#this is all sounding very magical spell-y to me

[code31-onthedancefloor]

i can't remember exactly where i heard this but if elysium is a place that 'has magic/spells, but hasn't discovered it yet', i wonder if plasm - as a collective belief turned ideological force turned physical force - has anything to do with this

[smileysuh]

seeing double

🌙staring. Johnny & John x afab!Reader 

🔮 preview. “As much as I’d love to fuck two of you, I know you’ve always been interested in a threesome with two guys, and we both know I’m too protective to let anyone else touch you. I found this cloning spell and I figured, if there’s one man I can share you with, it’s myself.” 

tw/cw. Threesome, unprotected sex, oral, blow jobs, pussy eating, praise, dirty talk, degradation, y/n calls Johnny daddy twice, John calls y/n whore/slut/bitch once each cuz he's an ass, demonic double John is a bit of a dick, anal fingering, deep throating, spit-roasting/Eiffel tower, double penetration (pussy/mouth), triple penetration (pussy/mouth/finger in ass), spanking, choking, biting, punishment, blindfold/sensory deprivation, big dick Johnny, pussy stretching, John cums on her face, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 6.9k

🍭 aus. Warlock Johnny, established relationship, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. ya'll thought one Johnny was enough for us, but I give you double John- threesome of the year

“Do you trust me?” Johnny asks, pulling away from a breathtaking kiss to lock his gaze with your own. His hands are gentle on your hips, but something in his smile makes you uneasy.

“It depends,” you admit. “I thought I trusted you last month when you decided summoning a demon was a good idea but that didn’t turn out very well, did it, Johnny?”

“What do you mean?” he laughs. “That was a great idea! He gave me a new spell book!”

“Yeah, a book of black magic! Please tell me you haven’t been messing around with that again-”

“Fine, I haven’t been messing around with it,” Johnny pulls you deeper into his room, “I’ve been reading it.” 

“Johnny-”

“Trust me on this one, I found a spell and I think you’ll really like it!”

You can’t believe you’re humoring your boyfriend on this, but with a sigh, you take a seat on his bed. “Fine, what is it?” 

“It’s a cloning spell,” Johnny grins, picking up the Demonic Grimoire.

“A cloning spell?” you repeat, eyes widening. “Are you trying to suggest a threesome or something? You know, if you want another girl to join, it’s easier to just go find one rather than conjure up a double-”

“Not another girl,” Johnny cuts you off. “As much as I’d love to fuck two of you, I know you’ve always been interested in a threesome with two guys, and we both know I’m too protective to let anyone else touch you. I found this cloning spell and I figured, if there’s one man I can share you with, it’s myself.” 

You simply stare at him for a moment, trying to register his words. “You mean… you want to…”

“Conjure up a clone of myself, and rail you with him, yeah.” Johnny’s grin widens. “Besides, that demon did warn me that most of the shit in this Grimoire is made for sin, and what’s more sinful than this? Lust, gluttony, pride, greed, sloth, hell, even envy is probably going to pop up. Maybe you’ll feel a little wrath too, if you act bratty. We can do all seven of the deadly sins in one go!”

You find yourself laughing. “You sound way too excited about committing cardinal sins, Johnny.”

“Well, I am half demon, remember.”

Sometimes you do forget that your sweet boyfriend is partly demonic. But his stint with the pentagram last month had reminded you just how close to Hell he really is, even behind his large smile and the ‘I love you’s’ that he showers onto you daily.

Many warlocks have a demon mark. Some have horns, or a tail- some sort of clear sign that they’re not of this world. But your Johnny? The only mark he has connecting him to the land below is heterochromia, one eye with a black iris, the other brown. In low lighting, it’s almost easy to miss the slight difference in color, and your boyfriend blends seamlessly into the human world with something as mundane as a pair of sunglasses. Others of his kind aren’t nearly as lucky. 

It’s been over twenty years since all manner of ‘night beings’ revealed themselves to your world. Vampires, witches, warlocks, werewolves, demons, angels- the list goes on. And while humanity has gotten used to these ‘others,’ they’re not fully accepted yet either. You have family members who would have a heart attack if they knew what you got up to with Johnny every week.

“Come on, baby,” Johnny sets his Grimoire down in favor of grabbing your hand. “I’ll only do it if you want to give it a try.” 

“Is it easy to cancel the spell?” you ask. “Last time you conjured that cat with batwings we couldn’t get rid of it for a week-”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t love Mister Whisker-Bat by the end of the week though, you were just as sad to see him go as I was,” Johnny insists. “But yeah, canceling the spell is easy. I’ll be using one of my hairs for the spell, to get rid of the double, all we have to do is light the small alter - and hair - on fire.”

“Sounds simple enough.”

“Is that a yes?” Johnny’s eyes widen. “You’ll have a threesome with me and me?”

You laugh at his choice of words. “You can conjure him and we can see what he’s like, how’s that sound?”

“Trust me, baby, you’ll love him.” Johnny flashes you a wink, his brown eye disappearing momentarily so all you see is the black one. It’s a quirk of his, whenever he winks, it’s always the demon eye on full display. 

“How are you so sure about this?” you ask, standing from the bed and wrapping your arms around the back of Johnny’s neck, looking up at him with a smile. His confidence is one of the things you love most about him, even if it does get him into trouble.

“I just am, it’s a feeling I have.” He shrugs, hands finding your hips. 

It’s impossible to be this close to your boyfriend and not kiss him, so that’s what you do, pressing your mouth against his. It’s gentle at first, but as with everything when it comes to your warlock boyfriend, it quickly turns heated.

Johnny’s tongue swipes across your lip, begging for entry. You invite him into your mouth, stifling a moan at the feeling as his hands hold you closer, tugging you flush to his chest.

You have no idea what tonight will be like, but you do trust Johnny. He’d never let you get hurt, and you doubt his clone will either.

Your fingers slip up to thread through his hair. He’s had it dyed a blondish grey for as long as you’ve known him, and you’re living for the way it sets off his skin tone. You’d half expected the strands to be crunchy when you’d first kissed him months ago, but his hair is as smooth as silk- Johnny has some sort of potion hair mask that he uses to keep himself shiny and soft. 

You tug gently on his hair and Johnny groans against your mouth, digging his digits against your hips. He’d said he needs hair for this spell to work, and you narrow in on two strands, biting his lip at the same time you give a rough yank.

“Ow!” Johnny yelps, pulling away from you. He looks down at you with wide eyes.

“You said you needed hair for the spell,” you grin, holding out the strands. “Here, I was just trying to help.”

He gives you a look that says he doesn’t quite believe you, and it only makes your smile widen. 

“Okay,” Johnny sighs. “Let’s do this.”

You watch him approach the small alter he’s made on his desk. There’s a large, circular mirrored tray as the base. Covering the reflective surface is a number of dried herbs and other warlock items, a bottle of something dark red, what looks like salt or ash- there’s also a few runes decorating the space, and bits of parchment covered in incantations. 

Johnny sets his hair in the center, then pulls a lighter out of his jean pocket. He lifts a black candle, igniting it. As the flame licks the wick, Johnny begins to speak in some form of demonic language, picking up the Grimiore with his free hand. 

You practically hold your breath, watching him as he tilts the candle at an angle, allowing the hot wax to drip down onto his hair, sticking it to the mirror. When he seems satisfied with the amount of black wax, he sets the candle down next to the hairs. 

His voice has taken on a deeper edge as he continues reading the spell, and you can practically see the power begin to radiate off your warlock boyfriend, like grey waves resounding out from his flesh, echoing through the room. 

Your hair stands on edge, a slight heat overtaking you, and you smell the familiar scent of brimstone. It’s a smell you’ve become accustomed to since Johnny apprehended the Grimoire in his hands, and it’s always given you an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You like to think of Johnny as your soft boyfriend, but he’s a warlock, and the demonic side of him is never more evident than on nights like these.

You’re not sure what to expect as Johnny’s spell work comes to an end. Bat-cat had appeared in a puff of smoke, but as you look around, there’s no dark cloud, no evident conjuration-

“Huh,” Johnny cocks his head to the side. “That should have worked-”

The lights flicker out, the room going dark aside from the one black candle burning on the altar.

Then, just as suddenly, the lights turn back on, and your gaze shifts to the switch by the door. Your breath catches as you take in the man standing there, one hand lazily touching the switch. Johnny’s double has appeared, and he’s the one who just turned the lights back on.

“Hi, losers.”

While the new Johnny clone is wearing the same white shirt and black jeans combo your boyfriend has on, this Johnny has dark hair. You’ve always loved your boyfriend’s coloured strands, but there’s something so regal about the dark brown- it sets off the sharp angles of his face, and leaves you breathless.

“Who are you calling losers?” Johnny retorts, closing the Grimiore and turning to face the double at the door.

“I’m calling you two losers,” the clone grins. “You’re a loser for wanting a threesome with yourself, and she’s a loser for agreeing to it.”

“You’re a bit of a dick, aren’t you?” your boyfriend laughs.

“Not any more than you. I’m your double, anything I say or do is something you would say or do, well, it would be if you let your demonic side out more often. You’re so good at keeping that part of you under lock and key, but not tonight. Here I am.” The double pushes off from the wall, approaching your boyfriend. “Don’t be mad if you don’t like what you see.” 

“I’m not mad about what I see,” Johnny says thoughtfully, “I’m just wondering why your hair is so dark. Thought you were supposed to be a clone.”

“My hair is like your demon side, you can try to cover it up, make it lighter, but this spell always knows your true self. Besides, baby thinks I look good with this hair colour,” the clone’s gaze shifts to you, and he flashes you that classic Johnny grin, “isn’t that right, baby?”

“I-” your words get choked in your throat, and you swallow thickly, looking between your boyfriend and his darker double. “Johnny-”

“Another charade to appear nicer,” the clone clicks his tongue. “Your blonde, soft-looking boyfriend might go by the name Johnny. But tonight, you’ll call me John.”

“You’re not the one calling the shots tonight,” your boyfriend interjects, “but… having two different names for us isn’t a bad idea.”

“It’s a great idea,” John smirks, “you came up with it yourself.”

“Can’t argue with you there.”

The two handsome men exchange a knowing glance, and your insides twist with anticipation. 

They’re gonna fuck you up and you just know it.

“So, since I’m not the one calling the shots,” John sighs, gaze shifting to you again, “how about you tell me how this is going to go? I’d hate to step on any… toes.”

He’s looking at you like he wants to eat you up. You’re used to Johnny’s black iris, but John’s dark hair makes it stand out even more. It’s noticeably demonic, and it makes your heart race in your chest. You feel like a prey being sized up by a predator, and something about it has your panties getting wet.

“You know what?” your soft lover cocks his head to the side. “Baby, how about you tell us what you want to do? You’re the one who’s about to be railed, you should get to choose how it happens, don’t you think?”

“I like how you say that as if you’ll actually fully listen to her,” John scoffs. 

“What do you mean? I always give baby a say in things.”

“Yeah. Sure. Except you nudge her in the direction you want to go. We both know it’s only going to take a little stroking, a little making her gag on our cocks, and she’ll be putty in our fucking hands. Baby just wants to please, isn’t that right, pretty girl?” John’s grin widens when all you can do is stare at him.

There might be a response for his lewd observation, but you’re already feeling nice, submissive and dumb. There are no thoughts in your head except ‘holy fuck.’

This dark John is really hot, especially when contrasted by your light boyfriend. 

You’re literally in awe, lips parted ever so slightly, your body tingling with anticipation.

“You know what?” Johnny sighs. “You’re right. We both know baby loves when we’re in control, so lets just… be in control.”

“Now you’re talking,” John grins. “I’ve got a suggestion.”

“Let's hear it.”

“What if we blind fold her? Make her guess who’s touching. Punishment for wrong answers.”

“Punishment?” you ask, voice coming out much shakier than you’d meant for it to.

“Nothing you won’t like,” John assures you. “Now be a good girl and grab the blindfold from the bedside table for us.”

Your eyes shift to Johnny, and he gives you a small nod. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you turn and do as you’re asked, holding out the silky eye covering a moment later. 

“Now put it on,” John instructs. “And this time, don’t look at him for permission. Just do it.”

You do as you’re told, hands shaky as you cover your sight with a strip of darkness. As soon as your vision is blocked, you feel more sensitive. You feel even more like prey. Most of all, you feel vulnerable.

There’s a half-demon warlock and a dark clone with demonic intentions staring at you like they want to eat you up. To top it all off, you’ve now just blocked off one of the most important senses.

The bed dips next to you, and you jump slightly from the motion. 

A large hand smooths across the back of your neck, angling you to face the side, and then lips are pressing against your own. 

This mouth is familiar, and you lean into the kiss, letting out a sigh of relief. You reach out, grabbing at the man’s knee to steady yourself, wanting to get lost in the person’s lips-

But then they’re pulling back. “Guess who?” they ask, voice soft. 

“Johnny?”

A small chuckle, and you realize immediately that you’ve already failed the first test.

“How easy it is to trick you, baby.” He lets out a deep sigh, pulling away completely, standing from the bed. “Time for your first punishment. I think three smacks should suffice. Get on all fours, and say thank you for each one.”

Your skin tingles, heart beating wildly in your chest. You do as you’re told. 

Getting into a doggy position, you bend down slightly, arching your back. You’re on edge, listening intently for movement. Soft footfalls let you know someone is approaching, and then two hands grab your asscheeks through your pants, squeezing roughly.

“First three through the jeans, but once we’re done with you, I’m taking these off.” 

It’s not a question. It’s a statement, and you let out a small moan of affirmation.

Your panties are sticking to your core already, and the first hit makes you cry out, pussy clenching around nothing. It had been a heavy-handed smack, harder than Johnny has ever hit you before- but there’s something almost delicious about it.

Your toes curl, and you suck in a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

“Good girl,” someone praises you.

Another smack has you moaning even louder, grabbing at the bed sheets and bunching them up in your hands. “Fuck, thank you!”

The third hit has you practically trembling. You can already feel a bruise forming- but the pain is perfection, in a masochistic kind of way.

“Thank you!”

“Time to guess who delivered your punishment, baby.” 

You feel like a dumb little slut. You’re already slipping into sub-space, delirious and horny. If you had it your way, maybe you wouldn’t even want to speak full sentences anymore. Your mind is swimming, and nothing feels coherent. 

“I-” you lick your lips. The smacks had been hard. “John?”

“Wrong again, pretty girl. Your soft boyfriend is the one who just punished you, but I guess he’s not so soft anymore. In fact… I’d say he’s quite hard. We both are.” 

“Fuck-” you groan, imagining your boyfriend’s cock all stiff in his pants- then you remember that the visual should be doubled, and you can feel your mouth beginning to water.

“Second punishment, suck us off. We’ll see if you really know your boyfriend’s cock or not.”

A hand grabs at you, helping you off the bed and onto your knees on the floor. “Johnny?” you ask.

“Wow, you finally got one right.” The laugh that fills the room is distinctly clone like. 

“Do I get a reward, John?” 

“The reward is you get to suck cock, and since you just got two in a row, you’ll get to suck both of us.”

It’s almost comical how reward and punishment are the same thing, but you’re in too deep to question it. 

Now is not the time to be bratty, and you know it.

There’s a small shuffle in front of you, and then someone instructs you to “Stick out your tongue.”

You do as you’re told, and a second later, a cock is tapped against your wet muscle. You fight the urge to try to suck on it, allowing the man to coat themselves in your saliva. You even begin to drool, and you feel a drip make its way down your chin.

 “Suck.”

You immediately lean forward, swallowing the bulbous head into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around it, and you sink down as far as you can. Johnny has a big cock, you’ve never been able to take it all, but that never stops you from trying.

Your hands brace against someone’s thighs, and you begin to bob your head. The man above you lets out a groan, fingers threading through your hair, guiding you to bob faster, taking more and more into your mouth.

“Guess who,” the man you’re sucking on breathes.

You pull off his cock, feeling a line of spit still connecting you to the best dick you’ve ever had. “Johnny.”

“That’s my girl.” He pulls you onto him again, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag. Your fingers dig into his thighs. You push your reflex away, doing your best to please your boyfriend.

“Fuck it,” comes a rough voice, “my turn.”

A second hand grabs your hear, tugging you away from your boyfriend’s cock- only for the same cock to be pushed past your lips. 

It’s sinful how exact the clone is. He has the same large vein running along the underside of his length, the same mushroom tip, the same slight curve, the same taste-

But his motions are different. He’s more aggressive, forcing you all the way onto him like you’d willingly taken Johnny just moments ago. The sudden feeling of his tip hitting the back of your throat with no prep - no sucking to start - has you gagging hard, your eyes beginning to water.

Grabbing onto his thighs to steady yourself, you do your best to relax, to focus on the sounds beginning to leave John’s lips, but as he fucks your face, it’s hard not to feel every inch of him. 

“Don’t be so rough,” Johnny tuts.

“Don’t be a backseat vouyer,” John retorts. 

“She’s being good for you, why are you being so mean?”

“This is part punishment, remember?” You listen to the clone click his tongue, and then he’s tearing your blindfold off. “Besides, I like how she looks when she cries.”

This is so sick and twisted.

If John is saying this, it means that somewhere, buried inside your soft boyfriend, he also likes seeing your eyes well with tears. 

You struggle to open your eyes, looking up at John. He’s staring down at you, and he releases a deep groan when he notices you watching him. “You love this, don’t you, baby? You love being used like our little fuck toy. Love taking this big cock deep in your fucking throat-”

You hate that he’s right.

Your panties must be soaked by now.

“Fuck-” Johnny whispers, and you wonder how it looks for him to watch himself fuck your face like this. “Okay, that’s enough.”

“It’s enough when I say it’s enough.”

“It’s enough,” your boyfriend states, firmer this time. 

“Someone finally grew a backbone,” John laughs, pulling his cock from your mouth. You gasp at the loss, a line of spit still connecting you to the rock-hard length in front of your face. Tears trail down your cheeks, and you’re breathing heavily. You dig your fingers into John’s thighs, marveling in the moment of reprieve. 

“Are you alright, baby?” Johnny asks. When you turn to look at him, concern is evident all over his face.

You nod, and it takes a moment for you to find your voice. “Yes, daddy.”

“Fuck, I forgot she calls us that sometimes.”

“She calls me daddy sometimes,” Johnny corrects, “and only when she’s in subspace- you really did a number on her.” 

“We did a number on her. You started it with the spankings, remember?” 

Johnny ignores his clone, reaching down to help you to your feet. He leads you to sit on the bed, getting onto his knees so he can be eye level with you. “He wasn’t too rough on you, was he?”

You shake your head. “No.”

“You’re still good for this?”

You nod, reaching forward to grab at the front of his white tshirt. Johnny lets you pull him in for a kiss, his large hands smoothing along your thighs.

Your tongue dips out to stroke his own and your boyfriend groans, squeezing you through your jeans. “Pants off,” he says, dragging his lips from yours so he can begin to tear your clothes from your body.

It’s shocking how quickly he gets you down to your underwear, and then he pushes you onto the bed. He pries your thighs open, and you feel two sets of dark eyes on your core.

“Already soaked. I knew you liked being our good little cock slut.” 

“I guess I should give you a taste first, seeing as the only cock that’s going inside this pussy tonight is mine,” your boyfriend sighs, pressing one kiss to your knee before standing up to make space for his clone.

“Yeah, our cock.”

“My cock,” Johnny says, firmly this time. “You only get her mouth.”

“What’s the point of a demonic threesome if she’s not going to be properly double stuffed?” John asks, sinking down onto the floor between your spread thighs. 

“One in the pussy, one in the mouth is double stuffed.”

“We both know I want her ass,” John rolls his eyes.

“I’ve never even been in her ass, don’t get greedy.” Johnny clicks his tongue.

Their bantering is doing something to you. The way they discuss this so confidently as if you’re not even in the room- you’re getting a view of Johnny’s inner thoughts, the battles he has with his demonic self-

He’s never talked to you about anal. But then again, his cock is so big it had taken you a while to even be able to receive it fully in your pussy, let alone somewhere else. 

“If you’re good tonight, I’ll consider conjuring you again,” Johnny says finally.

You swallow thickly, gaze shifting to your soft boyfriend who’s really taken the reigns over his demonic double. John chuckles between your legs, shaking his head slightly before pressing his lips to your inner thigh.

“Did you hear that, baby?” John asks. “Sounded like a challenge to make you cum.” 

“Then I guess…” your voice is much to hoarse and shuddery for your liking, “I guess you better not disappoint.” 

The clone between your legs scoffs loudly. “As if disappointing you was ever an option.”

You open your mouth to respond, only for John to press his face against your panty-covered core. His tongue flicks through the soaked fabric, teasing by your clit and making your legs twitch. Your hands fly to grab at his dark hair, and a whimper slips out of you.

He’s being a tease, and from the way he’s looking up at you, smirking while kissing your pussy through your panties, John clearly knows what he’s doing. You shift under his mouth, laying back against the bed and pushing your core closer to him, tightening your grip in his hair.

“Please-”

“Begging already?” Johnny asks, moving to sit next to you on the bed. “Thought you’d hold out a little longer.”

“Can’t,” you mewl, arching your back as John pulls your panties to the side, blowing cool air along your throbbing cunt. “I need-” You lick your lips, gaze dropping to Johnny’s hard cock.

“You want something to suck on, don’t you, baby?” Johnny grins, reaching out to stroke your face as his clone’s tongue dives into your core.

“Yes,” you nod, accepting your boyfriend’s thumb past your lips. You moan around the digit, thighs clenching as John sucks lewdly on your clit, flicking at it with his tongue while you stroke Johnny’s finger with your own.

“I guess I can let you suck me off for a bit, get you ready to take him in your throat-” Johnny muses. “But I want you on all fours, I wanna fuck your face, and I can’t do it at this angle.”

The man between your thighs pulls away suddenly, and his large hands easily flip you over, getting you ready for your boyfriend. It must be nice for him to have such a willing participant in the bedroom- you’re pretty sure Johnny could make any command, and John would follow through with getting it set up for him.

They have a one-track mind, and you’d bet your life that John is just as excited to get you on all fours as Johnny is.

Two large hands grip your ass, spreading your cheeks while Johnny shuffles to his knees and presents his cock to you. As you accept Johnny past your lips, a tongue presses into your wet hole again, and your toes curl at the stimulus. 

“Just like that, baby,” Johnny coos, pushing your hair out of your face. “You suck on me, while he sucks on you.” 

John growls against your clit, squeezing your ass roughly and shaking his head back and forth, earning a squeal that’s muffled by Johnny’s cock, which begins to glide in and out of your mouth.

“It’s funny- I can almost taste you,” Johnny muses. “I wonder if he can feel you on his cock like I can-”

The double pulls his lips from your pussy, and you can feel him momentarily panting, trying to catch his breath from the enthusiastic way he’s been eating you out. “I can feel it,” John confirms. “She’s always so good at sucking us off, even if she can’t fit much of us in that little mouth of hers.”

“She’s gotten better at blow jobs,” Johnny defends you, sinking further past your lips. “When she started, she could hardly take three inches, now look at her.”

His cock hits the back of your throat and you fight through your gag reflex. Your eyes are watering, so you shut them, focusing on being a good girl for your boyfriends.

Boyfriends. Plural. 

You suppose - in this sex-induced haze - you’re already thinking of John as a lover. Any man eating you out as chaotically and thoroughly as he should be considered one, right?

When John’s mouth returns to your pussy and his thumb begins to circle your asshole, you definitely think of him as a boyfriend. Only your boyfriend is allowed to toy with you like this.

“Are you serious?” Johnny’s voice distracts you, the thrusts of his face fucking slowing down. “We just discussed no anal-”

“It’s just a finger,” the clone retorts. “She’ll love it. She’s already practically dripping- reacting all nice and pretty just from the thought, isn’t that right, baby?”

A gentle smack on your ass prompts you to pull off of Johnny’s cock, bracing yourself against one of his thighs while you catch your breath. You find yourself nodding, moaning like a whore in heat. “Please- I can take a finger, I can try-”

“We knew jealousy was a part of this, envy- one of the seven cardinal sins,” teeth graze your butt cheek. “I’m jealous of you getting her mouth and pussy, I’m sure you can suffer through watching me finger fuck this tight ass for the first time. We both know you’ll be the first to actually fuck it sooner or later- why can’t you let me have this one win? Come on Johnny, she’ll love it. You conjured me to make her feel good, didn’t you?” 

“Fuck, you’re too convincing,” Johnny sighs, stroking your face. “Beg him for it, baby. I need to know you actually want this.”

“I want it so bad,” you whimper, a rush of emotion flooding through you. “Please, I wanna be full- I wanna feel it-” A strangled gasp escapes your lips when John spits on your ass, rubbing the fluid around your tight hole before pressing the tip of his finger inside of you. “Oh my god-”

Johnny threads his fingers through your hair, tugging so you’re forced to look up at him. “The moment you cum, we’re switching positions and I’m fucking you, got it, baby?” 

“Yes, daddy,” you moan.

“Now open up.”

You do as you’re told, and Johnny slips his cock back into your mouth, picking up where he’d left off.

Generally, when you’re blowing Johnny, it’s hard to focus on anything else. But today, it’s hard to focus on anything other than John, whose finger fills your ass perfectly while his tongue circles your clit like magic.

You can feel a pleasure bubbling in the pit of your stomach, and each rough thrust from Johnny has your body tensing, the orgasmic coil wrapping tighter and tighter-

Despite the cock in your mouth, lewd sounds are escaping you. A gurgling noise that you know you should be ashamed of- but you can’t bring yourself to care, mind occupied on the high that’s approaching much too quickly.

It’s clear that John wants you to cum. He wants to tear your pleasure out of you faster than you can even think-

His thumb massages your inner walls, stretching your tight hole open and making your toes curl.

“That’s it baby,” Johnny praises you, his grip tight in your hair while he fucks your face. “Taking us both so well.”

You can feel a tear of overstimulation roll down your cheek. This is almost too much for you to handle, and you haven’t even cum yet.

One particularly rough thrust has your throat constricting around Johnny, and it’s the last bit of stimulus you need to come completely undone for your Johns. Your abdomen tenses, and just like that, the chord snaps. It snaps hard. 

You tear your mouth off of Johnny’s cock, practically screaming as your orgasm rips through you like wildfire. Your whole body is alight with pleasure, clit throbbing, pussy contracting around nothing, your ass sucking up John’s finger to betray the deep need that’s grown within you-

All you can do is moan like a desperate whore, clinging to Johnny’s thigh while John helps you ride out your orgasm. The double is unrelenting, as if he wants to work you for every last drop you can give him- his tongue switching between slurping at your clit and diving past your folds, stroking your walls as they shudder.

“Good girl,” Johnny groans, petting your head with one hand while the other wraps around his cock, stroking himself through your high. He’s patient with you, allowing you to experience every shiver and moan, until your walls stop contracting, and John pulls away from your pussy with a wet smack of his lips. “Time for the main event.”

His words make you feel drenched all over again. John pulls his thumb from your ass only to smack it roughly, giving you a squeeze for good measure. “Be sweet for us,” the double warns, as if you’ve ever been anything but their perfect princess. 

In just a few moments, Johnny and John have switched. Your light-haired boyfriend sets up behind you while the dark double settles by your face. His cock is red, leaking precum, and you realize you’ve hardly done much to touch him tonight- seeing as he just made you cum, you waste no time wrapping your lips around the mushroom tip, stroking your tongue along the ridge  you find there.

“Fuck,” John groans, threading his fingers through your hair to anchor you like your boyfriend had just minutes ago. “Who’s our good little cock whore?”

“She is,” Johnny answers for you, sinking his cock deep into your pussy. “Fuck, our perfect little cock whore.”

He’s never called you this before- but it sounds so natural coming from him and his clone. Is this yet another one of your boyfriend’s fantasies? First anal, and now you being a good little cock whore? 

Johnny is generally a man who sticks to praise, and while he’s still doing that- there’s this darker underlayer beginning to be more evident. Maybe you don’t know him as well as you thought. This threesome with your boyfriend’s dark self is illuminating for not only your twisted sexual desires, but Johnny’s as well. 

You can’t help the way you react to the term ‘cock whore,’ your pussy clenching tight around the large cock splitting you open. You begin to drool on John too, relaxing your throat as he begins to fuck your face. He might be a dark double, but John’s being shockingly soft with the amount you can take. He’s not thrusting fully- not making you gag and cry- he’s using you like a man who knows and respects your limits.

At least Johnny’s respect for you transcends form.

“You know what?” Johnny says. “I watched how hard she came with your thumb in her ass, I think you’re right about filling her up properly.”

“Bet she’ll go fucking feral for three holes filled,” the clone agrees darkly, making you moan around his cock. “See? Listen to her. She sounds like a bitch in heat. Fill her up, Johnny. She’ll fucking love it.” 

These men are downright insatiable- you kind of love it.

Just like his double had, Johnny spits onto your hole, and a moment later, his thumb is pressing past the tight ring of muscles. Your boyfriend’s thrusts falter slightly, his focus lingering on the way you swallow up his digit, fluttering around both foreign intrusions. 

“If we’d have known you’d like butt stuff this much, we would have started training you ages ago, baby,” John muses. 

“We’ve still got time.”

“I won’t get to fuck her ass tonight. What time do I have?”

“Next time.”

“So I passed the test? There’s gonna be a next time?”

“Based on how our baby is reacting, I’d say there’s definitely going to be a next time,” Johnny laughs. 

“Good. I might be a clone from hell, but I think never getting the chance to truly fuck this little kitten of ours would be the true torture.” 

The warlock fucking you while pressing his thumb deeper into your ass scoffs loudly. “And we can’t have that, can we?” 

“No.” John tightens his grip in your hair, fucking you harder. “We can’t… also, I have something to admit.”

“Oh?” Johnny releases a chuckle, thumb stilling inside of you. “Now this I have to hear.” 

“You’re under the impression I’ll be conjured until you light your hair and alter on fire, but unfortunately, at the moment, I’m bound to the candle as well. You missed the fine print in the Grimoire. When the candle reaches its end, I’ll disappear too.” 

In your periphery, you’re aware of both men turning to look toward the alter, and your boyfriend releases a small curse word. “I guess we better make this quick.”

“And you should buy a bigger candle next time, that six incher you used tonight is a fucking joke and we both know it.” 

“My bad,” Johnny begins railing into you as hard as he had so far, pressing his thumb deep inside of you. “Guess I’m not the best at reading the fine print.”

“It’s okay, something tells me baby can only take so much more of this. She’s drooling all over my cock, her throat all nice and open, so ready to be fucked-” John groans loudly. 

“We’ve really fucked her stupid, haven’t we, Big Guy?”

Your skin tingles- there’s an inkling of something deeper in Johnny’s tone… is he… is he flirting with himself?

The man above you moans louder. “Of course we did. Have you ever seen anyone with a better cock than this? And for her to get two of us? She’s the luckiest fucking girl in the whole world- I want her to thank us when we cum. Want her to know how fucking blessed she is by this.”

It’s an interesting paradox- to be blessed by a demonic threesome. 

“Are you gonna cum on her face?”

“Fuck, if you let me. She’ll look so pretty all painted in cum.”

