The new guy next door (1)

Characters: Theo Raeken x male reader, Isaac x male reader (Mostly mentioned after the beginning)

Universe: Somewhere in Teen Wolf

Warnings: None yet

Authors note: Guys, it's that wonderful time of the year again: Theo Raeken Tribute Month! This time, I want to do something different, but I won't tell you what; maybe someone will figure it out. For now, I'll leave you with the beginning of a little story (I wanted to write it all in one piece, but I never could have finished fast enough, so now there's another miniseries).

As you sip your morning coffee and look at the house next door—empty for years and slowly deteriorating—you mentally list, as you do every morning, everything that has collapsed in the last few days and nights. You miss the family who lived there terribly. A family of four: mother, father, and their two sons. They moved away when the boys were teenagers, and you never knew why; even though they were your friends, they left the house, screaming at each other and their sons. The whole time, you held your husband's hand and watched them in fear.

Speaking of your husband, Isaac, he's standing in the kitchen, quietly preparing breakfast. Your house is always quiet in the morning until a gasp escapes you.

Isaac was immediately at your side, but you ran past him into the kitchen, ripping open the cupboards and leaving everything open to search for the baking utensils. Your husband watched you, confused. But he realized what had happened when his gaze wandered out the window.

Isaac shook his head with a gentle smile, walked toward you, and effortlessly wrapped his long arms around your body. He kissed your neck all the way up to your jawline. "I didn't know you wanted a new neighbor this badly." His tone was teasing as his hands moved up and down your stomach.

You exhale unsteadily and shake your head. "Isaac, don't interrupt me now!" you warned him playfully. "We're the only two houses here, surrounded by woods; of course, I want someone to live there," I tell him exasperatedly, my voice trembling. "You know I feel unsafe here alone, especially since you've started working for so long. Having more people here makes me feel more secure."

Suppressing your desperate attempt to bake cookies, you lean against his muscular body and place your hands on his large ones while he continues to caress your stomach.

Isaac's mood also turned somber. "I know, baby... that will change once I get that promotion. I'll be home more often." He slowly kisses my neck, his hands becoming more and more adventurous. "I promise you."

All you could do was giggle at his eagerness. Turning your head, you kissed him tenderly. "Come on, Isaac, let me bake cookies for our new neighbor!" You tried to free yourself from his grasp, but Isaac had no intention of letting go.

“Shhh… Let me make love to you,” he whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

In his arms, you become as soft as jelly; you sense a barely perceptible rumble from his chest before you find yourself lying on the counter.

Nearly an hour and a half later, you finally leave the house with a box of fresh cookies and a smug Isaac in tow. When you reach the house, which is now nothing but a fixer-upper house, you see someone in a tank top and a backward cap carrying things.

Just before you could call out to the neighbor, Isaac looked at his phone, his eyes widened and just ran, apologizing over his shoulder, telling that he has to go to work. You could only watch after him disappointment in your eyes.

Sighing in resignation, you turned to the new guy, took a deep breath with your eyes closed, and called out to your new neighbor. He doesn't answer, so you move closer, so close you can smell the sweat pouring from his visibly muscular body. He looks almost like a professional football player or a gym fanatic, and that makes your heart race, but his sweaty, musky scent, mixed with something sweet, only makes it worse.

It took you a moment to shake your head and tell yourself to keep your composure, but you couldn't deny that his body was very attractive.

At that moment, you saw your new neighbor moving in your peripheral vision. He jumped back in alarm; his fists rose in an obvious attempt to protect himself, but he quickly regained his self-control and pulled out an earbud.

"Can I help you?" His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. He's visibly suspicious but not unfriendly.

Red like a tomato, you hold out the box of cookies. The new guy tilts his head but takes the box. "I baked cookies for you as a welcome gift to our little piece of paradise," you say quietly, fascinated by his hazel eyes, which sparkle with interest.

He opens the box, takes a cookie, and bites into it. You stand there momentarily holding your breath, only to sigh as your new neighbor smiles contentedly.

“Shit, they’re incredible.”

You couldn't help but smile proudly. "I'm your neighbor, like I said, (Y/N) Lahey. My husband, Isaac, wanted to be here too, but he had to work..." I trail off, turn around, and look at the car pulling onto the street. "He's not home often, so it'll probably be a while before you meet him," I say curtly, smiling to hide my disappointment.

"Theo Raeken," he introduces himself, redirecting your attention to his gaze. He's nearly as tall as Isaac but noticeably more muscular than him.

“What do you do for a living, Theo?” you hear yourself asking.

"I'm a handyman...or at least I was. I just sold my late father's business, where we both worked, and bought this house to fix it up to live in peace."

As he told his story, he seemed fixated on Isaac's departing car, but every now and then, you could feel his gaze and a subtle grin crossing his lips. His cockiness seemed so casual that you felt like it came naturally to him.

“How old are you?” you ask him, confusion evident in your quiet voice.

“Twenty-two; my father died only six months ago.” Suddenly, his voice became softer, his gaze empty.

Your hand flew to your mouth in shock. "I'm so sorry," you mutter quietly to Theo, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "I didn't mean to bring up any sad memories."

It takes a moment, but Theo recovers, looks at you gratefully, and briefly holds your hand on his arm. "Thank you... it was a hard time."

Although it felt strange, given that your closeness already seemed too intimate, you lingered in that position a little longer to comfort Theo before finally pulling away and telling him you would be at your house if he needed someone to talk to.

You smile at him, stepping down from his porch, and apologize for your hasty retreat. On your way home, you looked back, waved, and apologized again.

Behind closed doors, you slipped down the front steps, your heart pounding, cheeks burning, and breathing heavily as memories of Theo burned in your mind: his sweaty neck, forehead, and the visible sides of his upper body through the large holes in his tank top. You waved your hand to fan yourself and sat on the floor for a few minutes.

When you could finally stand again, your wobbly legs having regained their strength, you went to the kitchen and finished breakfast. Isaac had paused to get intimate with you. But as you began to eat, you couldn't help but watch Theo at work, his muscles flexing as he carried objects. When he saw you, an arrogant grin appeared on his lips. He raised his flexed biceps and waved. Blushing, you waved back and giggled as Theo's bag fell to the floor. It didn't diminish his attitude. Instead, he threw it over his shoulder with a wink. When he finally went inside his house, you let out a frustrated sigh and shook your head, knowing somehow that the new neighbor would be a handful. [Masterlist]

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.57

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader, (OC) Callisto x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: Sweet-ish

(Callisto)

I'm just leaving Foàlan's room in the old magic academy and walk straight into Sebastian's arms—the building's head butler—who's waiting just a few feet outside. I force myself to smile, but it doesn't reach my eyes, as my mind is still stuck on the memory of Foàlan's weak state. My heart is still heavy. How could it be otherwise? His body appears shattered; vast scars cover large parts of his once smooth but hairy body.

Desperately, I wipe my face to hide the tears threatening to well up and lean on Sebastian, who, like every time I leave the room, has put his arm around my shoulders to keep me from collapsing.

"Your Majesty is doing everything you can to help him regain his strength. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself," the older man murmurs again. I can only breathe a sigh of resignation. He keeps trying to tell me the same thing, but I can't shake the feeling that I could have spared him most of the pain if I'd been a little more cautious instead of curious.

I gently pat the butler's chest, feeling the natural firmness of his muscles and the softness of his skin. "Is your body okay?" I ask him, barely louder than a whisper, afraid that my tears would betray me if I spoke any louder.

The butler nods contentedly. "Thanks to you, Your Majesty, I have regained my full strength, and my body is once again the person I used to be," he says joyfully, a broad smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "And this, despite the fact that you believed you didn't possess the powers of a golemancer," he adds sheepishly. "I clearly remember you telling one of the maids about it."

A quiet chuckle escapes me. I still remember how the stone Leviathan helped me save the maids and butlers from literally falling apart. But I think he knew that this power lay dormant within me all along.

"I was absolutely certain I didn't possess this ability. As a child, I tried hundreds of times to create a small golem to help me with gardening or serve as a training dummy, but it never worked." I fondly remember the many disappointed looks I received at court. Because of my naturally powerful abilities, many people had high hopes for me to become a golemancer as well.

"But now you do." The butler's voice is gentle, yet he squeezes my arms reassuringly. "And I knew from the first moment that you were special, Your Majesty."

“Why?” I hear myself asking because the butler’s words sounded strangely ominous.

There is a slight expression of shock and inner turmoil on his face before he closes his eyes and exhales quite heavily. But then I see a glint of resignation in his eyes as he opens them again.

“Please follow me.”

Although I hesitate—at least in my mind—I follow the butler, knowing that what he has to show me, as a loyal follower and servant of my bloodline, will not be dangerous but hopefully enlightening.

Although it is no longer a huge school—the extra space was just no longer needed—we still walk through the large mansion for quite a while. But as we walk, the building changes, almost as if everything the butler wants to show me is, for some reason, hidden inside.

Along the way, we encounter several maids and other butlers whispering to each other, their eyes full of hope and deep devotion. I feel almost like a saint or perhaps even a Leviathan. Their eyes make me feel as if I've just hung up the sun and stars.

Pride fills me as I smile back. It evidently relieves them of tension they seemed unaware of. Although they continued to whisper, it no longer bothered me because they weren't expressing criticism of me but rather gratitude and new hope for their lives.

When we finally encounter a heavy stone door, it appears entirely out of place compared to the beautifully decorated walls and the captivating carved wood of the surrounding area.

“Please place your hand upon the center stone, Your Majesty,” the butler asks.

Since he brought me here, I believe this place must have some significance. And since the older man has helped me so often in the last few weeks, especially with Foàlan, I do what he asks without much hesitation.

Almost instantly, the central stone breaks, and a bright gray light fills the entire hallway as the door—once two simple stone doors—pulses with magic. The doors shatter, revealing masterfully crafted stone doors that obviously took a long time to build and look similar to those in my family palace. All over the doors are images carved into the stone telling the story of the first Golemancer and his stone army, whom he loved dearly, and, on the other side, how they defended their master until his last breath, then crumbled back to stone.

“It depicts Derillian ‘the Stone,’ right?” I ask the butler.

"It does," the butler murmurs softly, touching the engraving. "Our master, Gillian 'the Lost,' created it. He built the academy when we all perished in a brutal fire set by your family's enemies, back when our homeworld was not yet united. He gathered our souls and came here to create a lasting legacy and show our people how important your family is to the world, which has suffered in the absence of his fairy magic," he explains to me in detail. "Gillian was the second true Golemancer in your family, while Derillian was the first. He once told me he often dreamed of Derillian, especially when he created new bodies."

