always been an odd one to me, I think to myself as maids and fashion consultants from the Kim’s dress boutique flutter and coo around me.  

My parents married but it was never for love. I knew that, my siblings and myself knew that, yet they both loved us all the same. My mother and father married as more of a “good match on paper” sort of situation, than they were truly, madly in love. Still, they never fought, my father never hit my mother, never drank himself silly, never talked to another woman. My mother upheld the same standard and raised us all with love in her hardworking heart. I knew she was aware that I haven’t spoken to Jonathan since we were young children and that I would soon be in the same boat if I accepted his offer. 

“A lifetime of money doesn’t equal happiness.” She told me. “You should marry for love, not for any green or gold.” 

I agree. I know this full well. I’m not one to be stingy or greedy by any means. I don’t want to be an actress in a picture show or model for a beautiful Channel garment. And though I do want love in my life, I want a secure future. I am the middle child of middle-class farmers. The best match I could have made besides this one was with a cattle farmer or a man who works in the stockyards on the south side of Chicago. 

It’s selfish for me to do this not only for myself but to my mother as well. 

But, I am here and like my family, I will be fiercely loyal to the man I will call my husband. If not, call me a bold-faced liar and take me and my words to the grave. 

Jonathan Suh is not a bad man for who he prefers in the sheets. I know that and have never felt such a way to treat someone less of me if they do prefer the company of one sex over another. I will not break the promise I’ve made to him, but I cannot help but feel like a songbird trapped in a tight, metal cage for the decision I’ve made to help him. 

-

Due to the poor weather Chicago has currently come down with, the wedding has been postponed until further notice. 

When I wired my family to tell them the news, my mother answered. I was a bit more than surprised that she almost sounded relieved when I told her the news. I promised I would wire soon and my younger sisters begged me to take them to the city to go shopping at Marshall Fields. My father sounded passive at first when the telephone wire was transferred to him by my youngest brother after he told me the family cat, Cheshire, had gone missing. 

Truth be told, I am also more than happy to exhale a breath and not worry about someone questioning me about my upbringing. Or having Mrs. Suh and the don of high-class ladies and waist-coated men galloping around every breath I take. 

I can finally relax, I think as I pull out a book in the study as Jonathan reads the Chicago Tribune on the couch across the way from me. We get along well, I realize. Silence suits us both. No tricks, not faking our way through hordes of important people. We have to conserve and save our energy for when we face the people mercilessly wanting to know everything and anything about us, good ole’ Jonathan and I... 

No, not Jonathan anymore… I am to be his wife, and he...my…

I peer at him from over my book on flowers, losing interest in the pages. 

Can I really pretend we are to be an item forever? Will one of us crack or slip up? It seems like we are stuck in a circle now, both of us floating in a pool of choices we will surely drown in.

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

Someone knocks at the door, plucking me from my fever of thoughts. I fully peer over the pages in my hands, pretending like I was in fact engrossed in the origin story of an author I enjoyed as a girl. 

“Enter.” Jonathan says without skipping a beat, not looking up from his black and white ink. His eyes scan the pages, following the drumming beat of the grandfather clock next to the roaring fireplace. But, now that I study him closer, I’m unsure if he was actually reading or just musing to himself like I was moments ago.  

“The post, sir.” Butler James reports as he opens the door, my handmaiden Emily gliding up to us with a silver plate in her hands. 

“Thank you, Emily.” Jonathan gives her a half-smile as he takes the single envelope off the tray, slicing it open with trepidation.  

I look at the blood-red colored wax seal as he flips the paper, revealing a knight chess piece glaring upside down at me. 

Jonathan scans the letter passively at first, his orbs lazily scanning the pages, then suddenly his eyes ignite with rage behind them. “No.” He says softly, red flushing to his handsome face. He rips the paper up into shreds then, aggression and hatred oozing from every pore for some unknown reason. He gets up as he throws the scraps in the fire with vigor as butler James, Emily, and I all stare at him like he’s grown a second head. “Don’t you dare go.” He warns me, irises blaring with unmeasurable loathing. “Those people are dangerous.” Jonathan practically snarls as he exits the room in a fit of rage, stomping down the hall as we look on stunned and slack-jawed at what had just happened. 

From what I can tell, Jonathan isn’t one to get upset easily or lash out so that letter must have set him off. But what could it have been?

It really has sparked my curiosity, that’s for certain. 

Where wasn’t I supposed to go and who was so dangerous?

-

I got the answer the next day as I read a book about traveling the jungles of South America. 

“Miss!” My handmaiden whispers like a hiss as she enters the study. “Miss!” 

“Yes, Emily?” I smile, putting my book down as she flutters to my side in a nervous frenzy. “What is the matter?” 

“I snagged this from the post, miss.” She hands you the letter you saw the previous day with Jonathan, the one that he got enraged over.  “Please open it quickly, miss, before the butler spots it! They want us to destroy anything with this seal on it!”

I do as I am told, opening up the letter addressed to both Jonathan and myself with the odd wax seal to find an invitation inside.

You Are Cordially Invited To Participate In:

THE WONDERLAND BALL 

A Masquerade Party To Determine The Next “Alice”

For Directions Follow Us Down The Rabbit Hole 

Knock Thrice For The Door Mouse To Let You Inside

Cheers, 

                                      The ‘Mad Hatter’ & Company

“How curious...” I muse as my eyes trail over the letter over and over, wondering what has Jonathan all in a panicked rage. “Well, I don’t even know where “The Rabbit Hole” is so I shan’t be going.” 

“Tis’ a speakeasy, Miss.” Emily says her eyes wide as she reads the paper with you. “They say it’s the most fun one in all of downtown!” She giggles. “Shall I fetch you a gown for the ball?” 

“No.” I shake my head with a small smile, hanging her back the letter. “If Jonathan said he doesn’t want me to go, I won’t.” I pick up my book as she slightly deflates, wanting to paint me up for the festivities I was invited to. “Please burn this now, Emily, so you don’t get in trouble.”

“Right away, Miss.” Emily bows a little before she heads out of the room, leaving me to daydream in the middle of the study in peace. 

-

“How long must we wait?” Jungkook pesters Seokjin tirelessly who looks down from his wooden pedestal in the back room of the very peculiar club. “I am afraid a letter and her dreams are not going to cut it.” Jungkook snorts, frustration flashing in his red eyes. 

“Mm, yes…” Seokjin rubs his chin with his white gloved hand, “Johnny boy has been hiding our little Alice away from our prying eyes, hasn’t he?”

“Yes!” Jungkook stomps his foot like that of a child, fists balled into tight fists at his sides. “And I was promised a maiden for all the hard work I’ve done for you!” 

Seokjin laughs darkly then, the sound echoing off the walls of his private chambers. “Jungkook, I’m not sure if you understand that poisoning people and taking out a few smaller families in our beloved city is considered hard work.” He stops then, Seokjin’s usually light voice dripping with malice when he says, “But, I suppose this is one way to end the Suhs and get the last jewel on the crown you are desiring in your attempts to rule the city.” 

“Is everything in place for the ball?” Jungkook grits his teeth as he stares up into the man who could end him in one go, but is choosing to help the young gangster. “Your magic won’t fail us now?”

Seokjin winks at him, spending him a flying kiss as he says, “It's going to be dreadfully delightful.” Ending the Suhs, managing to take out some more people in big crime families in Chicago, and adding one more perfect woman to his growing collection of pawns. 

Sure, he was mad and about to destroy several lives in the process, but hell if he wasn’t half brilliant and good looking while doing so. 

-

“Mr. Jeon!” I gasp as I peer at the man at my penthouse doorstep, covered in white flakes of heavy, wet snow sticking to his black trench coat and bowler hat. Everyone, even most of the maids were out this afternoon which is why I find myself in front of the door to the penthouse. 

“Good evening, Y/L/N.” Jeon Jungkook smiles as he looks down at me earnestly. “Is your future husband not at home?” He whispers as he looks around the empty foyer, red-rimmed eyes glancing over the dim electric lights in the hallway. 

I flush. My mind was hazy remembering my kiss with him and the other man that is never far away, Kim Seokjin, from the depths of my dreams. My dreams need to leave me be or I may turn into a codfish with the way they keep my head spinning. They haunt me so, the way my brain demands my nightmares to be replayed over and over like this. 

“I’m afraid not, he said he’d be out for the night, taking care of something important at the office.” I say with a fake sigh, shaking my head. Truthfully, he’s been acting very strange lately and I can't quite put my finger on the reason for his odd behavior. Ever since he got that letter… Come to think of it, I haven’t seen any post since that strange night. I’ll ask Emily about it in the morning. 

“I see.” Jungkook says softly. The grandfather clock chimes from the sitting room and I am suddenly aware of what time it is. I’m severely underdressed in my baby blue lounge attire, completely ill-prepared for meeting company. Books about faraway lands with princes and kings were the only thing occupying my time this evening and I’m embarrassed to even think that. “In that case, your outfit will just have to do, I suppose…”

Jungkook suddenly steps closer to me in one long stride, closing the gap between me and him. My heart skips a beat, his pupils dilate, my words run dry as he snakes one arm around my back, the other holding my chin with his thumb and forefinger. 

“Mr. Jeon-” I stammer, unable to call for help, now that this man has me in his grasp. 

“I have been willing you to come and follow me, to give into your darkest desires, but still you resist me.” The young man hisses down at me, brows knit with confusion. “You are the only thing anyone talks about and I cannot stand it any longer.” My mouth hangs open. His nostrils flare as he makes his move. “You will be mine. Not locked away in this tower while Johnny is out and about with another man. You will be our new Alice.”

Before I can say anything, he pours a vile from his pocket into my mouth, holding it above my arms so I can’t smack it away. It tastes like roast turkey and strong alcohol and I try to claw and get away but I cannot as Jungkook holds my mouth open; my tongue feels numb and my arms feel like jelly, going limp in Jungkook’s arms. The only thing I can remember before completely blacking out is the little tag on the side of the bottle that says “DRINK ME”, tied with a pink ribbon hanging from the tiny glass and the smell of his cologne which reminds me of musk with a dash of black pepper. 

-

Faint sounds of brass and strings pull me from my unconscious state in a flurry. 

My brain is working hard, producing series and strings of thoughts. Why did Mr. Jeon Jungkook do that to me? Does Jonathan know where I am? In the same breath, where am I? What was that drink? Have I been poisoned? I look at myself on the red heart-patterned bedsheets. I look fine. There is no sign or feelings that I’ve been harmed, no bruises, and most importantly of all, there is no blood. There is no indicator at all that I’ve been harmed at all, which makes me sigh in relief. 

But still, where have I been taken? This surely is not a room in the Suh residence. 

A room with no windows, a giant bed in the middle of the room, large wooden pedestals with various wax candles lit drip down the sides surround me, red velvet curtains drape the walls making the warm room seem even more dim, and a wooden swing all decorate the space I find myself trapped in. 

I can feel the color drain from my face when I realize that I’ve been here before. In fact, I’ve been here many, many times - almost every night. Not in the flesh but in my dreams. The only thing that is missing are the two men I see every night…

All the little hairs on my body stand at alert, worry coloring my thoughts, and I feign a small gasp in the large room. 

With a lump in my throat and my heart thumping so hard I fear it might try to escape my chest, I run from the room. 

My blue nightgown flutters behind me, time seems to slow as my bare feet carry me through the rooms from my dreams - though it’s backwards this time. I dash like a mad person, twirling and twisting my way through the room with mirrors on every side, seeing myself panting like a dog running so hard in the reflective glass. Though, I am happy to see I have no scratches upon my face either. I run through the room with clocks hanging all over the walls chiming and ticking at different times, springing through the belly of a giant, tall grandfather clock. I trip over the hems of my dress in the room with a long table in the middle which appears to stretch on for miles in this long room. There are various tea sets, cups, and pots along with tea cakes and sweet treats placed in a perfectly chaotic mess on the table as the eyes of various animal heads stare at me from their places hanging on the walls. 

As I shimmy through the small door leading to the room with the walls full of water and sea creatures from the ocean, I pause my panting and sputtering as I spot Mr. Jung Jaehyun with his back pressed up against the glass. He is moaning, panting himself, a masquerade mask dangling in his hand, legs wrapped around the waist of a tall man in a vest who is rolling his hips sensually into his. My eyes widen as I figure out what the two of them are doing quickly and avert my attention. My thighs rub together, a strange fire grows in my lower abdomen, and I know I shouldn’t be looking but there is nothing but pure bliss on Mr. Jung’s face.

I can’t stop, I remind myself as my feet continue to carry me through the rooms I know so well. 

Slinking away across a far wall full of lobsters without being caught, I hear Mr. Jung Jaehyun mewl one singular name, “Johnny!” I want to turn around, catch my “future” husband's side profile as he makes love to another man, confirm it’s him, but my mind flashes back to meeting Jaehyun for the first (and only) time and how they touched each other so fondly. Jungkook’s words ring in my words as I hear laughing coming from beyond the rooms filled with tanks and gilled beasts. 

Keep going. I can make it out of this place from my nightmares. 

The next room is filled with more people, though it’s hazy at best in here. There are giant hookah pipes in the middle of floor cushions, people with and without masks on touching each other so unabashedly, some naked, half-nude, or still in their ball gowns all laying over each other in a pleasure-filled party I was slightly jealous I haven’t been invited to. 

“Ms. Y/L/N?” A deep yet clear baritone purrs over the sounds of jazz music and groans of love-making. I  turn my head to his voice, feet skidding to a halt as I look at Mr. Kim Namjoon in his half-naked glory, navy blue silk robe hanging off his shoulders exposing a lovely chest, half-lidded eyes tracing my form like I am a piece of delicate meat he wishes to indulge in. “What are you doing without your mask?” He snaps his fingers, chuckling lightly as he takes another drag of his long silver pipe. “Twins, get her a mask!”

“Where am I?” I query as I feel the presence of two figures slowly approaching me out of the dim haze. “Who are you people?” It feels wrong to be here, to witness this. It doesn’t feel right. I feel out of place and my body is begging me to run and my legs tremble like a fawn. 

His brows furrow as he takes the tube out of his mouth, blowing smoke rings in my face. “Who are you to question me, Y/N?” He snickers as the “twins” catch my arms, placing a mask over my face as I struggle. “You are but another “Alice” to me. Take her to the ball, you two. The rabbit and the hatter are dying to see her, I’m sure.” They tie the mask around me successfully, leading me out of this room into the next one which I know is the one where the floor is a giant chess board. 

“Please,” I plead with the good looking twins who march on like the loyal soldiers to this strange cause, “what is all this?” The music and the chatter and maniacal laughing is growing louder as we prance down the hallway with portraits of people who are dressed in all white and all red. “I just want to know…”

“Suppose we ought to tell her?” The taller of the two says after a moment of silence between the three of us. 

“Suppose we ought not to.” The shorter one shakes his head as he carries on in the quest to take me somewhere. “Boss will be mad.”

“You are to be the belle of the ball.” The taller one says with a viscous boxy grin.

“The new “Alice”.” The short one with fluffy lips nods this time.

“Everyone keeps saying that, but I don’t know what it means?” I say as I hold my breath, about to waltz into the strange chess-board-like room. 

“The most beautiful, wonderful, talented, special, magical-” The taller twin rambles on.

“The most perfect woman at The Wonderland Ball is called “Alice” until the next one.” The shorter one states softly as he inhales a giant breath. They both let me go, pushing me forward as the drapery of the simple heart-patterned curtain gives way and I am standing at the top of a grand staircase while hundreds of people from below all gasp and stare up at me. 

As soon as I regain my footing a spotlight hits me and causes me to shield me eyes away from the bright light bearing down upon me. The upbeat music falls silent and I am acutely aware that I am standing here in my loungewear and not properly dressed to be at the forefront of attention this evening.

“And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for!” The voice that makes my hair stand up on end purrs as his lush lips soothe the microphone on the little stage they’ve set up for the jazz band to play on. Kim Seokjin, my eyes lock with his which dance with mischief, his smile greedy,  dressed to the nines in a rich green suit. “The crowning of the belle of the ball, the apple of all our eyes, the one that shines brighter than anyone in the picture shows, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N!” 

A roar of cheering, clapping, and brass music erupts as a white haired-man with a stretched, gummy smile that doesn’t fade takes my hand and leads me down the black and white staircase. The noises seemingly die in my ears as the man on my arm says nothing, grins like a cat about to catch a mouse in its claws. Time slows, people moving and waving at me become a blur as I see who is waiting at the bottom of the staircase. 

Mr. Jeon Jungkook. 

The man on my arm notices how tense I am and he ever so slightly turns his head and says to me in a deep voice, “They are not going to harm you. Jungkook is infatuated with you.” My cheeks heat up. “Seokjin is helping him accomplish his dreams because he signed his life away to the servitude of others for as long as he shall live.”

“Signed his life away?” I breathe, eyes never leaving Jungkook in a white waistcoat.

“You can’t get something for free in this world.” The cat-like man growls as we are almost there. “You’ve heard of an eye for an eye, correct?” I node slightly. “A soul of servitude so he can produce strange magic, according to him and the Red Witch of Underland.” 

My heart nearly stops realizing what has happened. “The devil?”

“Bingo, babe.” The cat-man chuckles a deep rasp, sliding his arm away from mine. “Have fun.”

“Now you kids have fun chasing rabbits!” Seokjin’s voice crackles through the microphone. “Everyone, enjoy the last few hours of the wonderland ball!” More hooting and hollering echoes in the building as I am exchanged into Jungkook’s strong arms.

“I thought you’d never make it.” He smiles from under his white mask at me. He takes my hand and leads me to be embraced on the dance floor. Seokjin smirks at us as he begins to sing a popular pop song everyone swoons at. 

“Would you like to tell me what this is all about?” I query with a sneer on my lips. “Why am I here? Why have you poisoned me?”

“I have not nor would I ever harm you.” Jungkook grips my waist tighter. “I merely gave you a strong sedative so that I could bring you to our wonderful palace.” 

“Why?” I question as he twirls me around his outstretched arm.

“Because from the moment I bumped into you, you have been the only thing consuming my mind.” He earnestly tells me, sorrow coating his eyes. “I’m not sure what trap Johnny has ensnared or tricked you in but I very much hate seeing him lock you away from the world.”

“You’re wrong.” I state angrily, glaring at him.

“He doesn’t care about you. He likes to frolic about with diplomats’ sons, not farmers’ daughters.” Jungkook smiles at me. 

“That’s not true…” I mumble, my eyes looking away from his red-rimmed ones boring down upon me. “I-I am marrying Jonathan for my own personal reasons.”

“Oh, ho?” Jungkook softly chuckles, leaning over, turning my gaze back to him as he gently caresses my cheek. “Do you really believe that, darling?”

“I do...I do! I-I came here willingly.” I tremble, my facade I’ve been trying to convince myself of  this whole time crackling under the pressure of his words. “I l-love…” My words linger as I look beyond Jungkook, looking up to see, “...Jonathan…” walking toward myself in the middle of the dance floor. 

“Jeon!” Jonathan says, Mr. Jung Jaehyun trailing behind him, eyes wide and scared when they find mine. The male in the waistcoat holding me turns his head to the noise, the brass music climaxing, the gasps of people Jonathan is stepping between couples dancing in the soft electric light from above - I feel like my heart is going to burst. My future husband pulls his arm back, fists clenched, ready to hurt Jungkook, and with an exhale I close my eyes fearing the worst was about to ensue. 

The electric lights in the strange ballroom give out in the same second. 

People scream all around me, a loud thud is heard and I feel like something unexpected is about to occur, the atmosphere heavy and full of invisible pressure. 

“Release the jabberwocky!” A voice echoes as chaos ensues. 

“Come with me.” A voice purrs, ripping me away from Jungkook’s arms. I feel almost empty as shouting and yelling break out in the middle of the dance floor. “I will protect you, Y/N, my crown jewel.”  My stomach pits hearing him say my name, tickling my ear like the serpent that led Eve to eat the apple of her demise. 

Kim Seokjin.

With a snap of his fingers, we are back in the room I started out this evening in and where my dreams always have me end at. I land on the bed in a huff and he ends up sitting upon the swing, looking at me with a triumphant smirk on his luscious lips. There is a certain air about him now that doesn’t seem so threatening, so serious now for some reason. Perhaps it’s him sitting upon the swing like that of a child? I haven’t the slightest clue. 

“Where am I?” I demand, glowering at Seokjin from across the way.

“Curiosity often leads to trouble, my dearest Y/N.”  Seokjin chuckles darkly, eyes roaming my body, a knowing look on his features. “I think before your marriage you are looking for a little trouble, if you catch my drift.” 

Trouble…

My mind completely spirals remembering the scenes of people entangled with one another, their mouths working in tandem with each other, their slippery pink tongues entwined in a passionate battle for dominance. Mr. Jung Jaehyun’s face twisted in pleasure, moaning and mewling as his lover - my future husband - was thrusting vigorously. 

A lightbulb finally goes off in my head. 

