#◇˖���ﾟ— › cosmic obey me . ⊹

[cosmicstarlatte]

Diavolo: Do you have representation?

Mammon: I call upon my lawyer MC!

MC: My client is innocent!

Diavolo (pinching MCs cheek): Of course he is, case dismissed!

Lucifer: Lord Diavolo there's crisp clean video of Mammon stealing from-

Diavolo (petting & cuddling MC): MC said he's not guilty, so he's not. What's so hard about that?

Lucifer: MC do you handle murder cases?

[inhuman-obey-me]

True Forms: Sides + New Characters

Once upon a time, long, long ago, we wrote some true demon forms for the demon brothers. And we had so much fun with it that we've returned with a follow-up! Now featuring not only demons but also some angels, a reaper, and one immortal "human" sorcerer.

No in-between forms for MC's sake this time though -- we die like men being driven mad by unspeakable, incomprehensible horrors.

Like before, content warning for unsettling, eldritch descriptions and body horror.

DIAVOLO

The Crown Prince of the Devildom doesn't often go into this true form -- it's incredibly dangerous, and if you see it, you might as well already be in your grave.

The first thing that hits you is the scent of sulfur and burning, so strong that you feel like you're choking on it, suffocating even though there's no smoke to be seen.

There is, however, plenty to be seen of him, as his form is utterly massive -- every direction you look, he seems to stretch infinitely around you, no end in sight to his immense presence.

To his sides, sparks and flashes of gold and darkness alternately flicker off of black flame wings as they languidly float back and forth behind him, singeing the very air they occupy.

The rest of his body mostly transforms into that of a dragon, much like the ornament you normally see upon his chest, covered in brilliant triangular golden scales except for the glowing red orb at his center.

The orb pulses like a heartbeat, and in it, you see yourself -- no, rather, you see a distortion of yourself, all the corruption and cruelty that hides in your very core laid bare before your eyes.

Meanwhile, fire roars everywhere, filling every open space around him and spiraling into a grand crown upon his head.

Despite the noise of the flames, however, his commanding voice can be heard clearly, a low rumble like the roar of a dragon yet distinctly regal and elegant in its tone.

On his chest, the black marks you see in his more humanoid demon form expand and twist outward, hypnotizing you as they wrap like vines around your body.

You hardly even notice as they capture you in a world of complete darkness -- darkness that overtakes not just your senses, but your mind, your soul, your whole existence, like a fire that burns away everything until there's nothing left in you but the abyss, all else turned to ash.

BARBATOS

To witness the true form of the ever loyal and capable steward to the Crown Prince of the Devildom, your fate is already sealed -- one of demise and ruin.

His body shifts and stretches, and stretches, and s t r e t c h e s -- you cannot see where, or if, he ever ends -- like time itself.

His body resembles that of a dragon -- though not the same of his master, but those creatures known across the human world as the lóng, the ryū, the druk, the nāga.

His face blurs, rots, melts -- bits of bone showing through flesh and one eye now just an orb of empty, everlasting black.

The spindly, web-like horns that grace his head grow thicker and longer, the talon-like ends even sharper than before.

Whiskers sprout from his face that are slick and forked at the ends, like his more humanoid-demon form tail, an electric buzz sparking at the end of them.

The scales along his body are black and teal, that familiar lightning pattern reflected in some while you catch glimpses of other universes as they gleam.

It is then that you notice you are slowly being buried in sand -- it cascades off his body, from the ridges in his back and gaps between those captivating scales.

Time itself seem to distort around him as he swims in the air, the very fabric of space rippling and warping against his form.

When he opens his mouth to roar, all that can be seen is a void of space inside, an all-consuming black hole.

There is an awfully maddening absence of sound, the very weight of silence seemingly suffocating and crushing you as you try to gasp for air.

The longer you stare into his face, his form -- the more you get lost and trapped across universes, seeing every branch of time lay itself out before you, over and over and over and over...