"I remember that he died on our world when he was crowned the first true king of the entire planet, when the Black Hand organization was still known and feared."

The butler nods in agreement. Shortly afterward, he asks permission to open the door, a strange glint of nostalgia in his eyes. I agree, and he effortlessly opens those massive doors, which are at least five times my size.

Behind the doors, warm light illuminates a workshop. Setting a foot inside, a strange breeze suddenly hits me. "Did we just teleport?" I ask the butler without looking at him. My gaze is drawn to the many places where clay and stone can be molded or carved into hundreds, if not thousands, of different shapes.

"You are magnificent, Your Majesty." The butler nods at me. "Only the door is inside the building; this room is difficult to explain... Gillian knew your family better than most; he often murmured about a certain 'snake' who helped him create this place." As he speaks, he gently runs his hand over the richly carved walls. The room is neither a rectangle nor a circle. Strangely, the room doesn't seem to have a truly singular shape.

I try to look out one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, but there's nothing beyond it, just light. The glass feels cold, but I sense a certain warmth behind it. "Beautiful," I blurt out. "Every detail is magnificent, from the half-height walls to these magnificent columns, carved into entire cities and people yet part of the same stone... Gillian must have been a master of her craft."

"He was indeed," Sebastian says seriously. "I was his friend when we were children, and later, as an adult, I became his butler." He turns to me and smiles gently. "You remind me a lot of him, except for your lack of artisan blood." There is something playful about his tone. "You're both brutish men who pretend not to be the brightest to deceive everyone around you, and you both have something mystical about you, almost as if you are more than the rest of us."

"I pretend I'm not the brightest?" I ask, raising my left eyebrow questioningly. "Are you implying that my acting is flawed?" I grin at him with the same mischievousness as his tone a moment before has been.

"And the same cheeky attitude," Sebastian chuckles softly. “I tell you, I beat your ancestor a few too many times for that same attitude,” he threatens me, clearly playfully. "I may not look it, but I was once a dragon rider before I began serving Gillian personally."

"A true dragon rider?" I'm almost beside myself with excitement, but I try to stay calm. "Have you ever seen real dragons?"

"I did indeed, young fairy." His nostalgic tone suggests he won't say more and only underscores this when his gaze quickly wanders to one of the workbenches. "At this table, Gillian created all body parts of every servant in this household." His hand rests on a ceramic table. At least, that's what it looks like, but it feels strange.

I approach it, place my hand on it, and suddenly the table transforms. My eyes widen in shock, but my hand feels as if it's tied to the wood. I see the outlines of body parts, information about what's needed, and too much more.

"You see it too, don't you?" Sebastian asks, closer this time. "No one but Gillian can do it besides you. He described it to me once—" He trails off, but deep down I know it's not the end, as his hand strokes the table longingly. "This workbench was created under the gaze of the Stone Leviathan and your true family protector, the Serpent Leviathan. It can reveal what you need to create the body of a soul."

"So a soul waited for eons to reclaim its body?" Sebastian looks at me, amazed, stunned, and confused all at once; everything cascades down his face. "A man named Laikan de Araveollo?"

The butler's eyes widen in recognition as I mention that name. "He never finished his body." He tried to catch himself with his hand at one of the pillars, but he slipped. Shocked at the sight of the usually composed butler stumbling like a drunken fool, I summoned a stone pillar just to catch him.

"Who is this soul?" I ask Sebastian urgently. "It's not someone important, is it?"

“You know him; he is a legend, but better known as the ‘Silent Guardian,’ Gillian’s left-hand man and the military genius who was paramount to uniting our people,” he admits breathlessly.

All blood rushes from my head. I remember the name; our Royal Guards are trained in this man's image, and he is also the reason why only their battalion commanders are allowed to speak. But the worst part is, I know he's buried.

I'm about to say something when an echoing knock on the front door interrupts me. I bite my tongue, turn to the table, place my hand back on it, and quietly apologize. "I'll be back, Laikan, and next time, I'll try to give you a second chance at life, as you deserve as a legend."

I help Sebastian up and escort him out of the room. Outside, I just mutter one word, 'Close,' and the heavy doors, which look as if not even ironback tortoises could move them, respond immediately. They close slowly, and the same gray light reappears when they finally click shut, making them look like the dilapidated doors I'd seen before. In this state, they probably won't open at all. Say what you will about Gillian; he was a genius at hiding his secrets.

My attention is quickly diverted as a maid runs up from the front, a smile playing around the corners of her thin lips. She looks beautiful, with her wavy, auburn hair held back by a silver hairpiece. What really sets her apart from the other maids, however, is her dress, which, unlike the others, is navy blue and has a strange collar attached to it that covers all the skin above the natural cut of the dress and is the same shade of silver as her hairpiece.

"Your Majesty," she performs a perfect deep curtsy while still breathing quite heavily. "There is someone waiting for you in the foyer, a gallant and well-dressed gentleman—" Her smile widens as her cheeks turn pink—"In my humble opinion, he seems to wish to whisk you away, to carry you to the moon and the stars, just for one day, and only because you ask for it."

"That must be Callisto," I chuckle, knowing there's only one guy sappy enough to talk like that, but I can't help but smile. "He's such a charming twit, even though he always wants to seem aloof... I got really lucky, it seems." But she doesn't leave. Instead, she plays with the hem of her dress. She's obviously smitten with Callisto. I can't really blame her. "What's your name?"

“Marie, Your Majesty.” She curtsies again, but this time, her smile becomes a thin, afraid line.

"Follow me, Marie; I think Sebastian needs rest; he's been pretty stressed lately," I tell her as I walk. Soon, however, I hear her small footsteps following me until she keeps up with my pace but is one step behind me.

With confident strides, I turn a corner and see Callisto far away, near the front door. Even from a distance, he looks stunning. His hair is in tight curls, bouncing with every breath, a few strands hanging over his face. He wears fine black suit trousers that fit comfortably around his waist and thighs, while his torso is covered by a tight white shirt and black leather jacket. Sunglasses sit lazily in his left hand. What almost drives me crazy, though, is the way he chews gum. I don't know if it's the slow, calculated, powerful movements of his jaw or the semi-smug grin. “You look too good to be here for just a little visit.” I joke, trying to keep my voice calm, even though my heart is racing and my head is spinning in different directions than it should.

Callisto finally turns to me. I didn't think his pompous grin could get any worse. Yet here I am, learning more about him than I ever imagined, watching his grin become unbearably smug, even though the dimple on the left side of his grin makes him look rather cute.

He hangs his sunglasses on his shirt and puts his now-free hand in his pocket. "I want to kidnap you for the day," he announces loudly and so casually that I can hardly believe it. It almost feels like it's second nature to him, especially with his commanding presence that leaves no room for discussion.

I feel a faint blush rising to my cheeks, but I try to cover it up by looking away slightly. A small, surprised smile forms on my lips. "Oh, is that so?" My tone is teasing. "Can I say no, or are you going to… you know… force me anyway?"

Without hesitation, he clicks his tongue and approaches with only a few assured strides. He meets me in the center of the mosaic circle in the foyer, stares down at me with playful fury in his dark eyes, and brushes a strand of hair from my face, mingling it with the rest of my hair by running his large hand through it.

"You have no choice," he whispers hoarsely. A shiver runs down my spine. "Either you come with me, or I'll throw you over my shoulder." His hand slides from my head, over my ear, and then rests on my cheek. Before I know it, he's pressing a gentle kiss on my lips; my stomach jumps in my throat by the sheer surprise.

A tingling sensation like a million butterflies runs wild through my body. I've never felt such a tingling sensation in my nerves before. When he breaks the kiss, I exhale shakily.

“If you do that again,” I giggle fearfully, “I’ll crumble in front of my servant.”

His dark eyes flicker behind me, but not even for a second. "Wouldn't that be a scandal, my little prince?" He clearly teases, his lips ghosting over my ear. "Just imagine the headlines: 'The Prince of Stone publicly falls to his knees before a lesser duke.' Wouldn't that be incredible?"

Despite his playful tone, I clearly hear the innuendo in his words. My eyes widen, and somehow, I find the strength to slap his chest lightly. But I don't say a word. Instead, I look down at my hands and play with the hem of his black leather jacket.

For a long moment, we simply stand in this circle as I breathe in his intoxicating scent: a mixture of oak resin and his natural masculine musk.

As his hand cups my cheek again, he forces me to look up. I feel my heartbeat accelerate as I gaze once more into those dark eyes, which are glistening with admiration in the warm summer light that emanates from the outside.

Suddenly, something different is between us. I squint, but then my eyes widen as a gasp breaks from my lips.

"This one's for you," he murmurs from behind the flower, "a white, serene lily. I've been trying to figure out if—

I take his hand and carefully reach for the flower, smelling it; the sweet scent overwhelms my senses. When I look at Callisto from under my eyelashes, my heart stops briefly before pounding wildly in my chest. The look I catch is one of pure love. I quickly avert my gaze so he doesn't notice. But I can't suppress the blush rising from my cheeks to my ears.

“Say something.” His voice sounds almost vulnerable.

"It's beautiful," I admit. "But do you know what a serene lily means on my homeworld?" I ask somewhat concerned.

“No, why?” he asks, tilting his head sweetly to the side, almost like Brandon when he doesn’t understand something and has that puppy dog ​​look.

Giggling embarrassed, I hand the flower to Marie. "Please put it in a vase of mineral water and place it in my room."

“Of course, Your Majesty.” She bows deeply and accepts the flower as if made of glass.

Turning back to Callisto, I gently place my hand on his chest and give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. "It doesn't matter," I whisper against his skin. "Don't think about it too much."

Gingerly, I take his hand, walk past him, and pull him behind me. As I burst through the front door, a heavy summer breeze blows in my face, my hair flies everywhere, and my wrinkled button-down shirt flutters in the wind. But I look back at Callisto. His eyes sparkle with wonder and pure, unadulterated love, much more intense than before, his mouth wide open.

A little shyly, I brush my hair back and run my hand through it until it's neatly back in place, but he's still staring at me, squeezing my hand a little tighter. I've never seen so much love in one look, as if I'd become his world.

As the summer sun shines down upon us, I know deep down that life is only going to get better from here on out.

