#she still does the odd hiss to keep him in his place

[pangur-and-grim]

I think they’re going to become friends

[dullgecko]

Riz obviously suffers the most from racism, often needing to be disguised when they travel or just straight up murdering the assholes that can’t keep their mouths shut. Obviously the bad kids made a Riz Protection Squad… Wait, why is Riz the president of his own protection squad? “Riz, wait, put down the knife. We’re supposed to protect you.- WHO GAVE HIM A MISSILE LAUNCHER!?”(Missile launcher was a joint effort of Fig, Adaine, and Gorgug. Made to specifically target racists.)

It wasn’t very surprising that Fig also had to deal with racists, mostly from religious humans and elves. She didn’t know what to do the first time a Helio follower berated her for existing, it was one of her old friends in middle school too, she ended up crying in her room and wouldn’t let Sandra Lynn comfort her. After the second time she just started hissing exaggeratedly to scare them off, as well as threatening to set them on fire, it still hurt though.(After sophomore year she started expressing how much it actually effected her, mostly with the bad kids but she did open up to her parents too…Eventually.)

Gorgug was mostly left alone, simply because the racist were scared of him, but the times he does face discrimination he sorta just stares at the person until they walk away or until one of the bad kids just suddenly appears and beats up the person insulting him. (Adaine and Ayda made a spell that signals them if someone is being mean to Gorgug, since Adaine canonically believes that if someone is mean to him then they’re automatically evil. Ayda fully agrees.) The first time it happened was unfortunately in elementary school with his teacher and it continued the whole school year, he didn’t tell anyone until he brought it up during a family dinner in between sophomore year and junior year. No one had ever seen Digby and Wilma look so pissed before, not even Gorgug.

Fabian got a lot of shit for not being a “pure blood” of a human or an elf, but he never actually cared about it. It confused him the first time, like yeah, of course he’s not fully a human or fully an elf, that’s how genetics works. Fig and Ragh had to explain it to him for about two hours before he realized what they meant(Power-points had to be made), which resulted in a very long overdue murder trip to the assholes house. (He’s very proud of himself for finding the address without Riz’s help.)

Adaine never really had to deal with it, at least not towards her. She would get the odd comment of being uptight because she’s a high elf, but they would already be on the ground before they could say anything else. One of the few things her and Aelwyn agreed on while growing up was how horribly racist their parents are and how they would never be like that. After getting adopted she would speak up more openly for her friends and new family, gladly standing in the line of fire to lessen what the others had to hear. She also verbally abused Arthur until he made a system in the school that would make someone unable to speak if they try to be racist, sexist, or homophobic.

Kristen faced racism towards humans maybe two times, and each time she just laughed and screamed “So this is what I was missing out on!”. The others were not impressed, in fact they’re all very pissed and on the hunt for the asshole who insulted her.… “Riz…Get the missile launcher.” (Kristen got a little emotional and hugged them all after they got back. No, she doesn’t care about the amount of blood they’re all covered in. And no, she won’t ask about the weird bag or why they’re taking it to the basement…Or why it’s still moving.)

BONUS! Ayda makes them all write down the names and descriptions of people who hurt them(There’s no way out of it, they have to.), then goes to each person’s home and either makes sure they can’t say anything hurtful again or, if they’re already taken care of, just burns down the place and curses their blood line. Good pirates don’t discriminate in any way, and she will see to it that everyone will pay for hurting her paramour and her friends.

Riz has to deal with it a lot, but most of the time he just ignores it because it isnt worth getting into a fight over. ESPECIALLY when he was younger, and infinitely more puntable (its how he got so good at sneaking, he had to deal with it less if people didnt even notice he was there). It became less of an issue when he started packing heat, and EVEN LESS of an issue once he became a multiple confirmed dragon slayer. Sure, he still encountered the assholes sometimes but absoloutly /ruining their lives/ is just a fun little side hobby now. Oh you called me a slur? Oh no how did your wife find out you were cheating and where did she get that folder full of proof?

Outside of Solace its a bit rougher but he humors his friends desire to protect him, he even accepts a souped up arcubus from them that he keeps as a backup weapon just in case (but he's too attached to his own to use it). Anyone that gets past his friends to attack him though is leaving with more holes than they came with initially.

---------

Fig just laughs off anyones attempts at being racist these days. Fig is an archdevil, if anyone is racist towards her she simply makes a note of it for later. She might not do anything to hurt them in the moment but there are receipts, and she will be collecting her dues when they finally kick the bucket.

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The generally racist opinion of half-orcs is that they're dumb, slow and violent. Gorgug is none of these things, he's just quiet and actually thinks things through before replying (which might make it seem like he's a bit slow but its more that he's thoughtful). One of his teachers in middle school constantly made him the butt of jokes, and propped him up as an example that none of the other kids would want to be. He was careful to never loose his temper around that teacher just so he wouldnt fit the stereotype the way they wanted.

When his parents find out about it years after the fact, the teachers car is found dismantled in their driveway the very next morning. Every single piece that could be taken apart done so, and most of the metal pieces were left in a bucket of salt water. No one saw who did it and there was no evidence at the scene.

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

While Adaine doesnt have to deal with much by way of racism she /does/ have to deal with a lot of gross race-based fetishisation. Especially since she fits the idealised archetype of thin, blonde, kind elven wizard woman. More than one person has tried to flirt with her in a very gross way and been absoloutly /laid out/ by whichever of the bad kids was with her at the time (she's once witnessed Riz notice her getting harrased after coming around a corner, climb a chair, table then partially onto a display shelf to knock a guy out once. Very funny because it was one the only time she's seen him strike someone with a closed fist, rather than claws.).

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

Kristen laughs it off at first but she's a little more upset about it than she thought she would be later. She just doesnt have the same experiance with it as the others so she doesnt have the same coping mechanisms.

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

Ayda is a force to be reckoned with and is /usually/ the reason why Figs racist-punishment-wing is receiving their guests early. If they sincerely apologise and make amends she will let them off with a warning, but since she herself is not of the same race as the ones she enacts firery revenge on the ofen double down on the assholery and seal their fate.

[marchsfreakshow]

Heartache In Him {JPM x Reader}

Requested by anon <3

You broke up with James 2 years ago because of The Countess. But Liz invites you back to help her and Sally.

Your perspective

☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ◕ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

2 Years Ago

"James, why the fuck would you hide this from me?"

"We have a deal we made my dear. It's been that way since we married." James sighed, staring at me. I stared daggers back, unable to see why it doesn't count as cheating.

James was married. He had been married for his whole undead life, to the woman in the room up top. I didn't know her, I only caught glimpses of her, and even then she was gone in a flash. Sure she was pretty, but, there was just something about her I couldn't pinpoint. It was odd, and encapsulating. I just shook my head off at the thought of her. "That doesn't matter! If you're going to date me I think it's pretty fucking important you tell me you're married to someone!!"

"She sleeps not with me. She has one person she sleeps with, and who helps her feed." James kept his cool, but I had an inkling he was as pissed as I was. I gritted my teeth and grabbed my bag. I wasn't staying here for long anyway, let alone any longer with a man who had a cheating wife.

Storming out, I heard Liz and Sally worry, but I didn't look back at them, James was behind me. "I hope you enjoy your awful fucking marriage, James." I flipped him off as I went outside and called for a taxi.

----

Now

I stared at the entrance to the Hotel Cortez. Liz had invited me back. It hadn't changed, so I doubted the dull and dingy inside would have changed either. A heavy sigh left my lips as I pushed open the door, and the energy of the place changed. It was odd, and like someone could sense I walked in. "Y/N, it's good to see you again," Sally said from the other side of the hall. I made a smile as I rushed up to her and hugged her tightly. She barely hugged me back, but I knew she missed me. "Why did you come back? I thought you dumped the murder ass."

I groaned and pointed up to Liz who was at the bar and distracted by her own thoughts and a can of coke. She was a beautiful lady I'll admit that. I took Sally's arm in mine, keeping my friend close, and still holding my bag with my free hand. "Oh Y/N! I'm so glad you're here." Liz grinned, it made me smile, and I sat down at the bar, immediately leaning on my hand.

"It's...okay to be back I guess. Still not sure what I think of the place now it stinks like cheating and death."

As soon as I said that, on the other side of the Hotel not to my knowledge, James was throwing a body away. He wasn't worried that the growing pile seemed to just get bigger and more prominent throughout the 2 years I had been gone. Maybe it was to work through me leaving him. Either way, the smell of everything hit me, death was the most common in this hotel. "Well, I'd like it if you could help with bartending occasionally. Restocking the little snacks and all." Really? That was it? I thought it was going to be more than that. I nodded though, happy to just see my friends again. But we heard footsteps. I wasn't the type of person to be able to tell whose footsteps were whose, Liz does though it seems.

"Y/N. Under the bar, quick." She hissed, I just nodded, and dashed behind the bar, hiding the best I could. It was James. Fuck. He stopped, I didn't know what was going to happen. "What?"

"Hm." James attempted to carry on walking, but he tripped over something. Oh. Shit. My bag. "Who's bag this?" He asked, pointing at it with his stick.

"It was left here, I'll take it to lost and found later. Not like anyone comes back anyway." Sally chimed in, taking a long, dramatic puff of her cigarette. James made another 'hm' and walked away. I let out a sigh, but it was loud, and he stopped in his tracks again.

"What was that?" He asked, and walked around to where Liz was, and saw me trying to hide behind Liz. Well, shit. "Y/N?" Awkwardly, he took hold of my arm and pulled me up trying to hug me, but I just pushed him away, avoiding his gaze.

"Leave us." He kept looking at me and waved to Sally and Liz. They slowly walked away, looking concerned. I almost shrank back, I didn't want them to leave, but I knew avoiding James the whole time would only cause more trouble. The aura of the whole place changed again, it almost seemed less dim. Was it because James had seen me? Either way, I just turned away from him, but he persisted. "Y/N, what are you doing back?"

"You made my reason leave." I didn't want to say much to him, so I tried to slip next to him so I could grab my bag and run. James was faster and harshly gripped my arms, keeping me leaning back on the bar.

"Will you stay?"

"No. You had a wife. I've found out about her. She's a fucking psycho"

"Like what I do isn't more psychotic?" James smirked, he was still attractive, but I didn't want to show him that, he would use that against me. "You find her a monster, yet you were so attracted to me by my killings, I know nothing could change that my dear."

"Don't call me that." That was all I could say back. I was still avoiding his eyes, yet he placed his hand just under my chin, on the top of my neck, he had me wrapped around his finger, and we both knew it. Even after 2 years, I couldn't shake The Countess from my thoughts. It was like she had the whole hotel wrapped around her gloved, long fingers, twisting words so they made sense to her. "Can you just...leave me now James?"

"Oh, we both know you don't want that my sweet bird." He left the word bird on my neck, his breaths making me tingle. But, he let me go. I felt frozen, I couldn't move even if he had just basically made it so I couldn't move. "Why don't you just kiss me hmm? I've missed our lips being connected so." He had me in a small corner, and he was fucking proud of himself. Proud that he had me in his little heart again. I felt fucking weak for letting myself drop my barriers for the murderer.

With that feeling, and me looking at the ground like a worried madman, he held me again and kept our faces close, the anticipation of him kissing me almost killing me. "I've killed nearly every hotel guest that came in, who resembled you Y/N. It was exhilarating as it was annoying.

"Fuck your killing addiction." Our noses were touching, the tension reaching every corner of the room. Every inhabitor of the hotel could feel it even if they were on the other side of the room. Like fuck I was giving in to him. My breaths were quick, heavy. His, calm and collected.

It happened.

One of us gave in and our lips were mashed together. His hands resting between on the top of my hips, mine holding the back of his neck. The feeling of tension had been cut once we kissed, almost like a sigh. Internally I was having arguments. I'm a fucking idiot for kissing this murderer. But oh god he was hot, and I missed the way he kissed me. And he was just as good as ever. Soon though, James pulled away, he could tell I was yelling at myself. "You have no reason to yell at yourself my darling hummingbird."

I still did so anyway. "You still taste the same." He added, starting to walk away. I was so entranced by what happened, I didn't realise my feet were following him, and I picked up my bag. Next to nothing had changed in his room.

But soon I woke up in James' bed, him already gone.

Well fuck.

[cure-icy-writes]

Okay so. A lot of people have been making cute little dungeon meshi aus where it's modern, but specifically the cast lives in one place. Figured I should maybe share mine?

Anyways. Dungeon Meshi but it's midwestern.

-Senshi, i think, is a regular presence in the church but is the kind of christian that the pastor has beef with. He has an apron with two fish and five loaves of bread on it, and can be found at pretty much every barbecue and church potluck. No one's sure if he's really devoted to jesus or just heard the story of a guy feeding an entire crowd and started showing up to church to feed people. He has caused two married men to have their bisexual awakenings.

-The town they all live in has an extremely high density of restaurants, meaning the only thing to do around there is go out to eat. The gang goes out to eat new places a lot together!

-Izutsumi is a warrior cats kid who was probably bullied for hissing and biting the other kids. The gang recognizes that she's not mean, she's just badly socialized and also seventeen. She lives in a group home, but has been running away less ever since she got promised regular meals.

-Related: Chilchuk is a union guy who is covertly making sure every restaurant they go to is up to code. He keeps shutting down places for not having adequate safety measures for their employees.

-Izutsumi has decided she's going to hang out with Chilchuk sometimes and will stop by his workplace. He's insistent that he's not adopting any more children, but has been teaching her how to budget, how to lie convincingly enough to get a job, and the most ethical places to shoplift from with the fewest risks because she's going to steal things anyways.

-Marcille has never been to a cornfield in her life. She's a Chicago kid, who really misses her deep dish pizza and that really good Italian place, but she's here to study some rare microorganisms.

-Marcille studies a very weird field of medicine that involves looking for medical uses in odd places. She's looking to eliminate class divides in lifespan by trying to find more affordable medicines for diseases that primarily affect the lower class.

-Her father died of asbestos poisoning from working in unsafe conditions when she was a kid, so she's especially alert for it, and gets a little neurotic around flu season.

-Laios and Falin used to go to the creek behind their house all the time to catch crawdads, and sometimes he'll still do it for old time's sake.

-Laios flunked out of college because they couldn't handle his autism rizz. He's going to trade school for the culinary arts, but he keeps trying to cook things he shouldn't.

-Laios checked out the massive dragon books from the library and cried when he found out they weren't real.

-He does furry commissions online, but he's not the best with customer negotiations and keeps wondering how many nipples someone's fursona has. Chilchuk helped him build his profile to appeal to commissioners who like speculative biology.

-Falin watched her brother flunk and went "hm, I think I will not." she's an apprentice at a local gardening shop. You think she's a normal sweet cottagecore kind of girl but then she starts gushing about soil nutrients and sustainability and you realize. Oh. Oh this is the kind of girl who would romanticize being buried under a tree and having it consume her bones.

-Laios wears shirts with anatomically correct dinosaur skeletons on them, but he has to order them online and frequently complains that there are no good clothing shops nearby. Senshi heard him say this, and introduced him to fabric paint.