Your soul will be trapped forever in that endlessness, true death never taking hold as no reaper can ever reach you to claim it.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Every ghost story about haunted suits of armor originates from the true form of Mephistopheles.

In this form, he truly represents his noble heritage as proud knights tasked with defending the royal family -- grand, intimidating, gallant.

From afar, he seems exactly like those stories, an empty suit of golden armor with eerie peridot green lights glowing as eyes through the helm.

Atop this helm, a showy plume of magenta feathers swoops in a proud arc, and from his back, a grand set of opalescent, translucent feathered wings stretches impossibly wide.

Each flap of these wings creates torrential whirlwinds, tornadoes that tear destructively through entire cities in their path, leaving nothing but ruin in their wake.

Up close, however, it becomes clear that the armor is hollow because he is the armor -- though he usually keeps most of them closed for protection, eyes of green and magenta can emerge all over the gleaming metal plates.

Also dotting the plates are various gems and precious crystals, embedded throughout as if daring someone to come close enough to try to steal them, tempt them as demons so notoriously do.

Every movement, too, deafens with the cacophony of jewels crashing against coins, ringing out for miles and miles around him.

Looking upon this form always makes you feel slightly off, as though he's not standing quite straight, which in turn makes you feel slanted as if constantly slipping down sideways.

However, it's best not to look at all, as gazing upon him melts your flesh away to pools of thick, smooth black ink which indeed would make you slip and fall.

Before one would fully melt away, he opens up to consume any potential wearer of the armor, crushing them inside and using their bones to reinforce the strength of the metal.

Because of this, streaks of ink are always running down the seams where the armor opens, dripping endlessly in deep pools everywhere he goes.

LUKE

Before Luke descends as an angel, a soft smell of grassy sunlight fills the air, and you feel a gentle breeze pick up alongside you.

The sound of bells chimes softly as if rung by this breeze, though no bells can be seen.

Slowly, bursts of tiny stars shimmer into view as if creating a veil from which the angelic child steps forth.

Once he has appeared, the stars gather in small clusters, dancing around him as if engaged in a waltz.

Being a lower-ranking angel still, his form is generally humanoid and looks much like the Luke you know and love.

However, his shape looks more unstable at the edges, buzzing and shaking like a Chihuahua.

Though most of him is covered up by his Celestial garb, you notice eyes peeking out from between the folds, gazing up at you unblinkingly, staring right into your soul.

The eyes on his face, on the other hand, remain peacefully closed, as though you're looking upon a child asleep.

As he delivers his message, the scent of wheat and honey drifts from him, filling the air around you.

Although this form does no harm to you to look upon, you get the distinct feeling that you would fall into endless despair if you were to fail him.

Michael likes to send him to would-be runaways for this reason.

RAPHAEL

Though he may be the youngest of the seraphs, his form is no less grand and imposing.

You hear him before you see him -- the melody of a flute, a tintinnabulation, mixed with an enchanting voice singing words in a tongue you cannot comprehend.

Six large wings surround him, feathers light grey with the same iridescent sheen found on those of homing pigeons, spanning far and wide.

Where his face might be instead are twisting golden rings filled with eyes, swirling in a mesmerizing pattern that captivates you.

His arms, too, are made of a stack of metallic rings that mirrors armor, though no flesh resides within them, and interlock with the shapes of diamonds and spades.

Various chimes hang off like tassels at various points along those metallic arms, ringing endlessly.

In place of his torso is an opalescent crystal ribcage, though there are no organs for it to protect.

A number of spears, pointing downward and outward, fan around his bottom half, with needles circling golden thread around the spear "boning" -- making his bottom half resemble a cage hoop skirt.

Above the swirling rings of his face rests a halo, made up of floating spear tips, sharp and deadly.

And behind him, around him, are more rings that are linked in circles like an atom, so numerous that they are reminiscent of chainmail, all while swirling at dizzying speeds.

Surreal light emits from every element of his form -- every ring, every feather, every pointed end -- giving him an unsettling and ethereal glow.