“You want me to give into you both then my dreams will end?” My voice shakes as I query to Seokjin who continues to lightly push back and forth on the swing. “Then you will let me leave?” 

His eyes flicker with a hungry vigor to them, gleaming in the dim candlelight. “Precisely.” His soft voice cuts the atmosphere like a sharp blade, leaving me with a chill radiating down my spine. “Let’s have some fun, “Alice”.” 

“As long as you promise I am to be set free from all of...this.” I gesture around the room as he makes a come hither motion with his fingers at me.  

“You have my word.” 

Somehow, I don’t believe him, but I am desperate for any way out of this wretched place I can find. 

So, I will use the body I was blessed with to the fullest extent.  

I am a loyal woman. I step toward the man on the swing, my hands coming up to the ties around my chest and my waist. His eyes spark with a ravenous hunger in the depths of his orbs. I know that I am not doing a decent thing. Seokjin snaps his fingers again, all his clothes disappearing but his green top hat, vanishing before my very eyes. I know I am more than what I am succumbing to right now. But my stomach does feel hot and my thighs rubbing together is making me feel faint for some reason. My garments fall to the floor in a soft patting sound and I lose my breath in the same moment.

Don’t tell me I actually want this…?

I stand in front of him on the swing and I can’t help but bite my lip as my eyes roam his pale figure, tracing down his collarbones to his sculpted abdominal muscles he has been hiding. Did he sell his soul to the devil to become handsome too I wonder?   

“So beautiful.” He revels looking at me unabashed, a wolfish grin spreading across his pretty face. Part of me wants him to touch me, to caress the underside of my breast, to trace the outline of my hips with his fingertips, but he doesn not. 

I have to remind myself this isn’t for me. This is for the man that has been tormenting me. 

“Get me ready for you.” Seokjin commands, smirk still spread across his face. I comply, dropping to my knees to be faced with a large member swinging forth from the middle of his legs on the swing. “And you will address me as “Sir”, understand?”

“Yes, sir.” I respond, biting my lip as I look from his eyes to his member once more.

“Suck.” He chuckles lightly, pointing to his middle and I can’t help but follow this simple instruction. 

I don’t tease him, though I’m not really sure I know what I am doing in the first place. I swirl the flat of my tongue over his mushroom-tipped head several times. He moans in response, his hands coming off the swing’s ropes to hold my hair from my face as I swallow him further down my wet cavity. My middle aches and pulses, empty, missing something as I steady myself against Seokjin’s thighs.

“Good little girl.” Seokjin hums, his sound voice making me feel appreciated. The sound vibrating through to my own middle, making me groan around him.

I bob my head up and down his long length, enjoying the way he hums and gasps in response to my efforts. It’s a little hard to breathe I think as I continue my pace, nose hitting Seokjin’s pubic bone, smelling the most intimate part of him.

My dominant hand grabs his member at the base, working him in tandem with my mouth. Up and down his thick member I go, reveling in every twitch and rumble that flies out of his throat. The swing starts to sway with my rhythmic movements, bobbing him back and forth with vigor, tears climb to my eyes.  The tip of him hits the back of my mouth, making me gag and choke on his wonderful cock. The heat was pooling in the middle of my stomach and I fear I am going to lose my mind. I pick up the motions of my mouth and hand, tears skating down my pinkened cheeks, his grip tightening around the base of my skull, digging into my scalp.

It burns… But, I also enjoy it. This feeling...so wet and tight and I feel so evil and sinful but the pleasure is driving me mad.       

“Baby girl.” There’s warning in his tone as I pop off his cock in an instant, looking up to him with big worried eyes. His head was leaned back, not focused on looking directly at myself, but the feeling of my lips and fingertips. “Up.” He commands once more, head twisting back to a comfortable position to stare at me.

I scramble to my feet, missing the feeling of him in my mouth already, not to mention aching for him in the middle of my legs. I rub my thighs together for some easy friction, knowing that it won’t help me much at this point.

Seokjin moves his hand to stroke against his giant member in his palm and I lock my orbs in place on the slit of his cock where a clear liquid was oozing out. My mind is truly hazy at best, as I just stand there and watch him stroke himself up and down in a lazy fashion. I bite my lip once more. 

I do want this. I am almost ashamed to admit that I want this man. 

“Are you going to be good and let me use you?” Seokjin’s dirty words make my middle pool and contort with more of a raging fire. 

“Y-Yes, sir.” I say again, cheeks hot and damp from sucking his cock moments ago. 

His nostrils flare, his cock twitches in his grasp as he motions to sit upon his middle. “I bet you’re so wet for me.” He chuckles, smile darkening with his words.                          

Seokjin eases me down on his thick member, my hole so wet, so slick, allowing him to stretch my clenching walls in an easy motion. I gasp, eyes popping out of my head. My nails dig into his shoulder blades, back arching with his giant, twitching dick tight inside of me. I wrap my legs around his lean waist, his pale skin flexing in the candlelight with his movements as he stills, letting my hips sink down into the base of his cock.

“Baby girl.” Seokjin purrs, breath tickling my ear as he throbs inside of me. “I need you.” He growls, littering the crook of my neck with sloppy kisses. He positions us just so on the swing, readying us to begin when he deems necessary.

“P-Please use me, s-sir-r!” I mumble in the base of his neck, feeling high on this pleasure-filled pain. 

“I live to serve.” 

I gasp as he starts moving his hips inside of my center, bucking up into my body with a fevered pace instantly. The swing moves back and forth and I feel like the motion is going to make me feel his body sliding in and out of me too well. I cling to him for dear life, my grip surely bruising him or harming him in some way as he slides in and out of my slicked out center at a brutal rhythm.

Tears find my eyes again as he nips at my neck, marking me up with tender love bites. I’m a howling, moaning mess, losing my sanity. I am finally full of Seokjin’s girth, filling me up beyond desire.

Seokjin kisses my lips then in his, melting our mouths together in a hurry. He holds my face in his palms, grunting and groaning for me, and only me. His tongue enters my mouth in search of something unknown, moaning into my lips laced together with his hot mouth connected with my pink tongue. He rolls his saliva coated tongue into mine in haste, need seeping into my senses, consuming my thoughts as he thrusts up in me, using the swing as a propellant to ease us forward and backward.

“Feels...so-o..good~!” I moan in between our passionate kisses. 

Seokjin just growls like a feral animal in response. The tip of his cock kisses my cervix continuously, brushing past a spot inside of me that instantly makes me quake. He rockets himself against me, rutting his body against my core in sync with his hips slamming into mine. Seokjin expels filth from his mouth about filling me to the brim with his seed, seeing my stomach swollen and full of his children, his warm breath hitting my ear making me shudder in response.

I can’t focus, my climax getting ready to pop at any moment. Wet noises fill the dark room, as Seokjin’s rough speed of his length in and out of my molten, wet center continues. My erect nipples swirl on his pale chest, circling quickly as he bounces me up and down his giant cock, swinging through the air like some sexual trapeze artist.

“Are you going to be good to me?” He asks me, smirk present in his tone, pace almost blinding now as he pushes in and out of me with a need so heavy and strong I can practically smell it rising from his skin. “Are you going to let me fill you up, my little doll?” Seokjin snarls into my skin.

“Pleaseeeee!” I practically scream, eyes flying open as he hits my center at just the right spot that makes me see white. 

“Ah-ah!” He tsks. “What do we say?”

“Please, sir!” I mewl and gasp, thighs quaking in his hold, my juices squelching out of me as he continues to thrust into my sensitive molten core. “Seokjin!” I cry while he growls into the scorching skin of my neck inhaling sharply as he slams his hips into my shivering body. “Sir!”

Seokjin grunts, cock spurting his seed into me with a need so raw, so feral he finds his footing hard to maintain on the swing, stilling us from moving about, holding my hips tightly down upon him. He sucks harshly on my skin as he too shudders and grunts, biting down on the crook of my neck, stretching my clenching walls around his member as he fills me with his hot white seed.

My cries of pleasure fill the small room, my pleasure-filled haze coming to a close as Seokjin shifts us - still joined together - to the bed in the middle of the room. I hold onto Seokjin as he keeps his seed inside of me, feeling like I just had the ride of my life on top of him. My climax dies down, my first high fading away, fog around my brain being lifted temporarily as my nails rake over shoulders I’ve definitely marked up. 

A cool, damp towel appears with a wave of his arms, stroking my middle with it delicately cleaning up the mess I’ve made. “How does it feel to be connected with the devil?” Seokjin sneers as he pulls out of me, making my center ache and twitch for him. 

My eyes grow wide and my lips part but before I can say anything Jungkook bursts in the room.

“Am I late?” Jungkook pants as he looks awestruck by me on the bed. 

“For a very important date.” I gaze back to Seokjin who is now fully dressed, smirking that soft, playful smile like he usually does at Mr. Jeon. “Don’t worry, I was just getting her ready for you, Jungkookie.” 

Jungkook eyes him with narrowed orbs, but buys the lie Seokjin is selling and proceeds to strip himself of his white waistcoat. “What is on the menu tonight?” His red-rimmed irises bore into mine and I feel self-conscious suddenly. He circles the bed in the manner like that of a wolf would as he finishes stripping himself of any dressy garments, though his slacks remain on. 

 “The one you most desire out of everything in this world.” Seokjin purrs, stepping up to take his seat on his pedestal high above us. 

Is he going to watch us?

“Fuck,” Jungkook growls, dropping to his knees in front of the bed suddenly. He pulls me closer to him by my ankles, throwing my thighs apart so my center is exposed to him in the rawest form. He stares at my glistening middle as I try to close my legs with a little, pathetic whimper.

“Don’t.” The rabbit-like man moans wantonly, holding onto my ankles loosely. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, you know that, right?” His hands glide up my thighs achingly slow, holding me in pace for his eyes to ravage as they please.

The fire in my lower stomach has returned, hungry and ready to go for more.

His warm fingertips make it to my inner thighs, kneading the flesh there tenderly, so close to my throbbing core that I almost beg him with a cry to dip down into me, but I refrain, hanging on to every trace or brush of his hands against my scorching flesh.

“What do you want, my darling?” He groans into my inner thigh, lips ghosting my sensitive flesh there, inching closer to my heated skin with his upper body.

“Please.” I finally ask, begging, almost choking out the word, forgetting Seokjin watching us from above.

His dominant hand finally finds my nether lips, tracing them up and down with his two longest fingers but not exactly touching me where I am aching quite yet. “Please what?” He teases, stroking me up and down slowly, holding his feral gaze in mine, amber eyes seemingly on fire.

“Please, Jungko-“

He slaps my middle with little force or malice behind it, but I jolt, mewling aloud, wanting him to secretly do it again.

Jungkook goes back to tracing my lips in the middle of my body, smug smirk seated on his devilishly handsome face. “You are so wet, darling.” He slaps me again, though this time I want it more than I’d actually care to admit.

“Jung-” I choke on my words.

He slaps me again, this time with slightly more force behind his fingertips. I hiss out a breath, staring at him with my mouth slightly ajar, brows turned up, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes already.

“I have to have a taste.” He kisses my inner thigh as he slowly traces his thumb over my slicked out folds.

I let out a wanton cry as he hums into my thighs, growling low and deep. I swear there’s a smile in his voice as he works with his mouth and fingertip in tandem. “Mine.” He breathes, sucking on the sensitive flesh of my innermost thigh, marking me with a throaty growl.

“J-Jungkook..!”

I am a mess. I let loose a series of pants, breathless moans as he works my coil in the pit of my stomach tighter with every brush or groan he grants my hot body. I am melting under Jungkook’s touch, my body feeling sticky, arousal dripping from my middle while he circles my delicate clit.

His thumb was increasing his pace of gliding over my bundle of nerves, still slow, still making my breathing become erratic, but the desire for Jungkook to do more was driving me insane. I’ve had a taste of sex and look at me wanting more. I didn’t know if I could be in the position to ask for more. But I wanted him to place those perfect, beautiful sinful lips on my molten core. Jungkook’s breath fans over my middle as he continues to stroke me down there.

I miss the twitch confined to the middle of his pants from the man watching us from above with eager need. 

As if sensing my need, his tongue swipes a slow stripe through my folds, the cool of his muscle against my exposed center making me black out for a moment, the sensation far too much for me to bear with right now. His snort of laughter brings me back to reality as he swirls his pink tongue at my empty entrance.

Jungkook laps at my folds as if he is a starved man, hungry, desperate for his next meal. I keen, gripping onto the base of his golden torso as laps at me. I’d think grounding myself on top of Jungkook’s head would make me saner, gripping his strands of hair as he goes to town in my middle. But really, it makes me feel completely mad, like I’ve gone insane.

The feral, untamed animal-like noises that escape his throat drive me absolutely wild, my skin on fire with need and want. My nails cling to his scalp, dragging him closer to my middle as he ravages my core. He maneuvers his two longest fingers through the glossy slick, lubing his digits to breach my entrance.

“Jungkook!” I gasp, choking on my words as he makes a come hither motion with his fingers, splitting my velvet walls to open for him.

Jungkook swirls his tongue over my little pearl of sensitive nerves, lapping and sucking my flesh like he's never eaten a thing in his life. He continues his very audible growling and moaning, husk in his voice incredibly thick.

“Let go, baby.” He coos into my middle as I jolt and shake, his digits brushing past the most delicious spot deep inside of my clenching walls. “Give me your release.”

His words finally tip me over the edge.

I tighten my hold on him, gritting my teeth in the process. My head falls backward on the sheets, eyes screwed closed as Jungkook slurps every inch of my middle clean, not leaving anything to go to waste.

“Kookie,” I sputter out, the feeling of his tongue and fingers becoming too much for me. “I-I’m c-c-cumming-!”

As I say the last of my words, the world comes undone around me for the second time today, my tight coil finally popping. Blinding white stars coat my vision for a second, my body shivering and shaking as I drip out onto the flat of Jungkook’s tongue.

He laps up my sensitive hole up with more snarls, more feral noises escaping his body. Tears flow down my face as I unhinge my nails from his silky blonde strands, trying to push him away from my overly sensitive flesh with pathetic mewls of protest escaping my throat.

More. My brian prompts me to continue to sate my undying lust burning inside of me. I need more.

“Jungkook,” I beg while his tongue still explores my throbbing hole, giving my sensitive skin rapt attention. “Jungkookie. Please. I c-can’t.” I tug at his blinde hair gently, trying to get him to stop teasing me with his tongue.

He doesn't stop and I can only think of one thing to ask before I lose my damn mind with him between my thighs.

“Jungkook.” I shudder, high building up once more. “Please fuck me.”

Everything in the room stills, the only sound heard was our heavy breathing. 

He looks up from my sensitive core, brows knit together as he looks into my eyes with such a passionate gaze of uncertainty. My juices were coating the bottom half of his face, his blonde hair is in a state of disarray, as he proceeds to slowly rise to his feet, looking over me on the bed.

“What?” He questions incredulously down at my fucked out form. Jungkook looks at me as if I am the most fragile thing in the world, as if I would burst into flames at any moment. “My darling, my love, there’s no going back if we-“

“I know.” I smirk up to the gorgeous gangster in all of the Windy City. “I want this too.”

His nostrils flare, his eyes widen, and his gaze softens. Jungkook looks down at me with something akin to lust, which makes my heart rate increase...

“Up.” He commands, raw husk pouring out of his tone as he starts to undo his pants, the zipper noise almost jarring in the quiet of the night.

I do as I’m told. I’ve fallen far down the rabbit hole now, I think as I shift on the bed. Standing was a little difficult as he’s just given me one of the best feelings I’ve ever had. I keep my eyes glued to Jungkook. His hands travel sensually down his tiny waist to his slacks he unbuttons. I am gasping, unable to take my eyes off the very beautiful sight of his thick cock bouncing, finally free from the confines of his dress pants. The tip was red and angry, a bead of precum adorning the slit of his mushroom-like head. He was long, girthy, and I want nothing more than it inside of myself at this very moment.

Jungkook grips the base of his cock with his hand while he steps out of his pants, giving his shaft a few pumps up and down while I watch with an open mouth.

“I’ve dreamt of this moment for so long.” He confesses softly, reaching for me with his free hand. I inch closer to him, gliding my hands over his defined body, admiring his lithe, yet sturdy frame. My fingers hungrily trace every ridge, every contour of his golden torso. Jungkook was so warm, so wonderful, and I am slightly kicking myself for not giving into him sooner. “To have you,” he continues, kissing up the side of my neck. 

“Please.” I beg him again, eyes flickering back and forth between his. 

“Turn around.” He leans in to kiss me with passionate need. His lips molding into mine as I cling to him for more. I taste my essence on his tongue which makes me whimper into his strong hold. “I’m going to fuck you now, my love.”

Again, I don’t need to be told twice as he guides me to where he wants me, bending me at the waist so my fingers dig into the unkept sheets below, my backside open and exposed to him.

“So pretty for me.” I hear the grin in his deep rumble. Jungkook slaps my bottom, granting him a hiss to escape my throat. I whine when he does it softly several more times, making my head soar.

I hear him spit before I feel the extra saliva lubricant coat my backside, the cool of his juices combined with mine was driving me up a wall.

“Jungkook!” I gasp.

He groans when I call for him, pushing his fat head of a cock at my aching, empty hole, wanting him to finally join the two of us.

“Darling,” he sounds like he’s straining to hold back. “Baby, please, fuck!” He grunts, splitting my walls inch by agonizingly slowly. I moan as he stretches me wide, entering me like he owns me. 

He thrusts inside of me all the way with one snap of his hips suddenly. A cry leaves my lips along with a strangled one from the man inside of me. My eyes widen as I realize that he’s not going to go easy on me tonight, he’s going to fuck me on his terms. I was in for a wild ride this evening.

Jungkook leans the front of himself over my sticky back, pressing our heated flesh together more, growling to the outside shell of my ear, nipping the flesh under my lobe while sliding in and out of me with a brutal pace he’s set.

“Baby…” he moans in my ear, the deep purr vibrating throughout his body making my breathing hitch and sob. His hips snapping into mine with a rhythm, I swear, no human man could ever achieve. Liquid was flowing down my eyes as the push and pull of Jungkook slamming his giant cock into my velvet folds repeatedly already had me tearing the sheets in two with my nails.

“Jung! Ah! Kook!”

Seokjin glides his hand over his cock from above the bed, matching the rhythm Jungkook’s hips produce, enjoying the wonderful show. 

I gasp this over and over like a prayer falling from my lips. My eyes are squeezed shut, my body hot with the raw purpose to feel Jugnkook inside of my heated center. His cock pushes in and out of me at a fevered pace, making my vision blur, seeing far too many white stars.

My brain is fuzzy as he hits the spot inside of me that blinds me, pleasure swimming in my veins. My third climax was surely on the way. 

“Baby,” Jungkook grunts, one of his arms snaking up my torso, his long fingers finding one of my bouncing breasts. He starts pinching my erect nipple, holding on to me tighter as we slide back and forth off of one another.

My coil was wound so tight, I don’t know if I’d be able to last much longer. Especially not with Jungkook’s fingers attaching to my hardened nipple, his lips to the crook of my neck, and his cock slamming in and out of my clenching middle with a fevered need.

He bucks into me faster, my walls clamping down on him, my coil about to pop, about to burst forth again. I can’t hold myself up any longer, my legs shaking violently. My knuckles are turning white with how hard I am clawing at the heart patterned sheets.

“Jungkook! I-“ I mewl, but I don’t get to finish my thought. 

In a split second, Jungkook pulls out of my middle, flipping me over and letting me fall onto my back so I could be face to face with him. Jungkook climbs on top of me quickly, wanting to resume his feverish pace immediately, hunger and need in his amber gaze. He settles between my legs, pushing himself back into my slicked out center easily, restarting from where he last left off.

I gasp when he enters me, clinging to his shoulders, holding him while the lewd squelching noises in the room continue to grow, faster, louder. He grips onto my hips, guiding me at a blinding speed I didn’t know he could achieve. Is he a victim of the devil as well?

Sweat was pouring off our bodies, my brain unable to produce a sane thought as he grunts and moans my name, his red orbs never leaving my face as he rockets his cock into my folds like it was his job.

It happens again, the very right feeling deep inside of my body, the one that makes me grit my teeth, that makes me see hundreds of tiny white stars.

“Jung! Kook~!” I scream into the quiet room, tears flowing from my hues as I card my fingers through his blonde strands, trying to make a purchase on his roots.

My hands travel down his backside as he snarls, “I’m going to make you my wife! Not some wannabe from the Northside!” Jungkook huffs, his movements slowing down, one of his thumbs finding my folds again, circling my aching clit in hurry - a stark contrast to earlier. “I’m going to claim you as my own.”

Seokjin smiles like he’s just won the lottery, masturbating to the sight of both his clients intertwined, fucking onto each other with unbridled lust. He comes then watching his new toy’s back arch, breasts in the air, Jungkook’s frame pounding into her with hungry trepidation. 