[velidewrites]

Don’t Look Back

Five hundred years ago, the humans fought hard for their freedom in the Great War and won. Now, their former masters seek retribution in a rebellion that grows stronger year by year. When Elain Archeron finds out marrying Greysen Nolan might be the only solution to keep her family safe from the ancient, cruel Fae, she doesn't hesitate to fulfil her duty. What Elain doesn't know, though, is that the man with the fiery hair and russet eyes is not her fiancé, but his killer—and when she finally finds out, well…it will be far too late to turn back.

Chapter 5/15 || Read on AO3 || Go to Chapter 1

Chapter 5: The Hold

Much to Elain’s dismay, Lucien decided to put a blindfold on her before she managed to examine the strange place.

The Vanserra Hold, Lucien had called it. All Elain had caught a glimpse of, though, was the circular clearing, and the fire burning around it. As far as she was concerned, the only things this forest held were the Vanserras’ egos and a rather pungent collection of mud.

She could feel the magic around her, though. The metallic tinge of it was familiar enough for her to make out through this blend of autumn and sunlight—she had scented it on more than one occasion in her father’s private repository. It was almost like autumn had somehow found a way to trap this piece of land as the rest of the world moved through the rest of the seasons unaffected.

Despite herself, Elain enjoyed the way it warmed her skin. Her body seemed to move of its own accord as she tilted her chin upwards, as though to soak up whatever light the gaps between the trees offered.

Doing so had been a mistake—something sharp caught in her hair, grazing against the back of her neck lightly, and Elain jumped at the sensation.

“Stop moving,” Lucien instructed, tying the piece of cloth around her head at last. The blindfold may have covered her sight—her entire face, really—but Elain could practically hear his eyes roll at her reaction to his claws. “I thought you weren’t afraid of monsters, Princess,” he teased.

“Stop calling me that,” she barked. Frankly, she was starting to get quite sick of his little jabs—sick of everyone calling her the title she had not earned. In their mouths, it had always sounded like at worst mockery. At best, it had been respect for her father, not Elain. Never Elain.

She felt Lucien shrug. “I’ll call you whatever I like,” he said, taking a step back as if to admire his work. “You’ve had no trouble calling me a beast earlier.”

“I never said beast,” Elain corrected.

A sigh. “Beast, monster,” Lucien said. “Creature. It’s all the same to me, just as I know it’s all the same to you.”

Behind the blindfold, her eyes narrowed. “Don’t presume to know what I mean,” she hissed. “You are a monster. You killed my mother.” 

“Eris did.”

“I don’t imagine you tried stopping him,” Elain said, crossing her arms over her chest in accusation. “He doesn’t even feel a shred of remorse about it.”

Lucien snorted. “No, he does not,” he said. “And neither do I. Think of me whatever you like, Princess, but I’m not even half the monster your mother was.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d heard the Fae slander her mother in the past few hours. The two of them had never been as close as Elain had wished—Mother had always seemed to prefer Nesta, which, as disappointing as it once had been, was not surprising in the least. Nesta was, and always had been, a force to be reckoned with—an heir that would strengthen the Merchant’s position in the new world no matter the odds. Elain…Mother had never once looked at Elain the way she would look at Nesta. With pride, with determination. Still, Elain supposed, it was better than Mother never looking at her at all.

As much as she’d always underestimated Elain, and ignored her youngest daughter completely, Elain had never believed her mother to be a bad person. She was ambitious, yes—stricter than most parents would have been, even the titled ones—but a monster…

She wished she wasn’t blindfolded, if only to give Lucien the nastiest look possible as she told him, “I don’t believe you.”

An equally nasty retort must have been armed at the ready on Lucien’s tongue, because Vassa interjected, reminding them both of her presence, “Give them a chance, Elain.” A hand on her shoulder—Vassa’s, thankfully, if the gentleness of the touch was any indication. “I promise you, all will be explained soon.”

“Ah, yes. The truth.” Elain rolled her eyes, and, as politely as she could muster for old time’s sake, shook Vassa’s hand off. “I want to believe you, Vassa, but how can you be sure they didn’t use their magic to lure you over to their side?” she asked, then added, “In New Prythian, they tell us if the Fae who could hold a person’s mind like it was nothing. Who could make it their own with less than a snap of their fingers. How can you be sure they haven’t done the same to you?”

To her utmost surprise, Vassa giggled. “Eris doesn’t have this ability,” she said. “And neither does Lucien—though I imagine he feels very bitter about it.”

A low scoff sounded beside them. “Can you not see me standing here?”

“Either way,” Vassa continued as if Lucien hadn’t spoken at all, “I didn’t simply trust their word, if that’s what you’re afraid of. There is…” she hesitated. “An object.”

Perhaps it was the Merchant’s daughter in her—but Elain’s brows rose. “An object?” she asked, her interest piqued as her mind began running through her father’s collection of truth-enhancing artifacts.

Lucien hissed. “Not here, Vassa.”

Vassa sighed deeply. “Sorry, Elain,” she told her. “You’ll have to be patient with us, I’m afraid.”

Elain huffed. “It’s hard to be patient with a blindfold around my face,” she complained, blowing the loosened cloth away from her mouth. “I can hardly breathe.”

A light step towards her crunched one of the autumn-coloured leaves as long, slender fingers reached for her, gently adjusting the blindfold and pulling it high enough to expose her mouth to the sunlight once again. It was a nice change from Lucien’s talons and Vassa re-tied the piece of fabric—a little tighter this time, yet not tight enough to pull on so much as a strand of hair.

“Thank you,” Elain told her, shoulders relaxing in Vassa’s warm presence.

But it wasn’t Vassa’s voice who spoke back, so close to Elain’s face she could almost feel its owner’s breath on her neck as he pulled back. “You’re welcome,” Lucien said quietly, leaving nothing but a light tingle on her skin.

The memory of his body’s closeness to her own made Elain suck in a breath, and, for the first time, she truly allowed herself to think about the events before she discovered Lucien’s deception. The way he’d swayed her in a dance, a strong hand braced gently on her waist. The way his laugh rasped against her ear as he told her her eyes were the most beautiful he had ever seen—as she had confessed the exact same to him before pressing her mouth to his own.

The reminder of it—the lie, made her empty chest tighten. But before she could take her thanks back, before she could blow up at him for tying her up and taking her from her home all over again, the sound of someone’s steps reached her ears.

Eris stopped by her side, tall and commanding. “If you three are done wasting our time, I suggest we get moving.”

“Let me help you,” Vassa offered, taking Elain by the arm. “This really wasn’t necessary, Eris,” she added pointedly, her gaze palpable on the cloth covering half of Elain’s face.

“I can’t have her running back to the Merchant and spilling all our secrets,” Eris said calmly. “The entrance to the Hold is sealed and has never been opened by anyone who doesn’t bear the Vanserra name.”

And with that, he simply turned and left again.

“So demanding, these males,” Vassa hummed, and, with a light tug as her only invitation, Elain started walking.

The heat of the fire burning atop the pillars signalled that they reached the very centre of the bizarre circle—the entrance to their family hold, Elain suspected from Eris’s words. As much as she hated to admit it, Eris had been smart to demand a blindfold be put on her. Elain would’ve started noting every corner of this place into her mind had she only been able to see them.

Still, she would make do with whatever clues she’d been offered. The ground changed beneath her feet, the heavy echo of stone signalling what had to be a door. The Vanserra Hold laid underground, then—it was not some invisible fortress hidden between the trees she’d initially suspected had been glamoured using whatever remnants of High Lord magic Eris still possessed. If he indeed was the direct descendant of Old Prythian’s Fae regime, Elain needed to be careful. The Fae’s magic had become nothing but a shadow of its past might, but—as Elain had learned—darkness could be haunting if one walked into it blind.

Silently, she cursed the damn blindfold again.

Around her, the flames intensified, and Elain could feel it blaze high up into the sky at whatever command Eris had given it. To have such power over an element, especially one as uncontrollable as fire, filled Elain with unease. Just what, exactly, could the Vanserras do with the fire in their blood?

The stone rattled loudly beneath her feet, and she felt Vassa pull on her arm once more as if to get her to step back. Elain obeyed. She may not have appreciated being taken here, but that hardly meant she’d let herself be swallowed by the depths of the earth itself.

Apparently, she was instead supposed to walk into them of her own volition. The entrance had stopped moving after a few seconds, its final groan sounding in what had to be a hallway stretching underneath. After Vassa murmured something that suspiciously sounded like “stairs,” Elain realised this might take a while.

To have survived this long—five hundred years after the War, to be exact—the Vanserras must have taken all the precautions their magic had allowed for to protect themselves. The Hold must have been carved deep into this enchanted piece of land. Elain couldn’t help but feel some excitement at the thought of being one of the few humans allowed to step foot in it.

Kidnapped or not, she was in Old Prythian. She had visited Braemar only once as a child, and, even so, she had spent the entire trip either in her father’s golden carriage—so unlike the half-rotten wooden wagon Lucien and Eris had her travel in—or the Huntsman’s fortified castle. She wasn’t even allowed outside—not that the Huntsman had any gardens or sights to offer beyond the hunting rounds surrounding his residence. Elain wondered how Vassa must have felt leaving that place for good—seeing the world beyond her father’s iron gates.

Elain had always found ways to occupy herself. The Archeron Manor boasted acres upon acres of rolling green hills, of greenhouses and little fruit orchards Elain tended to on summer days. It was her way of being useful, in whatever way she could. She was not a tactician the way Nesta or her mother had been, or a free spirit like Feyre, sneaking off the family grounds whatever chance she could. Perhaps it was why Elain hadn’t ended up married to one of the most powerful men in the world, like Nesta. Perhaps it was also why she hadn’t ended up killed like Feyre.

The thought made something heavy lodge itself into her throat as she began descending down the stairs. Her quiet life spent conforming to the rules may have avoided her being married to a family as cruel as the Harvester’s, or being taken by the Fae and presumed dead. But, about to discover the trove of one of the most ancient magical families Prythian had ever seen, Elain couldn’t help but wonder if she ever truly lived at all.

Nesta had hardly written her at all these days, kept under the Harvester’s close watch, but Elain had no doubt her older sister’s scheming did not end with her marriage. And Feyre—her wild, wonderful Feyre—while she hadn’t lived very long, Elain knew that, if given another chance, Feyre would not have let herself be trapped in their family’s manor for the sake of something as fleeting as safety.

Perhaps, eventually, she would have run away the way Vassa had, which brought Elain back to the question she’d been meaning to ask ever since that awful carriage ride to the Hold.

“How on earth did you manage to kill twelve men on your own?” she turned to Vassa, grimacing at yet another wet drop of watery mud gracing the top of her head. From the amount of cracks in the ceiling, Elain deduced the Vanserra Hold was a lot older than five hundred years—perhaps twice that, or even more.

“You don’t get to be the Huntsman’s daughter without learning how to fight,” Vassa said, a sly smile creeping into her tone. “I became a warrior on the day I learned how to stand.” Then, “I could teach you, if you’d like,” she offered.

“Oh, I’m no warrior,” Elain said. Someone like Feyre or Nesta may have taken her up on the offer, but Elain…

“Just because you’re not a warrior doesn’t mean you can’t learn how to fight—to defend yourself,” Vassa said. “Lucien isn’t a warrior, but I can assure you he knows how to land a strike or two.”

Somewhere behind them, Lucien scoffed. “Excuse me—“

“Oh, shut it,” Vassa interrupted, much to Elain’s content.

The corridor rumbled with a snarl in answer.

Elain jerked her chin pointedly at Lucien. “He sure seems like a warrior to me,” she told Vassa, who laughed at the comment.

“Lucien commands one of our legions, but his primary role is diplomatic in nature.” Elain felt her shrug. “He’s an emissary—sometimes even a courtier, when the situation demands it.”

Elain arched an eyebrow. “Courtier?” She scoffed. “I’ll make sure to advise all the other human courts to keep him off the guest list.”

Courtier. The Fae certainly had some way of showing it. As far as political envoys went, Elain was pretty sure she’d never heard of kidnapping their host being one of their responsibilities.

Lucien seemed entirely unbothered by her not-so-subtle dig. “I have no desire to attend your human parties—if you can even call them that—ever again,” he said.

Rude. “Looks like he could use some additional training,” she said to Vassa. The woman laughed again, apparently all too happy to play witness to their exchange.

Lucien hummed lowly, the sound reverberating into her bones. “You seemed to find my presence perfectly enjoyable, Princess,” he teased, the stupid nickname quickly prompting the return of the anger she’d been stifling.

Lucien Vanserra was such a liar.

“Is he always this insufferable?” Elain asked gruffly.

Vassa’s chuckle danced off the stone walls. “Oh, yes,” she told her. “Worse, even.”

Elain didn’t get the chance to play along—the entire party came to a halt.

She heard the crackling of flames again, followed by a quiet whisper of something she couldn’t quite discern from Eris’s lips—and then, a loud grunt of heavy, wooden doors, protesting against the clearly rusted, iron hinges.

Vassa led her into the room, an almost indiscernible gust of wind greeting them as they entered. Elain felt the wooden panels beneath her feet—then a balustrade, smooth and polished as though recently renewed. She rested her hands on the wood, then reached out only to find an empty space.

A pair of hands reached the knot tied at the back of her head, working smoothly to undo it. Elain nearly sighed with relief as the material fell from her face, and her gaze immediately darted to follow its direction.

It did not rest discarded on the floor—no, her blindfold kept on floating downwards, down what had to be at least ten stories built deep into the core of the earth, each of them a trove for the Vanserras’—for Prythian’s—most ancient history.

Books, tomes so old she could make out their yellowed pages from the balustrade overlooking the cylindrical space—filled every shelf along with scrolls Elain’s trained eyes couldn’t even begin to try to date. Chests, scattered and squeezed into every empty corner, It did not rest discarded on the floor—no, her blindfold kept on floating downwards, down what had to be at least ten stories built deep into the core of the earth, each of them a trove for the Vanserras’—for Prythian’s—most ancient history.

Books, tomes so old she could make out their yellowed pages from the balustrade overlooking the cylindrical space—filled every shelf along with scrolls Elain’s trained eyes couldn’t even begin to try to date. Chests, scattered and squeezed into every empty space, containing what Elain had to imagine were artifacts the family had gathered over the course of their entire lineage. Sofas, ottomans and small, cushioned puffs waiting at every level, as if to provide reprieve for every Vanserra wishing to take a moment to study the knowledge and wisdom of his ancestors. The entire place had been crafter of warm, auburn wood, with small globes of fire trapped within stained glass floating around calmly, illuminating the space.

It was a library. It was a treasury. It was a home.

Eris led them to the left of the small balcony, then through a foyer where the staircase to the first downstairs level stretched out, and a door waited patiently to let new visitors in. Eris ignored the staircase, much to Elain’s disappointment, and wrapped a freckled hand around the golden handle—then twisted.

They walked into an unassuming, circular study, with red sofas and a large, heavy desk placed at the back of the room. The entire wall was clad in paintings—some of them portraits of the Vanserras of old, most brown or red-headed, all with a piercing, fiery stare—and others displaying scenes of a hunt, with the family mounting proud stallions and flaunting red banners, hoardes of greyhounds running at their side.

The Vanserras, Elain realised right there and then, had once been royalty.