Anger him in this form, and the mix of melodies becomes mind-numbingly discordant and cacophonous while numerous spears glisten with their sharp ends pointed towards you, ready to strike.

SIMEON

When Simeon was a seraph, his form shared a number of features with that of Raphael's: twisting golden rings for a face, an iridescent crystal ribcage, the stacks of rings for arms, and that surreal, unsettling light emitting from every element.

However, his form differed greatly as well -- his halo was actually an ouroboros, dotted with eyes peering into your very soul and lined with large, long spikes.

His six wings were not made of feathers but of fire, their flames a striking and dangerous blue -- four flanking his back, while the other two surrounded his head of twisting rings, protecting his face with their chaste embers.

His "legs" were composed of crystal shards, slowly twisting and catching the light to create a constant prismatic display.

Past the faint crackling of flames and metallic sonority, you could hear a soft and distant harp that lulled the senses.

His seraph form somehow evoked both a sense of serenity and a gnawing, unnerving sense of dread.

Since his demotion to archangel, however, his form is a bit different -- more telluric, more humanoid, with wings more traditionally white and feathery at his back.

The delicate music of the harp that used to accompany him is gone, now replaced by the brash announcement of trumpets.

His more exquisitely airy elements have become more earthen, those radiant crystal pieces composed now of jagged rock and gleaming metal instead.

So too do fragments of steel float around and over his right side, resting upon his shoulders like a cape flowing gracefully from shining pauldrons.

Drifting idly just past his fingertips, a sword rests across his form, long and thin, both a tool and yet inherently part of him, dancing easily at his command and always ready to strike.

Each metallic sliver is dotted with eyes, peering and watching over you, at once benevolent and yet you can feel them -- watching you, judging you, sharply observing every move you make.

Another eye watches as well, from above, gazing serenely from the center of a spinning seven-pointed star which serves as his head.

There are no other facial features to speak of, but the look in that single blue orb expresses all there is to understand.

Though his voice rings clear in your mind with any message he may have from above, you can see your fate clearly from the moment your eyes connect with his gaze.

THIRTEEN

As a reaper, there is no question of death's approach when Thirteen transforms into her true form.

You become aware of long, low bells in the distance -- for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

From the moment you hear that very first clang, you cannot move, an icy chill washing over you and leaving you frozen in place.

However, it is not fear that you feel, but instead an odd sense of peace that overtakes your mind and makes the world around seem distant and hazy.

All light fades from view except the eerie blue flame of the candle she carries in one hand, along with the vivid green fire that takes the place of one eye.

Through the flickering light, you can see where bones replace flesh -- a half jaw, a sharp cheekbone, a partially exposed ribcage.

Her other eye seems to become more reptilian in nature, scales surrounding her brow bone and the hollows of her cheeks, jagged and harsh.

Her teeth are sharp and large, the exposed jaw making it appear as if they are locked in a menacing grin.

Gauze wraps around her neck, dark ichor seeming to seep through it and drip onto her chest and into the hollow of her ribs.

She floats towards you, no legs to be seen as she rolls atop mist and fog that sprawls ever outward, reaching the edges of your vision.

Within that mist you catch a glimpse of fluttering iridescence -- butterflies, their wings part black and shining with opalescent darkness.

No longer does she wear the tattered black robes so often thought as the reaper's uniform -- instead, long pieces of black chiffon, tulle, and mesh twist around her form, giving the illusion of a cloak.

Long, sharp claws wrap around her scythe, its blade broad and keen -- but it shimmers in the light, its form malleable and able to transform into whatever the reaper so desires.

However she decides to capture your soul, the last thing reflected in your eyes will be the blue flame of the candle extinguished, its wax melted away with the end of your life.

SOLOMON

Hello, my adorable apprentice

What's wrong? Don't you recognize me?

It's me, Skeletiano Solomon

The true form of an immortal human sorcerer is...

Yeah this seems right

Right?

