#like yes on the one hand he does have sense of theatrics

[konfizry]

the indignation experience in tales of arise is not one of “holy shit they put indignation in tales????” as much as one of Indignation? At this point of the game? In this part of the battle? This early in the playthrough? Localized entirely within the second boss’ chamber? 

[cryptidghostgirl]

Make You Wish Chapter Four -- Vox

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: I don't think there are any for this chapter? Correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 1,225

Previous Part: Chapter Three -- A Reunion

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Make You Wish Master List

A/N I wasn't planning on posting this until tomorrow, but it seems to have some rather excited fans so here is chapter four (and the fourth thing I'm publishing today. We're very done for the day. I am tried and have actual work to do.) Also guys, I'm screaming. I accidentally deleted the whole things right before I was gonna post it. Thankfully I had a draft from when it was almost done save but like, god that sucked.

On the screen was Vox, seated behind a desk.

"Top of the hour and we're discussing a certain has-been how has been spotted cavorting around town after a seven year absence." Vox was saying, a poorly drawn image of Alastor displayed on the screen to his left.

Y/n saw Alastor's ear twitch with irritation.

"Yeah." she sighed, folding her arms across her chest, "Vox has gone kinda crazy since you left. I told you, things got tough."

"Did anybody miss him? Did anybody notice? More on tonight's program." Vox said through the TV, shuffling a stack of papers.

Alastor changed the channel with another flick of his finger.

"Hun, don't worry yourself with it." Y/n advised, "He's still gonna be there tomorrow."

The new channel showed a talk-show set up, Vox-2-Nite, where Vox was both host and guest.

"So, the old Radio Demon is back in town." host Vox was saying to himself as guest.

"Why is he hanging around?" guest Vox asked, taking a sip from a mug that had 'fuck Alastor' written on the side.

"Al." Y/n warned, sensing her friends irritation growing.

"What does that mean for your family?" Host Vox asked before Alastor changed the channel again.

Vox was on the screen again, before a bright red curtain.

"Well, handily, I've got good news." he was saying theatrically, "He's a loser, a fossil, and I don't mean to sound hostel-"

Alastor changed the channel again. This time to one of Vox's mega church broadcasts. Vox stood in the center of the screen wearing a pope's hat with an inverted cross on it.

"But the demon is a coward!" he announced, his words matching the previous channels sentiments perfectly.

"Jesus, V." Y/n asked, eyes wide, "How many channels are you running this on?"

"You can take that as gospel. Pulling my viewers? Impossible. I'm visual, he's barely audible."

"Y/n." Alastor hummed, his eyes still fixed on the screen.

"Yeah?"

"You wont mind if I handle this quickly. We can have our little chat after, I promise. It wont take more than a moment."

"I don't know, Al..." Y/n sighed, crossing her arms and tapping her foot slightly, "This isn't good for you, letting him get under your skin like this."

Alastor changed the channel again. A cooking show appeared and Vox was standing before the oven, singing along to the music playing in the background.

"But he should've stayed away! While he hid in radio, we pivoted to video!"

Vox on screen turned to the oven as he sang, opening it and pulling out a deer's head on a plate. Y/n bristled at the site, her horns growing just the tiniest bit longer, her teeth just the smallest bit sharper.

"And now his medium is getting bloody rare!"

"Al?" Y/n asked sharply.

"Yes, darling?"

"I lied." Y/n turned to face him, "He took this shit musical. Rip him a new one."

"Oh!" Millie exclaimed, excitedly grabbing onto Moxxie's arm, "We're gonna get a show!"

Alastor's grin widened at Y/n's words, if that was even possible. He stuck his hand out to the side, his microphone materializing in his grasp.

"Lucky for me, I've got the best voice this side of the divide on my side." he noted, shooting Y/n a look.

Her eyes flashed red.

"You flatter me."

Alastor brought his microphone to his mouth, suddenly exceedingly calm. The imps present in the room watched in shock as his ears flattened along his head.

"Salutations, good to be back on the air!" he announced into the device, "Yes I know it's been a while since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast. Sinners rejoice!"

Vox's brow furrowed on the TV screen as he inched up close to the camera.

"What a dated voice." Vox shot back, clearly listening to Alastor's broadcast on the set of his cooking show.

"Instead of a clout chasing, mediocre, video podcast." Alastor continued, not showing any sign he had noticed the TV demon's insult, "Is Vox insecure, pursuing allure? Flitting between this fad and that, is nothing working?"

"Ignore his chirping!" Vox commanded from the TV.

Y/n laughed and, turning to face Alastor, realized the man held a hand out to her. With a smile, she took it and he spun her into his arms as he spoke. The music echoed through the office as Alastor raised the volume on the TV once again.

"Every day he's got a new format."

Alastor spun Y/n back out again as the pair began dancing.

"You're looking at the future!" Vox yelled back, "He's the shit that comes before that!"

As Alastor spun Y/n back into his arms, she laid one of her hands on top of his holding the microphone and pulled it closer to her face.

"Is Vox as strong as he purports, or is it based on his support?" she sang in a clear voice, Blitzo, Millie, and Moxxie's eyes widening with recognition at the sound, "He'd be powerless without the other Vees."

"That's true!" Alastor noted, pulling the microphone back to himself as Y/n let go of his hand and he spun her back out again.

"It can't be..." Moxxie muttered under his breath.

"Holy shit!" Millie cut him off, excitement creeping into her voice, "There's no way, Y/n is the guest star?"

"The fuck are you two talking about?" Blitzo asked, turning to Millie and Moxxie as they watched the couple continue to dance.

"Well, Sir," Moxxie began, fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket, "back before the Radio Demon went missing, he used to bring guests onto the show on occasion. There was one guest he never named during his broadcasts however. She mostly just sang songs and chatted with him but, she sounded an awful lot like Y/n did just now."

"You don't say." Blitzo hummed, his arms crossed as he turned back to Y/n and Alastor, "So much for little miss 'oh, my life has been so boring. You'd probably just fall asleep if I started talking about it!' She is so gonna get it later."

Alastor let go of Y/n's hand and leaned into the microphone, beginning to sing as well, using the music emanating from the TV as a base.

"And here's the sugar on the cream: he asked me to join his team!"

"Hold on!" Vox yelled.

"I said no and now he's pissy, that's the tea!" Alastor finished, ignoring the demon once again.

"You old timey prick!" Vox exclaimed, his face glitching slightly as Y/n wandered back over to Alastor.

She leaned an elbow on his shoulder, tilting her head to the side in amusement as they watched Vox struggle.

"I'll show you suffering!"

"Aww, the TV is buffering." Y/n said, leaning into the microphone, her voice dripping with sickly sweet pity.

"I'll destroy yoo-o-u-u" Vox exclaimed as his technical difficulties seemed to grow worse.

Alastor and Y/n exchanged a wicked pair of smiles as the TV flickered out. Shadows crept from the edges of the room, encircling their feet. Alastor held an arm out to Y/n once again which she took with a smile. In a flash of darkness, they were gone.

"What the fuck was that?" Loona asked, stalking into the room.

----

Next Part -> Chapter Five -- The Conversation

[soldat-buck]

i had a vision while making coffee this morning

bg3 culinary headcanons: Companion Edition

- Shadowheart: absolute zero regard for contamination while cooking. kitchen habits of a permanent bachelor. licks the tasting spoon clean and keeps using it to cook. eats hot cocoa straight out of the container with a spoon. thinks pouring ranch over an entire head of lettuce and eating it like feral animal while holding it over the kitchen sink counts as "salad". if you can get past the contamination thing, the food she makes actually tastes pretty good, even if it's sometimes odd (she cooks like a stoner, despite being perfectly sober. she is just Like That).

- Astarion: perfectly capable of cooking, and actually can cook quite well. food may not taste the same after becoming a vampire, but his enhanced sense of smell tells him nearly everything he needs to know about how to season and cook food properly. he doesn't cook because he doesn't like to (washing dishes? by hand? no fucking thank you, being undead is harsh enough on the nails and skin. finding a good lotion for normal undead dryness is already impossible)

- Lae'zel: in the modern world, if her life took her in a chef direction, she'd be in a Michelin star restaurant as the world's best and most terrifying sous chef. she absolutely would throw a knife at you for fucking up her plating (she'd intentionally miss. the first time). no nonsense is ever tolerated in her kitchen, but that doesn't necessarily mean she's got temper issues (her coldness and lack of tantrums is what makes her terrifying). she'd put Gordon Ramsay in his place for his rage theatrics and then make him weep with joy after serving him the most competent omelet he's ever had in his life. if she likes you, you may address her as "Yes, Chef!" outside of the kitchen.

- Karlach: uses 4 pots to make ramen. not because she's doing anything fancy or elaborate with it, the first pot was too small and started boiling over (whoops). the second one was, oh hold on, that's a cast iron pan, maybe you're not supposed to use that for boiling liquids, huh? wait shit, can't use this one either, i'm not supposed to use metal spoons on nonstick, don't want to scratch it. There we go! this one is the right size! and if i scratch this one, it's fine! wait, where the fuck did the flavor packet go (you should definitely be concerned about leaving her alone for the weekend)

- Wyll: very resourceful cook due to his Blade of the Frontier days. can improvise a meal out of damn near anything. can identify every edible plant and mushroom and tell you how to use it in a dish. would carry an herb garden in his adventure pack if he could. would absolutely thrive on the show Chopped (he's actually banned from auditioning again because it's not fair to the other competitors to have him on). he could make you a dessert featuring rattlesnake and fresh picked clover, and you don't know how or why, but you actually like it

- Gale: approaches the kitchen the same way he approaches most things in his life - academically. knows the proper safe temperature to cook meats/etc to, knows how to brown an onion, knows what seasonings are typically used together for certain flavor profiles and how to match seasonings to proteins. knife work sucks because he uses mage hand for mise en place and his mage hand has shitty DEX, but he's scared of his chef knife from the one time he sliced his thumb open (he was cutting an onion with improper hand placement and the knife slipped)

- Minsc: would exclusively eat by dumpster diving if it weren't for Boo's disapproval. eats like a human garbage disposal. he will eat a n y t h i n g that fits in his mouth, he is the least picky eater you will ever meet. does not understand how food challenges in the show Fear Factor are supposed to be challenges

- Halsin: world class forager. very competent hunter. prefers to eat everything as raw as possible. understands but doesn't believe in strict food safety because obviously stomach acid kills germs (and anyway, a little dirt here and there never killed anyone; exposure to germs is good for your immune system). open-mouthed kissing him is gambling with your health. makes the best vegetarian salads but do not trust any chicken he has "cooked". people with weak CON might want to consider avoiding his food

- Jaheira: uses Talk to Animals to Cinderella/Ratatouille rodents in the kitchen. she commands them like she's in perilous battle and the entire world is at stake (also rodents are worse to direct than cats, they do not know the difference between left and right. there's a lot of "No! Not that cupboard, the other one! NO, the OTHER other one! Flank him, he's off balance!"). making a cup of tea is a convoluted, stressful process that takes 10 times longer than just boiling the damn water yourself

if you want more bg3 culinary headcanons, there's also: the Absolute Edition

[gemstone-roses]

New Year’s Eve.

Eddie Munson x Reader.

Summary: Eddie overhears you turn down an invite to Steve’s iconic nye party, stating you categorically hate the holiday, so, he invites you to spend the evening with him in his trailer instead.

Warnings; SMUT, 18+ only, p in v MINORS BE FUCKING GONE FROM THIS PLACE , mentions of drug dealing., anxiety, praise kink, hurt/comfort vibes, the holy trinity of my fics. Like soo much praise kink, fingering! This took forever to write but I’m proud of it ok. This work and this blog is intended for adults only. I am not responsible for what content you consume.

A:N - I wanted to post one more fic before the end of the year, I hope you all like it! Thankyou for all the love on this blog this past year, I am so happy my fics have been a source of comfort for some of you, I’m so thankful for all the love. it’s been a tough one for many, including myself, here’s hoping the next is easier on rveryone. Much love to everyone ❤️❤️

“what do you mean you’re not coming!” Steve asks with mock affront, standing at the door of your trailer, your leaning against the door, steaming mug of coffee, untouched, you give Eddie a wave as he leaves his place opposite, he sends you a wicked smile and a wink as he leaves to do his dealings of the day.

You shake your head and chuckle.

“Steve, every year you ask me, every year I say no, my answer hasn’t changed and it won’t” annoyance creeps into your voice unintentionally. Steve opens his mouth feigning hurt before breaking out into a smile.

“Sorry, I just haven’t had my coffee yet, but I hope you have a wonderful party Steve” you smile, and he nods “I understand, I just have to ask you know? Maybe this year will be the year you come”. “You’ve said that every year since we’ve known each other haven’t you” you chuckle, and he nods, swiping his hand through his hair. “Anyway, lots to do, I better be off, have a good night” he waves you off before getting back in his car. You bring your coffee to your mouth, finally. “Spending New Year’s Eve alone sweetheart”? Eddie appears from the side of your trailer, his face in a huge grin you can’t help but smile.