“Stay here,” Eris instructed, as if thoroughly unimpressed by the scenes laid out before him. “Vassa, I need you with me,” he then said, and, without so much as turning over his shoulder, went out the door.

The only thing Vassa offered Elain before following in the High Lord’s footsteps was a rather exaggerated roll of her eyes. “All those centuries, and they never learned to say please.”

***

Because luck seemed to have made its personal nemesis out of Lucien, he was left in the room with Elain Archeron. Alone.

He did not support Eris’s decision to bring her into the Hold. It had always been a trove of their family’s legacy, and, more importantly, their secrets tha Elain was not privy to. With the exception of a few close allies, no living beings apart from Lucien and his brother knew about this place, and Lucien preferred to keep it that way. There were so few places he could call home these days.

The truth, as Vassa had so eloquently put it, could have been revealed to Elain somewhere else. As far as Lucien was concerned, the Merchant’s daughter, of all people, had no business stepping foot into the Vanserra Hold.

But, for some reason far beyond Lucien’s imagination, Eris wanted her here, even when her family had proven time and time again they were not to be trusted.

He would speak to his brother about this later. For now, apparently, he was Elain Archeron’s assigned guard dog.

Lucien dared a glance at the human Princess, and regretted it almost immediately. As much as he didn’t enjoy her presence in his home, she might very well have been the most beautiful thing that had ever made its way into the Vanserra thought.

He could almost feel his ancestors’ sharp looks of disapproval from the portraits above him, as if they had heard the traitorous thought. They haven’t spent much time alone, and yet, whenever the two of them had found themselves with no company to interrupt them, Lucien had a hard time remembering what Elain truly was. It felt strange—that something so beautiful could have come from a lineage of such monsters.

There was simply something about the way she took in her surroundings, wide-eyed with the awe written all over her face—as though she could feel the magic buzzing in this place. It lit up her features like the fire shining above them, like the sunlight warming the entrance to the Hold, turning her brown eyes into pure, liquid honey.

There was some wariness etched into her face, too, though. She must have recognised exactly how much power this place housed, and how unmatched she stood in comparison had she tried to run away again. Clever little thing—he could practically see the wheels of her mind turning, cataloguing every image, every object into the pages of her memory to report to her father later.

Over Lucien’s dead body would he ever let that happen. 

“I have to ask,” Elain’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “What was so horrible about our human parties?”

Lucien blinked—how she’d always managed to catch him off guard, he did not know, and frankly, he didn’t want to. Perhaps it truly was some magic the Archerons passed down to one another generation after generation. Perhaps it was in their blood to be the thorn in the Vanserras’ side.

Their conversation from a few minutes ago flitted back into his memory. What wasn’t wrong with the humans’ dreadful balls and ceremonies, really?

He told her exactly that. “They lack…life. You walk into the room and the very air drowns you.” He shook his head, recalling the engagement festivities arranged by her father. “It’s impressive at first, I’ll give you that—the walls and chandeliers dripping in gold, and the finest cuisine the world has to offer.” He grimaced. “But then, the music starts playing—and it may be performed by some of the most sought after quartets in Prythian, but…”

Elain’s perfect brows rose an inch. “But?”

“The dancing—all of it, really—it feels like a chore. A formality required to earn some standing in society. Your parties,” Lucien added, the word he’d been chasing finally finding its way onto his lips, “feel like a contract. The dullness, the lacklustre monotony of it—

Elain huffed. “Alright, I get the picture,” she interrupted, but Lucien hadn’t missed the curiosity in her gaze as she side eyed the scenes of the hunt stretched out beside them. “What are your parties like, then?” she asked.

It may have been the longest the two of them had spoken since the ball, Lucien realised. So little time had passed since then that it almost felt as though they were continuing their conversation from the night before. “I’m only a little over four hundred years old,” he told her, ignoring the shock parting her mouth at his words. “I never got to witness my predecessors’ celebrations before the War, or any of their holidays for that matter. A shame, really.” He felt his mouth twitch. “One of those holidays, I think I would have been a most devoted participant of.”

“I have a feeling I know where this is going—something terribly Fae and uncouth.”

“Quite,” Lucien agreed, unable to keep the grin off his face. Something told him he was going to enjoy scandalising this female—this woman—his mind immediately corrected, but he ignored the voice anyway. “In most parts of the world, they called it Calanmai, or Fire Night. It originated in the Spring Court, actually—the lands your family has claimed as New Prythian.”

Elain frowned. “We do not have any such holidays in our records.”

Lucien scoffed. “Of course not. I don’t imagine you humans would have found it appropriate by any means. Calanmai was a celebration of the coming of spring—and in the Court itself, it was a most sacred ritual performed by the High Lord to imbue magic into the land. Think of bonfires, thousands of them, lighting up every hill, smoke lilting into the stars. Drums, loud and echoing into the night. And wine—so much of it that you’d end up falling asleep under the sky, waking up to the spring breeze in your hair. The sun warming your face.”

Lucien cleared his throat. “Or, at least, that is how it was described to me.”

He could have sworn something pink heated in Elain’s cheeks. “I could see it, you know. You being a courtier—when you’re not such a condescending asshole, that is.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “I have never met a Princess so crass before,” he purred, deeply revelling in the resentment she bore for the nickname. How could she not be a Princess, though? Everything about her stance radiated command as she crossed her arms in disdain, her full lips pursing and those doe-like eyes flashing with challenge.

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

Lucien’s mouth twitched. “And I told you I’ll call you whatever I like,” he said. “Comes with the Asshole title, I’m afraid.”

Delighted, he watched as Elain whirled back to the Vanserra family portraits, murmuring something that suspiciously like prick and ridiculous, even her ears flushing that warm, lovely pink. Lucien smiled to himself.

“So, what was the ritual?” Elain’s voice reached him, still gruff as she focused on the rather unpleasant profile of Lucien’s great-great grandfather.

“Ritual?” Lucien questioned, his attention refusing to step back as far as two minutes ago for reasons unbeknownst to him.

Finally, Elain turned to him again. “Calanmai,” she reminded him.

Right. Lucien coughed again. “As I mentioned, infusing magic back into the land was the primary aim of the celebrations—it was the High Lord’s obligation to perform what was called the Great Rite.”

Elain’s brows knitted. “And how, exactly, was he supposed to do that?”

The grin made its way back Lucien’s face as he explained, “Every year, the High Lord of the Spring Court allowed the power of the Rite into his veins. Transformed into a beast, a creature of the very essence of spring, he would allow it to seize his body, his mind, his senses entirely.” He met Elain’s gaze directly as he added. “Each year, the magic would choose a Maiden—usually one of the members of Calanmai celebrations—a companion for the High Lord to…complete the Rite.”

Elain’s eyes widened. “They—they would—”

“Fuck, yes,” Lucien completed for her with a wave of his hand, eliciting a small gasp from Elain’s lips. He chuckled. “And, with the act, they would ah, release the magic into the land. To allow crops to grow healthier, of course.”

The silence hung between them long enough that Lucien couldn’t help but tease her some more. “Something wrong, little fawn?” he asked, realising that he was indeed thoroughly enjoying this—and that perhaps it was a good thing Eris or Vassa weren’t here to scold him for scandalising their guest a step too far. In his defence, Elain had asked him first.

“Your parties sound outrageous,” Elain finally said, that heat in her cheeks rising.

Lucien winked. “That’s exactly what parties should be, Princess.”

Elain smiled at that—a true smile, the kind she’d offered Vassa when she first saw her at the camp. The same kind she’d offered him when she hadn’t yet thought him an utter monster. “Is that why you brought me here? To show me how to throw better parties?”

Lucien choked. “Show you?”

The picture of it invaded his mind without warning—an image of him and Elain partying the way Lucien’s ancestors demanded it. A cave, lit up by faelight and thrumming with magic, their bodies naked and intertwined on the mossy earth, its fragrance mixing with their sweat. Elain laid out bare beneath him, her breasts heaving up and down in panting, shallow breaths as he entered her, so perfect and ready for his taking, his—

Lucien sucked in a breath, nearly choking again on the force of it, the force of the picture pushed back into the darkest, most secret corners of his mind. Eris and Vassa should have been here after all, if only to remind him of what happened the last time Lucien Vanserra had decided to trust a human like Elain Archeron.

Because she was a human. And the humans—the humans took his mother. His father, however horrible he had been. His brothers. They had nearly taken Eris, too, and Lucien’s heart right with it.

Lucien would not let it happen again. He would not let another Jesminda into his life.

“Of course,” he said tightly, “My people’s traditions would not have faded from common memory had it not been for you humans.” He shrugged. “As for why we brought you here—take it up with Eris. If it were for me, I would have never brought you into the Hold.”

He could see it—the way Elain’s smile faded. The confusion filling her shining stare, blending into hurt, so sharp it could no doubt pierce his own chest if she only stepped in closely enough.

Lucien could see it all, and the worst part of it was that he hated himself for it.

“We brought you into the Hold,” Eris voice sounded from a place Lucien was not yet ready to return to yet as his brother walked back into the study, Vassa falling into step beside him, “Because it was the safest place to show you this.”

In a few long strides, Eris reached the desk, and placed the heavy object right at its middle, the wood croaking slightly under its weight. A thick red fabric—an old Vanserra banner, from the looks of it—covered the globe entirely. Eris motioned for Elain to step in closer—and she did, as if drawn by the mystery of it alone. Lucien, though—Lucien remained frozen in place.

“This,” Eris began, placing his hand atop the smooth surface, “is the Veritas Orb.” In one, swift motion, he slid the banner off, revealing one of their family’s most prized and priceless possessions. The Orb shone a quiet, crystalline light, as though somehow made of all the colours and none of them at all, humming gently at the closeness of its owner’s hand—as if begging. Touch me. Talk to me. Ask me.

But Eris turned from its whisper—and looked at the Merchant’s daughter who stood in utter shock, mesmerised by the treasure laid out right before her.

“So, Elain Archeron.” Eris smiled. “Are you ready to learn the truth?”

[zuppizup]

End of the world

Previous - First Kiss (again)

Rayla feels the blade bite into her neck and gasps despite herself. The vines around her wrists and ankles hold her securely, though not cruelly.

Callum lurches forward, gripping his staff that bit tighter.

“Uh uh.” Claudia uses Rayla’s horn to wrench her neck even further back, pressing the blade tighter still. “Not one more step.”

“Let her go, Claudia!” Callum’s eyes dart between hers and Claudia’s.

“Gladly, Callum.” She nods at the bag slung over his back. “Pass me the Cube and you can both walk away from here.”

“No, Callum!” Rayla yells out. She has no idea what Claudia wants with the Cube, but she knows if the Dark Mage wants it, the last thing Callum can do is hand it over to her. A second later there’s a flash of light, then a searing pain across her cheek and she realises Claudia has cut her.

“No!” Callum cries out, rushing towards them.

“One more step.” Claudia hisses, her blade once again at Rayla’s neck. “One more… You wouldn’t believe what I can do with just this.”

Rayla can’t see, but she assumes Claudia is referring to the blood trickling down her cheek.

Callum stops, lowering his staff in defeat.

“Drop it.” Claudia nods at the staff. “Kick it over here.”

Callum’s eyes find Rayla’s again and she sees him nod just a fraction, like he’s trying to reassure her. She inhales to object but Claudia’s blade presses against her throat.

Callum swallows, eyes on the knife as he crouches down and places his staff on the forest floor. Getting to his feet, he does as Claudia insists and kicks it clumsily across the rough ground. Terry bends down and picks it up.

“Getting quite the collection, eh babe?” Claudia smirks, but keeps her eyes on Callum.

Terry doesn’t respond, eyes darting around the clearing.

“Excellent,” Claudia nods at Callum’s shoulder. “Now, the Cube.”

Swallowing, Callum hesitates, clearly struggling to follow through. “What are you going to do with it?”

“That’s none of your concern.” Claudia grips Rayla’s horn tighter. “Hand it over.”

“Claudia, you don’t understand. Aaravos-”

“Aaravos cares about humans. He’s going to help us even the odds.” Claudia sneers at him, and Rayla can’t help but inhale as the blade presses tighter, her skin stinging.

“Stop!” Callum reaches for her, his brow furrowed. “Claudia, please!”

“Enough!” She stands firm, sounding a little more composed. “The Cube. Now.”

“Callum, you can’t-” Rayla pleads, trying to ignore Claudia’s scoff of annoyance.

“Can you keep it down?” She rolls her eyes, reaching into her bag and pulling out some sort of petrified claw. “Htaerb eht laets!”

Rayla’s stomach turns as red light streaks towards her, worms it’s way down her throat before retreating with something.

Immediately she gasps, wanting to clutch at her neck. It’s like she can’t breathe, like the air is catching in her throat as she struggles against her bonds.

“No! ”Callum rushes forward before Claudia grips her by the horn, the blade once again on her throat.

Rayla can barely concentrate on anything now as she gasps and sputters.

“No more games.” Claudia’s voice has lost the mocking tone. “I have no idea how long she can survive like this, but we can test it...”

Callum takes a deep breath as he pulls the bag from his back and retrieves the nondescript looking cube.

“Terry?” Claudia glances at him, nodding at the Cube in Callum’s hand.

He steps forward slowly, seeming to hesitate before he takes it from Callum’s outstretched hand.

Smirking, Claudia let’s go of Rayla’s horn, sheathing her dagger. “Always nice seeing you guys.” She strides over to Terry, giving him a peck on the cheek.

Terry’s eyes glow as he waves his arms and the vines holding Rayla upright begin to retreat. She collapses onto the cave floor, fingers clutching her throat.

Callum rushes to her, pulling at her remaining bonds, eyes frantic as she continues to struggle for air. “Claudia, you promised!”

“Claudia.” Terry holds the Cube back just a fraction when the Dark Mage reaches for it.

Sighing, Claudia rolls her eyes, turning back to Callum and Rayla. “I suppose I did.” Shrugging, she raises the paw again, the light returning to Rayla’s throat.

Rayla takes a deep, desperate breath, hands gripping Callum as he holds her and speaks soothing words.

But they don’t have time for that. Claudia and Terry are already rushing away, escaping, and it’s all her fault. She let herself get captured. Claudia and Viren have the final piece of the puzzle and she practically handed it to them.

She tries to crawl forward, to chase after Claudia and Terry and the Cube as Callum pleads with her to stop, to rest, to recover and...then the clearing goes black.

Next - End of the World

[hannahhook7744]

The Day(s) We Met.

Chapter 2: Joyce 'Joy' Penelope Foxworth.

Summary: Hannah Hook meets Joyce 'Joy' Penelope Foxworth. 

Trigger Warnings: smuggling. 

Co-written with @casinotrio1965 .

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

Hannah opened the door to the room FG had pointed her to. Keeping a tight grip on her bags and shooting Skia (who was in her crow form still) a stern look—silently telling her to stay in that form until they knew that they were alone. 

Joy, who was watching her pet bunny Taffy run around, looked up and saw a strange girl in pirate getup.

“Oh hi,” Joy started. “Are you my new roommate?”

“Aye.” Hannah looked around the room, trying not to grimace at the third bed that obviously had been half-hazardly shoved in there. Most likely recently.