I grab onto the ample flesh of his bottom, feeling the world come tumbling around myself once more. Letting my body shake and quake on top of the sheets, my third orgasm taking me by force. I feel complete - feel whole for some reason. I am so completely taken aback with the storm rippling through my body in pleasureful tremors, one right after the other, I cannot even begin to breathe properly.

He lets a feral snarl rip through his body as he pumps into my leaking middle a few more times, my whole being consumed by Jungkook. He leans over me, sucking my neck colors of purples and dark reds and I scream as his cock swells inside of my velvet walls, releasing his own essence into my womb, holding him there like a vice grip as he spurts his seed deep inside of me.

Once our highs come to a close, I run my fingers through his hair, his throbbing cock still joined inside of my middle. We both pant, holding the other for dear life, finally together, and fulfilled with one other. Jungkook kisses along my jaw, moaning my name, telling me what an amazing baby doll I am as his cock finally softens inside of my aching cunt.

“Bravo.” Seokjin claps as he walks down the wooden stairs. “You both did very well!” He chuckles darkly. I squeak in surprise. I forgot he was there and I scramble to cover myself with the soiled sheets. 

“Okay, Kim,” Jungkook says as he kisses my nose, pulling out and picking up my clothes and handing them to me. He dresses in his undergarments and dress pants quickly, buttoning them up as he turns to the man all in green. “You had your show.” I listen as I dress myself with haste, back turned to the two men. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked: invested the money overseas, gotten rid of the competition and family in this lovely city, got you a new “Alice”, and even let you watch us play ball. I think it’s time to set us free.”

“Yes,” the mad man snickers, darkness clouding his tone, “you both have served me well. But nobody is leaving my perfectly curated speakeasy.” 

I turn around and my heart is dropping to the floor. Shock is written all over Jungkook’s face as I clench my jaw in guilt. 

“But, I’m afraid you both made a deal with me, and I don’t give up my new toys so easily.” Seokjin caresses Jungkook’s face in his pale hand, while holding my gaze with a sense of gentle anger. “You can’t always get what you want. But hey, look on the bright side: at least you have each other.” 

---

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this trip down the rabbit hole! Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated! 

[monstersandmaw]

Male ice dragon x cursed female reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This is a one-off special story that I wanted to write as a huge huge thank you to a very generous person who supported me on Patreon and also on ko-fi. I don't normally do this, and although this is not a commission, I did chat with them about what they would like, and I've wanted to write an ice dragon for a long time, so that worked for both of us! Thank you, 'The Silent Pariah'! Hope you enjoy it! It's been on Patreon for a week, and went down really well, so it’s time to share it here!

Content: reader is cursed to turn into a more monstrous form at night, and is locked away in a tower, guarded by an ice dragon. There's a bit of a misunderstanding, some angst, a bit of fluff, and some smut. Words: 5124

Dusk drifted down around the stones of the castle, bringing with it that daily, familiar crawling under your skin. Night was a time for monsters and shadows, for creatures less than human, and for hiding away, but you welcomed it with open arms as you had for years.

Your bones started to grow warm, your nerves ringing and prickling, and you knew it wouldn’t be long now.

Turning your back on the courtyard of the deserted castle, you left the balcony and made your way inside through the beautiful, hand carved doorway and into the bedchamber beyond. Sliding your dress off your shoulders, you stepped out of your clothes and felt the change sweeping up inside you, rising like a flood of unbridled power and raw joy. Laughing, you bowed forwards like a supplicant at a shrine, and when you straightened no more than a few minutes later, breathing hard and sweating, the creature that blinked its reptilian eyes back at you from the mirror on the far wall was not the nobleman’s daughter with the blood of kings flowing through her veins.

Blueish black, scaled skin covered your cheeks, the delicate scales leading your gaze towards pointed ears, just barely visible through the thick hair that fell around your now inhuman face. Blinking slowly as your gold, crackle-glazed eyes readjusted, you rolled your shoulders and flexed your taloned hands. With skin the colour of shadows at midnight, and a spine-studded whip of a tail, you slid on a simple linen tunic and turned for the spiral staircase.

Outside, through the walls of the castle, you could hear the enormous wing beats of the only other soul who lived in this vast castle, each flex of his wing strong as a storm wind as he came back to his roost at sunset.

“There you are,” came a deep, sonorous rumbling voice as you stepped out into the evening air, still revelling in the change.

Looking like a thousand shards of moonlight, the dragon adorned the crumbling curtain wall of the castle, delicately perching there with the grace of an ornamental bird.

“Irien,” you smiled. “Good day?”

Polite as ever, he inclined his head, slowly blinking sapphire blue eyes and smiling softly to reveal a maw full of deadly teeth. The dragon stretched out one of his elegant, muscular forelegs and climbed down from the wall, over the old stable block, and into the courtyard like a cat slinking down a flight of steps. His ivory talons barely made a whisper on the slate roofs of the tumble-down old buildings, and with his silky-white wings tucked neatly against his scaled back, he flowed like quicksilver.

“Mmm, yes,” he purred, lowering his head almost to the ground in greeting and closing his eyes again as you ran your hands over the glass-hard scales of his face. Each one was the size of your palm there, but as they slid further down his glacially pale body, they grew large as your whole hand, some even bigger than that. “So warm,” he laughed, nuzzling your fingers playfully and breathing his icy breath against your fingers.

“I’m not that warm. It’s not my fault you’re basically an icicle,” you snorted and he laughed, drawing his neck up like a swan.

Suddenly he scowled and turned serious, his whole body tensing.

“Company?” you asked.

You’d been through this charade together before, and something always sank a little in your chest when you thought about what the arrival of a knight and his little posse might mean. Would they have some magic with them this time that negated the ageless magic of the dragon? Some spear sharp enough to pierce his scales? Some trick he’d never heard of? Perhaps a ballista borrowed from the dragon hunters of the south? Would this be the day that your curse would be broken and you’d have to leave the relative freedom of your castle for the gilded cage of marriage?

Irien looked back at you, his eyes hard and stern as he watched your internal struggle play out in a series of scowls across your face. “Same as usual?” he asked.

“Drive them away,” you snarled. “I have no interest in breaking this curse so I can go and live like a brood mare until I produce the requisite number of appropriately-gendered offspring, thank you.”

With a savage snarl, he beat his wings, once, twice, and launched himself into the air. His ensuing war-scream could have split the night sky in two and it made your ears ring and your vision blur.

Irien was relatively young for a dragon but he was still nearly a hundred years old, and there wasn’t a trick or strategy he hadn’t yet encountered from some upstart young knight, hoping to win fame and fortune at the end of a lance. Oh, and the chance to break your curse. Somehow that always seemed to be an afterthought with these men.

“No one ever bothers to ask if I even want ‘rescuing’,” you muttered bitterly as you watched Irien sail away like a galleon on the unseen currents of air.

He circled the central tower of the old elven castle once to get a measure of how many there were, before spiralling down in a whirling corkscrew, breath blazing shards of ice down on the unfortunate troop somewhere beyond your view below. It wasn’t that you didn’t feel sorry for the way they died - at least it was quick - but you couldn’t help the sour sting of spite that lanced through you whenever Irien announced that there was another lot at the abandoned castle’s gates. Your parents still hadn’t given up on ridding the family of the stain of your curse.

Irien was back within five minutes, landing gracefully beside you, breathing hard from the exertion of flying and drawing on his reserves to create the ice-laced breath inside him.

“Were there many this time?”

He shook his head. “Only six in total.”

“Banners?”

“Grey and yellow field with a black raven.”

You turned away in disgust. “Those were Halvard’s men,” you said. “My father’s closest adviser.” Lifting your shadowy palm, you curled your fingers and inspected the black claws before turning your hand over and watching the way the moonlight glinted on the leathery scales on the back of your hand.

Monstrous. Vile. Cursed.

Lock her away!

True love’s kiss! The only way to break it!

Dragonskeep is the only place for her now. She cannot be seen.

The shame of our family…

Irien’s soft, concerned rumble behind you drew you back from your ragged collection of memories and you turned with a half smile. “I pity you sometimes, you know?” you sighed.

“Me?” he asked with a soft chuckle, falling into step beside you as you wandered off, vaguely thinking of heading towards the rambling rose gardens at the back of the castle. “Why would you pity me? You’re the one locked in here with a dragon who keeps eating the men who come to rescue you.”

“True. I used to think you were no better than them,” you admitted. “Those first few years after they dumped me here…”

Since then, you thought he’d rather come to think of you as part of the castle furniture, or even just another thing in his hoard to guard and protect. It was better than nothing, you supposed, and you had the books in the old elven library for company, and the vegetable garden at the back that you’d been restoring since you were sixteen, and a rather impressive number of stone sculptures ranging from the ‘uniquely abstract’ to something halfway decent. The masons who had abandoned the stone workshops in the gardens of the castle had left their tools behind, like children’s toys abandoned.

He scowled, clearly a little affronted, and shuffled his wings like a chilly bird. “Why? Have I ever given you reason to think badly of me?”

You stopped and raised an eyebrow at him. “You accepted their gold and gems easily enough when they showed up on your doorstep with a newly-cursed thirteen year old and struck whatever bargain it was with you to keep me here,” you pointed out. It felt so long ago now, but you’d never forget the first time you’d seen him. You’d burst into tears and begged your parents not to abandon you here.

Irien had the good grace to look embarrassed at that, turning his snowy head away and grunting awkwardly. “I… Well, I did, yes. But when I asked why they wanted me to take a girl under my protection ‘until such time as her true love can break the curse’, I have to say I was frankly appalled.”

Something ugly twisted inside you at his words. Perhaps it was the recent reminder of the world’s disgust at your ‘condition’, and their determination to change you back, but hot outrage boiled up inside you at his words. “Appalled? So you do think the way they do?”

“What?”

“This!” you blurted, halting and angling your face so that the moonlight glinted on the scales there and on the jaw full of fangs. You stared him down with blazing, inhuman, yellow eyes. “You do think this is disgusting, just the way they do?”

“I thought you didn’t care,” he replied haughtily. “I thought you didn’t care about the curse at all.”

“I don’t!” you practically shrieked. “But I do care about -” you cut off suddenly, feeling as though the ground were rocking beneath you. All these years, he’d just been tolerating your company because of the regular shipments of diamonds and cut gemstones that your parents added to his vault of hoarded wealth in an attempt to keep all but the most determined suitors at bay.

“Care about what?” Irien asked in a softer voice.

“What would you know?” you hissed, turning away and marching towards the tower where he couldn’t enter without bringing the whole lot down around him. “You’re made of ice anyway.”

You left Irien standing in the courtyard and marched up the stairs back to your chambers. You heard Irien lingering in the courtyard, but eventually he took wing and left the castle for his preferred roost on the cliff just above it. It was a long time before you got to sleep that night.

When dawn came the next day, you didn't bother getting out of bed til late in the day, and you clung to the shadows of the library instead of going out to tend to the garden. It was a warm day, and the plants would need a water, but you just couldn’t face meeting Irien now. For all the time that you’d been here, you’d always assumed that he’d seen past the effects of the curse.

It had taken you almost a year not to be afraid of him, but as the months had ticked by after that, and he’d shown you the castle grounds and how to take care of the abandoned elven fortress; how to feed yourself and even how to read ancient elven so that you could access the rest of the books in the library; you’d come to think of him as more of a guardian than a guard. Had he just been humouring the cursed little girl all these years, despite the fact that you were a woman grown now?

Late in the afternoon, just as you started to feel restless again with the gradual sinking of the sun, a faint tapping reached your ears, coming from the far end of the library. The room stretched the full length of one of the newer wings of the castle complex, with light flooding in on either side through huge windows, and at the far end it terminated in a wide balustraded balcony where former scholars would no doubt have gone to get some air during their studies.

You poked your head out from behind the bookshelf where you’d been studying best way to rid a certain garden herb of aphids, and squinted along the clear aisle between the rows of shelves. There, at the balcony at the far end, you could just glimpse Irien, gently tapping a claw on the glass. He was far too large to fit his body onto the terrace, but he could perch elegantly on the rim like a butterfly on a teacup.

Grinding your teeth, you fleetingly considered simply ignoring him, but in the end you straightened and dumped the book on the floorboards. Grim-faced, you marched up the length of the room and opened the leaded-glass door at the far end, coming to a halt in the centre of the balcony with crossed arms.

“I think,” Irien carefully began the moment you were outside, “That we may have had a misunderstanding yesterday.”

Your scowl deepened.

“Hear me out?” he asked, clearly well aware of your tendency to bolt at the first sign of discord.

Reluctantly, you nodded. As far as you knew, he’d never lied to you before.

Out here in the fading sunshine, with the low light flashing in prismatic ripples along those pearlescent scales, he looked… Frankly, he looked like a dream, and something ached inside you the longer you gazed at him. The graceful lines of his lithe, powerful body, the delicate, leathery membrane of his white wings, his ivory claws, the crystal spikes that adorned his head like a crown and continued down his lissom neck to his shoulders, only to start up again at the root of his tail and end in a fractured cluster of crystals around the tip of his tail; everything about him spoke of elder magic and of something ancient, something lost and forgotten from another age, despite his relative youth. He was intoxicating.

With a great inhale as if for courage, he began by apologising. “I’m sorry that what I said came out so wrongly yesterday,” he said. “I didn’t mean that you are appalling in any way. What has always appalled me, however, is the fact that your parents were prepared to abandon their own child to the dubious care of a dragon, and lock her away in an old elven stronghold for something that wasn’t her fault or doing in the first place.”

“Oh.” Well… when he put it that way…

“Oh,” he laughed. “I thought you might know me a little better than that after so much time together…” he added, tone bordering on huffy and petulant.

Even you had to admit that it was true. “Yeah,” you hedged. “I… I thought I did too. Maybe that was why I was so shocked. I’m sorry too… I was still in a strange mood after the soldiers came and I let it get in the way and took what you said the wrong way.”

Irien smiled gently and rumbled a slow, almost juddering exhale that you’d always found strangely attractive. In fact, you nearly missed what he said because your attention was focused on the sound. “I promise that what I said to you all those years ago still stands… the time I found you crying on the roof of the keep.”

Your lips gave a feeble twitch at that. He’d had to fly you down because you’d been too scared to climb. “And what is that?” you demanded though you recalled it perfectly well. Your eyes glittered as the mood shifted palpably between you, both tangibly relieved to be sliding back into your familiar repartee and banter, almost as if you’d not fallen out at all.

Catching the look in your eye, he gave another half-laugh. “That if you like the way you are, then it seems pretty futile to me to try to change you against your will. And personally,” he added, lowering his head a little and turning a tad bashful, “I think you’re beautiful whether the sun is up or down.”

The churning in your stomach that had been gnawing away at you since the previous evening suddenly stilled, and you smiled. “Really? I mean… it doesn’t bother you at all?”

Irien rolled his lovely blue eyes. “Not in the slightest. If anything, your ‘cursed’ form is… well…” He bustled and flustered a little with his wings, turning his gaze away.

That was a surprise. “Is what, Irien?”

“You’re stronger and faster like that; your eyes work better in the dark, and your hands seem to borrow a bit of inspiration from my kind,” he said, holding up one ivory-clawed hand so that the sunlight danced off his own talons for a moment. “And you have a tail…” he croaked.

“Sounds like you’re trying to tell me you’ve got a crush on my cursed self,” you snorted in disbelief, taking a few steps over to the balcony and resting your forearms on it. When he didn’t answer immediately, you shot him a sidelong look. “Irien?”

“I… have tried to tell myself that we are victims of circumstance… That… what I have come to feel for you is only to be expected when two souls are locked away in close quarters with each other for so long, but…” He paused and shrugged as he returned your look askance and exhaled. “Alas, I remain unconvinced.”

“Wait, is that your way of saying you do have a crush on me after all?”

He scoffed, frustrated with himself, and snapped, “When you put it in those terms, it sounds somewhat… cheap and insincere.”

His fingers flexed on the stonework, talons grinding small indents into it and sending a tiny trickle of finely-ground dust to the tiled floor of the balcony. Reaching one hand out you placed it over the leathery scales on his hand - really his foreleg - and squeezed. It was like squeezing stone, but he clearly felt the impact because he jolted a little in surprise and slid a foot down the wall from his perch. His wings flapped instinctively to keep himself in place and you almost laughed.

“So your feelings for me aren’t cheap and insincere then?”

“No,” he growled, and then with a little more grace he sighed. “No, not at all. I can’t stop thinking about you. Whenever I see someone with their troops tramping up to the gate, it’s not my hoard I think to protect.” He turned his head and blinked quietly at you. “It’s you.”

Something caught in your throat at that and tears prickled your eyes. “Irien…”

“Mmm?” he rumbled.

“Will you fly me somewhere?”

“Anywhere. Where would you like me to take you?”

Your eyes drifted over the rambling castle grounds, bathed in the golden light of early evening. Of course, now that you knew he truly cared for you, perhaps you could persuade him to fly you anywhere in the world, although it wasn’t particularly safe for his kind out there. People built cruel ballistae with bolts as thick as tree trunks to fell dragons from the sky like downed swans, but in these parts, he assured you he was safe enough.

When you didn’t answer him immediately, he rumbled your name and lowered his white muzzle to the balustrade, resting it there and watching like a patient hound while you decided. You placed your fingers on his nose and felt the chilly, frosty breath wash over them. The sheer steadiness of his presence was almost overwhelming, like he had his own gravity and was drawing you in and holding you there. You found both of your hands going to his face and suddenly you were leaning over him and sobbing.

“Hey,” he murmured, bringing one wingtip carefully to touch your shoulder. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You sniffed but the surging emotions refused to let you talk. It was too much. After a lifetime knowing you’d been abandoned here for who and what you were, to have the unwavering acceptance of the only being in the world who had shown you true respect and kindness… it left you spinning.

His pale hand closed around your waist and he pushed off the tower with you delicately in his grasp. You’d done this before, though not often, and the thrilling swoop in your stomach chased most of your tears away, leaving room for little else but wonder in your heart as the world spread out beneath you like a patchwork quilt.

Irien didn’t tell you where he was headed, and you found you didn’t care where he took you. He climbed higher into the hazy, lavender sky above, and soared over the castle wall and out into the pastures beyond where deer grazed and occasionally the massive mountain sheep would come down to enjoy respite in the warmer valley in the winter. Out beyond the open, untamed fields, a huge, glittering lake sparkled, and he seemed to be making for it as he glided along on unseen thermals.

The sun had just begun to kiss the mountain tops to the west, gilding a line of fire along their silhouettes, when he landed on the quartz pebbles of the lake shore, their colour almost the same as his own white scales. He set you down on the grassy bank just above the beach and stepped back.

“Better?” he asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he replied, bringing his head back and nuzzling your stomach affectionately, blue eyes rolling closed.

As your hands traced the contours of his massive head, he sank his body down to lie on the pebbles and curled his tail around his legs like a cat. The rumbling of his breathing soon deepened until you had to giggle. “Are you purring? Do dragons purr?”

“Only when we’re - oh - really… ahh…” he faltered as your fingertips skirted around the base of one of his crystalline horns which was, apparently, extremely sensitive.

“Really what, Irien…”

“Ah…” he gasped as you repeated the gesture. “Oh… gods that’s good…” he blurted.

You kept doing it until he rolled onto one side, breathing quickening as a tangible shiver passed along his spine. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive,” you murmured, leaning down to plant a kiss on his smooth cheek.

Half-twitch and half-spasm, his right foreleg raked a huge channel through the pebbles as he groaned long and low, claws flexed.

“Should I stop?” you teased.

“Up to you,” he rasped. “But…”

“But what…?”

He seemed to be having difficulty stringing a sentence together, which was amusing. The fact that he was so affected by your touch was definitely doing things to you as well, and as you felt the sun going down, you realised you were going to shift soon.

“But what, Irien?”

His jaws opened and he began to pant, little crystals of ice forming along his canines and over the pebbles of the beach where his head lay pillowed. His belly was pale as moonlight, the iridescent sheen only beginning on the larger scales of his sides and back, and as you gazed down the length of his body, you saw that the small slit in the sheath on his lower abdomen, almost between his legs, had begun to glisten with a pearlescent fluid. It looked swollen too, and as you caressed that sensitive spot on his head again, you watched as the very tip of his cock began to emerge from the sheath.

“You want me to keep going?” you asked, feeling your own skin heating up, partly from the impending change and partly because the sight of him getting so worked up was affecting you too.

“I didn’t… bring you here for… this,” he panted. “But I won’t stop you if you want to.”

“Do you want it though?” you asked, stepping back as your bones began to creak and shift. “Shit, sorry I’m… I’m shifting…” you gasped, reeling backwards and landing hard on the ground behind you. “I thought I had a few more minutes…”

It didn’t take long, and when you looked up, he was watching you with his steady, sapphire gaze. “Alright?” he asked. “I’ve never seen you change.”