[Masterlist]

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.56

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader, (OC) Callisto x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: Too much sweetness

(Callisto)

My movements are fluid, my sword like an extension, my breath slightly visible in the rising sun, the grass around me ever so slightly damp from the night. I've been here for hours, unable to sleep again, my magic draining every minute of the day to aid Foàlan's healing. His body was still too weak to take him with me. My body is a wreck. I shouldn't have used up too many magical bubble reserves. But at the time, it was necessary. I haven't seen the Lord or Lady of the House so relaxed and happy since I woke up here. Their eldest will soon be back on his feet, and the second, at least, will still be alive with me.

I still remember the lady falling to her knees after I told them the good news. Her tears finally became ones of relief and happiness, not the sadness she'd been shedding for hours before. But I couldn't tell at that moment as I had collapsed in exhaustion. I still remember Callisto by my side. He caught me before I hit the ground and carried me to a bed. The fear and terror in his eyes still send butterflies through my stomach.

Suddenly, a certain heat surges through me. My neck and ears burn just remembering his chest and how he pushed me into it, hoping I'd wake up.

“What an idiot!” I hear myself muttering, completely flustered.

"I hope you didn't mean me," a playful voice called from behind me, followed by a feather-light touch. The calloused hand on my bare shoulder made me shiver, and I was left confused.

With flushed cheeks and an accusing look, I confront him. "How long have you been watching?" My sword rests at my side as I gaze into his smug eyes. Callisto looks handsome, every inch the high noble he is: a crisp white button-down shirt, tousled curly hair, and a gold-embroidered jacket slung over his shoulder. I can imagine his scent just by looking at him.

“Not long,” he comments, arms crossed in front of his chest, his smugness only increasing, “Only since the sun rose.”

My face twists, shock evident as I let his words sink in. "So you watched me sweat in the fresh morning air for an hour?"

"Pretty much," he says confidently, shrugging his shoulders and taking a few steps forward until he's standing before me. His hand, which had touched me earlier, moves from my shoulder up to my cheek with ghostly touches. "It was hypnotic; I couldn't look away." His words are breathless, soft, and tame; the corners of his mouth are curled into a casual grin, but his gaze betrays him: a deep longing, deeper than the oceans of Mereidia.

“Callisto, I-“

"I know," he whispers back. "We've all been fools, and I know I get jealous too easily." His gaze remains fixed on mine, a connection that makes my heart leap into my throat. "But when I saw Foàlan flirting with you back then, so naturally, so skillfully, and the way your cheeks flushed as if you'd absorbed every word, I wanted to kill him, kidnap you, lock you in a cage... But I know I should have just talked to you like you did in your sleep."

Deep embarrassment or fear of what I might have said makes me blush intensely. What if I revealed my realization that I love him and the differences between him and my first lost love? Or worse, how I want to climb him like a tree!

When I regain my senses, my gaze has fallen downwards, fixated on the ends of his jacket. Then, I hear that deep laugh—full of warmth and always carrying a slight undertone of natural arrogance.

Two fingers under my chin lift my head. I didn't mean to, but it felt like I was under a spell, a curse that made me melt with his every touch. "If only I'd known how deep your feelings for me were..." He mutters, trailing off, as if he is remembering something.

He's close... too close; his lips ghost over mine and his eyes flash as if he's daring me to pull away, to put some distance between us, or to take the final step.

I place my hand on the right side of his face. "Then what? I told you weeks ago I'd finally found the answer, but you didn't believe me and still thought I was seeing my first love when I looked into your beautiful eyes... but the truth is: it couldn't be more different."

Neither of us comes closer; the other remains suspended. I slowly and lovingly draw circles on his cheek with my thumb. Suddenly, I feel lost. The world around me seems to shrink until only Callisto and I remain, electricity coursing through my body. As I stare at the man before me, I finally realize what is happening. My tense body relaxes as I close my eyes, melting into Callisto's hand, which is still holding my chin.

I'm dizzy. I can neither breathe nor tear myself away from him. His lips are so soft, tasting of peach and mint. A smile plays on my lips as I realize he'd planned the kiss, but then I feel something shove itself into my mouth. I sense the foreign object in our struggle for dominance as our tongues try to find a middle ground and suddenly burst into laughter. Callisto separates us, his face a chasm of confusion.

"Am I such a bad kisser?" I hear him ask. He puts one hand on his hips and runs the other through his already messy hair. Honestly, he looks hot like this.

I shake my head, giggling so hard that I can't tell him what happened. So I move the gum between my teeth and show it to him. Horror flashes in his eyes as he visibly checks his mouth with his tongue.

“I’m so fucking sorry tha-“

I grin from ear to ear, press our lips together again, and brazenly move the gum back where it belongs.

As we separate, I see a hue of pink covering his cheeks, like the color of a newborn piglet. I place my hand on his chest again and feel his heart pounding—it feels like my own.

“Hey (Y/N), I have-“

Turning toward the voice, I frown because no one is there. At least, it seemed that way. Around a corner, I see a mop of hair. Do they really think we're that clueless? Still, I feel like teasing them. So, without hesitation, I grab Callisto by the collar and pull him down to my lips in a heated kiss. His hands quickly shot down onto my hips.

But just as things are getting really interesting, I move my other hand back a little. "Stonewall," I murmur against Callisto's lips. Immediately, a massive stone wall rises into the sky, effortlessly dwarfing the large mansion in the background, right at the corner where I spotted the mop of hair.

I kiss Callisto for a while longer until my breathing becomes too shallow. Finally, I pull away from his sinful lips and lay my head on his chest. "They're so nosy," I whisper. Callisto's chest trembles as a deep, hoarse laugh bursts from it.

“I would have been just like them if I had seen my friends who danced around each other for so long.”

“Yeah, because you’re sappy at heart, Cal.”

“Maybe, but you like it,” he says confidently, but his tone is playful.

Rolling my eyes, I keep my mouth shut because he has a point. Although I'm curious about how deep this sweet, romantic emotionality really goes, maybe one day I'll find out.

One of his warm, calloused hands finds my cheek, pulls me close, and kisses me again. His assertiveness alone makes my knees go weak. But when we pull apart, he's smiling so lovingly that I can't tease him any further. Instead, I hug him and let my head melt into his chest.

"We should probably stop. I've kept you away from school long enough; you should probably go back while I wait for Foàlan to feel a little better."

Callisto's chest rumbles as he chuckles. "Steal a few kisses and then send me away?" He asks in audible, mocked shock. "Absolutely not!" He laughs and pulls me closer. "I'll stay with you and keep you sane. I can't watch you drift away, collapsing under your fear of Foàlan not living this, even though you did everything you could to save him." He looks at me with concern and love. "I will never leave you in this state or any other. From now on, you won't get me off of you!"

[Masterlist]

★: Dylan O'Brien

| Sem enredo, só um boquete ~

P: 870

Sua boca fazia o cacete dele parecer enorme, e isso o fascinava. Sempre que você se ajoelhava, ele ficava tenso inicialmente, tomado pela sensação de que, a qualquer momento, seus lábios poderiam rasgar de tão esticados.

Mas era uma tensão fácil de desarmar, pois a contração da sua garganta era influente demais, fazia qualquer um perder as estribeiras.

A necessidade ensopava os olhos castanhos acima, já os seus transbordavam desde o primeiro reflexo. Sentira a umidade ainda no prelúdio, enquanto a bochecha esfregava no inchaço escondido. Ao ter a glande dilatada pesando na língua e o salgado da porra provocando o paladar, seu ventre agitara-se em ondas nervosas; uma emoção difícil de distinguir tomara as rédeas, seu pau começara a vazar, e lá estava você, todo molhadinho. Era instantâneo.

As coxas de Dylan tremiam, por vezes se fechando ao redor de seus ombros. Somente seu toque delicado nos joelhos dele, abrindo-lhe as pernas, era capaz de afrouxar a prisão muscular. "Ah! Porra!... sim, desse jeito!" aspereza e denguice ditavam a entonação das palavras gemidas. "Deixa ele bem molhado."

Dylan desistiu de tentar se conter e jogou os quadris para cima, estocando em sua cavidade como há tempos a tentação pedia.

Ele assistiu seus lábios inchados se esforçarem para acomodar seu comprimento dolorido, amando a pressão estranguladora de sua garganta o circundando. "Caralho… que boquinha gostosa!" no toque de seu nariz à virilha dele, um longo suspiro escapou da boca vazia.

Atolado por completo no seu poço esponjoso, Dylan abraçou sua cabeça com os antebraços, encurralando suas bochechas entre os bíceps e, novamente, encarcerando seus ombros entre as coxas, em prol de manter a cabeça do pau estagnada naquele ponto profundo da sua garganta.

Três coisas davam vivacidade ao cenário: seu engasgo expelindo gozo e saliva, o pulsar bruto do cacete na sua boca e os arranhões dignos de vergões que você depositava na parte interna das coxas fortes ao seu redor.

Sentindo que gozaria e crendo que bastava, Dylan enfraqueceu as rédeas, permitindo-lhe afastar-se para recuperar o ar.

Ainda que um tanto destruído, você garantiu que cada veia recebesse uma despedida majestosa. Dylan jogou a cabeça para trás, contraiu as pálpebras e lambeu os beiços sob a doutrina da sensação divina que era ter seus lábios macios deslizando para longe da dureza dele, devagar e com pressão.

Você enchia os pulmões com o pau de Dylan pousado em sua cara, saltando e lambuzando seu rosto com fios transparentes ininterruptos.

Permanecendo de olhos fechados, ele puxou um sorriso de canto, apenas imaginando seu estado, porque, caso se permitisse ver, não aguentaria. A realidade, na sua companhia, costumava superar qualquer fantasia.

A caça ao fôlego cravada por Dylan era árdua; acompanhava a sua. O peitoral robusto dele espandia o tecido branco da regata a cada inspiração, esticando a peça até transparecer e evidenciar a cor dos mamilos, que, inchados, te roubavam saliva à distância.

Captando na proeminência rija o calor denso da sua respiração, Dylan não pôde evitar circular a base do pau e guiar a cabecinha para dentro da sua boca entreaberta. "Passa a linguinha na ponta." murmurou rouco, enquanto pressionava o membro para baixo, enchendo, com a glande robusta, a concha moldada por sua língua. "Mostra pra mim como você é bom chupando minha rola… como gosta de me chupar…"

Antes de mover o músculo molhado, você esticou os braços e agarrou a cintura de Dylan, apertando as curvas singelas para ouvi-lo gemer e, por saber onde atiçar, ganhou o mais doce dos sons com o simples.