“Nice to meet you ! I’m Joy—” She pauses to pick up her pet bunny . “And this is Taffy !’

“Nice… to meet you too?” Hannah hummed, not sure what else to say. “Uh. This is…Rogue—” she gestured to Skia, coming up with a name on the spot. “And this—” she gestured to her pet owl, who was on her other shoulder. “Is Icarus.”

Her pet raccoon hissed from his cage. “Oh, and that's Midas.”

“Cool pets but… Icarus isn't gonna eat my rabbit is he? Cuz…” Starts Whispering, so Taffy won’t Hear . “Owls in the wild eat rabbits for breakfast”

“No, he won't. He's well trained, I promise. But if it 

makes you feel better, I'll keep him in his cage when Taffy is out.” Hannah offered, figuring she should at least try to get along with her roommates. 

“Thank you. That means a lot!” Joy said very relieved. “So … tell me about yourself . If you want to—”

Hannah interrupted, trying her best to look apologetic and not on edge. Silently  hoping that River hadn't been caught hiding at the docs yet and that Luke still had plenty of air from where he was hiding in her suitcase. “Uh, sorry to interrupt but I thought there were supposed to be two of you?”

“Oh! You must mean Amira! Yeah she’s taking her pet tiger for a walk . Don’t worry she’ll be with us shortly…” 

“Nice, nice. I'm guessing this is my bed? Unless it's for Amira's Tiger or one of yours?” Hannah gestured to the bed closest to the door. 

“No, that’s your bed for sure !” 

“Right. Thank you. So…. Wanna tell me about yourself?”

“Sure! My  hobbies are History, reading, listening to music, animals, animal care, sailing, treasure hunting, fishing, playing games, pizza, climbing, singing, and yodeling.”

Hannah was thinking more like what her last name was and who her family were but she wasn't gonna complain. Any excuse to unpack was good enough for her. 

“My mom Is Jenny Foxworth and my dad is Nibs Darling who used to be a lost boy for Peter Pan himself!”

“Oh. Cool… I'm uh, Hannah Hook. But I'm guessing you already knew that.”

“Yeah FG Informed us ahead of time .. So what’s Hook like as a dad?”

“Uh, like any other dad I guess?... I'm not sure.”

“Oh right.. Sorry. So What do you like to do for fun?” Joy asked sheepishly, embarrassed.

Hannah sat down on her bed. “Sailing, writing, playing games…drawing. Sword fighting. Treasure hunting. Reading. Lots of things.”

“No way! I like sailing, playing games and treasure hunting too! Guess we have three things in common!”

“Sweet—also does this place have a bathroom? I really gotta go.” It was a lie but the redhead didn't need to know that. 

“Uh yeah right next to our shared closet .. “

“Alrighty then. I'll be right back.” Hannah smiled nervously, before heading to the bathroom with the suitcase that held Luke in it. 

Leaving Joy behind to think that her and Amira's new roommate was more than a little odd.

[big-ass-magnet]

Relatively Speaking, This Will Probably Be Fine (Ch 1 of a LOT)

Fandom: Girl Genius Rating: T Summary: Everyone knows Agatha Sannikova can't be a Heterodyne, even if she did arrive mysteriously one night to live with Lady Teodora and Lord Saturnus. She's got those headaches, and she's not too bright - she's not even a Spark! She does get along quite well with Lord Saturnus, which is a bit odd, but she's had a very good affect on his health. Lady Teodora doesn't like the kind of, er, "life lessons" he's tried to teach her, but Agatha hasn't set anyone on fire or unleashed any terrifying monstrosities on the town.

...what do you mean, tempting fate?

A prequel to 'Helpful, in a Heterodyne Sort of Way'!

AO3 link

For naturelly blod wil ay of kynde / Draw unto blod, wher he may it fynde.

Troy Book, by John Lydgate, 1412

The first thing Barry did when his mother opened the door was put his finger to his lips. All the same, her cry of delight nearly slipped free, choked back at the last minute when she saw the figure fast asleep in his arms. Barry slipped inside and Teodora hurriedly shut the door.

“Barry,” she whispered, tears in her eyes.

He hugged her as hard as he could without disturbing Agatha, breathing in the scent of her perfume and taking in the familiar walls of his childhood home and feeling almost—almost—safe.

“Bill…?” she asked, hopefully, and Barry shook his head. Teodora looked to Agatha, still out like a light with her cheek on Barry’s shoulder.

“Bill’s girl,” he said, softly. “Agatha.”

Teodora’s eyes went wide and wondering. She reached out with trembling fingers and barely touched the girl’s hair.

"She's beautiful. But...how, when—?"

“Let me put her to bed, first,” he said, softly. “We’ve been on the road all day.”

“Take her upstairs to Bill’s old room,” Teodora told him. “And I’ll put sheets on the guest bed.”

“I’ll just sleep in my old room.”

“Your father’s in your room.”

Barry stopped dead, one foot on the stairs.

“What do you mean he’s in my room?”

It was Teodora’s turn to shush him. She led the way up the stairs, gesturing for Barry to follow. Only when Agatha was tucked into bed—shoes and glasses set aside, snuggled down into the pillow without so much as a peep—and Teodora and Barry were downstairs again, did she answer.

“It’s the only bedroom on the first floor,” Teodora said. “It meant he didn’t have to take the stairs.”

“What, did he break his legs?” Barry hissed, struggling to keep his voice down. “What’s he doing here in the first place? He said you’d get him out of the castle feet first—”

The look on Teodora’s face made him stop.

“You didn’t know,” she said more than asked.

“What didn’t I know?” A strange panic rose up in his chest. “What happened?”

When Barry was a child, his father had been a distant giant, the monster who lived at the top of the hill. In Barry’s memories, he towered over them, eternally frustrated, loud and short-tempered. From a young age, both Bill and Barry were aware they could never make both parents happy. They had chosen Teodora—and their father knew it. Even in adulthood, when he’d mysteriously stepped aside and allowed Bill to take control of the city, he’d been a rancorous figure, always ready and waiting to tell them what they were doing wrong, and why they were a disappointment, a stain on the family name.

So Barry couldn’t say he’d liked his father. He wasn’t even sure he loved his father. But it was impossible to look at him now and not feel pity.

Saturnus was half-lost in the bed, frail, almost skeletal, a shadow’s shadow of the man Barry had known all his life. A handful of tubes and wires snaked from under the covers, across the floor, and connected to clicking, humming machines squatting where his desk had once been.

“The machines keep him alive?”

“Keep him comfortable,” Teodora said. “Doctor Sun says he’s too stubborn to die, but not stubborn enough to get better.”

She waved him out of the room and shut the door behind her.

“What happened?” Barry asked. “I didn’t hear anything about this.”

“It was his way of…dealing with it, I suppose. He couldn’t…couldn’t fix…everything else.” Her voice trembled, briefly. “But he could fix the castle. But it was all he would do. He was working on it day and night, forgot to eat, barely slept. The heart attack was inevitable.”

She sighed, heavily.

“Of course, he couldn’t stay in the castle after that—it was far too dangerous, and he couldn’t manage the hill. Then Klaus came, took the town, took the Jӓgers…I think that hurt more than anything. Not being able to protect them. You know how important that was to him.”

Barry winced. Oh yes. He remembered. It was the one and only argument about the town his father ever won. Even now he could picture his father standing over Bill, ashen faced and wild-eyed.

I stood by while you turned this city into a, a mummer's play, but I will not let my son be the first of our line to fail his people! You would take innocent people--your people--and throw them to the wolves? The world drove those monsters out and we welcomed them home! They serve us faithfully and in return we protect them!

Do your duty, William Heterodyne!

He couldn’t imagine the damage it had done to his father’s pride to be forced to admit he couldn’t protect the Jӓgers, to have them leave to serve someone else.

To have to let them leave.

“He didn't want to leave the house after that. He sat indoors, wasting away. A year ago he had a stroke and, well.” She shook her head.

“Is he…?”

“He’s in there. Dr Sun said most of the damage was physical, and he could regain at least some mobility if he tried but...Well. I just don't think he sees the point in coming back.” She sighed. “I would never say anyone suffering like this deserved it, but sometimes I do wonder if it’s a judgement. You couldn’t come up with a better hell for Saturnus if you tried.”

Barry said nothing. It was hard to argue that. His mother put her hand to his cheek and smiled sadly.

“It’s so wonderful to have you home.”

Guilt stung, and his mother saw it on his face, her smile fading.

“You’re not staying.”

“Agatha isn’t safe. There are people looking for her—I can’t give you details, not now. I’ve been keeping on the move, but she’s getting older and…it’s starting to get to her. She needs stability, but I need to keep her identity hidden.”

“And you brought her to Mechanicsburg?”

“It wasn’t my first choice,” Barry insisted. “I was going to take her to Beetleburg, to live with Punch and Judy. “

“That is a much better idea,” Teodora said.

“I can’t. The Wulfenbach Empire just rolled in and made Beetleburg a vassal state.”

Teodora looked blank.

“You think Klaus is a threat to Agatha?”

“Yes.”

The tone of his voice and the look on his face was apparently enough that Teodora needed to ask no more questions, although she looked uncertain.

“But you’re bringing the Heterodyne to Mechanicsburg; that’s hardly going to go unnoticed.”

“I’m not bringing the Heterodyne. Agatha Sannikova’s parents were friends of your sons. They went missing during the war and her uncle looked after her for a while, but sent her to stay with you.”

Teodora looked askance.

“That’s a big lie for an eight-year-old to remember.”

Barry looked away.

“It’s not a lie, as far as she knows.”

He got no immediate response. When his mother spoke, it was in a stern, sharp voice that had made Bill and Barry both cough up confessions of all levels of severity—from childhood mischief to the time Bill had accidentally set fire to the sewer system a year into his tenure as lord of Mechanicsburg.  

“What is going on, Barry?”

 “I can’t tell her. She’s a little girl, she’ll slip up! So…so she thinks our names are a coincidence, and she’s not supposed to show anyone the pictures in the locket.”

“And how long do you intend to lie to her?"

“Until I can finish this. Please don’t ask for details, I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

“Barry—”

He told her what the locket did. It was the first time he’d told anyone. His mother held him tightly and he wept to hear someone tell him he wasn’t a monster for what he’d done.

“There is no easy choice,” she whispered, her hand on his neck. “Sometimes there is no right answer. We must do the best with what God gives us.”

His mother's faith had always been a source of strength throughout everything that had happened to her. It was unusual in Mechanicsburg, but no one would begrudge her any comfort, in her circumstances. At least two popes were talking about canonizing her, although she'd always demurred such an honor.

Barry felt it best not to tell her that it had been a long time since he'd felt he'd managed to do his best at anything — and even longer since he'd stopped believing in any kind of god.

Next Chapter

[basket-of-cats-and-witches]

Lost Oasis

This is more or less a rewrite of the 5 star card for Love and Deepspace, as a friend got me into this otome game and now I'm in brainrot. Altogether I've written over 50k words in a month (not that you'll see most of it), and all of it is because of this silly little game.

Love that for me.

For Sylus x my OC, Kit, his occasionally feral Second in command. She's not the MC.

This is very, uhhh. Risque. I wouldn't classify it as nsfw because if it was it would be on my Ao3, not here. Also, as I said, it's a rewrite, so I changed the tone to something I felt was very appropriate for the hints that were dropped in this newest card for Sylus's backstory 👀. Give me more, Infold.

Anyway, enjoy! Likes and reblogs encourage me to write more because it tells me people enjoy my writing.

----

It's disgustingly hot.

There's something about dry heat that puts Kit on edge, as if all the moisture is being sucked from her body.

She grimaces at the bright sun, as if by sheer will she can scare it off below the horizon.

The motorcycle flying down the strip towards her is her only reprieve.

Sylus hops off, his long legs effortlessly graceful as always. As he takes off his helmet, she can't help but scowl.

“Why the hell is it that you have practically perfect hair all the time? You should be as sweaty and nasty as I am. And is this a new motorcycle we're going to have to ship home?”

Sylus snorts, leaning against the bike and crossing his arms. “Scolding me already, kitten? And here I thought you would have missed me.”

Her face flushes. “Of course I missed you,” she hisses. “Dumb crow.”

He raises an eyebrow, waiting.

A moment or two passes as Kit stubbornly digs her heels in.

Sylus doesn't rise to the bait. There's an odd air to him, a tired restlessness and a lack of reaction that immediately unnerves her.

Kit gives in and trots over, reaching for him and squawking in surprise when he sets a helmet over her head instead.

“Wh- Sylus!”

“Get on,” he replies, his tone clipped. “We have a bit of a drive ahead of us.”

The entire ride had been unsettling. Sylus is usually handsy, even on the road, shouting back and forth with her playfully.

This time, he's been quiet, only touching her when she shifts her posture, a firm grasp on her hands around his waist to keep her in place.

When he finally parks, Kit looks around, curious. It's a little village in the middle of nowhere, the desert surrounding them on all sides and stretching out to the horizon.

She pulls off the helmet, grimacing when her hair sticks to her everything.

“So sweaty,” she mumbles, more to herself than anything. Sylus's strange behavior makes her reluctant to pester him too much.

His hand settles on the top of her head, ruffling her hair.

She squawks as it makes the problem worse. “Well? What do you think?”

Kit huffs. “I think you made my hair into a nest for Mephisto. Also that this doesn't seem like a skirmish on the border. This village is far too quaint for that. Why am I here?”

He hums, but doesn't respond. Out of the corner of her eye, Kit sees a young man drop out of a tree. He's scarred, the line of it breaking up the natural flow of his face. She glances at Sylus, following his gaze across the plaza. An old woman approaches.

Kit’s stomach twists, and she frowns. “Are there…Wanderers around here? I mean I suppose there must be, we're too far away from a bigger city.”

Still, Sylus doesn't respond, leaning down so the woman can touch his forehead.

He glances at Kit. “Come here.”

As she does so, the woman takes her hand, pressing it to her wrinkled forehead.

Kit repeats the gesture back instantly. She knows Sylus would have warned her otherwise if it had meant anything other than a greeting.

The young man nearby cheers.

“...did I just agree to something?” She glances sidelong at Sylus.

He nods with a slight smirk. “The young man needs some training to deal with a problem. I knew you would be good for the job.”

Within moments, she finds out what the ‘problem’ is.

“Ah,” she says tiredly. “I see. A big fuck-off lizard. Why didn't you just kill it? Is this some weird machismo rite of passage?”

Sylus stands beside her, and for some strange reason, she feels as if she's tuned into his frequency. He's not touching her, has barely paid attention to her, and yet her skin buzzes in anticipation.

“It's his to kill,” Sylus replies evenly. He ignores the way she scowls at the lack of detail. “I figured you would be better than I would at teaching.”

Kit rolls her shoulders with a sigh. “You seem to do just fine when you're beating my ass in boxing. How am I supposed to teach with a language barrier, exactly?”

He arches an eyebrow, and she sighs again. She knows the “figure it out” eyebrow when she sees it.

“Sy, be my Wanderer.”

He blinks, giving her an odd look. “Oh?”

If she didn't know better, she would say that she startled him with that.