“Yes”. You say. Eddies brow furrows, as he steps into your doorway, his aftershave invades your senses as he places a caring hand on your arm” can’t have that darlin, I’ll be back at 5, come hang with me” he’s says it so casually but the sparkle in his eyes says he’s desperate for you to say yes. You weigh up your options in your head, you were just going to go to bed early and hide under your covers, but the man in front of you makes your breath hitch whenever you see him, and that mouth,god. “Yeah, okay”. You say. And you didn’t think it possible but eddies grin gets wider. “Just come over anytime after five sweetheart” his voice cracks at the end of his sentence and you have to do everything in your power not to groan. “Okay” you whisper. And then he’s gone, leaving you feeling empty without his presence.

5 o clock comes quicker than you thought. Swiftly slipping on a black band tee you pull on a pair of comfy joggers and head over.

The door swings open before you can even knock. “Hey darlin” his eyes are sparkling again as he steps back and does a theatrical bow to show you in. You laugh at his actions as he shuts the door behind you.

“So, sweetheart, you gonna tell me why you hate this holiday so much?” He steps closer to you, his eyes wide with interest. You frown, anxiety pooling in your stomach. “Hey” he says softly. Fingers coming to cup your chin. You look at him, his soft brown eyes make your insides melt slightly. “Did I upset you” he asks and it’s so sweet and unexpected you can’t help but let out a small laugh. “No, god no, I just, it’s silly” you trail off, looking down at the floor. “Not to me” Eddie says softly, and you look up and once more think you might get lost in those eyes. He’s got a reassuring smile on his face, waiting. “I get this impending and unrelenting feeling of doom okay” you whisper, then shut your eyes as if you can hide from the words you’ve said. Eddies fingers caress your face gently. “That’s not silly” he whispers, cupping your face with his big hand. You lean into his comforting touch. “Thankyou”. You whisper, lifting up your hand and placing it on top of his. “You have the most stunning eyes” he mutters before recoiling slightly as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud. “Erm”… he rubs the back of his neck chuckling. “So do you” you say simply. “Ha, thankyou, sweetheart” he laughs awkwardly. The tension in the air hangs between you, you look at Eddie, he looks at you and you think this might be it but then his brows shoot up and he says “Oh my god I didn’t offer you a drink I’m a terrible host” he says suddenly, tripping over himself to get you a soda. “It’s fine! Don’t worry” you assure him. He mutters sorry while he hands you the can and leads you to his room. “So, what would you like to do sweetheart” his grin has returned, and even though he’s asked you you know he’s got something in his mind. “I don’t mind, film?” You say sitting down on his bed pulling your legs up. Eddie stares, completely lost in the moment, watching you do something so ordinary, and you take his breath away. “What?” You ask, burning under his stare. “You’re fucking beautiful” he states. Your heart stops in your chest, mouth falls open and you don’t realise he’s moved closer, he’s sitting opposite you, his hands on your knees, he’s leaning forward slightly, a mix of weed and his aftershave once again enveloping you. You meet his eyes, full of adoration for you, his tongue pokes out to wet his lips and you can’t tear your eyes away. “Can I- kiss you?” He asks and your heart soars as you nod, he crashes his lips to yours and you forget to breathe. The kiss is gentle but firm, he wraps his arm around your waist as he pulls you into him, one hand holds the back of your neck as he runs his long fingers up and down, sending shivers straight to your core. You moan and he stops, panting slightly, he keeps one hand at the back of your neck.

“Eddie” you breathe. “God your incredible” he says, swiping his thumb across your puffy lips, he leans into kiss your neck. He trails sloppy open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone, you writhe underneath him, each press of his lips causing your pussy to throb. “Eddie please” you moan.

‘What do you need sweetheart?” He mutters and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. “You” you plead, clenching your thighs together to get some, any, form of relief.

“Mm, say it again” he groans, fingers waiting at the edge of your joggers. “I need you Eddie” you moan, pushing your hips up to emphasise your point. Mischief dances across his face as he slowly removes your pants, smiling at the wet patch that’s formed in your panties. He taps his fingers across your clothed pussy, watching as your head falls back in both pleasure and frustration. He bends down, breath fanning over your clothed core. “I can’t wait to feel you come around my cock” he whispers, placing an open mouthed kiss over your dripping pussy, before hooking his fingers through your underwear and pulling them down.

Eddie leans over you as his fingers dance on your inner thigh, one hand bracing on the window behind your head. He bends his head, hovering his lips next to your ear” Spread your legs wider for me darlin” he groans, and then smiles as you do. “That’s it” he says, moving his hand toward your core. “So wet” he comments, pushing his finger inside your hole, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your clit. He moans as you clench around his finger instantly. “Mm fuck Eddie” you whine as he curls his finger inside you. He captures you in another kiss as he presses his thumb into your throbbing clit. “Ah, Eddie-“ you say, your orgasm fast approaching, he continues, alternating between circling and pressing on your sensitive button, pleasure begins to cloud your vision as he pumps his finger in and out of you, wetness dripping down your thighs.

“That’s it, good girl, come for me sweetheart” he soothes as your orgasm crashes over. He keeps rubbing gentle circles on your clit as you come down from your high, when you open your eyes he’s staring at you, awestruck. “You did so well for me” he praises and Eddie’s cock twitches in his pants watching your reaction to his words. “Eddie, that was amazing” you breathe, and he shoots a wicked smile at you that has heat flooding your body again.

“You okay”? He checks and you nod. “Drink this” he unscrews the cap on a bottle of water for you and places it to your lips. No one has ever bothered to be anywhere near as kind and considerate and your heart once again soars because of the man currently sitting between your legs. Eddie’s cock is painfully hard in his pants as he takes in your post orgasmic state. Sweat pooled on your face, your still panting slightly, come dripping from your pussy onto his bed, Eddie thinks it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

You sit up and pull him into you, his clothed cock pressing into your naked core. He hisses at the contact. “We don’t have to, it’s completely okay if you want to stop darlin” and once again your falling hard, the softness in his voice makes you want to cry. “I don’t want to stop” you say and Eddie places a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling his pants down. His cock strains against his boxers, you reach out and tease the head with your hand. Eddie groans, it’s feral and he places his hands on your shoulders as he nips at your neck. “Lie down for me sweetheart”. Eddie removes his underwear as you do, He positions himself between your legs as you lie back, head hitting his pillow. You push up to see his hard thick cock springing up against his stomach, precum leaking from the tip, it makes your stomach flip and your mouth water. Eddie pumps his cock a few times before rolling a condom down his cock. Eddie pushes gently on your shoulders so you lie back down, he taps his cock a few times on your pussy causing you to moan unexpectedly. He positions himself at your entrance as his hand cups your face. “You okay?” He asks, waiting for your answer before he does anything. You nod, taking a deep breath as you prepare for Eddie to push into you. “Can you go slow?” You whisper, cringing slightly, hoping you didn’t kill the mood. Eddies face softens, “of course I can baby, it’s okay, I got you” he soothes softly, his other hand rubbing the inside of your thigh. His hand comes to circle your clit slowly. “Look at me” he says, and you do. The smile on his face is otherworldly, it brightens everything around you as he studies your face closely, rubbing gentle circles on your clit as he slowly pushes his cock inside you. “Breathe, baby” he comforts as your walls clench around him. “Eddie” you whine, “You’re doing so good for me” Eddie keeps praising you until his cock is nestled deep inside you. Eddie groans at the feeling of you wrapped around him. He stays put until you speak. “Move” you whisper.

Eddie thrusts into you slowly, one hand gently splayed across your lower stomach as he rocks his hips back and forth, your hands grip the sheets beneath you as Eddie’s cock reaches a spot inside you that makes your head spin.

“Mm eddie- you moan as your second orgasm builds, every nerve in your body tingling at his actions

“You feel so amazing clenching round my cock like this darlin, you’re takin me so well” he soothes, your pussy clenches at his words and Eddie moans as you squeeze his cock. “Fuck Eddie I’m gonna-

Eddie’s cock pulses as he feels you clench harder. “Eyes on me darlin” he whispers. You meet his gaze and your head clouds with pleasure again “Good, I got you, your okay, come for me baby, drench my cock, come with me, fuck!” he groans as your pussy tightens around him as you release around Eddie’s cock just as his own orgasm crashes over him.

Your ears ring as you hear muffled praise fall from Eddie’s lips, his touch grounding you as your mind clears. “You were incredible” Eddie whispers, drawing patterns on your hips with his fingers. You smile at the sight in front of you. “Eddie” you croak, voice hoarse. “Yeah darlin” he asks, and the sight of him, sweaty, curls stuck to his face, his face flushed with heat, you wish you could engrave it into your mind forever. “Can we stay like this forever?” You sigh. And Eddie chuckles before grabbing both your hands and fitting them in his. Forever sounds amazing with you”. He whispers, catching your lips in a heated kiss as fireworks light up the sky above.

[prettyboykatsuki]

✮ tags ; gn!reader, implied bottom reader, semi-erotic and bloody fingersucking, romance, struggling with intimacy on astarions part, not an established relationship fr, 18+

✮ wc ; 1.6k (literally what in the fucking world)

✮ a/n ; *smacks astarions back* you can fit so much projection onto this thing.

canon divergent i.e. this takes place during act two but reader doesn't sleep w astarion in act one. it's explained in da fic.

The taste of intimacy is acrid.

It's bitter and sharp to the senses. In many ways, he finds it unpleasant. Intolerable. He's lost in thought, primarily caught up in the sensation of your skin pressed against his.

Too much, he decides, this entire affair is proving to be too much.

"You know, there's no need for theatrics," He can almost hear the recoil in his own voice, like hiding away into the shadows when dawn approaches. It's instinctive. "All this...poetry is quite thoughtful but very unnecessary."

Yes. Unnecessary. Somehow it feels violent, though it's anything but. You pull away from him and he winces at your expression - genuine confusion draped across your face. Your skin is hotter than the sun, much warmer than his. You're attractive.

Astarion wonders if he can assess you as beautiful. If he's allowed to use something so flowery.

He can't stop thinking about it. He's played the part of a lover before, so kissing and touching in quiet whispers is not unfamiliar. If that's the sort of affair you wish to have, than Astarion can be apart of it no problem. Whatever makes your desire towards him tangible, whatever you want. The last part he doesn't say out loud, or to himself.

But it was real, just a moment ago, wasn't it? The feeling of your lips on his forehead and the crook of his shoulder was real. The words of affection were real. He was looking for fun, debauchery, pleasure.

This is not that, he decides. He decides, too, that he does not like it.

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh don't play dumb, darling," He says, his throat tightening. It's natural to him, in a way. "Though your heroic romantic gestures are quite something, they're very unnecessary. We both know what we're here for, do we not? A little roughing up is fine."

You pause, and you stare. Your eyes are clear, like the water of the open ocean surrounding the lower city. Even in the darkness, he can see you perfectly. You can see him too, but he can't see himself even in the reflection of your gaze. He wonders if that is some kind of mercy, but remembers quickly that no god has ever shown him such kindness.

And you wouldn't either, or you shouldn't. He convinces himself that its a courtesy, and that this conversation is an attempt at honest between you. He's expecting something different. Maybe a snarky laugh of approval, or a widening set of eyes. Lurid with excitement in all the ways you're okay to defile him.

Most people he's laid with have given him the same. They're pleased with his fluidity. He shows it off like he's water in a beautiful chalice, look at all the forms I can take and adore me.

And yet, you're all but silent. What a terrible conversation to have when he's almost inside of you, he thinks.

"If that is what you desire," You says, your words slow. You then, so softly, draw your thumb over his cheek bone. It takes strength not to recoil. He almost wants to mock you. Wants to bite at the gentle caress of your hand, wants to make you bleed. "But I would've hoped my gestures conveyed my feelings a little better than this."

Shit. Shit.

"Feelings? Have you really taken a page out of the wizards book and written me a poem?"

"It would be easy enough to do," You say, so easily and so naturally - he can't help but show that he is startled. Shaken by the sincerity of every word. Bitter. "If you desire such gestures."

A feeling coils in his chest. He cannot distinguish his urges from each other. Whether it is hunger or desire. Whether to push you away or cling to you closer. He cannot make sense of any of it, despite his efforts. He doesn't need any blood, he's sure - but his mind lacks clarity.

Is he afraid or angry? He does not remember how to tell the difference between those two emotions, either.

"We're here for sex, you know?" He says, proactively pushing into old habits. His eyes feel heavy in their sockets, like their weighed by his own need to be desired perfectly. He seduces you easily. Lowers his lids and parts his lips, snakes a hand against your waist and lets you fall forward until you collapse against his chest. "Hot, lecherous, burning pleasure. Such romantics are best saved for..."

You look at him, and you want him. But it is not the same. Even he is not so foolish as to deny something you make so obvious.

"For?"

The words someone you love do not leave his lips, though they threaten to. "Someone more suitable."

"There's no one so suitable as you," You say, and the words do not sound damning. They do not intend to please him. They're not coated in myth or covered in lies. They're like you, honest and rich. "And that pleasure can be found all the same with regards to what I do."

Astarion understands little of you. Never has, in full. He finds your character damning, finds your kindness often irritable. His plan to seduce you had worked, he thought. You had taken some kind of liking to him. Enough that you act against yourself, just to appease him at times. To clumsily win him over by being a little bad, or being silver-tongued.