With your new ‘monstrous’ eyes, you had an even better view of him. Where your human sight saw gentle rainbows shimmering on his scales, now you saw refracted light glittering and shattering off his spines, and the sheer depth of colour in his eyes was phenomenal. “How about another kind of ‘first’?” you asked, voice huskier now, and you began to slide the simple shirt up over your head.

The heat of his gaze made you preen a little as you revealed your dark blue, scaled body to him. His jaw parted again, mouth hanging open softly, and his tongue was visible too behind that row of enormous teeth. He was tasting your arousal on the air, you realised, like a predator.

“Gods, that’s hot,” you hissed and he tilted his head, catlike. “I want you, Irien. Is… Is that wrong?”

He shook his head. “If it’s what you feel, then it’s not wrong. I want you too, though I fear I might break you.”

“We’ll have to get creative,” you grinned, feeling your tail lashing behind you playfully.

“Look at you,” he snarled, rearing up a little like a cat about to pounce; a cat made of glass and porcelain.

His cock was not yet fully unsheathed, but you could see it - dark blue at the base, the colour of the heart of the lake behind him, with paler ridges that looked extremely inviting, and fading to pure white at the tip. It twitched and drooled under your gaze and he grunted softly. He was huge. The only way you could think to give him any kind of pleasure would be either to ride him and grind yourself along his length as best you could, or to loop your legs around it and let him fuck the space between them, and honestly, both had their appeal.

A huge drop of pre-come slid from the tip and landed on the pebbles below as his cock twitched again. He was breathing hard now, nostrils flared, and he stared openly as you stepped out of the last of your clothes, moving towards him while he stayed perfectly still. It was as if he thought you’d evaporate if he shifted so much as a muscle.

He whispered your name and you placed your finger on his lips in passing as you stalked along the length of his body. With the slightest pressure of your hands you asked him to tip over onto his side again, and he did without question.

The huge dragon folded his wings carefully behind him and then rolled onto his back as you directed him with little more than a quick touch here or there. His cock began to slide fully free of the slick sheath, and you jutted your chin upwards at his belly. He understood your request and brought his hand to the ground, palm up, for you to step into, and he raised you up onto his stomach. His hand fell back immediately to the beach beneath, limp and weak. You straddled his cock and he gave a huge, low frequency groan that made the water ripple and dance. His tail lashed violently, sending a spray of pebbles up into the air and splashing down into the water.

Slowly, teasingly, you rocked your hips over the tip of his cock and watched him leaking beneath you and all over his stomach. The claws of his hands scrabbled in the stones beneath him and his wings, stretched out on either side like a butterfly on display, flexed to their widest span. His head jerked backwards and he opened his maw wide.

“You like that?” you asked and he nodded, mute with pleasure as you picked up a steady rhythm.

“Oh gods that’s so good,” he grunted after a while, voice sounding wrecked. He bucked his hips upwards and nearly dislodged you, but you grabbed the scales of his belly and ground down harder against him, gripping with your thighs. “I’m not going… to last long,” he panted. “I’m… oh gods… oh…” and he chanted your name over and over as you worked him harder and harder.

You managed to catch a ridge of his cock against your clit and ground yourself into it before bringing your finger carefully there to help you along. When he realised what you were doing, he took one look at you pleasuring yourself and using his cock to help, gave a short whimper, before his whole body tensed up.

He came all over himself, ropes of hot release searing against your clit in a rush as his body clenched and convulsed, mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure, and you found yourself coming a heartbeat later. Your fingers gripped his cock, prolonging and intensifying his orgasm as you came in waves atop his cock.

Eventually he slumped back, head knocking against the pebbles behind him, and he lay there, twitching and spent, apparently dazed and reeling from the force of his orgasm. Your legs were slick and shaky too, but as you moved off him, he managed to raise his hand to help you down.

“I’m going to have to bathe in the lake to clean off,” you grunted, looking down at yourself. “Look at me.”

“I am,” he said. “You’re beautiful.”

Feeling a little unsteady still, you turned away from him and said, “Come and join me when you’ve recovered a bit…”

“Mmm,” he said, making no move at all as you strode into the lake. He was clearly enjoying the view, and it was a long time before he rolled himself over and heaved his body up to join you. When he did, he nuzzled you and let you lounge on his foreleg, half in and out of the water. He brought his tongue to your thighs and carefully laved it up and over your body, honing in on your clit which was still aching and sensitive.

Your legs parted instinctively for him and as he raked his teeth appreciatively over your stomach, bringing you up to his maw so that he could taste you better, you let yourself fall limp in his hands. It wasn’t long before he had you shuddering and moaning against his tongue, gasping his name.

He made you come twice more after that, the last time on the grassy bank above the lake shore, and as he curled around you protectively to let you recover, you rested your head against his side and sighed. “I don’t ever want to leave here,” you murmured. “Can it always be like this?”

“I’ll try,” he smiled, laying his head down beside you. “I’ll try.”

—

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[themurphyzone]

Nova Ch 9

AN: I know it’s been two months since the last update, so thanks for your patience!

Ch 9: Gravity

AO3 Link, FFN Link

Brain didn’t remember walking back to the lab. While his thoughts meandered in many different directions, they all converged into one harsh truth.

He’d lost his only lead to Snowball.

If only he’d been faster. If only he’d noticed the Selenian camera sooner. So many ifs, so many actions he could’ve taken to prevent losing such a valuable item.

He’d allowed himself to be distracted from his goal. Terra was a fascinating planet, yet burgers and karaoke and sunglasses wouldn’t bring him closer to establishing his dominion over it. Pinky’s short attention span must’ve affected him too.

How else could he explain it?

His feet were on autopilot, his mind in a daze. Pinky tried to start a conversation several times, mostly about trivial things like the shape of a cloud or a flower that grew between the cracks of the sidewalk. But he trailed off once he realized Brain wasn’t interested in any of them.

His tears had ceased by the time they arrived on the lab’s doorstep, but the raw ache in his chest remained. The neck of his shirt was damp and slightly darker from where the tears had splashed down, and there were similar dark patches on Pinky’s lavender blouse.

No physical reminders could remain of his momentary weakness, so he quickly took off the shirt and shorts Pinky had given him, leaving them behind on the counter. Then he snatched up his black jumpsuit and pulled it over his body.

Though it didn’t make him feel better. Somehow, the jumpsuit seemed more restrictive than before. He unlatched the window and sat down on the protruding edge, the fabric pulling tightly against his limbs.

It was designed for efficiency, not for comfort.  

Behind him, Pinky gathered up the crumpled clothing, and Brain tried not to feel guilty for treating the items Pinky had generously given him like trash.

It was Pinky’s fault for distracting him in the first place.

Find Snowball. Take over the world.

Two simple steps. Anything not related to the above was unnecessary.

“You want some tea, Brain?” Pinky asked. “I can put lemon and honey in it too if you want.”

Brain’s ear twitched, but he said nothing. He swung his legs over the edge of the windowsill, hoping Pinky would take the hint and leave him alone.

But Pinky was incapable of recognizing subtle cues.

“Brain?” Pinky called again. 

Pinky’s footsteps increased in volume, then Brain felt a hand on his shoulder. It was a soft touch, but even so, Brain didn’t want it.

He didn’t need pity.

Brain shrugged the hand off, and Pinky made a tiny, surprised noise that was quieter than the vehicles rushing down the road, but was far too loud for Brain’s ears.

He knew what Pinky had done for him, even if they were strangers.

But Brain was going to rule the world soon. He shouldn’t feel guilty over this. This arrangement was temporary. 

He looked at Pinky and caught the downturned blue eyes, the rejected hand still poised to comfort. Pinky’s other arm clutched the bundle of clothing Brain had discarded.

“Leave me alone, Pinky,” Brain ordered, turning away so he didn’t have to see that hurt expression.

“Narf…” Pinky whispered, and his sadness was palpable as he trudged back into the lab, leaving Brain alone with his thoughts.

It was what he asked for. He couldn’t take back commands once issued.

He had to be unyielding at all times.

Laying back against the cool surface of the windowsill, he stared up at the faraway crescent that was New Selene.

It was so tiny from his current location. Curiously, he raised one hand to the sky, and New Selene was hardly bigger than his own body part.

Though it was a matter of perspective, he found that it was a concept even his brilliant mind had difficulty comprehending.

Logically, he knew New Selene wasn’t big. Simply empty and barren, with life concentrated in tiny little pockets, which gave the illusion of largeness.

In the grand scheme of the universe, Terra was simply an insignificant body as well. Even the sun, the very star that all life depended on within this section of the universe, paled in comparison to the largest stars.

And if comprehending size wasn’t enough, there was also a matter of distance. While many alien cultures had developed technology that enabled ships to travel faster than the speed of light, the simple truth was that light was the fastest naturally occurring substance in nature.

Stargazing meant looking into a canopy of history, stars only appearing as they did millions or billions years ago. It was a sobering thought, that stars could exist for that long when recorded history for many civilizations was hardly a fraction of their timespan.

Then there was his life.

Though some part of him knew that nothing lasts forever, and no matter how much he wished to be remembered as a wise and powerful leader, there would come a day where his name would be forever lost and his legacy forgotten.

He just hoped that day wouldn’t come shortly after his death.

There was noise around him. Chirping from the vegetation, the roar of vehicles, Pinky humming from somewhere within the lab.

Though the background noise was more welcome than the near silence of New Selene, it still didn’t drive away all his spiraling thoughts.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been staring into the night, but a rustle from the bushes underneath the windowsill drew his attention.

Then he spotted a familiar tuft of amber fur, the stubby antennae, a flash of pink eyes—and Brain tumbled off the windowsill in shock, landing in the dirt with a painful thud.

Snowball?

Brain rubbed his head, clearing away the dizziness. Maybe he was just clinging to false hope. That he wanted to find Snowball so much that he imagined his presence.

Then the familiar chill hit him, and he knew Snowball was actually here.

The aisam studied his claws nonchalantly, letting a fine mist coat them and evaporate into the night. His control over his enhancements was impeccable. Perhaps the haughty, refined air Snowball wielded should’ve been a warning, but Brain was far too relieved and exhausted to care.

Snowball was back. Soon they’d rule the world together.

That’s what truly mattered.

Slowly, Brain got to his feet, wincing as a muscle pulled on his left thigh.

Snowball simply waited, and while part of Brain was annoyed at Snowball for not helping him up, he was also glad that Snowball allowed him to keep his self-sufficiency intact.

“I was looking for you,” Brain breathed, unable to keep the relief out of his voice. “Where were you? What happened to the rest of the Conquistador?”

Snowball draped an arm over Brain’s shoulders and pulled him closer, and Brain nearly stumbled over his feet. He sighed, the cold electron flow seeping into his antennae and body, but this was a special occasion, so he decided to put up with it just this once.

He must’ve been spoiled by Pinky’s warm and lively electrons. A shiver ran up Brain’s spine, and he clenched his fists together so his involuntary reflex would be less noticeable. 

“Oh, how I missed you and all your idiosyncrasies, Brain,” Snowball said, patting Brain on the head. Brain scowled. The move felt awfully condescending. “You see, the Conquistador’s back section wasn’t structurally stable. It must’ve broken off when we entered Terra’s atmosphere.”

“That ship is my magnum opus!” Brain snarled, his fur bristling. He shoved Snowball off and crossed his arms. “My engineering skills are top of the line. There were no flaws in the structural integrity!”

Snowball didn’t look all that impressed. “I’m sorry, old friend. But even the most skilled engineer can’t salvage second hand equipment.”

Brain sighed, reluctantly conceding Snowball’s point. The Conquistador was built out of scrap metal, not the newest and flashiest pieces of technology. Deep down, he knew that the ship would never function as well as the most advanced fleet of vessels, though he’d never admit it.

“And what about you, Snowball? How did you find me?” Brain asked, deciding a slight change of topic was in order.

“I managed to land my portion of the ship without incurring too many injuries,” Snowball said, gesturing to his body. If he was injured at all, he hid it remarkably well. Brain looked for any telltale signs of bruising or bandages, but didn’t find any. Not a single piece of singed fur either. “The internal communication system was fried, but the landing gear was mercifully intact.”

Then again, Snowball could’ve spent some time grooming himself before he came here. He liked to appear his best.

Perhaps he should’ve refined the communication system more. Then they could’ve avoided this entire mess and gotten around to world domination sooner.

Though some tiny part of him protested that statement. If he hadn’t crash landed in the field, he wouldn’t have met Pinky.

He quickly beat down that notion.

Pinky was an easily distracted idiot. Just a mere convenience until he found his footing in this new world.

“And the cameras were in working condition as well. I figured you landed somewhere nearby, and I sent them to scour the city to find you,” Snowball continued. “Naturally, you can imagine my surprise when one of them located you in a public location, singing with some moronic Terran.”

“You witnessed that?” Brain asked. He felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

He didn’t know much about music on this planet, but when Pinky had dedicated his last song to Pharfignewton and Snowball, somehow he felt that he had to drop everything to listen.

It was a kind gesture for someone who never personally met Snowball.

And Brain felt uneasy at the scorn in Snowball’s voice. That simple action didn’t deserve mockery.

Snowball shrugged. “You can’t let anything distract you, Brain. Not fairy tales, not the whims and trivialities of this planet, and certainly not incompetent nincompoops who only care about stuffing themselves with food.”  

This wasn’t how he’d wanted their reunion to go.

Somehow, he’d imagined it to be happier. He thought Snowball would be more concerned for his well-being.

It took all his strength to hold his ears high. He wouldn’t show any sign of weakness.

“Now, onto business…” Snowball clapped his hands together, but before he could announce what he planned, there was a sudden burst of activity on the windowsill above their heads.

“Braaa-aaain!” Pinky called. “Where’d you go? I made tea with lemon and honey! Wanna try some? Poit! I was gonna put in rainbow sprinkles or confetti but I didn’t know what you liked so I just left those out!”

Pinky came into view, holding a thimble out to where he expected Brain to be, but he paused when Brain wasn’t there. He paced around, his footsteps steadily growing more frantic and his tail twitching erratically.

Brain felt Snowball’s gaze boring into the back of his skull, obviously questioning why he’d acquaint himself with such a clingy buffoon, but he ignored it.

“Down here, Pinky!” Brain shouted.

Pinky looked down, nearly spilling the steamy contents of the thimble. The worry etched in his face vanished and was replaced by a ridiculous grin. “Oh, there you are, Brain! I was looking everywhere for you! And egad, you have a guest! Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve gotten a thimble for him too!”

“Yes, Brain,” Snowball smirked, and Brain knew he was being irritating on purpose. “Why didn’t you tell him I was coming over? It’s really quite rude. Then again, I can hardly expect you to be tactful.”

“And I can hardly expect you to not be a nuisance, Snowball,” Brain grumbled. 

Snowball just folded his arms, as if he were proud of that fact, and Brain scowled at him. Then Snowball turned to Pinky, who set the thimble down and began twisting his own ears in a vain yet valiant attempt to fly.

“So you’re Pinky,” Snowball said. There was a hint of disdain in his voice, but Brain assumed that was just because he wasn’t used to Pinky’s brand of idiocy yet. “I must admit, you aren’t quite what I expected.”

Pinky beamed. “Zort! Well, can’t say I was expecting you either. Brain’s told me so much about you! Won’t you come up for some tea? Oh, we can have our own tea party with Nicholas and Mr. Button! Hmm, maybe I should invite Madame Daisy too? Short notice, but I’m sure she’ll agree! She’s got the loveliest petals! I don’t think you’ve met her either, Brain. But this would be a good time to introduce you! And oh, you’ve never tried my no-bake cheesecake, have you? It’s very easy to make!”

“Before you run off with your inane ideas, throw something down so Snowball and I can get up there!” Brain shouted.

Saluting eagerly, Pinky scampered out of view, then brought back a pencil and threw it off the windowsill. The pencil landed a few inches away from Brain and Snowball. Unimpressed, Brain glared up at Pinky, who smiled bashfully and tried again.

“A rope or cord would suffice,” Brain sighed just as Pinky was about to throw a paper clip to them.

To Snowball’s credit, he showed little reaction to Pinky’s bizarre logic and casually studied his claws instead. 

This time, Pinky tied a long, thick strand of yarn to the window latch and let it fall to the ground. Brain climbed up first, allowing Pinky to pull him onto the windowsill.

“About time,” Brain muttered.

Snowball pulled the yarn to check its tensile strength, but didn’t climb up. “Ah, I just remembered something,” he said, in a manner that suggested he didn’t forget at all and was just being dramatic. He disappeared into the bushes for a moment, then dragged out a large blue cap. It had been well-hidden among the leaves. Snowball took his end of the yarn and tied it around a hole in the back of the cap, one end of his lips quirked in a smug smile.

“Is that for me?” Pinky pointed to the cap in disbelief, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He clasped his hands and swayed from side to side.  

It was the same cap from the electronics store. The one Pinky had earned through singing. It didn’t contain money anymore, though coins and dollar bills were considered valuable commodities on Terra and Brain would’ve been more surprised if they’d been left alone.

He never realized Pinky had left the cap behind.

“I thought you wanted that cap, Pinky,” Brain said. “Why leave it behind?”

“Well, I couldn’t chase after you and carry the cap at the same time,” Pinky shrugged, like it was no big deal that their trip to the mall had been for naught. “I didn’t wanna lose you. The mall’s a big place.”

Brain gritted his teeth. This was the second time Pinky had abandoned his goal in favor of helping someone else. He’d allowed the incident with the wallet a pass since Pinky wasn’t used to setting objectives yet, but he thought Pinky would’ve learned the second time.  

Even if it was for Brain’s benefit.

But Brain didn’t need help. He was a self-sufficient mos.

Once Snowball set foot on the ledge, Pinky immediately wrapped him in an enormous embrace and danced around with him while the poor aisam’s limbs flailed in a futile attempt to escape. “Thank you, Snowball! Thankyouthankyouthankyou! Narf!” Pinky squealed. “I will never forget this as long as I live!”

Brain pretended he was very, very focused on pulling the yarn until the cap was on the windowsill with them and ignored Snowball’s protests.

A bona fide Pinky hug was appropriate punishment for all the worry and stress Snowball had put him through for the past few days.

“Keep it up and you won’t have very long to live,” Snowball muttered once Pinky finally showed mercy and let him go.

Pinky just hummed and took the cap from Brain. “Everything’s perfect! Lemme set everything up for you!’ He skipped away, leaving Brain and Snowball alone.

“Snowball, you knew Pinky wanted a specific object,” Brain said over the incessant sounds of Pinky persuading Mr. Button to join everyone for the tea party, and it was a statement of fact. It wasn’t necessary to ask a question when he already knew the answer. “And you obtained that particular cap.”

Snowball shrugged. “I see the malfunction hasn’t dulled your keen observation skills, Brain.”

“Which suggests you were in the area. Why use a camera to spy on us? Why not come out yourself?” Brain asked.

He hadn’t known if Snowball was alive or dead. He chose to believe Snowball was alive, because if he could survive the empty, vast desert of New Selene, then surely he could survive a crash landing.

The alternative was unthinkable.

And Snowball didn’t care enough to alert Brain that he was-

No, that was ridiculous. There were simply extra factors at play. Limited communication range. Injuries to prioritize. 

There were more variables to the equation. That’s all.

“Don’t you remember, Brain?” Snowball tapped Brain’s head with one finger. Brain scowled and shoved him off. “We planned to use the cameras to scope the area around our landing site for safety reasons. I simply stuck to the plan, though neither of us anticipated our unfortunate separation.”

Brain looked away. He refused to admit Snowball’s point. He was already smug enough as it was. “You could’ve attached a message.”

“And allow a hostile party to intercept it? Communicate our intentions before we’re ready to carry out the plan? Come now, Brain. You’ve engineered a marvelous ship out of scrap. You shouldn’t let a freak accident scramble your neurons.”

Brain bristled at the insinuation of his intelligence dropping as a result of the accident. He’d only been temporarily disoriented.

A harsh scraping noise interrupted him before he could retort. On the other side of the counter, Pinky arranged six tiny stools around an upside-down bowl. Then he seated Nicholas the Nickel, Mr. Button, and a potted specimen of Terran flora that Brain assumed to be Madame Daisy. Pinky’s blue eyes sparkled with joy, a frilly white apron tied around his waist. He was completely oblivious to the tense atmosphere between Brain and Snowball.

“Hello, narf! So glad you could make it to the tea party!” Pinky exclaimed, shaking Brain’s hand vigorously. Brain had to clamp down on his arm to stop the shaking as Pinky subjected Snowball to the same treatment. “Don’t be shy now, I’ve got some lovely neighbors to introduce you to!”

Too stunned to speak, Brain and Snowball took their seats on the wooden stools. Nicholas—and celestial bodies above, now he was personifying inanimate objects like Pinky—was lying on top of the stool to his right, while Madame Daisy was on his left. Snowball was trying to compose himself on the other side of Madame Daisy, but he couldn’t hide the annoyed tapping of his claws against the bowl. Brain assumed the empty stool between Mr. Button and Nicholas was meant for Pinky, unless he planned to invite more ‘guests’. 