“She can’t say thank you if you keep her mouth full,” Johnny notes, digging his fingers against your hips while railing you as hard as ever. Each smack of his hips against your ass has his cock fully buried in your wet core, the tip of his length pressing against your cervix and making your toes curl with insatiable need. 

“No, I guess she can’t.” John stuffs himself fully in your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You’ve never felt impaled like this- taking two of the largest dicks you’ve ever had- 

Your nose brushes by the dark clone’s pubic hair, and something about it makes you feel even more sinful, your throat constricting while lewd gagging noises fill the room. John holds you on his cock, letting out a deep groan at the feeling of your muscles tightening around him-

“That’s it baby, just a little more-”  

“Fuck, she’s squeezing so fucking tight-” Johnny moans from behind you.

“I can feel it,” John breathes.

“When you cum, I’ll have to cum-”

“She’s close too-”

“Fuck.” Johnny pulls his thumb out of your ass suddenly, wrapping his hand around your front so two fingers can circle your clit. At the same time, John takes his cock from your mouth, releasing a loud moan-

You cum in unison with the dark double, and from the loud grunt at your rear, you’re pretty sure Johnny’s just reached his peak as well.

You’re breathing heavily, mind completely delirious. Your throat feels raw as you swallow thickly- “Thank you, fuck, thank you, thank you, thank you-” you begin to blabber as John cums hard on your face, his large hand jerking himself off while ropes paint your skin.

“Good girl, good fucking girl-” Johnny groans behind you, fucking you through your highs while his fingers continue on your clit, drawing out your orgasm while your pussy milks him for every drop of cum he has. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you-” you can’t stop saying it, even while tears and cum begin to drip down your cheeks, your body completely overwhelmed by the two men who know you like the back of their hand.

Above you, John releases one last shuddery breath. He strokes your hair, whispering the word “Perfect-” and then, just as suddenly as he’d appeared, he disappears.

You collapse forward onto the bed, pussy still throbbing around Johnny, who slowly comes to a stop behind you.

Then he’s collapsing as well, laying his warm body against your back and pressing you against the mattress. His lips are hot along your bare shoulders and he seeks out your neck, teasing past your ear.

“You did so good for us,” he praises you. “Such a perfect baby.”

“Johnny-” you whimper, as deep in subspace as you’ve ever been in your whole life.

“I know, baby, I know. You don’t have to talk.” You hear him swallow thickly, and with one last kiss to your throat, he pulls away. “I’m gonna get you in a bath. Gonna wash all this cum off of you and cuddle you to sleep, sound good?”

“Please-” you moan, pussy clenching around him again.

“Fuck,” he groans, pulling his cock out of your tight, dripping hole. “We really did a number on you.”

But in all honesty, you really wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. 

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! dream threesome tbh

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🔮 preview. “What happened to your manners, baby?” John’s grip increases again, making your head dizzy. “You were sweeter to me last time. Only sweet girls get fucked in the ass. So are you going to be sweet for me? Or am I going to have to punish you into submission?” 

cw/ tw. Threesome, unprotected sex, anal, blow job, oral, praise, dirty talk, degradation, y/n calls Johnny daddy a few times,  demonic double John is a bit of a dick, anal fingering, double penetration (pussy/ass), big dick Johnny, pussy/ass stretching, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.7k I teaser wc. 270

🌙 staring. Johnny & John x afab!Reader

bonus

“Surprise, surprise. I didn’t think you two would conjure me again so soon.” 

Your heart skips a beat as you turn to find John standing by the door. It’s been less than a month since you’ve seen him last, and like that first time, he’s dressed as the mirror image of your boyfriend. However, it’s not a white shirt and blue jeans, this time, your boyfriend had gone for full black attire, and it matches the dark hair of his demonic double in a way that has you practically throbbing already.

“What can we say?” Johnny grins. “We liked having an extra set of hands.”

“As if our hands are the best thing about us,” John rolls his eyes, pushing off from the wall. He approaches you like a predator, and you’d missed the swagger in his step, it’s a unique stride that has your heart picking up pace in your chest. “There’s no lying to me, not when I know everything you know, Johnny. I’m here tonight because our perfect little baby is finally ready for the main attraction. She wants to be double stuffed. Fully.” 

“I guess there’s no point in fucking around,” Johnny laughs, “even if we do have more time than last I conjured you.”

Your gaze shifts to the massive candle burning on the altar. You and Johnny had gone to six different spell shops to find the largest one possible- it’s almost as big as Johnny’s dick when he’s hard, and girthy too. You’ve got all the time in the world tonight- even so, you don’t want to waste a second.

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[vbecker10]

Language (Part 6 - Final)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: Captain Rogers thinks you curse far too much at work so he came up with a way for each word to cost you fifty cents no matter where you are in the Tower. You are desperate for it to stop and go to Loki to see if he has a spell or trick that can help you outsmart J.A.R.V.I.S.

Warnings: swearing lol... obviously?

A/N: Thank you everyone who read this series! I'm sorry this last part took me so long to get to but I hope you all love it!! 💚💚 I'll be working on finishing the Night Nurse now then going back through my requests! 🙂

You watch anxiously when Thor pulls away from his younger brother. "Remove the spell from Y/N," the God of Thunder demands.

"To do that I will need the vial," Loki counters and takes another step forward, closing the distance between them. Loki reaches for it but Thor pulls his hand away, holding it just out of reach.

If you weren't so concerned about the safety of the vial, you might be able to appreciate how much they simply look like bickering brothers and not two Gods arguing over your voice.

Tony steps in, "Thor, give it back to the sea witch."

Loki glares at Tony, "I do not have the patience for you today tin man."

He looks back at Thor and without a word, he flicks his wrist, sending his seidr towards his brother. The green cloud surrounds his hand in an attempt to pull the vial free but Thor clenches his hand and pulls violently against Loki's magic.

"Stop!" Natasha yells.

Your eyes go wide and you cover your mouth with both hands as the vial slips free from Thor's grasp. Loki's seidr doesn't react fast enough and the small glass vial falls to the floor at the older Asgardian's feet, shattering into pieces.

You lower your hands slowly, watching the cloud of gray smoke quickly evaporate into nothing before you can even think to move. Your hand runs slowly up and down your throat, vaguely listening to the reactions of the team around you.

"Y/N... I did not think... I am so sorry-" Thor tries to apologize but you don't look at him.

"No... this was not supposed to happen," Loki runs his fingers through his hair, his expression full of guilt and concern but in an instant he becomes angry. "Thor! I told you not to touch the vial, why do you never listen to me? Look what you have done!"

"What I have done?" Thor asks, taking a step towards his younger brother. "None of this would have happened if you hadn't been so reckless with your magic."

Your attention finally shifts from the broken glass to the two Gods. Walking between the brothers, you interrupt their argument. You point angrily at Thor and ask, "Why the fuck couldn't you just listen to Loki, for once!? All you had to do was not touch the damn thing and you fucking broke it!" Your mouth moves quickly and you breathe harder but you don't make a sound. You turn to look at Loki and slowly mouth, "I never should have trusted you. I knew you were fucking useless."

Loki lowers his head, putting his hands behind his back to fidget with them while Thor rubs his beard, trying to think of something to say to you.

"Y/N, don't worry," Natasha says, keeping her voice calm and level as she pulls you into a supportive hug. Over your shoulder she glares at the trickster, "Loki is going to fix this."

"Damn right he is," Tony agrees angrily. "How the hell could you have screwed up this badly?"

"I do not see why all of the blame is being put on me," Loki takes a small step away from the team. "Thor is the careless oaf that dropped the vial after I specifically instructed him not to touch it."

"I was just trying to help Y/N," Thor defends his actions.

"As was I," Loki argues back.

"By stealing her voice?" Clint asks.

"I will remind you one final time, I did not steal anything," Loki clarifies. "How was I to know someone," he glares at Thor, "Would be foolish enough to disregard my very direct warning and break the vial?"

"What was the plan then?" Bruce asks as everyone gathers closer.

"It was supposed to be a simple trick. We thought once you saw the lengths Y/N went through to avoid swearing, Captain Rogers would turn off that ridiculous computer program to appease her," Loki explains and you nod along as he speaks, confirming that was the plan. "As soon as it was off, I was going to return her voice."

Loki turns to face you, "I am truly sorry Y/N. I never meant for this to happen-"

Steve interrupts Loki's apology, "I can't believe you trusted him to do this Y/N, you know how unreliable he is. Who's to say he would have given you your voice back even if this didn't all go to sideways?"

"Whatever other sea witches do when they steal voices," Bruce mumbles.

"Of course I would have honored our agreement. What would I do with Y/N's voice?" Loki asks.

"I am not a sea witch," Loki reminds them all angrily. "I am a god you pathetic mortal," he looks directly at Bruce who takes a step behind Clint.

"So if you weren't going for the shittiest impression of Ursula possible, why the hell would you take her voice if you knew it could be lost so fucking easily?" Tony swears at Loki.

Before Loki can answer, J.A.R.V.I.S activates three times in close secession. Each time it says, "Tony, fifty cents has been deducted from your upcoming paycheck as you are in violation of SHIELD's Inappropriate Language Policy, per Captain Rogers' orders."

"Oh, shit," Clint says and J.A.R.V.I.S charges him a second time. "Steve your little project is going rogue."

"What the hell was that?" Clint asks, looking at the holographic display.

"Clint, fifty cents has been deducted from your upcoming paycheck as you are in violation of SHIELD's Inappropriate Language Policy, per Captain Rogers' orders," J.A.R.V.I.S. announces.

Steve ignores the computer and Clint, grabbing Loki by the collar with one hand, "You will help Y/N and you will do it now. Is that understood?" You look quickly between Steve and Loki, biting your lip nervously.

"I may have a spell that can restore her voice," Loki pulls himself free from Steve and straightens his clothing. "But I cannot think with all of you swearing at me and threatening me."

"I haven't started threatening you," Tony says.

"Maybe you'll think faster if the hulk was around," Bruce adds, finding his confidence once more.

"That is not necessary," Loki says, his expression switching from annoyance to nervousness at the mention of the hulk.

"Then you better start fucking thinking," Tony says.

J.A.R.V.I.S activates, charging Tony again.

"If you wish for me to think here, I must insist you silence that useless program," Loki waves his hand at the holographic display.

"Steve, seriously shut that damn thing off," Tony says to the captain as J.A.R.V.I.S repeats the announcement.

Steve groans, "Fine. J.A.R.V.I.S, disregard SHIELD's Inappropriate Language Policy."

J.A.R.V.I.S confirms the order from Steve.

"Are you happy now?" Steve asks Loki, his arms folded across his chest.

Loki asks, "It has been turned off for everyone?"

"Yes," Steve nods.

"Even Y/N?" Loki looks over at you.

"Yes, not that it matters unless you can figure out how to get her to talk again," Steve answers.

A smirk creeps across Loki's lips and you take a step towards him. "I can't believe that worked," you tell him.

"I told you it would work," Loki responds proudly.

(This morning)

"Ah brother, what a pleasant surprise," Loki smiles when he opens the door to a very confused looking Thor.

"Um... it is?" Thor asks, immediately feeling concerned by the God of Mischief's greeting.

"Of course," he opens the door wider and gestures inside the apartment. "Won't you join Y/N and me for a moment?"

"Okay..." Thor shrugs as he enters Loki's apartment. "Wait, Y/N is still here?"

"Morning Thor," you wave at him from the couch. He looks from you back to his brother and you don't miss the smirk of approval he gives Loki. You push aside the awkward feeling that Thor assumes you've slept with his brother and ask him to sit.

"I would prefer to stand, if you don't mind," Thor refuses your suggestion politely. "I sense my brother is playing some game with me and I am not willing to relax quite yet."

Loki smirks, "You are finally becoming more perceptive, but you are not the intended victim this time."

"I'm not?" Thor asks, his shock obvious in both his voice and his expression.

You try not to laugh, knowing he probably walked in here expecting the worst. "We need your help to pull off our plan actually," you tell him.

"I would love to help you, Y/N," he replies then he looks at Loki, "But I am not sure I want to help him."

"That hurts brother," Loki's smirk doesn't fade. "Would it change your mind if we offered a trade for your assistance?"

"I'm listening," Thor answers cautiously.

"I know where your wallet is," you tell Thor.

"I believe you have something of mine," Thor holds his hand out towards his younger brother. Loki nods and with a flick of his wrist, the missing wallet appears in a flash of green in Thor's open palm. The older Asgardian frowns, "Where is my money?"

"The deal was for me to return your wallet," Loki grins. "Which I have. You did not specify that you wished to have your money returned as well."

"I assumed that would have been obvious," Thor groans and tucks his empty wallet safely away.

"Wait... so the three of you planned this whole thing just to get Y/N out of being charged for swearing?" Steve asks, placing his hands on his hips in annoyance.

"Midgardians have a saying about making assumptions, I believe," Loki says and you roll your eyes at him. He chuckles and adds, "Consider it a charitable contribution to Y/N's swearing fund."

"Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me," Tony says, throwing his hands in the air.

"I only wanted my property returned to me," Thor insists, holding his hands up and taking a step away from you and Loki to avoid any blame.

"And what's your excuse, Laufeyson?" Steve turns his attention to the God of Mischief.

"Do I need one?" Loki doesn't seem phased by Steve and Tony's disapproving looks.

"You know you are not permitted to use your magic on any member of SHIELD or Stark Industries," the captain reminds him of the rules. "This was reckless and-"

"He was just trying to help me out," you cut off Steve and offer a defense for Loki which only brings everyone's focus back to you.

"By using his magic to trick us into overriding a SHIELD policy?" Steve asks you.

"Yeah..." you fidget with your fingers nervously. Loki might have been prepared to face the wrath of the team as calmly as ever but you hadn't thought this part of the plan all the way through. You had been focused on having the swearing policy reversed and not much else.

"Y/N," Tony says your name and you can hear the disappointment in his tone. He folds his arms across his chest. You recognize his expression, it means he is getting ready to deliver a long speech about how he expects better from you.

"I... well..." you stumble over your words then makes eye contact with Loki for a brief moment. He looks towards the door and back at you, signaling that it is time to go. "Well, this was a lot of fun but I've got shit to do... somewhere else."

You barely register that J.A.R.V.I.S is still quiet as the two of you quickly move towards the exit. Loki pushes open the door, ignoring Steve and Tony telling you they are not done with either of you yet. He laughs when the sound of their voices is cut off by the door closing and walks with you towards the elevators.

"You played your part excellently," he complements you, pushing the call button. "You are a natural trickster."

"Thanks," you feel yourself blush and look down, hoping he doesn't notice your red cheeks. "You and Thor were pretty good too."

"My brother has his uses," he says. "But do not tell him I said so," he adds quickly, looking at you.

"Oooh, I'm definitely gonna tell him," you laugh.

"Turning you into a frog is still on the table," he says with a wicked grin.

"I think you would hate that more than I would," you smile back and he furrows his brows in confusion. "I'd just hop along after you all day and sit on your pillow, ribbiting in your ear while you tried to sleep. You would turn me into a human again in no time," you snap your fingers.

He laughs at your response and shakes his head, "It seems I need to find a new way to threaten you, hmm?"

"Yeah... or you could just be nicer to me," you shrug.

"I'll think about it," he smirks.

"Don't try to act like I'm not your best friend after last night," you say sarcastically.

The doors to the elevator finally open. You step inside first and select the floor your office is on. Loki doesn't move to select the floor his office, apartment or training room are on and you realize he is following you.

"That reminds me... your question from earlier this morning," he says when the doors close. You turn to face him, remembering when you asked if you were friends now or something you hadn't defined yet. "I do not wish to be your friend," he informs you and you look at your shoes before you have a chance to read his expression.

"Oh... Okay, yeah, that's fine," you feel your heart sink in your chest. You knew you shouldn't have gotten your hopes up that Loki would still want to be around you. He had done what he promised and aggravated the whole team in the process, that was good enough for him.

"I would very much like to take you on a date though," he says and you look up, seeing him smile at you.

"Wait, really?" you ask, sounding more surprised than excited.

He clears his throat, looking unsure of himself and asks, "Would that be something you are interested in?"

You smile and nod, his smile returning quickly, "Yeah, absolutely." You laugh when he relaxes and add, "But we need to work on how you phrase stuff cause it sounded like you were tired of being around me, not that you were going to ask me on a fucking-"

"Y/N, seventy five cents has been deducted from your upcoming paycheck as you are in violation of SHIELD's Inappropriate Language Policy, per Captain Rogers' orders," J.A.R.V.I.S. announces from a speaker in the elevator.

You look at the holographic screen that appears in stunned silence, the rest of your sentence lost. Loki chuckles and says, "It seems they not only reinstated your punishment but raised the rate per word."

"I can't believe this..." you shake your head in disbelief. "Ugh! This is fucking-" you feel a rant of swear words getting ready to be unleashed.

Loki's arm wraps around your waist and he pulls your chest flush to his, the swift action shocking you into silence. He smiles at you, cupping your cheek gently, still holding you close with his other hand on your waist. "I have thought of one more trick to help you," he says, his lips coming closer to yours.

You giggle nervously, "If you say anything about frogs..."

He laughs and shakes his head then clears his throat. "J.A.R.V.I.S, disregard SHIELD's Inappropriate Language Policy," Loki repeats Steve's order in the captain's voice and J.A.R.V.I.S confirms the command. In his own voice he says, "I am not sure how long it will take them to notice so you might want to get in all the swear words you can now."

"I knew you liked me," you smile up at him, his arm still holding you close to his chest.

"I tried very hard not to," he says, his fingers running gently down your cheek to your chin. He tilts your head slightly up and brings his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. You grip the fabric on the back of his shirt when he takes a step forward, pressing your back to the wall of the elevator.

The elevator stops much too soon and Loki smiles down at you when he breaks the kiss. As the doors open, you sigh and rest your head on Loki's chest, "I can't wait until Steve and Tony find me."

"Tell them to come speak to me," Loki runs his fingers through your hair.

You laugh, looking up at him, "Why, so you can turn them into frogs?"

"Would it make you feel better?" he asks as you walk out of the elevator together.

"A little," you tell him with a shrug and he grins mischievously.

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[itsmearia01]

Imagine being Claude's fiancee. Seeing him fall in love with someone else (Diana) and ran away when you know that Diana is pregnant. He marry her, didn't even think about you at all. Just Diana, all Diana. You become an alchemist and a great witch, you have friend, Lucas, who often talk with you with magic device. You don't know who he is, you know just him as 'asshole but cute wizard,' slowly in love with him and sounds that he into you too. It happens trought years. One day, Lucas said he want to meet you, he want you to go to the princess's debudante.

You know about her, athanasia or athy. Of course, how can't you? She's the daughter of your Ex-fiancee and Diana. So you come, with disguise, you change your appearence (welp- it's just colour of your hair and eyes) and you go there. You watching the Princess and Claude dance, and in the middle of it, you can hear telepati from Lucas.

"Come meet me at the garden," he said.

you're so excited, you finally met him, he blushed so much when he saw you (and the fact that he finally have you for his own can be with you, he knew you back when you were still living in the palace as Claude's fiancé. But you never even knew his existence. Basically he's obsessed with you.)

"it's been awhile... It's been a long time, I've always loved you but you never glanced at me, didn't even know that I existed"

you're confuse, "w-wait, what-"

"Y-YOU!" someone shouted from behind you, a very familiar voice… you looked at Lucas scared. you and he know exactly who it is…

You turned around and looked at him, very scared. its him, your ex fiancé.

He pulled you from Lucas' arms and hugged you, you tried to escape from him and looked at Lucas in fear, trying to ask for help. But I was even more afraid when Lucas said… "I'm sorry, this is the only way to have you always near me, forever."

"Please don't leave me again.... i'm so sorry, i'm sorry"

you cried, especially when claude talked about how he missed you and apologized, when claude managed to kiss your lips… your vision went dark, you fainted because of lucas' spell.

it seems like you forgot that even though lucas is cute, he's still a powerful jerk who can cast a spell on you.

this inspired by @cassanderasblog wmmap series tho.

[xhoneygirlxx]

he's not magic

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: the time of the month has come and Eddie is the only person who can sooth you.

warnings: talks about menstrual cycles/blood. mentions of dying. tooth rotting fluff. Eddie is a cutie pie. pet names used; sweetheart, baby, honey. shitty writing/spelling errors; if you find any plz ignore it lolololololol.

a/n: i'm currently in so much pain from my period and the only thing i want is for someone to coddle me and tell me i'm going to be ok. i hope you guys enjoy this very small thing, it's not much and it's not good but maybe it'll help you feel good on those days when life is shit. love you all <3

--

You're dying, a slow, painful, and mournful death. At this point you stopped caring, stopping all the begging you've done all morning for your life to continue. If this was how you were going out than so be it, you just wished your end had come faster.

You've already bled through two pairs of panties and two pairs of shorts, now left in your trusty period panties and an oversized shirt. Your stomach was bloated to the point it was uncomfortable, your breasts were so swollen that your chest felt like it was going to concave under the weight, and your back felt as if it was going to snap in half at any moment.

It felt like you tried everything, ibuprofen, heating pad, and propping a pillow in between your legs - none of the tricks worked. Now you were left in the fetal position, arms wrapped around your middle and knees pulled to your chest.

For the past how ever many hours you've been moaning out in pain, the stabbing feeling in your uterus just too much to handle. You're sure if someone were to walk in and see you they'd think you were insane and right now you couldn't blame them.

You did look insane, hair wild and matted to your face from all the sweat you've accumulated, voice hoarse and scratchy from all the wounded animal sounds you've made, and your face screwed up in an unflattering way.

Your phone has gone unanswered all day, the only person to have texted you was Eddie. At first it was only tik toks, small comments he thought would make you giggle, and then it turned into him updating you about his day at work, and finally worried questions about if you were okay.

You felt so fucking guilty for not responding, not telling him that you were fine but you just physically couldn't move from your crouched position. This only made you angrier, the fact that your temporarily paralyzed and are restricted from doing the things you need to do.

The fridge sits empty and in need of new groceries, laundry stays piled up by the washer where they wait to be cleaned, and Eddie is waiting for your response worrying about your well being - that is if he hasn't already contacted the national guard to track your location.

Everything is so shitty, the pain, the hurting, the guilt, the frustration. You feel like you're a balloon that's been filled up too much and is waiting to burst at the seams.

You don't have to take long before the heated tears from your eyes fall down, hitting the bridge of your nose, only to land on the pillow beneath your head. It's not a violent cry, at least not yet, just frustrated tears that seem to slip away from their barricade.

You don't even notice the front door of your apartment opening or the sound of Eddie calling for your name, only focusing on the pulsating of your uterus that debilitates your body.

"Fuck, baby I've been worried about you," You don't even turn and look at him, your eyes are still harshly closed. By the sound of his voice you know he's out of breath, brown curls probably wild from the speed of his running.

"Shit, sweetheart, are you okay?" The worry in his voice hits right on the spiderweb crack, shattering you into a million little pieces.

You can't hold it back, the wailing that rips from your throat is something close to bone chilling. Tears streams from your eyes without relent, whole body shaking from the cries that rip from your body.

It doesn't take more than thirty seconds to feel the bed dip as your boyfriend crawls into bed next to you. He doesn't think twice before pulling you in, one arm wrapped around your back and the other soothing down your hair on the side of your head.

"It's okay, baby. M'here, you're okay." Eddie coos and it's like music to your ears.

The warmth from his body fills you in a way your heating pad couldn't. Even with the mucus that fills your nose you catch a whiff of his scent, smoke, pine, and outside -undoubtedly him. His calloused hand runs soothingly up and down your back, allowing your bones to relax into his touch.

Eddie doesn't have to ask, he knows you better than you know yourself, and the way your scrunched up on your bed and crying he knows that you've been battling your pain all day.

"Sweetheart, you have to breath. Can you do that for me? Take one big deep breath, s'all I want, okay?"

You nod your head against his chest, following the way his chest moves as he demonstrates for you. Between hiccupped breaths and streaming tears, you allow your lungs to fill up with as much air as you can take in, releasing it right after in one long exhale.

"Good job, baby. Did such a good job f'me." Eddie's being soft with you, a side of him he only allows you to see and no one else.

You let his praise melt over you, soaking it right up like the plants in a drought. For the first time since you woke up you feel lighter, something you only feel when Eddie's by you. The cramps that have been going nonstop have finally subsided, the presence of your boyfriend scaring them away.

"It hurt so bad, Eds. S'really bad today." Your voice is shaky, as if one wrong move and you can break out into another sob.

"I know, honey, but it's okay. I'm gonna take care of you, kay? I'm gonna make it all better."

You both know that he has no control over what your body decides to do but just the promise alone has your worries easing away. Your body relaxes into him, your knees slowly falling down to their normal position until your laying right up against him.

"On a scale from one to ten, where are you at?" You take a moment to think about it, really evaluating the squeezing of your organs.

"Was a ten but now it's like a seven."

Eddie hums, his hand still soothing up and down your back. A small pause settles over his words, like he's trying to wrack his brain for the next action he's going to make so you can feel better.

"How 'bout you get some rest, then when you get up we'll get you something to eat? Sound okay?" You nod again, too tired to form any sort of response.

Eddie acknowledges your response with a kiss to the top of your head, making you hum in content when he does. It doesn't take long for the tiredness of your body to settle over you, quiet snores coming from your nose in no time.

Even if his arms fall asleep and his back feels stiff, Eddie stays there with you, soothing you in your sleep to ensure that your pain stays at bay. When you do wake up he's right there, waiting for you with some water and more medicine before helping you into the shower.

He's not magic and he has no idea what to do when it comes to woman's health but Eddie Munson will be damned if a period makes his girl cry like that again.

---

[lilacs-stars]

shattered reflections

pairing: morgie le fay x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is merlin's daughter) SUMMARY: you, the perfect child and student, have always been the epitome of righteousness. but what happens when you encounter a particularly annoying VK one night, when you're out doing something you're not supposed to? GENRE: pure, unbridled, heart-wrenching angst (I recommend a box of tissues), action scenes, some light humor, a bit of comfort, flirty banter CW: absent mother, neglectful father, family troubles, cursing, magical fighting, a bit of blood, threats, mentions of violence and stealing, heavy emotions WC: 15.2k (to those of you hungry for morgie fics…you have been fed) BACKGROUND: the mirror of ytirev is pronounced yih-tur-ev, the spells are all in latin (for anyone wondering)

A/N: this got a loooot longer and deeper than I thought it would...seriously how did we get here. I had fun adding some touches of light humor to offset the angst, and experimenting with different pov's was nice too. sooo go get comfy and settle down, and have fun reading this! (the ending is worth it I swear). thank you to the anon who requested this for all the details, I hope you enjoy! all feedback is highly appreciated, I'd love to know your thoughts and reactions!

A piercing clatter sounds from somewhere behind you. You whip around, eyes locking with snake-like slits glowing in the dark.

Shit, you think. 

They finally discovered my secret.

“…can anyone explain to me the properties of goblin mucus?” the teacher of your Magical Artifacts and Antiquities class asks.

A hand shoots up, causing a smile to spread on her face as she calls on the student—only to be met with the reply, “Miss, it says in our textbook that there’s a highly powerful and dangerous artifact stored here, in Merlin Academy. What’s that all about?”

The teacher’s smile falters for a brief second, but she answers the question regardless. “Yes, every class today has asked me about that. It seems like it’s only the dangerous objects that attract students’ attention. Class, turn to page two hundred seventy-five, where there is a more detailed explanation.”

Everyone flips through the pages of their books, more eager to learn than they’ve been for the entire lesson. Your teacher waits a moment before continuing.

“As it says in your textbooks, the Mirror of Ytirev is indeed kept in this school, although it is locked away in a very safe and secure place. For everyone’s safety, and the Mirror’s security. Now, can anyone tell me how it was created?”

You raise your hand swiftly, already knowing the answer from having read this chapter before it was even covered in class, along with the next three chapters. “After the creator of the Evil Queen’s magic mirror originally made it, he accidentally dropped it on the floor, causing it to shatter. He reconstructed the mirror using the larger shards, which became the famed mirror that eventually ended up in the hands of the Evil Queen. But there were still many miniscule fragments left from the first mirror, so he melted them again and made a smaller, weaker version of the Evil Queen's mirror. The small mirror is known today as the Mirror of Ytirev.” 

Your teacher beams again at your perfect recitation. “That is precisely correct, Y/N. Although I don’t expect anything less from the headmaster’s daughter, of course.

“This mirror has the ability to show its user exactly one truth, an answer to any question. But since its original form was shattered, its magic is no longer stable. That’s why it is covered in this chapter,” she continues to the class. “As you can see in the image in your textbook, it is a portable artifact, putting it in Category D, Type Three.”

You look down at your textbook, studying the picture of the mirror, despite having looked at it before. It depicts a vintage handheld mirror, encased in a detailed and ornate silver frame that surrounds the glass itself. The intricate carvings of the metal create symmetrical twin arches at the top of the mirror, ending in fancy loops. In these arches two bright red gemstones are set, their edges cleanly cut and shining brilliantly. The glass of the mirror looks almost cracked, although you know it isn't really.

Just as the thought passes through your mind, someone calls out, “Why is the mirror cracked? I thought the creator fixed it.”

The answer pops up in your brain before the teacher even opens her mouth, but you still patiently listen to her as she explains to the rest of the class. “It’s not really cracked, it just appears that way to anyone who looks at it. The only time someone can see the mirror’s smooth surface is if they’re staring directly in the eyes of their own reflection. When someone does this, it is rumored they will see the truest form of themselves, the truth they desire the most.”

Someone else raises their hand, and the teacher calls on them this time. “So,” they ask, “you can get the answer to anything from that? Like how to become rich or live forever?”

The teacher masks what you can tell is a rather displeased look with yet another—fake—smile. She turns to face the entire class, a telltale sign that the student said something wrong. “Now, as we all know, there’s always a price to magic. When it comes to this mirror, due to its unstable powers, there are many prices.”

She continues her lecture, one that provides you with absolutely no new information, but being the ever-diligent student you are, you continue to listen intently. “If you look at the next page, it explains that anyone who wishes to use the Mirror must first present an offering that is very dear to them. If the Mirror accepts the offering, it allows the person to ask their question.” “And if it doesn’t?” your classmate asked.

“Does anyone know the answer to that?” The teacher looks around the class, before her eyes land on you. “Y/N?”

You brighten up at being called on, before rattling off the information as if it was common knowledge. “If the Mirror doesn’t accept the offering, or if it becomes displeased for any other reason, it will drag the person’s soul not to enlightenment, but to eternal torment. They will end up losing their mind and going crazy, with any form of intelligent life getting absorbed by the Mirror.”

“Correct again,” your teacher praises, and you beam. “And if that's not enough to ward any of you off, keep in mind that everyone who has ever used the Mirror has gone completely mad. No one has ever obtained the answer they sought; instead, they were all lost to its evil spirit. And let me assure you, many people throughout history have attempted to use the Mirror, only to fail. Therefore, it was voted as too dangerous for any beneficial uses by the Department of Magical Security. That is why it is contained here, under the watchful eye of our very own Headmaster Merlin.” 