[devilishdelights]

it’s so tragic really like you kiss him and then make a pact with him because you need it to return home and he doesn’t even know that he’s helping you leave him. and if you do choose to stay? you’ll still be abandoning him. whichever option you choose he gets left behind. yet you kiss him anyway

[mostly-marvel-musings]

can we ask for threesomes for kinktober? in case we can... bear with me. worst!Logan x reader x whatever version of Logan you choose + this prompt “I bet they can’t fuck you like I can.”.

horny goblins have taken over my brain since I watched DP&W, I'm sorry 😭

More of you

A/N: Don’t worry anon, our horniness for this man knows no bounds. Thank you for sending this request!

Pairing: worst! Logan x F! Reader x Lumberjack! Logan

Warning: 18+ pure smut, threesome.

🍁🍂 Kinktober 2024 🍂🍁

.

Your dreamy sigh followed by a faint moan is what roused Logan from his sleep.

Initially he was concerned but as he saw a hint of a smile on your features, he was relieved you were probably just dreaming. It amused him as yet another quiet moan escaped your lips, your legs parting while you caressed the pillow underneath you.

Whatever this dream was, sure seemed like a pleasant one.

If only he knew…

Biting your bottom lip, you rolled your hips seductively against Logan's crotch, smirking when you felt him twitch underneath you. He had his vice-like grip upon them, almost possessively keeping your anchored to him while the other 'him' hovered around like a predator on a prowl.

His gaze wasn't as gentle or loving as your Logan's was but the eyes sure held the same darkened lust as they drank you in, it was one thing they had in common. The intensity made a shiver run down your spine as he approached, using your hands to undo his zipper.

"Open your mouth and take me—all of me in like a good girl.." the other Logan growled, letting out a shaky breath when you wrapped a hand around his length, stroking him.

On cue, your Logan slid your panties aside, gathering your slick on his fingers before undoing his zip to free his own erection. He didn’t seem completely onboard, he could never be. Logan still needed to be the one inside you, claiming you as his while the other guy had his fun.

Desire pooled deep within your belly as you tasted meaner Logan's salty eagerness on the tip of your tongue, your warmth coating his cock deliciously as you made room for more, obeying his command.

“What a good fuckin girl..” he grunted, tugging on your hair as his cock twitched inside your velvety mouth.

Your moan was muffled as the man underneath you shifted, pulling you up only to have you sink down on his sizeable dick.

"All mine, Y/N." Logan murmured, teasing his thumb against your clit while the other guy scoffed, letting his fingers tangle in your hair before guiding himself deeper in your mouth.

It could only be a cosmic blessing you were experiencing to have not one but two Logans agreeable, albeit reluctantly, to your every dirty desire. Your body had never felt more alive, every cell greedy for them, craving them both carnally.

Logan began fucking your mouth deliberately, making your eyes water as he hit the back of your throat with every thrust, as the man used you for his pleasure, pleasure you were more than willing to give.

With your pussy stuffed as luxuriously as your mouth, the sensations tingling all over your body were both too much and not enough all at once. You could feel the building tension desperate for release, the coil that tightened as the men had their way with you.

A needy whine escaped your mouth as your body shook, abruptly jolting you awake, making your eyes snap open.

You were so close…

“Good dream baby?�� Logan smirked, his fingers already trailing south towards the evidence of your horny subconscious. Leaning his head against his hand, he knew you had a sex dream before you could confirm or deny. He had smelt your arousal.

“The best.” You blushed, letting out a soft gasp as his fingers dipped inside your moist folds.

“Is that so? Who was it? Whoever it was I bet they can’t fuck you like I can.” Logan was already rolling on top of you, determined to prove a point.

The apparent jealousy in his voice made you chuckle, making your train of thought resume its journey. What a wild thought you had had.

If only he knew...

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

You’ve bewitched me

Summary: A war lasting three years became heavy on the front lines. Many people died and lost their homes from the actions of one kingdom. But to end the war, both kingdoms agreed to seal an alliance through an arranged marriage. Caught in a loveless marriage with the crown prince, a whirlwind of emotions blasts through foreign land as you try to make your life in the enemy kingdom bearable.