And Brain hoped there weren’t more. It was crowded enough already, even if only two beings at this table could stage an intelligent conversation.

He was mildly concerned at Pinky’s mental state. Surely naming inanimate objects couldn’t be conducive to one’s well-being.

“Nicholas and Mr. Button, I’m sure you already know Brain,” Pinky grinned. 

“We’re acquainted,” Brain muttered. “Unfortunately.” 

Pinky gleefully clapped his hands together. “Troz! Great, then you can help introduce them to Snowball! And Madame Daisy, did you do something with your leaves? They look so green and perky! Oh really, you think I could pull off Daisy Dukes? Stop that, you’re making me blush! Though I guess I do have the legs for it…”

He giggled, his cheeks coated in a light red blush.

“Yes, Brain. Why don’t you introduce me to your Terran friends?” Snowball grinned, casually leaning one elbow against the table.

“Fine,” Brain spat. “Nicholas. Mr. Button. This is Snowball. I believe you’ll find him particularly irksome.”

“Oh please, they already know you,” Snowball rolled his eyes.

“Madame Daisy, why don’t you tell them all the gossip you heard from the birds and the bees and flowers and the trees?” Pinky asked, kissing one of Madame Daisy’s leaves. “Now, now, Nicholas and Mr. Button, don’t fight in front of our visitors. Everything’s ready in the kitchen. I’ll bring it out to everyone in a jiffy! Brain, I’ll get you a hot thimble. Your last one’s all cold. Snowball, did you want anything extra with your tea?”

Snowball sighed. “A pinch of sanity, perhaps..”

“Double for me,” Brain added.

Pinky tilted his head. “Hmmm, I dunno if I have that brand, but I’ll look! Be right back!” 

“And I require my beverages either cold or room temperature,” Snowball added. “My species can’t have hot food or drink.”  

Pinky nodded eagerly. “One cold tea and five warm, coming up!” He skipped away, humming an upbeat tune under his breath. 

And Brain was once again alone with Snowball. Unlike Pinky, he refused to count the inanimate objects as sentient creatures. 

Pinky was an idiot at the best of times and a distraction at the worst. But he prioritized Brain over the hat he desired so badly. 

An action Brain dared to describe as...sweet. 

Then Snowball coughed, breaking the silence and Brain’s momentary lapse into sentimentality. “By any chance, have your broadcasts reached your target demographic?” Snowball asked, drumming his fingers on the makeshift table. “I’d hate for all that time you spent communicating our intentions with less than stellar technology to go to waste.” 

From the way Snowball’s lip curled at the very mention of the radio broadcasts, Brain knew he wasn’t asking out of courtesy. Most likely, he’d figured out that nobody on this planet except for one incredibly stupid specimen had heard Brain’s long distance communications. 

Nobody recognized the Conquistador, despite Brain giving detailed descriptions about his engineering pride and joy. He’d failed to garner the attention of the media when Terra was in a period of rapidly advancing technology. 

And most damning of all, no human had come to sing his praises, genuflect on bended knee, or bothered to host a welcome parade in his honor. They showed no concern that their new ruler had crash landed instead of making a grand and powerful entrance. 

But the sun would have to burn through the rest of its lifespan before Brain would ever admit it. 

“Your silence is answer enough, Brain.” Snowball shook his head in disappointment. “And here I’d hoped most of our work would be finished upon arrival. Sadly, it appears nobody listened to-” 

“Pinky listened,” Brain interrupted. 

Snowball gave him a look of mocking sympathy, and Brain pretended the engravings on Nicholas the Nickel were very intriguing. He hated that look. 

“Allow me to rephrase,” Snowball said. “It must be upsetting to find that nobody of importance listened to your broadcasts.” 

Pinky bandaged his injuries, tried to help locate Snowball in his own ridiculous way, and introduced him to the wonders of cream cheese. 

Those weren’t unimportant things. 

But at the same time, Pinky didn’t have the influence to help him ascend to the throne. 

“Cut to the point, Snowball,” Brain snapped. “Spare me the monologue.” 

Snowball shrugged. “Then tell me our current location.” 

“Read the sign yourself,” Brain retorted. Did Snowball believe he was so disoriented he couldn’t tell where he was? “It’s just above the front door. You can’t possibly miss it, unless you’ve somehow become illiterate during our period of separation.”

“Humor me.” 

Brain gritted his teeth. “A primitive Terran laboratory known as ACME. I haven’t discovered what the acronym stands for.” 

“Never mind the acronym.” Snowball dismissed the tangent with a flick of his hand. “As you observed, this is a laboratory. And do you know what they specialize in?” 

“I can do without the condescension,” Brain muttered.   

“Behavioral studies and genetics,” Snowball said as if Brain had answered properly. “Why else would that idiotic Terran be here? He’s the equivalent of a mos on New Selene. Approximately the same niche on the food chain and social hierarchy. Higher than parasites and bottom feeders, but not by much.” 

Well, Pinky had shown him the gene splicer which doubled as a bagel warmer. It wasn’t that much of a surprise. 

And it was a scientific wonder, even for a less advanced piece of machinery. But he had the suspicion that bagels weren’t the only things to go through that device. 

“Why bring Pinky into this?” Brain asked. 

“I’m only speaking out of concern for my associate,” Snowball replied. He stood up, kicking Madame Daisy’s stool out of the way as he marched over to Brain. The flower slid off the stool and fluttered to the floor. “Isn’t this setup enough proof for you, Brain? Having a useless tea party, surrounded by toys and drivel...why, if you’re not careful, you might end up just like...him.”

The him was spoken with such vehemence, it took Brain aback. 

Brain leaned away from Snowball, a shiver traveling up his spine. It wasn’t the usual chill he got from Snowball’s natural physiology. 

“I won’t end up like Pinky,” Brain said, as firmly as he could, which wasn’t as firm as he would’ve liked. “I’m his intellectual superior.”  

“Then act like it.” 

A claw jabbed the center of Brain’s chest. The jumpsuit’s insulation did nothing to protect him from the fine, icy tendrils that threatened to choke his heart. 

Snowball stood over him, narrow pink eyes boring into his own. Then Snowball went back to his own seat, scoffing at the flower which laid lifelessly near its stool. 

If it weren’t for the simple fact that Madame Daisy wasn’t sentient, Brain might’ve felt sorry for it.  Then he mentally kicked himself for that notion.

He was an intelligent being. Plants don’t talk or have feelings. 

Snowball was watching him. So Brain remained in his seat. 

Then Pinky came back, oblivious to what transpired among his guests while he was away. There was a skip in his step as he balanced three trays, one in each hand and the third resting on his head. His balance and upper strength were impeccable. 

“Narf! Sorry for the delay!” Pinky chirped as he set the trays on the bowl and passed the thimbles around, taking great care to ensure the cold tea went to Snowball. “I was looking for sanity, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. Not among the spices, the cupboards, or in that moldy ham sandwich they keep forgetting to toss out. So I just stirred in a spoonful of honey with a generous sprinkling of lemon for...oh, Madame Daisy! Are you alright?” 

Pinky quickly set the last thimble at his place and rushed over to Madame Daisy, gently cradling the stem in his hands as he set her on the stool. He waited a moment, then wiped his brow in relief. “Phew, I’m glad to hear it! Anyway, drink up! I’ll join you lovely folks after I grab the cheesecake.” 

Brain sniffed his tea as Pinky took the trays and ran back to wherever he came from. The thimble was pleasantly warm under Brain’s fingers, a scented trail of steam rising from the golden liquid inside. It was an oddly relaxing scent. 

He picked up the thimble and took a tiny sip of his drink. And once again, Pinky had shown that he was full of surprises. The tea was warm, yet not scalding. Slightly sour, with a tinge of sweetness.

Snowball was entirely focused on his own drink. He didn’t give any outward signs of enjoying or disliking it though. Just as always, he was poised and controlled. Every movement calculated, no thought wasted. 

Brain tried to replicate that level of control many times. But he’d never been able to figure out how to stop his ears from giving away his emotions. 

A few minutes later, Pinky returned with the promised cheesecake in tow. Once again, he balanced one tray in each hand and the other on his head, carefully setting them on the table without dropping a single plate. 

There were two plates on each tray, each one containing a triangular pile of cream cheese. There was a brown, crumbly coating on the back and underneath the cream cheese. A spiral of white fluff rested on top of the cheesecake, and within that fluff was a bright red fruit with tiny seeds dotting its surface. A tiny fork laid on the side of each plate. 

“Bon appetit!” Pinky grinned as he passed the plates of cheesecake around. Snowball gave Pinky a curt nod and accepted his plate. “I call it no-bake cheesecake! It’s a family recipe. My mom passed it down to me, and she got it from her mom, who got it from her mom, and she-well, you get the idea. What you’ve got there is cream cheese at room temperature, laid on a bed of crushed graham crackers for that nice, crumbly texture. And I added a little whipped cream, topped with a juicy strawberry because everyone knows strawberries with cheesecake are absolutely delish!” 

Pinky set Brain’s plate down, fussed over Mr. Button, who was apparently not sitting properly on his stool. Then Pinky finally sat down at the table with everyone else and began to chow down. He scooped as much cream cheese as he could fit on his fork and jammed it into his mouth, humming in delight. 

Brain was struck with an odd urge to forgo the fork entirely and stuff his face with little regard for table manners or dignity. Logic and intellectualism didn’t hold a candle to the sheer heaven that was cream cheese. 

He could feel Snowball’s eyes on him though. 

And he forced himself to take small bites. 

Pinky talked about everything and nothing between mouthfuls of cheesecake and tea. While Brain’s mind was well-equipped to handle large floods of information, the topics Pinky pursued were completely beyond his understanding. Even Snowball’s impeccable control was being pushed to its limit, judging from the eye twitch he’d suddenly developed. 

“Troz! I’m sorry I never noticed your new polish, Nicholas! Very shiny!” Pinky smiled, his tail swishing happily behind him. “Mr. Button, have you tried vinegar and baking soda to get that stain out? No? Oh, well I use it all the time for my cage, and it really works. No problem! Egad, Madame Daisy, your son’s gonna marry the potted geranium? I always knew he had a thing for her!” 

Perhaps Snowball’s concerns about teaming up with Pinky weren’t completely unfounded. 

Brain was halfway through with his cheesecake when Snowball tapped his fork against his plate repeatedly, interrupting Pinky’s futile efforts to bring Brain into a conversation with Mr. Button. Brain sipped his tea to disguise his gratitude. He had no wish to debate philosophy with a button.   

“This has all been quite...enlightening,” Snowball said. He put his fork down and pushed his half-eaten cheesecake away. “But I didn’t make this trip just for a first meeting or reunion. Rather, I came with a purpose and opportunity in mind.”  

Of course. Snowball never did anything without purpose. 

But Brain found it hard to ignore the lack of general inquiries into his well-being. Even so, he pushed the rising bitterness down. If Snowball had found an opportunity to take over the world despite all the setbacks, then Brain was going to hear this out. 

“You went to the mall earlier today,” Snowball continued. Another statement of fact, not a question. 

“Yes, we did!” Pinky exclaimed. “We ate burgers and sang karaoke and played on a boat-” 

Snowball cleared his throat to stop Pinky before he strayed too far from the topic at hand. “The day before, I’d staked the mall as an area of interest due to its popularity among Terrans. While I wasn’t expecting to see you on my camera there, Brain, I decided to satisfy my curiosity and follow you. And during your excursion, you ran into a gentleman named Joe Lamont.”

“He was anything but gentle,” Brain muttered, recalling the cruel man’s shoe digging into his antennae and his total helplessness. And now he had the knowledge that Snowball bore witness to that incident. 

“And he was mean!” Pinky added. “The meaniest meanie who ever meaned!” 

Snowball’s eye twitched. “While Lamont’s actions were that of a brute, I assure you I did not mention him just to garner a reaction from you.” 

“So why mention him at all?” Brain snapped. 

“If I may continue without further disruption?” Snowball’s tone was carefully measured, barely concealing his impatience. “Now, I was able to guide the Conquistador’s front safely to the ground after the malfunction. From there, I sent many cameras to scout the area. Some to search for Brain, others to collect intel on the Terrans. And I noticed there was one figure in this city that everyone feared greatly. His vehicle is a common sight, given that at least five cameras I assigned to different areas had spotted him, and nobody dares to double-cross him.” 

“We’ve heard similar,” Brain said.

The worker who’d admonished him after the attack wasn’t the only one who was afraid of Lamont, it seemed. 

“Lamont is an influential figure,” Snowball continued. “So it’s prudent that we attend the elite party he’ll throw at his manor in two weeks.” 

Pinky’s hands flew to his cheeks. “A party?” he gasped. “Narrrrrf!” 

Brain glared at him. “Why would you ever want to attend a party thrown by this brute?” 

“But it’s a party, Brain!” Pinky protested. “It’ll be fun!” 

There was no way he was attending a party. The fact that it was thrown by that uncultured brute of a man was the least of his worries. 

No, instead he would be paraded around and meant to socialize…

He shuddered at the very thought. 

“Pinky, would you mind fetching the cap I gave you?” Snowball asked. 

Pinky immediately scampered off, still tittering about the party, and Brain nearly dragged him back by the tail to force him to stay put. 

“You may not be one for small talk, Brain,” Snowball said. “But several members of Lamont’s security detail mentioned that he possessed a powerful military weapon within range of my camera’s audio. Attending the party is necessary to gaining access to that weapon! Isn’t a little discomfort worth the world in the end?” 

He could put up with some momentary discomfort, but…

“And just what are you intending to do with that military weapon?” Brain asked. There was something in Snowball’s tone he didn’t like. 

Something foreign and out of place. 

“What else would I use it for other than world domination? And don’t speak so loud!” Snowball hissed, slapping a hand over Brain’s mouth and looking over his head to make sure Pinky wasn’t coming back just yet. “That idiot won’t keep his mouth shut if he knew. It’s imperative for you to not mention that weapon!” 

Brain wasn’t worried about Pinky blabbing. Instead, he got the feeling that Pinky would have something to say about using powerful weaponry to subjugate the populace. 

Not that he was wholly comfortable with this plot either. But a little discomfort now would be worth the world later. 

“Very well. We shall spend the next two weeks preparing for the party,” Brain said, pulling away from Snowball. “In addition to gathering more intel, of course.” 

Two minutes later, Pinky came back, dragging the cap behind him and bouncing with glee. “Oh, I can’t wait for the party! Say, do you think there’ll be a chocolate fountain? I love chocolate fountains! Especially when they make you all gooey!” 

Chocolate fountains didn’t sound particularly appealing when he put it that way.  

Snowball flipped the cap over, revealing a small card attached to the inside. Then he tore it off and handed it to Brain with a flourish of his hand. 

“Don’t show off,” Brain grumbled as he ripped it out of Snowball’s hand. Pinky read the card over his shoulder, growing more excited by the minute as he read the card. 

Dear Mr and Mrs Clarke,

RSVP by 4/27 to 707-231-0009

Masquerade Ball at Lamont Manor 

Event begins at 8:00 pm 

Present this card to security at front gate upon entry 

If Pinky was excited before, he was bouncing off the walls now. So the card contained all the information they needed to know. It wasn’t terribly exciting news. Just informative. 

“It’s a masquerade ball!” Pinky squealed. Brain tried to dodge, but Pinky was just too fast for him. His legs kicked feebly in the air as Pinky danced around in circles, towing Brain like a ragdoll. “We get to be extra fancy and wear masks and nobody will know who we are!” 

Well, that was one consolation if he got to hide behind a mask for this event. He broke out of Pinky’s hold, and took another bite of cheesecake to calm down. Having the creamy flavor in his mouth helped slightly. 

“I already have my alias and invitation. Who knows? You might find this experience rather educational,” Snowball explained. He moved over to the table and downed the last of his drink. “Well, this was an interesting night. I’d love to stay and indulge your need for company, but I’ll be taking my leave now. Data isn’t going to analyze itself.” 

He’s leaving already?

Snowball walked over to the window, preparing to climb down by using the yarn they’d left tied to the latch. 

“Wait!” Brain said, bits of cream cheese and strawberry spraying out of his mouth. His ears flattened in embarrassment as he hastily swallowed. “You can’t be leaving already!” 

The rusuprhi! In the light of all the information that had been thrust upon him, he’d completely forgotten to split the remaining bag with Snowball!

Snowball raised an eyebrow, and Brain cursed himself for sounding so desperate. 

“Pardon me for not wishing to be a slave to the dominant species again,” Snowball said. “And I’m far more efficient with my tasks when I’m alone. You want accurate intel, don’t you, Brain?” 

“Yes, although-” 

But Snowball was already gone. 

Again. 

Brain stood on the windowsill, clutching the card Snowball had left behind. New Selene hung in the sky above him, no bigger than his finger. The faraway stars twinkled. 

He didn’t want to be out here anymore. Slowly, he trudged to the bed in the cage, dropping the card and not caring what happened to it. Let Pinky take care of it since he was so eager for this party. 

He ignored Pinky asking if he was going to finish his food and pulled the blanket over himself, unable to summon the strength to thank Pinky for the excellent tea and cheesecake. 

Snowball had left again. And he didn’t know why. 

AN: Poor Brain. Starts the chapter sad, gets hopeful, then gets the rug yanked out from under him. 

Also since neither Brain nor Snowball are gonna say this, thank you Pinky for working so hard to be a good host for your tea party.  

[starstruckpurple]

Long post ahead. I will make cookies for people who read this. 🍪 (a single cookie emoji). TW: food, depictions of slight psychological abuse. TL;DR is at the bottom in red.

I have major sensory issues around literally all of the fruits and a small percentage of vegetables (such as eggplants, brussel sprouts, broccolis, peppers, that's all I can remember for now). I'm fat and I have to lose weight because I feel like it has started affecting my physical, mental and emotional health.

Sometime in the future I'll go to a dietician, I'm sure they will give me a list including fruits (because duh), I'll specifically tell them I have sensory issues around certain foods. But I don't think I can avoid eating some of them.

Almost all of my life I felt extreme guilt for making my family go through my "picky eating". My relatives would talk about my not eating any fruits, when I was with them, making me smell all that fruit bowls while they were eating (I had to be there), as you can guess it was an extreme sensory hell for my autistic ass. Some of my core memories were their talking about me, forcing me to bite a banana while my dad was shouting at me for not eating and having a panic attack, later shutting down, over a banana, making me drink carrot and apple juice in exchange for letting me buy a collection of my favourite toys— In short, I can clearly say that I cannot remember a single memory in which I didn't feel any shame, guilt, anxiety concerning fruits. For ten years I didn't and couldn't eat any raw fruits, artificial flavours (juices, candies, snacks etc) were fine though. But as soon as I see that apple, biting it, all that nasty juices, all that smell and weird flavours made me gag. I could eat apple pies fine, I could eat dried grapes (although I'm not a fan of it) but the raw fruit? Get that away from me. There's this fruit spectrum installed in my brain, I can't get rid of it. For some fruits, I couldn't tolerate their smells. For some of them, I couldn't tolerate sounds they made when being eaten. For some of them it's their taste. With some of them, I had a very toxic relationship (such as carrots and bananas, because, duh, trauma). I'm sure you can relate to this.

My mother has suffered my autism, my sensory problems so much that when I mention her about my not eating any fruits, even if I want to communicate and explain myself, she immediately says she's fed up with this, and wants me to stop talking about it as it makes her sad. I don't want to make her sad but I can't help it. Generally my family says that "It's just a fruit, not a poison", back then I would try explaining them that it does feel like a poison to me, I don't explain anything anymore because I have realised that they will never be able to understand my experience, or how my brain interprets fruits in general, and it's not their fault that they will not be able to understand. Its been approximately two years that I have started making peace with my past self, that part of me saying "If only my parents listened me, if only they tried to understand, if only they didn't force me or belittle me...", lots of 'if only's. I have survived. I was able to get my head out of those deep, dark waters solely by my own inner strength. I have realised even though I am glad to be the daughter of my parents, even though I love them so much, only I could truly parent myself.

This realisation was extremely isolating and freeing. If I really need to separate myself from my own body, pierce my soul into two, mold a mother out of that broken glass; if I really need to take care of myself by myself (something I couldn't do, a mindset I didn't have in the first sixteen years of my life), I need to be kind to my inner child too, at the same time. But I don't know where to start. I know, yet I do not. How does one start eating fruits? I have just been born. I know nothing.

For those who love eating fruits but have sensory sensitivity around a different group of food, can you please share tips about how to eat fruits? I have major sensory issues around literally all of the fruits. I want to at least tolerate some of them for short periods of time. Don't worry about me though, I will make sure that I will get enough self care, self love, so much support. Do not hesitate sending me a message to help. I will be forever glad, I'm a magician, I will forever be whispering your name when I'm doing a good spell.

This post was such a heavy burden to write, I may add some other things later. To be continued.

Thank you for all if you read every single word. I feel vulnerable, but even being vulnerable has so much strength in it. It feels good to open my heart completely.