At the mention of your father, everyone turns to stare at you, as if you’re somehow the reason the Mirror is locked up. Despite the stifling moment of silence, you shrug off the unwanted attention. After all, you’re used to this. Used to the looks that other kids give you when you receive special attention from teachers for being the smartest one, for always raising your hand, for answering questions perfectly, for acing every test and having every homework assignment completed—yet refusing to share your answers (“But if I tell you the answers, how will you ever learn?”). 

Used to the whispers that follow you everywhere you go, rumors of your family life; how your mother must have left because of your father’s bad habits, or neglect, or because she was having an affair with another man. Constant reminders of the past.

Used to how everyone walks on eggshells around you, how they all put you on a ledge far away from them. How people’s conversations quiet as you pass by, afraid you’ll go and report them to your father at the slightest whiff of mischief. How they always eye you when they pass notes in class or plan a prank—as if you weren't already aware of what they were doing—sometimes even begging you not to tell on them.

Used to how teachers and adults in your life expect the absolute best of you. Even when there’s no more left of yourself to give. 

How they expect you to be the absolute best, a paragon of righteousness. You always have to determine the right decision, make the right call, be the epitome of morality and virtue. This is your burden to bear, all by yourself; instead of worries over bad grades or boys, you suffer under the crushing weight of the expectations of everyone around you. The expectations of society.

Briiiiiiingg! The sound of the bell marking the end of class snaps you out of your musings. “Um, Miss?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the sounds of everyone packing their bags.

“You didn’t tell us what our homework assignment is for tonight.”

“Oh, that’s right! Thank you for reminding me, Y/N,” the teacher exclaims amidst a chorus of groans, along with a few colorful words directed your way. “Everyone, please finish up chapter three and be prepared to turn in your report on seventh century runes by the start of tomorrow’s class.”

After all, you’re used to how right they are about you.

…Or so they think.

“Oh good, Y/N! I was looking for you all over, you know,” a panting, all-too familiar voice calls out from behind you. You freeze in your tracks, grimacing. After a deep breath, you paint a smile on your face, before turning around.

A tall man, although much shorter due to his slouched posture, hurries towards you animatedly. His short, dark brown hair is matted against the top of his head, and a thick, bushy beard trails down from his chin, rounding above his mouth in a matching mustache. He dons a pair of thin spectacles that hang low on his large nose, dressed in a dark blue robe with faint golden embroidery and a waistcoat to match. A little brown stick juts out from a hidden pocket inside his robe, an object you can only assume to be his wand—which you are quite shocked he hadn’t lost today yet.

“Dad!” you say as enthusiastically as you can muster, but if anyone had been looking closely, they would have seen the way you ever so slightly cringe as he stumbles towards you. You silently thank the heavens that this man doesn’t pay much attention to anything. Not even to his own family.

Merlin clambers towards you, gripping one of your shoulders once you’re within arm’s length. He pants, leaning his weight on you as he catches his breath.

“Dad, what is it?” you ask him, trying your best not to fall over from supporting him.

“I-I…k-keys,” he wheezes.

“You lost your keys?” This certainly isn't the first time he’s come to you with this problem, and you definitely won't bet it'll be his last.

He nods, clutching his chest as his breathing finally evens out. “Phew,” he says, letting go of your shoulder. “My spare keys to my office…I can’t seem to find where I’ve put them.”

“You mean that big ring that has a copy of about every single key needed to unlock absolutely anything in this school?” you ask, incredulous at the way he nods feverishly. Honestly, how he doesn’t see the issue with what you just plainly pointed out is beyond you.

“Nope, haven’t seen them,” you reply. “Have you checked under the counter? Inside your desk drawers? In the little pockets sewn in the other pockets in all of your robes? On top of a clothing rack? Under the vase of orchids? In the fish bowl? In the left sock from your pair that has those reindeers on them?”

He nods at each one, sometimes hesitating as if recalling something deep in his memory , but then continuing to fervently nod nonetheless. You sigh again. “Well, I don’t know then. I suppose you’ve found someplace new to hide them this time.”

“Hmm…” he mutters, scratching his beard.

“Well, Dad, I don’t know if you heard, but I, uh, I made top student of my year last quarter. For the fifth consecutive time,” you mention, trying to ease into the conversation, albeit very tentatively and with great unease. Most people’s parents would applaud them and give them a prize for merely getting an A. Yours, on the other hand, barely remembers which grade you’re in.

Your father snaps his head up, staring at you with an eccentric haze in his eyes. You feel a small glimmer of hope; maybe he’s going to give you a pat on the back this time, or perhaps offer to take you out for a celebratory dinner. You wait for his response, completely still as if frozen in time, anticipation buzzing throughout every nerve.

“Wait…I believe I put it in the mouth of that owl statue…” He freezes erratically, brow furrowed in deep concentration, before releasing the tension in his body and going back to slumping. “No, I think I already checked there.”

You take a nice, long, deep breath, using up every last ounce of your carefully practiced self-control, which you had perfected through years of deploying in stifling social situations that made you want to crawl out of your own skin, to remain calm in this moment. “Well, I hope you find it.” Giving him one last attempt at even a semblance of a smile, you sharply turn back around on your heel, continuing down the hall to your first class of the day.

Watching the early morning rays of sunshine through the tall windows of the corridor, you think back to the discussion you had yesterday in your Artifacts class. You had answered every question correctly, every fact written in ink not only committed to memory but etched into the very foundation of your brain. 

You wonder if he knows of all the hard work you put into school. All the grueling hours you spend studying, all the sleepless nights you spend fighting against your body’s very nature to stay awake and keep your eyes open just enough to read the page. Heck, you wonder if he even remembers that your birthday is coming up next month—or that you gave him your wish list ages ago to ensure that he gets at least one present you asked for, unlike other years.

No, of course he doesn’t remember, you remind yourself. He doesn’t care about me. He never did.

Just like he didn’t care about Mom when she disappeared.

“Ugh, my nail chipped again. I should find the girl who did these and squeeze her to death.”

A tentacle floating in midair tightens and coils around nothingness, miming the strangulation of an innocent soul with a disturbing nonchalance. A girl with dark skin and long locks in colors such as blue, teal, and yellow, done up in a small bunch on top of her head, checks the painted nails on her left hand with a scowl on her face. 

“Come on, Uli, you’re getting your nails done like, every week,” the god of the Underworld replies, indifference practically seeping through his spiked leather jacket as he chews gum and gives the sea witch a look. “At least find yourself someone better.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Uliana snaps, dropping her hand exasperatedly as she huffs.

A sorceress with purple eyeshadow and two sleek, black horns protruding from the sides of her head rolls her eyes as she complains, “This is so boring.” 

“Well, what do you suggest we do then, love?” a crisply accented voice asks, sounding from a boy with neatly parted brown hair and a golden hook that ends in a sharp, gleaming point.

“Did you hear that there’s a, like, super dangerous magical object being kept here?” Maleficent asks, somehow keeping her voice incredibly monotonous and deathly uninterested, even as her words themselves convey enthusiasm. 

“Yeah, apparently it can tell anyone anything they want to know,” Hades replies. “I don’t know why they’re keeping it here, though.”

Uliana turns back to the group, a malicious glint in her eye. Even before she opens her mouth, the boy with powers rather similar to those of a snake can already guess what she’s going to say.

“How about we go steal it?” she asks, a wicked grin already twisting onto her features.

“You do realize that everyone who’s ever used it has gone mad, right?” Hook asks, raising his eyebrows incredulously as he gives Uliana a look of disbelief.

“We won’t use it ourselves, idiot,” she snaps. “But it’ll be fun to steal it and cause a panic. Right, Morgie?”

Morgie swallows, looking up at Uliana with wide eyes. “Of course! C’mon, you guys. Think of the mischief we can cause with it! We can make people think some kids used it and went crazy”—he leans in, excitement growing as he speaks, making wide gestures with his hands—“and everyone would be so scared! They’d probably cancel school, too!”

Uliana grins diabolically again. “Morgie, honey,” she starts, slipping one of her tentacles under his chin, lifting his face up towards her. “How about you do this one?”

“I-I, uh…” he stammers, uncertainty laced in his voice. He definitely wasn't expecting this turn of events.

“Come on, please,” Uliana pouts. “Do it for me? After all, you’re only stealing a little mirror. How hard can that be?”

Morgie glances up at her again, before tugging uncomfortably on the black scarf wrapped around his neck. “But…it’s super dangerous…”

“Don’t you want to be evil? Don't you want to wreak havoc and cause pain?” Uliana taunts. “Or, are you”—she lets out a faux gasp—“afraid?”

“N-no, not at all!" Morgie exclaims, trying to sound more courageous than he feels. “I’ll do it!”

“Perfect,” the sea witch coos, removing her tentacle arm. “You’ll do it tonight.” She turns back to the group, adding, “I hear that old troll keeps the most dangerous and evil artifacts locked up in a room off the east wing, on the third level.”

Morgie gulps, already trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’d be doing the heist tonight. Hook, jumping off a ledge, asks, “You mean the one guarded by different spells and magical alarms?”

Uliana grins wickedly. “Nothing a little bit of Kraken Powder can’t fix.” She holds up a small vial hanging from a string around her neck like a necklace. It's common knowledge how incredibly rare Kraken Powder is, which makes sense, given how potent its anti-magic properties are.

Everyone catches on to what Uliana's implying, causing the group to all laugh together at their evil plan. Morgie tries his best to join along, but he can’t quite seem to get rid of the uneasy knot already forming in the pit of his stomach.

“You remember the plan?”

Uliana’s slippery tentacles glisten under the moonlight, flailing around behind her in midair. Morgie nods, attempting to still his quivering hands before Uliana notices them. He tries, with a miserable sense of impending doom, to swallow the lump in his throat, but to no avail.

“Here, I stole these from Merlin’s office,” Uliana explains as one of her tentacles drops a large ring filled with probably around two dozen keys, each in various shapes and colors, straight into Morgie's open palm. “One of these has to fit the door. You didn’t forget what you need to do, right?”

Morgie clears his throat, choking out a meager, “Yep.” He pockets the keys, seriously hoping they don’t clink together and make too much noise while he moves. As Uliana already repeated a hundred times, “It’s crucial you don’t get caught.”

Morgie reaches up to touch the vial hanging from his neck yet again, making sure it’s still there—after all, better safe than sorry. Once more, he glances at the large grandfather clock in the common area where he and Uliana lurk in the shadows, waiting. Finally, its bells chime midnight, and Uliana turns back to him as the ringing reverberates around them.

“Go, hurry!” the sea witch urges, pushing him toward the door with a tentacle. 

Morgie nods, hurriedly rushing to the exit. The first part of the plan—a plan he so diligently committed to memory—is for him to sneak out while the bells are still ringing, to mask the sound of the door opening and closing. Thankfully, he makes it out by the tenth chime, carefully closing the door to make sure the latch doesn’t sound by the eleventh.

Okay, I’m really doing this, Morgie thinks as he stares into the deserted corridor. He tiptoes around silently, but still as quickly as possible. Time is, obviously, of utmost importance in missions like this.

At last, he reaches his destination. The unassuming—and misleadingly so—wooden door looms over him, ominous through the lens of his knowledge of what lies beyond it. 

An amateur villain would simply pick the lock and open the door, but Morgie is too experienced in such endeavors to make a rookie mistake like that (Uliana told him what to do, step-by-step).

He hovers his hand above the lock, taking a steadying breath as he summons the powers that reside within him. His pupils shrink into the tiniest slivers of blackness as a dark, magical smoke emits from his palm. He makes a faint hissing noise, reciting an old incantation in a tongue far different from what normal humans use, and the lock softly clicks as the door creaks open. Practically inviting him inside.

Morgie pushes it open the rest of the way, making sure to shut it behind him so as to not raise the suspicion of any night guards roaming the halls.

He turns back around, now faced with a dark, menacing hallway. Walking slowly down it, he looks around with a chilling captivation. Old suits of armor leer down at him, rustic and each coated with a thick layer of dust. Large spiderwebs cover every visible nook and cranny, which makes Morgie exceedingly grateful that the actual spiders aren't in his line of sight.

At the end of the corridor stands yet another large door, matching the first. This one, according to Uliana, has even more security than the other. Time to use my secret weapon, Morgie thinks, reaching to pull the vial of Kraken Powder out from under his shirt. He opens the cap and sprinkles a little of the finely grained dust into his palm, then blows it over the lock of the door.

At first glance, it appears the powder didn’t work, as nothing seem to change. But anyone with an affinity for magical energy can feel the spells placed on the lock of the door melt away without a trace. After the door is unarmed, Morgie fishes in his pocket for the keys. They clang horribly as he pulls them out, echoing up into the tall ceiling of the hallway. He freezes, listening intently for footsteps somewhere outside. When he hears none, Morgie begins the task of figuring out which key fits the lock.

He goes through nearly half the ring (Seriously, who keeps all their keys in one place?) before finding the one that fits perfectly. Twisting it with a swift movement, the door unlocks, and he creeps inside. 

To his immense shock, there isn't a room behind the door filled with evil objects or piled with gold coins. Instead, there’s a…

…library?

Morgie walks inside, utterly confused. Had Uliana gotten the location wrong? No, there's no way. The doors were too guarded for a normal library.

He continues down one of the aisles, wondering why he's never seen this place before. It is extremely large, with arched ceilings meters and meters above his head. Tall bookshelves tower over him, so tall that he can barely see the highest shelves.

Lined against the walls and placed on the shelves are also glass jars and containers filled with seemingly normal items: a seashell necklace, a deck of playing cards, a cane with the head of a snake. But there's something sinister about them; some strange aura that hovers above each object. In fact, it fills the entire expanse of the library. 

Morgie stops by one of the shelves, reading the titles. He brushes his fingers along one of the spines—and that’s when he feels it. An ominous energy rushes through his fingertips, electrifying his every nerve at it travels through him, causing him to realize that this is no normal book. It’s a book of dark magic.

He spins around in a circle, eyeing the entirety of the library. Now that he thinks about it, the whole place has the heavy atmosphere of dark magic. And that’s when it hits him: this is no normal library, and neither are the books. This is the room of forbidden artifacts. It just so happens that most of those artifacts are books, probably containing content deemed too dangerous for normal people to learn.

Morgie briefly considers taking a few of the books off the shelves and perusing through them, or maybe even slipping a couple in his jacket and taking them back with him. After all, all these forbidden books must have countless evil spells and potions. If he and the rest of his group got their hands on these…

However, after a moment of serious consideration, he decides the better of it. He's here for another purpose, and Uliana would be outraged if he only came back with a few meager books, no matter the contents.

Continuing through the labyrinth of shelves, Morgie looks around meticulously, trying to figure out a rhyme or reason to the order of things. No student has ever been in here, and he doubts many of the teachers have, either. Therefore, there were no references or guides to help him and his friends figure out where in the room the Mirror is located. Plus, he doesn’t think any of them had expected the place to be so colossal—he surely hadn't.

After a few minutes of stumbling around in the near darkness, he finally comes across a ladder leaning against one of the shelves. It’s so tall he can’t see the top of it, but deciding it’s his best chance at finding his bearings, Morgie begins the long climb up.

He isn’t really afraid of heights. Not in the way that some people refuse to go on anything more than a few feet off the ground. But he honestly doesn’t see how anyone couldn’t feel at least a little queasy at the high altitude. I must be a dozen meters off the ground, Morgie realizes as he glances down. I wonder what would happen if I fell—

He cuts the thought off before he can imagine the gruesome details. Instead, he looks back up and around the library. From all the way up here, he can see the top of the shelves, and he really was right: this place was designed to be a maze.

On the far side of the area, his eyes spot lots of glass cases reflecting the soft moonlight and flames of enchanted candles. That must be where most of the objects are kept. Chances are, the Mirror’s there too.

He mentally charts out a course through the labyrinth, trying to remember the directions for more than two seconds. Right, left, left again, forward, right, right again, left, forward—or wait, was it right? After a few minutes, he climbs back down the ladder, praying to the demons of the Underworld that he remembers the path correctly and doesn’t get lost.

Morgie makes his way through the maze, growing more and more fascinated by the creepy and wonderful objects around him. He can’t stop thinking about how nice—and useful—it would be to pocket some of them, or maybe come back here and spend more time studying them. Every time he passes by something that intrigues him, his mind immediately wonders if it would fit inside his clothes.

Despite this, he resists the urge to steal things, as he can’t have anything weighing him down in case there are more challenges or enchantments he has to disarm before getting the Mirror. But perhaps on the way back…

His train of thought drifts away as he finally reaches a large area that is surrounded by glass cases, on tables and lining the shelves set into the walls. He never imagined there would be so many forbidden artifacts in total, much less in one place, although maybe that's because he's never really paid attention in class.

From the top of a shelf a few meters away, something catches his eye. A mysterious, eerie white fog pours from one of the highest shelves, dissipating as it cascades down the front of the bookcase. He remembers hearing something about mist related to the Mirror, and deciding it’s worth a shot, he moves closer to check it out.

And that’s when he sees it.

A dark flurry of movement from another one of the top shelves catches his attention. Morgie snaps his head up, brows furrowing as he squints, eyes trailing the structures above him. But he can’t quite make out anything, at least not in the faint light, so he hesitantly shrugs it off and continues towards the mysterious fog—albeit not being able to shake off the strange feeling he has that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He takes a few more steps, and just as he's nearly convinced himself he’s only being paranoid, it happens again. Now that he’s closer, he can see there’s another tall ladder reaching up to around where the movement is happening, close to the Mirror. This time, his eyes register the shape. 

A dark, human figure moves up the ladder, blending in and out of the shadows. 

Morgie’s eyes grow wide, pupils shrinking back into snake-like slits as a reptilian hiss escapes his mouth. There shouldn't be anyone else here.

The figure freezes in place before turning around to face him, hanging halfway up the ladder. Although Morgie can’t see their face, concealed by a thick black hood, he can tell they saw him. 

He stretches out his arms, summoning black magic that swirls around his hands and up to his elbows again. After but a second of him and the hooded figure staring at each other—which somehow felt like an hour—Morgie throws his arm forward, aimed for the figure.

A ball of twisting dark energy shoots from his hand and towards the hooded face. The figure ducks down, dodging the attack. Undeterred, Morgie hurls more swirls of dark magic. The figure dodges the first few of them, but they must have realized that merely ducking down won't be enough to win this fight, because they summon a shield of buzzing yellow electricity to block the next few attacks.

Morgie quickly becomes aware that he isn’t winning the fight like this; he needs a new strategy. And that’s when he spots it.

He puts his hands close together in front of his chest, gathering a potent sphere of black magic between his palms. The figure stands there, motionless, still hanging onto the ladder.

If you can’t knock them down, pull the carpet out from under their feet.

He thrusts both of his hands forward, sending the ball of magic not at the figure, but at the base of the ladder instead. By the time they realize what he's doing, it’s too late.

Morgie’s magic collides with the bottom rungs, exploding the material and sending wooden splinters flying everywhere. He watches as the figure falls, swiftly summoning a flash of lightning below them as they plummet, easing the crash as they hit the ground. 

The aftermath of the explosion has Morgie ducking down and covering his face with his arm, barely being able to make out what happened to the hooded person. As the dust finally settles, Morgie spots the figure get up, gripping their head as if in pain. They stumble a little, then bush off their black robe as they check for other injuries.

As if abruptly remembering why they had fallen, they spin around to face Morgie. He stares, wide-eyed in pure disbelief, as the figure comes face-to-face with him. Even though they don’t seem to be too hurt, and definitely still alive, the force of the impact caused their hood to be knocked off their head.

Morgie’s mouth drops open as he registers the figure’s face.

There, in front of him, in the forbidden archive harboring some of the world's most dangerously powerful magical objects during the dead of night, stands the headmaster’s daughter.

Your grimace grows as you lock eyes with a boy with light brown hair, hazel eyes shrunk into slits resembling a snake’s, causing your head to throb even worse.

You watch as the realization dawns upon the boy’s face, cursing the skies for this little issue that you now have to deal with.

He knows your secret.

“Y-you, you, you’re the headmaster’s daughter,” he sputters out, disbelief still painted on his face, as clear as day. Seriously, if he keeps his jaw open like that, it’ll fall off.

“Yeah, no shit,” you spit back, not paying much attention to his stunned little face. Your mind is overwhelmed with a swirling whirlwind of thoughts and ideas on how to get rid of this new liability, each plan vying for your attention, each one crueler than the last.

After all, now that he knows who you really are, how you're not a rule-abiding goody-goody, there’s no point in keeping up your sweet, innocent facade. You finally let your mask slip off, the mask that you wear constantly in the presence of others. The mask that you only relieve yourself of when you’re all alone, with no one to see your callous, vindictive, cynical side. Your true side.

Ever since that day, at least. The day that forever changed your life.

“What are you doing here?” the boy stammers, as if it isn't already dreadfully obvious.

“The same thing you’re doing here.” “How do you know what I’m doing here?”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. Honestly, this kid could not be more of a dunderhead. “Look, I don’t have time for this. Either get out of my way, or I’ll make you get out of my way.”

At your threat, the boy, whose name you happen to remember from a class you took with him last year, changes his stance. Morgie widens his legs, arms fanned out besides him whilst summoning dark energy that clings to his skin, alive and breathing, yet submissive to its master’s will.

“Aren’t you like, a goody-goody?” he asks, face still scrunched in confusion. “I’ve heard teachers go on and on about how good your grades are, how polite you are, how you’re the perfect student.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed at his relentless questions. It 's already bad enough that he knows this much. You don't need him finding out more.

“Well, looks can be deceiving,” you respond as vaguely as possible, hoping that it’ll shut him up. Instead, he cocks his head to the side, shooting back, “I don’t really think so.”

You try your best to not encourage him and his irritating questions, but you can’t help but begrudgingly ask, “How so?”

Morgie looks at you for a beat with an intent gaze, before replying, “I always thought you were too pretty for a hero.”

Uh, excuse me, what? you think. Now it’s your turn to be shocked. “You don’t find me scary?” You had always assumed that people would be terrified if they saw your real, unfiltered side.

“No, not really. I mean, I’m evil too. If anything, I find you even hotter now that I know you’re not a goody-goody.”

Blinking hard, your eyebrows shoot into the air. There is no way he just said that. Your mind is uncontrollably reeling at his words, but only for a brief moment. Before you can read too deeply into it, your attention is quickly snapped back to the black magic still swirling around him, growing by the second. Ah, a ploy to distract me. Maybe he is more clever than he lets on.

“Listen, Morgie,” you snarl threateningly. “That mirror is mine.”

“Wait, you’re here for the Mirror too?” he asks, with far too light a tone for a situation such as this.

“Th-that was obvious the whole time!” you exclaim, unbelievably irritated. “What did you think I was here for?” “I dunno, a book or something.” He shrugs casually, before narrowing his eyes. “Wait, what do you want the Mirror for?”

“That’s none of your business,” you snap back, fingers thrumming with the rush of energy as you summon your own magic. Letting your curiosity get the better of you yet again, you add, “Why do you want it?”

“I’m a villain. I steal things for fun,” he replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What does a goody-two-shoes hero want to do with a forbidden artifact?”

Barely listening to his words, you study him carefully, needing to know the extent of his powers if you’re going to win the inevitable fight that you can sense coming. You see how his ever-growing dark magic stalls temporarily as he talks, probably from getting distracted while speaking. That’s it. Deciding to buy yourself some time, you use this little weakness to your advantage.

“I want the Mirror because I want to use it.” Even though you’re planning on entertaining his pointless questions, you definitely aren’t going to give him information for free.

“Use it? To get an answer?” His magic hesitates again.

“No, to look at myself.” You see the way his eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you’re pretty sure you’re about to implode. “Of course to get an answer, you dumbass! Unlike you, I don’t go risking my life ‘for fun.’”

“What are you even going to use as an offering? You have to give it something, you know.”

You sigh, reaching underneath your shirt to pull out a small silver locket, its chain blackened from the trials of time. Dangling it from your fingers, you show it to Morgie.

“A locket?” he asks incredulously. “The offering's supposed to be something really special or precious.”

“It is really precious,” you hiss, tucking it back into your shirt. “It’s the most precious thing I own. If anything’s going to make the Mirror work, it’s this.”

“Well, you’re not going to get the Mirror anyways. It’s mine.” He widens his stance again, his magic continuing to grow around him. No, I need a little more time, you think, masking your growing panic with an insouciant eye roll.

“Why?” you question. “You’re not even going to use it.”

“I still need it.” “But why?”

“I won’t tell you if you won’t tell me!” he exclaims. Despite his little outburst, you can tell there’s something he’s hiding. After all, you are a master of concealing the truth yourself. “Plus, you know that everyone who's ever used the mirror has gone crazy, right? You’re literally sentencing yourself to a life of madness.” You give him an unamused look. “I’m the top of our year. Obviously I know everything there is to know about the Mirror of Ytirev.”

He gazes at you in a way you can’t decipher, but it’s softer, more sympathetic than his former glare. You notice that his snake eyes have disappeared as well, despite the magical energy still surrounding him. “Then why are you still doing this, despite the risks?”

You falter, for just a second, letting a sliver of emotion slip through. But as quickly as it happened, you patch it back up, returning to your cold, glowering face. “It’s a price I’m willing to pay.” You expect him to drop it after that, but he continues to press you. “You’re prepared to give up your morals? Your status as a hero? You’re willing to lose all your integrity for one answer?”

God, he talks too much. With a sniff, you throw your hands out in front of you, releasing a bright flash of crackling electricity that had been building up as you cry out, “I don’t care how evil I have to become, I will find the truth, one way or another!”

The lightning shoots forward without warning, hot as an inferno, piercing straight through his chest and flinging him backwards into a shelf like a ragdoll. He falls down to his knees, and for a split second, you wonder if he’s going to get up again. Clutching his chest, he wheezes yet still manages to stand up, summoning wispy black tendrils that shoot at you like arrows.

You tuck and roll, dodging them, whilst building up more crackling lightning between your fingers. The last tendril hits far too close to you for comfort, burning a hole in your robe. That would have been my flesh, had it hit me, you realize in sudden horror.

Seeing as how your opponent is summoning even more dark magic to hit you with, now engulfing his entire body, you break into a sprint. Black spears collide with the shelves behind you one after another, barely missing you, as you run past glass cases, each containing a different artifact that glistens in the silver moonlight. Something across the arena seizes your attention, and a plan begins to piece itself together in your head. You continue your dash towards the shelves behind Morgie. Once you reach a section with books instead of random magical objects, you slow your pace. Amidst Morgie's unrelenting attacks, you create a golden shield of electricity that sparks and crackles, almost alive, and which reaches as tall as you. You jog past the shelves, head craned as you scan the book titles as quickly as possible.

Morgie persists in launching balls of dark magic directly at you, smashing into your shield. Your panic rises as cracks begin to form, at first only small fissures, but growing larger and larger with each sphere that pummels your way.

You run parallel to the shelf, which boxes in the rest of the area in a rectangular shape, eyes frantically darting over words with barely enough time for your brain to comprehend them.

Glancing up as a whorl of blackness blasts the books resting directly in front of you, you duck down, yet continue to run. That’s when you see a thick tome, larger than the others and bearing a dark red cover, jutting out from a shelf a few meters in front of you. With your magical shield barely staying intact, you lunge towards it, snatching the book as you fall towards the ground and somersault behind a desk-sized wooden stand to hide. On top of it stands a glass display case, with faint candlelight illuminating the rustic, yet enchanted, metal shield contained inside it.

You crouch down, flipping through the pages of the book desperately, trying to find the incantation you know has to be in there. One time, on one of your random visits to the library—the normal one, not this hell of the most cursed items in the land—you had picked up a text that talked about the history of spellcasting. Detailed inside was a description of one of the first books of curses ever written, which had been banned from production shortly after its release due to the nature of its contents. There had been a small sketch next to the explanation, which just so happens to match the tome now weighing in your hands.

Morgie’s blasts of magic don’t stop, pounding the wooden stand and the glass case alike. You think he yells something, but you can’t tell; you’re too focused on squinting at the fine print on the page, eyes wildly scanning the names of the spells. The desk quakes with every attack, causing your hands to tremble as you rifle through the pages hastily, pointer finger trailing down the lists of incantations. 

Finally, your eyes lock onto the one you want. “Obiectum impedit semitam,” you recite, gaze darting between the page and the glass case above you. It quivers vigorously, yet remains unscathed due to its magic-bulletproof nature.

“Evanescet a lumine irae meae!” As soon as the last syllable leaves your tongue, the glass case dissipates into thin air. Your hand darts up, clutching the shield and shoving it in front of you. Just in time, as the wooden stand protecting you explodes from the force of Morgie’s dark magic, blasting into a shower of mere splinters that rain down around you. The shockwave causes you to recoil, even as the shield absorbs the brunt of the impact.

Quickly regaining your bearings, you crouch even lower behind the metal. Thumbing through the book pages briskly, your eyes skim the ink, trying to find the first spell that can help you now. 

“Inimicus meus, caveto tibi,” you mutter the incantation rapidly, trying your best not to stumble over the archaic words—who knows what sort of havoc that would make. “Transi me et in carcere gelido capieris.”

You peek your head over the shield as you say the last line, locking in on your target. He stands there, panting, worn from his latest, potent attack. Morgie barely has enough time to widen his eyes as the final word escapes your mouth, instantly creating ice stalagmites that burst forth from the ground, crisscrossing as they trap him in a prison of ice. They tower high all around while entrapping him in a circle, frost coating their sleek outsides, which narrow into dangerously sharp tips.

The air turns frigid, and you can see flurries of movement as Morgie thrashes within his glacial cell. Already, he’s trying to break out. Through the cracks between the icicles, you can see a swirling vortex of black magic fighting the freezingly cold charm. Even though it is a strong spell, you know it won’t last for long. Especially not with the dark energy that is slowly, yet surely, thawing out the ice.

Springing up again, you bolt to the shelves on the other side, jumping over small puddles forming on the floor. The book is still open in your hands as you wildly tear through one page after another, the minuscule words shaking and blurring together as you run. Honestly, what kind of asshole decides to print in such a tiny font? you internally rage. Flipping through the large sheets of paper filled with small text reminds you of reading a dictionary. In a way, the spellbook is a dictionary of sorts, with the way every curse is listed alphabetically, in a neat and orderly manner—much unlike your current frenzied state, with how your heart pounds against your chest as if trying to break free, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins cuts off any semblance of a coherent thought forming in your brain.

Twisting sharply to your right, you dart towards the shelf that the Mirror stands on. You stare up at it as you continue to run, eyes practically sending a silent plea while it sits on its throne undisturbed, watching the scenes before it unfold as if viewing a play from the highest seat in the opera house; somehow mildly amused, yet still condescendingly blasé at the same time.

Flipping to the L section of the spellbook, you scan the page for a spell that can help you reach it at last. Finally finish the last stretch of your journey. 

The icicle prison behind you makes a dreadfully loud crack. Your heart only races even faster with a jolt, your breathing coming out only in sharp, erratic gulps that make you feel light-headed, as if you’re not getting enough oxygen no matter how much you gasp for air. 