A manhosidade na voz de Dylan rendeu uma sugada tão forte de sua parte que quase fez a alma dele vazar pela uretra.

Felizmente, era só o orgasmo mais fácil que você já extraiu.

O formigamento característico fez o abdômen dele contrair, e o pau, junto das bolas, tremulavam. "Isso!… filho da… ah! Cacete!" Dylan engoliu a seco, inchou o pomo-de-adão e separou os lábios para liberar uma unidade de 'A' que se esticou até o duvidável.

Com os olhos revirados, ele finalmente disparou na sua garganta, esporrando jatos quentes e grossos, tremendo enquanto transbordava. O calor do seu interior e da sequência abundante que ele liberava o permitiam alcançar um auge quase alucinógeno, tão potente que, independentemente de estar exaurido, o deixava doido para foder, e foi como sucedeu; Dylan moveu o quadril e tomou ritmo de prontidão, metendo somente a ponta, rápido e errático, batendo contra a lateral interna da sua bochecha, sentindo a área esponjosa esticar e protuberar no exterior com o formato exato da glande.

Tudo isso enquanto gozava e gemia sem parar.

Quando o frenesi cessou, você lentamente abandonou aquele cacete que ainda solavancava em êxtase — lábios na ponta e bochechas inchadas devido a carga leitosa.

"Engole tudinho." Dylan sussurou enquanto normalizava a respiração, hipnotizando você com o sobe e desce do peitoral. "Isso…" usando a junta do indicador, fez regressar um rastro branco que escorria do canto de sua boca, quase gemendo a palavra ao testemunhar sua garganta trabalhando para levar toda a carga que ele bombeou dentro de você. "Agora sobe." bateu nas próprias coxas, te chamando para o colo dele. "Quero te beijar."

Ele queria se sentir em você.

★: Dylan O'Brien

| Sem enredo, só um boquete ~

P: 870

Sua boca fazia o cacete dele parecer enorme, e isso o fascinava. Sempre que você se ajoelhava, ele ficava tenso inicialmente, tomado pela sensação de que, a qualquer momento, seus lábios poderiam rasgar de tão esticados.

Mas era uma tensão fácil de desarmar, pois a contração da sua garganta era influente demais, fazia qualquer um perder as estribeiras.

A necessidade ensopava os olhos castanhos acima, já os seus transbordavam desde o primeiro reflexo. Sentira a umidade ainda no prelúdio, enquanto a bochecha esfregava no inchaço escondido. Ao ter a glande dilatada pesando na língua e o salgado da porra provocando o paladar, seu ventre agitara-se em ondas nervosas; uma emoção difícil de distinguir tomara as rédeas, seu pau começara a vazar, e lá estava você, todo molhadinho. Era instantâneo.

As coxas de Dylan tremiam, por vezes se fechando ao redor de seus ombros. Somente seu toque delicado nos joelhos dele, abrindo-lhe as pernas, era capaz de afrouxar a prisão muscular. "Ah! Porra!... sim, desse jeito!" aspereza e denguice ditavam a entonação das palavras gemidas. "Deixa ele bem molhado."

Dylan desistiu de tentar se conter e jogou os quadris para cima, estocando em sua cavidade como há tempos a tentação pedia.

Ele assistiu seus lábios inchados se esforçarem para acomodar seu comprimento dolorido, amando a pressão estranguladora de sua garganta o circundando. "Caralho… que boquinha gostosa!" no toque de seu nariz à virilha dele, um longo suspiro escapou da boca vazia.

Atolado por completo no seu poço esponjoso, Dylan abraçou sua cabeça com os antebraços, encurralando suas bochechas entre os bíceps e, novamente, encarcerando seus ombros entre as coxas, em prol de manter a cabeça do pau estagnada naquele ponto profundo da sua garganta.

Três coisas davam vivacidade ao cenário: seu engasgo expelindo gozo e saliva, o pulsar bruto do cacete na sua boca e os arranhões dignos de vergões que você depositava na parte interna das coxas fortes ao seu redor.

Sentindo que gozaria e crendo que bastava, Dylan enfraqueceu as rédeas, permitindo-lhe afastar-se para recuperar o ar.

Ainda que um tanto destruído, você garantiu que cada veia recebesse uma despedida majestosa. Dylan jogou a cabeça para trás, contraiu as pálpebras e lambeu os beiços sob a doutrina da sensação divina que era ter seus lábios macios deslizando para longe da dureza dele, devagar e com pressão.

Você enchia os pulmões com o pau de Dylan pousado em sua cara, saltando e lambuzando seu rosto com fios transparentes ininterruptos.

Permanecendo de olhos fechados, ele puxou um sorriso de canto, apenas imaginando seu estado, porque, caso se permitisse ver, não aguentaria. A realidade, na sua companhia, costumava superar qualquer fantasia.

A caça ao fôlego cravada por Dylan era árdua; acompanhava a sua. O peitoral robusto dele espandia o tecido branco da regata a cada inspiração, esticando a peça até transparecer e evidenciar a cor dos mamilos, que, inchados, te roubavam saliva à distância.

Captando na proeminência rija o calor denso da sua respiração, Dylan não pôde evitar circular a base do pau e guiar a cabecinha para dentro da sua boca entreaberta. "Passa a linguinha na ponta." murmurou rouco, enquanto pressionava o membro para baixo, enchendo, com a glande robusta, a concha moldada por sua língua. "Mostra pra mim como você é bom chupando minha rola… como gosta de me chupar…"

Antes de mover o músculo molhado, você esticou os braços e agarrou a cintura de Dylan, apertando as curvas singelas para ouvi-lo gemer e, por saber onde atiçar, ganhou o mais doce dos sons com o simples.

A manhosidade na voz de Dylan rendeu uma sugada tão forte de sua parte que quase fez a alma dele vazar pela uretra.

Felizmente, era só o orgasmo mais fácil que você já extraiu.

O formigamento característico fez o abdômen dele contrair, e o pau, junto das bolas, tremulavam. "Isso!… filho da… ah! Cacete!" Dylan engoliu a seco, inchou o pomo-de-adão e separou os lábios para liberar uma unidade de 'A' que se esticou até o duvidável.

Com os olhos revirados, ele finalmente disparou na sua garganta, esporrando jatos quentes e grossos, tremendo enquanto transbordava. O calor do seu interior e da sequência abundante que ele liberava o permitiam alcançar um auge quase alucinógeno, tão potente que, independentemente de estar exaurido, o deixava doido para foder, e foi como sucedeu; Dylan moveu o quadril e tomou ritmo de prontidão, metendo somente a ponta, rápido e errático, batendo contra a lateral interna da sua bochecha, sentindo a área esponjosa esticar e protuberar no exterior com o formato exato da glande.

Tudo isso enquanto gozava e gemia sem parar.

Quando o frenesi cessou, você lentamente abandonou aquele cacete que ainda solavancava em êxtase — lábios na ponta e bochechas inchadas devido a carga leitosa.

"Engole tudinho." Dylan sussurou enquanto normalizava a respiração, hipnotizando você com o sobe e desce do peitoral. "Isso…" usando a junta do indicador, fez regressar um rastro branco que escorria do canto de sua boca, quase gemendo a palavra ao testemunhar sua garganta trabalhando para levar toda a carga que ele bombeou dentro de você. "Agora sobe." bateu nas próprias coxas, te chamando para o colo dele. "Quero te beijar."

Ele queria se sentir em você.

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.55

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader, (OC) Callisto x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: None

(Callisto)

(Brandon)

Foàlan's gaze seemed strange, somehow teasing and challenging simultaneously, as if he were gauging my reaction. When I half-agreed, one corner of his mouth lifted into a one-sided grin that would have made even a Leviathan blush. It almost seemed as if he considered it a game. I know guys like that, all bark and no bite, only to then tilt his head to the side.

"You're damn handsome," he said so casually that my heart briefly stops. I feel my eyes widen at the compliment. I'm not easily flustered, but the overall situation, including but not limited to my frustration with Callisto, seems to make it easier.

"Thanks," I smile a little shyly and lower my gaze. I play with my fingers like a schoolgirl who just got a compliment from her crush. "You're not so bad yourself." I'm horrified when I hear these words fall from my lips. I want nothing more than to bang my head against the wall at this moment.

Suddenly, a tense atmosphere fills the air. "You can touch my chest." The offer comes out of the blue. Why would he ask such a thing? But when my gaze snaps back to him, I see a mischievous grin. "I know you want to," he whispers cheekily.

I can already feel the disparaging glances and put my hand over his mouth. "Did you have to say something like that in front of all these people?" I ask him accusingly, though I don't deny his claim. I can't. He's just too attractive for a man who's been asleep for years and whose physique is still flawless.

His eyes sparkle with barely concealed mischief. "Why?" he asks challengingly. "Would my little brother, your loverboy, get jealous if he knew you had the hots for his newly awakened brother?"

“(Y/N)!” Callisto’s suppressed, angry voice echoes through the room. I close my eyes and desperately wish to be swallowed by the ground. "Why don't we talk about why I woke you up?" I ask, smiling, but in a calm tone that still sounds commanding. Foàlan just nods but continues to grin.

"I've asked your family and they're confident you want to live, but I'd rather make sure because you would—"

“And why would you make that decision? Would you suc—”

I put my hand over his mouth again. "No more jokes. You don't have much time, and if you don't give me a decision now, I'll just let you die!"

Almost instantly, I see his expression darken. He nods weakly, so I free his mouth again.

“How bad is it?” he asks, visibly trying to understand his condition.

"It's bad," I say as I sit next to him. "So bad that I'd rather let you die in peace. But if you want, I can save your life, even if it would severely limit you for the rest of your life."

“In what way?“

I search for the right words while brushing a few strands of hair from his face that had fallen when he turned his head. "There are two ways I can do that, but either way, you will be bound to me for life. Your organs are as good as dead, your bones hollow and on the verge of crumbling to dust, and your body is alive only because you have a magical and an auric core that were activated during your expedition. Their collisions keep your body functioning, but that too has an end."

Uttering these words hurt my soul. It's difficult to live a life completely dependent on someone else. But what happened to him is an extraordinary circumstance that requires a difficult decision. "The first option would be to create a new body for you out of special materials. Your soul would be transferred into it, and with a part of my fairy core, it would become a living copy of your natural body, including the ability to reproduce," I explain succinctly. There are many more other things, but he wouldn't know about them anyway.