Kit takes his wrist, ignoring the instant full body shiver that she has. “I'm not getting close to that fucking thing, so I need a pretend creature of my own to show the kid.”

“You need a monster,” he says bluntly, using the word she was dancing around.

Kit winces. “Unless you want me to do it.”

Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head with a smile. “The things I do for you, sweetie.” His voice is warmer, but still off. “Show us how it's done, Master Kit.”

As the wind spins and twirls around them, spiraling dust and sand in golden ribbons, Kit does her best to teach. Some things are physical, which is a relief. One does not always need words to train the body how to fight.

She and Sylus run through several rounds of fake sparring. Every time they get close to each other, her heart stutters, and she feels nervous. It's unbecoming of an assassin, and yet she can't stop it.

Since they became lovers, she finds herself far more reactive to just about everything that he does, and it aggravates her just as much as it endears her.

Still, that shadow is unshakable. Somewhere in this desert, Sylus carries a demon that she cannot see.

She doesn't know how to kill something intangible like that. It itches at the back of her mind even as she points out weak spots and corrects posture.

As the day stretches on, the boy ends up copying Kit too well, leaping at Sylus. Kit tenses instinctively.

However, he knocks the boy away with ease, a testament to how far the teenager still has to go.

“Does he think you're a real Wanderer?” Kit mutters.

Sylus snorts in response.

The training is called off, and the old woman pushes the couple into the bathroom to clean up.

Kit frowns as she holds up the water canister. “Sylus?”

He hums a query, rinsing soap out of his hair. “What is it? Hold it higher.”

She does as told, feeling her arms ache. “Are you okay? You've been…off.”

He chuckles, his voice echoing through the room. “Have I? It's been some time since I've been here.”

Blinking in surprise, she shifts on her feet. Acting as a makeshift shower head is proving to be exhausting in itself. “You did seem familiar with those two. Friends of yours?”

“Not really,” he replies. Kit relaxes a little as he continues to talk, the most he's spoken all day. “I met the woman when I was stranded in the desert. I would have been carrion food otherwise.”

There's an entire wealth of questions in that answer, and Kit settles for the easiest. “She saved you?”

“No. She walked out, and I followed her. Kit, the water.”

Kit looks at the canister and swears. “Shit. That's all of it.”

There's a long sigh, and Sylus steps out. Rivulets of water run down the length of his body, catching on every ridge of muscle.

He looks mildly irritated, and Kit can't help but poke the crow, so to speak.

“I think you need to drink more water, Boss. You shouldn't be this shrink-wrapped with muscle unless you haven't been hydrating enough.”

Whether it's the remark or the fact that she slips up and calls him ‘Boss’ like she used to, Sylus's expression takes on a predatorial edge, and warning bells go off in her mind.

There's a set to his shoulders that curls forward, the muscles in his bare legs tensing. She tries to flee, only to be grabbed by a pair of powerful arms.

Kit yelps, squirming in his grasp. “You're getting my clothes wet!”

“Good idea,” he growls. “A towel is exactly what I need. Now be a good girl and help your ‘boss’ dry off.”

Trying to get out of his arms, she feels his teeth set against her neck. She freezes in place.

He walks their entwined bodies towards the slick wall of the shower, raising a hand. A towel whips through the air into it.

Spinning her around, he presses the towel against her. “Dry me. Don't miss a spot.”

Irritation rises in her stomach, making her indignant.

“You-!” She bites out. “You've been grumpy and short with me since I got here!” Kit shoves the towel back at him, furiously wiping him down even as she snarls.

“I have been trying to follow your orders all day. ‘Kit, teach this kid’ ‘Kit, pour water on me’ I'm doing my best, Sylus! I want to be good for you! I want to follow your orders! I came out to the middle of the desert, no questions asked, on a dime, because you told me to! Cut me some slack and put those gentling gloves on, because I know you can! Now, lean down so I can dry your hair!”

Kit glares at him for a moment before she realizes she's well and truly fucked. Sylus's eyes are a bright, burning red, the right one beginning to glow in a way that is as annoyingly arousing as it is terrifying. A myriad of scenarios flash through her mind, different forms of pleasurable punishment she's taken in the past. Kit braces herself for the worst.

Yet oddly, he leans down quietly, bowing his head for her.

Without a word, she sweeps the towel over the wet strands. Her hands tremble. Despite her harsh words, despite losing her temper, she is, as ever, gentle with him. As if she were handling fragile and delicate glass.

Larger hands cover her own, and she can't help but flinch.

“Are you scared of me?” Sylus’s voice is ever-so-soft, almost tentative. There's a strangely raw edge to it, as if he anticipates the worst possible answer.

Kit sighs, draping the towel over his shoulders. Instantly, Sylus draws his hands away, and she's the one to catch them, to lace their fingers together and force him to stay in place.

It reminds her oddly of his attempts to resonate, and she shakes her head. “No,” she whispers. “The ones I flinch from are ghosts, not you. Are you mad at me?”

As if he can hear her silent permission, Sylus steps forward, crowding her against the wall. His head drops to her shoulder. For a moment, all she can hear is the steady sound of his breathing.

It takes a moment, the heat of his body seeping into hers, Kit’s thin undergown the only physical barrier between them. Then, he speaks. “It’s…complicated. I'm not mad at you. You're not the only one with ghosts, Kit.”

She tucks her face into his neck, drawing their entwined hands upwards, to where her heart beats powerfully beneath her breast.

“Then let me distract you from them,” Kit whispers. “Take whatever you need from me.”

He laughs hoarsely. “That's a dangerous offer, sweetie. What if I take everything?” Sylus's hand slips from hers, going up to trace the line of her neck.

She takes it again, readjusting his grip so his fingers wrap around her throat. Sylus jerks, pulling back enough to look at her with a strangely startled expression.

“Then take it all,” Kit says fiercely. “Devour me until not even my bones remain. I'll give you everything. Just don't fight alone, or worse, fight me. Unless it's to teach some pimple-faced teen how to kill a Wanderer.”

He gazes at her, his expression unreadable. The tension in his shoulders relaxes, and as if he's come to some sort of decision, his classic smirk returns.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “But this shower isn't the place for it. It's not exactly soundproof, and you…” he leans in close, his lips brushing her ear. “You aren't exactly quiet.”

Kit can practically feel the color flood her cheeks, even as she huffs, relieved. He may not tell her what's going on in that head of his, but it's clear she's done something to help.

“It's not my fault someone can't shut me up,” she retorts.

In quick succession, Sylus wraps the towel tightly around his waist and picks her up, holding her in one arm, making her squeak in surprise. Kit holds on for dear life.

“Sylus! What if you slip?!”

He taps her nose, smiling when she automatically tries to bite him. “Trust me, kitten. I know what I'm doing.”

With that, he strides out of the bathroom, off into the rest of the house.

Later, as the sun sinks below the horizon, Kit lazily rests her head on Sylus's chest with a yawn. His hand cards absentmindedly through her hair as he watches the bustling activity below, his eyes shadowed with memories Kit cannot even begin to fathom.

However, she promised.

She taps his chest, bringing his attention to her.

“So,” she says sleepily. “You don't do anything for free. Who paid the price? The kid, or the old woman?”

Sylus chuckles wryly. “The kid. He said that when I died, I could be buried amongst their dead gods. Out there, in the Valley of Lost Souls.” He nods his head out to the amber expanse of sand, and Kit follows his gaze.

“Why does that sound like you think it's funny?” She shifts a little bit in Sylus's lap. The ache radiates sharply through her body, a sign of muscles being put to good use.

His other hand strokes down her hip soothingly. “Their gods were killed by their ancestors. Not quite the honor it seems.”

She snorts at that. “And what did he want?”

In the last remaining rays of light, the sun shines liquid gold, striking his hair and turning it into the most ethereal shade of white. Less like a dove, and more like an albino crow, ostracized and driven away from its own kind.

Sylus glances at her with eyes that resemble blood pooling on the ground after a fresh kill, and Kit wonders if that's a closer guess to Sylus's past than she's ever known.

“The Wanderer,” he replies. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, following the way the loose locks spill invitingly down her form. “In this village, they keep what killed their people before. To remind them never to let it kill them again. His father stepped into the protofield of that thing, and he wants to try and get him back.”

Kit hums softly. “Reminds me of someone,” she murmurs. “I tried to kill you and you kept me, after all. His stubbornness and ferocity is to be admired. If he lives to adulthood, he'll be a fine warrior.”

“I was never that stubborn,” Sylus replies. He ignores the way she tries not to laugh. “He's still got a long way to go.”

“He does,” she agrees. A thought strikes her. “Sylus? What were you like as a child?”

Her long, lean lover looks down at her, and his eyes are hollow. Even as he opens his mouth, Kit puts her hand over it. “Never mind. I know. Yours was hard like mine.”

He kisses the fingers softly, taking her hand and pressing it to his cheek. “No one's childhood is like yours, Kit. But I get what you're saying, and yes. I had to fight to survive, just like you.”

Kit moves up, pressing a kiss to his lips. It's lazy and slow in the dusk’s chill, unhurried as if they have all the time in the world.

As she pulls away, loose-limbed with a faint buzz of desire, she curls back up against him. “How long will we be here?”

He hums, and she can feel the off-key vibrations through his chest, as soothing as a cat’s purr.

“I have to go further into the desert. There's something I'm looking for. It's…”

She interrupts him easily, her voice teasing. “Something you need to do for yourself, I get it. No girls, crows, or twins allowed, keep out.”

A finger taps the end of her nose playfully, and she snaps at it, relaxing as he presses it into her mouth scoldingly, down onto the flat of her tongue.

Kit glances up at him, her mouth automatically opening, and he smirks at her obedience. There's no heat behind it, only fondness. “Punishment,” he says softly. “Someone's too cheeky for her own good.” Sylus pulls his finger from her mouth, tapping the end of her nose again, this time leaving a wet residue that cools quickly in the night air. “What do you want to do? Do you want me to send you home?”

“With your new vintage motorcycle?” Her teasing earns her another tap on the end of her nose, and she's tempted to bite it again.

“It's what the locals ride, only a few years older than you. Now, tell me what you want.”

Kit opens her mouth, feeling a flood of words all crowd the space, a traffic jam of wants and needs all vying for her attention.

She wants to follow him. But she isn't allowed.

“I want…” she gazes up at him, taking his punishing hand and lacing his fingers with hers. “I want you to leave me with marks that will last the time that you're gone. And then in two weeks, I'll be waiting for you here. Someone's got to train that kid not to stab himself.”

“You're going to wait for me?” He asks softly.

Kit nods. “Of course. Someone's gotta make sure you come back out of that desert. And…” she glances away, feeling her face warm. “...I don't want you to be alone for too long.”

The world spins around her, and suddenly she finds herself pinned beneath him. He doesn't give her a chance to look at his expression before his mouth is on hers, again and again until she's out of breath.

“Sylus-” she gasps, barely getting his name out before he swallows her words again, not stopping until she's practically melted in his arms.

“How is it that someone as sweet as you found their way into my world?” He asks roughly. “How did you make it this long?”

She laughs brightly. “Because I had people like you to make sure I didn't get it completely stolen away.” Kit reaches up, looping her arms around his neck. “Kiss me again?” She asks shyly.

He smirks. “Of course. After all, someone asked for me to leave marks that will last two weeks. I have a promise to fulfill.”

Sylus's hand slides down, and lets her sounds of pleasure fill the night air.

[nbrory]

what I imagined for mbav after season 2:

Just before the Lucifractor explodes, Benny has a sudden rush of magic power from the Lucifractor's aura, which is why he was so attracted to it in the final scene. While they're running away (Jesse and Sarah are so weakened they can't use superspeed), Benny can see the terror in Ethan's eyes and just knows something bad will happen, and that they won't escape it fast enough. So he tells everyone to stop and uses the boost of magic to transport the group to a place far away, safe from the town.

Only he doesn't know what that place is and they find themselves in his biological mom's house, the mom that left him as a baby to his grandma because her magic was getting darker and Whitechapel was only making it grow (added dramatic effect if her dark magic accidentally killed Benny's dad, and she became so heartbroken she ran away from her son in fear of hurting him the same way). Now, she spends her days in an isolated cottage that's charmed to be invisible to the world, tending to a small garden that produces herbs to tamper her dark energy. This very garden is where the group transport to, and at first Benny's mom is scared to see supernatural intruders but soon realizes Benny is her grown-up son from the heightened aura of magic he still radiates.

So the group spends some time at the cottage recuperating while Benny finally discovers the full extent of his past. Along the way, Ethan gets to exercise his new seer powers and manages to get into Rory's mind, still under the influence of Anastasia. He discovers where the rest of the vampires are and Benny transports the group there, while Benny's mother reunites with his grandma.

Cue the og group (plus Jesse from time to time) navigating the world with stronger powers, breaking away from the Vampire Council's authority and trying to rebuild Whitechapel from the explosion's aftermath. Stern is still there but intensely weakened, and they banish him to the world that Benny's grandma created for her grandson in Independence Daze, forced to become a vice principal trapped in the school with a magic-immune robot dentist forever.

The town still doesn't bat an eye to their actions but the principal gives Erica and Sarah diplomas anyway (Erica definitely made Anastasia teach her the art of a vampire trance). The pair then starts to live the life they've always wanted: working together at different odd jobs around the town, going on dates in vampire restaurants, and enrolling thenselves into a dance competition for Experienced Dancers so they can finally show off the routine they practiced a year ago. Sarah still gets a little sad when she thinks about being a vampire for eternity, but Erica being there makes it easier to bear. Speaking of Erica, she stops hiding her affection for Sarah and doesn't even bat an eye whenever a guy walks past anymore. The more time goes by where high school boys and mean girls don't affect her, the more Erica loses the carefully crafted facade she put up after getting turned. Not to be mistaken, she still hisses at everybody except Sarah.

Benny, Ethan, and Rory choose to keep going to school, eager to experience the life of Upperclassmen when they really just want to be invited to senior parties. Ethan's visions happen much more frequently but his control over them strengthens, soon being able to sense the emotions of others. Benny is instantly terrified, because what if Ethan can tell that he likes him? Benny's magic gets exponentially stronger, to the point where he's scared it'll mutate and become dark. Luckily, when he does go into Evil Benny mode, the most evil thing he does is throw fireballs at the guy who calls him and Ethan Benny Rabbit and Teethan in the halls. Rory realizes that they're non-binary, and become much more confident in themselves. This newfound courage makes them dress cooler, talk cooler, and most importantly, transition from being the dork of the school to the coolest person there. They're still energetic and cheerful 24/7, but not so oblivious anymore. Everyday someone new asks them for their number while Benny and Ethan look on with jealousy. Jealous of Rory's charm with the students or of the students in getting their attention, they can't really tell.

There are still new creatures to face every week, but now the whole group fights them equally. Ethan and Benny don't need to call Sarah for help anymore, Rory actually makes some of the plans, and Erica starts to embrace the fact that she's stuck with these dorks for life. The problems they fight give the Avengers a run for their money, but in the end, they're still teenagers trying to do their best with the weird lives they've been dealt.

[hinatastinygiant]

13 | Sea Gold

Pairing: Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Pirate's Treasure Masterlist

"Hey there, cap," he says, his voice raspy and deep. "It's been a while."