[lykegenia]

Nate x f!detective

--

I barely have time to draw breath before three figures stumble to a halt in the broken doorway, the rest of Unit Bravo drawn clearly from other parts of the warehouse, their postures tense and alert for danger.

Adam steps forward first, his gaze sweeping in a calculated arc over the room. “What happened?”

“We smelled –”

“Someone needs to go and check on Nate,” I interrupt.

There’s a heartbeat’s pause where confusion reigns. Mason is the first to respond, swiping the unlit cigarette from between his teeth with a muttered curse as he whirls away out of sight. It leaves only Adam and Felix to stare at me, and both keep their distance, the frown on the commanding agent’s face sharp enough to cut glass.

“Detective?” he asks.

“It was an accident,” I explain, swallowing. “I cut myself, just my finger.”

“You ought to have paid more attention –”

“Jesus Christ, Adam, this is not the time.” I twist around to face him properly, hand aching under the stream of cold water, and once more the rational part of my brain steps aside to marvel at the ease with which I take control of the situation. As if this is just another crime scene, as if my heart isn’t thundering in my ears lie Niargra Falls. “I need you to switch off the oven and fetch me a med kit.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Felix asks from even further away, golden eyes hopeful.

I force a smile to my face. “I’m fine, really. But thank you.”

Adam returns from the far corner of the room a moment later and sets down the first aid kit and a roll of kitchen paper at my elbow.

“We’ll leave you to it,” he says with a terse nod.

“Thanks.”

“There is blood on your sleeve,” he adds. “You should soak it as soon as you can.”

He turns away as I twist my arm trying to catch sight of the supposed bloodstain, not daring to take my hand from under the tap until the two vampires have left the room. When I eventually hold the lacerated finger up for inspection I sigh at the look of the wound. The cold has turned the whole digit bloodless, and while the cut itself is pretty deep the sharpness of the knife worked in my favour and it shouldn’t need stitches.

I pat it dry with a few squares of paper towel, careful to avoid splitting it open again, then rummage one-handed in the first aid kit for the antiseptic and a box of plasters. The sting of the concentrated alcohol draws a hiss from me as I pour it over the wound, but the whole process of cleaning and wrapping up the finger is over in less than a minute, with only the clinical smell left hanging in the air. After a moment of consideration, I fish an extra plaster out of the box and add it to the first so it stays extra secure.

That done, my attention can finally turn to the mess of dinner abandoned on the other side of the kitchen. The tray of vegetables I pull from the oven is still half-raw, the potatoes overboiled and almost mush after I drain away the water from the pan. I make sure there’s no blood on the duck breasts before wrapping them back in their brown paper to go back in the fridge. I wash the knife, and I wash the chopping board, as well as I can one-handed. For the rest, it takes me a long poke about in the cupboards – because of course Nate doesn’t own any Tupperware – before I can transfer everything into containers. Most of it probably won’t taste all that good if it has to be cooked again, but making the choice to throw it away without Nate’s input feels… wrong. Even if what I really want is to throw the whole lot at the walls.  

Either way, my appetite is completely gone. In its place, a sick feeling worms through my stomach, part worry for him and part relief that what happened wasn’t worse. The look in his eyes keeps surfacing, drawing me back, distracting me to the point where I realise the CD of overtures finished playing ages ago, unnoticed. Now that I hear it, the silence presses on me like a stone.

I leave the washing up in the sink.

No one stops me in the labyrinthine passages to my room. The silence follows and grows larger as I strip out of my jumper and toss it into the bathroom before pulling a new one from the drawer. The stain on the sleeve is only small and should come out easily enough once I soak it, but I’ll have to take it back to my apartment to wash it properly. At least the blood soaked into the fabric instead of dripping onto Nate’s hand. His reaction was bad enough already.

Once thoughts of him break through, there’s no stopping the flood. A glance around the bedroom shows just how much empty space there is, and I shiver. The wash of loneliness threatening to swallow me is one that wouldn’t have bothered me before Unit Bravo came into my life, before I got used to the comfort Nate provides just with his presence. Right about now I should be enjoying an intimate dinner and quiet conversation, his warmth at my side after the week of paperwork that’s kept us apart. Instead, there’s just me, and the hollow sound of my breath. Hard to believe I ever thought that was enough.

A text comes through from Felix as I dry my hands.

              You ok? Nate wanted you know if you’re ok too

              I’m fine  ☺️ Where is he?

              In his room, he’s pretty shaken

              I’m going to go talk to him

He starts typing a reply, but I don’t wait for it. The path to Nate’s room is so familiar I could walk it in my sleep – and nearly have, more than once, creeping from my own bed in the middle of the night with only a little guilt that I might be interrupting his own rest. Getting used to another body was difficult at first, but sleeping with someone else next to me, at least when it’s him, feels better than I ever thought it would, even if Mason keeps teasing that we’re not making the most of the situation.

I swallow as I knock on his door. “Nate?”

There’s no answer. Despite the bubble of disappointment in my chest, I wasn’t really expecting one.

“I wanted to see if you were alright.” Though my ears strain in the quiet hallway, I can’t hear any sign of movement. I sigh. “Look, you don’t have to come out, or say anything. I guess if you’re not listening it’s not like there’s anyone else here to listen to me talking to a door like a crazy person either.”

The attempt at humour falls apart, and a deep breath pulls through my teeth to keep the prickle of heat in my eyes at bay.

“I’m alright, Nate. It wasn’t your fault, just an accident. Please don’t guilt yourself about it too much – I know you’ll try to. I’m…” I falter, my thumb running over my plastered finger. “I’m going to go home. I’ve got laundry to do and an early start in the morning, and it’s probably better if I go.”

Tension is running through the halls like a vibration, all the vampires kicked up by the unexpected smell of blood even if they don’t want to admit it, and I don’t want them to see how unsettled it’s made me in turn. The nightmares of Murphy have faded over the past few months, but I can feel them crawling in the black mud of my subconscious, waiting to surface, and I don’t want to be near Nate when they do. I’ve handled them well enough on my own in the past.

There’s still no sound from Nate’s room that my pathetic human ears can pick up.

“If you need anything, call me,” I say, with a last moment of hesitation before I turn away.

There’s not much to pack. I’ve got a permanent drawer here now, and a second toothbrush so I don’t need to remember it back and forth. I’m ready to go in minutes. In one movement I pluck my car keys from the bowl by the door and flick off the light, and I don’t look back.

[starmxras]

The Bet | A Steve / Peggy oneshot

"I wonder how long we could stay in bed," Peggy muses.

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Well, we could-"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Steve. That's the opposite of being lazy," Peggy huffs. "All I mean is, when else are we going to have an entire week off to just... vegetable around? We're both off work 'til January second, and we probably won't have an opportunity like this after the baby."

"Okay, okay, so is this like...a bet?"

Peggy shrugs, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Depends if you're ready to lose, Darling."

story under the cut!

Dec 25th, 1950

Steve and Peggy come home from Howard's Christmas party early.

"I'm starved," Peggy mutters, looking through the fridge. "Ever since I've been pregnant, I can't eat anything I enjoy anymore. Last night, I woke up and started eating your chocolate because I was that desperate; I hate American chocolate!"

Steve winces. "That bad, huh?"

"I can't even enjoy food anymore." She replies, munching on a Hershey's bar. "Like this - this is just disgusting, but it's one of the only things I can keep down lately. It tastes like raw cocoa."

"I don't know how you can stand eating British chocolate. It tastes like pure sugar."

"Yes, and it's delicious," Peggy says with a dreamy sigh. "All I've been eating lately is bread and chocolate. I vomit up anything else. I'm going to get so fat."

"Your body's probably trying to adjust itself. I'm sure you can go back to British chocolate soon." Steve says in an attempt to be reassuring.

"I hope," Peggy replies. "I don't know if I can stand eating only bread and chocolate."

Steve plops down on the couch. "So what are we doing tomorrow?"

Peggy shrugs. "I suppose this coming week would be a good time as any to be unproductive. Think about it, this time next Christmas, we'll have a baby. No more lazy mornings for a while, I bet."

"Fair point," Steve responds.

"I wonder how long we could stay in bed," Peggy muses.

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Well, we could-"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Steve. That's the opposite of being lazy," Peggy huffs. "All I mean is, when else are we going to have an entire week off to just... vegetable around? We're both off work 'til January second, and we probably won't have an opportunity like this after the baby."

"Okay, okay, so is this like...a bet?"

Peggy shrugs, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Depends if you're ready to lose, Darling."

"Okay, so what does the loser have to do?" Steve asks.

"The loser has to...make dinner for a week."

"Deal."

Dec 26th, 1950

Peggy wakes up first, just before nine in the morning.

She shakes Steve awake. "Wake up, you need to keep me company."

"Company how?"

"...tell me about the future," Peggy says, resting her head on Steve's chest. "What's it like?"

"Okay, gimme a second to...think. What do you want to know?"

"Tell me about Mj-Mjol- your hammer. Does everyone have one in the future?"

"No, I got it from Thor. He's from Asgard, remember? I wonder what he's doing right now."

"We won't see him until the 21st century, correct?" Peggy asks.

"Right. Loki's probably trying to kill him right now or something."

Peggy tilts her head.

"The guy who invaded New York. He was a horrible person, but Thor was really shaken up when he died."

"Oh," Peggy says. "It's too bright in here. Close the curtain,"

"It is closed, Peg."

Peggy grimaces, burying her face in the pillow. "That hammer can change the weather. Get rid of the snow."

"...That's not what the hammer does. It only controls lightning."

"How silly of me," Peggy rolls her eyes. "Somehow, with everything you've told me about the future, a lightning summoning hammer is most definitely one of the most bizarre."

"Even more bizarre than wireless telephones that are mostly used to play games on the toilet?"

"...Well, no, that's pretty strange. But no, not the weirdest."

"Oh, well is it the fact that some homicidal warlord destroyed half of all life in the universe?"

"That's definitely very strange, if not completely insane. I mean, well..." Peggy stops, thinking. "This is probably the strangest part of the future you've spoken of to me. But it's not the weirdest. The weirdest is probably-"

Peggy's throat tightens, suddenly. She tries to speak again, to say what the weirdest thing is but finds herself unable to say anything. She can't think, either. A wave of nausea rushes, and she finds herself making her way to the bathroom.

She just barely makes it to the bathroom in time, and Steve, being the darling he is, holds back her hair as she vomits.

"You okay?" Steve asks once she's done, clearly concerned.

Peggy shakes her head.

"It was...intense," she murmurs. "I'm not feeling well."

"Maybe your body's just adjusting to having a baby," Steve offers.

"Maybe," Peggy says, feeling very sick. "I hoped I would've been one of those women that miraculously avoided morning sickness."

Peggy grimaces, wrapping her arms around her stomach. "This doesn't count for our bet. I'm going right back to being lazy right after I brush my teeth, I assure you."

They make it back to their bed and begin sitting in comfortable silence.

"You sure you're okay?" Steve murmurs, trailing fingers through her hair.

"I feel a lot better now, yes. Of course, that doesn't mean I'm leaving this bed. I'm winning our bet."

"One of us will have to get up to eat something soon," Steve points out.

"I'm way ahead of you, Steve." Peggy opens the drawer on her nightstand, revealing a few chocolate bars stashed there. "If you're nice, perhaps I'll lend you one."

"Those are mine in the first place," Steve huffs.

"And? Are you suggesting you'd steal food from your pregnant wife?"

"...No," Steve mumbles.

"That's what I thought," Peggy replies with a self-satisfied smile.

She unwraps a chocolate bar, taking a bite. "Hmm, disgustingly delicious."

"If it's so disgusting, why do you bother?" Steve asks, stifling a laugh.

"Don't judge me, Steven. If I recall correctly, it was your fault I'm pregnant. You could at least indulge me."

Steve raises his hands in mock-defeat. "Okay, sorry." He presses a kiss to her temple.

Peggy hums. "We need something to do if we're going to lie around in bed all day."

"Well..."

"No."

"You didn't even hear me out. I was gonna say we should build a pillow fort." Steve says, defensively.

"A...pillow...fort?" Peggy asks. "Isn't that something children do?"

"Nope, I'm serious. It'll be fun. We can use blankets, pillows, whatever."

She sighs. "Fine. How do we do it?"

"Now remember, I was the one who suggested it, so you have to help me."

"Fair enough, as long as I don't have to move around too much," she says with a wry smile.

"Yeah, but it'll be worth it in the end," Steve counters. "This is a serious endeavor."

"Yes yes, well, I'm gonna build the pillow fort," Peggy says, snatching the blanket from the bed. "The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can cuddle."

After a somewhat complicated process, the fort is made.

"All right," Steve says, holding the last square of the fort together with the last pillow. "Now it's done. Don't you think it looks...really ugly?"

"It looks better from the inside," Peggy remarks. "How long do you think it'll last?"

Steve shrugs. "Here, I'll test it."

"How long can we stay in here, before we overheat?" Steve asks.

Peggy looks up at the ceiling as if it holds all the answers. "I think a few hours is safe. We have to nap at some point, right? Then when we're too hot, we can take it down."

"Right," Steve says, giving Peggy a little nudge towards the bed.  

"Fine," Peggy says, shuffling over so she's lying down. Steve does the same. "...Well, here goes nothing," Peggy says, settling herself down onto the pillows.

"I suppose I should take a nap, too."

"You should, Steve," Peggy says, patting the spot next to her. "I'm in need of some cuddling. It's very cozy in here, not to mention."

Steve laughs, sliding up next to her. "Well, of course, I intend to be a good husband and cuddle up with you."

"I'll give you cuddling, but only as a reward for making this pillow fort."

"Alright."

Peggy curls into his arms, stretching her legs across his lap. He laughs, giving her a mock glare as he begins to tickle her feet.  

"Why you little..."

Laughing herself, Peggy attempts to tickle him in return. He retaliates by tickling her sides.

Peggy manages to pull up her legs, kicking Steve in the stomach. She laughs, putting her arm around him. "Now...that's a nice reward."

"Well...I still feel like I should be doing something. It doesn't feel natural to be this unproductive."

"Oh, we've got plenty of time to do something, Steve," Peggy says, brushing a kiss to his lips. "After all, we deserve to laze around every once in a while."

Steve smiles down at his wife. "Well, yeah, I suppose."

Minutes pass, and the couple talks about nothing in particular.

"Steve," Peggy says, interrupting him. "I'm getting sleepy again."

"Yeah, me too," Steve whispers, nuzzling her hair.

"Let's go to sleep, please," Peggy says. "I'm sleepy."

Steve laughs, running a hand through her hair. "Okay, okay."

"I love you, Steve," Peggy murmurs, snuggling against his chest.

Steve kisses her forehead. "Love you too, Peg."

He pulls Peggy closer to him, and together they drift off to sleep.

[aforrestofstuff]

I'd like to know if you have any cooking skills headcanons!! Like, from who's able to make a absolute meal to who burns microwaved instant noodles.

I’ve done a few individual headcanons about cooking before, but I think it’s time for a refresher. You could call this... the main course.

Okay, enough of that bullshit. Here’s the hcs. Thanks for your ask, anon! ❤️❤️💞

Disclaimer: this shit is crack as fuck because I have very strong feelings about cooking lmfao. FOH don’t interact.

Tornado of Terror: She’d find a way to burn ice cream, honestly. She tries so hard (by god she tries) but her meals always come out as a convoluted mess with ingredients that have no reason being together. She eats her steaks well done and boils hamburgers. It’s a nightmare. She doesn’t really spend too much time in the kitchen, however, because she knows she sucks at cooking and because of this, makes 90% of her diet consist of takeout. But if she did spend more of her day cooking, she’d probably discover the recipe to meth accidentally. It’s that bad.

Silverfang: Stubborn old grandpa way of cooking. He’s got a handful of recipes that have been passed down for generations and he’s gonna carry those fuckers to his grave. When Garou was living at the dojo, the little bastard would try to make some changes to these recipes and Bang had to will every molecule in his arthritis-riddled body to not RKO this kid (not really, Bang wouldn’t hurt a fly). But I digress. He’s a decent cook, knows all the fundamentals and all of that shit.

Atomic Samurai: Can’t cook or bake for shit although he, of course, talks himself up like he can. The extent of his cooking knowledge is only within the realm of “shit you can roast over a campfire when your cheap ass can’t scrape together enough coin to pay the electricity bill”. But now that he’s got that S-Class paycheck and three other disciples to freeload off of, they pretty much cater to his every food-related need. He’s useless in the kitchen. Utterly fucking useless.

Child Emperor: Doesn’t know how to cook (little bastard ain’t even tall enough to reach the stove imo) but luckily he’s got that PHAT BRAIN so he can easily just build a Gordon Ramsey bot 3000 to replace his incompetence in the kitchen. His diet consists of Dino nuggets and microwaveable noodles so it’s not like he’s doing the world a great disservice by not learning how to cook properly.

Metal Knight: Same as Child Emperor except he’s a rich bastard and programs his bots to make that fancy shit with only the finest ingredients. He’s got enough cash from doing black market tech trades and building up his robo-army that this motherfucker could snort caviar for fun. He’s a real pompous asshole about it.

King: His mom taught him to cook a few things, nothing serious. He’s one of those dudes that doesn’t really know how to make much, but the few dishes that he does know how to cook are fucking BOMB. He’s got a cast iron skillet for making pancakes and everything, bitch is already halfway to being a chef himself. Other than that, however, he’s a ramen monster. His blood is practically pre-packaged bone broth.

Zombieman: I’ve said this in a previous hc but he’s a damn good cook. One problem though: he only knows how to make single servings of everything because he eats alone almost all the time. He specializes in meats. Bitch is a carnivore. He bought himself a set of those 500-dollar butcher knives so he can carve up cuts like a monster. He hemorrhages cash into fancy wood chips so he can get that smoky flavor juuuuust right. He’s got an Outdoor Chef setup on his patio. My mans is living the DREAM.

Drive Knight: He can eat but does he really need to? His cooking expertise is popping a new battery in. There you go.

Pig God: Oh my god if this man’s kitchen isn’t Michelin-Star quality. He eats a lot and he cooks a lot, it’s only natural. He’s got an indoor grill and pot chandelier and buys industrial-sized buckets of pickles and roast beef by the cow and— okay he just has a lot of food, alright? And he’s got that PHAT S-Class paycheck so my boy probably has a whole walk-in fridge just to put all the fucking food he eats. Bonus points if he hires a dishboy to work and a contractor to implement a three-sink dish station with “Clean-Rinse-Sanitize” stickers slapped on the steel, lol. But yeah, he cooks for 500 people at a time because he eats enough for 500 people at a time. Gotta maintain that figure, you know what I’m saying?

Superalloy Darkshine: He has. Oh my god— he has a full shelf dedicated to just. DOZENS OF JARS of whey protein. He has two blenders: one for fruit smoothies and one for protein shakes. His kitchen? Spotless. He knows how to cook and he eats like a bodybuilder (because he is one, duh) so he’s got that fridge STOCKED at all times. He cleans like he’s getting paid for it because nothing feels better than wiping down a gas stove until that bitch is spotless. However, his taste is garbage. He can throw down in the kitchen but does it taste good? No. Sometimes the ultra-healthy alternative to something isn’t always the greatest. He’s grown accustomed to putting zucchini in his cakes and almost damn well likes the texture of it, but don’t invite this guy to the potluck because he WILL show up with a vegetable nightmare that’s sure to make even vegans gag. Sorry bud, but nobody likes soy bacon.

Watchdog Man: furry ass.

Flashy Flash: I’ve said this before in a previous hc, but he’s pescatarian. He grew up on a coastal town before being sold of to the ninja village like a goddamned carpet and now fish is the only meat he eats. His cooking ability is about as good as one would expect from a homesless ninja. Like Atomic Samurai, he can throw it down over the campfire and still find a way to make a decent dish (in both presentation and taste) despite having limited knowledge and resources to work with. Bitch can whip up a five-star meal with some branches, a fish, and half a carrot like it was second nature. That’s about it though. He’s useless in an actual kitchen.

Genos: It’s canon. He’s a housewife. He only knows how to make the select few dishes that play an integral part in Saitama’s diet, though (because Genos can eat but he doesn’t really need to, so he only does it when he and Saitama are sharing a meal). Those dishes include things like: actual garbage. He cooks shit food. It’s not his fault. Saitama just eats like a fucking twat. There’s rats that live in the dumpster outside the restaurant I work in that have a better diet than him. Genos just works with what the poor bastard’s got and has gained a pretty mediocre grasp on cooking because of it. If he wanted to, though, he could easily be the best chef in all the land. Too bad he’s more focused on being an ultra-powerful speed demon.

Metal Bat: Tries his absolute best to cook healthy meals for him and Zenko when he almost always resorts to just popping a frozen pizza in the oven and calling it a day. I’ve said this before in a previous hc, but he eats his shit BURNT. Bitch like his steak well done, his yolks grey, and his chicken vaporized. The only exception to this is sushi because there really is no other way to enjoy it other than having it raw. Trust me, though. If there was a way to burn the fuck out of sashimi while still having it be sashimi, he’d find a way to do it and like it. But yeah, as I said: he sucks ass at cooking. He’s tried the tutorials, he’s bought the skillets, he’s sharpened the knives, but he just can’t fucking do it.