As you scan the page, this time with a renewed fervor that has your eyes darting across the words, too panicked to even finish a sentence before leaping to the next, you make a very interesting revelation indeed. For whatever reason, the genius who wrote this book decided not to add levitation to the list of spells, but instead included lignum pullelare, which roughly translates to “sprouting a tree”.

Another thunderous boom sounds again from the constantly fracturing icicles, a violent reminder of the ticking clock. You decide that this spell, no matter how absurd, is the best shot you have. Inhaling another sharp breath that burns your lungs, you cry, “Surge, virens gigas, de terra immunda,” your eyes glued to the page. “Ascendunt ad lunam et super caelos!”

A branch smashes into your chest, knocking the wind out of you—you really need to get used to how quickly these spells take effect—lifting you up as a colossal tree ascends from the ground, growing much more rapidly than even a beanstalk, much less a normal tree. The metal shield slips out of your grasp from the impact, your fingers desperately flailing in its direction futile as it falls and hits the floor with a dull thud.  

Your get snapped back to the present from the momentary distraction as your body starts slipping off the branch, with how it's quickly growing into a thick, strong limb with no end in sight. You slide off the ever-stretching wood, scratches cutting into your arms as you frantically try to wrap them around the branch, until only your hands are still hanging on. Using the book, which remains gripped firmly in one hand, you fling it open and cling to each cover. The book's pages spread wide around the wood as you hold on for dear life.

You continue shooting upwards along with the tree, the bookcase racing past you, when a realization hits you like a strike of lightning. This tree won’t stop growing anytime soon, and when it does, you’ll be too high up—if you're still alive, that is.

Glancing above you, you spot the Mirror and the shelf it sits on getting closer, and getting closer fast. Making up your mind, or rather, making a brash decision fueled by your skyrocketing panic, you wait until the shelf you need to reach comes into view. Then, you jump off. 

Flinging yourself towards the bookcase, you manage to latch on to a shelf, fingers wrapping around the ledge while your feet find purchase on another ridge a few feet below. The book remains clutched in one hand, your iron grip refusing to let it go. Realizing you can't do anything while holding it, you risk letting go with one hand. Gripping onto the shelf with your other hand, you tuck the book under your chin, angling your head down as you struggle to hold it between your neck and body. 

You peer up at your grasp on the shelf, the unforgiving ridges digging into your skin, carving painful lines into your fingers. Your feet barely remain balanced, the ledge not jutting out as far as you’d like it to. Turning your heels in to stay on the little shelf space there is in front of the books, you wince as the ridges between your arms and legs bite into your body. The sweat coating your palms causes your grip to start slipping off, your eyes wide in sheer terror as you let go for a brief second, thrusting your hands further back and hooking onto the edge again.

Glimpsing back down, you see the Mirror resting in its glass cage a few shelves below you, the strange white mist slithering underneath the glass and pouring out over the bookcase like a waterfall. With your chin still uncomfortably positioned as to not lose the book, you release on hand and leg from the shelf, leaving you hanging in between life and death itself.

You move your free hand down one ledge below, then the corresponding foot, haltingly scaling your way down the bookcase. Each time precariously letting go of your grip or footing to blindly feel below yourself for another ledge to stay on. After a few iterations, your feet finally stand on the same shelf as the Mirror, right next to the glass case.

Another piercing boom echoes behind you, making you squeeze your eyes shut as you flinch against the bookcase, quivering breaths sending your heartbeat shooting through the roof. Your eyes dart down to the book you squeeze with your neck, then to where your hands are barely clinging on to the shelf. There’s no chance of using the book to make the glass disappear again. Cursing yourself for not memorizing the incantation earlier, your mind swarms with thoughts, each one so loud they drown out each other.

An idea forms in your head—or rather, slams itself into the sides of your brain like a wave crashing in a bottle while it screams for attention—as you warily lift one foot on top of the heel of the other shoe, maneuvering it off your foot.

Now with only a sock left, you press your toes against the glass container. Inhaling a sharp breath, causing your lungs to ache as they scream for more, you muster enough energy to summon a bolt of lightning, focusing all your attention on passing electrical current through your body and to your foot.

The hotness of the electricity heats up the glass, melting it until there’s a decent-sized hole the size of your foot there. Shuffling to the side and raising your shoeless foot to the ledge above, you draw back your other leg and smash it into the glass, causing the compromised structure to shatter everywhere.

Climbing down the bookcase farther, you come face-to-face with the Mirror of Yteriv at last. It looks exactly like it was depicted in that textbook, sporting an elegant silver frame and seemingly shattered surface, with the two rubies staring at you like glowing eyes. 

A loud explosion rings behind you, resounding throughout the entire library. You snatch the Mirror with one hand, turning your head to the side as far as you can without letting the book slip, just in time to see Morgie demolish the ice prison as he breaks free.

It's clear that since now he's no longer bound by frozen spikes of ice, you’re his next target. Taking in an abrupt gasp of air—the only preparation you have—you let go of the shelf.

You plummet towards the ground for only a second before creating small thunderbolts beneath each of your feet, suspending you in midair. Already, you can see Morgie charging up another attack, aiming it straight at you. Book in one hand, Mirror in the other, you take off into a run through the air. Small platforms of electricity form beneath your feet with every step, dissipating again as soon as your foot lifts.

Balls of dark magic hurl towards you, and you already know you have no chance of winning this fight—not like this. But you don’t need to win. Glancing down at the Mirror clutched in your palm as you jump off a thunderbolt, right as it gets blasted by a black orb, you realize that you’ve already completed your mission. Now, all that’s left is to get out of here.

Your mind scrambles for a way out that doesn’t involve getting blasted into smithereens, eyes still fixed on the Mirror as you continue to dash around in midair. Watching the wispy tendrils of white smoke pour out of the artifact, a previous memory from something you read in a book hits you like a flash.

As the Mirror of Ytirev connects to its wielder’s soul, so do its properties, the book had said. The mist emitted by the Mirror fluctuates with the wielder’s emotions; the more powerfully one feels their emotions, negative ones in particular, the more smoke it produces.

A room filled with smoke? You can’t think of a more perfect cover to help you escape.

Grip tightening even further around the Mirror as you leap to another lightning platform, dodging a new attack, you rack your brain for every negative emotion you have—which turns out to be a lot. The adrenaline pumping through your veins as your life flashes before your very eyes from every near-death experience. The way your heart shatters a little more every time your father overlooks your accomplishments, not paying any mind to how hard you strive to please him. Just to get a single smile, a pat on the back, a meager look of pride in your direction. One simple “That’s my daughter!” sent your way.

The anger deep inside you starts to bubble, pure rage sizzling and growing hotter every second you spend lost in your emotions. A fury that is always there, making every breath a little shorter, every happy moment a little duller. A dormant feeling that is usually left undisturbed, except for when it's triggered. Then it becomes a fire that burns hotter than any flame in the depths of hell.

The emotions and thoughts and memories that you keep suppressed in a corner of your heart all coming flooding out, like a dam finally bursting free. How could everyone strand you like that? Leave you all alone to suffer through your grief, while always expecting you to be kind and cheerful. They know what happened, and they have to know how badly it hurts. Yet not a single one cares. Not your dad, not your teachers, not your friends. No one in the entire world ever so much as offered a shoulder for you to cry on or gave you a comforting smile. Not one “I’m here for you” or “It’s all right, take your time.” No, all they did was raise their expectations, setting the bar so high until you’re barely clinging to it, trying to pull yourself up despite your weary arms. Lifting it to such heights that losing your grip and falling would mean certain death.

You think of the snarling, twisted animal that resides deep inside you, embedded into your very being, clawing at the aching hole in your heart left by the absence of your mother. Finally letting it break free after being caged for so long, you feel, oh-so agonizingly, how it scratches its way up your throat and escapes you in a wretched sob.

Why did she leave me? How could she leave me? I’m her daughter, for fuck’s sake. Who can abandon their child like that? Does she not care about me? 

Did she ever even love me?

Painful thoughts consume your head as a few stray tears run down your cheek. You grit your teeth, sucking in shaky gasps of breaths. Smothered by your anguish, submerged in emotion.

Yet, despite all this, it works. Remembering the entire point of your self-inflicted despair, your head snaps down to the Mirror. Although your legs burn and throb from all the incessant running, you can’t stop. At least not yet.

Thick fog exudes from the Mirror, rapidly engulfing the whole of the arena. Within a few moments, everything is covered in the dense whiteness, so heavy you can barely see your hand, even if you hold it directly in front of your face.

Morgie disappears in the fog as well, to the point where you can no longer see nor hear him. Assuming that he’s no longer a threat for now—if you can’t see him, he can’t see you, and if he can’t see you, he can’t attack you—you summon a staircase of thunderbolts and walk down it until you safely step onto solid ground.

Your legs practically give way at the first touch of hard floor, the urge to collapse and lie on the ground excruciatingly strong. Mustering up the last of your strength and willpower, you force your feet to step one after another, desperately trying to distract yourself from the fire burning in your muscles at even the strain of supporting your own weight. 

Almost done. Almost.

Practically rendered blind by the all-encompassing mist, you keep one hand outstretched, making sure you won’t collide with anything—especially Morgie. Pocketing the Mirror, you continue through the fog. You had made sure to note your direction in relation to the exit before everything became completely invisible as to help you easily find your way out without getting lost. But after a few minutes in the overwhelming whiteness, you start to doubt yourself. 

What’s even worse is that there’s no sign of Morgie. You’re not foolish enough to expect him to pop up right in front of you, but you don’t hear him making any sounds either. No footsteps, no breathing, nothing. Your strides are far more muffled as you take your other shoe off too, annoyed at the limping effect the difference in heights causes. But nothing from him.

Your mind starts wandering to what happened to him, refusing to admit that the smallest part of you feels the tiniest bit concerned. Does he need help? Is he still alive? Your intentions were to steal the Mirror and disarm him, not kill him. You’re not evil enough for that.

Not yet, anyway.

After stumbling through the murky fog for a bit longer, you start to notice that now, you can see your hand extended in front of you. The fog is thinning, you think, which means I must be nearing the edge of this area and heading towards the bookcases.

A little bit further, and the fog disperses to all but a thin mist. The bookshelves in front of you come into view, the rows and rows of them finally visible as they expand into the distance. Follow those, and you’ll find the door you came in through. 

So, so close…

You take a few more steps, the heavy spellbook still in hand as you reach into your pocket with an unusual, yet profound, sense of paranoia, ensuring the Mirror is still there. Out of nowhere, you feel a strange sort of chill cover your feet. You chalk it up to your lack of shoes, but, not being able to resist the urge, you glance down.

That’s when you see strange feathery tendrils of black smoke on the floor, in stark contrast to the thin mist that hangs in the air. They slither and wrap around your feet as they move, condensing together in front of you and rising up a meter off the ground in the shape of a hissing black cobra.

The cobra flares out its hood whilst flicking its tongue at you, swaying side to side as it stretches to its full height. You stumble backwards, hesitating for only a second too long before it dawns on you where the snake came from.

Behind you, a brooding voice sounds. “Going somewhere?” Morgie asks.

You spin around sharply, dismay and a special breed of horror painted on your face as you turn to face him. “I don’t care what you do, the Mirror is mine,” you growl, shooting him a lethal glare that truly could kill.

“I don’t think so.” He gathers more black magic around his palm, creating an orb that whirls around like a dark, spherical tornado. You both stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, a fracture in time, trying to decide your next move—when he suddenly throws his hand forward.

You flinch away, yanking the book in front of your face as a shield. After a second, when you don’t feel anything, you open your eyes, turning back in his direction in confusion.

And that’s when you see that you weren't the target of his attack.

The book in front of you was.

The dark magic gnaws at it from the back cover, where it hit on impact, eating away at the pages. “No!” you scream, desperately flipping through the paper as the magic destroys it. Your own magic may be quite strong, but since you're barely allowed to practice it, it’s nowhere near the son of Morgana’s abilities or prowess. This book was your only chance at defeating him.

Frantically rifling through the pages, a look of pure horror on your face, you try to scan the spells for something to save you. Teleportation is soon gone, as well as fireball. As soon as you catch a glimpse of a spell name that could be helpful, the incantation is instantly obliterated.

Panic building faster than even the speed of the dark magic, you flip to the front of the book, trying to find a spell at the beginning of the alphabet so you have enough time to actually read the incantation.

But apple is of no use, and neither is bridge. Morgie stands there, gaze transfixed on your struggling form, wickedly smiling with an amused raise of his eyebrows. Guess he really is a villain after all.

The black energy eroding the book spreads across both covers, demolishing the tome as you hold it in your feverishly trembling hands. Your eyes race across the letters, desperate to find one that could even have a chance at saving you.

Dragon, no.

Claws, not that.

Chasm, not that either.

None of these will help me! your internal voice screeches, the book dissipating as you hold it. Then, your eyes snag along a word.

Chains. The perfect spell. 

“Ut qui inritat, catenas sentiat iras,” you wildly spit out, heart racing, tongue unable to move fast enough. Your eyes dart frenziedly ahead of your mouth, running on sheer panic as you try to memorize the words in case the book does disappear. “Pati in compedibus, ut solvas pretium peccatorum tuorum,” you continue to cry out.

As the last fibers of the pages evaporate in black fumes, you thrust a hand in Morgie’s direction, yelling the last few words. “Eris enim sine fuga ligatus!”

Nothing.

Then, boom.

The residual magic from the demolished book, no longer contained in a physical form, explodes, the force sending you flying backwards. You soar for a couple feet before colliding with a shelf behind you, your head slamming against a sharp edge.

You crumple to the floor, body bruised, beaten, and bloody. The world spins, your head throbs, and you feel so generally shitty that you want to crawl out of your body and leave this physical hindrance behind.

Your head feels too heavy to lift up, and so it falls forward, swaying back and forth. A warm sensation on the back of your skull draws your senses back to the present, and you lift one weary hand to the spot. Bringing it back down in front of your face, you see a whole lot of red smothered on it, just as more trickles down onto the base of your head and neck.

Groaning, you lift your face to scan your surroundings as the dust settles yet again. The fog is now almost completely gone, allowing you to see rather clearly. Sight still blurry, you barely make out the figure a few meters in front of you as heavy chains whip up from the floor, wrapping around his arms.

More spring up around his legs, dragging him down and causing his knees to buckle. He fights against the metal, but they only tighten as even more encircle his torso, tethering him to the ground. He leans forwards, now kneeling before you, arms spread out and chained to the floor on either side.

In front of him, halfway between you two, lies the Mirror of Yteriv, face-up on the floor.

Scrambling to get up, you slowly manage to stand, leaning your weight on the bookcase behind you. The ground sways underneath your feet, but you don’t collapse. One shaky step after another, you make your way over to the mirror.

You practically crumple to the floor as you lean down to snatch it up, the sounds of chains rattling against each other echoing through your head as their prisoner resists his bonds.

You straighten again, running your fingers over every millimeter of the Mirror’s surface to ensure that the cracks reflected on it are only part of its usual appearance and not actual damage caused during the explosion. Once you're sure of its safety, you look down at the figure shackled in front of you.

Morgie looks up at you, hair disheveled and face bruised, a few drops of blood spattered on his cheek. His eyes are a storm of anguish and a wounded kind of sorrow, his jaw clenched tight. You’d like to think that he isn’t peering up at you, body tied and bound, with resentment etched into his features, but you know you’d be lying to yourself.

He gives another violent tug against the chains, but to no avail. Neither of you speak a word, remaining in complete silence, yet somehow saying a thousand things through your eyes. You stare down at him, at the way he can barely lift his head due to his restraints, the agony swirling in his eyes tugging at your heartstrings in ways that make you ache through your core. 

But you’ve already come this far. You can’t turn back now.

The deafening silence remains as you raise the Mirror up in front of yourself, the white mist wrapping around you as if beckoning you closer. The red eyes glow even brighter, their judgment intensifying as your reflection begins to appear in the glass. The cracks on the surface slowly fade away as you come into view, until finally revealing a completely smooth and unmarred image as you gaze into your own eyes.

Except they aren’t yours.

Your reflection in the mirror is not of yourself, but of a younger version of you. She smiles effulgently, a pure, innocent sparkle of wonder in her eyes. A look of untainted bliss painted on her face as she beams. 

A look you haven’t seen in your own reflection for a long time.

“Mommy?” her young, high-pitched voice calls out. “Mommy? Moooommy? Where are you?”

A sob gets caught in your throat as you gasp, tears framing your vision. As if the memory finally gets uncovered in your mind, after being hidden away all these years from your brain deeming it too painful, you realize when this is—or rather, what this is.

“Mommy?” she calls again, her smile faltering as her little brow furrows in confusion, her face scrunching ever so slightly. “Mommy?” She turns her head to the side, looking at something out of view before asking, “Daddy, where’s Mommy?”

Your chest heaves as a sharp cry escapes you, the pain taking a physical form in the tears streaking your cheeks, your face contorting as you weep. In the background, a man’s faint, shaky sobs sound.

The mirror slips from your fingers, landing on the ground with an echoing thud. You whimper, uncontrollably trembling breaths causing your chest to jolt back and forth. You don’t move, can’t move, empty hand still suspended in midair.

You feel numb, yet like you're experiencing every emotion all at once. Your brain can’t wrap around this, around any of this, can’t comprehend your own thoughts. Can’t process what you feel. You’ve shoved your emotion down for so long, that now that they’re no longer bottled up, you don’t know how to deal with them.

“I’m sorry.” The voice cuts through the thick silence, snapping you out of the raging war inside your head.

You glance over at Morgie, still wrapped in chains. His eyes no longer hold the same animosity and misery, but instead a soft sort of sympathy, an underlying look of understanding as he peers up at you, head slightly raised.

“I don’t want your pity,” you sniff indignantly.

“I’m not pitying you.”

You look down at him, your chest heaving, eyes bloodshot. Taking shaky gasps of breath through your mouth, your body quivers as you wait for him to continue.

“I didn’t know about your mom, and you’re totally justified for wanting to know what happened to her,” Morgie continues. “You can take that Mirror and walk out of here if you want.” You keep on staring at him, not saying anything, frozen with anticipation as he carries on. “But are you really going to risk your future for knowledge of the past?”

You gulp before responding, voice hoarse and eyes half-lidded, voice cold and numb. “Would you still hesitate to take that risk, even when it means it could make your future finally be one worth living?”

“Your future is already one worth living,” Morgie replies. “You may not see it, but you’re talented, and smart, and pretty, and you’re a good person. You have a bright future ahead of you.” He shakes his head, eyes still boring into you. “Don’t ruin it like this. Blinded by your pain.”

Sniffling, you inhale a shuddering breath. “And how do you know my pain is blinding me, and not making me see clearer? Clearer than I have in my entire life. Clearer than she did.” You jut your chin towards the mirror lying on the floor.

“I don’t. But what I do know, from seeing my own mother, is that pain like this gets you nowhere. Letting the people who were supposed to love you instead turn you bitter and cynical never fixes things. You may think that becoming evil is the solution, but it’s not. It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it.”

You stare at him intensely, a raw kind of pain displayed on your face, one that no one has ever seen before. A thousand emotions flicker through your eyes, your lips twisting into a whimpering attempt at a smile as you cry again, the sob wracking through your body. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

Hope flashes in your eyes, reflected in his. Your gaze softens, looking at him as if he’s the beacon of light at the end of the tunnel. A small grin breaks his steady demeanor, looking at you with optimism shining through the glimmer in his eyes.

You reach down, picking up the Mirror again. You stare at it, although not directly at your reflection this time. He peers up at you, still shackled to the floor, eyes wide with anticipation.

You slip the Mirror into the pocket of your cloak once again before turning around, your back to him. Twisting your head to the side so he hears you, you say, “The chains will disappear in an hour.”

Turning your head back, you walk away and leave him behind, black cape flickering in the dark night.

Unclasping the back, you slip off the locket, placing it in front of you. The rusty metal is reflected in the mirror in front of it, along with the tears that splatter on its surface.

It had belonged to your mother, the only thing you had left of her. She had given it to you when you were a little kid, not too long before she left. It was old and weathered, the silver having tarnished over time. Still, you religiously wore it every single day, never taking it off as if it's a part of your body. And sometimes, if you stare at it hard enough, you can almost trick yourself into believing she's still there.

Safely back in your dorm, all alone, you had set the Mirror down, flipping to the notebook page where you had transcribed the incantations for the ritual, without a second thought.

Now, sitting on the ground, the Mirror leaning against a leg of your desk with your locket as an offering in front of it, you start to hesitate. Your face twists in pure agony, features scrunched up, lips quivering uncontrollably as a waterfall of tears splatter onto your hands and lap.

It’s too late to turn back now.

Taking another shaky breath, you extend your hands forward to the Mirror, placing one thumb on each red gemstone embedded in the intricate silver design. The jewels watch you, scorning your every action. Just like everyone else.

Your eyes flutter closed, letting out the steadiest exhale you’ve had all night. “Speculum, speculum, in conspectu oculorum meorum,” you whisper, feeling the way the rubies press into the flesh of your thumbs. Already, the Mirror starts discharging more fog, enveloping you as it grows denser with each syllable. “Accipe donum meum et veritas libera me.”

You open your eyes as the last words leave your tongue, staring straight into the eyes of your own reflection.

The red gems glow radiantly, emitting a bright light that nearly blinds you. You squint, yet still unrelentingly stare into your eyes—or rather, your younger self's eyes. The fog swirls around you, swallowing you whole. You can’t see anything anymore, can’t even tell where you are. You feel as though your soul, your life’s very essence, gets sucked out of your body and into the Mirror.

You have the sensation of being shoved forward, but you don’t fall. In fact, you don't have a body anymore, no physical vessel to hold you. You try to look down, but you're greeted by the absence of your legs, sheer nothingness filling the space beneath you. You can’t really move around either, not in the way you’re used to. All you can do is simply float, your existence diminished to an untethered life force, with some semblance of what you once were.

Looking around, everything around you is white like before, but not in the suffocating way the fog was. Instead, you stand in a wide expanse of whiteness, a vast field of empty space. It stretches on forever, with no end in sight. It’s as if you’re stuck in a blank canvas, waiting for a painter to bring you to life.

The sound of wind whistles all around you, but not so much as a breeze actually comes. In fact, everything is completely unmoving. Despite the stifling stillness, you remain listening to the sound of the wind. If you strain hard enough, you can hear something almost like faint whispers filling your senses.

You look around again, ignoring the eerie voices. According to all the texts you read, after the Mirror accepts the wielder’s offering, they can ask for their answer. You’re not quite sure if this field of emptiness means your offering’s been accepted, but seeing as how you don’t feel insane yet, you think it’s safe to presume so. Still, your brain can’t help but point out that crazy people probably don’t feel like they’re crazy either.

Shaking off your doubts, you decide to continue with the process. After all, it is the only shot you have. You had memorized all the incantations for this particular spell earlier, repeating them over and over again until every word was engraved into your mind.

“Scire volo verum,” you recite. “I wish to know a truth.” Nothing happens.

You take a deep breath. “I wish to know why my mom left.”

The wind around you grows louder, howling even in the still air. The whispers increase in volume, once seemingly non-threatening and benign, now forming a cacophony of overlapping, chaotic voices. They grow distorted and grating, pushing in from every side, wrapping around you and slithering into your brain. You can’t block them out, no matter how hard you try; can’t swat them away, can’t make them leave, leaving you trying to tear them out of your head, despite not having hands anymore.

Suddenly, the white vastness turns a dark gray, and you start getting pulled downward towards something, like moving towards the center of a black hole. The whispers grow claws and fangs, clawing and scratching at your chest as they drag you down, making it hard for you to breathe. 

You try to fight back, but the voices now in your head keep pulling you down. They’ve taken over you, consuming you whole, and it’s impossible not to succumb to their will.

As they continue to drag you down into the abyss, you turn around—or rather, focus on the other side of your vague form of spiritual energy—and notice a tiny black dot very far down, but steadily growing bigger as you move towards it.

The whispers are screaming now, cries of agony of those who came before you, encompassing you whole and forcing you to the depths of this dark chasm.

And that’s when it hits you.

The others who used the Mirror did all end up getting the truths they sought.

And the truth was what drove them to madness.

You panic, trying to shake off the invisible hands of the whisperers, but they only tighten their hold around you. No matter how hard you fight them, they don’t relent in their endeavor of pulling you towards damnation.

“Are you really going to risk your future for knowledge of the past?” Morgie’s words echo in your head out of nowhere, haunting you with regret. You absolutely despise admitting it, but fuck, he was right.

Your last conversation with him replays in your mind, reminding you of your foolishness and idiocy. You had been so focused on getting what you wanted that you were indeed blinded to the truth that had been right in front of you this whole time.

“Your future is one worth living.”

His voice swirls around in your brain, drawing your attention away a little from the screaming voices in your head.

“You’re talented, and smart, and pretty, and you’re a good person.”

You realize these are probably the last words you’ll ever hear.

“You have a bright future ahead of you.”

You feel like crying again, the despair that’s taken root in you fighting to escape. Still, you don’t have an actual body in this dreamscape, so crying is impossible.

“It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it.”

You look back up the other direction and away from the black dot, resigned to your fate as you get dragged down into the chasm, deeper, deeper, deeper. At first, you think you’re imagining it; a mirage created by your mind to distract you from your pain. But as the descent continues, you begin to realize that it may not be an illusion after all.

In front of you, from the direction you came, a faint golden thread, seemingly made of pure light, stretches from your form of consciousness and ascends, up, up, up, all the way to the never-ending sky. With each of Morgie’s words you repeat in your head, the string of light grows stronger, brighter.

“You’re talented.”

The thread becomes thicker and more luminous, and you begin to realize that your descent has slowed down as well.

“And smart.”

The thread grows again, and you slow down a little more.

“And pretty.”

Your eyes follow the string upwards, and now, you see there’s a faint patch of white amidst the murky gray surrounding you.

“You’re a good person.”

The thread, still shooting out straight from your form, gleams with a shimmering golden light now. You notice that you’re no longer getting dragged downwards, but instead up, towards the whiteness. The screaming voices aren’t as insufferably loud anymore, either.

“You have a bright future ahead of you.”

You keep ascending, getting drawn faster and faster up. Morgie’s words serve as your lifeline, saving you from insanity.

“You’re not worth it.”

Now, you see that the white patch is actually an opening, an escape from this hell. The thread leads to it, its blinding brightness concealing whatever lies beyond.

“I know so.”

The last of his words give you the final push you need, sending you straight into the white light.

Your head snaps up with a sharp, terrified exhale. You look down, taking a moment to register that you’re back in your room. The locket dangles from one of your hands, the Mirror clutched in the other.

Fresh tears replacing the dried ones on your cheeks as you let out a sob of excruciating heartache, a sound of pure agony. The kind that no one should have to go through.

You look down at the cracked surface of the Mirror—a feeling of raw, unbridled anger set in the way you clench your jaw, and the way your face contorts with your cries—staring straight at the evil red eyes still gleaming at you.

With a swift motion, you lift your hand above your head, still grasping tight. Mustering together all your might, you hurl the Mirror towards the ground, watching as it shatters into a sea of glittering pieces.

“You’re late.”

You lean against the rough brick wall of an empty corridor, arms crossed, your figure partially obscured in shadows.

“And I’m surprised you’re still here,” Morgie quips, walking towards you. “Why’d you even want to talk with me? Especially through leaving that threatening note next to my nightstand for me to find when I woke up.”

He stops in front of you, leaving you to glower at him. Suddenly, with no warning, you lunge towards him, seizing the collar of his shirt and pushing him against the wall, your other hand summoning a rod of crackling lightning. 

His eyes widen with a startled gaze, but he doesn’t look quite as fearful as you want him to be. “Now, listen here.” You press the tip of the lightning bolt against his neck. “If you say a word of what happened last night to anyone—especially my father—I will kill you.”

Although you try to sound as menacing as possible, Morgie is unfazed. An amused smirk spreads across his face as he replies, “Alright, relax. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone anyways.”

His eyes trail down from your gaze to the locket dangling from your neck. He reaches out a hand, brushing his thumb along the tarnished metal as he softly says, “You didn’t go through with it, huh?”

You pull away, frustrated at his compassionate tone. “No. I decided…it was too risky. After all, what’s the point of figuring out the past if I can’t ever use that information, right?” A small smile spreads across Morgie’s face, that sympathetic, delicate look in his eyes again. Your irritation rising at this, you add, with a growl, “Although I will find a way to get my answer. I don’t care how bad I have to become, if you, or my father, or anyone stands in my way, you’ll truly see how evil I can be!”

Morgie keeps his unfettered appearance up. God, he’s so annoying! you mentally scream in frustration.

“Why are you so fixed on this?” he asks, tilting his head sideways and furrowing his brow as if trying to look past your cold, vengeful, rancorous mask and figure out the scarred little girl buried underneath.

You roll your eyes instead of answering. Never one to express emotions, the thought of opening up now about your years of pain feels terrifyingly vulnerable. It’s so much easier to just build walls around your heart and shut everyone out.

“Tell me this, and I promise I won’t tell a word of what happened last night to anyone,” Morgie bargains.

You narrow your eyes. “You already said you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Well, now I’m having second thoughts.”

You raise your arm again to summon another bolt of electricity, and Morgie lifts his hands, palms facing forward, in a gesture of surrender. “Relax, I won’t say anything, fine. But I just want you to talk to me. Bottling up your emotions like this isn’t healthy. Last night should be a good example of that.”

You shoot another glare at him, but can’t deny the fact that he’s right. Still, you hate the idea of how exposed and weak you'd be if you actually told someone how you feel.

“I’m not going to leave you, you know.”

You peer up at him, eyes wide in shock, as he continues. “I’ll stay by your side. You don’t have to worry about me abandoning you.”

Gulping, you nod, averting his gaze. Instead, you choose to look down at your shoes, studying the laces as you speak. “I…when my mom left, it was so sudden. No goodbyes, nothing. It was like one day, she just vanished.”

Your voice cracks, and Morgie places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, unknowingly pulling you closer to him. You swallow, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “My dad didn’t even care. It was as if she never existed. And everyone else…they all knew what happened. But they paid no attention whatsoever. They expected me to act normal, be all nice and sweet as if nothing changed. It made me hate them, hate all of them.”

“Do you hate me?”  

Morgie’s voice rings in the empty corridor, quiet yet speaking louder than a thousand shouts. You look up at him again, his image slightly blurred by the tears welling at the bottom of your eyes. You look up and you see the boy that stood by your side at your worst, who didn’t get scared or run away when you showed him your true colors.

The boy who said things no one’s ever said to you, whose words saved you from destroying yourself.

The boy who stands here, a concerned crinkle on his forehead as he awaits your answer. He doesn’t have to be here, listening to your problems. He doesn’t have to care.

But he does.

“No,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “No, I don’t hate you.”

In the suffocating sea of fake smiles and stifling pressures, Morgie is like a breath of fresh air. The first gulp of oxygen that you take as your head breaks free from the water.

“That’s a relief,” he responds, a trace of a smirk ghosting his features.

You give a small, bittersweet laugh. “Ever since my mom left and my dad stopped caring about me, I’ve never had anyone to talk to. No one seems to care about my emotions, or ask me how I’m doing. It’s as if I’m not a real person who has actual feelings.”