"What the fuck?" I hiss. "The hell are you doing here?!"

Whatever was dragging Y/N suddenly stops. But I can hear her cry out in pain as someone else's foot lands roughly on her back. Glancing upwards I see a man with long red hair tied in a ponytail and a scruffy face, staring back at me.

"Well, well, look what the sea spit out," the man smirks. "It's a pleasure, captain,"

"Kirishima," I snarl. "Sero. Why the hell are you here?"

"Only celebrating," Kirishima grins. "You've finally graced us with your presence."

"Let go of the girl. She's got nothing to do with this," I growl, my voice low.

"Oh, but I'm pretty sure she does. You came down here to look for her, after all."

"That has nothing to do with you. She's none of your concern," I hiss, my eyes locked with his.

"She's ours now," Sero says, a sinister grin spreading across his face.

"Yeah, but if you want her so bad, come and get her," Kirishima adds, pressing his foot down harder on Y/N's back. "It's so odd hearing the sound of someone in pain. After all these years, this is the first time we're hearing it again."

"Sounds sweet," Sero hums as he bends down to get a better look at her face. "But what are we gonna do with her? Can't imagine her living on this island, too."

Kirishima sighs. "Guess we'll just have to put her out of her misery."

"Over my dead body," I snarl.

"That can be arranged," Sero grins.

"Not a chance. Let the girl go, or I'll kill you both."

"We'd love to see you try," Kirishima laughs.

I lunge forward and grab Kirishima by the collar of his shirt.

"You're making a mistake," I tell him as I force him up against the wall. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Don't be an idiot, Bakugou," he scoffs. "You ditched the rest of us survivors to live in this hell hole."

"Don't talk to me about hell," I grumble, pushing him harder into the wall. "I've been living on this damn island alone for fucking years. How the hell are you here, anyway?"

"The island brought us," Kirishima replies. "Those of us who swam to shore, that is. And I can promise you that there's no escape from this stupid fucking curse, either."

"You're full of shit."

"Am I? This doesn't even hurt," he smirks.

"Fine. Tell me what you want," I growl, my grip on Kirishima's collar tightening.

Kirishima's expression shifts, a glint of cunning flickering in his eyes. "We want what you want, captain. The treasure."

A surge of frustration and anger courses through me, realizing that they are still after the very thing I've been tirelessly seeking. "You know I won't let you have it. It's mine by right."

"Is it really?" Sero interjects, a sneer playing at the corners of his lips as he pulls Y/N to her feet. "Seems like a lot of trouble for just some shiny trinkets and gold."

"It's more than that," I reply, my voice echoing with determination. "It's my redemption, my ticket out of this cursed place."

"Then it's settled," Kirishima declares, a malicious glimmer in his eyes. "You lead us to the treasure, and maybe we'll consider letting the girl live."

Anger growing within me, I shove Kirishima away from me, returning my focus back on Y/N. She must've been able to catch a breath or two, because her face has regained some color. Her eyes meet mine, a mixture of confusion and fear in them. Then, suddenly, she steps on Sero's foot and punches him in the gut, freeing herself from his grip.

"Get away from her!" I roar, lunging at Sero, and delivering a heavy blow to his jaw.

He reels backwards, but manages to stay upright. I then grab onto Y/N's arm and toss her out of the room.

Kirishima and Sero exchange a look, their expressions morphing into ones of irritation as they realize I'm blocking their only exit. "You can't keep us here forever, Bakugou," Kirishima growls, his fists clenching in frustration.

"I can, and I will," I declare, my own fingers twitching at the thought of ending these two for good.

"Why are you being so stubborn?!" Sero groans, his teeth gritted.

But I decide not to give them an answer until I shut the metal door and lock them inside the room with no way out. They can bang on the door all they want. The room is too sturdy for them to break through. "Fucking bastards," I hiss as I make my way towards the surface of the ship, leaving Kirishima and Sero trapped below.

Y/N follows after me like a lost puppy, her footsteps loud and heavy against the floors as if she is having a hard time walking. "What was that?" She asks me, her eyes filled with tears and her face covered in dirt and blood.

"I told you, the treasure," I reply, not wanting to look at her.

"So those guys were part of your crew?"

"Yeah," I nod.

"Did they get cursed too?"

"I don't know. And I don't care."

"Well, what do we do now? They obviously haven't found the treasure after all these years so how are we going to find it?"

I don't answer and instead, just let out a huff as I find a spot to sit down. I then close my eyes and sigh.

"Are you just going to ignore me now?" She coughs as if trying to catch her breath.

"Do you think I haven't been trying to find the treasure for years, Y/N? Who the fuck knows where it is? Your map probably just led us to this fucking ship and that's it," I grumble.

Y/N doesn't respond. When I look over, she seems to be having a hard time breathing.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

"No," she croaks, shaking her head.

"Shit, your feet," I curse, noticing the black on her soles.

"It's not just my feet," she chokes. "My whole body feels cold. And I think my lungs are full of water."

"How long were you under?"

"I'm not sure," she wheezes.

"Come on, you need to rest," I tell her, trying to pull her toward my old room on the ship.

"I can't," she pants. "I have to keep looking for the treasure."

"You're not going anywhere until your feet are better," I order, not giving her a choice. I then scoop her up and carry her back to my quarters.

"Where are you taking me?" she asks, her voice trembling.

"To bed."

Pirate's Treasure Masterlist

Taglist: @nemisimp @boopjuice @stevenknightmarc

[greyfrey3]

domesticity, pro heroes, bk & dk trying to remain anon and it does not go well, fluff 

There’s an unusual buzz in the grocery store tonight. 

Typically, any kind of energy this late is unheard of. Most people just slog through their daily chore, too exhausted by the odd hour to notice much other than the food items in front of them. Katsuki is one of those people, drowsy and fatigued. But he’s also a pro hero, highly attuned to subtle shifts in the environment around him. It’s why he can anticipate villain attacks sometimes without even looking. It’s why, right now, he’s dragged out of his half-awake stupor, suddenly perking up.

Something is amiss. It’s like a hum of energy in the air—he can sense it but can’t nail down its source. It takes him a few minutes more than normal to place it. That fact alone puts him on edge. But when he realizes what’s happening, he switches to downright irritated.

“Honey, honey! You’ll never believe this!” A woman passes by him, whispering urgently to her boyfriend. “Hero Deku is shopping in the next aisle!”

“What? Really?? How do you know?”

“Yeah, how do you know?!” Katsuki demands, wheeling on them. His tone is far more annoyed than the other man’s, but not enough to scare the couple off.

“I saw his face!” she squeals, excitement making her eyes shine.

Katsuki slams the bag of rice noodles down into his basket, too loud for a sleepy grocery store. An aisle over, he hears a familiar voice squeak.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah!” she gushes. “He’s got those freckles and dimples and everything!”

Katsuki snaps, “What a dumbass!” and slams another bag on top of the first.

The couple blinks at him before slowly turning towards each other, choosing to ignore him simultaneously. They continue their hushed, lively exchange without Katsuki. But that’s fine by him, he’s got an idiot to strangle.

When he rounds the corner of the next aisle, his husband practically runs into him.

Crimson eyes glare at him, suspicious. “You were seen.”

Izuku goes to scratch his cheek but is blocked by his mask. He drops his hand to his side, clearing his throat nervously. “I was? That’s so strange, Kacchan!”

“I told you to keep a low profile.”

“I am!” The Number One hero insists. “Look! My disguise is still in place.”

He adjusts his ballcap, pulling it lower over his bright eyes. It partially covers his vibrant green hair too. Overall, it doesn’t do much to hide that unique color… except now that Izuku has cemented his place in the Top Ten, many people have dyed their own hair to imitate him. Everywhere Katsuki turns these days, he sees green. That alone shouldn’t be enough to give him away.

Katsuki narrows his eyes, noting the sweat beading on Izuku’s brow. They got off shift a while ago, and it’s not that hot out. He’s also shifting his gaze away from him, refusing to meet his eyes. If he was wearing a sign right now, it would flash ‘GUILTY.’

But, of what?

“Izuku—“ As he starts to interrogate him, the couple from before pops around the opposite corner, watching them curiously. He doesn’t want to attract their attention, so he waves Izuku away. “—go get the fish. I’ll meet you there.”

He waits until Izuku is around the corner before addressing the couple. “Not him,” he declares, watching their faces fall before he goes back to his own shopping.

Katsuki thought that would be the end of it. But then, a few minutes later, he hears another remark. This time it’s a worker, muttering under their breath. When he checks on Izuku, his husband shrugs sheepishly, but admits nothing.

When Katsuki’s picking out vegetables, he overhears an older lady chattering excitedly into her phone about Hero Deku. But the other hero just shakes his head in confusion when Katsuki corners him in the dairy section.

“They’re recognizing you somehow!” Katsuki hisses. He’s not opposed to fan interactions, but the hour is late and they’re both bone weary with exhaustion. All he wants to do right now is go home, slap together some stir-fry and call it a day.

…And his silly husband better not screw up their plans.

“I’m being careful!” Izuku squeaks. They’re close enough that Katsuki doesn’t miss the extra open and close of his jaw. Like he’s chewing something.

“What are you eating?”

“N-nothing!” Izuku turns bright red, backing up quickly. “I’m gonna go grab the frozen peas!”

He manages to stumble over a box of packaged chips, sending a few scattering down the aisle.

“Can you get those, Kacchan?!” he yelps, directing his request over his shoulder as he practically sprints away from Katsuki.

…this guy. Katsuki pinches his brow, managing to tamp down his knee jerk reaction to throw the nearest hard object at him. He could knock him down and interrogate him, forcing out whatever he’s trying to hide. But that will definitely draw unwanted attention. Besides, he can always just follow the dweeb.

He takes his time cleaning up and meandering to where Izuku is supposed to be, giving his idiot husband plenty of time to assume that he’s safe. Along the way, he eavesdrops on two more customers, both raving about spotting the green-haired hero.

He does so himself minutes later when he’s tailing him through the frozen food section.

“Sir, would you like a sample?” A blue-aproned worker asks him. She’s standing at the end of the aisle, behind her tray of warmed up pastries.

Katsuki watches in shock—a feeling that quickly morphs into outrage—as Izuku glances around, making sure the coast is clear. Then he lowers his mask and grins. “Sure!”

That idiot!!! is all Katsuki can think as he stomps angrily towards him. He’s absolutely going to throttle him!

“Ah! Kacchan!” Izuku yelps when he spots him. And then in a move that makes Katsuki’s eyes nearly bug out of his head, he stuffs whatever he’s holding into his mouth in one bite.

Katsuki is on him in an instant, practically wrestling him in the middle of the store. “What are you eating?!”

“No’ fing!”

He has to squeeze Izuku’s jaw to force his mouth open, much like he does to their puppy waiting for them at home. When he does, he instantly recognizes the sight and smell of crispy puff pastry and seared meat.

“You’re eating a CORN DOG?!”

Izuku swallows quickly as Katsuki releases him from the headlock. Their fight is far from over as he straightens up, fixing watery green eyes on him. It’s a below the belt hit—Katsuki is weak to that expression, and Izuku knows it.

“Kacchan!” he whines. “It was just one corn dog. A sample. How could I say no?”

“It’s horrible for you!” Katsuki counters. “Loaded with preservatives and carbs that you don’t need!”

Izuku’s plump bottom lip quivers. What a cheap ploy. “You never let me eat any of my favorite stuff.”

Katsuki’s heart feels like it’s been stabbed when Izuku looks at him like that. It rivals something Smol Might (their mixed breed puppy) might pull after he makes a mess on the carpet.

“That’s because it’s all bad for you,” Katsuki counters. But he’s not telling the entire truth.

The real reason is because he didn’t make it for Izuku—someone else did. The kitchen is Katsuki’s kingdom, and he wears his crown with pride. He shops, preps, cooks and plates every scrap of food that goes into Izuku’s mouth. He relishes in it, enjoying every moment. And not just because he loves to cook.

It’s because he loves Izuku unconditionally, and because he wants to take care of him for the rest of their lives.

Lives that’ll go without corn dogs, thank you very much.

“Pretty please, Kacchan?” Izuku begs. Katsuki grabs his husband’s mask where it’s dangling under his chin.

“No,” Katsuki tells him, much softer than before. The dumbass really can toy with his heartstrings when he tries.

Katsuki presses their lips together in an apologetic kiss. When he backs away, he tugs Izuku’s mask sharply, elastic band snapping it back into place.

“Aww…”

“Go grab some beef. We have what we need at home. I’ll make my own version,” Katsuki orders succinctly, compromising. If Izuku wants to eat junk, he can eat Katsuki’s healthier version of it.

“Yay!” Practically skipping away, Izuku drops the sad act, happiness restored.

When Katsuki passes by the sample lady as he follows the love of his life, she asks him, “Was that…? And you’re…?”

In exchange for her silence, he autographs the box of corn dogs. The things he does for Izuku…



/end reposting some old drabbles

[purgetrooperfox]

oooh 23 for bastra and jaro?

softer world prompts

we talk in the dark as we fall asleep, and we are objects in the night sky outside of time. (it is the exact opposite of alone)

“I’ll admit,” Jaro says in lieu of any sensible greeting, heedless of the way Bastra startles. “I can’t fathom what you’re doing here.”

The city lights of Daiyu glare vibrant neon that reflects off the pooling water on the street. It doesn’t fully mask the grime that coats every conceivable surface, but it does well to draw the eye away.

“I’m doing the same as everyone else on this planet, looking for something.”

Bastra pays no mind to the gentle fall of rain – it won’t soak through his clothes any time soon, and he can’t be bothered to move from his perch on the roof of a dilapidated inn. With one leg tucked close to his chest and the other dangling over the edge, he has a comfortable vantage point over the bustle that never ends, no matter the hour.

He hears Jaro huff a sigh and sees him, out the corner of his eye, sit cross-legged at his side. Almost close enough for their thighs to touch. Into the space between them, he asks, “What are you looking for? Something, or someone?”

Scowling, Bastra tears his gaze away from the street to look up at Jaro’s face, which is angled further up toward the clouds. “I can multitask, can't I?"

"Of course," Jaro grants, "I only hope you've thought this through."

That makes two of them, for whatever it's worth.

"More or less. I need credits to travel, so I need a job. There's not much else to it."

He watches Jaro's ears twitch back, the surest sign of his disapproval. For a man with a face like a locked vault, his ears always cracked the combination. Saved Bastra from putting his foot in his mouth more than once.

"I wonder if you're chasing these goals you claim are so straightforward, or if you're still running away."

"Fuck off."

"I will not."

"I'm not running away," Bastra hisses, then deliberately unclenches his jaw. "There's nothing left to run from except death, and I'm not currently interested in letting that catch up with me."

Imperial efforts to hunt down the few Jedi who escaped the Purge ebb and flow, but have generally waned over the years. He can travel relatively freely, as long as he keeps his head down and doesn't draw attention. Odd jobs keep him going. It's aimless, at times, but it's something.

Jaro bristles, scratching idly at his beard. An old habit that never died. "It seems to have caught up with you, all the same."