But you hadn't laid a hand on him despite his efforts. Without taking anything, you shield him from harm. You kill the people who wish to kill him. He'd never stopped trying to seduce you, because it benefits him to play the part of prized possession to the strong.

He thought your acceptance of his request meant you had finally broken. That he could go through with it.

Yet, you touch him like this - as you have been all evening. You brought a bedroll to fuck him in the woods of all places. Your hands are soft, and warm. You're reverent. He's kissed plenty of people, and played lovers even more than that. It was his lifes work, after all.

But it is impossible to deny that you're different, despite his best efforts to believe you are not.

Astarion isn't familiar with your gestures. He cannot hold his ground against honesty when his existence is passing and pleasant - ephemeral as a white lie.

"Astarion," You say, clear. You enunciate his name. It is not intended to have any weight, yet it crushes him. His chest tightens. Aches. It is all so strangely miserable. He wants to interrupt you, but cannot fix his lips to do such a thing "I wish to make love to you. You're welcome to find it unnecessary."

A kiss. Your mouth is warm, and tastes faintly like the sweet wine you had before bed. Your hands cup around his nape, and your other hand keeps you upright. He won't fall for it but his body does not listen, makes him melt comfortably into the bedroll. You kiss and kiss and kiss, and it is well-practiced like you have loved many times before him.

You must know something better than him.

Still. There is not enough strength in his limbs to fight you. His eyes blink open when you've stopped. A scream almost rips from him, but he's frozen in place instead. He can fight now. He could fight this.

The nails he tries to scratch you with, dig deep onto your waist. He closes his eyes. A begging for you to stay.

"Darling, really," His voice cracks. A touch so gentle and unfamiliar may be the thing to flay him open - cut him into pieces and open him up the blackened night sky. His lips feel cracked, hands shaking. "Wholly unnecessary."

There is no way out from this. From his feelings for you. How terrible.

You examine him quietly, then smile like you know everything. He is so much older than you, yet you smile like you've lived one thousand more lives. Maybe you have.

"Astarion," You mumble, your hands finding his hands. You lock your fingers together, your touch making his nerves fire whenever you brush along them. Your free hand ghosts his lips. "Look at me,"

Then, very suddenly, you push your thumb against the point of his fang. It punctures you in no small wound, and you push until the blood spills. You wince, but it's barely there. You let the blood spill into his parted mouth, let the taste of it fetter onto his lips and tongue. It's almost saccharine. He leans up on instinct, latching himself to it. He drinks from your self-inflicted wound with his eyes lidded, with desperation so unsightly.

You don't slink back. You watch onto him fondly. Watch him eat recklessly. Watch him swallow around you.

You already know what he is, he realizes, too late. The weight of your deliberateness nearly buries him. Unpleasant eyes, that know everything about him without any modicum of effort.

The feeling of anxiety, of restlessness well up even deeper inside him. The bitter unforgiving irony of finding intimacy with you lingers still. There is no escaping the thought that it will be you who betrays him first, and not someone else.

But the taste of blood, your blood, washes it all out. The gentle touch of your skin unsettles him as much as it makes him needy. He wants to be adored, and be adored by you.

He wants you in a way that does not incite any instinct. He works against each one trying to look you in the eyes.

When he manages, you are there and you are kind. You want to make love to him. He wants, very desperately, to believe it is possible. That such a ridiculous thing exists outside of a performance.

His voice is soft as a whisper. "I guess it's not impossible to appease you,"

You kiss the corner of his mouth and grin. He doesn't flinch this time.

"I'm quite relieved."

[nuggets-small-corner]

The Perfect Date| Sanji x Reader

Warning: Constant touching (let me know if I miss anything)

Word Count :: 1.1k

Summary: Who would have thought that going on a date with the Straw Hats' cook would be your best date ever.

A/N: I totally wrote this in like 30 minutes because I've been wanting to write something and keep overthinking. Soooooooo, here's me being down bad for Sanji.

Going on a date with Sanji will be the best and most memorable date you will ever go on.

The way he asks you out is not the best way, with the theatrical gesture of him on knee calling you darling and asking you to go on a date with him. However, once you give him that beautiful yes, you see his persona falter for a second as he just simply stares at you in disbelief. You will have to repeat yourself a couple of times before it finally clicks in his head. Once it does, you’re met with the sight of Sanji bouncing around the place and promising to pick you up at 6 o’clock sharp. 

Sanji will show up early, a full 30 minutes early. You will catch him outside with a full bouquet of the prettiest flowers in all the East Blue. His suit will have no wrinkle, not even the wind will be able to deter his sense of style. His soft blonde hair framing his face allows you to see his beautiful grey eyes. He won’t rush you either, he won’t move until 5:59 towards your door because he would never rush a perfect being like yourself.

His introduction is barely hearable through the nosebleed he has as he lays eyes on you. Poetry slips through his mouth and blood as he tries to put into words your beauty. His words will be filled with nothing but passion and love from his heart, with his next gift being the beautiful flowers. You can mention how clique all this feels, but he will make sure you know that this should be the bare minimum someone should be doing to be in your presence. 

If you expected the date to be at one of the local bars or theaters or even a restaurant, you would be extremely wrong. He wants to impress you, to give you a reason on why you should be considering giving him your time. He will hold his arms out and walk you towards his kitchen. A way to a person’s heart is through their stomach.

He will put on almost a display of his cooking talents as he makes you a dish that you’ve never heard of, but he assures you will love it. You get to sit there all prettily as you watch Sanji almost dance around the kitchen going from task to task. He will keep the conversation constantly flowing as he gets to know you without making it feel like a sort of interrogation. His eyes will stare deeply into yours as you talk to make sure you know that even though he is busy, you’re still his main priority. Sanji will make it known that no matter how important the task, you will come as a priority. 

Every so often, Sanji will slide over next to you with a hand on your upper back with a spoon of sauce or ingredient to make you taste. The way he gently places the spoon on the tip of your lips and waits patiently for you to be the one to taste and be the one to move the spoon closer into your mouth. Ignore the blood coming out of his nose, he has a handkerchief in his back pocket for this reason. 

The kitchen will be filled with the most mouth-watering aroma as Sanji puts the final touches on the meal. You might expect him to serve it to you in the kitchen, but he will simply ask you to follow. He will guide you to a cute little table with two chairs that has lit candles flickering away under the starry night. You asked when did he have time to do this if he was in there cooking, all you get is a wink for a response. 

For dinner, he will start to speak more by telling you tales from his adventures out at sea or weird things he saw in the town. Anything to occupy the air allowing you to be entertained as you eat. Sanji’s expression is a constant smile as he watches you eat his cooking made just for you and seeing you enjoy it, if the happy little sighs coming from you are anything to go off. He eats his part while you talk, but the eye contact will never waver. His attention, as it has been the entire night, will be on you and only you.

Once the plates are cleared and your belly is satisfied with Sanji’s meal, he will take you on a nice nightly walk. His hand will find yours throughout the aimless journeys. He will move slow as possible in order to give you time to set a boundary if needed, which he will listen to in a heartbeat. You once again surprise him by quickly interlocking your fingers, giving him the answer he needs. As the walk continues and the conversation turns more carefree, his thumb will rub against you letting you know that he’s right there beside you, even if you aren’t looking at him, he will be there. 

The walk will end up right back at your door. He will lean in close to you before wrapping his arms around you. With you so close to him, he will whisper into your ear nothing less than thanks for spending time with him and for letting him bask in your wonderful self. He will pull away so slow as if it physically hurts him to be away from you. As you’re saying your goodbyes and thanks too, his thumb will be rubbing up and down your arm in a soothing manner. His dark grey eyes will still be on you with a small smile on his lips as he stares at you, still taking you in. 

“I do hope we can do this again, my dear,” he mumbles, looking deeply into your eyes. The cool wind of the night blows across carrying the scent of the ocean along with his cologne. His skin is so warm against yours as all you can do is stare back at him feeling all the love and attention from tonight settle deep within your skin.

“Of course.”

[luveline]

hi hii jade! i hope to not bother u at all but can i ask a request for miguel being with harley quinnfem!reader? like she’s sweet, giddy and a bit girlish but at the same time vicious and extremely violent. maybe miggy likes it a bit too much being with her but gets annoyed seeing her tiny outfit during the mission. u don’t have to do it if u don’t wanna! thank you !!🤍

thank you for your request, i love it!! I'd love to write more for this pairing ♥

—harley quinn-esque fem!reader reports for duty wearing less material than usual, to miguel's misfortune. 1k

"And what," Miguel says, looking you up and down apprehensively, "is the point of that." 

It should be a question, but it doesn't sound like one. He is genuinely shocked by what you're wearing, among other things, and it takes a lot to shock him. Your top half is decent in sense of the word, a skin tight black t-shirt with a pink spider taking perch on your sternum, legs curved over and under the shape of your breasts. Your skort (and it better be a skort, or Miguel is in trouble) is high-waisted and matching in black. A slice of your midriff exposes itself when you move. 

"You don't like it?" you ask, putting on a pout that shouldn't suit you but absolutely does. 

"It doesn't do anything." 

"Well, I figure there's no need to conceal my identity when we're visiting other dimensions," you explain. 

Miguel thinks the thing that irks him most about you is that your sweetness —made up of pretty smiles and girlish whims— is authentic. You tease and twirl, you're prone to dramatics and theatrics alike, but you genuinely are a very loving girl. Especially toward him. 

"It doesn't conceal much of anything." 

"Are you trying to say something mean?" you ask. 

"Depends on your definition." 

"Could you say it in Spanish?" you ask.

"Why?" He crosses his arms across his chest, looking down his nose at you in a look he hopes says you aren't half as subtle as you think. 

"Please, Miguel." You frame your face in two hands, long, naked lengths of your arms shining with a shimmery lotion in the laboratory lighting. "Indulge me." 

Don't I always? he thinks. "Depende de cual sea tu definición," he says. "Tu atuendo es más cruel que cualquier cosa que pueda decir." Your outfit is crueller than anything I can say.

"I hear 'cruel,'" you say, "but surely you can't be talking about me?" 

"The portal's ready," Margo says, a purple image in the corner of his eye. 

"Thank you, Spider-Byte," he says, nudging you toward the platform. For the work and the end of a dangerous conversation.

You rush up onto it and Miguel follows, ignoring the spin you make with your face turned up, watching as the portal begins to form around you, orange fractals that lock you in. 

You project from one place to the other. It's best to take a running start, and there's yards to be traversed until you meet the rendezvous point. 

"Where's the Vulture?" you ask excitedly.

"Around. Watch out, he might have Tinkerer with him." 

"Two for the price of one!" 

You stretch your arms up high, exposing your stomach, fine hair shimmering in the sunshine. Miguel's annoyed because he's weak enough to be distracted, but he'd rather blame you. 

"The point of your suit was to keep you safe," he says. "I designed it to protect you." 

"I like my skirt much more," you say, spinning again. 

So does Miguel. He looks up into the sky with a scowl, confused as to where the Vulture and his henchmen are. They're supposed to be right here, which can only mean— 

You leap for Miguel with your baton extended, the little heart sceptre piece atop of it striking the Vulture square in the jaw as the villain descends. With a spatter of blood, a shining white tooth flies across the open air, and you love it. You shake with excitement, his hands against your ribs to stop you from falling. 

"Yes!" you cry, jumping out of his arms and whacking the Vulture again. You're lucky: you manage to hit him in the eye as he retreats, prompting an outraged and pained scream that shakes the trees surrounding. "You suck!" You batter him like he's a pear under your pestle. 

"Y/N, that is more than enough," Miguel chastises, though the sight of you satisfied and in control is one that twists his guts. 

"Box him in, Miguel!" you call, blood dripping down the sceptre and onto your bare hands. 

"Woah." A third voice echoes as feet touch down to the ground, the wet thwap of webbing like an anchor, the Tinkerer deposited at Miguel's feet. "Who the hell are you guys?" asks Spider-Man.

"It's hard to explain," you say. 

"It's not," Miguel says. 

"Is she… on our side?" Spider-Man asks, eyes of his suit widening with a mechanical clicking. 

"When she wants to be." 

"I'm definitely on Miguel's side!" you say, raising your baton to give the downed Vulture another whack. He groans and raises his hands. You giggle at the fear on his face and twirl your baton around in a circle above your head. "Just kidding." 

"Y/N, come here. Now." He wouldn't be so forward in his command if you weren't as prone to ignoring him as you are. 

You traipse to his side, putting your hands on your hips to mimic him. 

"That was quick, huh?" you ask, looking up into his face. No matter your act, he can see the want for approval in your eyes. 

"Eres muy linda," he says. You're very cute. 

"What does that mean?" you ask, eager for praise. 

"You did great," he says. 

"I think you're lying," you say, and his heart skips as you lean into his space with a knowing smile, "'muy' means I did really great, right?" 

"Actually–" Spider-Man begins. 

Miguel waves a hand at him. "You did really great," he confirms. He doesn't need Spider-Man telling on him.

"And I didn't need all that extra protection after all," you say, sliding under his arm. 