You’re on the verge of tears again, and Morgie must realize this, because he tries to lighten the mood by attempting—and failing—to inconspicuously wrap an arm around your shoulder as he says, “So, what I’m hearing from all this, is that you need a strong, reliable figure in your life to lean on, right? Like…a boyfriend or something?”

You duck under his arm, moving a good few feet away from him while fixing him with another glare. “Yeah no, I’m good.”

“Come on, that was smooth! You’ve got to admit it,” he whines, drawing out a small giggle from you. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve laughed like this: a true, heartfelt laugh, not the fake one that you do to appease other people under the pressure of society's expectations. It feels nice, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. 

All because of him.

“I don’t know, maybe I'll consider it with some time, if you treat me well,” you joke as you turn your head away with faux indifference. 

“Hey, a slim chance is better than no chance at all, right?” Morgie moves closer to you again, as if he can’t stand having so much space between the two of you. “I can see I’ve made some progress since last night, when you tried to kill me.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes at him.

“Oh yeah? Tell that to the bruises on my body.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so weak and sensitive,” you retort with a grin.

He nudges you playfully and you laugh again, shaking your head with an amused look. “Hey, I was wondering,” he asks, locking eyes with you, “what did you end up doing with the Mirror?”

You give a knowing grin, masking the undercurrent of what’s left unsaid. You vaguely respond, “It’s in a better place now.”

“If you say so,” Morgie replies, his smile returning to his face and lighting up his features once again. He continues to tease you, and you oblige him, keeping up the friendly banter as he walks you to class.

The Enchanted Lake glistens, reflecting the sun’s gentle rays with a bright shimmer. Deep down, under feet of clear blue water and various forms of aquatic life, in a far corner of the lake, lies a bag of glass shards. Next to it floats an ornate metal carving with a hollow center, reminiscent of something once set there. And at the top, two glowing red gemstones briefly flicker and die out, like watchful eyes finally closing.

end x

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a/n: how did this get so long...if you're still here, and if you actually read that entire thing, thank you so so soo much! I'm sending you a virtual cookie and a hug (if you're comfortable with it ofc) because you're absolutely awesome! <3 hope you enjoyed reading!

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[littlest-w01f]

Monster

Tamlin x Reader

TAMLIN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Reader sees her mate Tamlin lose himself to magic for the first time during her first Calanmai

Cw: Dark!Tamlin, vines as tentacles, corruption kink, breeding kink, erotic asphyxiation, impact play, monster fucking if you squint (don't read if you don't like it), Smut 18+MDNI

You stood outside the cave Tamlin was in, you'd been fashionably late, wearing a soft green dress that reached your upper thighs, parts of it translucent like a silk slip, and a sweetheart neckline that accentuated your breasts, it might have been the most skimpy thing you'd ever worn, a little gift for your mate, the High Lord, who was in a cave this very moment, the festivities of Calanmai about to begin.

You were surrounded by a bunch of Fae women, all looking expectantly at the cave your mate had gone in, your mate won't be who came out, The Hunter, Tamlin had called himself, would. Dark and strong magic in control of his mind and body.

The constant pull he had on your mating bond made you feel better about everything he had said, he won't be your Tamlin, he'd asked if there was anything you were uncomfortable with for him to do, it didn't feel like he would remember.

Your heart started to beat faster when you heard a growl from the cave he'd gone in, come out, he winnowed right in front of you, pure lust in his eyes, laurel leaves keeping his hair out of his painfully handsome face, he was bare-chested, painted in dark blue woads.

Things were quiet except for the beating of the drums that beat loudly, Tamlin gently caressed your cheeks with his knuckles, his claws threatening to break free before he gripped your neck, making you gasp for air and winnow you back to the cave he was in.

You groaned as your ass hit the hard ground, wincing slightly, Tamlin stalked close to you from where he was standing, nothing in him except pure lust and the need for his mate. A Hunter indeed, trapping a lovely maiden inside a cave, he was at the side of the entrance, and there was nowhere for you to run, except for deeper in the cave, not that you wanted to.

"Oh, I'm going to ruin you fully now," Tamlin groaned, walking to you like a predator stalking it's prey.

"Rough or gentle?" Tamlin growled mindlessly, a voice that didn't even seem his as he looked down your body, smirking at your dress, or rather barely a dress, "Aww, is this thin piece of fabric all for me?"

You nodded softly, "Y-yes." You bit your lips as he knelt between your legs, waiting for your answer to his former question, you were sure you could hear the sounds of leaves and vines from deeper in the cave, "Anything you want, my Lord."

You felt him shudder at the title from your lips as he pried your legs open, giving you a smile that showed his blunt canines elongating into fangs, "Rough then, for my good girl."

His words were filled with an unmistakable tone of dominance, as if he was taking control of every aspect of the situation. His hands gripped your thighs firmly. He leaned down, his breath hot on your skin. You could feel the weight of his body against yours as he whispered in your ear, "I'll fuck you so hard that you won't be able to walk straight afterward."

Before you could even reply, he bent forward, slamming his lips against yours in an aggressive kiss, his hands gripping your clothes to rip them off your body, turning your silk and lace to shreds off your body, you gasped as the cold air of the cave hit your bare body, feeling Tamlin press against you fully, leaving the paint his body had been marked him to rub against yours, your own eyes hazy from the spell of the Rite, moulding into his, submitting to him, ready for anything he had to give you.

"You look so beautiful like this," He whispered, his teeth grazing your neck, "All submissive and willing."

You whimper lightly, leaning into his lips, "Tam-" He gave you a look and you corrected, "My Lord... Please."

"Please what, princess?" He taunted her, his lips trailing down your neck to your shoulders, the Hunter breathing you in, crazed by your scent, you could feel your arousal between your legs, spread apart for Tamlin to settle in between, your cunt pulsing for even an ounce of friction.

"Give me something," You panted, sensing his hard cock, still in his pants, pressing against your inner thigh, "Please, anything."

"Oh, like this?" He asked curiously, his fingers ghosting over your clit making your hip buckle into his hand, he smiled watching you grip his hands to bring his hand closer.

He tutted, taking both your hands in his to pin them over your head with one, "Behave now, you said anything I want. And I want to make you cry." A wave of relief washed over you as he had a little mercy on you and rubbed your clit harder.

Your relief was short-lived as he pulled his hand away making you kick your feet in frustration, which earned a chuckle out of him. As you felt his warm breath against your neck, you couldn't help but tremble in anticipation. With a gentle tug, he pulled your head back by your hair, exposing your neck to his sharp teeth. A chill ran through your veins as you heard him growl, "You belong to me now, little mate. So, I can do whatever I want with you."

"Keep your hands up," He growls, bringing his hands down to spread your thighs, his teeth still on your sensitive neck as you whimper. Tamlin grunted in pleasure, his teeth sinking into your soft flesh. He bit down hard, causing a small trickle of blood to seep out from the wound. As he did so, he used his free hands to grab your breasts, twisting and pinching roughly, groping you fully. You let out a muffled cry, biting your lips, feeling the pain and the heat from his bite.

He shushed you gently, giving soothing licks to the bite mark, licking away the blood, "That's it... See, now I've claimed you fully, my precious mate." He quickly moved to bite the other side of your neck to give a symmetrical bit mark

"My Lord..." You breath, "My Tam..."

He moved to your face, a couple tears threatening to fall from your eyes as you looked up at him, his kissed over your eye lids, making your tears fall as he moved to his pants, ripping them off his body, finally releasing his painfully hard cock, it stood tall and proud, the tip glistening with precum. He grabbed your leg, pulling it upwards, exposing your wet cunt to him even more.

"Look at you liking this," He mused as you tried thrust your core anywhere, for any sort of friction, you make the mistake of bringing your hand down from where he had told you to hold them, in a blink of an eye there are vines surrounding you, growing from his magic, under his control, he face is expressionless, "I told you to keep your hand up, Princess."

You gasp, struggling as the vines he grew gripped painfully tight around your arms, pulling them up, some sneaked past your hips, holding your legs open for him.

"You don't deserve to be stretch for me," He decides with a sadistic grin, with a wave of his hands the vines flip you on your stomach and tuck your knees under, a slight pain in your knees from being slammed down, spiking your every growing arousal. "I'll take you tight." He smirked, leaning over you.

You wait in anticipation for him, to feel the nudge of him against your dripping slit but what you felt was a hand, the hand of a beast, Tamlin's beast, claws sharp and long, soft golden fur growing on his Fae arms, somewhere between completely Fae and beast, he held you by your neck in a tight grip, making it difficult for you to breath.

You jerk with a cry of pain from a resounding slap, his hand on your ass, with a force that would cause a mark, another followed on the opposite side. You were breathless and aroused, waiting for his next move when you, at last, left his tip nudge at your wet slit, grinding against him, or trying to, after being bound, vines that stalked to between your legs, a few thinner ones wrapping around your clit to tug at the neglected nub causing you to shake.

Tamlin's claws dug into your thigh, holding you tightly in place. He leaned forward, his face inches away from yours. The cave seemed to spin around you, as if they were both caught in a whirlwind of passion and lust. His voice was low and rough, like the rumble of the beast he hadn't fully let out. "Now, I'm going to fuck you until you beg me to stop."

You barely muffled the scream that erupted from your throat as he plunged into your cunt fully, a vine wrapping itself around your neck and squeezing tight to quiet you down, not giving you any time to adjust as he began a rough pace. "That's it..." He growled, purely animalistic, "Scream my name."

And you did, you screamed his name with every thrust, every whine and moan that left your lips, his name followed, your High Lord, your mate, legs shaking with the urge to cum at the pleasure of his cock's punishing pace and at the vines tugging at your clit.

"I'm gonna make you a mother," Tamlin groaned, thrusting in as far as he could, "Give you all my heirs. That's what you want, don't you?" He felt you through the bond as you nodded fast, a gentle kiss on the back of your shoulder blades seemed foreign compared to everything else as he whispered, "Cum for me, Princess."

You came hard, clenching hard around Tamlin's cock, milking his cock when he hit his high right after you, fucking his thick knot in, making yours eyes bulge out at the stretch that was pure beast. He emptied his seed in you, dropping lightly as your legs twitched, his knot keeping him in and not letting him pull out.

You both whimpered, the spell of the Rite washing away as Tamlin wrapped a gentle arm around your waist, stroking your now filled abdomen.

The vines and claws retracted as he turned you on your side, still buried inside you, "The knot is good, hm?" He kissed your hair softly. "Keeps my cum in you."

"Let go for me, dear," He gently rubbed the welts and red marks the vines and his hands had given you, lulling you to relax with a soft kiss to the crown of your head. "Rest up, there is more for tonight."

{General Taglist: @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

[bones4thecats]

hello i would like to make a request for the first years where your friends are liking your younger brother/sister please ex: Ace's sister is going to visit and the rest of the first years develop a crush

Ace's Sibling Attracts The Other 1st Years

Characters: Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Epel Felmier, Jack Howl, and Sebek Zigvolt Requester: @marinahavik A/N: For this, the Reader is Ace's younger twin. It just makes more sense to me since I don't want them to get a crush on someone in like middle school😵 And I know that my limit if 3-4 characters, but hear me out! The first piece (Ace's) is more background information than anything else! Anyways, I hope y'all have fun reading this! ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Protective older siblings ig ⚠️

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╚═════ Ace Trappola ═══════════════════════════╝

🪅 When you and Ace were young, he would keep all of the guys away from you. You were his younger sibling, not theirs. And he did not share affection very well

🪅 But, as you two grew up, you went separate ways. He went to college at Night Raven, and you went to a straight job with you oldest brother

🪅 Ace didn't like to, but he had to admit that he missed you a lot. You were his partner in crime growing up. From throwing wet toilet paper onto other students or teachers you disliked to even going so far as to 'hiding' the teacher's notes. And by hide I mean by pass them to each other through your up-and-coming unique spell

🪅 Anyways. One day you realized that, because of some incidents at your workplace, you had around a couple weeks off. So, you called up your brother's Headmaster and asked if you could swing by for a couple days to hang around with your brother

🪅 The irresponsible man just laughed and gave you permission before rambling about how kind he was. What a strange man...

🪅 Grabbing your bag as you stepped out of the carriage, you smiled joyfully before sneaking into Heartslabyul and hiding your bag underneath the spare room's bed. Of course, Trey and Riddle knew that you were coming by, they are the Vice and lead Housewarden, so they knew everything when it came to their dorm

🪅 You adjusted the sleeves on your long white with red accents cardigan and began to sneak up behind your brother, who was walking backwards like the moron he was

🪅 Hunkering down before anyone could see you, you jumped up and pulled your brother down to the ground, making him squeal and land roughly, an annoyed expression laid on his face until he saw the familiar look of his younger twin

"Y/N?! What are you doing here, you little chameleon?"

"To keep it short and sweet, big bro. My work got a little screwed up and I have two weeks paid vacay while they fix it. I just decided to swing by and spend a few days here with you. Because, well, why the hell not?"

🪅 Ace grumbled as you began to screw around with his hair in a noogie. You had done this almost every time you saw him at school with your oldest brother. He understood now why being the middle child sucked so much in other's eyes

"Ace... who's this?"

🪅 The orange-haired male looked up at Deuce and smirked, a sense of pride washing over him as you used your unique magic to transport a floating chalkboard in front of the group of boys that Ace seemed close to. The sound of chalk rubbing on the board echoed until a single name was left

"This is... Y/N TRAPPOLA. My dearest younger twin."

"By only four minutes."

"Still older."

"Still far less mature."

"You wanna say that to my face, you little twerp?"

"Come at me, Ace Crappola!"

"Why you!-"

Over the course of the next couple weeks, you hung around Ace's group of friends, getting to know them all. Unaware of the secret they were all hiding from not only one another, but from Ace especially...

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╚═════ Deuce Spade ════════���══════════════════╝

♠️ Deuce was Ace's best friend, so you would get photos sent by your brother or messages of posts of the two of them on his Magicam account

♠️ When you looked at the other males, you smiled and immediately walked up to the former delinquent, a smile forming quickly as you wrapped your arms around his neck and made him hunch over slightly due to the force

"You must be Deuce! I've heard so much about you from my brother! By the way, what a fun change in your life." You said, teleporting a dual-sided card in your hand.

"Going from the tough eight of spades with dominance and ruthlessness only known. To the youthful three of spades with the love of teamwork and a special kind of playfulness, you really are the definition of a dual-sided card, Prince of Spades~"

♠️ As you twirled the card around and handed him it back, this time the King's face being replaced with his own. His face erupted in blush as you patted his head and wished him luck on his long journey to his view of perfection for his family

♠️ As you moved on to the others, Deuce couldn't help but look at the card and see a little note below with the words you just said to him there. His heart began to thump faster and harder within his chest, his face beginning to heat up with embarrassment. He was never like this with others... why were you so different...?

♠️ Oh Great Seven, Ace may just have his head

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╚═════ Jack Howl ═════════════════════════════╝

🐺 As Jack watched you step away from the spade-marked first year, he wondered what kind of trick you were going to try pulling on him. Were you going to do the same with a card, or maybe something new?

"Now, you I don't know much of. Though, by your adorable little ears, I'm guessing your Jack Howl. As I don't know as much about you, you give me more of a 'let the outcome tell' vibe. You also give me more of a... how do I put this." You began, grabbing a deck of cards out of your pocket as you shuffled it constantly as all listened to you speak.

🐺 Straightening out the cards, you smiled and handed him a random group cards, having him pick one out of it. He noticed one had a black dot, so he avoided that and picked the one next to it

🐺 Taking the cards back and reshuffling them, you pulled one out and he noticed quickly that it had no black dot. You had to have screwed the trick up

"You give me a eight of hearts vibe! How iconic, yes? This also tells me you care for your family and friends dearly and you have goals that you want to meet. I believe you shall meet this very easily and without any issues besides maybe a few corrupt souls. Have fun on that journey of strength, Jackie."

"H-how did you know that I..."

🐺 A smile appeared on your face as you spun back around and looked into the eyes of the beastman. You chuckled lightly and began to twirl his tail between your fingers, the soft fur bushes upwards before calming down and wrapping around his leg in embarrassment similar to Deuce's

"Had that card? I was taught magic growing up, I work in mysterious ways~"

🐺 Jack saw how you flung the card back at him, but the back was completely changed, a print of a snowy mountain surrounded by forests with a nice house laying in the front with a pack of wolves out front. It was like his family was at their home miles away in the Shaftlands

🐺 You were far more interesting than Jack initially thought. Maybe having a second Ace around would be entertaining for the new couple weeks...

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╚═════ Epel Felmier ════════════════════════════╝

🍎 Epel was shocked after seeing how you tricked Jack with the black dot on the card. You must've had the best eyes he had ever seen, maybe even better than Rook's! And he literally stalks students just because he wants to 'admire them'

🍎 God that guy's creepy sometimes...

🍎 The sound of your footsteps made the Pomefiore first year look up and see you put the deck of cards away and pull out multiple dice

"What are these for?"

"Well, to put it simple, pretty boy. If you roll these dice, you'll either see your biggest fear or your biggest want. What that is is completely up to your own psyche. Now, go ahead and pick a dice, or use 'em all."

🍎 Epel narrowed his eyes at you and looked over the dice, a sense of skepticism running through his mind. There was no way that a puny dice would be able to tell what his biggest fear and his biggest want was by him rolling it!

🍎 The male took one dice and scrambled it inside of his hands and rolled it onto the ground, thinking of his biggest want in life. He then took the second one and did the same thing, only thinking of his biggest fear this time

🍎 You smiled and tapped onto the ground ten times, throwing one hand down before clapping together over and over again before clapping down at the ground and summoning two holograms of his fear and want

🍎 The sight of Epel being a manly-man, carrying many barrels of hay around his family's farm shocked him enough, but seeing the other dice project a scene of him dining like a little princess with a posh accent made him jump and hide behind his hands, a hint of blush showing between his fingers

🍎 You chuckled and apologized for embarrassing the young man, pulling the two dices and scrambling them together before you opened them again and showed a single dice with special carvings on it. From trees of apples to the single fruit to even a little farmhouse, Epel looked at the object with stars in his eyes

"Thank you! This is so cool lookin'!"

"No problem! By the way, tell your grandmother that your family's apple juice recipe better not change! That stuff is the shit to drink when I have a break at work. Have fun attempting to reach your goal of being a manlier man, Felmier."

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╚═════ Sebek Zigvolt ═══════════════════════════╝

⚡ As you went through the multiple first years, Sebek watched and was getting very annoyed. You were obviously informed by Ace of their likes and dislikes and their lives all together. There was no way you just knew all of this!

⚡ You smiled and walked in front of Sebek, pulling out a vile of gambling chips. The edges were stripped with the same green as Sebek's hair with highlights of black and white

⚡ Handing the half-fae a single chip, you began to rant about how his family life was affecting him, much to his surprise. He never told anybody of it, and thankfully, you were sneaky enough to speak of this while the others spoke a few feet away

⚡ Sebek watched you carefully as you tossed him another chip, revealing a carving of his parents meeting

"You're parents are a fae and human, a female for the first and male for the second. Over time, you began to see your human side as weak." A third chip, then fourth, and over and over again.

"H-how do you know this..."

"Magic, Sebek. Magic."

⚡ Stepping closer to Sebek, you noticed how your information had slightly made him sad. So, in an action of sympathy, you laid your hand on his cheek and moved his face to make him look into your eyes

⚡ Opening his hands and trading the chips for a bracelet with dice charms and multiple extra ones attached, you gave him a light hug with your extra arm and told him to stay positive

"You're a human. What could you know about a fae's family and staying positive with a veteran for a grandfather?"

"More than you think. Just remember this whenever you feel bad of yourself. You were made this way for a reason. You're a half-human, half-fae for the sake of your life. Don't think wrongly of yourself. You're great the way you are... well, minus the yelling at least."

⚡ You let Sebek's face go and yelled at Ace to quit being an idiot. And as you scolded your sibling for his idiocy, the green-haired male looked at the bracelet, noticing the charms had dragons, swords, lightning, and a few cards and dices here and there, the most obvious one being a four of spades. He smiled gently as his cheeks heated up

⚡ You really were different than your brother, weren't you?

[vividraft]

a soft inconvenience ! *ੈ✩‧₊˚ - where they are magically turned into pets, and you have to turn them back ⋆·˚ ༘ *

⇢ ˗ˏˋ characters: Scar, Jinhsi, Changli

⇢ ˗ˏˋ readers gender not specified !

⇢ ˗ˏˋ important note: I struggled a lot with writing Scar, because he is very yandere-ish, and Changli because I don't know her personality that well...

⇢ ˗ˏˋ a/n: I wrote this in the middle of the night, because my insomnia wouldn't let me sleep... hope this is okay anyways!

masterlist

You’re a well renowned magician in Huanglong. You have dealt with pretty much every spell and curse in the book, and yet it still hits you by surprise, when one day a very unexpected person crosses your way. And not as their usual self, but as an animal, that fit’s them a little too well. 

Scar: 

“So I know this is funny and all, but I would really like to be turned back now…”, Scar sulked on your couch, while all you could do was laugh at the little red and white cat sitting in front of you. 

When you heard commotion from your front door, you quickly rushed out to see what it was. Yet when you opened a door, all you could see was a cat in the middle of some knocked over vases, looking at you innocently and expectantly. 

“I was trying to knock, I’m pretty new to being a cat you know”, Scar argued. 

You obviously understood the seriousness of the situation, and the fact that there was someone out there who was turning people into animals was something that had to be dealt with quickly. Turning someone back into their original state was also not something that was hard for you, but you wanted to use this situation a little to your advantage. 

And apparently Scar was starting to have his fun as well. 

“Hey- Scar get off the windowsill you’re gonna knock down-! My decorations…”, you will definitely make him pay you for those. 

“Wait! Not the flowers! Scar!!”, now he was really enjoying himself. 

“This is what you get for laughing”, if he wasn’t a cat right now, he would definitely have his annoyingly smug smile on his face. 

At this point you were chasing him around the house, unable to catch up to him. He was jumping around like he had been a cat his whole life, and you thought you were never able to catch him. Until you did. 

“Hey! Let me down! I wasn’t- ooohhh…”, Scar was suddenly real quiet when you started crawling him between his ears. Just like you would treat any other cat. 

You sat down on the couch with your new cat in your lap, and to your surprise, Scar even started purring! 

You would never let him live this down. 

“Oooh yeah right there…”, the red cat was basically melting in your lap, unaware of how you were already slowly turning him back into his human form. 

After just a few more minutes, you had a now human-form Scar lying with his head in your lap, and at that, you finally stopped crawling his head. 

“Hey, why’d you stop?”, Scar opened his eyes, just to see that he had his arms and legs back. 

He sat up, confused and presumably embarrassed. 

“You owe me one”, you giggled. 

Suddenly he laid back down in your leg. 

“Keep petting me, I didn’t say you could stop”

“Hell no get off my lap I have other things to do. You’re not as cute anymore”, you replied, pushing him off. 

“Nooooo pleaseeee I’ll do anything just pet meeeee!!!”

Great, now you have a big kitty crying in your living room. 

Jinhsi: 

It was a pretty warm day, and just to get some fresh air into your house, you opened a window. You would have expected anything, except for a swan to come flying into your house, almost hitting you in the face. 

A clumsily flying swan was something you had never seen before, usually they were very graceful fliers. Although most swans also don’t fly into other peoples homes. 

“y/n I need you help”, the swan sounded like it was on the verge of tears. 

“Wait- Jinhsi?!”, the realization struck you like lighting. The not-so-graceful swan in front of you was Jinhsi! 

“Yes it’s me! Iwastransformedintoaswanandidontknowbywhoand-”, the words were flooding out of here, incomprehensible and absolutely unstoppable. 

“Woah, okay Jinhsi calm down. Don’t worry we can fix this. It’s not the first time I have turned somebody from an animal into a human… or the other way around”

“Really? Thank you y/n, thank you-!”, her wings were flapping like crazy, and it was like she had absolutely no control over her own body.

You had to sit down on the floor next to her to reach her height. Never have you thought about how much a swan fits Jinhsi as an animal. Whoever had turned her into a swan knew which animals to associate with which people. You also needed to have a word with them though. 

“Okay Jinhsi I need you to calm down for this though okay?”

“O-okay”, Jinhsi tried to sit down next to you, but it looked a little clumsy. She really did not belong into the body of a swan. 

“Just relax, and lean against me”, you started petting her head, and she really seemed to relax at your touch. 

“This is not going to take long don’t worry I will fix this”, your soothing voice was indeed making Jinhsi a little sleepy. She should really take more breaks from her work. She wishes she could, but for now, your touch and your soothing voice were enough for her to take a break. 

Before she knew it, she was already back in her human form, eyes still closed, and her head on your shoulder, sitting next to you on your kitchen floor. 

It hurt you to ‘wake her’ from her utterly relaxed state, but she should know that she had been transformed back. 

“Hey Jinhsi, you’re back in your normal state”, Jinhsis eyes fluttered awake, and her head abruptly lifted from your shoulder. 

“Thank you so, so much y/n, I will pay you back with whatever you need!”, she said standing up, and you got up as well. 

“Personally, I don’t need anything, I’m content with everything I have- unless…”, an idea formed in your mind. 

“It would make me very happy if you would stay a little longer, just to relax. You seem a lot like you need a break from all your duties. Would it be okay for you to just stay here with me and hang out a little?”, hoping Jinhsi would accept your invite as a way of ‘paying you back’, you blinked at her expectantly.

“I guess… it wouldn’t hurt to stay a little longer”, Jinhsi smiled at you.

Changli: 

You were out, running errands, hoping from A to B like there was no tomorrow, hurriedly wanting to head home again. You wanted to take your usual way, till you came across a very remote street in Jinzhou, which could possibly make your way home faster by at least 5 minutes. Without a second thought you took the way. 

Strolling through the empty street you felt watched, and you really didn’t want to act on a mere feeling, until it got too strong, and you decided to turn around.  You would have expected anything - really anything - except for a pink fox to be jumping on you, making you stumble back and fall over. 

“You know you really shouldn’t walk through dark and empty alleyways on your own”, the fox’ voice was oddly familiar…  “Changli?” “Took you a second”, usually you were a little intimidated by her, but now in her fox form she looked so… “You look so cute!”, you reached out your hand to pet her, but she was faster than that, and quickly jumped out of the way, to your dismay.

“I need your help, you need to transform me back”, it was barely even a question. But neither was it a demand. It was a little like she assumed that you would do it no matter what.  “How are you so confident that I’m able to help you?”, you just wanted to play with her feelings a little… you will probably regret that.  “I know what you are capable of, y/n. Now just- please transform me back”, she was very clearly embarrassed. Easy to know that Changli did not like asking for help. 

“Okay fine I’ll help you, but not here. Let’s head home first”

Arriving at your place, Changli expectantly jumped in front of you. As if you were going to drop everything to help her, which you definitely would, but you didn’t like her assuming that. 

“Okay now we can figure something out”, you kneeled down on the floor with her. “What are you implying?” “If you let me pet you, I will transform you back!”, you clasped your hands together.  “y/n you know that there are other things I could help you with in return…” “Yes, I know, but you look so fluffy!” After a very long moment of silence, followed by a sigh, Changli closed her eyes.  “Fine, whatever you need to do”

You almost jumped in excitement at her words, and also didn’t hesitate for even just a moment. You started petting her soft fur, and crawling her under her chin, and Changli wouldn’t admit it - not in a thousand years - but she actually really enjoyed being petted. 

You had long transformed her back, but was still petting her head, just to see how long she would take to notice that she is back in her original state. 

Suddenly a hand grabbed your wrist. 

Changli brought your hand down from her hand and held it for just a moment. 

“Thank you for your help, we are now more than even”, a sly smile on her face reminded you that the Changli you knew was back.  “Both your fur and your hair are very soft you know-” She flicked your forehead at that. 

[reyla-the-black-wolf]

My heart speaks for you (Part 1)

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

Pairing: Eris x f!reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: a bit fluff, slight angst, no other that I could think of

Summary: Y/n is the youngest child of the High Lord of the Night Court and lives a slightly different life than the rest of her family. But what happens, when an unexpected visitor enters the stage and decides to completely change her life?

Part 1 ⎮ Part 2 ⎮Part 3⎮Part 4⎮

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

The festivities were in full swing. All the guests wore breathtaking ball gowns and suits in every colour imaginable. And the shooting stars above us glistened like jewels from some long forgotten treasure. 

It was Starfall at the Night Court and our High Lord and his High Lady had worked hard to prepare this stunning ball. This year they wished to open Velaris to everyone, so all the other Courts were invited to enjoy this magnificent night. 

I stood on one of the many balconies at the House of Wind, gazing up at the wonderful night sky above me. The stars seemed magical as they came down one by one to greet us like old friends. I closed my eyes to worship this moment. The chatter of our guests echoed up to where I leaned against the marble railing. It cooled my skin, which was still hot and sweaty from all the dancing earlier. The sound of glass clinking, as people toasted each other. Sweet smelling pastries and other delicious treats hovered in the air. My mouth instinctively watered and I subconsciously smiled.

A lovely fresh spring breeze made my black silken dress swirl around my ankles. My hair stood on end at the sensation and I shivered. Taking a deep breath, I let the night-chilled air fill my lungs. I never wanted this tiny fragment of life to pass, as I enjoyed it to the full. Letting it sink into the deepest parts of my soul and surround me like a thick, cosy blanket. I could feel a warmth spreading all over my skin.

The fabric of my dress caressed my legs, as the wind brushed past it. It accentuated my body in all the right places, from my legs up to my hips and to my breasts. A silver necklace curled its way around my neck with a moonstone in shape of a teardrop set in the centre. It shimmered so brightly as if made of a star itself. To complete my look, I´d chosen some silver earrings. Also with a little moonstone. 

The Cursed Princess of the Night. 

That was my title. At least, that’s what other Fae called me. 

I opened my eyes only to pull back suddenly, as a tall, red-haired Fae stood beside me, watching the Starfall. Apparently I must have been under some kind of spell, as I didn’t hear the man approach me from behind. 

He was at least two heads taller than me and wore a dark crimson tunic with golden embroidery and a creamy white linen shirt underneath. The vest looked like it was made out of blood and the linen shirt perfectly showed off his toned muscles on his arm and chest. A few gold rings curled around his long, slender fingers. And his hair. I almost forgot how to breathe. His hair was a kaleidoscope of fiery colours. A blazing fire of red dawn and golden sunset. Neatly brushed back. He smelled of fresh parchment, rain and red wine. A warmth enveloped him, spreading until I could feel it shiver over my hot skin. 

I knew exactly who was standing before of me. The short, flaming hair. The lean figure. His exquisite attire. Standing beside me was the heir of the Autumn Court.

 Eris Vanserra. 

Apparently, I had let my eyes roam over his form for too long, for when I shifted my gaze to look at his face, he was staring right at me. I´ve never felt so exposed in my entire existence. He watched me as if he could peer straight into my very soul. I was in a trance, an comfortable feeling settled in my stomach. Cauldron! He looks like as if he was carved out of fire itself! All I could do was stare at him in awe. His handsome features. The sharp jawline and his amber eyes. A mischievous smirk played across his full lips, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. Blushing, I looked down at my feet. 