"The second option would be to repair your current body. I would have to infuse something called 'living metal' into your body to restore your bones. A healer, who owes a lot to my family, would come and help me repair your organs and, with my fairy magic, rebalance the minerals in your body. However, parts of your body would have to be replaced with identical copies, such as your heart. You would keep your current body, but at its core, it would be like the first option, since you could never live without me."

There's conflict in his warm brown eyes, a blend of Brandon's hazel eyes and Liam's dark brown, as if Foàlan were a bridge between the two.

"Are those the only options?" Foàlan asks, his voice less confident than before, clearly deep in thought. 

"If you want to live, probably," I mention somberly, "the Temple of Light might find alternatives, but even for them, resurrecting something dead is nearly impossible." I gently pet his head, hoping to take at least some worries from him. "With my methods, you can at least live a normal life, albeit not far from me."

For the first time, Foàlan looks at his parents, who are filled with tears. His mother holds her hand over her mouth and sobs quietly, while his father openly shows his tears. But Foàlan seems unfazed.

"I want to keep this body; it's served me well. I wasn't very close to my family anyway, always the forgotten one, less responsible than Liam, and Brandon was smarter than me before the incident. After the incident, it got even worse; our parents often forgot I even existed, having tried everything to bring back the old Brandon, even though nothing worked." Suddenly, Foàlan's eyes become determined. "I don't know what kind of man you are or what you'll accomplish one day, but it's probably better to follow someone than no one. I will stand at your side, fairy boy! Let's do this!"

He grinned confidently, his voice teasing, his gaze challenging. I laughed briefly. Despite his boastful manner, he has a heart. I nod, place my hand on his head, and whisper, "Tudomianux." His eyes closed, a smile spread across his face, and his body fell asleep again. I slowly remove the collar, and his color quickly returns.

As I turn to the others, my smile fades. "Well, this will be an expensive undertaking," I mutter, my heart filling with concern. "The metal I need costs more than Eraklyon produces in a year." I sigh, trying to think of a way to obtain what I need when my eyes land on Liam. He's staring at Foàlan and me in stunned silence. "Please tell me you're holding the spell while feeling like a fish out of water."

Liam shakes his head, ready to say something, but suddenly he pales. Shock runs through me as I turn to my lying patient. The magical glow is gone; half of his bones have already crumbled to dust.

“Damn it, I can’t save him anymore; we don’t have enough time.” My words send waves of grief through the room.

“Please, no,” I hear the lady of the house cries out.

I try to think of something that could save the poor man. But somehow, nothing comes to mind.

“You know what you have to do, even if you don’t want to,” whispers the voice of the stone Leviathan in my head.

"You're right, but I can't show them my abilities; it would shock them," I murmur. Despite my calm voice, I can feel everyone's eyes on me. "It is your decision, but remember that this young man's life is now in your hands," the voice finally said before falling back into its stony sleep.

Why does it always have to be me? Couldn't Stella, the fairy of the sun and stars, be confronted with such horrors for once? She can at least use healing magic! But no, the outsider who can't even handle everything he was born with gets everything thrown in his face!

As my turbulent thoughts deepen, I hear something in my head that sounds almost like the bell of clarity. The next moment, I realize the situation I'm in. With a reluctant sigh, I turn around. I raise my hands; the atmosphere becomes oppressive.

"Everything you see now stays in this room, or I'll crush you into puddles!" Suddenly, stones appear, some of which I summoned from my home world—the only way I can cast this spell. The stones form several gates, but what really matters is the magic needed to activate them. Despite my first magic teacher's warning, I consume several more bubbles of stored magical energy, my veins glowing so brightly they're almost white.

I remember where the others must go: the old Mage Academy, the Alfea, and the Temple of Light, where I once attended a ceremony. One archway after another lights up. As the gates open, I look at my so-called "friends." "Vinok is going through the second archway, Daniel the third, and Brandon and Callisto are going through the first!"

I let my order sink in for a moment before turning to Vinok. "You need to get Professor Palladium and Terra for me."

Then I turn to Daniel and press my hand against my chest, where something that looks like a rectangular seal appears. "Daniel, you have to bring the Rainbow Priest. He owes my family a lot. If he still refuses to come, just remind him of the second star, and he'll come running."

But I take a deep breath when my eyes land on Brandon and Callisto. "You need to get the butler from the old magic academy. He must gather as much ore from the backyard as all three of you can carry and then take it with you. I have to do something I never thought I would have to do!"

Without really giving them a choice, I turn around. "I will keep Foàlan alive until you return!" I promise them. "Proctus!" Once again, the healing light envelops the dying man. I can only hope they return soon.

[Masterlist]

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.55

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader, (OC) Callisto x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: None

(Callisto)

(Brandon)

Foàlan's gaze seemed strange, somehow teasing and challenging simultaneously, as if he were gauging my reaction. When I half-agreed, one corner of his mouth lifted into a one-sided grin that would have made even a Leviathan blush. It almost seemed as if he considered it a game. I know guys like that, all bark and no bite, only to then tilt his head to the side.

"You're damn handsome," he said so casually that my heart briefly stops. I feel my eyes widen at the compliment. I'm not easily flustered, but the overall situation, including but not limited to my frustration with Callisto, seems to make it easier.

"Thanks," I smile a little shyly and lower my gaze. I play with my fingers like a schoolgirl who just got a compliment from her crush. "You're not so bad yourself." I'm horrified when I hear these words fall from my lips. I want nothing more than to bang my head against the wall at this moment.

Suddenly, a tense atmosphere fills the air. "You can touch my chest." The offer comes out of the blue. Why would he ask such a thing? But when my gaze snaps back to him, I see a mischievous grin. "I know you want to," he whispers cheekily.

I can already feel the disparaging glances and put my hand over his mouth. "Did you have to say something like that in front of all these people?" I ask him accusingly, though I don't deny his claim. I can't. He's just too attractive for a man who's been asleep for years and whose physique is still flawless.

His eyes sparkle with barely concealed mischief. "Why?" he asks challengingly. "Would my little brother, your loverboy, get jealous if he knew you had the hots for his newly awakened brother?"

“(Y/N)!” Callisto’s suppressed, angry voice echoes through the room. I close my eyes and desperately wish to be swallowed by the ground. "Why don't we talk about why I woke you up?" I ask, smiling, but in a calm tone that still sounds commanding. Foàlan just nods but continues to grin.

"I've asked your family and they're confident you want to live, but I'd rather make sure because you would—"

“And why would you make that decision? Would you suc—”

I put my hand over his mouth again. "No more jokes. You don't have much time, and if you don't give me a decision now, I'll just let you die!"

Almost instantly, I see his expression darken. He nods weakly, so I free his mouth again.

“How bad is it?” he asks, visibly trying to understand his condition.

"It's bad," I say as I sit next to him. "So bad that I'd rather let you die in peace. But if you want, I can save your life, even if it would severely limit you for the rest of your life."

“In what way?“

I search for the right words while brushing a few strands of hair from his face that had fallen when he turned his head. "There are two ways I can do that, but either way, you will be bound to me for life. Your organs are as good as dead, your bones hollow and on the verge of crumbling to dust, and your body is alive only because you have a magical and an auric core that were activated during your expedition. Their collisions keep your body functioning, but that too has an end."

Uttering these words hurt my soul. It's difficult to live a life completely dependent on someone else. But what happened to him is an extraordinary circumstance that requires a difficult decision. "The first option would be to create a new body for you out of special materials. Your soul would be transferred into it, and with a part of my fairy core, it would become a living copy of your natural body, including the ability to reproduce," I explain succinctly. There are many more other things, but he wouldn't know about them anyway.

"The second option would be to repair your current body. I would have to infuse something called 'living metal' into your body to restore your bones. A healer, who owes a lot to my family, would come and help me repair your organs and, with my fairy magic, rebalance the minerals in your body. However, parts of your body would have to be replaced with identical copies, such as your heart. You would keep your current body, but at its core, it would be like the first option, since you could never live without me."

There's conflict in his warm brown eyes, a blend of Brandon's hazel eyes and Liam's dark brown, as if Foàlan were a bridge between the two.

"Are those the only options?" Foàlan asks, his voice less confident than before, clearly deep in thought. 

"If you want to live, probably," I mention somberly, "the Temple of Light might find alternatives, but even for them, resurrecting something dead is nearly impossible." I gently pet his head, hoping to take at least some worries from him. "With my methods, you can at least live a normal life, albeit not far from me."

For the first time, Foàlan looks at his parents, who are filled with tears. His mother holds her hand over her mouth and sobs quietly, while his father openly shows his tears. But Foàlan seems unfazed.

"I want to keep this body; it's served me well. I wasn't very close to my family anyway, always the forgotten one, less responsible than Liam, and Brandon was smarter than me before the incident. After the incident, it got even worse; our parents often forgot I even existed, having tried everything to bring back the old Brandon, even though nothing worked." Suddenly, Foàlan's eyes become determined. "I don't know what kind of man you are or what you'll accomplish one day, but it's probably better to follow someone than no one. I will stand at your side, fairy boy! Let's do this!"

He grinned confidently, his voice teasing, his gaze challenging. I laughed briefly. Despite his boastful manner, he has a heart. I nod, place my hand on his head, and whisper, "Tudomianux." His eyes closed, a smile spread across his face, and his body fell asleep again. I slowly remove the collar, and his color quickly returns.

As I turn to the others, my smile fades. "Well, this will be an expensive undertaking," I mutter, my heart filling with concern. "The metal I need costs more than Eraklyon produces in a year." I sigh, trying to think of a way to obtain what I need when my eyes land on Liam. He's staring at Foàlan and me in stunned silence. "Please tell me you're holding the spell while feeling like a fish out of water."

Liam shakes his head, ready to say something, but suddenly he pales. Shock runs through me as I turn to my lying patient. The magical glow is gone; half of his bones have already crumbled to dust.

“Damn it, I can’t save him anymore; we don’t have enough time.” My words send waves of grief through the room.

“Please, no,” I hear the lady of the house cries out.

I try to think of something that could save the poor man. But somehow, nothing comes to mind.

“You know what you have to do, even if you don’t want to,” whispers the voice of the stone Leviathan in my head.

"You're right, but I can't show them my abilities; it would shock them," I murmur. Despite my calm voice, I can feel everyone's eyes on me. "It is your decision, but remember that this young man's life is now in your hands," the voice finally said before falling back into its stony sleep.

Why does it always have to be me? Couldn't Stella, the fairy of the sun and stars, be confronted with such horrors for once? She can at least use healing magic! But no, the outsider who can't even handle everything he was born with gets everything thrown in his face!