Miguel doesn't react. The Vulture groans and Spider-Man hits him with a web to make sure he doesn't get far. 

"You like it really," you whisper.

Miguel glares at you. Of course he likes it. He just hates how much danger you're potentially putting yourself in. He double hates the appreciative up and down Spider-Man gives you when he thinks no one's looking.

"You have blood in your hair," Miguel says. 

"You can wash it out for me." 

He takes a calming breath. 

"Hey, guys? Do you mind explaining what the hell is going on here?" Spider-Man asks. 

You both ignore him for different reasons, you with an adoring smile sent Miguel's way, and Miguel with a long-suffering sigh as he summons a temporary entrapment for the bloodied Vulture and his squirming lacky.  

[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

TFA X ROTTMNT crossover imagine Idea:

What if back when Splinter was Lou Jitsu he got spirited away in the TFA universe as a cybertronian thanks to a magical artifact long time ago before the first autobots-decepticons War, became a Gladiator against his will, meet Megatron and end up becoming "Friends" with him, build himself a reputation among Cybertronians and became a Well known History figure After managing to get his Freedom back and managed to get all the other Gladiator, Megatron included, free?

What if years After Lou Jitsu managed to get back to his universe and the ROTTMNT canon happen the turtles found the Magic artifact, end up in the TFA universe turned into cybertronians and two of them are warframes while the other two are civilframe?

I got way into this AU crossover the more I wrote about it and I just want to say that you, my friend, are a genius for coming up with it.

-Lou Jitsu's alter ego when he was a cybertronian was Splinter. Yeah, I'm basic like that. His alt mode would have been either a jet or a race car though I'm a bit partial to him having a car alt mode, simply because I could really see him turning into some flashy 80's sport car.

-Becoming a really popular gladiator not only for his fighting skills but also for bringing in his theatrics to the ring. They don't know that but whenever he wants to seem cool he says a one liner from one of his movies. The crowd ate it up every time. He's also really handsome as a bot so he's got a ton of fans.

-Ok but wouldn't be really cool if Splinter kinda revolutionized the cyber-ninja scene??? Like, up until his appearance it had kinda stagnated but when he shows up and shows up his amazing moves all the cyber-dojos go "YOOOOOO, THAT'S FUCKING AWESOME" and he basically starts the cyber-ninja renaissance. He also probably gets offered to become the leader of his own dojo but he declines the offer because he doesn't wanna abandon his new gladiator-buddies.

-Young Yoketron being his pupil??? Showing up one day like Genos in One Punch man and begging for Splinter to become his master??? YOKETRON YELLING "HOT SOUP" EVEN THOUGH HE HAS NO IDEA WHAT IT MEANS???

Prowl: Master, is it true that you trained under the master Splinter?

Yoketron: Yes, my pupil, I indeed did.

Prowl: Amazing, I've heard so much about him. What was he like?

Yoketron: He was... very wise. *flashback to Splinter forgetting how to use his brakes while in alt mode and crashing into a wall*

-Also, as for the brothers, if two of them are warframes then I imagine it being Raph and Leo. Raph because, well, he's built like a brick, it makes sense, and Leo because his weapons are the most lethal, made to kill. Also, Raph would be a tank while Leo would be a jet. Meanwhile, Donnie's alt mode would be like a microscope/telescope or something while Mikey would be a racer, either a motorcycle or a race car. I just want Mikey to have wheels on his pedes and rollerblade around while fighting.

-I also want some cyber-ninja dojo to 'discover' Mikey's talents, both as a ninja and spiritually, and taking him in. And Mikey can't tell them the truth, that he's already trained, so he has to pretend to be a newbie but instead he comes off as an actual genius, a prodigy only seen once every eon (he is a prodigy though so they're not too far off). Mikey shows them his 'magic hands' and the old coots practically faint.

-Meanwhile, Donnie gets similarly 'discovered' by the autobot Ministry of Science when they take notice of his remarkable intelligence and honestly? Donnie eats up the attention and praise. Perceptor and Wheeljack are fighting over who gets to mentor him and Donnie just does "Gentlemen, please, the answer is obvious; You both teach me everything you know. I want to know it all."

-Splinter, after becoming a mutant, turns into a cybertronian again but he looks really different so no one recognizes him. He's a beast-former now with a rat alt mode, about the height of Bumblebe (maybe even shorter). He kinda radiates this mystical air though, only perceivable to those with more spiritual senses, like Prowl.

Edit: Added some ideas of what Bot-Splinter would look like, both before and after mutating.

[theladyofbloodshed]

Final chapter/epilogue - Thank you to everybody who has read this little fic of Lucien whisking Nesta away from the shackles of the Night Court <3

The week of absence that Nesta had requested dragged its heels and lasted an eternity. When the new day dawned, Jurian appeared like a spectre in the doorway, unkempt hair hanging about his chin.

‘Today’s the day, Vanserra.’

Lucien shrugged in response, not giving him the satisfaction of yes, it was that day and yes, every single minute had been agony wondering over her wellbeing.

‘I need to head to the Dawn Court to speak with Thesan,’ he said, attempting to breeze by, but Jurian’s arm blocked off the doorway.

‘Don’t fuck about. You’ve given her a week like she asked.’

He heaved out a sigh then removed Jurian’s arm from his way. ‘I am not at Nesta’s every beck and call. Yes, it has been a week. It does not mean that I need to run like a lap dog to her side.’

The words settled around them then Jurian let out a calloused laugh, fingers tapping on the door frame.

‘But you absolutely want to.’

‘Yes, I do. But I won’t.’

Before the wretched mortal could get another word in, Lucien cantered down the stairs. He hurried to put his boots on, but – as always – Jurian was there, again. An ever-looming presence who haunted his steps in their manor.

‘You have the swiftness of the fae.’

‘And no doubt the same annoyingness.’ Jurian smirked. ‘Go to her.’

‘Later,’ he waved away.

‘Oh.’

‘Oh?’

Jurian gave a theatrical nod. ‘Playing hard to get.’

He was not. Or maybe he was a little. Maybe it was fear that he’d go to Nesta and she’d regret every choice and demand to be back with Cassian. Or she’d look at him with disgust after an absence because she’d come to her senses.

‘I have to go to the Dawn Court,’ he said curtly.

‘If I could winnow, I’d be there,’ said Jurian. ‘I’ll steal her from you.’

‘She’s not mine,’ Lucien reminded him.

He stepped out of the front door, ready to winnow away when Jurian called, ‘Isn’t she?’

The day sped away quicker than Lucien would have liked, leaving little time to prepare himself. Strictly speaking, he wasn’t a nervous person. One could not be nervous around Beron Vanserra because he’d sniff out the weakness to exploit. Nerves of steel were forged in the fires of the Autumn Court as a means of survival.

And still, Lucien found reasons to delay his departure from the Dawn Court. A new shop had him enthralled; a stranger striking up conversation had him hooking his claws in to prolong it. Eventually, it came to travelling to Summer or returning to the mortal lands where Jurian would be waiting. If the male wasn’t stood on the door step, expectantly, then Lucien would drop down dead in shock. No, he could find his courage to face Nesta.

The strong smell of the sea washed over him as his boots sank into the sand. The heat had him peeling off his jacket and slinging it over his shoulder on crooked fingers. Nesta’s home loomed before him, making his palms sweat. He couldn’t fathom why. They had parted on amicable terms. Her request for privacy had been respected. But what if she hadn’t meant a literal week, she’d meant longer? She was fae now. What was a week compared to eternity? Would she push away his attempts at contact, wanting a fresh life without the baggage of her past?

His knuckles were light upon the door. A ghost of a knock so that he could walk away if she did not answer him. He listened for footsteps – for the scurry of feet to abruptly stop when she recognised his outline through the thick, frosted glass beside the door.  

Nesta was not home.

Perhaps she’d left the day he’d brought her to the Summer Court. Maybe she had forgotten that he was to come again after a week had passed, her life in Summer already more interesting than the one an exiled prince of Autumn could offer her.

Lucien put his hands in his pockets and turned to leave.

‘Lucien.’

Her voice carried on the air, startled and commanding all at once.

Nesta stood on the peak of a sand dune, grains of sand running like a river beneath her bare feet. She wore a dress that was completely unlike her favoured ones from the Night Court. Instead of steely grey or frosty blue, it was a pastel yellow that matched her fair skin. It was long but thin for the hot weather, the sleeves rolled up past her elbows and the skirts ready to billow in the breeze. There was a bracelet around her wrist. Threads of blue, crimson and silver braided together. The coronet was there, of course, but it seemed loose like she’d had a busy day and it was unravelling itself ready for the night.

He met her on the sand, his clothes not suited for it. They stopped before each other, suddenly strangers.

‘How are you?’ he said.

Just as she said, ‘It’s nice to see you.’

A small smile curved her lips. Lucien had never seen her this way – like an enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She stood straighter, easier, rather than the steel-spine she built to cope.

‘Would you like to come in?’

Lucien peeled his tongue from the roof of his mouth. ‘If it isn’t too much hassle.’

‘I thought you’d come this morning. I was waiting for you,’ she said, blushing slightly. ‘I have employment now. Sort of. So I went there. I left a note on the door, if you arrived. I only popped out now to look for shells while the tide is out.’ Nesta held open the door, ushering him in. Her cheeks had turned a beautiful shade of scarlet. ‘I’m talking too much.’

It was not too much. It was nice to hear her voice. Hear her speak freely and not guard her words or pick them apart into something the Night Court would find more palatable.

‘You look well,’ he said, gesturing to the slight tan on her face. It had brought out the freckles upon her nose. Ones he’d never known she possessed. ‘It makes you look like Feyre.’

‘Without the tattoos. Or the horrid husband.’

Nesta poured glasses of orange juice for them both then took a seat at the small table opposite him. It was a humble home, but a good beginning. Evidence of Nesta was littered about the place: shells lined up on the windowsills; a book on the arm chair and another three in a stack on the floor; a bowl was built up with oranges and towered precariously in the middle.

‘Is there an abundance of oranges in the Summer Court?’

‘We never could afford fruit when we were poor. There are trees near here for anybody to pick the fruits from. I cannot stop making orange juice, Lucien,’ she said in that severe way of hers, like it was a crime. ‘They all grow back within a day. I’ll strip an entire branch of pistachio nuts and they’re back by the morning. One night, I sat here and said it’s just like magic.’

Lucien laughed at that.

‘I didn’t know magic could do things like grow crops. It seems so simple but I’d only ever seen it for destruction, as something to be feared.’

He gave a nod. ‘It works best here - and to a degree in Spring and Autumn. The solar courts can’t harness the magic in the same way; their powers are suited to other avenues. Winter, well, it’s just ice and snow. They have to import most of their fresh goods from Summer or us.’ He blinked. ‘Autumn, I mean.’

‘How are you?’

The words hung between them. What could Lucien say? His life had existed as normal. The new normal that he had created since leaving Spring. But a part of it felt empty like there was still room in the jar for something else.

‘Fine,’ he said, with a nod to emphasise that fact. ‘All fine. Jurian misses you.’

The corners of her mouth twitched. ‘The sentiment is shared.’

Nesta pulled a tray of cake from the oven. It had been sliced into little rectangles and drizzled with icing. A few pieces had already been eaten.

‘I’m not much of a baker,’ she explained. ‘But I was expecting company, so I tried.’

Lucien shook himself. ‘Sorry. I can go.’

Her fingers slid around his wrist, tethering them together. ‘You. I mean you.’

‘Oh.’ Lucien leaned back in his chair, Nesta’s hand still touching his. ‘Thank you.’

‘You won’t say that when you try it,’ she replied, in that dry way of hers. ‘But I thought it was fitting. You helped to open my eyes through the power of sugar.’

They sipped at their orange juice and nibbled at cake. It wasn’t bad like she’d made out. Airy and light, basic but delicious. A zing of lemons punched through the icing and before Lucien could even ask, she said, ‘I cannot stop picking lemons either. I'm hoarding them all like a dragon. I do not think lemons make for good jam though.'

‘You like it here?’

‘It’s nice to have my own space. Cresseida has been once to see how I’ve settled. And I have employment.’

‘Sort of,’ he echoed.

Nesta dipped her chin, hiding a smile. ‘Sort of. There’s a male in the house on the hill,’ she said, pointing in a vague direction over his shoulder. ‘He’s a cartographer. I cannot draw, but I scribe for him. I read his letters and write them in return to clients. I write on the maps – the directions, landmarks. That sort of thing.’

‘That sounds like employment.’

She shrugged. ‘He gives me coin, but I don’t do it for that. He’s interesting company.’

A feeling of betrayal roiled through Lucien’s gut as he imagined Nesta becoming cosy friends with an interesting male from Summer.

‘He’s almost a thousand years old,’ she said, eyes widening. ‘And he’s lesser fae – his mother was a water nymph. You must meet him; he has the most wonderful stories.’

Some of his panic loosened. The male was triple his age. He imagined paper-thin skin and webbed fingers, weakening eyes that were grateful for a kind female assisting him with his work.