„What is a beautiful lady like you doing up here? Shouldn´t you be dancing with your family or perhaps with the guests?“ His voice sounded like a stream of molten gold. Delicate and charming, but with a hidden danger to it. I wanted to answer him. I really did. But… I just couldn´t. The words in my mind, but my mouth frozen.

When I didn´t respond, he tilted his head to the side. Like a fox staring at its prey. Something flickered in his eyes. Was that curiosity? 

„Pardon me, where are my manners? I´m Eris Vanserra. Heir to the Autumn Throne.“ He threw an elegant hand gesture in my direction and bowed his head. A few strands of his bright red hair fell loose across his forehead, giving him a cheeky look. 

„And you´re the Princess of Night, I suppose? Y/n, right?“ It was nothing but a statement. Of course he knew who I was. Not sure what to do, I just nodded quickly. 

Gathering some strength, I looked him right in the eye and then leaned back on the balcony beside him. My eyes were on the city below us. Velaris. He simply hummed at me, his eyes also sweeping over the City of Starlight. 

„It´s beautiful“, he commented, „but nothing compared to the view next to me, of course.“, his voice smooth as silk. I´d never met the Autumn Court heir in person, but I knew of his reputation. It was said he was a cruel and arrogant man. There was no trace of it now. Still I couldn´t help but smile shyly at his compliment. Daring a glance in his direction, I blushed uncontrollably. He stared at me again, a shameless grin on his face. What was going on? Normally, I´m not one to be flattered easily. Must be the alcohol… 

I smiled and nodded gratefully at him before turning my gaze back to Velaris. Enjoying the view of the city. My home. 

„Can you keep a secret?“ A hint of humour flashed across his face. I looked at him with big doe eyes, waiting for him to continue. „Starfall looks lovely, but in my opinion, it´s nothing compared to the Autumn equinox.“ A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. „You should visit it one day. Definitely worth it.“ He stared off into the distance, as if lost in a memory. He then began to tell me about the autumn equinox, about his brothers, growing up in his fathers Court. If anyone else had seen us, they probably would´ve mistaken us for old friends. Was I genuinely surprised that he shared such private details of his life with me, a complete stranger? Yes. Did it bother me? No, not in the slightest.  

I could feel myself relaxing as he spoke and Eris clearly didn´t care that I didn´t answer. He simply went on sharing his life with me. And I listened carefully to every word he said. Something about it felt quite intimate, as if he trusted me with his very soul. The man next to me, was the complete opposite of what others said about him. A ticklish feeling crept its way into my chest and somehow I knew he needed… this. Just two strangers standing on a balcony at the House of Wind. One talking, the other listening. He needed this as much as I did.

We remained like that for a while. Just the two of us, Velaris below and the stars falling upon us. Now surrounded by a comfortable silence. Eris decided to break it first.

„I´ve heard tales about you, you know? The cursed daughter.“ A pause. „Some say the Cauldron is to blame for your inability to speak.“ I stiffened at his unexpected honesty. „Why is it you can´t talk?“ A thousand questions sparkled in those beautiful eyes of his. It was nothing new for people to have questions about what was wrong with me. They made up all kinds of tales and theories. I was used to them talking behind my back, but I hadn´t expected him to bring it up. Always at ease with my condition, I was surprised, when something felt out of place. A sensation that had changed. But why? I didn´t even know him. Why would he elicit such a reaction in me? 

Feeling his eyes burning into my skin, I looked up at him, longing to say: I wish I could answer you. I truly want to! But I can´t…

Another expression slipped into his honeydew eyes. Sympathy. As if to tell me: I understand.

My eyes watered, but I didn´t mind. I felt completely lost in those cascades of liquid sunlight. Framed by his long lashes and fine wrinkles. Some others wouldn't even have noticed them. 

My star, where are you? Your mother is worried about you.

The voice of my father echoed in a corner of my mind, jolting me out of my trance. I blinked a few times, glanced at the door behind me and back at the man by my side with something, others might have called a pleading look. I have to go.

Eris understood and gave a deep bow. „It was a pleasure to meet you y/n. Princess of the Night.“ Something about the way he said it didn´t make me dislike that title.

I curtsied and spun around on my heel, sensing that this wasn´t the last time I would run into Eris Vanserra. 

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I spent the rest of the night with my family. Mor had a bit too much to drink, but so had her friend Viviane. They sat on the floor with Amren and Varian on velvet cushions, eagerly talking about some event, that happened recently. Cassian and Nesta were leaning on the great balcony, enveloped in each others arms, enjoying their togetherness. Uncle Az was watching the place, searching for any threats, as always. My father had told him, he had the night off, but why break with old habits. And then, there were my parents. High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court. Their crowns shone beneath the chandelier. Made of the most precious diamonds. Currently they were engaged in a lively conversation with Helion and some other Fae. Nyx, my older brother was next to them, holding a wine glass. His wings properly tucked behind his back.

I stood silently in a corner, observing the room. Every detail. The glittering embroidery on some of the ball gowns. The crystal glasses and the way the light was refracted in them. A scent from the pastries caught my attention and I took a deep breath. They smelled incredible. I was caught up in a maelstrom of iridescent colours as I watched the dancing guests. A whirlwind that carried me away and consumed me. A feeling crept over me as if something was watching me. Or rather, someone was. I scanned the hall, but found no one. 

Then a deep, nocturnal laugh snapped me out of my thoughts. My father's laughter. Seeing him and my mother so happy, made me smile to myself. I loved them dearly. But every time I saw them like this, something stirred inside me. A familiar feeling tugging at my heart.

Silent as a shadow, I sneaked out of the hall and headed up to my chambers. It was another wonderful Starfall, no doubt, but right now I wanted nothing more than to sleep. To swallow those rising emotions and banish them for the rest of the night. 

I quickly changed into something more comfortable and lay down on the large bed. Burying myself under the sheets, I soon drifted off into a deep sleep. 

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Grey rain clouds darkened the sky and a sharp wind tore through the treetops. Loose, broken leaves were blown from the muddy ground. I felt a piercing cold creep up my bare ankles, like a dead hand reaching for me. My tangled hair fluttered around my face as the panic trapped within my chest threatened to burst. Breathe! Breathe! My heartbeat rose higher and higher. I was dressed in nothing but a white linen dress, which swirled around my hips. The first drops of rain trickled down my pale cheeks. The wind grew stronger by the second, howling like an ancient spirit.

Breathe and open your eyes! My body screamed at me, but I wasn´t listening. Everything felt too much, when suddenly something soft brushed my thigh and the world stopped spinning for a moment. The gentle thuds of paws and a faint squeak could be heard. Slowly, I opened my eyes, only to be met with a fox sitting a few steps away. His thick, orange fur swirled in the breeze and his big, smoky eyes glistened with curiosity. He certainly was adorable with his black socks and the fluffy fur, his ears twitching. Squeaking again, he started running away from me. My body began to wake up, my feet stepping forward on their own.

I followed the little creature through the forest, trying not to loose him. Water splashed onto my legs, as I ran through some puddles. Fern leaves got stuck on my dress. The world around me, began to blur into a stream of pastel colours. A chaos of moss and olive-green leaves. Of grey sky and dark raindrops. Mixed with the scent of petrichor. The fox then slowed down and hid in a dark, narrow tunnel, waiting for me to follow. I took a few steps and stood at the entrance. My hand darted towards the shadows, but before I could to step into them, they consumed me. Suffocated me. Stole my air. My vision. And then slowly sunk into my very being…

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Sunrays shone down on my face. They tickled a bit and I scrunched my nose. A fresh breeze blew through the open windows and filled the room. The fine silver curtains swayed. I pulled the covers over my head, not wanting to stay up. But the birds chirping outside had other plans, so I kicked off the covers and got up.

As I was getting into a pair of black trousers and a bell-sleeved top, the entire house trembled beneath my feet. The birds were startled and fluttered away. What was going on? 

I quickly threw on some shoes and almost ran out of the room. Perhaps it was an earthquake? Hopefully nothing too serious. 

Moments like this made me wish I had inherited my father's wings.    

Hurrying down a long corridor, I made a sharp right turn and nearly stumbled down a flight of stairs. As I was about to pass another staircase, a certain darkness caught my eye. It spilled out from under a double door, which was decorated with intricate silver carvings. 

The conference room. 

Oh, yes. My mother had told me, that there would be a meeting with the other High Lords in the morning to discuss some new arrangements regarding the import of certain materials into the other courts and the continent. It didn't appear to be going well. 

An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach. As I walked towards the door, a low growl reverberated through the walls. Father. 

„Rhys, let us talk about..“ My mother was cut off. „No! I demand to hear it from him! Who is it?“ His sombre voice was full of wrath. What could´ve possibly made him so upset? 

I stepped closer, not sure if I should knock and disturb them. You could literally feel the tension.

„Rhysand, this is a business council. We´re here to discuss other matters.“ I believed, that was Lord Thesan´s voice speaking. A pregnant pause followed. I could almost see my father glaring at him. „Y/n. It's Y/n.“ I couldn't identify the voice. Someone was gasping for air and mumbled something incomprehensible. After that, no one dared to say another word. 

Why were they talking about me? What was going on in there?

„You are not worthy of her.“ He practically spat out the word. My father´s sudden change of demeanour sent a shiver down my spine. „That decision is not yours to make.“ Heavy footsteps echoed across the room. „Call off your dog, Rhysand.“, Cassian snarled as he was addressed like that. „No need for hostility.“, the voice sounded as nonchalant as it could be.

Eris. 

The darkness around my feet grew thicker. With no clue what had gotten into me, I grabbed the door handle and entered the council room. Not a single person noticed me. Just as I was about to close the door and step into whatever situation awaited me, glass shattered on the wooden floor.

„She is my daughter. You are not entitled to her!“ I could do nothing but watch the scene unfold. „Rhys, you don´t understand. Y/n is my mate. You can´t keep her away from me.“ The air was practically charged with lightning. A tingling sensation, that… 

Wait what?…What did he just say?… I´m his.. his mate?

The room seemed too small now. Time stood still. Even the dust in the air had stopped moving. I inhaled sharply. My thoughts were racing. Pieces of memories flashed my mind.

Last night on the balcony. 

His cheeky grin. 

Mor, a dancing flash of red. 

Stars sparkling above our heads.

A full moon shining as bright as ever.

My parents holding each others hands.

The stories Eris had told me about his childhood. 

I must´ve heard this incorrectly. We hadn't even met each other until yesterday. But now it made sense, why he acted so.. so vulnerable in my presence. I was his mate. He was my mate. I had a mate. This one sentence repeatedly ran through my mind. 

Unconsciously, my foot took a step back at the realisation and one of the planks creaked awkwardly. As if slow motion, all faces turned to me. 

„Darling, I´m so sorry. This wasn´t meant for your...“, my father stuttered, but I couldn´t hear him anymore. His Apology ended in a swirl of pure silence. All I could do was stare at him. Eris. And he looked at me. Straight into my eyes with a shocked expression on his face. „Y/n, I..“, he tried to step forward but Cass stopped him immediately. Someone then gently grabbed my arm and pulled me along. Away from this moment, that just put my entire life upside down. A familiar scent flooded my nose and golden brown hair waved in my vision. The last thing I remember, was the doors closing behind me, as my mother winnowed us to the living room.

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@tele86 @circe143 @impossibelle @st4r-girl-official @cherry-cin

[lidiasloca]

saw u write for harry potter i dont know if u do but could you write something about draco malfoy i find very little on tumblr of draco x reader thank youu

when you know, you know

draco malfoy x reader

fluff

a/n: send more request for harry potter characters pls loves

summary: a rare potion reveals Draco the name of the love of his life, and, after seeing his reaction, you are eager to know more about how he's made it (and who it is).

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It was sad being alone this very day, but you told yourself he would be back home as early as he could. 

You decided to wander through your house as you waited upon his arrival. The thought of seeing his greeting smile already made you overjoyed as you browsed through your messy room.

Your eyes stumbled upon something. It was utter boredom that gave you the urge to open your memories' trunk. It was yours and his secret trunk, filled of things that you didn’t use nor see ever, but you hold them so dear you weren’t able to let go of. 

You opened it and a small wrapped box greeted you. You remembered not seeing that before. But again, it had been a very long time. Curiosity got the best of you, and you proceeded to unwrap it gently. 

And there it was. A simple little flask. A piece of glass so ordinary to everyone. Everyone but you, him, and the walls of Hogwarts potion classroom… 

“What?!” you blurt. 

“I’m telling you, Y/N. Lena from fourth grade has made it!”

“How would a 14-year-old accomplish to make The Curious Hoax? It is known to be nearly impossible.”

Saoirse leans in, a cunning smile blooming in her face. “Exactly,” she whispers in your ear. “Nearly impossible.”

The Curious Hoax. But how?

“Students!” Professor Slughorn cuts your wondering instantly. You and the rest of the students follow his instructions, stepping into the Potions Classroom. “That’s it. Take your books. Careful, Ron!”

Lost in your thoughts, you look around. The room never seems to lose its charm. Cold and old stone walls isolate you from the warm Hogwarts you remember. It is nice, though. You’ve always appreciated the magical spell these shelves filled with all types of jars and potions have on you. 

“But how? I mean - you spoke to her, what are the steps?” you ask eagerly. The Curious Hoax had always been your priority goal since you’ve heard of it. It wasn’t only the rareness of the potion that called you to it. The reason of your interest was far more humiliating.

Your friend knows that. “Ah - you are now so interested, huh? Will you tell me why?” Saoirse asks mockingly. “Come on, let’s make a deal.”

“A deal about what?” You turn to the brusque voice next to you. 

Him, of course.

“Draco,” you say plainly, disgust running your tongue as you speak. 

But he takes no offense. The blonde boy turns to you, pride and sharpness in his piercing stare. “Y/N” You’ve never known if it’s simply the thrill of hearing your name out of his lips that sends your heartbeat to a high, or if it’s the sweetness in the tone he uses that confuses your heart. 

That is not the matter to worry about. Now, the only thing that matters is winning him.

“Oh, here they go again with the staring contest. What are you - eleven?” Saoirse asks, rolling her eyes and making Blaise chuckle. Draco turns to the joyful sound in an instant, giving a stern look to his friend. 

“You’ve lost,” you taunt with a grin once Draco turns to you. 

His eyes kill you with their intensified anger. “Shut up, Potter.”

You bite your lips, trying not to slap him. Or strangle him. 

Or poison him.

Your jaw is rigid with anger as you lock your eyes with him. It is a call to challenge. To defiance.To temptation.

“Oh, here they go again,” your friend complains. “Stop that already, Slughorn is talking.” You both ignore Saoirse. “Guys. Draco and Y/N will you please stop that.”

“Let them,” Blaise tells her teasingly. You take a mental note to gossip with Saoirse about the smoldering glace his given her. She’s been head over heels for the boy ever since you two were sorted to slithering six years ago and took a seat next to him. Him and Draco.

“You looked away,” Draco states, sneering. “You. Lose.”

You breathe deep, holding back the slap your body aches to give him. “Shut up, will you.”

“You shut up.”

“No. You shut up, Malfoy.”

“Shut up, the both of you!” Soirse yells. “You act like kids, I swear.” You watch in shock as the whole class turns to her rants. But she doesn’t seem to care as she angrily turns to Draco. “She was just asking about The Curious Hoax, because she’s spent her whole live daydreaming about the love of her life! Now shut up already!” And she stops right there, her eyes wide open, moving to find yours in instant regret as she realizes what she's confessed. “So that is that,” she mumbles, almost inaudibly.

You know you look visibly flushed as your eyes dart around, trying to hide your embarrassment. But acknowledging every set of eyes on you doesn’t help one bit. 

But what certainly doesn’t help is the obscurity in Draco’s face. “Ah, well - what an even more pathetic thing you turn to be.”

“Watch your mouth,” your friend barks in your defense.

“What? She can be this stupid, but I can’t comment on it?” he says. There’s still in his face a darkness you can’t quite understand. He is not being mean for mere rudeness. He is truly angry. But why for? 

You feel chocked up, your eyes on the verge of tears. No words in your personal defense seem to escape the chains of your throat. 

But someone unexpected is there for you. “Mr. Malfoy,” Slughorn says in a scolding voice. “What is exactly so pathetic in the will to make such an extraordinary potion? A potion that could reveal the one true love of the maker. Could you explain to the whole class, please?”

Draco is silent, anger with a hint of humiliation in his stupid face. 

“No?” the professor asks, monetarily turning to give you a friendly wink. You smile slightly, the pressure of before, now less crushing. “Then I take you appreciate its value all the same as your classmate, Y/N?”

“I-” the boy starts, but is quickly interrupted.

“Very well. Then, I have great news for you.” He turns to the class and adds, “Today, Mr. Malfoy will be the first to try it.”

Said boy swallows audibly. “Try what?” he hurries to ask. 

“Why - Making The Curious Hoax, of course,” he says evidently. 

“But-”

“Great! First, go take the cherry leafs…” 

… 

It’s been about ten minutes of Draco following obediently every Slughorn instruction in front of the class. A bit of ‘take this, put this, mix that’ and now, “The final step…” the professor said, happiness irradiating from him as a result of his love for this subject. 

You don’t know what surprised you more. How okay, even happy, Draco is with doing this, or that the potion is simple as this. You were told only a few people had succeeded in making it, but there he was Draco, one last step from making it.

You wonder, is he nervous? Excited to know who is the love of his life? 

You are. Of course, not for who is his love. Of course. You are nervous to find out yours.

“I must tell you,” Slughorn says to all. “The last step may seem frustrating to the ones who reach with their hand for the top of the mountain, yet happen to be farther than what they had expected.”

You watch Draco sight at the professor’s enigmatic words. The truth is, you had been watching him very carefully. It is not often that he was concentrated enough to not pay attention to your curious eyes set on him. And it is quite an opportunity and relief to be free to watch him from afar with no mean words coming your way. 

It is simply a relief to look at him, so lost in his inner world. 

“What is the last step, professor Slughorn?” the Weasley boy asks.

“Well,” he replies absentmindedly. “Once the ingredients are mixed, you must write on an ordinary piece of paper the name of the love of your life. Who you think it is. Only the correct answer will lead to the making of the potion.”

Surprised and disappointment fill the classroom and your heart.

“I don’t understand,” you say. “Then the potion makes no sense: You must know the very same thing you want to learn from the potion. If you knew already who the love of your life is, you wouldn’t need the potion in the first place.”

“Exactly.” Slughorn gives you a knowing smile. “The curious Hoax, Ms. Y/N. It is a hoax.”

You look around confused, but stop when you find his eyes on you. Draco immediately looks away, flushed, almost hiding from you.

Could today’s class turn out more odd?

“Then what’s the stupid point in making it?” Blaise asks. 

You realize Draco hasn’t said a word in complaint yet, which is shocking. Is he really interested in knowing his true love?

“Well, even being conscious about this last step, many wizards have spent years trying to make it, trying name after name, and the one’s that have made it claim that the potion is worth everything.”

“Professor,” your friend says. “I’ve heard that if you drink the Potion once it changes color, you will see your happiest memory with your love.”

“That I've heard before - yes. But I fear you shall check it for yourselves. Now, everyone around a table! You know the steps.”

“We are all going to try to make The Curious Hoax?” Ron asks in disbelief.

“Yes, of course, Ron, or do you expect to find out by me telling you who she is?” Slughorn asks playfully as he glances visibly to the girl next to Ron. Nor him or the now blushed girl, Hermione, miss that look. 

Everyone takes place and starts with the making. You try to keep some distance, but your curiosity makes you pick a spot on the table close to Draco. He seems determined to not look your way.

You don’t give much thought to that. The priority now is succeeding in this. You’ve always wanted to know who the love of your life is. Now you have the answer right in front of you. 

The little cauldron is almost entirely filled, every ingredient you’ve meticulously thrown into and mixed have now given their results. But not the ultimate result. The potion must turn blue to indicate it is well. And it will only turn blue if you throw into it the correct name.

Of all the people who could be, how on earth would you be able to guess. You realize soon, it will be impossible to make the potion go blu-

“Look! Draco’s made it! His potion’s turned blue!”

What.

You quickly look up to him. But he’s already staring your way. Eyes wide open in surprise, just like yours. Of course, guessing who his love is must have left him crazy. Making one of the most difficult potions must have left him crazy. 

This time, not like the others, his eyes don’t move. Like your staring games, he’s just there., looking at you as if the world around him was no more. 

“Very well done, Mr. Malfoy!” Slughorn congratulates. “Great! Great.” He grabs a simple little flask and starts puting the potion inside carefully. “And… here you go. Consider yourself a very lucky boy, Draco. Not many in this world will have the opportunity to visit his happiest memory as you do.” And he hands the flask to the boy.

But his eyes are still on you. And yours are still on him.

Eventually, the whispers of surprise and disbelief of your classmates subside, and you chose to seize the calmness to walk to him.

“How?” you ask Draco. Most of the class had given up on the Potion. You were nearly about to. “How have you done it?”

He’s oddly silent, not even looking at you. He stares at the flask in between his hands. He hadn't drunk it yet. Maybe he didn’t want to. 

“Draco,” you call, and it’s almost like pleading. At that, he moves his timid eyes to you. He’s eyes seem lost, yet found. He was acting so weird. Was the truth of the Curious Hoax so heavy on a person?

“I just - I just did it. I wrote a name, and it worked.”

“What? Just one name?” you ask, even more shocked that what you were seconds ago. “How did you - what?”

He sighs, looking down at the flask again. Gone into his inner world. 

“Draco, please. It is the thing I most want. To know it myself. To make this potion.”

He looks up, finding your eyes with such gentleness it makes my breath caught. “Y/N.” Again, that sweetness in his tone. But now, more genuine, more vulnerable. 

“What?” you persisted eagerly. “What is it, then?”

He is silent for some seconds, then he puts his flask in a pocket of his uniform and moves to leave. You swiftly grab his arm before he’s able to. 

He says no word as he turns to look at your hand touching his skin. He says nothing as he absentmindedly lifts his hand up to yours, and almost like in a tender caress, traces its knuckles. It’s different from any touch you’ve felt.

Then he closes his fingers over the back of your hand and pulls it gently away. He doesn’t let it go as he takes a step closer to you. He is so close. So close. You watch his dark pupils, realizing you have no need to give a step back. Only an urge to take one closer. But you would be too close. 

You feel his warm breath before he closes his mouth, as if he was trying to suppress words trying to get out of his lips.

So you try to push him. “Tell me,” you whisper, and it’s so tender and soft it seems to convenience him.

“Y/N…”

He doesn’t continue, so you plead,” Please. Tell me, Draco.”

A soft curve of his lips appears then. 

Draco.

“I just knew exactly what to write on that paper.”

“But how?” you question.

And his lips curve slightly more. His smirk, now so close to you, is a memory you’ll hold dear for many years to come. Never had you seen him so… you don’t even have words to describe it. 

“You just know, Y/N.”

“Draco…” you start, still not satisfied with the ambiguous answer.

“When you know, you know.”

And then manages to smoothly slip away from you, walking away. But then he suddenly stops and turns.

“Y/N?”

“What?” you say, trying to understand his odd behavior. Trying to understand the smile on his face. 

“Please, tell me when you know. Don’t keep me waiting for too long.”

Tears run through your cheeks once the memories flow back to that little flask. That day. This flask. Draco.

Draco.

“You’ve found it,” your husband says, and you quickly turn to him. 

Draco is at the door of your bedroom, staring at you as if waiting for your reaction. The flask, it was his birthday present to you. 

“And here I was, thinking you would never find it there,” he tries to joke, but you clearly see he is nervous.

“Draco…” you whisper, but you are not able to form words. So you run to hug him. He catches you, firm arms wrapping around your waist. “My love, I’m so sorry. I’ve ruined your surprise.”

“So do you like it, love? And no, you did not ruin anything.” 

“Like it?” You move to look at him, making him see in your face how grateful you are. How much you love him. “Draco it’s perfect. You - you’ve kept it all these years.”

He smiles sweetly. “Y/N, that potion. When I drank it - I saw this. You and me, today. I saw myself holding you just like this, watching your beautiful face like you were the only thing in this world. I saw that when I was at a terrible point in my life, and it gave me strength to keep going. Seeing your eyes watching me as if you loved me, it told me life was worth living, it told me great things were to come. You were to come.”

Tears well in your eyes again at his words. “I was already there, remember?” you joke, grinning despite your wet cheeks. 

Draco smiles lovingly as he wipes your tears. “I remember, my love. You were always there, and I always knew - somewhere in my heart, I always knew it was you.”

-Chacters by J K Rowling

This is not proofread yet, but i wanted to post itttt. now lets talk: IVE JUST WRITTEN MY FIRT DRACO FIC WHAAAAT. im so happy, and expecting to write more harry potter characters yeees. plsss send more requests for harry potter, speacialy for short fics :) hope you like this one, and the rest to come. loveyaa.

[strawberrymilk-sunshine]

Yan overblotted malleus who kills his darling by accident, maybe loses his mind even more. Go crazy 💙

>:)

Warning(s): blood, death, hearing voices

The ink clouding his vision slowly dripped off of his face, allowing him to see clearly once more.

"What... what happened to me...?" He asked.

But nobody was there to answer his question.

Malleus stood up on his unsteady legs. Nobody's around, where are they?

And then he found everyone. Silver, Sebek, Lilia, and the two Shrouds were huddled around... something. He couldn't tell what it was.

When Silver heard someone approaching, he immediately stood up and drew his sword, but calmed himself when he realized Malleus looked like he was back to normal.

But behind Silver, hidden by everyone else, Malleus saw a very bloody body.

"What happened?" Malleus asked.

"You overblotted." Silver simply responded.

"There's no pulse." He heard the younger Shroud say. "And... I'm not detecting any brain activity either."

"S-shit... Ortho, c-could you try shocking them awake?"

"I don't think it would be of any use at this point..."

"Ah, how tragic..." Lilia said. "Malleus will be quite displeased."

"Why... will I be displeased...?" Malleus asked.

"Malleus! You're ok!" Lilia said, turning around. "Such wonderful news-!"

"Lilia. Why did you say I would be displeased." He demanded.

"...Malleus. I'm sure you're aware you overblotted, yes...?" Lilia asked. He floated upwards and placed his hands on Malleus' shoulders. "(Y/N)... they tried to help us calm you down as they've done with all the other overblot cases but..."

It felt like all of the noise was sucked out of the world. He heard nothing, except for what Lilia said to him next.

"Malleus, you killed them."

It's easy to keep a human alive.

Just use a bit of magic, and just like that they'll be ok.

Lilia had clearly lied! You were just fine!

A simple spell to heal your injuries, and one to help with... preservation... and you were just fine!

You were alive, clearly!

You still looked alive, and your body wasn't at all decaying, so you're clearly ok!

You have to be.

Malleus Draconia was always known as a strange man, people just never commented on it because he's big and scary and one of the most powerful mages in the world, but now... people were starting to talk about him.

They were starting to talk about how Malleus Draconia was a man who always dragged a human's corpse around with him. He called the body "(Y/N)". He would talk to them like they were alive, and he always expected a response, before saying something along the lines of "Oh, you don't want to speak right now? That's ok, (Y/N), maybe later."

Everyone was now more unsettled by Malleus than ever before.

"(Y/N), what would you like for dinner?" Malleus asked, sitting you down in a chair.

But you didn't respond to him.

"...my dear, I know you're probably angry at me for hurting you like that, and I'm extremely sorry about that, but (Y/N)... we can't go on like this." Malleus said, grabbing your cold hands. "I can't go one more day without hearing your voice."

And after that, he could have sworn you said something to him. He heard a voice in the back of his mind, one that resembled yours...

"I knew it. You're still alive." Malleus smiled. "So, (Y/N), what would you like for dinner?" It felt so nice to hear your voice again. "Oh, that sounds wonderful, my dear. Shall we discuss wedding preparations tomorrow? ... Yes, my thoughts exactly!"

Lilia, Silver, and Sebek were peaking into the room to make sure Malleus was doing ok.

They did not expect to see what they did.

He's talking to you like you're still alive, like you're responding to him...

"Father, what do we do?" Silver asked.

"...I don't know."

"Is there nothing we can do to prevent Lord Malleus from marrying a corpse?!" Sebek yelled.

"Well, his grandmother will surely prevent that, but we should find a way to help him with... this." Lilia sighed. "For now, I suppose we just... let this happen. And try our best to help."

Malleus looked so happy, dancing with you.

But you didn't look happy, dancing with him.

Your expressionless, dead face could not display happiness anymore.

But Malleus... he saw you looking happy as ever. You looked as beautiful as the day he found you.

To Malleus...

You looked as alive as ever.

[m-jelly]

I don't know if you've done this. 😅

Can I ask for a reader x Levi x reader? Not a twin situation just some spells practice by reader and this happen. And yes reader is a witch. It can be smut and not. I just love at how you Levi. And I'd imagine with the way you write him Levi would be super flustered having two of his y/n.

I don't think I have done this before, but I'll give it a go.

Kenko Panda <3

Magic love

Levi x fem!reader

Fantasy, magic, married, two readers (one is made of magic and you feel what it feels) comfort, being a couple, romance, spoiling Levi.

While practising some of your magic, you accidentally make a version of yourself made of light. The light you is just an extension of you, so you feel everything she feels. Levi sees both you and the light you, so you decide to spoil him a little.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a

@youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn

@bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza

@hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird @searriously

Light sparkled around your hands as you pushed all your energy into your spell. The sacred words you spoke sounded like a song that drifted so beautifully from you. Wind rushed around you as your magic intensified. It felt like something was being pulled out of you like you were making an extension of yourself.

When everything settled you blinked a few times and saw a shimmering light version of yourself before you. She glowed nicely and reminded you of the sun shining on a lake. When you moved, she moved also.

You reached towards her and touched her, it was warm and tingly but you could also feel your own touch. It was clear that she wasn't another you, but really an extension of you. So, it was close to astral projection, but you were awake.

You grinned brightly. "This is wonderful. You're me. It means I can be in two places at once and experience everything."

"Woah." Levi interrupted you and the light version of you. He moved closer and inspected you both. "You made her?"

You nodded. "She's an extension of me. I can feel everything she feels. Two bodies but one consciousness and feeling."

Levi caressed its cheek making you hum. "Did you feel that?"

You shivered. "Yes, it's like a tingle."

He smiled. "It's cute."

You tackled Levi into a hug causing light you to hug him also. "Thank you."

He stiffened up at being held by two of you. "A-Ah." He felt his head swimming at feeling two lots of breasts firmly pressed against him, so plump, so warm, so soft. "F-Fuck."

You looked up at Levi. "What's wrong?"

He looked down to see both you and the light you pressing your breasts against him and looking up. "I am having very naughty thoughts."

You giggled and kissed his cheek as light you kissed his other cheek. "You're cute."

He wrapped his arms around both of you and squeezed. "You're incredible."

You squeaked in delight. "This...this feels...wow."

He released you. "Nice?"