As my turbulent thoughts deepen, I hear something in my head that sounds almost like the bell of clarity. The next moment, I realize the situation I'm in. With a reluctant sigh, I turn around. I raise my hands; the atmosphere becomes oppressive.

"Everything you see now stays in this room, or I'll crush you into puddles!" Suddenly, stones appear, some of which I summoned from my home world—the only way I can cast this spell. The stones form several gates, but what really matters is the magic needed to activate them. Despite my first magic teacher's warning, I consume several more bubbles of stored magical energy, my veins glowing so brightly they're almost white.

I remember where the others must go: the old Mage Academy, the Alfea, and the Temple of Light, where I once attended a ceremony. One archway after another lights up. As the gates open, I look at my so-called "friends." "Vinok is going through the second archway, Daniel the third, and Brandon and Callisto are going through the first!"

I let my order sink in for a moment before turning to Vinok. "You need to get Professor Palladium and Terra for me."

Then I turn to Daniel and press my hand against my chest, where something that looks like a rectangular seal appears. "Daniel, you have to bring the Rainbow Priest. He owes my family a lot. If he still refuses to come, just remind him of the second star, and he'll come running."

But I take a deep breath when my eyes land on Brandon and Callisto. "You need to get the butler from the old magic academy. He must gather as much ore from the backyard as all three of you can carry and then take it with you. I have to do something I never thought I would have to do!"

Without really giving them a choice, I turn around. "I will keep Foàlan alive until you return!" I promise them. "Proctus!" Once again, the healing light envelops the dying man. I can only hope they return soon.

[Masterlist]

Movie Premiere

Read before continuing: IF YOU ARE YOUNGER THAN 18 OR ANY OF THE WARNINGS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, DO NOT CONTINUE READING! 

(I've never seen a movie premiere but I’m going off on what clips I've seen of premieres.)

Special Assistance

Read before continuing: IF YOU ARE YOUNGER THAN 18 OR ANY OF THE WARNINGS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, DO NOT CONTINUE READING! 

This fic does not follow the Defending Jacob series and stands on its own! I haven’t watched the show yet, so there might be some mistakes.

Tom's Possession

Read before continuing: IF YOU ARE YOUNGER THAN 18 OR ANY OF THE WARNINGS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, DO NOT CONTINUE READING! 

DISCLAIMER: This does NOT represent what Tom is like in real life! This is just fanfiction and a request given to me. Don’t be too delusional. 

Submissive Streamer

Read before continuing: IF YOU ARE YOUNGER THAN 18 OR ANY OF THE WARNINGS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, DO NOT CONTINUE READING!

Submissive Streamer

Read before continuing: IF YOU ARE YOUNGER THAN 18 OR ANY OF THE WARNINGS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, DO NOT CONTINUE READING!

Yes, Konig

Read before continuing: IF YOU ARE YOUNGER THAN 18 OR ANY OF THE WARNINGS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, DO NOT CONTINUE READING! DEAD DOVE IS INCLUDING! NONCON AND DUBIOUS CONTENT IS IN THIS!

This fic may not represent how Konig is in the game or follow the in-game timeline! The English-German dialogue is trash. 

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.54

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader, (OC) Callisto x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: None

(Brandon)

(Callisto)

“Your Majesty, you should expand your mana pool.”

"Why, Sir Loran? Does it really matter? I'll probably sit in the office or the throne room for the rest of my life anyway."

Sir Loran gently ruffled my hair. As I looked up at him, his smile was gentle, but his gaze was focused, almost intimidating.

"A good ruler must protect his people at all costs, but as a person, your people are more than just your subjects. The friends you make over time, their families, and even some of your less cruel enemies become part of the people you wish to protect, not to mention your siblings." He paused and looked into my trembling eyes. "You need power to protect all these people, and I'll show you how!"

The memory of Sir Loran, whom I have not thought of since I entered the war, my first magic teacher and the only one I ever trusted, who trained me until I was nine, when he suddenly disappeared. After him, I had twelve more teachers, until I was sent into battle at twelve. But he was the one who taught me everything I know, especially how to never be one step behind your enemies. Yet I never imagined that I would have to open that gate, not in battle, but to save the life of one of my people, almost as if Sir Loran had prophesied it.

With my hands still hovering over Foàlan, I pop a bubble. My head clears as a massive amount of mana surges through me, so much that my mana veins glow a bright light blue. I didn't think it would be that much mana; even though I've been collecting it for years, it almost scares me as I still have a few hidden in my body. Sir Loran's technique, or at least what he calls it, is the Protection of the Mana Heart. It's a breathing technique where you create a bubble near the magical core or sub-cores along the mana lines, where you gather mana as you breathe. In these bubbles, they are converted into your own mana over time, and when they are full, you create a new one. But he warned me not to overdo it or use multiple bubbles at once, as that could kill me due to the abundance of mana.

My body feels better than it has in a long time. With my renewed strength, I can cast higher-level spells, and even my magical core in my ring feels almost the same as it did when it was still in my body. While he is nowhere near being healed with normal spells, or even Grandmaster-level spells—it would honestly be easier to revive him at this point—it is enough to save his body from eroding any further, especially his bones, at least for some time.

After about ten minutes, the guys finally return with cleaning supplies, but at this point I can't deal with them anymore. I wish for nothing else than for them to slip and die.

I slowly turn my gaze to them. Every single one of them, even Callisto, takes a step back at the same time.

"If you dare leave after I've screamed for help for half an eternity, I will not hesitate to break your legs, skin you alive, and keep you breathing until infections invade your body and take your life in the most disgustingly and cruelly possible way!"

A simultaneous gulp goes through the line of guys. I wish I could still call my friends, but if they're willing to let someone die this way, maybe they deserve the same fate.

“We didn’t hear you,” one of them murmurs sheepishly.

"Obviously," I reply sarcastically. "Brandon, do you want Foàlan to die?"

“No.” He seems almost offended by my question, but I don’t care.

"Then get everyone here, especially Liam!" Brandon stands there, stunned, his eyes wide like a deer's. Maybe my tone was harsh, but honestly, it's deserved? I'm trying to save a life here, and even with the mana boost, it's not easy.

Brandon takes a moment, but with some encouragement in the form of Callisto pushing him—the only other person who seems to be taking this situation somewhat seriously—he almost trips over his own feet as he tries to scramble away. I took one last look at him, and his eyes were full of fear; I may have unsettled him too much.

An awkward silence fills the room. Using this moment, I turn my gaze back to Foàlan, trying everything in my power to keep him stable, only to find more and more problems, from organ failure to thick blood clots in his veins. That his body is still alive is more than a miracle; it is so much worse than Liam had been. Although the dark magic had almost no effect on him, something far worse had taken hold of him instead.

A sudden crash nearly makes me jump out of my skin. But worse, it interrupted my healing spell. Clenching my fists, I try everything not to explode. Instead, I take a deep breath and ignore the others' invasive stares. Once more, I speak my healing spell, expending a tremendous amount of mana in the process. It's so much easier to keep a spell going than to start it over again. But there's nothing I can do. The most important thing is to keep him alive until I know what to do.

As the minutes pass, I'm starting to get a little nervous. I can't keep him alive like this forever. I know it's my fault that his situation has deteriorated so much so quickly, but I'm not a healer. I'm a destructive mage who throws fireballs or chain lightning. In the war, all I needed was basic healing, and this beats anything I've ever done.

A gentle tap on my shoulder pulls me from my thoughts, but not from my mission. I turn my head, my breath catches in my throat, and my eyes widen. Callisto's tanned golden skin is so close, his shiny brown curls bouncing right before my eyes, his head tilted down so close, that I feel his breath brushing my lips. I feel myself leaning into him.

"Not here," Callisto whispers, his voice deeper than usual, sending a shiver down my body, his gaze darting between my eyes and lips. He clearly wants it as bad as I do. "Brandon's parents are here."

Looking past Callisto's handsome, sharp, angular features, I indeed see the Lord and Lady of this house. My handsome specialist nods, steps back, and gives me the space I need. I clear my throat; the atmosphere is heavier than I thought.

"I need to know what your son wants," I try to speak clearly, but the gravity of the situation is putting too much pressure on my lungs. There is no easy way to ask this. "Does your son want to live?"

Seeing the horror in the parents' eyes, the sudden shattering of all their hope, says it all. It only got worse when the lady burst into ugly sobs, so loud that even my heart sank. Her husband caught her as her knees began to give way. I never wanted to see that again, to feel so useless in the face of death, the only enemy I can never overcome.

"He always wanted to live a normal life, become a father, a knight of the kingdom, and—"

“Does he want to live or die?” My cold voice even makes me shudder.

The lord swallows hard, his face distorted. He must have just realized the situation, which, as other parents have told me, tastes like poison melting on the tongue. It is not the first time, and most likely will not be the last, that I see this expression on such a stern man. He is clearly a man who only recognizes masculinity, but there is none of that to be seen at the moment, only the horror of a father losing his son.

"He wants to live," a second voice suddenly interjects. Around the corner, Liam is being half-carried by one of the younger servants. "Foàlan and I sometimes talked when he was still conscious in the early days. Do you remember, Mother? When he screamed in pain at night, none of us could understand. In his good times, we talked about the times to come when he would beat my ass not only in sword fighting but also in board games, as if he ever had a chance."

None of them seem to be able to think clearly, but in a situation like this, I probably couldn't either. If Galan were the one to die, I would wish that he lived too.

"I will wake him up then," I declare resolutely. Everyone stares at me in horror, disbelief, and betrayal. I roll my eyes and motion for Liam to come closer. He has gritted his teeth, but I don't care. I take him by the hand, connect his magical core with mine, copy the spell I use to heal Foàlan, and break my connection to him. "Whatever you do, Liam, don't let your mind wander; just remember to help your brother until the healing spell disappears."

He stares at me with wide, disbelieving eyes, no anger to be seen. He tries to open his mouth, but I shut it. I don't like opposition; I never have, especially when I'm trying to give orders or help.

"Stone Shackle!" I mutter. The summoned stone appears around Foàlan's neck. As I concentrate on it, the shackle, or in this case the collar, tightens around him. "Paralyze!" It can't be seen, but small metal spikes penetrate his skin from the inner circle, just far enough to not hit anything vital and only punctuate certain points. With a small movement of my hand, the inner part of the collar tightens further and further until his skin looks just a little paler, whereupon I stop it.