They took a walk along the beach as the sun started to set. The warmth was glorious enough that Lucien was tempted to curl upon the sand and nap like a cat beneath the golden light. Nesta went barefoot, discarding her shoes in her home before they went. There was something about that gesture that had him breathing with relief. She was at home here. Comfortable. Relaxed. He did the same and rolled up his trousers to his knees to walk through the shallows.

‘I am trying not to feel angry,’ Nesta said as she held a shell up to examine. ‘At how much they didn’t teach me. About magic. Faeries. Lesser ones. A little creature popped out of the waves one day and asked for my shell. It had huge ears and eyes like saucers, its fingers long and gnarled. I could only stare at it in shock – then it called me rude and dived back into the water.’

Lucien laughed at her story. ‘A vodnik. You’re lucky it wasn’t a hob because they hold a grudge for life if they’re offended.’

Nesta stared incredulously. ‘I don’t even know what a hob is. My history of the fae comes from mortal stories and whatever the Night Court told me. I am alone here with only my thoughts for company, Lucien. How can it be that Rhysand cannot stop the Illyrians from maiming their females? He could enforce the ban – clip their wings in return – and lose his army. More and more, I’m picking apart everything they told me and seeing the holes they tried to hide.’

He nodded, letting her talk.

‘There have to be more like Morrigan. More in the Hewn City who want release, who dream of a better life.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t understand it. Maybe one day my sisters will see it too.’

The Night Court had cultivated its reputation for millennia, not solely in the five decades beneath the mountain where Rhysand stood at Amarantha’s side.

‘I feel for Gwyn and Emerie. I miss them too. But I can’t go back there. I won’t. The bond needs to be severed. I've never been more sure of anything.’

With more daring than he felt, Lucien settled his arm around Nesta’s shoulder in understanding and comfort. As if she had been hoping for it, she eased out a sigh and stopped walking. Her body leaned in close, her warmth matching his.

‘Thank you, Lucien, for saving me.’

‘You saved yourself.’

Nesta tittered. ‘You reached for my hand.’

He turned his face slightly to look at her. The sun was splintering in shards of gold across her face. She was so beautiful. They were different people on the surface; he liked to be amongst many, loved to meet new people whereas Nesta was more reserved, happy to retreat to her own sanctuary. Yet, Lucien could not help but feel like they balanced each other. Perhaps balance meant more than equality. Hadn’t she sought out her own company here in the way that suited her?

He ran his knuckles along her cheek. The Nesta Archeron that he’d met away from Velaris had been so very different from the one that was whispered about in the House of Wind. She wasn’t rude or selfish. Nesta was capable of showing teeth, but only when provoked. Didn’t everyone have a right to defend themselves?

‘I missed you.’

It came from her as a whisper, an admittance of weakness even. Nesta tilted forwards so her forehead met his lips as if begging him to kiss her there. He did. He’d kiss her wherever she wanted in every moment.

He held onto her while the waves lapped across their feet.

‘Can I see you again next week?’

Nesta’s hand slipped against his hip then curved around his back. ‘A week is too long.’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘Tomorrow,’ she vowed, tipping her face up to him.

Lucien met her there, fingers tilting her face to deepen the kiss. ‘We’ll pick oranges together,’ he said between kisses. ‘And lemons.’ Another kiss. ‘Pistachios. Whatever you want.’

‘And when my teeth fall out?’

Lucien kissed her again, unable to stop himself. ‘I’ll still love you.’

‘You will love me?’

‘I love you,’ he confirmed, kissing the tip of her nose. ‘I’ll never love you less – only more. Only more.’

His arm slid to the back of her knees to lift her into his arms. Their steps were made slow by the soft sand slipping through his toes and punctuated by kisses. Nesta curled against his body, a smile pressing into her lips.   

‘I’ll take you to the Continent,’ he whispered between kisses. ‘To Rask. To wherever you want to go.’

Nesta kissed the scar on his face. ‘As long as it’s with you.’

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

Which of the Gotham rogues do you think would be into marking their partner? Which ones do you think are more into PDA and showing off their partner, and which ones are more private?

Would love to hear your HCs for all of them ❤️.

"Showing off" Rogues Party

OH HELLO? MARKING AND PDA HM? Sorry this took so long, but better late than never!

TW: NSFW, marking, degradation, somnophilia, biting, knife play, needle play, collars, spanking

Riddler

Somewhere mid- on the scale of marking. He enjoys it, but it's not a necessary kink for him. In the case of his partner being into marking and encouraging him, he would get into a lot of theatrics for it. Talking sweet and dirty to you as he leaves an imprint of his teeth. Taking a green sharpie and writing a question mark on your hip because he thinks he's cute.

One thing that would get him going is seeing the imprint of ropes or ties on you. Nothing that cuts into you deeply, but seeing those marks after a session of tying you up... the intricacies of patterns pressed into your skin, even if it's brief. He wants to drag his lips across it.

He's obnoxiously into PDA. Despite the fact that he doesn't like touching by anyone else, he's terrible about it when it comes to you- Unless you ask otherwise. Taking a moment just to kiss you, not caring who sees. Hanging off of you when you're talking to someone else. See, everyone who thought he was too annoying and made up his partner, here they are! In the flesh! He's making sure everyone knows you're dating. And that anyone who tries to get at him through you will encounter a fate worse than death :)

Penguin

Oswald likes biting- HOWEVER, it's a ton of light grazing because his teeth are actually sharp and he doesn't want to hurt you. Plus, he likes your skin as it is. Light scars but nothing that will stay longer than a couple weeks. He will dirty talk it up though in the heat of the moment.

He'll pick out your outfits and things that have an obvious insignia or "Cobblepot colors" of white, black and purple. Garter stockings/thigh harness with jewelry he bought you that people can only see when you flash your leg a certain way. If nothing else, he'd ice you out with a choker if that's more your thing. He would also pay for a tattoo- nothing crazy, but a symbol on your thigh or hip that's meant to represent him.

Showing off his partner is part of the deal. He's an incredibly public figure and he doesn't intend on hiding the fact that someone really cares about him. That and the fact that you fuck. His hands linger over your ass or thighs in a way that tells everyone else you're taken, which is a form of marking on it's own. He also likes public sex or at minimum public messing around, even if he would make sure to cover you up if you were ever caught.

Mad Hatter

IRONICALLY, for him being as kinky as he is, he wouldn't like marking with his teeth or hands. Into marking in the sense of clothing. Matching decor- themes. You two walk into a room and it's obvious you are Together. If he ever did mark your skin in a lasting way, he'd be the first one to kiss it. Terribly sorry, dear, he couldn't help it. You're far too lovely for him to resist. It would turn into a praise session for how beautiful you are.

The ONLY exception to not liking to leave marks is with somnophilia and even then, he'd ask you first if it was okay/part of the play for you. Him being so cautious to not even wake you up, using your body to his whims and the only sign when you wake up is a pleasant soreness and little marks on your hips or thighs.

Yes and no. He wants people to know the two of you are together but he does have a sense of being chaste in public. If you initiate, he'll gladly reciprocate the affection you give him. The clothing mentioned would likely be enough to clue people in, anyways. If someone made him jealous or got too close to you, however, he'd suddenly get a lot touchier and in your space. He likes the idea or perception of him being a gentleman despite his dabbling in psychedelics and mind control.

Scarecrow

The psychological effects of marking alone makes it a fascinating thing for Jonathan. I've mentioned it before, but sex to him is yet another avenue to analyze you and your mind through behavior. What satisfaction does it give you to be "owned" by him? To have other people see that you're "his" by the marks he leaves upon your skin? It's a very fun thing for him to sink his teeth into, metaphorically and literally.

Usually his idea of marking is using his nails on your skin, leaving scratches that bloom in light inflammation after the moment is gone. Lines he can run his fingers over in the following days. It doesn't show to anyone besides him really, but he's also fond of spanking. Leaving little marks by his hands or a tool that you'd have to wiggle in front of a mirror or get a photo of to see.

Not big on PDA. This is a man who grew up having to hide a lot of facets about himself so he wouldn't be a target to bad things. Then it was the second persona of the Scarecrow. He's very private in the day to day outside of certain people. You'd find he's much more likely to kiss you in front of fellow rogues, for example. He would get you something small as a gesture to show off your "engagement" i.e. relationship to him, however, a small ring, necklace or a bracelet sort of thing.

Music Meister

He would feel bad. He sees that he gave you a bruise on your thigh when he grabbed you in bed and he's apologizing when he sees it. He has an incredibly soft and romanticized idea of sex so he doesn't try to get rough in the first place. You'd have to ease him into it and make it a sort of scenario. He'd be careful still, but you might get something out of it. Reassure him it's alright and that you like it.

A type of marking he would do, though, without much prompting, is physical marker writing. Ticking off the amount of times he's made you moan on your thighs. A little note here or there for you to find later. A song lyric because he has ADHD and got distracted- well. You shouldn't be shocked.

PDA and showing off, though? He's making an entire musical number to announce your arrival. Clarence is having you in dance routines for his heists. Everyone is going to know that you are together. If you were looking for privacy, you should not have gone for the theater kid. Lots of public kissing, hand holding and his arm around your body.

Victor Zsasz

ooooooo fucking boy.

#1 the guy you would look at for marking. If you can handle the fact that he's a freak and not really a nice guy, he'll mark you every which way you can imagine. Literal markers, his hands, his nails, his teeth, needles, knives, actually carving his initials into you- If you're game, he'll do it. Make you bleed while making sure you're not passing out on him or getting too injured. He'd "mark" his gun or knife handle by fucking you with it so he's always got "you" around when he's working.

Would write "cum dump" on your abdomen with drawn hearts if you're into that. He'll even take pictures of you like that, bound and gagged and stuffed with his cum for a spank bank later. If you've ever seen the intricate "needle art" some people will do (with sterile equipment), he would. If you don't at least have a couple bruises after going with him, he doesn't think he's properly fucked you.

He's... disgusting, really. He'll spit in your mouth in public to show off how good you are for him if you'd allow it. Collar and a leash, make you pant on his leg and beg for it. In more refined, appropriate settings, he would push it by huffing about wanting a kiss. In certain crowds he'd be more private for your protection. Because in his own twisted little way, he does care.

Killer Croc

Marking is something he got into over the years because it's very difficult for him not to mark up a partner by accident. It took a while to get there emotionally/psychologically since it definitely fed into this fear of him being a monster that only hurts people. Then as the condition got worse, people generally lost interest unless they had a fetish which just... no. As he came to acceptance with his entire thing, the marking kink sort of fell into place.

Yet, he's still careful as he drags his claws up the plush of your thighs, holding you close to kiss him. It's not terribly hard for him to make someone bleed, after all. Where it might be more difficult to restrain himself funny enough, is if his partner is holding all the control and he gets REALLY in the moment. You could be ordering him around, he's with it, and he's also biting your shoulder hard enough to leave a blemish.

He doesn't dislike PDA, but he won't really initiate. There isn't a particular reason for it. It's just not really his style. He thinks it's really cute if you want to hang off his arm or kiss him around other people, though. It's very validating for him. One way or another, people are going to know the two of you are together if it's by conversation or him playfully hoisting you on his shoulder as you head home.

Harley Quinn

It's actually not a kink of hers, it's rather something that just kind of happens because she gets really enthusiastic. If anything, she winces if she sees too many bruises on you, kissing softly as a way of showing her apologies. There was a time she loved seeing those on her own body because of what they meant- Now it's a grim reminder. Side note: if you guys play spar it's a slight exception, this is related specifically to sex/romantic relationship things.

That all being said, she adores being with you and pretty much all displays of affection being with you. It's not shocking to literally anyone who ever saw her when she was with the Joker. She has a penchant for pet names and grandiose gestures of her affection. She's the one who walks up to a carnival game and the guy working there thinks they'll take her money- and she walks away with the biggest stuffed animal for you.

Sometimes you'll look over at her when you're out together and you'll notice she's just looking at you with hearts in her eyes. Holding you and being held by you in those movie theaters where you can push up the arm rests. Sharing a drink and food. Everyone in Gotham knows.

Poison Ivy

Only likes it in the sense of rough play. Similar to Harley, doesn't aim for it. Just happens. Bruises from being bound. Scratches from messing about around her plants or her perfect nails. Doesn't really use her teeth for much, however. Given how her saliva can have an effect on people even when she doesn't mean to via an oral route, she would not want to risk it getting into your bloodstream. It's a "just in case" safety precaution.

The exception to intentional marking is if it's part of dominating play and it's something her partner is seeking out. Even then, it's more about clothing to put you in a position of "hers". For example, collars, clothing with tight straps, etc etc. You want people to know you're hers, baby? Why don't you tell them yourself?

Yes and no on PDA. When someone is under her thrall, she loves big displays because it shows the power she has over them. With you, her partner, she's actually more demure. A small kiss on the cheek or the lips, pulling you close and holding your hand as you walk in the park. She has a thing for sex outside or at least in nature, but she tends to pick areas that are more secluded to prevent people from peeking in. If anyone asks, however, she'll never deny you're her person. Let there be no doubt about that.

Two-Face

Complicated. Harvey still struggles with it because in his mind, that's something horny teenagers or early 20-somethings do. It's not professional, it's could be potentially embarrassing for your partner. Sure, it's fun in the moment but- Harv is already telling him to shut up, it's hot. It's a sign of passion, of wanting someone so bad your teeth mark them because you could devour them whole! Who wouldn't be into that?!