Tanktop Master: Same as Superalloy. They bond over gross-ass ultra-healthy recipes that only they enjoy. The Tanktop Gang loves him but they always kindly refuse to eat over at his house because they know he’s gonna try to make them ingest a broccoli loaf or some shit. He’s not too strict about his diet, though. He’ll chill out and have a pizza every once and a while, but only when he’s hanging out with the homies.

Puri-Puri Prisoner: He has a job in prison where he helps out in the kitchen for seventy-five cents an hour, but that’s about the extent of it. He’s got the bare basics down and could put together a decent meal for date night if he really tried (and had a damn kitchen to work with). On top of that, he can throw down some tasty prison food recipes, hand-crafted from the brick box itself. Ramen pad Thai, anyone?

Amai Mask: he’s rich as fuck, why does he need to cook? Bitch hired a chef and now all he does it drink skim milk and eat food from the top shelf. He couldn’t fry an egg if his life depended on it. Poor bastard doesn’t even know what a whisk is. And don’t even get me started on how much of a slob he is. The ten-minute process of making a single plate of spaghetti will have his kitchen in such a disgusting state that it’ll take him and a trusty Mister Clean Magic Eraser five hours just to clean it up. That is, if he even has the basic human decency to pick up after himself. He’ll probably just hire someone to do for him and then tip them a crisp 100-dollar bill for their troubles, only to make an even worse mess tomorrow.

Iaian: I’ve said this before in a previous hc, but yes: he can cook. It’s nothing special. He’s got a suburban dad sense of cooking where he, like King, can only make a select few dishes but makes those dishes taste magical. He’s got 0 utensils and shit kitchen to work with (because Kami’s place is probably like, centuries old on account of him still being a Samurai), but boy can Iaian whip up a feast like no other despite all that. It’s all protein-packed flavor bombs that look simple in comparison to, say, Zombieman or Metal Knight’s food, but it still tastes good all the same. Kama eats off of his plate all the time and it used to annoy him but they’ve grown so close that they might as well share forks at this point.

Okamaitachi: Can’t really cook, but they are a baking god. I don’t know much about baking but I know they’ve got a cupboard dedicated to their plethora of sourdough starters. They buy yeast by the pound and make enough bread to feed entire armies some days. Whatever the gang doesn’t eat, they donate it to the local homeless shelter and make it a habit to go out of their way performing good deeds that don’t always involve sword fighting (something Kami insists he instilled into them via his teachings— which is bullshit. Kama is just naturally good-hearted and sweet).

Bushidrill: Can’t cook or bake for shit but like Atomic Samurai and Flash, can throw it down on the campfire. Don’t let this man near any turkeys or pigs because he will spitroast the fuck out of them.

Fubuki: Okay, not only is she a great cook but she’s as dogmatic as a coked-out head chef. She and the Blizzard Group sometimes cook together in her massive kitchen (she poured all of her measly paycheck into it because by god, if her apartment doesn’t have a kitchen fit for a chef then it’s not worth living in), and she’ll be barking orders like a damn crow. She’s got the two-grand knife set, cast-iron everything, bronze accents on the sink, and the ability to deglaze a pan without starting a fire. She’s a natural. If she cooks for you, then that’s how you know she likes you. All in all, her food tastes and looks great. She’s a bit low on funds on account of being only Class-B, so she sometimes takes little shortcuts when plating her dishes, like using celery leaves in place of parsley and all that jazz.

Saitama: I’ve already said that his diet is absolute shit and part of that is due to being poor, but I will show mercy and say that he’s a decent cook. He only makes what he knows he’s gonna like and doesn’t leave any room for experimentation unless his budget allows it (which isn’t often). His kitchen only has the bare essentials. Genos has offered to buy him more equipment and even renovate the damn thing for him but Saitama refuses each time because then he’d have a bigass kitchen just for making a poor man’s omurice, and that would be a waste. His talent, though? Making a perfect omelet. He can fold the egg like a sheet with no tears and no brown spots. It tastes heavenly.

Mumen Rider: Ultra-safe in the kitchen. He doesn’t even own a knife sharpener because he’s clumsy enough to know he’ll cut himself the moment he even tries to use it. His pot handles all have coverings and he’s watched all of the food safety and fire safety videos out there. He could give a goddamned seminar on it. Food-wise, he’s a decent home cook. Nothing special. He does, however, share Superalloy and Tanktop’s nasty habit of over healthy-ing everything to oblivion and making it a tasteless, vegetative mess. It doesn’t matter if you invite him to the potluck or not because he’ll bring a cauliflower pizza anyway and y’all better fucking enjoy it or he’ll start crying.

Sonic: The same as Flashy Flash, minus the pescatarianism. He’d butcher a pig without blinking an eye, and often uses his katana in cooking (even though it poses like, 87 different safety hazards and is most definitely health violation). He can forage quite well and has taken a liking to wild mushrooms and berries over the years. It’s gotten so natural to him that he now knows by heart the specific time of year in which the wild berries are ripest, and which species of salmon inhabit certain streams on any given day.

Garou: Would burn water. End of story. His cooking is so bad and dangerous that everyone thinks he’s an arsonist when he really just starts fires on accident. Don’t let this fucker near a stove, for the love of god.

[justaghostingon]

A Chance Encounter

Cyrus encounters a stranger wandering in the woods of the dark kingdom, and finds himself sharing a meal. But this strange, fae like girl might have more to do with Hugo and his friends than he could possibly imagine.

Not that he’d notice.

Takes place directly after Cogs in a Steel Heart

Give thanks to @quoththecomic! For letting me use her character Emily.

Read on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27154016

or below the cut

Cyrus hissed as his toe collided with yet another overgrown tree root. This was getting ridiculous. How many unseen tree roots did this dark and twisted forest have? He was almost beginning to miss the eerie black rocks.

No, Cyrus shook his head. He wasn’t that desperate. He’d leave those rocks to Hugo and his friends. He was going home to Mona, and he could brave any amount of horrible tree roots if it meant he’d see her again.

Feeling lighter, he took another step forward, and promptly felt the ground disappear beneath his feet. Cyrus had just enough time to think, Oh no, before a sharp force yanked him upward into the air. Vertigo clashed with blood flow as the world gradually spun back into focus, and Cyrus furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out why the world had turned upside down.

“Gotcha!” A high pitched voice cried, and Cyrus saw a cloaked figure hurrying across the ceiling of the world like a particularly energetic bat. “Wait,” the figure slowed, a frown in their voice. “What are you doing?”

Cyrus blinked. “I’m upside down,” he said. He’d thought it was obvious.

“You’re in my trap!” The figure pulled off their hood to reveal a very angry girl. “I spent all morning on that!”

Cyrus frowned. That was hardly his fault. How was he supposed to see the trap among all the leaves? The girl scowled right back, arms crossed arms crossed in a stance that looked vaguely familiar. Cyrus resisted the urge to ask if she had any relations in the iron kingdom.

A sharp growl came from her stomach, and she slapped a hand over it, a sharp blush flooding the skin not hidden beneath her long hair. The action was so childish it made Cyrus’ stomach twist, feeling like a jerk for making this kid’s life harder. He sighed.

“If you can get me down kid, I’ll give you some of my rations to make up for it,” he offered. The girl hesitated, so Cyrus took a leaf out of Hugo’s book and tried to sweeten the deal. “And I’ll cook.”

The girl waited a moment longer, long enough for Cyrus to feel a little offended. Did she think he couldn’t cook? Sure, Mona did most of the cooking, but he was perfectly capable of feeding himself before she arrived in his life! He opened his mouth, fully prepared to defend his skill, when the girl stepped forward.

In one swift motion she cut the rope and sent him tumbling to the ground. He caught himself with his arms and pushed backwards, flipping to his feet. There were certain advantages to working with alchemists, Cyrus thought as he straightened his shoulders, they had forced him to learn some fairly impressive stunts.

“Join the circus?” the girl asked dryly, one hand on her hip. But Cyrus, who had spent years with Hugo, ignored her quip in favor of rifling through his pockets for his food ration. It was, thankfully, not damaged from when he’d been attached to an exploding firework earlier today.

“I’ll get to cooking,” he grunted as he pulled it out. The girl swiped it out of his hands.

“Not so fast,” she said. “I’m not trusting my food to some stranger who doesn’t know how to tell leaves from a trap. I’ll make this meal.”

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. Last time he checked, cooking had nothing to do with outdoor survival skills. Otherwise people in the cities would have starved long ago. Sure, they were starving anyways, but that was because of corruption, and not from a lack of cooking skills. At least he was pretty sure it wasn’t.

The girl set up the fire, oblivious to Cyrus’ dilemma, and placed a small pan on top that she produced from underneath her cloak. She then pulled out a few vegetables and threw them in the pan with Cyrus’s rations. As she pulled out green herbs too, Cyrus began to wonder how exactly she was able to keep all of it underneath her cloak. Maybe it was magic.

Handling three different things at once didn’t appear to be easy though, and Cyrus saw one of the herb bottles slip precariously to her elbow. He leaned forward and caught it just as the girl did the same. Her hair slipped slightly away from her face, and Cyrus got a glimpse beneath it.

Course grey stone took the place of warm skin, creeping downward like a slow moving poison. Her left eye was an empty white, as unseeing as the marble statues he’d glimpsed in the noble’s district.

The girl reeled back, food falling forgotten between them as her hand automatically went to her hair, holding it back in place to hide the stone. Her body was tense, whether to run or to attack Cyrus wasn’t certain, but he knew he’d have to tread carefully.

He chose his next words with care, knowing they could mean the difference between life and death. What had his grandpa said? Be straightforward? “Are you a fae?” he asked, trying to sound polite.

“Wha…” the girl’s eye widened with surprise. “No!” She shook her head. “Wait, are you?” her single eye narrowed.

Huh. Cyrus had never thought about that before. Was he? He’d always been unusually strong, and keeping up with alchemists certainly wasn’t something ordinary people had much luck with. Still, he’s pretty sure his grandpa would have mentioned if he was a fae. Right?

“I don’t believe so.” He said, “I’ve never checked.” How did someone check these things anyways? Was there some kind of manual of symptoms? How would he explain this to Mona?

The girl let out a sharp laugh, and Cyrus looked up in just enough time to see her press a hand over her mouth. Good. He was glad at least someone was enjoying his dilemma.

“Don’t laugh,” Cyrus grunted with a false frown. “This is an important question! There could be allergies…” What was it that fae were allergic to? Why hadn’t he paid more attention? “...I’d never be able to eat garlic again.” Or was it Ginger?

“I’m pretty sure garlic wards away vampires,” the girl leaned forward, merth in her voice. Cyrus noted some of the tension in her shoulders had lessened.

“Does it?” Cyrus shrugged. “I should probably write that down. Can’t afford to offend my boss.” A cheap shot, but one he knew would have Hugo in stitches, and any other teen with a problem for authority.

Sure enough, the girl gave a snort, Cyrus straightened, pleased with himself as he saw her shoulders finally relax. It was nice to know he still had what it took when it came to dealing with kids.

“I’m Emily,” the girl extended a hand.

“Cyrus,” he said as he took it and gave a firm shake. The food in the pan hissed, and the girl jumped, attention snapping to it as she threw in a few more spices in and pulled it off the fire.

“Food’s ready!” She said as she stirred the pan. Cyrus held out his travel plate obligingly as she dished out half to him. He took a bite and held back a gag. The food tasted disgusting, spices clashing and overpowering each other over raw meat and charred edges. It took all of his self control to eat it without flinching. How had she messed this up so badly? She’d seemed so confident! He wished Mona were here, she’d know how to save it.

Emily devoured the food in front of her with the hunger of the young. Cyrus watched with some amusement as she seemed unable to taste her own cooking, finishing long before he was half way through. She sat back then, balancing her plate on her knee in a lazy fashion.

“You know,” she said, as the breeze ruffled the hair covering her stone eye, “I think you’re the first person to respond to my eye like that. Most people are so horrified they chase me off.”

Cyrus looked up sharply, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That’s awful,” he said, and felt a flash of anger at any adults this kid had met before.

“It’s not that bad!” Emily amends, waving a hand in front of her in an effort to seem casual. “I’m good on my own. I can handle anything the forest throws at me.” She nodded her head, as if proud, like this wasn’t the saddest thing he’d heard today.

An image flashed before his eyes, of Hugo waving his hand in disgust as he watched some boys his age running about in the street, a ball between them. “I’m too smart for those imbeciles,” he’d sniffed. “So why would I bother to get to know them?”

“Sound’s lonely,” Cyrus murmured, as he remembered how Hugo’s eyes had followed the ball as it had bounced around. Emily drew back as if he’d slapped her, and Cyrus’ attention snapped to the present.

“Sorry,” he grunted, Emily still looked hurt, and he wished for Mona to know what to say to explain. Yes. Explain. He could do that. “I just got lost in thought,” he said.

Emily raised an eyebrow and Cyrus knew he’d failed at human communication once again. “I used to look after this kid about your age,” he tried again, and Emily’s eyebrow rose higher. “We split company recently, so I guess I was just thinking about him.”

“Oh,” Some of the tension in Emily’s shoulders dissipated and Cyrus could have cried with relief. “What was he like?” Emily asked, glancing to the side as if feigning indifference. “Your traveling companion.”

How to sum Hugo up in a single sentence? Cyrus bit his lip. That wouldn’t be easy. “Proud,” he finally settled on. “And defensive.” Emily cocked her head to one side, hair moving to tickle her nose, and Cyrus knew she wanted him to elaborate.

“He was kinda the worst, to everyone.” He started, because really, there wasn’t any other way to put it. “Like really mean,” Emily blinked, and Cyrus realized he was doing a really bad job of this. He tried again. “He didn’t get along with kids his own age, but always acted like he couldn’t care less, I guess,” Cyrus sighed, “I never realized how miserable he was, until he actually got friends and decided to stay with them.”

“Yeah well,” Emily scowled as she pulled her knees closer to herself. “Sometimes the so-called friends are actually worse.”

“What do you mean?” Cyrus’ brow furrowed. Had he missed something? Was Hugo still in danger?

Emily stiffened at his tone, and Cyrus felt his heart clench. He probably shouldn’t have sounded so concerned. He didn’t want to alarm her.

“Look,” Emily glanced away, not meeting his eyes. “Sometimes people take lonely kids and they try to radicalize them by separating them from their families.” From the bitterness in her voice, Cyrus knew she was talking from experience. He wondered who it was she’d lost.

She glanced up, and apparently read his interest in his face because she continued. “You ever heard of the Saporians?”

Cyrus had to admit he had not. “I’m not the best with countries,” he offered. Which was true enough, as all of Donella’s maps only really focused on ones important to the quest.

Emily gave him a false smile. “That’s fine. Most haven’t. It was conquered by Corona years ago, culture oppressed, the whole deal.” Cyrus nodded, sounded like basic government behavior to him.

Emily twisted a bit of the fabric of her pant leg. “My brother,” she started then hesitated. “He got...radicalized, by a group of friends, way back when we were kids. He thought he was serving his country but people like that? They don’t really care, they just use people's passions to make them into useful tools.”

“You’re lucky you’re such a useful tool,” Donella scowled at Hugo as he glared back after one of their rare fights. “Or I’d have tossed you out years ago.”

Cyrus winced at the memory, remembering how Hugo’s eyes had briefly turned to glass before hiding under their usuall wall of stone. “You got it backwards.” He shook his head. “Anything would have been better for him than staying with us.”

“You shouldn’t sell yourself short like that,” Emily scolded. “You seem like a great dad.” Cyrus bit back a slight chuckle at how completely she’d misunderstood.

“I said I looked after him,” he grunted. “But I wasn’t his father or anything. His mother…” Donella probably cared, deep down. You don’t put up with Hugo that long without caring a little, no matter how useful he might be. He was too much to handle. And there were other moments...but still, he shook his head. “He’s better off with them.” Better off with people who could tell him they loved him, not hide it behind lies and a cold facade. “Besides,” he added as he saw Emily was still apprehensive, “I already made sure the friends were good people.”

“You did?” Emily frowned. “How?”

“I posed as a bounty hunter and tried to kill him,” Cyrus stated bluntly and Emily’s eyebrow disappeared into her hair.

“You did what?” she said.

“I posed as a bounty hunter and tried to kill him,” Cyrus repeated as patiently as possible, mindful that the true brilliance of his plan wasn’t inherently obvious to those outside the thug profession. “And promised not to harm them if they stepped aside.”

“That-,” Emily shook her head, no doubt impressed by Cyrus’ brilliance, “-is the absolute stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Or not. “What if they gave him up?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Cyrus shrugged, feeling that explaining his back up plan, run like hell, would likely only get him laughed at. “What matters is they stuck me to a firework and sent me flying into the sky.”

Emily choked. “They what?”

“They stuck me to a firework,” Cyrus repeated. At her incredulous expression he added, “It was a big firework.”

Emily’s brow furrowed. “And they just happened to have a big firework lying around?”

“Yes,” Cyrus nodded sagely, “the little one seems quite fond of them.” Emily’s shoulders stiffened, and she scrutinized Cyrus like she expected him to tell a bad joke. Cyrus briefly wondered if she knew who he was talking about. But no. That would be too much of a coincidence.

“So you trust them then,” she asked, voice causal. “Even after they blasted you into the sky? That doesn’t seem like the best recommendation.”

Cyrus sighed, looks like he wasn’t getting it across at all. “They know he’s the worst,” he stated. Had he left that part out? “And they still blasted me with a firework to defend him.” There. That got the point across right?

Emily’s brow furrowed as she stared morosely into the dying fire between them. Cyrus didn’t have to see inside her head to know she was deep in thought. It was the kind of expression Hugo would use when he was contemplating a particularly difficult heist he’d have to pull off. Finally she shook her head and pulled herself to her feet.

“It’s been nice to talk to you Cyrus,” she said as she began to kick soil on the fire. “But if I need to start moving if I want to make good use of the remaining daylight.”

A sudden image of Emily sitting all alone and eating her horrible cooking flashed across Cyrus’s mind. His heart gave a strange pang, and he heard himself say, “you could come with me if you’d like.” Emily stopped moving. “My wife would be happy to have you,” Cyrus continued, because he knew Mona would love her. Bad cooking and all. “And you wouldn’t have to wander around in the woods.”

Emily shot him a hollow smile. “Thank you,” she said. “But I can’t. I’ve got a mission to complete. Besides,” She rapped the stone on the side of her face. “I’ve no intention of staying like this forever.”

Cyrus wondered what it was about young folk that had them all running off on quests these days.

“Very well,” he sighed. “But if you ever come to the Iron Kingdom, go to the west district and ask for Mona or Cyrus, someone should point you in the right direction.” If by some strange twist of fate she got there before he did, Mona would make sure she wasn’t chased out of the city for the stone on her face.

“Sure,”  Emily nodded, then shot him a mischievous grin. “And if I see your kid, I’ll be sure to give him your best.”

“Thank you,” Cyrus grunted, but inside he felt his blood run cold. If Emily and Hugo met, he had a feeling whatever kingdom they met in wouldn’t survive the encounter. He hoped Hugo’s friends stayed far away from Emily.

Emily turned, and something slipped from the pouches beneath her cloak. She dove down to catch it, but not before Cyrus saw the smooth wooden carving land on the ground. If Gyrus didn’t know better, he’d have sworn it was a talisman. But that was impossible. Hugo would have told him if one had gone missing. Wouldn’t he?

Emily stuffed it back in her cloak with a look that was almost guilty. “You didn’t see that,” she said.

“Of course not,” Cyrus agreed, sure it wasn’t that important. Emily smiled.

[kathyprior4200]

Fallen (post episode 4)

 Cletus, Keenie and Collin broke down in heavy tears as they surveyed the area around them. The audience lay slumped and dead in their seats after being shot with arrows and bullets. Metal scaffolding lay bent and wrecked on the wooden stage where Blitzo, Moxxie and Millie were moments before. The former opera singer now lay dead and crushed underneath a stage light that had fallen on top of her. And underneath a broken piano lay the dead crushed body of Lyle Lipton, the elderly inventor they had tried to save.

 The scene was eerie and empty. The nervous well-dressed piano guy had promptly fled the scene, traumatized after the events. And those accursed imps had jumped through a portal back to Hell in triumph.

 As Cletus cried some more, fountains of tears sprung from his eyes. Keenie and Collin rushed in to comfort him. The trio had never felt so vulnerable before.

 “I…I can’t believe this!” Cletus wailed. “We were so close to helping out that man…even though he was shitty and old…”

 “Language,” chided Keenie.

 Cletus continued. “We did everything right, but now we can’t get back through.”

 “It’s not…completely your fault,” Collin said, putting a hoof on his leader’s back in comfort. “It was all an accident.”