Bastra snorts, even though it's not funny. "Sure, your death follows me relentlessly. My own will have to work harder to catch up."

He's still only halfway convinced that he hasn't lost his mind, and these visits from Jaro aren't just complex hallucinations. At best, the Force truly does work in mysterious ways. At worst, well. He gets a very convincing construct to talk to.

The first time it happened – whatever it is – he shut down, couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't breathe. The second wasn't much better. Jaro stopped trying to explain and simply shared his space after a few more, and something eventually clicked in the back of Bastra's mind. Whether it clicked into or out of place is up for debate.

With fear and shock and confusion worn away, the hardest part is how real it feels– how real he feels. The illusion is incredible, but not perfect.

Jaro's eyes don't reflect the glaring neon lights of Daiyu when he meets Bastra's gaze. His clothes and hair and fur are unmoved by the wind. Every detail of his features, all the way down to signs of age, is exactly as Bastra remembers from before. He's a snapshot, displaced from his time and stubbornly refusing to rest.

"You shouldn't taunt fate, Bastra," he chastises, but there's fondness in his tone. Relief, maybe. "She comes for us all, in the end."

They're close enough that their thighs could touch, but an insurmountable cavern apart. Fate will come for him in the end, but maybe his family will be there too. "How long do you have?"

Before they lose this strand of connection.

Jaro's shoulders drop, almost imperceptibly. "Not long enough."

"Hm." He can't tangle their hands together, but his fingers itch with sense memory, and he would, if he could. "Thank you. For being here at all."

There are nights when thinks it won't be the price on his head, or hunger, or exposure, or a stray blaster bolt, or a speeder crash, or anything else that kills him. When he thinks it might be the loneliness that does it.

This, at least, is the exact opposite of alone.

Maybe, possibly, he'll actually pick up Cal's trail, and that won't be alone either.

[midnightchronicles87]

The Gem and the Cat

It was just supposed to be a regular job. Go in, acquire the drive, and take it to his employer. An average day for Geocache. This day is anything but average.

It’s dark when he arrives at a back door of the large estate that he was told was the pickup spot. He was to meet with another bot for the hand off, a lady named Shaderaider. He thinks the name is interesting. I hope I’m not late, that would be so embarrassing. He thinks as he fidgets with his hands, waiting for something to happen.

A moment later, a small dark blue motorcycle alt drops from the second floor balcony. She stares at Geocache with piercing blue rings for optics for several seconds, eyeing him over.

“Are you the transport they hired?” She prompts, quick and to the point.

Geo smiled. “That’s me. I’m Geocache, and I suppose you must be Shaderaider.” He held out his hand for a handshake, but it was smacked away.

“We don’t have time for such pleasantries. We have a job to do, and it must be done fast. So shut up and let’s get going.” Shaderaider replies dismissively, voice cold and calculating, her cat-like ears twitching as she looks into the distance, arms crossed. A second later she grabs his hand, putting the disc into it. “Protect this with your life, Geocache.” She snarled, that last word having a sharp bite in the enunciation.

“There’s no need to be so harsh, I know how to do my job.” The orange and yellow plane chuckled, walking forward after stashing his cargo. Shaderaider transforms and speeds off, causing Geocache to also transform and follow suit, though slower.

Several silent minutes pass, and it’s only when they’re out of the neighborhood that they stop and Shade transforms. Geo does the same.

“Why have we stopped? Did something happen?” He asks, looking down at his traveling companion with a tilted head, and head fins at two different angles, with a confused expression.

The only response is an impatient huff and narrow eyed stare before she speaks. “Why are you so slow? We need to get this damn disc out of Iacon before the rich glitch finds out it’s missing. You should know the importance of efficiency in these sorts of matters.” she hisses.

“I’ll have you know that my speed is the perfect speed for carrying delicate cargo. I’ve been doing this for millenia, “ his eyebrows shoot up and he takes a half step back, ''and WAIT, did you STEAL?!” he shouts in surprise. Shaderaider facepalms, dragging her clawed hand down her face with an eye roll.

“Keep your voice down. Yes I stole it. That’s what we’re here to do, you should already know that. I mean, you’re posing as a transport.” she states, matter of factly. Geocache tenses up, his plating tight against his frame.

“No one told me I would be smuggling something! I was just told to take this disc from that place to the edge of town. No one told me I would be doing anything illegal!” He yelps, shaking from head to foot. Oh no, oh no, oh Primus why. I’m going to get in SO much trouble, he thinks, his mind racing. “Am I a CRIMINAL?” He cries.

His companion shakes her head in disbelief, before sighing angrily, “Yes, yes you are, now let’s go. And you will tell no one about any of this.” Geo feels an odd sensation in his tank at that last sentence, but he ignores it. He takes a deep breath, which does nothing to calm his nerves, and nods, still shaken. Shaderaider rolls her optics again before turning on her heel, transforming, and starting off down a side street. Geocache nervously follows behind her, fidgeting the entire way.

“Hey, Shaderaider, would you please wait up?” He calls a moment later. She turns to the side to come to a stop.

“What is it now?” She impatiently replies.

“Can we walk at least part of the way? I don’t think I could fly like this. The alleys are pretty narrow after all, not good for wings, and I somehow doubt you want me out of your sight.” the plane sheepishly pleads, his hands drawn close to his chest, index fingers tapping together. The motorcycle transforms and stares at him with a blank expression. She mulls it over for a moment, and after a look of dismay and silently questioning what led her to be stuck with this fool, deeply sighs.

“Alright, I suppose we could walk, but it better be quiet, and if anyone asks, you’re carrying average cargo, and I’m merely keeping you company. Got it?” She answers with a slight snarl and a cold glare. Geocache relaxes a little at this, and puts on a weary smile.

“Crystal clear. Thank you ma’am, and I promise not to bug you with small talk, much.” He chuckles slightly, before walking forward through the alley. The spy follows his lead, needing to speed walk to keep up with the transport she’s stuck with.

An hour goes by of Geo being told where to turn and when to duck out of sight of the main street, and many groans of frustration from Shade when he flinches at every little noise. They’re about to turn into another alley when Shaderaider halts in her tracks and puts a hand up to stop her companion.

She turns to him and sighs, “We can’t take this street, they’re doing construction and would ask us what we were doing coming through from the alley side. Too suspicious. We need to take the main street, it’s the only other way through this area. An unfortunate detour but a necessary one.”

Geocache blinks. “Ok, lead the way. I don’t do much ground travel around here, y’know, plane and all, so this has been quite informative.” I can act normal. I do it all the time. He thinks, taking a breath. I got this. I’m just carrying my usual cargo and not doing anything suspicious, just gotta keep telling myself that. They step out onto the main street and keep walking. He is temporarily dazzled by all the lights illuminating the way, it never fails to amaze him. Shaderaider just keeps her head down and strides ahead, weaving around other bots as needed.

Geo breaks out of his trance and notices he was left behind, mutters incoherently for a second, and dashes to find his companion, going “Excuse me, pardon me, sorry about that.” as he shuffles around bots, who glance annoyedly at him before moving. It takes a moment, but he catches up to the spy and taps her on the shoulder.

“Hey, aren’t we supposed to stick together? I’m sorry for stopping unnecessarily, but you didn’t have to run off like that.” He says, a tad exasperated. Shade turns around and curtly replies,

“Oh, sorry. I’m used to being by myself and weaving through crowds as fast as possible. I didn’t even notice you’d stopped.”

“Heh, it’s ok. Though I’m kinda surprised you’d forget I’m here, given my height and importance to this job after all.” He lightly teases, arising the slightest blush out of her. It quickly goes away and they continue on their journey. The duo go a few blocks before turning into the alleys again. This time Shaderaider is scanning the walls as they go down the alley. Geo looks at this with confusion.

“What are you doing, if I might ask?” He inquires, innocently.

“I’m looking for a way onto the rooftops. This is taking way too long for my and most likely our employer’s liking, and you said you can’t really fly in these alleys. So if we go to the rooftops, you can fly and I go much faster. Win win.” She states, not taking her optics from her scanning.

A moment later she spots a service ladder a few feet away and darts over to it. She climbs the ladder with great speed, and beckons Geocache to follow her once she reaches the halfway point. He does as instructed with slight hesitation, as the pit in his tank grows from the shady activity. I don’t like this, I don’t like this, what if we get caught? This is bad. His thoughts race as he climbs the ladder behind Shade, trembling slightly. His trembles shake the ladder a little and make it rattle under both their weights and his nerves.

“Can you quit shaking?! You’ll give us away!” Shaderaider hisses just loud enough for him to hear from the near top of the ladder. Geo stops and takes several deep breaths, calming him a little to stop his quivering, though it does nothing to slow his racing spark.

“Ok, sorry about that. I’m just freaking out because I’m part of a heist and no one told me.” He reminds her as he finishes clambering up the ladder, dusting himself off at the top. “That ladder had quite the dust layer. Must not be well maintained.” He muttered under his breath. Once he arrives on the roof, Shaderaider looks him over, before nodding with a “Hm.”

After a second of silence, she motions for the two of them to get a move on, and starts off in the direction they were originally heading. Geocache ruffles his plating before transforming with a little flourish and taking off. He makes sure to keep his companion in his sight, but takes no time in getting up to speed, simultaneously relaxing more at the sensation of flying above it all. As he gets back to his usual method of doing his job, it almost slips his mind that he’s doing anything wrong.

Geo periodically looks down to make sure he’s still following the motorcycle, which he is, until she stops short and ducks behind a structure on one rooftop. He sees this and swoops down to inspect the situation, transforming and landing with a soft thud before immediately being pulled behind the structure with Shaderaider, a squeak escaping him at both the sudden movement and sudden contact.

“Shaderaider? What’s wro-”

“Quiet!” She whisper shouts, covering his mouth with her hand, her optics narrowed as she gazes around the corner, “Someone heard me up here, now we must wait until they leave. Try not to give us away big guy.” Geo has a moment of that same feeling in his tank from earlier in the evening, but it is quickly replaced by a shiver as he remembers the circumstances. He can’t help but tremble as he tries to stay still and quiet as he crouches behind the obstruction. Shade removes her hand and returns it to her side.

Peeking over the top, he spots a resident of the building glancing around. They seem to be a sports car of some sort, but it’s hard to tell in the low light of the dark city canopy. Geo can barely make out a grimace as he ducks back down when the bot’s head turns in his direction. His sparkbeat quickens as the duo wait a tense few minutes before they hear footsteps echoing down stairs, the bot deciding it was nothing and going back inside. Shaderaider waits a few moments before signaling Geocache that he can move. He sighs in relief and goes to stand, but bangs his head on a pole, knocking it and other objects off the structure with a loud clatter. Immediately the pair hear footsteps swiftly coming back up the stairs.

“Oh slag.” He groans, his head fins pinned back as he prepares for a confrontation. I hope I can talk my way out of this, I’d really hate for there to be a fight. He takes a few deep breaths in an effort to calm himself for conversation as Shaderaider face palms. The same bot throws the door open and looks at them with an accusatory glare.

“What are you two doing here?” They bark with a scowl and crossed arms, tapping their foot.

“I-I’m so sorry to bother you sir, I’m just transporting cargo across town, expedited delivery, and I got drowsy so I flew too low and crashed into this.” He gestures at the mess on the floor, then looks at Shaderaider. “My friend here was supposed to talk to me to keep me awake, but she forgot. Again, I’m so sorry for disturbing you, I’ll just clean up the mess and we’ll be on our way.” He shakily explains with a clearly forced smile, as he nervously chuckles, waving his hands in front of him. The bot looks unimpressed, and turns to peer at Shade, who puts on a similar facade to Geo, nodding to confirm his story.

The bot looks suspiciously between the two, but after a moment shrugs and replies, “Okaaaay, but make it quick and get out of here before I change my mind about reporting you.” before turning on their heels and leaving. A moment of silence passes as the footsteps again fade out.

“Haaaaah,” Geo gasps, letting out a breath he’d been unknowingly holding, before quickly cleaning up the mess he’d made, still shaking. After he’s finished they move on to the next roof, where Shade then jumps and smacks him on the back of the head.

“What the PIT Geocache?! I told you to be quiet!” She scolds him with a growl. “Why can’t you follow simple instructions?!”

“I’m sorry! I tried, I just didn’t see those things there, and I talked our way out of it! Ack, I’m usually not this clumsy, it’s just this job is messing with my head.” He yelps as he rubs the back of his head, and then face palms. “I know I must be such a bother to you, but I assure you I’m not normally like this.” Geo sighs, dejected. Shaderaider looks at her companion as he fidgets with an annoyed stare, before a thoughtful look replaces it. After a moment, her face temporarily softens for just a second, before she rolls her eyes. She’d better get paid extra for putting up with these shenanigans.

“Fine, I accept your apology, but this can’t keep happening. Fortunately for the both of us, we’re only a couple blocks from our destination. If we can get that far without any more incidents, I won’t tell our employers of your incompetence. Deal?” She extends her hand. Geocache’s optics light up like tiny suns and he smiles as he shakes her hand.

“Deal!” He exclaims. Upon their deal, the pair transform and take off, the only sound being the noises of the street below, and their engines.

It’s just before sunrise when they arrive at the city limits. A figure is there to greet them with a pair of guards at their back.

“Ah, I see you arrived safely. Do you have the goods?” They prompt. Shaderaider and Geocache transform and step forward. Shade turns and gives Geo a look of ‘I got this.’ He simply nods and looks on.

Turning back she says, “Yes, we have the merchandise, as requested.” She lightly elbows Geo, who produces his cargo and gives it to his employer, saying nothing.

“Yes, good. You will receive your payment shortly. Good job, this usually takes our agents multiple solar cycles, but you two got it done in one night. I’m impressed.” They purr.

“T-Thank you.” Geocache mutters. Primus I’m being so unprofessional. This is the worst. He chastises himself. Just gotta get through this interaction, then I can go home and never think about this again.

He looks at Shade, who, for the first time that night, smiles as she fires back, “I do pride myself on my efficiency, it is my job after all.” Geo feels oddly warm at the sight of that smile.

“Of course, of course. You may go, Geocache, you were never here.” The bot says, lowering their voice for that last part.

“Of course. Goodbye Shaderaider.” He says before swiftly transforming and flying away, contemplating the night’s events.

[curseofaphrodite]

a little bit of mystery

STEVEN GRANT X FEM!READER | fluff

summary: steven didn't want to get suspicious about his new roommate, yet with all the odd clues — it's almost as if you were a superhero. | reader hates spider, takes place in ep 2

Steven didn’t want a roommate. He also knew he couldn't keep up with the apartment maintenance with no money, so he begrudgingly put an ad in the newspaper for someone to sublet the place. (Was it his fault that he was fired? It's not as if he asked the jackal to attack him.)

He thought finding a roommate would be a long process; but you came around the very next day, with real documents and a clean record. Most importantly, you seemed to like his apartment and had no objections to his long stacks of books laying messily about the place.

“I don’t trust her,” Marc said as soon as you walked inside. Steven ignored him, which he quickly came to regret.

-

The first night was the most surprising. He tossed and turned in the bed, then got up to walk around the building. On passing the hallway, he frowned.