If Harvey got into it, it would be things you can easily hide under your clothing. Hickeys and little bruises where his hands held tightly. He feels... kind of naughty doing it? It's fun, though! Harv dives full-force into it, intentionally leaving little marks where he knows it'll drive Harvey's boy scout routine crazy. They both like seeing it on your body, there's just a disagreement on admitting it.

Something they can both agree on 100%, however, is showing you off as their partner. Clothing that has a "duality" theming to it so you match with them. A hand that depending on the current controller is high on your back or dancing low just above the curve of your ass, fingers resting in the hip dip. Sometimes they like to steal kisses when you least expect it, just so others can see your reaction go from surprise to a warm smile.

Black Mask

He'd make you show other people or, at minimum, tell you to wear things that would show off exactly where he marked you up. Teeth marks, hickeys, bruises, the occasional knife play- It gets him off to watch you pull up your shirt or skirt to show off something he's done to your body. Like it's a badge of honor to have Roman Sionis leave a reminder on you of your past transgressions.

Collars. He will get you a collar for every different occasion and outfit if you want. It doesn't have to strictly be a collar, either. Just something you wear that everyone sees as his "ownership" over you. If you guys have gotten to a serious note, he wouldn't mind matching tattoos, either. Something small and subtle on your hands or wrist. After all, you're together for the rest of your natural lives, right? It's not like it's that different from a wedding ring.

He would have sex in public or at least around other people if you were down, if that answers your question. He'll kiss you, grope you, pull you into his lap whenever it pleases him. It could be egregious enough that someone might be confused that you're just a toy for gratification vs something serious. He'd knock the teeth out of anyone who said that about you around him.

Mr. Freeze

Unintentional when he marks up his partner. Yet when he kisses for a lingering amount of time... there is a frost build up. It's certainly not permanent- it's like a powder of fresh snow was left on your shoulder. Even if he was into it, per say, he would worry about intentionally trying to mark a partner with his own body. Given his condition that could lead to skin or even muscle damage!

He's certainly more private, but he's not against PDA. A lot of how he shows affection is just subtle and not about physical touch. Ensuring you're bundled up while in his work space that inevitably gets frozen over. You're eating all your meals and when you're sick you can rest.

People are going to know you're with him without "showing off" simply because it's apparent that he cares for you. For one, he actually keeps you around. Two, if anything threatened to get between you, he'd be getting suddenly very hostile...

Ra's al-Ghul

Actively against PDA and showing you off. Getting handsy and kissing a lot in public makes you a target. It paints him as someone with a very visible weak point. Marking would be something private. Only you can see it, i.e. it's under the clothing. So writing, a stray scratch or bruise- Having very apparent signs that the two of you fuck or that you "belong" to him in a sense, however, is different.

For one thing, you are either in his quarters or directly next to him. If you ever go out without him, you have a trail of spies behind you for your protection. Some might say it's like living in a gilded bird cage. To others it's a significant show of respect and intimacy that the incredibly secretive Ra's al-Ghul wants you to know him inside and out.

You will wear clothing that is befitting to your status as his partner. Golden jewelry, either an arm band or something around the neck- green like his robes for any gemstones. He'll kiss the skin as he puts these pieces on you himself. Much of this isn't marking in the "traditional" sense, but people will surely know that you are his partner.

Bane

On the fence. On one end, he doesn't want to like it because he's not the brute that people want to think he is. His entire identity is not that of a violent criminal despite what the world has made him. And yet... there is something visually pleasing about seeing a sign of where he's been along your skin. It's not dissimilar to shows of strength with you. Little bruises where you asked him to go rougher, to grab you tighter. A slight indent of his teeth on your shoulder.

Other than that, he does not like the idea of hurting you. Anything where he's intentionally marking you up is off the table. He doesn't really go for fashion. He doesn't want to write on you (it feels strangely disrespectful to him). Asking him to cause you harm (even minor and in play) is an incredible turn-off.

He likes being affectionate in public, however, he is strict on when and where. He works with dangerous people. He has a mind for strategy- you could be another pawn piece for someone if the two of you are too affectionate in the wrong crowd. Amongst his true peers or, say, your family or friends? Completely different, he's kissing your neck to make you laugh and hugging you close.

[izzyspussy]

i actually think somewhat slightly opposite-ish of this post.

ed wants to show off. he absolutely does love having proof that he's desirable, wanted, and loved. and taken, in multiple senses of the word lmao. and he's definitely not shy, not embarrassed, doesn't particularly want to be private about it, or any of that. but i think he's very aware of the fact that he is not great with boundaries, that he can - as they say - Forget Himself. and while he and stede know each other a lot better now and are more honest with themselves and each other, no longer seeing each other as or trying to fit into the perfect idealized shape of Gentleman and Pirate (either one in either role), there are still some lingering clingy little holdovers from that. so on that hand, ed is not sure how much showing off is Too Much. if stede will be off-put or embarrassed by him if he crosses some invisible line from tasteful into trashy. and i also think there's this other hand where ed wants to show off, but just ever so slightly more than that (in the context of his relationship), he wants to be shown off.

meanwhile, stede has always been put down for not being good enough or strong enough or masculine enough and he was married to a woman who didn't want him and who he was at least something of an embarrassment to, and he's used to being passed over and belittled and neglected, and to having a lot that he doesn't want and nothing that he does, and being shamed for both. and! at the same time he's still every bit as up himself as any other wealthy white guy lmao, and he's deeply, deeply, apocalyptically theatrical lmfaooo. anyway, point being. now that he has something to brag about that actually really does stroke his ego, rather than just being the only thing(s) he's got to try to make people respect him (in the only way he was brought up to understand "respect"), he will absolutely take literally any opportunity to do that. put together all his measuring-up issues, the fact that he fully and completely believes ed to be the most beautiful and gorgeous and sexy and impressive and perfect and very best man to ever live, his eagerness to make ed believe that too or at least believe stede believes it now that he knows that's an issue, the fact that ed's blush and ed's smile and ed letting him dress him or change his hair or put his hands on him makes him feel more powerful than god, his indelible smug richboy attitude, and his own utter lack of boundaries, and you get a man who cares not one whit what marks on him are showing but will go completely out of his way to make sure everyone sees the marks he's left (or any other clear indication that ed - yes that ed, that one right there - is his).

so, in my head, the scene in front of lucius and his iced coffee goes more like stede dressed completely normally and ed with his hair partway up and his collar tastefully open, clearly trying to show off a little bit but trying not to overdo it (which is just as clearly not coming naturally to him lmaooo). and then stede saying something or other about ed looking uncomfortable or having a hair out of place in a voice that could not possibly be more disingenuous, and reaching over to pull ed's hair all the way up and brush his fingers improprietously over the marks on ed's neck he's purposely revealing on his way down to undo a couple more buttons on ed's shirt, then turning to lucius with vanity so palpable it crunches (as if lucius isn't also in a loving and committed relationship with someone he's just as attracted to, because obviously no one compares to ed and everyone but stede has had to settle at least a little) while ed stares at him like he hung the sun, moon, and every star in the sky.

[sierracolorstheworldofwords]

The kitten-- Jareth x reader

Like a pouting child, the Goblin King sat on his throne. Outside, the thunder growled, the sky threatening to unleash his fury upon the inhabitants of the labyrinth. To drown all who stood within the storm's path! To diminish everything and everyone! 

Or at least, to make them feel as sour as he did.

His mood soured even more as he watched the source of his woe– a naughty kitten the color of ashes, chasing after a ribbon. Meanwhile, you, his love, his stars and moon entertained the damned horrid beast who knocked over his crystals and ran amuck! The monster who clawed his curtains and dipped her footprints into his ink, coating his desk in little paw prints. 

Really, he could handle that if you weren’t so busy cooing over the charming beastie. 

Finally, like the sun peeking through the clouds, you set your gaze on him. Smiling from your seat on the floor. He frowned. You were getting your pretty clothes dirty! 

“Jareth!” you called, waving him over, “Come play with me and the kitten!” 

He shifted, crossing one leg over the other, and the few goblins in the throne room watched, sensing the displeasure within their king. 

“Jareth!” You called again.

With a huff, he waved you off.

In response, your shoulders slumped, a frown forming on your lips, before you scowled, wagging a finger, “You better not be brooding!”

He sent you his own scowl in response. 

“That's the fifth time today!” You cried, shaking your head, before returning your attention to the kitten, “At least you don't brood!” 

“I heard that.”

 “Serves you right.” you put the ribbon aside now, offering her a finger to sniff, before she led your touch to underneath her chin, “he's no better than you! At least you purr, my sweet Eloise.”

“And that!” 

“And,” you continued, “At least you have cute little paws. What's he got? Hm? What does my little Jareth have?”

“Stop babying the kitten! And I'll tell you what I have, darling, class! At least I don't lick my ass in public–”

You turned to him, “So do you lick it in private then?”

Jareth shook like an overheated tea kettle as he glared at you. The splotching started at his neck, before slowly ascending, turning his cheeks and ears a bright, cherry red. In response, you snickered and grabbed the ribbon again. A smirk coated your lips as you swung it. Eloise scrunched herself into position, wiggling a bit before pouncing on her target. Or, at least, she tried to. Letting out a noise, she landed on her stomach, before determinedly chasing after the ribbon again. 

“Don't think I don’t hear you snickering over there.” He muttered, “honestly, how can you torture me so, dearest? Do you detest me?”

You continued playing with the kitten. The goblins watched, some fascinated, but others clearly disgusted. You couldn't ignore him! He was the Goblin King!

“Well?” he demanded.

You continued your fun.

“You're horrible!” He wailed, “Terrible! Atrocious! You're torturing me, darling! Tearing me apart, limb by limb!”

He now lay himself over the throne, his legs draped  over one arm. He threw a hand across his head, and the goblins around him chittered, clamoring to comfort him. To them, he looked like a martyr, or a sacrificial lamb being sacrificed to the gods. 

“What’s the matter, your majesty?” one asked. 

“Yeah, sire, what can we do?” 

Another held back sobs, “S-sire, what’s the matter?” 

“Yes! Whatever the matter, your majesty?” 

“Oh how you wound me my love!” Jareth pretended to close his eyes, only to look at you through little slits as he continued with his caterwauling, “Oh my love, how you torture me! How you pain me!”

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics.

“It feels as if you have taken a knife and stabbed me, twisting it within my chest!” 

The goblins gasped, some now huddling around the throne while shedding tears, their poor lips warbling as they looked at their luxurious, glorious, king. 

“Oh, darling!” Jareth cried. 

Finally, you turned to him with a glare, “Yes dear?”

He glared back, sitting up, “Get away from that horrid creature and pay attention to me!” “I asked you to come and play with–” “And get my clothes dirty on that floor?!” 

You sighed softly, shaking your head. 

To think, the being who always thought of himself as a gothic byronic hero couldn’t get along with a cat. Yet, you figured it’d be lovely to get one– since he had the temperament of one, and you thought it’d be nice to see your gargoyle of a king play with a kitten. Said king didn’t even notice you frowning, or if he did, he was too caught up in the performance to comfort you. 

“How you must detest me! Torturing me with such ideas!” His voice was smooth and hazy like wine, and the goblins drank it in, “And you pain me, darling– scolding me whenever I scold that kitten.”

You glared at him, causing him to gasp, laying a hand upon his chest.

“What a horrid creature you are, precious!”

Now, the goblins glared at you. They were stupidly overprotective of him, and even worse, stupidly overindulgent. Perhaps, you should’ve indulged him more, and even went to him, and sat upon his lap, but you quite liked where you were. Gathering Eloise in your arms, you cradled her to your chest, gently kissing her forehead. She protested a moment, before settling into your arms. 

“We’ll get rid of that beast, your majesty!” a goblin bayed. 

The small crowd nodded. 

“And we’ll make that human pay!” another yowled. 

“Pay! Pay!” the goblins cheered, “Make the human pay for upsetting the king!” 

Outside, the once howling wind stilled. The thunder stopped, even the clouds froze. Jareth grew still now, his hands now clenching the sides of the throne. His jaw clenched, and he turned towards the goblin who tried to rally the crowd. Standing, he loomed over the tiny creature, and you couldn’t distinguish where his long, black cape ended, and where the darkness began. His features elongated, sprouting, sharpening– ears turning into sharp arrows that jutted from his wild mane of blond hair. 

“What did you say?” 

The sky outside broke, thunder cracking it in half, followed by a lighting flash that slashed the air. Eloise let out a whimper, burrowing into your neck, but you didn’t cower. Just like Jareth, you couldn’t help but love what you loved, and love it wholeheartedly. Though, unlike your darling, you weren’t loath to admit it. 

The goblin was pinned into place by the king’s dark, deep gaze, and the fool looked at you, but you simply turned away to coo at Eloise. The creature was at the king’s mercy,now. 

“B-but your majesty–”  the goblin squeaked out, shaking in fear.

“But? But what?” He asked.

Jareth didn’t need to yell– his voice was all encompassing, sticking like snowflakes onto frostbitten skin. It sent a shiver down your spine, but still, to spite him, you continued to pet the kitten. Someone was clearly jealous. 