I crack my fingers and turn back to the family, who stare at me in horror. That feels appropriate since I just placed a stone collar on their son and brother. But it's all good; that will have to wait because it takes a few minutes for his nervous system to be suppressed by the pressure and the little needles pricking him. Just then, I notice something lurking around the corner outside the room. 

“What happened?” I ask him immediately, not even giving him a chance to think of an excuse.

"I fell," Brandon immediately crumpled up like a piece of paper. What a cutie.

"So you were the one who made the loud crash?"

His whole neck quickly turned red. He looks away and nods rather adorably. He's really nothing more than a big golden retriever puppy. But then I see it, the slightest limp in his gait. A strange warm feeling compels me to step closer to him. His blush only gets worse as I stop right in front of him. I watch his face closely, but I see none of the pain that makes him walk like that.

Clicking my tongue, I roll my eyes, take his hand, and pull him into the room. He stumbles and takes a deep, sharp breath, confirming what I suspected.

"Why do all men always have to try to hide their pain? It's so annoying!" I mutter to myself in the same way and stare at Brandon, who looks away embarrassed. "We have to sit you down first."

"But there are no chairs," Brandon pointed out. I give him another glare, and he quickly falls silent. He sighs in resignation. Sometimes I wish he had a little more sense, but then he'd probably be like his oldest brother and Sky combined, a complete douchebag. But he was right about one thing: there are no chairs.

So I summon a rather large rock on the ground, which I quickly turn into a chair. Without allowing any objections, I plop Brandon down on it. His face is twisted in pain, but I don't care if someone is as reckless as him; he might deserve a little pain.

Rubbing my hands together, I reactivate the last bits of the healing spell and place them both on Brandon's cheeks. His eyes widen and his cheeks glow red. He's too cute for his own good. It's only as this thought crosses my mind that I sense the closeness, and suddenly a devious idea occurs to me. Gently, I run my thumbs along his strong jawline until they meet at the tip of his chin. His eyes sparkle, his innocence is truly astonishing, and despite what I've heard about his flirtatious antics, he doesn't seem used to being on the other side of the game. Somewhat forcefully, I pull his head down by the chin, and since his forehead is only an inch away, I settle a soft, chaste kiss on its middle. My left side twists into a half grin while simultaneous gasps echo through the room.

As I separate us, Brandon is dissolved into nothing but a shy little boy, fiddling with his fingers so much that I'm afraid he'll hurt himself. Carefully, I take them in mine. He dares to glance at me briefly but quickly looks away when our eyes meet. If only he had been like this from the beginning, maybe things would be different.

"The kiss wasn't necessary," Vinok's voice echoes in my ear. He grabbed my arm so hard that anyone else would be bruised from it. But the anger in his voice is misplaced; he had nothing to do with it. It may not have been fair to Brandon, but he will be angry with me, not with him. "You can't play with people like that!"

Suddenly, Vinok rips me away from Brandon, turns me around, and forces me to face everyone in the room. Honestly, I'm too shocked to react. But when I regain my composure, I rip my arm out of his hand, glaring at him in utter betrayal.

"I don't know who you think you are, Vinok, but you're crazy if you think there are no consequences—" I jab my finger into his chest and hold his gaze with blazing anger—"I'm not playing with anyone. But if you're so angry that you can't flirt with any of the fairies you'd love to get into the panties of because you decided to stand by your friend who was horribly humiliated by those same girls in public, maybe we should both rethink our friendship." My anger is almost boiling over, but I can barely hold myself back. “I don’t need any more snakes around me than I already have.” I finally finish my monologue, but the heaviness doesn’t get any easier.

I push past him; my eyes lock on Callisto. For a moment, the world seems to stand still. But then his carefully maintained facade of neutrality trembles, and for just a split second he lets his emotions show. That's enough to make me realize that I may have gone too far this time, which is only underlined when my gaze falls down his body to his clenched hands.

My heart aches, a feeling I haven't had since the day my world turned upside down. I was angry before, but now I feel discouraged and all emotions drained from my body. Why do I have to be so impulsive? I'd be lying if I said Brandon didn't deserve that kiss, but not at Callisto's cost.

“I need help!“

The sheer panic in Liam's voice is enough to pull me away from Callisto. Even though I am reluctant to turn my back on the situation I created in my infinite wisdom, Foàlan's life is more important.

"I'm here," I whisper as I stand next to Liam. I put a hand on his shoulder to look at him first. "Your mana level is stable; the spell is taking almost nothing away from it, but your body is tense considering this is the first time your newly formed magical core has ever used magic. That's perfectly understandable, but you have to go through this pain like any new mage does." As I take a step back, he looks at me incredulously. "What?" I ask him smugly. "I believe in you."

I don't let it stew too long, pat him on the shoulder, and then finally stroll back to Foàlan. The collar was around his neck long enough to wake him up.

My left knee is on the edge of the bed; I lean over him. His skin is dry, but his face is even more beautiful up close. This family's genes are great, one more beautiful than the last.

Carefully, I place my right hand on his head. "Exitirania," I blurt out clearly. At first it doesn't seem to work, as nothing happens. Although things are getting pretty hectic in the room, I stay calm. The spell takes its time, as I don't want to wake him up by force but rather bring him back without causing any damage or stress.

After a few receding sun rays, another pair of dark brown eyes looks at me. I can't hide a widening smile.

"Are you an angel?"

Smiling somewhat reservedly, I chuckle quietly, feeling yet another blush creeping onto my cheeks. "Something like that.“

[Masterlist]

Yandere Alpha Batfamily and Omega Male Reader

Been on a bit of an A/B/O kick on AO3 on the last few days, so here’s this. Enjoy it while waiting for the next chapter of From Gold to Mold!

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.53

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader, (OC) Callisto x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: Blood, Gore

(Brandon)

(Callisto)

"No, Galan!" I hear myself scream as I see a dagger penetrate his throat. Blood splatters everywhere, covering the dark stone walls of the bedroom with its red color. I feel my body shaking. My vision goes black for a moment, but when I can see in the darkness again, there is another body lying next to my brother. Fear filled my body, but I jumped to my brother, ripped a piece of my nightshirt, and pressed it to his throat, all the while watching to see if the other man would attack us again.

Something switched in my mind when I saw the intruder's hand move. Before I knew it, a massive stone sword was hovering over the man, and with just a wave of my hand, I brought it down, squashing the man to pieces. But what pissed me off was the black piece of cloth covering his face, as if nobody would ever find out who he was.

When my brother's breathing returned to somewhat normal, I turned to the man who had tried to kill us and walked toward him. Even though I wanted nothing more than to run away and cry in an empty room, I knelt down beside him anyway. I grabbed the cloth that was covering his face and ripped it off like a bandage, but instead of fear, my head was spinning with confusion.

The person I feared was not a man but a young woman with purplish hair, reminiscent of the assassins in the old records concealed in the forbidden section of the dark library. I knew instantly that I would never forget her face, nor the intensity with which she attacked my brother and me. Although we were still just children, she left nothing to chance, or at least she tried not to.

I can only see her face briefly, as I finally heard the metallic clanging of our guards in the distance. They took their sweet time. However, I summoned another stone that smashed the woman's face before they could get there. Immediately after I turned back to Galan, I swept him up from the floor and ran out of the room. At that moment, my body feels weak, and tears streamed down my cheeks. A heavy realization hit me: I have just taken a life. In a panic, I glanced back once more and saw something strange outside my brother's bedroom—a faint glow.

I never found out what it was.

“(Y/N), are you there, is everything okay?”

I shake my head when I hear Brandon's worried voice. My eyes are still fixed on the room. I haven't thought about that night in a long time. But I can understand why; it was traumatic, and yet the same strange glow radiates, not from the room itself, but from the door. Inspecting it further, I realize it's their sign.

Out of the corner of my eye, I suddenly see someone moving. Reflexively, I slam my arm against the door frame, preventing the person who dares to try to enter the room. Rescuing the person, I snap in their direction. Vinok's shocked face says it all.

"I'll warn you just once. None of you—" I turn to the others and look them in the eyes—"will enter this room until I specifically tell you otherwise. And if you do, I will prevent you from receiving life-saving help. I will let you suffer and die a death from which you will beg to be released!"

Without giving them a chance to answer me (since this should not be necessary), I made myself perfectly clear; I turned toward the interior of the room. I close my eyes, knowing I must prepare myself. 

"Armor of harmonizing metals," I whisper. Just a moment later, I feel my entire body being covered by a thin layer of magical particles that quickly harden into metal armor. "Lius Proktus Crelianis Senkneuis Cekelius." The magical core of my ring lights up, and a second layer of light envelops me, followed by a warmth that heals a small scratch on my hand, after which a second gray layer covers the first light, only to be overshadowed by another stable light that quickly hardens into a barrier. And as a final push, I take a deep breath and move the aura of the other core of my ring through my body, even though it burns, since it no longer normally flows through me; I bite through it.

I open my eyes, surrounded by three layers of protection, and take the first step into the room. Immediately I sense the magical pressure, the air full of poison, and the energy of witchcraft. I knew it! The moment I looked into that room and saw all those crystals, little dolls, forest forage, symbols, and little servants walking around with engravings, there was really no surprise anymore.

This is really getting more annoying than I first thought. Where do I start? Just as I wonder about this, I feel something at my leg. Looking down, I can't help but smile because fate always gives me the right answers. I bend over and catch the creature that ran into me. It tries to fight, but at this size it can't do anything. Upon closer inspection, I am sure of what it is. I gently stroke his little furry head. At least he's still furry.

With both hands I feel his skin under the fur until I find what I'm looking for: the engraving. It's sloppy; the corners are almost rounded, and the circle is more elliptical, but it still seems to work because his skin is getting darker, and in some places the fur is already falling out.

I form a stone ball, capturing the little creature inside. "Proctus!" My voice echoes through the room, the magic deep inside. I wait a moment before opening the ball. I immediately see the little creature crouched at the back of the ball. The creature's fur is pure white again, its skin has returned to its beige color, and the deformed nose has almost reverted to its original, round shape. But its ears are the best part; they are long, pointed, and curled up, just too cute. "Don't worry, little guy, everything will be fine!" I tell him as I scratch his head. It seems to calm down, but I close the ball again and cast the spell a second time.