"Mm." You gasped. "I have an idea." You sat down and patted your lap. "Pillow."

Levi lay on the grass and rested his head on your lap. "Lovely pillow."

Light you sat on the grass next to Levi and began soothingly rubbing his chest. You tangled your fingers in Levi's hair and began massaging. The two of you harmonised in a song sending a magical vibration through your husband's body allowing him to relax and heal both his body and mind.

Levi released a long sigh. "This...this is...thank you."

You smiled. "You're welcome. We can both give you a massage too when you're ready though, don't want to rush this." You released a long sigh. "Plus, I don't know how long I can keep her projected. This is a first for me."

Levi reached up and lightly touched your cheek. "Don't push yourself."

"I won't. I promise."

"Good girl."

[fatecantstopme]

All My Life

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x wife!reader

Summary: Klaus wants to use you in his plans, but Elijah is terrified of losing you. Marcel makes a massive mistake that could end in tragedy for all involved.

Warnings: Mentions of death, mild cursing.

Despite his external levelheaded calm appearance, Elijah Mikaelson was filled with intense emotions that threatened to overwhelm him at any moment. Unlike his siblings, he'd learned how to bottle his emotions and bury them deep down. Very few people would ever notice the turmoil behind his deep brown eyes, but you always did.

650 years of knowing him certainly helped, but it was the 650 years of loving him that really did the trick.

"Hey handsome, what are you doing in the cellar?" you asked as you walked down the stairs.

Elijah held up the bottle of scotch he'd been drinking and offered it to you. "Would you like a drink, (Y/N)?"

You raised your eyebrow and shook your head with a sigh, but you took the bottle from his hands and took a drink. "Do you want to tell me what's bothering you?"

He took the bottle back from you and took a long drink. "Now why would you think something is bothering me?"

"Perhaps because you're sitting in the cellar drinking your weight in scotch? Anyone with two eyes would look at you and immediately know something is wrong."

He looked up at you and you saw a sea of emotions in his eyes. You kneeled down in front of him and placed a hand on his thigh. "Talk to me, Elijah."

"I don't want to burden you with my thoughts."

"Your thoughts are never a burden. I know you and Klaus had a fight. Was that what bothered you?"

He sighed and nodded. He never wanted to show his emotions in public, but it was different with you. However, his argument with Klaus had sent him into overdrive. He was incredibly angry and frustrated, but mostly he was terrified. 650 years of loving you more than life itself and he could lose it all in a single conversation.

You could see he was warring with himself over something. You were worried about him. "Tell me what happened."

"Do we have to talk? Can we just sit here and enjoy each other's company?" He asked softly.

"Elijah," you whispered, "as much as I'd love to sit here quietly with you, I need you to open up. I know you're not okay."

He sighed and reached for you, pulling you into him. You let him hold you against his chest for a moment before pulling away. "Sweetheart," you said softly.

"Klaus wants to use you to remove Marcel and his vampires from the quarter."

You looked up at him in surprise. "What?"

"You're the strongest witch we know, which makes you the best option for combating Marcel." He sighed. "But it's too dangerous. He has Davina and 100 vampires on his side. I don't want to lose you."

"Oh sweetheart, is that what you're worried about? Losing me?"

He nodded. "The risk is too great. Any one of those vampires could try to kill you and Davina may be young, but she's strong."

"I'm immortal, Elijah. They're not going to be able to kill me."

He shook his head. "Not any more."

You pulled even farther away from him. "What?"

"Marcel got several witches to help Davina break your linkage spell."

"How do you know?"

"Marcel requested several of the quarter witches assist Davina in a massive spell. My understanding is he wanted to break the link between you and Nikalus, with the intent of attacking him."

"Attacking an immortal original hybrid? That sounds like a fantastic idea. What is he thinking?"

"Marcel is aware Nikalus cannot be killed, however he can be desiccated via magic. I believe that is his plan. Niklaus will be out of the way and no one will stand between Marcel and his 'kingdom'."

"How do you know about this?"

"Sophie informed Niklaus. Niklaus informed me."

"And then he suggested using me?"

Elijah nodded. "In traditional Nikalus fashion, he did not suggest, he demanded. I do not want to put you at risk, especially now that you are vulnerable. We argued about it, which you already know. I've spent the last hour sitting down here enjoying this 150 year old scotch."

Everything Elijah had told you had you reeling. 645 years ago you had been gravely injured and almost died. If Klaus hadn't found you in time, you would have been dead. Once he healed you, he had a witch create a linkage spell, tying you to Klaus. Essentially, everything that happened to Klaus happened to you and vice versa. However, his immortality also extended to you. As such, you did not age, never got sick, and you'd live as long as he did.

Elijah had been irate when he'd discovered what Klaus had done. In part because Klaus had taken away your choice for immortality, but mostly because Klaus had chosen to tie you to him, despite the fact that he knew how Elijah felt about you. Klaus adored you and that has never changed. Elijah grew to accept and even appreciate Klaus's constant desire to protect you. You never had a desire to be a vampire, so the fact that you could spend forever with Elijah without losing your magic meant everything to you.

"Klaus is willing to risk my life?" you asked in surprise.

"Of course not," Elijah stated. "He insisted that you'll be perfectly fine, but he cannot assure that. And there is the issue of the linkage spell...we don't know the ramifications of breaking it."

You sighed. "I can always reinstitute a linkage spell...perhaps even using you this time around."

Elijah looked at you in a strange manner and you were struggling to determine what he was thinking. "Elijah? What aren't you telling me?"

"You can't do the linkage spell."

"Why not?"

"The spell was very complex and as such certain things were required to conduct it."

"Certain things?"

"Niklaus never wanted you to know what it took to perform the spell." He sighed, clearly wishing he didn't have to tell you either. "The witch who created it used expression. And the complexity of the spell required the creation of an expression triangle in order to channel the energy needed to complete the spell."

You sat in a stunned silence. That may not have meant much to Klaus, but it meant a lot to you. "Did you know?" you whispered.

"(Y/N)..."

"Elijah. Did you know?"

He sighed. "Yes, I knew."

You closed your eyes. The weight of what he was saying was overwhelming. Klaus had killed 36 people just to link you to him. You would have rather died or even become a vampire over murder. "We can't do that, Elijah. It should have never been done in the first place. Expression magic is powerful, but dangerous. Klaus shouldn't have ever done this to me."

"If he hadn't, I wouldn't have been able to spend the last 645 years with you."

"Oh, Elijah. I know, I know." You grabbed his hand and kissed his knuckles gently. "We'll figure this out. And while I'm pissed at Klaus, I can't let Marcel hurt him."

"(Y/N), Marcel had you unlinked so he could go after Nikalus without harming you. I don't think he understood what it would mean or how the spell was completed all those centuries ago."

You realized he was right. Marcel was trying to protect you. You weren't surprised by that. You'd been a mother-figure to Marcel when he was growing up. Even now, he still cared about you and you cared about him. "I can't hurt him, Elijah, but I can't just let him come after Klaus."

"Yes you can, (Y/N). My brother will be fine. We will find a way to bring him back in the future. He kept half of our family in caskets for centuries, I think he can stand being desiccated for a while."

"Elijah," you scolded lightly. "We will not stoop to his level. Besides, he has done everything he can to protect me for 6 centuries. I owe him this."

Elijah sighed. "You owe him nothing, my love."

"I owe him my life," you said softly. You touched Elijah's face gently and he leaned into your hand. "I know you're worried, but I am still extremely powerful. That much hasn't changed. I can take Davina and the other quarter witches, even the vampires won't be too much of a challenge."

"You're always so confident, so brave. I wish you didn't have to be."

You smiled. "Would you love me as much if I weren't?"

"It is impossible for me to love you more than I already do, but it might be nice to have a wife who plays it safe sometimes."

"What fun would that be?"

**********

Elijah finally agreed to follow you upstairs into the courtyard, where Klaus was waiting.

"Where the hell have you been?" Klaus asked, clearly annoyed at his brother.

"I needed time, brother."

Klaus looked at you for the first time since you'd entered the room. Your expression answered all the questions he wanted to ask. "(Y/N)," he began.

You held up your hand to silence him. "Don't. You don't get to speak to me right now. I am choosing to help you because I owe you my life, but after that, I'm done. Elijah and I will be leaving the Quarter."

"You can't leave!" Klaus protested.

"I'd like to spend the rest of my days, however many I have, with the love of my life. I have no desire to spend them fighting a war I want no part in." You had already begun to formulate a plan in your mind, a plan that would likely take a whole lot more power than you had to give.

"Rest of your days? (Y/N), we can do another linkage spell--"

"Brother, enough," Elijah interjected. "She has made up her mind."

"She doesn't get to just decide to die, Elijah."

"You never should have taken her choice in the first place."

Silence descended on the two men, both suddenly struck with the inability to speak. You stepped between them, magic flowing freely from you. "Fighting gets us no where. I won't do the spell, Klaus. I can't. There's no situation in which I would be okay killing 36 innocent people just so I could live. It's not worth it--I'm not worth it."

You could see how desperately Klaus wanted to argue with you, but his mouth remained shut. You turned your gaze to Elijah and you found yourself wishing you could relieve him of his pain, his sadness. But you couldn't. "I'm sorry, my love, but I can't abandon him when he needs me most."

Elijah nodded his understanding, always willing to trust you completely. He knew you were more than capable of making your own choices and he trusted that you would make the right one. He just didn't realize what this choice would cost.

"If you'll agree not to argue, I'll release you," you said sternly, looking back and forth between them. They both nodded their agreement, and with a wave of your hand, they found their voices once again.

"I don't agree with this," Klaus grumbled.

"You don't have to," you said pointedly. "You made the decision to rile up Marcel. You chose to make this city a battle ground. Everything from that moment forward is on you."

With that, you inhaled deeply and walked away from them, allowing the spirits to guide you where you needed to go. Steeling yourself for the challenge ahead and the ramifications of your own choices.

Elijah and Klaus both tried to follow you, but the boundary spell you'd placed around the building kept them from leaving.

"(Y/N)?" Elijah said softly, tears filling his eyes.

"I'm sorry, love," you said gently. "You can't come with me."

"(Y/N) you will remove this spell at once," Klaus said sharply.

"You should know better than to try and order me around, Niklaus." It had been a long time since you'd used his full name. He understood the full weight of it even before Elijah did. You saw his eyes widen and he began to beat his fists against the barrier as if he could somehow break through it with nothing but brute strength.

Tears filled your eyes as you silently said your goodbyes to them both, knowing this could be the last time you'd see them. Your gaze met Elijah's one last time and you saw the moment of realization cross his features. Tears filled his eyes and you saw the desperation pooling within them.

"(Y/N)," he whispered, voice broken. "Please."

"I love you, Elijah. Always and forever."

The moment the words left your lips, you turned away from them and moved down the street quickly, never once glancing back. You knew if you did, there was no way you would be able to do what needed to be done.

**********

"You just had to have New Orleans, didn't you? Couldn't leave well-enough alone?" Elijah asked angrily.

"This is my home, my kingdom."

"It was, Niklaus, but it hasn't been yours for over a century. Why couldn't you just leave Marcel alone?"

"I saved him. I raised him!" he bellowed.

Elijah just shook his head, heart too heavy to bother arguing further. "I truly hope this city is worth it, brother."

Klaus was silent, knowing full-well it wasn't worth your life.

**********

"Marcel!" you called as you entered the church. You were surprised to feel his presence here of all places.

Marcel appeared before you as if by magic. "(Y/N). What are you doing here?"

You gave him a pointed look. "I think you know why I'm here, Marcellus."

He winced at the use of his full name. You didn't use it in a condescending way, but in a motherly way, which only made it that much harder for him to hear. "You shouldn't be here," he said quietly.

"Perhaps, but I don't have a choice now, do I?"

"You always have a choice."

You shook your head. "He is family, Marcel, and I owe him my life."

Marcel looked down. "I'm sorry for breaking the linkage spell."

You sighed. "As am I."

Something in your tone scared him. When his eyes met yours again, he saw the emotions swirling in them. "(Y/N)?"

You gave him a tight lipped smile. "The spell was my lifeline and my strength. I'm going to die, Marcellus, and soon. So I might as well do it protecting the people I love."

Surprise lit up his face, but he couldn't move, couldn't think. He was frozen in place. He could feel the streams of power coming from you and it terrified him. He'd never believed you would ever hurt him, but he suddenly wasn't so sure.

Davina felt your presence and came down the stairs, trying to fight against your power, but she was no match for you. Marcel tried to call out to her, to tell her to run, but he couldn't. Davina cried out in pain, her body dropping to the ground, hands holding her head.

All over the city, witches were dropping to the ground and screaming in agony. It lasted for mere moments before every single one of them suddenly fell silent, bodies collapsed on the unforgiving ground, minds unconscious.

Your eyes flicked back to Marcel. "You have to understand, Marcellus. I have to protect them." Not just Klaus and Elijah, but the witches too. You would not let them die at the hands of your family.

He looked at you, eyes begging you to stop.

"They will awaken, but they will have no powers. They will no longer be a threat, therefore they will be safe."

He had no idea you held that kind of power. He knew you were strong, likely a product of your age, but he'd never understood the depths of your power. Power that stemmed from your bond with the world's only truly immortal hybrid, a bond that was now broken.

"I will not kill your friends, the vampires. But I will issue a single warning. A warning which must be heeded by all who hear it." You closed your eyes and called out to every vampire in all of New Orleans. Each one of them heard your voice ring out in their head, "You are given a choice, children of the night. Leave New Orleans by first light or die by nightfall tomorrow. None will be spared."

The moment the words had left your lips, you dropped to the ground, breathing heavily. You'd released Marcel from his hold without meaning to, but you simply didn't have the strength to hold him any longer. You'd had a feeling that breaking the linkage spell would do more damage than any of you had hoped, and it appeared you were right. You could feel the end nearing, your body was dying, the power that had kept you alive draining from you.

"(Y/N)!" Marcel called out as he crawled over to you. After what you'd just done, perhaps he shouldn't care, but he couldn't help it. He picked up your semi-conscious body and began to carry it to the place he knew he was most unwelcome, but he couldn't just leave you alone to die.

**********

"Elijah! Klaus!" Marcel yelled as he reached the entrance to their ancestral home.

Both men appeared almost instantly. Elijah saw your body in his arms and he nearly broke down. Klaus, on the other hand, was immediately filled with rage.

"What have you done to her?" he snarled.

"She did it to herself," Marcel said softly.

Elijah tried to get to you, but the boundary spell was somehow still in place.

"Go," you whispered, voice barely audible. "I can't hold the spell much longer."

Marcel stared at you and realized you were protecting him...one last time. He didn't want to go, couldn't say goodbye. There was so much he wanted to say, but there was no time. He had to go, whether he wanted to or not. "I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he whispered as he gingerly placed you on the ground.

"I know," you murmured in return.

He looked at the two furious vampires locked within the walls of their home and knew he couldn't stay. Not if he wanted to live. He gave you one last look of sorrow before disappearing into the wind.

You gave Marcel as much of a head start as you could, knowing he would need it. "Don't follow him," you whispered, eyes locking on Klaus's.

"This is his fault," he said angrily.

"It's not," you paused to catch your breath. "Do not chase him. Just let him go. For me."

Both Klaus and Elijah were silent.

"Give me your word."

"I give you my word," Elijah said softly.

You knew without a doubt that he would keep it, but you needed to hear Klaus give his as well. "Klaus?"

He stubbornly looked away.

"Consider it my dying wish, if you must."

That got his attention. "You're not going to die."

"I am dying, Klaus. The longer you take to give me your word, the less time you have to say goodbye."

"Niklaus," Elijah prodded insistently.

"Fine. I give you my word, (Y/N)."

"Good." You released them and immediately felt a wave of relief. That was the last spell you were holding in place and the moment it was broken, you felt air return to your lungs.

Elijah was by your side immediately. He very carefully lifted you up in his arms and carried you to your shared bedroom, laying you ever so gently on the bed.

"There must be someone who can help her," Klaus insisted.

You shook your head. "Not in New Orleans, anyway."

"What? What did you do?" he asked.

"I bound the powers of every single witch in the city."

"(Y/N)," Elijah said softly, hand running through your hair to push it out of your face. "The power that would require..."

"I know," you whispered.

"Plus the message to the vampires? (Y/N), you don't have an immortal hybrid to feed off of anymore. You can't be using that type of magic," Klaus said.

"I'm sorry you both heard that. I didn't have the power to exclude you from the spell. It would have taken too much of my strength and concentration."

"It's okay, my love. Just rest. You need to get your strength back," Elijah said gently.

"My darling Elijah," you murmured, hand slipping into his. "I won't survive the night."

"Of course you will. You're strong," he insisted.

"Elijah, I can feel it. I'm dying."

He finally allowed the tears to flow freely down his face. It was one of the few times in the last 6 centuries of your life together that you'd seen him actually cry. It was enough to break your heart. "Oh, my love," you whispered as you reached for him, pulling him into your arms and holding him against your chest.

Your own tears streamed down your face, but you did your best to be strong for your husband. You knew what he could become without you...without his humanity...and you were terrified he would turn it all off just to keep himself from feeling this pain.

Your eyes met Klaus's from across the room and he looked just as devastated as Elijah did. His pain was different; he blamed himself, and perhaps rightfully so. "I must go," he said as he hurriedly headed for the door.

"Klaus," you called.

He turned to look at you, emotion clouding his face.

You had enough strength left for one simple sentence spoken directly into the hybrid's mind. "Protect him, Niklaus, always and forever."

Klaus looked down, doing his best to hold his tears at bay. He looked back up at you and gave you a firm nod, acknowledging your words and, in his way, giving you a promise.

You watched him walk away, a painful realization coming over you that this would be the last time you ever saw him. You looked down at Elijah and held on just a little tighter. You wanted more time with him...you would have given anything for it. You'd had more time with your husband than most people were ever lucky enough to have, but you still wanted more.

Elijah lifted his head and quickly wiped his face, regaining some of his usual composure. "I'm sorry, my love. I just...I don't want to lose you."

You nodded. "Nor do I."

"How long do we have?" he whispered.

"Hours, at most," you said softly.

He closed his eyes and breathed heavily. "Where do you wish to spend those hours, my love?"

You offered him a small smile. "I think you know."

He met your gaze and gave you a warm smile. "I suppose I do." He scooped you up in his arms and moments later you found yourself laid out on a soft blanket in the middle of the rooftop garden. You'd always loved this spot and you had many fond memories of your time with Elijah there.

"The sun will be setting soon," Elijah murmured as he sat down beside you.

"It will be a beautiful thing to see before I die."

Elijah swallowed thickly and you felt a pang of sadness. "Let's not talk of death now. Let's instead, reminisce."

You smiled up at him and you snuggled in close to him, wanting to be as close as possible for as long as possible. "That sounds wonderful."

You began to talk of some of your favorite memories, of moments you'd long since thought you'd forgotten, of adventures shared with those you loved. Elijah's favorite memories all had you in them, which both made your heart soar and ache in equal measure.

The longer you talked, the weaker you became. The sun was slowly traversing the sky, beginning its slow decent. You knew your time was short, but you couldn't bring yourself to say goodbye. Not to him.

As if he could sense your thoughts, Elijah pulled you even closer. "I would be remise if I did not tell you what is on my heart. I have no desire to have regrets."

"Tell me, then. I'm listening."

He sat up and faced you, taking your hands in his as he spoke. "You have brought a beauty and a joy to my life that I never would have had without you. You gave my life purpose, direction...meaning. You have my whole heart, my darling (Y/N). Always and forever."

Tears streamed down your face, having no energy to fight them. You didn't have words to voice your feelings, your love for him too intense for words. With what small amount of strength remained, you sent a wave of pure emotion straight into him, everything you couldn't say wrapped in a blanket of love only he could feel.

Silent tears fell from his eyes. "Please don't go," he whispered.

You pulled him back down beside you, arms wrapping around his large frame. You couldn't say anything, couldn't reassure him or comfort him. There was nothing you could do except hold him.

The sun had begun to set, painting the blue sky with beautiful shades of pink and orange. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" you asked softly.

"It is." His voice was clouded with pain, but he did his best to remain stoic for you.

"Promise me something, Elijah," you said suddenly.

"What is it?"

"Leave New Orleans. Leave Klaus. Go and live your life for you. You've spent far too long taking care of others. I don't want you to spend another 1,000 years putting yourself in last place. You deserve better."

He looked down at you and your gaze was so ernest, so pleading, that he couldn't find it in himself to say no. "I give you my word, (Y/N). I will not stay in New Orleans."

Your body relaxed against him, comforted by his promise. You knew there were plenty of loopholes, but Elijah would keep his promise to you. He never went back on his word. Ever.

"Will you stay with me?" you murmured.

"Always and forever, my love," he whispered back, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

Not long now...the sun had set and the stars were shining beautifully in the velvet night sky. Each passing moment brought you closer to the end. Despite your unnaturally long life, you found yourself unwilling to let go...you didn't want to die.

"I'm not ready to die," you whispered so softly that no human would have been able to hear you.

Elijah felt a pang in his chest at your words. The tone with which you said them nearly broke his heart right in two. "Nor am I ready to lose you."

There was, of course, another option. An option you had never considered before. You raised your head to look into his eyes.

He knew what you were thinking from your look alone. "I thought that was never an option," he whispered.

"We've never been in this situation before," you answered gently.

He looked away and shook his head. "I do not wish to make you a monster."

You reached for his cheek and turned his head back to you. "You're not a monster."

"Perhaps not in this moment, but I am capable of monstrous things."

You laughed lightly. "And I'm not? I just bound the magic of dozens of witches to protect one very immortal hybrid."

"You did that out of love. It's different."

"I beg to differ."

He shook his head firmly. "It would be unfair of me to turn you, (Y/N). You would lose your magic...your contact with the spirits, with nature. I could not take that from you."

"I believe it's my choice, is it not?"

"You need my blood, so I think it's our choice."

You sighed.

"I choose to protect your soul. I will not turn you."

There was such finality in his tone that you didn't even bother to argue with him. Besides, you didn't want to be a vampire. You just wanted to live.

He knew that better than anyone, perhaps because he knew you better than anyone.

The two of you laid there in a comfortable silence, sharing what you knew would be your last moments together. There was nothing left to say, nothing left to do. Neither of you were capable of saying goodbye, those words too difficult to formulate.

"Are you really just going to lay on this rooftop and die?"

You turned at the sound of an annoyed voice behind you. "Yes, Niklaus, that was my plan." You were surprised that he had come back, never one for goodbyes himself.

"I came up with a better one. Come, there's not much time."

Elijah stood up. "Brother?"

"Both of you, come on. We don't have time for an argument."

You looked at Klaus warily, using Elijah's body to pull yourself up. "What's the plan then, Klaus?"

"Just come with me. Please."

Klaus wasn't one to beg, so you found yourself stepping towards him on instinct. Your body had other plans as you began to collapse. Elijah caught you easily and pulled you up into his arms.

"See? She's already too weak to move. We're running out of time," Klaus insisted.

"Then lead the way, brother."

You found yourself being transported at an uncomfortable speed. The two men moved with the unnatural speed gifted to their species and you quickly lost track of your location. When you finally stopped moving, you were surprised to find yourself in the middle of the bayou.

"What are we doing way out here?" you asked in annoyance, an uncomfortable feeling settling deep in your bones.

"It was the only place I could find a witch who still had their magic," Klaus said.

"He's lucky I owe him or he likely would have gotten a stake to the heart for his troubles," a new voice said from behind you.

Elijah turned around to face the newcomer, giving you a view of the woman's face. "Sophie," you said softly.

"What are you doing in the bayou?" Elijah asked.

"After I gave information to your brother, it wasn't safe for me in the Quarter anymore, so I came out here. Apparently it's a good thing I did," she looked pointedly at you.

"You know why I did it."

"Yes, but that doesn't make it right."

"Perhaps not, but it was a much better option than killing them," you said firmly.

Sophie looked down. She knew full-well what Klaus was capable of and he was certainly not above murdering every single witch in the Quarter just because he could.

"Why are we here?" Elijah asked softly, breaking the silence.

"To help (Y/N)," Klaus said simply, as if that explained everything.

That uncomfortable feeling inside you began to intensify. Something was wrong, but you were too weak to figure out what it was.

"How?" Elijah asked again, much more firmly.

"Sophie has a plan."

And there it was...plain as day. If you'd been in your right mind, you would have noticed it right away. The feeling of darkness, and of death, lingered in the air. An oppressive feeling that threatened to drown all those around it. You recognized the feeling from hundreds of years prior, a feeling you had never understood until now. "What have you done?" you whispered.

Klaus wouldn't meet your gaze and that alone told you everything you needed to know. Sophie looked equally uncomfortable, but she wasn't backing away, which meant at some level she was okay with this.

"Do you understand what you're doing?" you asked her directly. "How dangerous this kind of magic is? It will overtake you. It will kill you."

Sophie shook her head. "I'm not afraid. Besides, I'm more powerful now than I've ever been."

"Then you're a fool," you said softly.

Elijah hadn't said a word, but the way his body stiffened told you he knew exactly what his brother had spent the last couple hours doing.

"Elijah," you whispered. "Take me home, please."

He heard you, but he didn't move. In fact, he couldn't move. He found himself frozen in place, as if he were bound to this very position. Even his voice was silenced, his mouth moved but no words escaped.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N), but you're not leaving, nor is Elijah," Klaus said firmly. "Sophie, begin the spell, please."

Sophie began an incantation you vaguely recognized. You struggled against Elijah's hold on you, as if you could somehow escape if he would just let you go. It was useless...Elijah's grip was like stone.

"He can't move, (Y/N)," Klaus said softly.

You looked over at Sophie, realizing what she'd done. "Let him go, Sophie."

She ignored you, continuing her incantation.

"They're all already dead, (Y/N)," Klaus said, forcing your attention back to him. "Do you really wish to waste their sacrifices?"

"Sacrifices?" you yelled angrily. "They didn't sacrifice anything, Niklaus! You killed them!"

"To save you!" he roared back.

"I didn't ask to be saved!"

"I couldn't sit back and let you die. Not when I was the cause," his voice softened. "I couldn't watch you die."

"If Elijah could, then so could you."

"Your death wouldn't weigh on his conscience for the rest of time."

"But it would stay with him, in his heart, for eternity."

"I am not my brother," Klaus whispered.

"That much has always been clear."

Klaus looked away from you, finding your gaze almost too painful to bear. "Use his blood," he said, addressing Sophie.

She nodded and you watched helplessly as she sliced open Elijah's skin, collecting blood from the wound on his arm before it healed in moments. She poured the blood into the bowl on the table in front of her and continued her incantation.

You felt a tingling sensation in your body, one that you had felt almost 650 years ago. The tingling turned into pain, just as you knew it would. Elijah's agony was equal to yours, but he couldn't so much as whimper.

"Please," you begged. "You don't have to do this."

Klaus shook his head. "It's too late, now. Finish it, Sophie."

Fire lit up the bowl, burning all of the contents within it. The fire spread around you, lighting up the pathways of a triangle only the dead could see.

When the fire disappeared, Sophie's chanting ceased, and you felt strength begin to return to your body, flowing through your veins.

Elijah's hold on you softened and he found himself able to move again. "(Y/N)?" he croaked. "Are you alright?"

You nodded. "Are you?"

He nodded.

The color had already returned to your cheeks and he could feel the power radiating from you, just like he always had. Clearly, the renewed linkage spell had worked.

Neither of you spoke, emotions too tangled in the moment. He gently set you down on your feet and you felt as strong as you had ever felt.

You walked over to Klaus and turned his attention to you. "36 people, Niklaus. Was it worth it?"

His eyes locked onto yours and you knew his answer before he spoke. "I would kill 1,000 people to save you, (Y/N). You are worth it."

You disagreed, but you knew arguing with him would make no difference. Instead, you turned to Sophie. "This is your only warning, Sophie. Stop practicing expression magic or lose magic forever."

Her eyes were darker than they'd ever been, confirming that she was already lost to the darkness of expression. "It's the only magic worth practicing."

You sighed. "It will kill you, Sophie. It always does." You shook your head. "You should leave...expression is not tolerated here, especially in such close proximity to the city."

"I depart for California in the morning," she answered swiftly.

You sighed again, turning your attention back to Klaus. "New Orleans is yours, Niklaus, but I'm done. I want nothing to do with you anymore."

You saw the look of pain flash across his face, but he covered it with his usual bravado. "Do whatever you want, (Y/N), but you'll be back. You can't stay away forever, especially from Elijah."

You looked at him in pity, words on your lips silenced by Elijah's first words in what felt like years.

"Wherever she goes, I will follow."

"What?" Klaus asked in shock.

"I cannot leave my heart," he said simply.

You turned to look at Elijah and were overcome with love and adoration for the man you'd loved all your life. He stepped forward and took your hand in his, the warmth you felt was nothing more than your imagination, but you didn't care. For the first time in over 6 centuries you were free. Free to go where you wanted, do what you wanted...just you and Elijah.

"Let's go," you said softly.

Elijah simply nodded and fell into step beside you, ignoring the shocked expression on his brother's face, as well as the words streaming from his mouth. "You won't last a year without me! You'll be back, both of you. You need me."

You walked away without looking back. It's not that you didn't love Klaus, that you didn't care, you were simply angry and hurt. The combination of which gave you the strength to walk away, to leave completely without any qualms.

Elijah scooped you up in his arms suddenly and you let out a surprised yelp.

"Sorry, love. I just figured this would be faster."

You laughed as he sped away from the bayou, heading back towards the city and the home you'd shared for so many years.

The two of you made quick work of the packing and then you were off to the airport, prepared to go wherever the wind would take you.

As always, Elijah used his abilities to get the two of you a private jet to anywhere in the world, so you chose Barcelona, a place you'd never been but always wanted to visit.

"Barcelona, really?" Elijah asked as he settled into his seat beside you. "You should have mentioned something sooner, my love. I would have taken you."

"We've never had the time, Elijah," you said softly.

"We've got all the time in the world now, my love. Just you and me."

"Always and forever?" you asked.

He grinned and kissed your forehead. "Always and forever."

[jeonjungkookenthusiast1997]

Seduced by Shadows

Summary: Y/N summons her demon boyfriend Bang Chan for a movie date night but things quickly escalate as the atmosphere gets hot and heavy.

This is my own work not a reblog! Please do not repost or translate.

Content Warnings: demon sex, magic used in sex, oral (male receiving), face fucking, cursing, pet names, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it up people!), established relationship, rough sex, breeding kink, marking, possessive language, shameless smut, fluffy smut, domestic fluff, porn with feelings, Minho and Changbin make a brief appearance, demon form during sex, cum swallowing, demon summoning, an attempt at comedy

Word Count: 4,914

Navigation

It's been a very long day at work and all Y/N wants to do now is relax and unwind, she's had enough of her bosses nagging her and customers walking all over her. She hurries home as fast as she can and quickly grabs some chalk to draw the all to familiar summoning circle placing a candle around each point.