“Y-you said– y-you–”

“I said? I said? You ought to focus on your own words, you spineless fool! You threatened my love. You were tempted to make my darling pay– for what? Hasn't my heart always been merciful to insignificant specks like you?”

His heels clacked against the chilled silence of the room as he descended, stopping in front of the small group. They looked towards you again. Jareth leaned down, grabbing the nearest one by the throat.

“Do not look at my love.” he seethed, “Look at your King. Look at me.” 

You sighed, “Jareth.”

He turned towards you, a sneer on his lips. You simply blinked at him. The poor goblin didn't know who to be more afraid of. The Goblin King, or You, the one who didn't, couldn't, and wouldn't back down from him.

“You’ve been glowering all day.” you said, “And specifically, you’ve been glowering at your love all day, along with our kitten.” 

His stiffness melted. He looked at you. 

“Our kitten?” he murmured, edges melting, eyes widening. 

“Our kitten,” you insisted, meeting his gaze. 

The goblin was dropped like an old doll, and he tilted his head, finally noticing the frown on your lips. 

“Darling,” he murmured, “Why on earth are you frowning?” “Do you want to get rid of Eloise?” 

He looked at you for a moment, eyes wide, and his gaze ventured towards the kitten who now looked at him in return.

“As much as I love her, I love you too,” you said, biting down your lip, “and I want you to be happy. Not to mope all day because of a kitten.” 

His heart squeezed at the sight of you. Misty eyed and so connected to the little black cloud in your arms. It’s why he loved you, really, because your love was all encompassing, because it ate him alive, and he was scared that if you loved anything else, he’d lose it. 

“Oh darling,” he murmured, before coming towards you, and dropping to his knees, cradling your face, “No. You love that funny thing. And..” 

“Yes?” He lowered his voice, “I have been a bit jealous.” 

“Of a kitten?”

His cheeks flared. He looked away. Outside, the rumbling lowered its volume, undecided. 

“Yes.”

“Jareth–”

“Please don't scold me.”

You sighed, “She's not going to replace you–”

“You did say that you'd take her over me.”

“That's true,” you said, “especially if you keep being jealous of a kitten! Or keep trying to push her away! She's our kitten, Jareth, but I wanted us to both love her, to take care of her.” 

“Why?”

“Because I love you, and I wanted to share our love.” 

Jareth stared at you, lips parted, revealing his sharp teeth. They caused the goblins to shudder in horror, but you simply smiled at him, reveling in his surprise. Then, his cheeks turned a pale pink, and the goblins watched in a mixture of horror and awe as Goblin King melted before you, turning into a man who sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck. 

“I think she hates me,” he admitted.

“She doesn’t hate you. She just glares at you when you glare at her. It’s what cats do!” He pouted, “You’ve been neglecting me–” 

“She’s a kitten! You’re a man! I’m your lover! Or are you into incest?” 

He let out a disgusted noise, “Of course not!”

“Then I'm not going to baby you like I’m your mother, Jareth! I'll take care of you like a lover. And we'll take care of Eloise together! Now hold the kitten and do some magic and give her some treats.” 

“Am I doing the magic for you, or her?” 

“Both.” 

With that, he took the kitten into his arms, and she whined as she was separated from you. Eloise looked up at Jareth through narrowed, displeased eyes. Her tail swished angrily behind her. 

“Blink slowly at her.” you whispered, now scooting beside him, and leaning onto his shoulder. 

“What?” “Just do it.” 

He sighed, and did as he was told. 

The kitten froze, and you shifted Jareth’s arms, so she was cradled against his chest.. 

“Do it again.”

He did it again. 

This time, Eloise settled against him, still a bit miffed, but otherwise, doing alright. Grabbing his freehand, you stripped off his glove and guided his fingers to the spot behind her ears. A grin spread across your face as she began to close her eyes. 

“See?” you cooed, “You’re both exactly the same. Charming.” 

His lips curled, and his smile spread as you kissed his cheek, before settling back onto his shoulder. Outside, the thunder lessened to a purr, and Eloise joined the noise, closing her eyes in contentment. You poked his side. 

“Are you still jealous?”

“Me? Jealous? Of a kitten? That’s quite silly, darling.” 

You raised a brow, “You’re right. You’re lucky I like silly things, aren’t you?” 

“And you’re lucky I like silly things like you. Imagine babying a kitten.” 

“Imagine being jealous of one and wallowing in self pity.” 

He sent you a glare, making you giggle. 

Finally, he did sigh, “Will you ever forgive me for being so foolish?” 

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, and you smiled, “If you’ll never be so foolish again. Save your jealousy for more practical occasions. Although, you won’t need to worry about anyone taking me away from you. I have everything I have here.” 

You settled by his side, and he continued petting little Eloise, before kissing your forehead. Outside, the thunder finally faded, revealing the pale hazy blue of the sky. He sighed in content, and the residents of the labyrinth exhaled in relief, all except a group of goblins, who, with a snap of his fingers, were sent to live within the bog of stench. Honestly, their screams were music to his ears. 

[brittscafe]

How do they confess ? For aizen, szayel, as nodt and mayuri (seperately plz )

Maybe reader actually got to know aizen so he is himself with her

Fluff plz

Yes! <3 I'm so sorry that this took so long for me to write <3 <3

Aizen:

Usually, he's very calm and collected, but confessing to you, had his palms sweaty.

You have always been closer to Aizen than the rest of anyone else in Hueco Mundo.

He'll gaze at you across the room and meet your eyes with a sly smirk across his face.

Aizen is very prepared to confess to you and he has the whole thing planned out.

He'll invite you to a fancy dinner in his private room.

He will be a perfect gentleman.

Aizen will pull out your chair and make sure that you're enjoying your food that he had the chefs make with perfection.

His hand will grasp yours and he gazes deeply into your eyes.

His voice is thick, but soft as he confesses his true feelings towards you.

Your jaw practically hits the goddamn ground.

You never expected it or saw it coming.

You're left without words and Aizen's heart pounds against his chest, wanting to eagerly hear your answer.

With a stumble of your words, you explain that you feel the exact same way.

A warm smile starts to spread across Aizen's face and he stands up from his chair, walking over to you.

He towers over you and places a finger underneath your chin, lifting up your face to his and kissing you.

Szayel:

He's very surprised once he reveals he has feeling for you because of his sadistic nature.

Szayel tries multiple ways to tell you that he has feelings for you, using science and experiments.

Finally, he finds the ultimate way to confess his feelings to you.

Szayel puts on a theatrical performance and at first you thought he was toying you.

It was what he did to his victims.

Throughout his very long and tearing speech, you can hear the genuineness and frankness in his voice.

He grabs onto your hand and you shoot him a warm smile, saying how you feel the exact same.

As Nodt:

He's a very efficient man and also very calm.

As Nodt realizes that he cares about you, even getting a little attached to you.

He speaks with a perfect and calm tone as he stands in front of you, confessing bluntly.

The world starts to spin around you, he can even sense your fear.

You didn't know he was capable of feelings, but neither did him until he met you.

You of course have to explain to him what a relationship is and ask him if that's really what he wants.

As Nodt nods his head with confident and you walk up to him.

You place your hand on his cheek and his whole body jolts.

He dips his head into your neck, a tad ashamed that he feels this way.

You assure him that there's nothing wrong with feeling this way.

Mayuri:

He never thought he would have feelings for anyone else, let alone someone who's not one of his creations.

You worked in the lab as a part of the Shinigami Research Institute.

His eyes would linger on you as you sat your desk, shuffling through your work.

He had to question himself a lot, but he know deep down how he felt about you.

Mayuri is pretty upfront and you're both alone when he just blurts out that he likes you.

He couldn't believe the words that just came out of his mouth and neither could you.

You ask him if he really feels that way and he reassures you that he does.

You leap up from your chair and throw your arms around him.

Mayuri couldn't hide the grin forming across his face.

[aishangotome]

Alfons Sylvatica: Chapter 16

Chapter 15

♡———♡

Roger: You don't learn, do you, lil lady? Even after being hurt by that wicked man.

Roger's face was so close, I could feel his breath on me...

Roger is a nice man, and if I had met him at a bar without knowing anything, I probably would have been excited by his slightly forceful invitation.

(But...)

Kate: I'm not really in the mood for jokes right now...

Kate: Besides, shouldn't you be choosing who you want to be with?

Roger gives a wry smile and removes his hand from my shoulder.

Roger: I do choose, but I'd welcome a woman like you.

(Maybe he came to cheer me up.)

My heart, which had been losing its warmth, feels a little warmer.

(Speaking of which...)

Kate: ...Roger, you're researching curses, right?

Roger: Yeah, but...

Kate: Could you tell me about Alfons' fate...?

I ask the question I had been thinking about until just before Roger came. He shrugs theatrically.

Roger: If he knew I told you, he'd hate me even more.

Kate: I won't tell Alfons that I heard it from you.

Roger: He'd figure it out even if you didn't.

Roger: Well, he can't hate me any more than he already does, so I don't care.

(Come to think of it...)

I had felt a little uncomfortable with Alfons' attitude towards Roger.

---CHOICES---

You two have known each other for a long time

Do he dislike you?

Who is older?

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

Kate: Does Alfons dislike you?

Roger: Haha, straight to the point. Well, the answer is YES.

Roger: ...It's because I was the one who casually told him about his "fate."

Roger: I twisted his already twisted life even further.

(What...?)

Roger: Do you want to hear it?

(If I hear it...)

What Roger is about to tell me is something Alfons would never let me know.

(...What am I going to do with knowing more about him?)

(It'll only make it harder to forget him.)

I bite my lip.

(But still...)

I want to grasp even a tiny bit of his mirage-like reality.

Kate: ...Please tell me.

-

**Alfons' Past**

There are no dreams or illusions here.

There is only the inescapable "truth"...

The gray-eyed boy was an orphan from the East End.

From the time he could remember, he had been forced to do hard labor at the orphanage.

The environment was harsh, and even the slightest mistake was met with corporal punishment.

However, he had a special skill.

He knew how to escape the hunger, pain, and suffering of reality by dreaming.

"This isn't me," he would say, looking at his reflection in the dirty water.

Then, his consciousness would dissociate, and he could endure corporal punishment without feeling anything.

Many children died.

...I can't even remember their names anymore. I'm sure I'll die like that too.

Even so, there was one thing he cherished.

Gray-eyed Boy: Come here.

A kitten shivering in an alley.

He shared his meager bread with it, held it to his chest on cold days, and stroked its neck.

It calmed his heart.

(I'm not like those adults. Because I have love.)

(I'm not like the other nameless children. Because I have this kitten.)

(This cat knows me. It remembers me.)

He maintained his sense of self by thinking this way.

Gray-eyed Boy: I love you... so don't forget me.

The warmth of the kitten, the soft feel of its fur, its tiny meows...

That place, surrounded by crumbling bricks, was his "reality."

-

Hmm... A cat, huh...

One day, the boy met another boy named Roger in the East End.

Roger looked a little older than the boy who was shining shoes on the street.

From his clothes, it was clear that he came from a relatively wealthy family, if not a noble one.

Roger, who said he had "heard rumors about the orphanage," was very interested in the boy's story for some reason.

Roger: So, what happened to that cat? You're shining shoes here because you were kicked out of the orphanage, right?

The boy's gray eyes softened a little at the mention of the cat.

Gray-eyed Boy: He's still at the orphanage. I'm sure someone is taking care of him.

Roger: ...What's your name?

Name... It felt like he had forgotten he even had one.

Gray-eyed Boy: ...Alfons, I think.

Roger: Maybe?

Alfons: I heard it was written on the box I was in.

He knew he had been abandoned at birth without having to ask anyone.

The boy didn't remember anything before coming to the orphanage.

And he had just been kicked out of that orphanage.

Roger: Do you really not know why you were kicked out of the orphanage?

Alfons: I don't know. It was so sudden, I didn't...

**back to present**

The overlapping sound of the clock's hands brings my consciousness back to the present from the past.

Roger: I tried to contact him because I heard a rumor.

Kate: A rumor...?

Roger: Yeah. A rumor that "the head of the orphanage was turned into a cat."

(Turned into a cat...?)

Kate: What do you mean...?

Roger: I knew I was cursed back then and had started researching curses.

Roger: Through my father, who's a town doctor, I was digging through records of patients who seemed to be cursed.

Roger: One of the most unusual rumors was that there was a person who could "rewrite other people's perceptions," and...

Roger: There was a strange phenomenon of memory loss occurring around the source of that rumor.

(Memory loss...)

I remember Alfons' face and swallow quietly.

Roger: Many people remember being told that white was black, black was white, and that was the truth.

Roger: But no one can remember who did it to them. Not their name, appearance, or where they lived.

Roger: When you check the records in those places... there's always an unnatural blank space.

Roger: It's clear that one person has "disappeared" from both memory and records... Isn't that strange?

Roger: I was convinced that the person with that power was "cursed."

An unpleasant premonition filled my chest.

But I just swallowed and listened to his words.

Roger: When I heard the rumor that "a human turned into a cat," I thought it was that cursed person.