Turning in circles, I desperately try to find a safe place to put the ball until I can clear the fog of darkness from the room, but the space is too cluttered. Not just because of the witchcraft used, but almost as if no one has cleaned the room since the owner fell into a coma. It's almost like a little time capsule here; at least the three brothers seem like the kind of guys who throw their crap around and only clean their room when their mother tells them to. But then my eyes suddenly fall on Brandon; a lightbulb goes off in my head.

"Brandon?" I call to him in a sweet voice. There is a gasp and a pant from outside, but I can only smile at it. These guys are too easy to fluster.

"Yes?" His usually confident voice, gentle. I see him approach the door, but he doesn't step over it. What a good boy, like a well-trained hunting dog.

Smiling inwardly, I try not to burst out laughing. He doesn't rush me once but waits patiently, even though I need a moment to continue speaking. "Can you catch something for me?" I finally ask.

“Yeah, sure,” he calls back immediately, but I hear some hesitation.

"Is something up with you?" I ask, but don't get an answer. "What's going on?"

He sheepishly scratches his neck. "I can't see inside."

Confused, I look around again. Is he playing with me? Only for the situation to dawn on me pretty harshly. "Sorry," I mumble, a little embarrassed. "I'll throw it towards your chest; I can see you clearly." When I hear his agreement, I prepare to throw him but hold back most of my strength so as not to knock him to the ground. But just before I can throw it, something stops me. "Do you have a piece of cloth to catch the ball?"

A little scuffle starts, but he gives me the go-ahead just a few seconds later. I'm sure no one would let him grab the ball with his bare hands, so I finally throw it. A huff echoes in my ears. It's almost as if a weight has been lifted from my heart. Seeing the success of this little operation, I am about to go and look for the others, only to find dozens of them around my feet. Maybe they saw what I did to their friend; perhaps they're not as stupid as everyone thinks.

My theory about their intelligence is further confirmed as they do exactly what I tell them to. They waddle at an exact distance from each other. It's rather impressive; not even the hunting dogs I praised earlier could do that. Somehow I can't stop smiling; witnessing them walking so helplessly just makes my heart swell. I give them the same treatment the first one got, a little scratching of their heads before trapping them in their own little stone ball to heal and cleanse their little bodies. Seeing so many little balls around me feels kind of tragic. Sometimes I hate the universe for things like this, but thankfully they don't happen that often anymore.

"Hey, Daniel?" I call again. A hesitant head comes in front of the open door. "Can you catch a few more balls? But remember to only catch with cloth!"

Not long after, I see him standing where Brandon had stood, holding a large blanket. But I didn't plan for him to stay there for long. I let all the balls hover around me like a protective belt and throw them into the air with a mischievous grin. One after the other, they hit Daniel with so much force that after three of these balls, he is thrown backward straight into the wall. Still, I don't let the stream of stone balls stop. Much to my surprise, he catches them all, as if he still thinks he's my friend, or maybe he's just afraid of my authoritative tone.

Once all the balls are on the blanket he's holding, he closes it and grimaces as he tries to get up. I may have overdone it, but he smiles at the room even though he can't see what's inside. It hurts my heart, but deep down I know I won't easily forget the dismissive and slightly asshole way he disrespected my feelings for Callisto.

I turn away from him, already having decided what to do next. Raising my hands, I call the crystals all over the room to me. My eyes widen as the room cracks and creaks. Before I know it, the walls are breaking open, furniture is being destroyed, and even the floor is opening up.

There were hundreds of tiny, small, medium, and large crystals. I can't believe the sight. What horrible creature would do such a thing? The black magic must be unbearable, but strangely, only this room is tainted by it, as if the person didn't want anyone else to suffer like that. What did this poor guy do to this witch?

The longer I look at them, the more I wonder what to do. They need to be purified before anything can be done with them, because if not, they would cause contamination, probably even in a place like this.

I gather my strength until I feel my magic vibrating. Fusing the crystals would be the easiest way to purify them, but as far as I know, there is no spell for that, so I must create my own. I focus on the crystals; soon they too begin to vibrate, just like my magic, and I imagine them becoming one. To a certain extent it works; the tiny ones become small crystals, but the larger they get, the harder it becomes to combine them into a new one. It gets quite painful quickly. My brain begins to fog up until I can no longer imagine it, but I know if I stop here, it could all go wrong faster than my eyes can see.

The pain becomes immeasurable, but I continue, although I have to close my eyes to avoid hurting them. When someone uses too much magic, open eyes are always the first to be damaged because that's where the magic can release the pressure most easily.

A cry of pain escapes my lips, but thankfully the pain suddenly disappears just as my cry escapes into the darkness of the room. Opening my eyes, tears obscure my sight, yet I can make out a huge crystal, probably as tall as me, maybe even a little taller and three times as wide. It would be impressive if it wasn't as black as the deepest night. For now, I give it the same treatment I gave the little rascals before. I could immediately feel the oppressive nature of the black magic weakening. It's not a permanent solution. I'll have to do that later, but for the moment, that's all I can do.

"Jokus Dunsel Pulsavias Voucha Kra Nemlian Sekneuis Proktun." It has been a while since I’ve used such a high-level spell, but I can clearly sense that it is not powerful enough. To avoid repeating myself, I simply channel more magic to artificially strengthen the spell. Gradually, the air in the room begins to shift; the darkness collects, drawing itself from the air and surrounding fabric, gathering in one place, forming a sphere, enclosing it within a barrier, and slowly purifying and healing it. What many people in dark magic organizations don't realize is the harm they inflict on the magical particles and the pure mana. It saddens me to witness this.

This mana can never return to nature. It can be healed, but it will never be the same again. But it can still be used as a tool, perhaps even a powerful one, considering how much effort I had to put into gathering it all and how intense its power seems to be. Now I just need to find someone who can use it after I make a magical weapon out of it.

Suddenly, something pulls me out of my thoughts. When I look back, Brandon is smiling at me so genuinely, so sweetly; it almost makes me sway. Why does he have to be so handsome? Just then, as if he can sense it, Callisto's equally handsome face appears from the side, barely poking around the door frame, smiling; however, his expression feels different—more familiar, perhaps mischievous as always. Just as I'm about to ask about their behavior, he raises something next to his head. Between two fingers, he holds one of the little rascals, who is also smiling, waving its little arms, desperately searching for attention. Although I can see Callisto saying something toward the small rascal, I can’t hear a word. To my astonishment, the rascal frees itself from Callisto's grip, digs its little claws into his cheeks, and hugs him tightly. I want to protect the sight, even as it disarms me; Callisto really does seem like the perfect man.

"You can come in, you idiots; I got rid of all the darkness," I tell them, chuckling, but they look at each other and then at me. Confused, I turn around and only see Callisto, with a serious expression, reaching out his hand to me, but it gets held back by a barrier. I blush, unable to believe my error. "Sorry!" I yell and run towards them. Directly opposite Callisto, I try to touch the barrier to dissolve it. Instead of feeling the cold of a barrier, I fall.

With wide open eyes, I am afraid to feel the cold, hard floor. But I don't fall for long. A strong arm and the scent of the forest catch me. "I got you. I always will!" Callisto's deep voice and the warmth that emanates from him make me feel safe.

Just as all of this overwhelms my senses, I feel something on my head. "I think he likes me more," I comment as I feel four feet and two hands trying to make themselves comfortable in my hair. It's nice to know that my magic, although drastically diminished over time, is still enough to help these creatures.

“I can’t blame him; you smell so good,” Callisto whispers. His lips are so close to mine.

“And the barrier?” Daniel’s voice rang out again, just before I got my well-deserved kiss.

The urge to splatter the floor with his blood makes me grit my teeth and twist into Callisto's arm, gripping both sides of the doorframe. "Please convey my apologies to your parents for my upcoming actions." I grin casually over my shoulder at Brandon. As always, he stares at me like a deer caught in headlights, but his eyes widen with shock as I effortlessly rip the doorframe out of the wall, destroying a large portion of it in the process.

Brandon trembles at the sight. He is clearly terrified, but I simply don't have enough mana to do anything else at the moment.

"Now that you can enter, I need your help to remove all runes and witch symbols from the walls, floor, and ceiling."

None of them seem to take me seriously, so I step aside and invite them to enter the now purified room. It didn't take long for them to realize the truth. "I'm sure Brandon or one of his family's servants can show you where the cleaning supplies are. I'll take care of his brother in the meantime!" I push them back out of the room, smiling widely.

With no one else around, I finally have time to look at my second patient. This may not have been the best moment, as I'm dangerously close to passing out and sleeping for another month, but what can one do?

As I step close to the bed, I can't see his face in the darkness; it's only lit up from the hallway. I reach for the curtains behind the bed and pull them open, only to feel like I've been knocked out of my comfort zone. Someone is lying on the bed, but are these people sure he's Brandon's brother? Brandon already has a masculine, sharp facial structure with a beautiful, rather small nose, thick lips, and high cheekbones, but this guy can literally cut diamonds with his jawline. And don't let me start with his body. Damn. Even after lying for so long, he doesn't seem to have lost a single muscle: a broad neck, equally wide shoulders, and those pecs. Man, how much I just want to lie on it; it would probably be the best sleep of my life!

"Fuck, he's the most beautiful man I've ever seen!" I murmur quietly. It just slipped out of my mouth.

But I wonder how his body survived like that, especially with all the dark magic that was supposed to eat away at it.

I reach out to feel his skin and maybe trace his jaw, but who could blame me? As I almost touch his body, a loud, booming voice stops me.

"Don't touch him!" The voice boomed so loudly that I flinched a little. Panicking, I look around, yet I can't see anyone, which confuses me even more. "If you touch him, his bones will turn to dust!"

Irate, it slowly dawns on me: that stupid stone guy again. "I'll touch anyone I want; he can't even say no!" I almost shout. As the words echo in my ear, I sigh in shock. "That's not how I meant—" I wipe my hand over my face—"I "need to touch his skin to see what I need to do to get him back on his feet!" I can only hope that someone believes my words, because I don't.

“Use your damn magic, you foolish fairy!”

Muttering incomprehensible words, I close my eyes, let my hands float over the prone body, and use the surrounding mana particles like a scanner. The manipulation is simple and requires hardly any mana of my own. At first I don't see anything, but the stone guy insists that I use more power.

As I search his chest, I realize I've made the biggest mistake of my life, maybe the third biggest, but still. I immediately throw up my hands and curse myself silently. What should I do?

But before I can decide, I sense a change. When I turn back to the lying man, I see the first bone breaking apart.

“Help!” I scream throughout the house, my voice echoing off the walls in a desperate attempt to save this poor man’s life.

[Masterlist]