 Cletus raised an eyebrow at his comrade. “What do you mean ‘not completely?’”

 “Well…” Collin began.

 “You’re right, it was those imps’ doing!” Keenie interrupted, her white lacy wings flapping in frustration. “If only Deerie had seen what they were doing to us.”

 The three took some deep breaths and sobs as they slowly calmed down. With a wave of his hand, their fancy dresses and tuxedos clothes were replaced by their regular outfits: reddish overalls for Cletus, a light blue shirt and white bow tie for Collin and a yellow dress for Keenie.

 “What do we do now?” Collin asked, almost in a whisper.

 “First thing’s first,” said Cletus. “We find a safe place to stay for a while. Who knows how long we’ll have to stay on Earth?” The others nodded in agreement.

 “Urgh,” Keenie scowled. “First those filthy demonic trash decide to mock us and now we have to live among these…messy mortals?”

 “Oh come on,” Collin gave a small smile as the three left the theater. They looked again sadly at the deceased humans and made crosses with their hands before flying away through an open window. “Things will work out. We’ve helped humans all the time. Surely they can’t be that bad!”

  The three of them later gasped in sheer horror on the streets in a nearby town. A homeless man sat on a corner smoking a cigarette, while his comrade vomited alcohol down a sewer drain. A large man with a mustache ripped off a woman’s shirt as she leaned into him with a messy kiss in an alleyway. A skinny thief snatched a woman’s purse before he was brutally shot in the head by a man with a baseball cap. Two men were fighting each other and swearing, one of them landing a punch that toppled the other to the ground. As a policeman dragged a body away, a nearby band blared on bloodstained instruments. The logo on the drum read “Hail Satan!” in red messy paint.

 A group of men sitting on a bench glanced at the cherubs hungrily.

 “Anyone want mutton chops tonight?” The others laughed and displayed sinister grins.

 C.H.E.R.U.B. stood with open mouths for several seconds. Cletus laughed nervously and made a motion with his arm and fist. “Let’s go check out someplace else!”

 The three took to the sky, trying not to look at the watchful eyes of passerby.

 Collin’s fluffy light indigo ears perked up. “Hey, I know what we can do! We can keep doing our job like before, helping people in need! Now that those imps are back in Hell, we are free to do what we like.”

 Keenie shook her head. “As much as I want to, I don’t think we should just yet. I’m worried that we’ll just cause more deaths.”

 “I might have to agree as well,” said Cletus. “I mean, how can we tell anyone about our accomplishments if we aren’t in Heaven anymore?”

 “I miss my mom and dad,” Collin whined. “How will they react when they find out about what we’ve done?” He gasped. “What if they already know? What if all of Heaven knows and now sees us as…one of them?”

 The others gasped.

 “You don’t mean…” Keenie began.

 Cletus rapidly shook his head. “No, no, no, no! I refuse to believe that our one mistake would lead us into becoming demons!”

 “What if…it’s already too late?” Keenie wondered in fear.

 Collin imagined all three of them trapped in long black demonic hands, their wings and halos gone. Flames turning their eyes red and their skin a charred black. The pale face of Lucifer towering behind them and letting out a maniacal laugh.

 “Oh my gosh, oh my god!” Collin cried, his eyes wide as he shook his head free of the fear.

 Keenie slapped him hard on the head. “Hey, I told you to not use the Lord’s name in vain!” Collin sobbed again and rubbed his large white wool of hair as he flew beside them.

  The setting sun turned the sky a brilliant orange as the three cherubs searched for a safe place to stay the night. Their white feathery wings and halos glowed and flickered in the fading light. Their silhouettes followed the setting sun before they landed in a quieter part of town. Neon signs were already humming in the twilight. From inside nearby windows, several woman were wearing dark lace and high heeled boots, pole-dancing to upbeat music. The cherubs huddled close together, staying under streetlights to avoid the dark unknown. Their wings flapped silently as they moved forward inches off the ground.

 “I miss Heaven’s comforting light,” Keenie sighed. “And God’s light most of all. It seems like this place is devoid of it.”

 “There’s always good somewhere in the world,” said Collin with a hopeful expression. “You just have to know where to look.”

 “The only thing I see are shabby buildings and humans indulging in their disgusting desires,” Cletus remarked. He mentioned to a nearby man who burped loudly after stuffing an entire pizza into his mouth. “The sooner we get home, the better.”

 Collin took a piece of cheese he bought and popped it into his mouth. He grumbled. “The food here is prison food in comparison to what we have back home. It just tastes so…bland and heavy.”

 Keenie munched half-heartedly on a carrot. “It’s still edible at least.”

 “Demons eat nothing but raw meat,” Cletus added. “Back up above, we could enjoy all the vegetables, holy fruits, and drinks we wanted. Every day was an endless buffet…”

 “Stop making me hungry,” Collin remarked. They fell into silence as a nightly breeze ruffled their clothing and wooly fur.

 “I think we should get human disguises soon,” Collin later mentioned as they hovered over the sidewalk.

 “Yeah, like those hideous costumes worked out well for those imps,” Cletus rolled his eyes. “Relax, Collin. I’m sure some of the humans will notice and treat us with the respect I…um, we deserve.”

 Collin huffed. “I sure hope so.” He clapped his large front hooves together nervously as if trying to say something. As they continued hovering past some alleyways, a low growl was heard. Keenie paused, her hair stood on end.

  “Guys…what was that?” Keenie asked, looking around.

 “Probably just Collin’s stomach,” Cletus mentioned.

 “No, I swear it wasn’t me,” he said. “Through I am very hungry.”

 The growling grew louder…it seemed to be coming from behind them. The three slowly turned around and spotted a figure in the shadows. It was a large gray canine with beady black eyes…and very sharp teeth. Drool dribbled onto the ground by its paws.

 The cherubs screamed and scattered away in flight. The dog barked loudly and raced after them. The cherubs zoomed up ahead, avoiding passing cars and maneuvering around figures of people. They zoomed over black trash bags as the dog barreled through them at high speed. The dog raced on all fours, snapping its jaws as it moved closer to them.

 “Get back!” Keenie called, moving her yellow hooves in a frantic kick, just missing its face. The beast just grabbed at her dress with its teeth and yanked.

 “Aaaahhhh! Get off, you beast!” she cried.

 Cletus yelled in fury and raised his hand in the air as he flew. He then glanced upward in sheer shock.

 “I can’t summon my golden crossbow!”

 Collin flew nearby, muttering a prayer while shaking. He took a deep breath and speed toward the dog. He landed a punch to the dog’s eyes…and with a yelp, the dog let go of Keenie’s dress with a rip. Keenie gasped and shook herself. “My dress!” she cried as she stared at the torn slobbery hole. “Look at my dress!”

 “Be thankful it’s not your backside,” Cletus mentioned. Keenie seethed at him as Collin came flying back toward them, the dog at his heels. Keenie shoved Collin backwards toward the dog, sending the both of them tumbling to the ground.

 Cletus and Keenie flew as fast as they could until Keenie spotted a beacon in the distance. A tall brick building had a large white Christian Cross on top of it, appearing golden as the sun continued to set. Several stained glass windows showed images of Jesus and the Virgin Mary surrounded by golden backgrounds. Even more spectacular was a nearby towering Christmas tree decorated with gold and silver ornaments and a six pointed star at the top.

 “A church!” she called. “Hurry!”

 They landed in front of the large wooden double doors, catching their breath.

 “My wings are sore,” Cletus groaned.

 “No more flying for a while,” Keenie agreed.

 Cletus knocked politely on the door. “Hello? Anybody in there?”

 So far, no answer.

 Just then, they heard panting from behind them. They whirled around…only to find Collin hunched over, his clothes torn up. There were several scratches all over him.

��“Oh Collin, thank goodness,” Cletus sighed in relief.

 “Keenie…” Collin began. “What was that back there?! I’m lucky I escaped at all!”

 “I had to distract the dog so we could get away,” she said.

 Collin glared and stomped one of his cloven feet. “That’s the second time you pushed me in harm’s way! And the first time was with a whole pack of wild animals!”

 “You’re still fine, right?” she asked.

 Collin let out a “ha!” followed by a “no.”

 “Don’t ever do that again,” he said, folding his arms. The cherubs waved their hands and their clothes and skin were repaired.

 Just then, the door solely opened. A woman dressed in a black robe stared into the distance. “Hello?”

 “Down here,” said Cletus. She looked down with surprise in her eyes.

 “May I help you?”

 “Hi,” said Cletus. “We got lost from our home and now we have nowhere to go. May we stay for a bit?”

 The woman peered closer at them, narrowing her eyes. “You three look familiar…”

 The cherubs gulped. Seconds dragged on.

 “Do I know you?”

 “Um…” Cletus began, sweat trickling down his forehead.

 “Of course!” she called, standing up. “You’re those guardian angels who go out and save people, yes?”

 Cletus stood proudly. “Yep, that’s us!” The other two let out soft gasps and looked at Cletus in worry.

 The woman looked around. “Hurry, inside now,” she said. “The world is full of people willing to take advantage of you savior children.”

 The cherubs bowed in thanks before heading through the door.

 “Technically, I’m twenty-four,” Cletus muttered.

 “I thought we were hundreds of years old,” wondered Keenie.

 Collin grinned, redness briefly spreading to his cheeks. “You’re so beautiful, you don’t look a year over two-hundred.”

 Keenie “bahed” at him in annoyance before they made it into the main chamber. The high vaulted ceiling made even the cherub angels feel small. The sky was a dark indigo through the opening above. Rows of arched gaps circled the area near the ceiling, and stone pillars held the ceiling on either side. The floor was in a black and white checkered pattern while a few Greek inspired designs caught Cletus’ attention. The rows of seats were polished and clean, and several white candles were lit in holders, emitting a peaceful glow.

 The woman made way for them and came back with a bowl of fruit and grass. Collin munched on blueberries, Keenie on pineapple slices and Cletus started on red apples. Cletus stared into the apple’s red surface. “Just like the Garden of Eden,” he said to himself. “When Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge, she had disobeyed God’s order. She gave the fruit to Adam who then ate one. God banished them from the Garden, cursed them to grow old and die…thus began the fall of man…”

 Cletus stared closely at the apple’s surface, the red morphing into the face of a red goat. A grin of sharp white teeth, red eyes surrounded by black, a glowing black Ring with a Roman numeral five on it…

 “Are you okay?” Collin asked.

 Cletus whipped his head to Collin. “Oh yes, I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, forcing a grin.

 Cletus turned and set the apple aside.

 “I sure hope we don’t age too,” Keenie added in concern. “I don’t want to lose my pretty face and looks.”

 “That inventor managed to survive for a while,” Collin said.

 “Barely,” Cletus mentioned.

 “We’re still angels,” mentioned Collin. “It is very rare for us to be erased from existence without good reason…”

 “Please don’t say such things!” mumbled Keenie.

 The woman went up to the ornate alter and poured in some herbs into an incense burner. The smell of frankincense and myrrh calmed the cherubs down after a while.

 “I’ll leave you to it,” said the woman. “Stay for as long as you need but stay out of sight more often than naught. If you need anything, just let me know. Be careful dear sheep babies.”

 “Bless you miss,” said Cletus.

 The cherubs bowed in thanks as she left.

 “Sheep babies?” Cletus scowled. “I’m not a freaking baby!”

 “Don’t worry about it,” said Collin.

 Keenie walked up to a stone basin nearby as Collin and Cletus bickered for a bit. Gazing in a small pool of holy water, Keenie thought she saw a ghostly face of a pale woman with long blonde hair, a black crown and large curved horns. The face briefly shifted to another white face with orange eyes and flaming wild auburn colored hair. She blinked a few times and it was gone. She only saw her wide-eyed reflection faintly on the surface. She turned away and arrived beside her comrades.

 The altar before them was made of gold, as was the ornate cross situated on top.

 Keenie, Collin and Cletus knelt down in prayer, tears falling from their faces.

 “Oh mighty Lord, please have mercy on us,” Cletus said. “Please forgive us for the mistakes we made here on Earth.”

 “Father…we only tried to help a broken man get onto the right path,” Keenie said. “We didn’t mean to kill him.”

 “We just want to go home,” Collin added. “We’ll take whatever punishment you give us but please…tell us if there is anything we can do…”

 More moments passed as night fell. Stars and a moon were visible through the glass windows.

“God help the outcasts,” Collin chanted softly. “God help our cherub people. We look to you still. If you can’t help us, nobody will.”

 “I ask for glory. I ask for fame. I ask for redemption to shine on our name,” added Cletus.

 Keenie continued the chant.  “We ask for your guidance, a way to get by. Help us right our fate, listen to our cry.”

 Cletus finished, “Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost, please watch over us.”

 All three said “Amen!” before a colorful portal of clouds opened above them. The cherubs each looked up.  

 “Lord Gabriel?” asked Cletus. “Is that you?”

 A sound of clapping hooves greeted them, followed by a haughty laugh.

 “My my, what a marvelous…pitiful performance!”

 The brown furry face of a winged deer cherub came into view. A sense of smugness and superiority was clearly reflected in her eyes.

 “Deerie?!” the cherubs cried, their faces morphing into angry scowls.

 “Wow, I’d expect a more proper welcome from deferential devotees such as yourselves. The human world getting to you so soon?”

 “What are you doing here?” Keenie asked. “We called for Gabriel.”

 “Gabriel sends you his best regards, and says that you guys can rise again and be fully redeemed after a while…”

 The cherubs smiled until she added, “heheh, yeah, no.”

 Their faces fell.

 “I’m afraid you guys can’t re-enter Heaven, like I said before. Nothing you can do about it. Rules and all.”

 Cletus turned red in the face. “But it was an accident! The imps fought us off. They were the ones trying to kill Lyle Lipton!”

 “But they didn’t, correct? Based on what Heaven has seen, you three not only killed Lyle unintentionally…but you caused much more death and suffering.”

 “What?!” all three cried out.  

 Collin thought back to all the dead audience members. They had been so involved in fighting off their rivals that they didn’t even notice them.

 “It was I.M.P.’s fault!” Keenie argued.

 “Yes, but you also played a role in it,” Deerie explained. “You blindly shot your arrow, which later caused the piano to crush the old man. We see everything, you know.”

 Cletus then turned to Collin. “About that time earlier when you said it ‘wasn’t completely my fault…’”

 Collin stood his ground. “It was though. It was all our faults.” He jabbed a hoof into Cletus. “But you were so adamant to kill off those imps that you didn’t consider who else would be at risk. We should’ve taken the fight outside! I tried to tell you guys earlier!”

 “You’re a literal sheep,” Cletus replied, getting into Collin’s face. “You never said a word; you just followed my orders like you were supposed to.”

 “Those imps are nothing more than dirt that the dead tread on,” Keenie added. “We may be angels, but we never go down without a fight. Surely you’d do well with being less of a wimp, Collin.”

 Collin scoffed. “I’m sorry. I thought we were supposed to be the good guys. The loving guardians who actually help those we meet. I just realized that we didn’t let Lyle Lipton learn his little lesson.”

 “Five times fast,” Cletus snickered, but Collin ignored him.

 “We didn’t tell Lyle how sinful it is to be so immersed in his own greed. He really could’ve used his riches for good if we had stayed to help him like we were supposed to! We should’ve explained to our victims why any of their bad behaviors were wrong. But instead we just left them all behind!”

 “What did you think we were trying to do?!” Keenie yelled. “We showed him nature, childhood wonderment, young love and the arts. And it would’ve worked if it weren’t for those meddlesome…”

 “You done?” Deerie casually asked in the air. She finished filing her hooves and had a bag of popcorn with her. The cherubs turned back to her.

 “Far from it, bitch!” Keenie yelled.

 “Language!” Collin warned.

 “You three have learned nothing, huh? You see scraps, I was briefly summoned here by you guys and I gotta get back soon, so I may as well elaborate on your consequences. Let’s see…”

 Deerie summoned her clipboard and her reading glasses. On her notepad, she had drawn cats and Invader Zim characters. A side note read “more musical episodes?”

 “Not only did you kill one human, but you also killed multiple mortals in the theater. This has made Azrael, the Angel of Death very upset. There are many people that are chosen to die at certain times and let me tell you, having to cross and uncross multiple names can get pretty irksome.”

 The cherubs stood silent.

 “In other words, you’re also in trouble for simply…oh I don’t know…doing a business and going to Earth without the permission from your superiors! A big no-no.”

 “But we were saving people’s lives, and teaching them God’s true path…” Cletus began.

 “…or more than likely, saving humans just to boost about your company accomplishments.”

 “I knew it!” Collin called, glaring at Cletus. “Our main purpose is to help humans because it’s the right thing to do. I knew I should have stayed at my record-keeping job.”

 “You and Keenie thought joining C.H.E.R.U.B. with me was a good idea and it was!” Cletus protested.

 “Cherubs are supposed to do various record keeping for soul count, religions, sins and choices made by humans etc.,”Deerie said. “Just proves that I do my job better than you three after all!”

 Keenie smirked. “You sure you’re still not jealous because we got to go on exciting adventures? That we became more famous than you?”  

 Deerie chuckled. “More like infamous now. Cletus especially, you gave into your pride and wrath during the fight. You cherubs are supposed to help spread the holy word of God, and not go into the human world unless necessary.”

 The cherubs lowered their heads a bit.  

 “Not to mention several people you saved ended up as criminals. You know, the kind of people who abuse their children, scam others into giving them money, enslaving citizens in other countries…”

 “How were we supposed to know all of that?!” Keenie cried. “We saved their lives at the request of their loved ones in Heaven!”

 “Which, in turn can cause more global suffering and even an altering of history itself,” Deerie explained. “Lyle was destined to die and go to Hell anyway. Your actions are not befitting to your titles as cherubs in the first place. I’m surprised no one has managed to sell you on the black market yet. I guess you can be referred to as…black sheep now!”

 Deerie burst into laughter, slapping her furry knees.

 “Get out,” Cletus muttered.

 Deerie laughed some more, wiping tears from her large eyes. “Oh dearie me, I’m so clever!”

 Cletus thought he saw a grinning man’s face with red eyes and licking his lips behind Deerie.

 Cletus shook the vision away before yelling, “No I’m serious, get the fuck out!”

 “Language!” the other three shouted, their voices echoing in the vast space. The silence was deafening. Or the noises were hearing.

 “Well then, I wish you three a fun time on Earth,” Deerie said. “Feel free to not call me again. I have no use dealing with fallen sheep anyway.”

 “Can you at least tell us what will happen to us next?” Collin asked.

 “Oh that’s actually pretty simple,” Deerie explained.  “I.M.P. will be dealt with in due time. But as for you three…”

 She pointed her hooves at Collin, Cletus and Keenie, who each gasped in turn. “In Gabriel’s words: ‘You will still redeem and protect human souls but this time under closer supervision. You will learn to live among them for a while in the hopes that your arrogance toward those different from yourselves will subside over time. Only after your true redemption may you return to Heaven. I have the utmost faith in you.’ End quote.”

 The three cherubs sighed in relief.

 “Oh one last thing,” Deerie grinned. “I forgot to tell you the best part.” Collin and the others did not like the look on her face.

 Deerie continued. “Now that you’re here on Earth, you will all be vulnerable to human emotions and sins. Pride, greed, lust, anger, you know it.”

 “Not gonna happen lady,” Keenie spat with her hands on her hips.  

 “Everyone save for God has flaws. You didn’t think that redeeming yourselves would be a stroll in the clouds did you?”

 The cherubs looked at each other.

 “Yeah, so basically you all have a limited time to prove yourselves on Earth. A couple days at the very least?”

 Collin whimpered with droopy ears as his white halo above him briefly flickered.

 “Yeah, so if you don’t complete your mission in time…it’s a one-way trip down for you!”

 The cherubs yelled while grabbing onto each other.

 “Yes indeed!” Deerie said. “I can see you three reluctantly joining up with I.M.P.’s rivals to enact your revenge, turning into the winged devils you were destined to become!”

 “Nooooooo!” they cried in horror.

 Deerie then let out a childish laugh, waving her hoof. “But hey, that’s just a theory! I look forward to hearing about your…pandemonium adventures in the next few episodes!”

 Deerie waved and called, “That’s a wrap! Bye!”

 Cletus charged at her again, but she vanished through the portal and it closed.

 “No, no, no!” Cletus sobbed again, his co-workers comforting him.

 After several minutes, the cherubs stared at the stars and moon through one long window.

 “You know guys,” Collin admitted, “Though you might be a pain in my behind at times, you’re still like my family. Whether we’re in Heaven, Earth or Hell…we can get through anything as long as we stick together.”

 Keenie gave Collin a comforting side hug. Cletus soon joined in and he sighed. “That’s one thing we can all agree on.”

 After staring at the heavens, Cletus said, “We’d better rest up…we have lots of work to do.”

 The three cherubs huddled together underneath another Christmas tree, sleeping on a comfortable red rug.

 Though the mighty had fallen, they could only hope that the meek could rise.