Roger: I was desperately looking for another cursed person at that time.

Roger: ...So, I got ahead of myself.

**flashback to past**

Roger: You have some strange power, don't you?

Alfons takes a slight step back from Roger, who suddenly leans in with a serious expression.

Alfons: Strange power...?

Roger: Like, if you touch someone or something, you can make them believe something, even if it's a lie.

Alfons: ...Even if it's a lie...?

He doesn't ask what Roger means, so he must know what he's talking about.

Convinced of this, Roger takes a step back and spreads his arms.

Roger: Try it on me. Anything.

Alfons: ...........

Alfons stares at Roger for a moment, then...

Alfons: ...I'll do it if you pay me.

He makes a deal with the well-dressed Roger.

Then the two of them experimented with the "ability."

This was because Alfons himself didn't know how to activate his power.

Roger: It doesn't seem to work just by giving a verbal command.

Alfons: Then, how about trying to give a command while touching something?

And after some trial and error, holding hands, putting his hand on his forehead...

Alfons: "This isn't shoe polish, it's your favorite food."

**back to present**

Roger: When his hand touched the nape of my neck, the ability was activated.

Kate: ...How did you know the power was activated?

Roger: I found myself eating shoe polish, and he was pointing at me and laughing.

(Ugh...)

Roger laughs and continues the story.

**back to past**

Roger: You're definitely cursed.

Alfons: Cursed?

Alfons: What are you talking about, mister? I'd like you to pay me now.

Alfons looks at him coldly and waves his outstretched hand.

Roger grabs Alfons by the shoulders.

Roger: You have the power to distort people's minds. You just saw it.

Roger: Cursed people have a predetermined fate in exchange for their power...

Alfons: Wh-what are you getting so excited about?

A person cursed from birth - that's what a "Cursed One" is.

At this time, Alfons doesn't know the meaning of it yet.

Roger: Cursed Ones are born with the fate of "committing a crime and meeting a tragic end."

Alfons: ...You should go to the hospital, mister. A tragic end? That's ridiculous.

Roger: It sounds like a lie, but it's true! In your case, it's probably... "to die without being remembered by anyone."

Roger: That's the fate you carry.

Alfons: ...!

The "fate" he was given in exchange for an ability that ordinary humans don't have.

Roger: But I'm sure fate can be changed. I'll change it.

Roger: I finally met another Cursed One! Hey, you...

Alfons: ...Get away from me.

Suddenly, Alfons pushes Roger hard in the chest.

Roger: ...? What's wrong? You're pale.

Alfons: Just get away from me!

Alfons pushes Roger away as if to shove him and runs away. He never came back.

**back to present

Roger: ...A while after that,

Roger: I started hearing rumors that "a kid who shows strange illusions is being harassed in the slums."

I remembered Alfons showing illusions to people in an abandoned warehouse.

**flashback to slums**

Alfons: I was doing this before I joined the Crown.

Alfons: It's too late to tell me to stop because it's classified information.

**end of flashback**

Roger: I was going to ask him to cooperate with my research on curses, but...

Roger: I probably told him about his fate too carelessly... I confronted him with an irreversible reality.

I felt like a hole had opened up beneath my feet.

Alfons' unknown past, the day he first learned of his ability, and... the "curse" he received.

("To die without being remembered by anyone" - that's Alfons' fate.)

.

.

.

.

.

.

Chapter 17

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[harmonictechnicality]

a little follow-up to the steddie bookstore meet cute

Steve lets the storyteller finish reading the chapter before further investigation. He does this for three different reasons: 

The chapters aren’t outrageously lengthy.

Kids get extremely cranky if someone disrupts their story time.

Steve also gets extremely cranky if someone disrupts his unapologetic staring-at-cute-boys time.

He’s worked at this bookstore for 378 days. All walks of life come through this place and he’s seen them all.

Until today.

378 days and countless hours of people-watching, but Steve Harrington has never seen someone like him.

Loud clothes to match his loud voice. Knotted hair and one untied combat boot. Inked-up arms that look deceivingly like shirt sleeves.

Steve scans over his face, counting his piercings. One lip. One nose. One eyebrow. Three in each ear.

Nine piercings and that’s just the visible ones.

But before Steve starts visualizing (fantasizing) about how many more he might have, the kids start clapping. Cheering, even. The man gives a theatrical bow and sneaks past the crowd of children - making a beeline towards Steve.

“I can explain,” the man begins sputtering, hands up defensively. “I picked the wrong chair. Perceptibly cozy. Undoubtedly hard-work.”

Steve just smirks, nodding towards the novel in his ring-clad hand. “You gonna buy that?”

“Uh yeah. I mean, yes.”

Oh, Steve is making him nervous. Huh.

“Come, on.” Steve takes the book from his grasp and motions to the cash register. “You can explain further while I check you out over there.”

Which wasn’t meant to be a line, but he’s not exactly sorry that it came out that way.

“Been looking for this specific copy for years.” The man starts fumbling through his jean pockets, while he continues to babble. “Was scouring second-hand bookstore reviews on Yelp one day and saw this place is a goldmine for rare books. Figured I’d venture out here and see for myself.”

“Glad you could find what you’re looking for,” Steve states smoothly.

“In more ways than one, I hope.” He says it under his breath and not directly to Steve, but it doesn’t matter. Steve is keyed in. He hears every word. Senses fully heightened.

“The little bookworms thought you were amazing.” Steve says while simultaneously thinking, I find you pretty amazing too.

“Yeah? Pretty cool to see kids geeking out over Bilbo Baggins.”

Despite his clumsy movements, he manages to thumb open his wallet and slides Steve a credit card. Steve takes the card and inspects the name: Eddie Munson. Lets the name resonate and marinate in his mind for a brief moment.

“So you’re just passing through then?” Which could be too forward. Steve can get away with Too Forward when picking up girls, but it’s definitely more of a gamble with guys.

“That depends.”

“Depends on what?” Steve swipes the card through, then offers it back to Eddie.

Their fingertips meet in the transfer, but Eddie’s coffee brown eyes stay fixed on Steve’s lips. 

“If there’s anything else worth exploring in this town.” 

Totally worth the gamble. 

Steve bites down on his lower lip, the one that’s become Eddie’s focal point of interest, and tosses the book into a paper bag - sliding it over the register counter.

“Thanks, Steve.” Eddie says causally. Like he’s known him personally for years.

Steve raises his eyebrows.

“Name tag! I saw your name tag.” Eddie’s expression is panicky, losing all remnants of his flirtatious tone. “Shit.”

This guy is a walking contradiction. Fully clothed like he’s preparing for an anarchist uprising, but is actually a blabbering mess. Steve Harrington is just some turtleneck wearing, floppy-haired, college dropout - yet somehow he is the one making the big bad wolf skittish.

It’s honestly adorable.

“Come back anytime, Eddie.” Steve says just as casually.

Now Eddie is the one raising his eyebrow.

“Credit card.” Steve responds. “I saw your credit card.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

There’s no reason that the conversation should continue. Steve shouldn’t waste his time pining after someone that’s just traveling through with low probability of sticking around. Hawkins is practically a ghost town at this point. Nobody ever stays, except for washed-up locals like Steve and Robin.

So he knows he shouldn’t pursue this. Steve knows better not to get involved with dead-end streets leading to eventual heartbreak. But he can’t stop himself from sneaking out his phone the second Eddie leaves the store. His thumb is hovering over the Search button when Robin snatches it from his hand.

“No cellphones during store hours.” She says, inspecting the phone screen. “Oh, come on- seriously?”

“What?” He groans.

She holds the screen in front of his face. “You’re googling him?”

“So?” Steve tries to grab the phone back, but Robin dodges his attempts.

“You’re hopeless, Harrington.” She creates a wide enough gap between them to avoid Steve from taking the phone. “But as your best friend, I am legally obligated to cyberstalk any of your potential love interests.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “And what law says that?”

“The law of every rom-com movie ever made, dingus.” 

Robin taps the screen and begins scrolling, examining the search results. After a few seconds, her mouth drops open.

“No way,” Robin squeals, scrolling faster now. “No fucking way.”

“What’d you find?” Steve rushes behind her, peering over Robin’s shoulder to get a better view. 

“Look.” Robin pinches the glass screen to enlarge the article she’s discovered.

Steve slides on his burgundy reading glasses, lets his eyes adjust to the phone’s brightness. 

And he sees it. The bold letters. The key word. “Eddie hosts a podcast?”

Robin nods. “Not just any podcast.” 

She flips to the bottom of the news article and there’s an image of Eddie. He’s standing in front of a Victorian-style mansion, which Steve recognizes immediately. The Winchester Mystery House. Maybe one of the most famous haunted houses in the United States.

“Holy shit,” Steve blurts out as it finally clicks in his brain. “Eddie hosts a ghost-hunting podcast?”

[leviathans-watching]

of cats and crushes

day 4: human au, secrets

includes: satan & asmo

wc: .7k | rated t | m.list

a/n: for @ombrotherlylove2023!!

Satan drops his bags on the couch with a sigh. His lectures today were really exhausting.

But, at least he got to see MC, his campus crush. And even got to lend them a pencil when they forgot theirs. 

Wishing he could grow a pair, Satan grimaces, then flops down onto the couch next to his things. It’s only a moment before Asmo pokes his head in, a slight glare crossing his features. 

“Could you try to keep it down? I’m trying to film a TikTok and all your huffing and puffing is getting picked up.” He squints. “Wait, why are you huffing and puffing? Did something happen?” 

“No,” Satan says quickly, defensively. Asmo’s brows raise. “Nothing happened. And that’s the problem,” he mutters. 

Asmo tilts his head, walking into the room and sitting on the couch's armrest, a move that’d only work for him. Crossing his arms, he waits for Satan to speak. 

Satan sighs again. 

“Oh, come on,” Asmo says, rolling his eyes. “Spit it out.” 

Satan squints. Can he really trust Asmo with something like this? While Satan’s not inexperienced, Asmo’s on a whole other level, something that’s a little bit humbling. Plus, it’s embarrassing to talk to your younger sibling about stuff like this!

Asmo’s face softens, and he pokes Satan in the side. “You can tell me. I’ll keep it a secret, okay? And this one time I guess I won’t make fun of you.” 

“Oh, thanks,” Satan replies sarcastically. “You’re really making me want to spill my heart.” 

“Heart?” 

Satan curses. Asmo’s too damn nosy and intuitive for his own good. “Fine. I…have a crush.”

Asmo gasps theatrically, and Satan scowls. Unfortunately, he’s one hundred percent serious. “A crush?” he echoes, eyes wide. “On who? Do I know them? Do they like you? Tell. Me. Everything.” 

“You know them,” Satan mutters, a bit embarrassed. “It’s MC, you know, the one who comes into the cat cafe a lot?” 

Asmo grins. “That MC? You mean, the one who always tips you like five dollars? The MC that you always put extra effort into the latte art for?” 

“Yes, that MC,” Satan responds. “But I’m pretty sure they don’t even know I exist.” 

“That’s so not true,” Asmo says quickly, eyes sparkling with excitement. “It makes sense now!” 

“What does?” 

“Well,” Asmo begins, putting his hand on Satan’s arm, “I hear from my friend Solomon, who’s friends with Simeon, who’s friends with MC, that MC’s got a wicked cat allergy but keeps aggravating it. Apparently, they won’t say why but I think I have an inkling…” 

“That really like cats?” Satan asks, and Asmo slaps him lightly. 

“No! I mean, it’s not the cats they like if you get my drift.”

Satan blushes. “Oh. Oh my god.”

“Exactly!” 

“You can’t say anything,” Satan says. “I’m serious. Nothing to Lucifer or anyone, and nothing to Solomon, since he’s obviously a gossip.” 

“Duh,” Asmo rolls his eyes, “I already told you I would keep it a secret. I’ll take it to my grave,” he swears solemnly, and Satan scoffs. 

“You better. And no harebrained matchmaking schemes either, okay? You can be seriously annoying with stuff like that.” 

“I can’t believe my own brother would say something so hurtful,” Asmo sniffs. “How could you?” 

Satan levels him with a look and Asmo drops the act quickly. 

“Fine, fine. But honestly, I wasn’t planning on it. It seems to me like my amazing and awesome skills aren’t needed in this case.”

“You’re annoying.” 

“Awww, I love you too, dear brother,” Asmo says, patting him on the shoulder. “Now, come help me with my TikTok.” 

“No, no way,” Satan argues. “You know I don’t do any of that social media shit.” 

“Oh, come on,” Asmo whines, standing and tugging on his arm. “I’m keeping your secret, aren’t I?” 

“So now you’re blackmailing me?” 

“I’d never do something like that.” Asmo gives his arm another tug, tone faux-innocent. 

“Right,” Satan says drily. “Look, I’m not helping and that’s final. Unless you want people to learn about the time I had to bring you pants because your skinny jeans ripped.” 

“You promised you’d never tell a soul!” Asmo accuses, and Satan cocks his head. 

“Yeah, funny how that works.” 

“Ugh, fine, I get your point,” Asmo groans. “Whatever. Just be quiet so I can film, then. And,” he adds after a moment of deliberation, “good luck with MC.”

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, ro claim as your own