Happy with her work, having done this many times before tonight, she dusts her hands of the chalky substance and runs upstairs to her bedroom to make herself look a little more presentable. She applies some light makeup, a simple red lip with sleek winged liner, and puts on a sleek form fitting black dress before kneeling at the base of the circle and whispering a small spell to summon the great demon prince Bang Chan into her home. Almost immediately the white chalk lines are replaced by vibrant blue magic and she can instantly feel the crackles and sparks that shoot off from it, a gust of wind sweeps around the room before settling back down leaving a beautiful young man firmly at the centre.

Once the dust settles the man walks out of the circle and smirks "hey there babygirl, what took you so long?" he rolls his strong shoulders letting the bones crack with each movement "almost thought you weren't going to summon me tonight" he pouts slightly as he offers a hand for her to take which she happily does as he pulls her to her feet ``sorry Channie got held up at work stupid boss wouldn't let me leave, came home as fast as I could" she smiles sheepishly at him.

He chuckles softly taking hold of her chin turning her face towards his own "it's alright babygirl no need to apologise" he wraps an arm around her waist pulling her close against him "you look so fucking beautiful tonight baby~" his other hand slides down her back caressing her skin gently "what's the plan?" Y/N sighs contentedly feeling the demons strong arms wrapping around her so tightly "thanks you're not looking so bad yourself" she giggles as she looks him up and down his red hair is styled up and out of his face, his dark eyes shine beautifully and the intricately decorated jacket he wears shows how regal he actually is "I figured we could have something to eat, maybe watch a movie cuddled under the blankets'' she gives his chest a tight squeeze "wasn't sure how long we'd have before your bodyguards show up but wanted to do something nice tonight… I don't know if you remember but it's been a year exactly since I first summoned you" she blushes slightly feeling a little silly under his brooding gaze.

He nods stroking her cheek lovingly finding her embarrassed blush so very cute "of course I remember that sounds perfect babygirl, we can order some takeout, I'll even let you choose what movie we watch" he winks playfully giving her ass a playful slap making her jump slightly and let out a squeak "after all it's been a year since the best night of my life" Chan pulls her in for a soft kiss before adding "as for the bodyguards, Minho and Changbin won't be showing up anytime soon" he murmurs into her ear "we've got all night baby~" he wiggles his eyebrows seductively, she giggles at the seductive look he's giving her "really how do you know? because I don't want them walking in on us like last ti-" he stops her sentence with a soft kiss and a low growl "that won't happen again, no one but me gets to look at my baby's body" he stares down at her possessively making a shiver of anticipation crawl up her spine.

Her gaze moves from his eyes to his soft plump lips thinking to herself how kissable they look, realising she's getting distracted she shakes her head of the thoughts starting to niggle in the back of her mind, she pulls away from his body slightly and grabs his hand leading him to her kitchen where she digs out some takeout menus to look through "where do they think you are Channie? surely they know your here with me again" she asks with a raised eyebrow as she hands him a couple menus to look through "I left a few tasks to keep them busy, told them they were of the utmost importance to keeping the realm safe" he chuckles as she gasps and pushes his chest "if they find out you're here they'll kick your ass" she shakes her head at his antics "I had to tell them something!" he laughs as he explains his thoughts "they can try and kick my ass but I am a prince of Hell, plus if they do find out you never know maybe they'll understand, they already know I have a soft spot for you babygirl" he winks and pulls her into a warm embrace "if by some miracle they DO show up I'm here to protect you, they'd never lay a hand on you" she sighs and rolls her eyes playfully at him.

She picks up a menu for a pizza place, basic but yummy and not too heavy, and nods towards the paper asking him to tell her what he wants "you're going to get in so much trouble for being here again aren't you?" she asks as she wraps her arms around his body burying her face in his clothes, enjoying the way his scent wraps around her making her feel safe and loved, he quickly points to a pizza he likes then curls his fingers under her jaw and presses his forehead to hers whispering "maybe but I don't care anymore even my father couldn't keep me from you, you're going to be my queen one day" his promise makes her chest tighten as he smiles enjoying their embrace before reluctantly pulling away to let her order the food. She takes the menu and orders two large pizzas with extra cheese and pepperoni. It doesn't take long for the food to get there so they gather up from blankets from Y/N's bed and huddle onto her sofa.

She turns on a movie she knows they've seen a few times before and cuddles into his arms as they eat. Y/N cuddles up to Bang Chan's side as he drapes a large fluffy blanket over the two of them, once settled he places a soft kiss on her forehead as they start watching the movie "you know, when I first summoned you..." at her words he turns to look at her face intrigued "I never could have imagined I'd be having domestic as fuck movie dates with the crown prince of Hell" she giggles as she teases him, he chuckles at her teasing "yeah yeah I know, I'm a big bad demon and we're watching fuckin' Bride Wars while cuddled on your small ass sofa" he jokes as he pulls her closer to him as he sighs contentedly "the shit you do for love" he smiles as he kisses her lips gently. The word 'love' makes her heart thud rapidly against her ribs "I love you too Channie" she returns his kiss eagerly.

He wraps his arms around her tightly as he pulls her closer to his chest "I want to spend every moment with you, to just lay in bed with you every night and wake up to you every morning" he kisses her hair softly "I don't want to let go ever, I can't wait for the day I get to take you back with me rather than having to leave you here alone" his words almost make tears of happiness well up against her lashes ``want to spend the rest of my life with you Chan" she moves her hands to her fingers wrap around his jaw as she pulls him down into a passionate kiss. He lets out a low laugh as he leans down to kiss her again "I want that more than anything babygirl and I promise as soon as I can guarantee your safety I'll take you to Hell with me" he says as he begins to nibble along her neck gently, his fingers moving to run through her hair as he pours all his feelings of love and affection into her skin.

She sighs softly as she feels his warm lips on her skin "I'll make sure you keep that promise" she replies as she moves the hair from her neck giving him more access to mark her body the action making him smile as he continues to kiss her neck and shoulders nibbling on the sensitive skin, he leaves small red and purple marks peppered over her neck and collarbone. As he moves one hand to cup her face and bring her head close to his so he could look into her eyes "you'll stay with me? Forever?" he asks as he looks deeply into her eyes. She nods her head "forever" she promises as she shimmies the blanket off her body as she climbs into his lap, she wraps her arms around his neck "let me show you how much I love you Channie" she kisses him, licking over his bottom lip with her tongue making him groan as he grabs onto her hips pulling her closer towards himself as their tongues dance together passionately.

His other arm wraps tightly around her waist holding her firmly against him as she bites his lip gently before breaking apart panting heavily Chan looks at her with love filling his dark eyes "my beautiful baby…" Y/N pulls away from his lips to kiss down his neck and jaw leaving her own little bites and marks, claiming him as her own knowing that his court would know who left the marks on their prince. Once satisfied she moves her hands down to unbuckle the belts tied around his waist, next she unbuttons his shirt and pulls the material off throwing it to the floor, taking a moment to run her hands down his exposed body.

The demon prince lets out a low sigh as he feels her touch sending chills down his spine as he leans back and closes his eyes enjoying the sensation of her hands caressing his bare chest. With each movement of her fingers he can feel the warmth radiating through his body enjoying the way her nails dig into his skin "so pretty" she smiles as she kisses down his body moving off his lap to sit on the floor between his feet. She runs her hands over his muscled thighs then settles her hands on his belt slowly undoing the leather material letting it also fall to the floor.

He looks down at her with an intensely lustful gaze as he bites his lip at the feeling of her teasing his body. Chan reaches down to run his fingers through the silky length of her hair as he feels his body reacting to the seductive touch of her fingertips Y/N moves her attention to Chan's hardening length, she applies slight pressure making Chan suck in a sharp breath as she plays with him "don't tease babygirl, it's been too long since I've felt your hands on my body" she bites her lip nodding almost obediently as she motions for him to lift his hips so she can tug his pants down. As he sees her motions he lifts his hips allowing her to pull his pants down with ease, as soon as they are down she licks her lips at the sight of his pretty pink cock a bead of precum dribbles over the head of his length.

Chan growls in warning as he sees her staring "what did I say about teasing me?" he groans "sorry baby just love your cock, so pink and pretty" she smiles as she leans forward to lick off the precum from his head, she gives teasing licks and kisses down the length of his dick. He groans low in his throat as she starts licking his cock, the feeling of her tongue running along his shaft sends shivers across his body as he arches his back slightly urging her to stop teasing him "mmmh.." he moans softly. His big hands flex and grip onto the sofa cushions "ah ah" she tuts as she uses her hands to push his hips down and keep them there "we're doing this my way" she smiles as he looks down at her not fully sold on relinquishing control however his the worry soon leaves him as his mind goes blank when she wraps her lips around the head of his cock giving the slit as few licks then moving back to soft sucks around his cock head.

As she sucks his cock head he lets out a shuddering moan her soft sucks aren't quite enough, he starts gripping the cushions tighter as he begs "mhmm.. baby, please" Y/N feels pride swell in her chest at his reactions to her touch but she wants to explore his body "wanna take my time Channie, we're always rushing because of your bodyguards" she flattens her tongue against the underside of his length using her tongue to lick at the veins running along his length, moving her right hand from his hip she spits into it before gripping his length giving it short pumps. His eyes roll back as she spits into her hand and starts applying sweet pressure to his dick, he can feel pleasure starting to spark in this body "you're killing me babygirl," he pants "please let me fuck you already" she simply shakes her head as she rolls her wrist tightening her hold on his length letting her hand rub up and down as her mouth focuses on the head, she gives him a few hard sucks before she starts to move him slowly down her throat licking anywhere she can as she does, keeping up the rhythm with her hand.

His eyes close as he feels her hands and mouth working together in perfect harmony, she's always been good at making him melt with her touch, but this is on another level. Her tongue feels so sinfully good as he clutches onto the pillows and moans her name, as she moves her head further down taking in more of his length she keeps a firm hold on his length making sure every inch of him is covered and pleasured as best she can with his impressive size. Her thighs start to rub together in a bid to create some much needed friction as wetness starts to collect between her legs, having him in her mouth and hearing his moans turning her on quickly. He feels every movement in her throat, every twitch of her tongue, every touch of her hand. He's almost at the point of no return, and she hasn't even taken all of him yet. He knows he's done for as she steadily takes his full length down her throat, the tightness and wetness of her tongue and throat making his length throb as a low moan leaves his lips and his hands shoot out to take a hold on her head.

Suddenly she pulls off his length completely taking a breath as her hand keeps pumping him, when she's gotten a lung full of air she takes him back down her throat to the hilt and takes a hold of his hands and pushes them into her hair making him take a hold of her "shit~ you sure babygirl?" he asks, she taps his thigh to give her consent as he starts to fuck her throat his hips thrusting up into her mouth starting slowly at first to let her adjust. She takes everything he's got to give, her throat working against him in a rhythm that drives him wild. Her hair slides through his fingers as he tightens his grip, his eyes closed tight as he fights to maintain control and not go too rough. He can feel his release building in his balls, the pressure building with every stroke of her throat, his grip tightening as the rock of his hips increases as he fucks his cock down her throat as carefully as he can.

She moans around his length as he takes control of her body, the vibrations flow straight to his cock making him choke out a loud groan "fuck...fuck... close" he moans out as his grip on her hair becomes almost bruising, she uses her tongue to lick against his cock as he moves faster down her tightening throat. He feels his orgasm building, and with a grunt he grips her hair even tighter, his thrusts becoming more frantic, harder, his breathing quickening. Then it hits him, with a loud moan of her name he holds her head firm against his body as he cums hard down her throat as his grip on her head loosens she slowly pulls away from his cock making sure to clean him clean as she moves away, looking into his eyes she licks her lips and any precum left on her fingers "you good baby?" she asks with a giggle as his chest heaves heavily.

His breath coming in ragged gasps panting for air he nods, letting his hands run over his face before looking back down at her and nodding slightly, "yeah I'm fine..." he says softly, "I think you just sucked my dark soul out through my dick" he chuckles as his breathing evens out. She giggles at his dramatic comment "glad you enjoyed it baby" she crawls back onto his lap as she nuzzles his neck with her nose, Chan basks in her loving attention for a moment before he grins at her mischievously. His dark eyes glow blue as his magic crackles into existence, he clicks his fingers and teleports them to her bed where he throws her down and crawls over her body with a predatory gaze.

He smiles widely when they arrive at her room feeling himself getting lost in her beautiful eyes, he leans forward and presses gentle kisses along her jawline before trailing them lower towards her collarbone, licking lightly "I've missed this, missed feeling you" he clicks his fingers again to leave her bare in front of him, he nudges his nose along her neck as he growls possessively "you smell so fucking good babygirl... smell like me" a shiver runs down her spine at his words she lets out a small whimper as she spreads her legs for him "need you Channie" she reaches her hands out to grasp at his body.

His cock hardens at her words, he nips at her neck softly and smirks a little "need you too little one, need to be inside you... I need to hear your sweet voice calling my name as you cum around my cock..."he reaches his hand down and groans as he feels her slick running down her thighs "so wet... I'll barely have to prep you" he smirks as he pushes two of his long fingers into her wet pussy making her moan out. His words have her walls clenching down on his thick fingers as they thrust up hitting the deepest parts of her body "don't need prepped Channie, I can take you please...please need you in me now" she cries out as her hands come to grip his muscled arms.

He pulls back sucking her essence off his fingers and growls hearing her beg before reaching under her knees and lifting them over his shoulders. He groans deeply as he enters her, stretching her wide, slowly pushing his cock into her, filling her so deliciously as her moans steadily increase in volume before he begins to pound into her with force, his lips crashing against hers with a savage passion that matches his movements. Her back arches off the bed as he sets a rough pace pounding her back into the bed as her eyes screw up from the immense pleasure "want you to call me by my birth name babygirl" he grunts as he re angles his hips to make sure his cock head is hitting her g-spot "want you to call me Chris" a loud moan leaves both of their lips as she clenches down on his length, she nods her head immediately moaning out his name "C-Chris~ fuck baby... you're cock is filling me so deeply" she chases his lips as he trusts into her.

He grips her asscheeks tight pulling closer as he continues to pound into her hard, his teeth bared in a feral grin as he speaks "always wanted to hear you moan my given name...had to wait until I knew you'd be my queen" he grunts each time his cockhead rubs against her g-spot. He growls out her name as he slams into her faster and harder, his breath coming in short bursts, his face twisted in pure lust as her pussy sucks him in greedily. Her bed starts to shake with every thrust but neither of them could care what her neighbours can hear, she whimpers and clenches down on him as he calls her his words "you like that babygirl? when I call you my queen?" he grins as she nods her head, her grip on his body tightening as he rocks her body back and forth.

He groans loudly as he feels her tighten around him, her walls squeezing tightly around his shaft as he pounds into her relentlessly, his hands gripping onto her thighs for support as he leans forward kissing and licking her neck "well I love calling you my queen because that's what you will be when we get married" he whispers between kisses, his voice hoarse from all the exertion as he lays his heart bare for her. Her cries in pleasure are making her throat sore but she can hardly recognise the pain through the immense pleasure shooting through her limbs "'m gonna fuck my babies into you, gonna breed you so every demon out there knows your mine" his grip on her thighs tightens, the skin turning red from how hard he's gripping her "need your cum Chris" Y/N cries out.

The sound of her cry sends shivers up his spine, his hand reaching down to stroke her clit in gentle circles "I'm going to fill you up babygirl, mark you as mine" he whispers before leaning down to kiss her lips passionately, his tongue sliding into her mouth eagerly "want you to cum around my cock~" he grunts as his fingers increase their speed on her throbbing clit. Y/N reaches her hands up to rest in his hair tugging roughly as he thrusts into her, she whines loudly as the pleasure of his fingers on her clit and his cock spearing into her g-spot have her eyes rolling back as she babbles cock drunk "g-gonna- g- gonna cum!~ cumming~" she cries as she bucks her hips up, thighs shaking wildly.

He grunts as she tugs on his hair and he feels her buck against him, her body trembling beneath his touch as she cums hard around his thick member, coating it in her slick "ohh fuck...you're such a good girl for me..." he moans softly, as his thrusts become erratic a familiar blue crackle fills the room as his regal red horns sprout from his head making her gasp, knowing his horns are sensitive she gives them a rough tug making his hips stutter into her walls.

He growls deeply in pleasure at her rough touch on his horns thrusting into her harder as he feels them being played with, making his eyes roll back as he loses himself in the moment "you're so fucking sexy playing with my horns like that...Y-Y/N... I-I'm…" she clenches her walls down hard as he gives her one last rough thrust before he's spilling his hot cum into her pussy, rocking his hips forward as he slowly comes down from the intense high she's milking from him.

He releases a ragged groan of pleasure as he spills himself into her feeling her tight walls clench down on his cock making him shudder with pleasure, leaning forward as he kisses down her neck groaning as he feels her soft lips against his neck "fuck...you're so-wet and warm around me…" they stay still wrapped in each other's arms for a moment as their breathing becomes less erratic Y/N winds her hands through his hair, brushing her fingers over his golden tipped horns with a small smile on her face.

A smile plays on his lips as he feels her hands in his hair and ghosting over his horns reaching up he wraps his fingers around her waist, tugging her closer to his chest as he nuzzles his nose against her own "I love you" a soft giggles escapes her lips at his feather light touches "I love you too Chris" the demon on top of her blushes slightly but smiles moving his lips to place kisses along her wrists, once his length has started to soften he pulls out of her slowly moving his body away to get a damp cloth to clean them up with.

Chan quickly and carefully cleans her up first then gives himself a quick wipe down before throwing the cloth into a nearby bin, he rejoins her in bed crawling over her body as he pulls her close his face inches from hers as he places light kisses over her cheeks then down to her lips. She returns his soft kisses sighing contently, he rubs his nose against her neck then he looks into her eyes "if you ever wait that long before you summon me again I'll hunt you down and make your life insufferable" he laughs as he gently pokes her side "didn't wanna disturb you in case you were busy with your 'princely duties' but couldn't pass up the opportunity to see you tonight" he hums at her answer "summon me anytime you want or need me babygirl, I'm all yours" he smiles as she gives him a tight squeeze.

A low hum rumbles in his throat as he holds onto her tighter, unable to resist the urge to claim every inch of her body. His lips are hot and demanding as they take hers desperately, their tongues intertwining together without restraint. Chan softly pushes Y/N into her bed and he's about to crawl back on top of her when the pair hear two very familiar voices pounding on her bedroom door "you in there Chan?" Changbin asks, sounding a bit sheepish, as a slap fills the space "of course he is, can't you smell them" Minho complains and she can already imagine the look of disgust on his face. Chan simply growls low in this throat "someone better be fucking dying" clearly not sensing the danger they're in at interrupting Chan the duo burst into the room "no one's dying yet… woah" Minho blinks as he points to Chan's clearly visible horns grumbling as he dodges a pillow thrown at his head by Chan.

The frustrated demon prince pulls Y/N behind his back and makes sure her body is covered completely before giving his friends his attention "demons are whispering about how long you've been gone man" Changbin speaks before hesitantly adding "the king and queen, y'know your parents, are demanding you return home" he flinches slightly expecting another pillow to come flying at them.

The sigh that leaves Bang Chan is one of defeat and annoyance "fine fine I'll get dressed and come back home" he turns to his pretty human with a frown " 'm sorry babygirl, I'll make it up to you, yeah?" he places a chaste kiss against her lips, he gives her one last longing look before he stands making the men quickly cover their eyes "you could've waited till we left the room ew" Minho tuts as Changbin laughs silently "you two" Chan points between them "wanted me to hurry and I was clearly very busy before you teleported here" an amused laugh leaves his friends as they both nod muttering a joint "clearly" while looking at each other with smirks on their faces which only works to increase the frown on Chan's gorgeous face.

Using his magic he quickly redresses himself and his lover allowing Y/N to stand and say goodbye, she gives him a long passionate kiss before muttering a soft "I love you" against his lips. With a longing sigh he responds "I love you too babygirl" he gives her one last tight squeeze before standing with his life long friends and bodyguards "a pleasure as always" Minho smiles giving her a small bow "same time next week" Changbin jokes earning a slap to the back of his head from Chan and a laugh from Minho and Y/N "bye boys, look after him will you?" she speaks sweetly, receiving an earnest nod from the two slightly smaller demons as she blows Chan a kiss and watches with a sigh as they disappear in a haze of smoke "see you next week" she smiles to herself as she flops onto her bed curling into her bed sheets surrounded by the scent of her royal lover.

Banner made by: @cafekitsune 💙

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Insert Your Name (4)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Tag(s): @guava-has-a-pen

Jade’s Signature Spell has several restrictions. The greatest variable about it is its rate of success. Only ten minutes after meeting with the captured thug, the four of you sit out in Azul’s living room with furrowed brows. Except Floyd. Floyd happily indulges in Azul’s expensive grapes.

“I didn’t think Moore looked like someone with a strong will.” You reach out a hand at Floyd. He drops a perfectly round, nearly black grape in your palm. “Maybe he was faking the terror? Or maybe the person who gave him Jade’s information is much scarier than a bit of persuasion from Floyd.”

“Looked and felt like a minnow.” Floyd’s jagged teeth tear through the fruit like it’s made of tissue paper. “His screamin’ was real, lemme tell ya that. Even if he’s scared of someone else, he probably thought he was gonna kick the bucket right then and there. If ya asked me, he woulda spilled even without Jade cuz he thought he was fucked either way. Kinda weird that he didn’t.”

If there’s anything you’ve learned from knowing him for this long, it’s that his gut feeling is rarely wrong. Intuition is his forte. But if that’s the case, how come Shock the Heart didn’t work?

“My guess is,” Jade muses with a hand on his chin, “there is a spell previously cast on him that can block mine.”

Azul considers it. “Memory wiping, maybe. Perhaps he really doesn’t know—or at the very least, doesn’t remember. Another possibility is a defensive spell cast on his mind.”

“Even if that’s true, he isn’t a mage.” You pop the grape inside your mouth. A sweet, delectable juice spreads over your tongue. “If he was, he would’ve tried to break out of those ropes.”

That’s a simple trap Jade likes to set. Without a magic tool like the mirror back in Night Raven College, it is difficult to tell who’s a mage and who isn’t. However, by using restraints that are not made of anti-magic material and relaxing security briefly, mages often reveal their hand with escape attempts.

“Maybe it was his boss or somethin’ who casted it. Y’know, to keep secrets from gettin’ out. Pretty nifty spell, if ya think about it.”

“Someone within the Carpenter Mafia, huh.” You curl up on the couch, pressed into the corner formed by its arm and back. “Guess we’ll have to investigate all the mages they have. Talk about time consuming.”

“Please leave it to me.” Jade places a hand on his chest, a reassuring smile on his lips. Reliable. Like a sturdy tree, or a nook in the cliffside. Someone you can lean on. Someone who can pick up your slack and watch your back. Trust given to Jade can only be from a naïve fool, a desperate person, or a wary one who has leverage on him or something to gain. Regardless, despite the fact that he is difficult to trust, he is terribly competent to make up for it.

“Will you have time for it, with all the other things you have to do? Like managing the mafia and the main story?”

“Please do not worry. If it comes down to it, there are tasks that I can delegate to other qualified individuals.”

Azul heaves a heavy sigh.

After a lengthy discussion, Azul all but kicks you three out of his house. You let Jade drive you home because you aren’t keen on sitting in Floyd’s passenger seat again anytime soon. Sitting in the leather seats of Jade's car, you watch as streetlights sweep by the glowing dashboard to a constant beat. The twins’ differing tastes are obvious even in their choice of car models. While Floyd prefers flashy sports cars that attempt to break the sound barrier, Jade prefers sleek, black ones that don’t make too much noise.

While Jade drives, your eyes drift to the night sky and your mind to the story. The next event is their second meeting. (Y/N) runs into him in the shopping district. Judging from the description in the manuscript, it’s on a street you frequented with her. Buskers at intersections. An ice cream shop next to an oak tree. A fountain with picturesque statues. You have a picture on your phone of her laughing in front of the water.

Does she think about you? If a friend suddenly stopped contacting her after being cornered in an alleyway, she’d naturally try to check up on them. That’s the selfless and considerate personality she has as the main character, after all. So why hasn’t she even texted you once? Were you truly even friends?

Of course you were. A kind person like her couldn’t fake affection. Those smiles she shared with you were definitely real. So then, why?

“You should sleep early tonight.” Jade suddenly speaks up at a red light. He takes the momentary break to glance at you. There’s an expression you can’t place on his face. Worry? No, nothing that strong. He looks back at the road before you can decipher it. “You’ve been stressed lately. I can brew you a relaxing herbal tea if you have trouble sleeping. It will guarantee you a relaxing slumber.”

“That makes it sound like I’ll never wake up if I drink it.”

He chuckles. “You can find out if you drink it.”

“Pass. Make it for yourself.”

“Perhaps I will. I often have difficulties falling asleep at night.” Unlike you, his insomnia is evolutionary. Moray eels are nocturnal creatures, and having grown up in the deep sea, day and night cycles took time to get used to. In the endless night of a place where sunlight cannot reach, circadian rhythms follow a schedule, not daylight.

“Doesn’t the story say you’ll sleep in the same bed as (Y/N) tomorrow?”

There’s only one bed. A common trope. This event seems to be shoved into the story, full of plot holes and reasons that don’t make any sense. (Y/N) is meant to lightly twist her ankle because of her endearing clumsiness. Jade will bring her to a fancy hotel room and tend to her wound there instead of bringing her home like today. Your only guess is that the story wants to showcase his wealth and influence. He can get a fancy room in a fancy hotel whenever he wants without a reservation. He can afford whatever her heart desires.

“Indeed.” Jade gives a half-smile. “Although I doubt it will happen. I find that I cannot sleep in the presence of strangers.”

Morays are cowards, Floyd once said. Ambush predators. They like hiding and darting out at prey or going after injured animals. Strong enough to have the confidence of living in a hole with no escape route other than the entrance, but careful enough not to chase down prey in open waters. Jade is more careful than most. You don’t think you’ve truly seen him with his guard down before.

“(Y/N) is harmless.”

“I am aware. It is only a force of habit.” His fingers tap lightly on the steering wheel. “I will stay until she falls asleep and then do some work. There is much to do, with so little time.”

You wonder if the increased workload has taken a toll on Jade. As competent as he is, he was suddenly saddled with the responsibilities of an entire syndicate and expected to run it with the same proficiency as his parents. His hobbies that he adores so much were all put on hold. There must be a mountain of pressure on his shoulders, but he never complains. Never one to show weakness. It is easy to exploit.

“You can give me more work. Just pay me and I’ll do it.”

Jade’s eyes flick to you, then back to the road. “How considerate of you. What are you willing to do if I take you up on that?”

“You can leave the investigation of the Carpenter Mafia to me.”

“Thank you for offering, but I would like to take that matter into my own hands. It concerns information about me, after all.”

“Then what do you want me to do?”

He hums in that way he does when he pretends to think. “How about guarding me when I sleep?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Didn’t you say you can’t sleep with other people around?”

“I said ‘strangers.’” A teasing lilt weaves through his voice. “You are my dear friend of many years. Surely, we are closer than mere strangers? I daresay we are even closer than acquaintances.”

“You really like bringing that up.”

“It is because you seem prone to forget.” The car turns into a side street. Houses pass you slowly. Your neighbourhood is quiet at this time of night. “If you were guarding me, I would not even mind sleeping in (Y/N)’s vicinity.”

“Don’t even think about it. I won’t be there.”

Despite the lighthearted tone of your conversation, you understand the undertone of his request. He doesn’t expect you to accept this responsibility. Instead, he is conveying a message: he trusts you. Enough that he’s willing to be physically vulnerable around you. When he’s asleep, you could slit his throat, press a pillow over his face, crush his windpipe. But he trusts that you won’t. Instead of attacking him, he trusts that you will protect.

But is that what he truly thinks of you? Or is that what he wants you to think that he thinks? How convoluted. Talking to him is taxing on the brain.

“Actually, Jade.” You hesitate briefly. “Can you ask (Y/N) about me? Or just, like, drop my name in the conversation.”

Mild curiosity fills his gaze. “Why do you ask?”

“Just do it.”

“I have no obligation to. But if you tell me, I might consider it.”

“Forget it, then.” It wasn’t important anyway. You’ll ask her once the story is over.

He pulls up on your driveway. The entire house is dark, save for a light in the master bedroom and in the entrance. You thank him and prepare to leave the car.

“Give your mother my greetings.”

You nod and wave goodbye. The car stays in your driveway until you enter your front door before driving off. It’s something you’ve noticed only he does. For safety, he had explained. He’s making sure that you’ve entered your home safely. You can never tell if he has some ulterior motive.

The first few things you notice when you step inside are the pill bottles left out on the counter. You take your shoes off and silently pad over to the washroom, returning the bottles to the medicine cabinet. Just as you put the final one in place, a voice calls out from the top of the staircase.

“You’re home late. Are you tired?”

A kind, familiar voice. You approach the stairs and look up to see your mother standing there in her sleepwear. The stress accumulated throughout the day melts away, temporarily forgotten. No matter how difficult things are, no matter how tedious the days become, no matter how much is on your mind—at the end of the day, you have your mother to return home to. Around her, you are just her daughter, without the need to be anything more.

“Hi, Mom. You didn’t have to stay up.” You ascend the staircase to meet her on the second floor. She gives you a warm, comforting hug.

“Nonsense. I can’t sleep until I know you’re home safe.” She pats your hair and lets you go. “Did you come home by yourself?”

“Jade drove me. He says hi.”

“Oh, Jade. He’s a good kid. Thank him properly, alright?”

A good kid. You almost laugh out loud. For one, both you and him are in your late twenties. For another, you wouldn’t use “good” to describe his character. But you don’t, because you don’t want your mother to worry. You only tell her the best anecdotes about the people around you so that she can rest assured you’re in good hands. She doesn’t know about your real job, either. She doesn’t need to. You prefer to keep things this way. She would never approve of a profession where you could get hurt.

“I will.”

She follows you to your room, where you start getting ready for bed. “What were you doing downstairs before I called for you?”

“You left your medicine on the counter again. I was putting them away.”

“Oh dear, did I?” She sighs and places a hand on her cheek. Wrinkles crease the skin around her mouth and the corners of her eyes. It is because I have lived a happy life, she always assured you, since I was lucky enough to have you as my daughter. “I must be getting old. These days, I often do one thing while forgetting another.”

“It’s a good thing you have me, huh?”

She chuckles. “You’re right. It’s a good thing I have you.”

When you lie in bed, your mother sleeping soundly in the master bedroom, you think back to Mr. and Mrs. Leech. To Jade and Floyd, who anxiously wait for a cure to that curse they still haven’t found the culprit for. Jade changes out the flowers by their hospital beds as soon as the petals start to wilt. Floyd bribes the hospital so that he can spend nights by their side. If your mother was in that situation, you know you would raise Hell on Earth. You can only imagine what the twins are going through. If they ever catch the assassin, you don’t want to know what will happen to that soul. There is no judgment against the twins here. You would do the same.

You don’t know when you slept, but you wake up before dawn to the sound of your ringtone. Upon picking up, Jade delivers two pieces of information.

Firstly, he fell asleep. And secondly, when he mentioned your name to (Y/N) last night, she smiled blankly and asked: “Who?”