The door to your room was open. Didn’t he distinctly remember you closing it after waving him goodbye? He could have dismissed his suspicions with a reason as simple as you wanting to use the bathroom, but that didn't make sense. He would have heard you walking out of your room.

With a steady breath, he knocked on the partly opened door, adjusting his eyes in the darkness. No answer of any kind came back. He took that as a cue to switch on the lights.

The bed was empty. The window was open.

“Told you,” Marc said from the nearest mirror.

-

“Did you sleep well?” you asked the next morning, taking a sip of the orange juice.

“Yes, uhm kind of,” he said, not meeting your eyes. “What about you?”

“Slept like the dead,” you smiled. “I need to get my bag and be off. Have yourself a good day please. Put off your worries about a new job and do something relaxing instead!”

“I don’t remember telling you…” that I was fired.

He bit back the words, watching you wander back into your room. As soon as he was sure you were occupied, he reached for the bag you had left on the counter.

“Right, like that’s going to help,” Marc’s voice said sharply.

“Shut up,” Steven muttered, clawing his way into the possessions. He knew it was rude, invasive and terribly unlike himself, but he couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop.

He had a right to know if his new (unbelievably gorgeous) roommate was an assassin, right?

“You haven’t even asked what she does for a living,” Marc added.

“Yeah, yeah I messed up. It’s not like I can ask her to pack up and leave!”

“It is your apartment.”

“But…it’s rude.”

Marc masked his laugh with a scoff. Steven grimaced and continued looking. So far he came across some money, two lipsticks, a chocolate bar, bandages, another chocolate bar, and finally, a notebook with a clearly recognizable Stark Enterprise watermark. He blinked.

Is she…is she an avenger?

“STEVEN!!”

He nearly dropped the bag. He had forgotten how quiet you were. Just as he looked up expecting to see your angry eyes, he was met with…no one?

“Y/N?” he called uncertainly, realizing you were still in your room.

“Come here quick,” your voice hissed back.

Forgetting his current mission, he carefully followed the dim lights. He expected a jumpscare, possibly by you, but he was met with your silhouette pressed up against the wall, and upon adjusting his vision, he realized that your eyes were wide with shock. Fear.

“What’s going on?” he asked slowly, stepping inside.

“You’re right near it!” you shrieked, your words shrill. He jumped slightly, expecting something like the jackal from the museum.

Instead, he squinted his eyes. “Is that… a spider?”

“A fucking big spider!” you said defensively, getting more worked up. “Get it out of here!”

“You’re,” he coughed. “you’re scared of spiders?”

“Steven, I’m not scared of a creature who’s smaller than my hand. I just happen to prefer them being a mile away from me.”

“Right,” he laughed, not because of the situation, but thinking of what could have happened if you had indeed seen him going through your things.

He gently tapped the floor and the spider went scurrying away. He was sure it was hiding behind the bookshelves, but for the sake of your relief, he pretended as if he chased it out the window. He could always hunt it down after you were off to your job.

"Is it gone?"

"Yes," he lied, smiling. With a sudden impulse, he added, “What do you do for a living by the way? I don’t think I’ve asked that before.”

“Oh! I work for Connors’ Company. I’m the assistant director.”

“Connors’ as in the same company funded by Tony Stark?”

You nodded.

Well at least the Stark notebooks make sense now.

He shook his head apologetically. “And here I am thinking you were an aven—"

Sudden knocks interrupted his words. You groaned, as if you knew and despised who was at the door already.

“Tell him I'll be right there. I still have to find the book,” you said, shaking your head and moving swiftly towards the shelves. Steven glanced at his left again, only to find the spider had disappeared. Deciding not to scare you, he left the room.

When he reached the door, the knocks seemed to have gotten more and more urgent. He pulled it open without even looking through the peephole.

His eyes widened in shock at the two visitors.

"This where she said she lives?" Tony asked Natasha. She nodded firmly.

"Y/N L/N?" she asked Steven uncertainly.

"She's uh, inside. Said," he gulped. "Said she'll be right here."

"Oh come on," Natasha groaned, stepping in even without Steven's approval. "Y/N, how many times do I tell you to NOT be late?"

"IT'S NOT MY FAULT, THIS APARTMENT IS NEW AND I DONT KNOW WHERE I PUT WHAT!" you screamed back, dashing through the hall. "Now I can't find my bag, awesome."

"Got it," Tony said, plucking it off the floor. "Let's go please."

Steven grabbed your wrist.

"WAIT, wait wait, what's going on?" he asked slowly. "Are you an ave-"

"Oh shit I promised you we'd go to the museum today, didn't I? I'm so sorry. I'll get us tickets for a movie tonight to make up for it! We can have dinner in a fancy restaurant too, what about that?"

You were talking too fast, and he only caught words like dinner, movie and restaurant. He was about to ask another question, but you had already followed Natasha out the door.

He looked at the mirror, smiling in panic.

I think I have a date with an avenger.

-

"What?" you asked Tony as soon as you were out of the building. He only smiled teasingly.

"First Scott, now Steven, you do have a type," he noted.

"Oh shut up!"

——————

——————

steven grant taglist: @prettysbliss

[starryhyuck]

dangerous game. (m)

pairing: dilf!jaehyun x younger!reader

words: 1.9k+

summary: jaehyun is your father’s co-worker, but it’s not your fault that he’s undeniably hot.

genre: smut

warnings: older!jaehyun, younger!reader, car sex, public sex, creampie, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy

“It’s not like he’s your dad, you know.”

You glare at Sookyung, who’s innocently sipping at her glass of champagne. You pinch her arm and she squeals.

“He could be! He’s just as old as my dad,” you comment, eyes roaming over Jeong Jaehyun’s figure.

He was just recently hired into your father’s corporation and proven himself to be a worthy asset, his dimples charming everyone who comes his way. He’s built up a strong relationship with your parents, bringing over his daughter to hang out with you sometimes. You wonder if he’ll always see you as a kid — a friend of his daughter’s to have play dates with.

Speaking of the devil, Haerim bounces over and smiles at you and Sookyung. Luckily, Haerim got her looks from her mother so you don’t feel so odd when you gaze over at her.

“How are you two doing? I’m kind of bored,” she comments, fingers gripping her own champagne glass.

Sookyung gives you the eye and you know what she’s thinking — you practically sped home from college just to stare at Jaehyun all night, jumping at your father’s invitation as soon as he called.

“We’re doing fine,” Sookyung replies, and you grow wary of her mischievous smile. “How about you and your dad? Any luck with finding him a date?”

Haerim shakes her head. “Nope. He’s probably just not ready to move on yet.”

Sookyung grins. “Maybe he just hasn’t met the right girl.”

You glare at her. Haerim shrugs.

“Yeah, maybe.”

—

It’s only a few weeks later when you come home for Christmas. Your father greets you at the door and your mother lets you know they have company over. You try to keep your resolve when you see Jaehyun at the table, his smile taking your breath away like it always has.

“Jaehyun’s spending Christmas with us,” your father mentions as you take your seat.

“And Haerim?” You ask, eyes locking with Jaehyun’s.

“At her mother’s for the holidays,” Jaehyun responds, dark eyes gazing at you. You nod, and as soon as you dig into your meal, your father and Jaehyun are chatting it up. “That’s crazy, Doyoung. I couldn’t imagine any of the investors buying that crap.”

Your father laughs and your mother leans over to speak with you.

“I want you to be nice to Jaehyun while he’s here. He’s having a rough time, first holiday after the divorce and everything.”

You smile. “I’ll keep him good company, I promise.”

She pats your cheek. “That’s my girl.”

It’s later in the night when you keep your promise, knocking on the guest room door. You’ve taken Sookyung’s advice and luckily packed all of your best underwear, matching bra and all. You know deep down you shouldn’t get your hopes up, especially since Jaehyun is still learning to live without his wife.

All those thoughts are thrown away, however, when he opens the door. You grin innocently at him.

“I hope you’re enjoying your stay, Mr. Jeong. I was just checking up on you.”

He smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “Is that so? Well, thank you for being such a hospitable host.”

Sookyung’s words bounce around in your head, still lingering when you called her after dinner. Flirt. Remind him you’re very mature for your age. And wear that red thong I bought you for your birthday!

You laugh. “Yes, well, I think my father would be upset if he knew I wasn’t being very friendly.”

He chuckles and nods his head. “We can’t have that, can we?”

“No, we can’t.”

Your gazes lock, and you swear his eyes darken a little. He opens his mouth to say something before you hear footsteps. Your father comes around the corner, smiling and placing his hand on your shoulder.

“I can see you’re treating Jaehyun nicely.”

“She was,” Jaehyun answers. “You raised her well, Doyoung.”

“I hope so,” your father laughs, placing a kiss on your head. “Listen, Jaehyun, we’re going out tomorrow to get all the groceries we need to make Christmas dinner. I was wondering if you would tag along with Y/N to find a suitable tree for the living room.”

Your eyes practically light up, and Jaehyun chuckles.

“I think that would be fine,” he nods, gaze returning to you. “We’ll leave in the morning?”

You smile. “Sounds good.”

—

Car rides with Jaehyun are more arousing than you expected. You’ve been on edge since you’ve been on the road with him, mainly because you’re unsure of how to make the first move. If he ends up not even liking you in that way, he could definitely tell your father and further humiliate you.

“You’re quiet this morning.”

Your head darts to look over at him, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Oh,” you laugh awkwardly. “Just a lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Care to enlighten me?” He hums.

This is a very dangerous game.

“I just- um-“ you pause, trying to comprehend your thoughts. Jaehyun chuckles at your internal struggle. Oh God. What if he just sees me as a kid? I’m wearing this uncomfortable thong and all he sees is his daughter’s little friend-

“I don’t think we can,” he comments, taking you off guard.

You frown. “Don’t think we can what?”

He sighs. “I want to be with you in that way, but your dad-“

Your eyes widen. “Wait wait wait. You like me? I mean, you like me like that?”

He smirks, taking his eyes off of the road for a mere second to glance at you. “Yes, I like you like that. But it’s too complicated. You’re young, and-“

You scoff. “I’m not that young.”

“You’re as young as my daughter,” he reminds you. “And your father and I are good friends. Plus, he has all the power to fire me whenever he wants, and I don’t think I can afford to lose my job right now.”

Sookyung’s voice grows louder in your head. Make him want you. Show him he can’t resist.

Your eyelashes flutter closed, fingers drifting down to your core.

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

You ignore him, one hand slithering into your underwear and stroking your folds gently. You throw your head back and moan. You can feel the car swerve a little.

“Y/N, you shouldn’t be doing this. I’m driving, this is dangerous and I-“

“Touch me, Mr. Jeong,” you beg, opening your eyes to stare directly at him. “Please?”

It isn’t long before he pulls over on the side of the road and leans over the console to press his lips against yours. You whimper when his fingers tug on your hair, exposing your neck to him.

“Such a little slut,” he hisses, lips attaching to your neck and sucking gently. “We could’ve gotten into an accident.”

“But we didn’t,” you remind him, guiding his hand to your core. “Can you fuck me now?”

He growls. “Filthy little mouth. Does your dad know you talk this way?”

You shake your head. “No, daddy wouldn’t like that.”

He curses lowly and you know you’ve got him. He pushes the seat all the way back and climbs until he’s hovering over you, tongue desperately exploring the expanse of your mouth. He replaces your fingers with his, digits slowly playing with your folds before sliding two into your waiting hole. You whine into the kiss and he pauses briefly.

“You’re not a-“

“Virgin?” You raise an eyebrow. “No. But don’t tell daddy.”

He growls, attacking you once again and curling his fingers upwards. You’re both lucky he’s pulled over to an abandoned part of the town, and his tinted windows giving you even further security.

“We have to be quick, baby,” he whispers breathlessly. “Still have to bring a tree home.”

The clothes come off quickly after that, your hands gripping Jaehyun’s shirt and flinging it over your shoulder. He laughs at your eagerness, palming at your breast and kissing your mound.

“Such a pretty body,” he murmurs, lips darting over your nipple. You moan and arch your back.

“Yeah? Prettier than your ex-wife’s?”

He smirks. “Prettier. Younger. Hotter.”

You whimper when he throws your dress to the side, fingers dancing over your choice of underwear.

“Isn’t that pretty? You wear that for me, sweet girl?”

You giggle. “Only for you, daddy.”

He flips you over, smacking your ass along the way. You enjoy the way he manhandles you, pulling your hair back and tugging it harshly.

“Is this how you like it? Exposed like a whore for anyone to see? What would your parents say if they saw you like this?”

“What would your daughter say if she saw you about to fuck a girl the same age as her?” You counter.

He smiles. “She wouldn’t like it, that’s for sure.”

You feel his tip prod your entrance and you moan, gripping the headrest of the passenger seat. Jaehyun kisses your shoulders, cupping your breasts and sliding into you.

You cry at the stretch, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock as he enters you. He’s thick. And huge. Definitely the biggest you’ve ever taken.

He curses in your ear. “Fuck, baby. Your pussy’s so fucking tight.”

“Never-“ you gasp, catching your breath when he sinks deeper and deeper. “Never had someone this big, daddy.”

You both groan when he bottoms out, lips parting at the pleasure you���re receiving. You feel so full, and Jaehyun’s cock is like a fever dream.

“Jaehyun, please,” you beg, aching for him to move.

He follows your order, grabbing your hips and snapping into you. You moan loudly, the sound of his hips connecting with your thighs echoing throughout the vehicle. He feels so perfect inside of you and you blubber his name over and over again.

You imagine how sinful you both look, with Jaehyun fucking you desperately in the passenger seat of his car, where Haerim probably sat when he used to drive her to school everyday. You whimper at the thought as Jaehyun drills into you, panting in your ear.

“Feels so good, baby,” he praises you. “Wanna fuck you all day.”

“Will you?” You ask, whining when he nudges against your sweet spot. “Will you fuck me when we get back home?”

“If you can stay quiet,” he chuckles and you giggle with him. He groans when you clench around him. “You going to cum for me, baby? Show me how much you want it, sweet girl.”

You fall apart around him, squeezing his cock for dear life as you orgasm. You’re completely spent but Jaehyun still plows into you, chasing his high. You prod him a little.

“Please, daddy. Want to feel you cum inside me.”

“Yeah?” He grunts, his voice dropping an octave. “Are you on the pill?”

The beat of silence is deafening. “What if I wasn’t?”

He groans. “Don’t mess with me, baby. I’m going to explode.”

“Wouldn’t you like to see that? Your cum dripping down my thighs at dinner, trying not to let my dad see? What if he found out I was pregnant? What would he do then?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jaehyun hisses. “Baby, I can’t. I’m going to cum.”

“Knock me up, Jae,” you giggle, pushing back against him. “Show everyone how filthy you are, getting a girl half your age pregnant with your child. What would Haerim think?”

He pushes deep inside you and cries out, shooting ribbons into your waiting womb. You smile deviously, pushing further back onto him so none of his cum would spill out. He’s still cumming after a minute, and his warmth fills your stomach.

You grin. “Had a lot to give me, didn’t you?”

He growls and leans down, nipping at your ear.

“I’m getting you pregnant while I’m here, you little minx.”

“Looking forward to it.”