Warnings: slow-burn. Leon is a piece of dick in the beginning. angst. eventual smut. arranged marriage. reader is a princess and Leon is the crown prince. enemies to lovers (i think?). inaccurate historical information. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

Word Count: 11,222

A/N: sorry for not posting in a while, life’s been a bit tough but I’m back better than ever. I want to make this a mini serious (like probably three chapters) but I’ll see how this goes.

[pt.2][pt.3]

“I just can’t say goodnight” — Cosmic, Red Velvet

The Three-Year War was the start of a new era. An era in which two rival kingdoms finally join together in an allegiance. But the memory of how the war began was one that all too many remembered deeply.

It started with a small fight between the two kings over a land of territory that was unowned to either kingdom. Your father, the king of the Kingdom of the Coast, had found a mine in which gold was discovered. Immense amounts of gold hidden beneath the layers of rock called for his attention, which also called the attention of another king.

The Kingdom of the West noticed some strange activity in between the borders of both kingdoms, and the king sent a small army to figure out what was going on. Much to his surprise, the soldiers found citizens of the kingdom of the coast roaming close to the border that separated the two kingdoms and were immediately drawn to the defensive. The two kingdoms hated each other, although not a surprising fact. Both sides argued about who gets to own the mine, debates and meetings sparked between both kings, both claiming the mine was their right.

You didn’t know the full story, as princess of your kingdom, your duty didn’t lie with politics and war. Your duties were much different. When the king left the castle to join in on the war, you sat by the window hopelessly waiting for his return, and he did return, he came back with news of marriage.

And so here you are, on a carriage ride to the Kingdom of the West, foreign lands filled the view of the carriage window but that wasn’t what you focused on. Your thoughts circled back to when your father came back and broke the news of your sudden engagement.

“You are to not argue with the king!” your father said as he slammed his fists against his desk in frustration, “You will get married to the Crown Prince of the West Kingdom whether you like it or not. It is not your duty to argue, it is your duty to obey.”

Even though you knew you had no say in the marriage, you still sought freedom in choosing who to be wedded to. Mother has told you stories about how she had the chance to choose her husband among many suitors, and for years you believed you’d go through the same thing. Only for your hopes to be crushed in the midst of a war.

Upon arriving at the castle of the West Kingdom, you felt a bit unnerved. You were an enemy on foreign land, you had the disadvantage, one that you believed would make you suffer.

“Your Royal Highness, we’ve arrived,” said the servant driving the carriage. As you stepped out of the carriage, you saw a line of servants and maids lined up on the sides of the entrance, along with the royal family.

“Ah, you’re here,” said the king of the West Kingdom as he bowed at you, “Welcome, I hope the journey was not too tiring.”

You knew he only spoke out of respect but there was an underlying emotion that made you believe he didn’t mean it, “Your Majesty,” you said as you curtsied the king, right before you turned your attention to the young man next to him, his son.

His son stood tall, eyes boring into yours with judgment and even resentment. But he didn’t say anything, only bowing along with his father. His icy blue eyes held hatred, one that he had no shame in hiding. His blonde hair was neatly slicked back as his attire screamed rich and royal.

“This is my son, Crown Prince Leon,” the king said before he snapped his fingers and a maid came up to help you with your bags, “Come right in, my servants will show you to your chambers and then we’ll attend dinner.”

The king turned around to leave, wasting no second in going back inside the palace, all while his son glared at you before he followed right behind his father. For a welcome, it definitely went better than you had thought.

Your chambers were exquisite and quite extravagant, very different from home. Curtains hung from the ceiling over the bed, the very big bed. The windows were big enough to see just outside the gardens and training grounds. The room itself was like any other royal room, excessive decorations adorned the walls but it wasn’t something you weren’t used to.

“Your Royal Highness, we are your ladies-in-waiting, it is our honor to make your acquaintance,” a woman said as she bowed her head at you, followed by two other women behind her. You simply nodded and returned the bow, “Pleasured to make your acquaintance,” you replied softly.

“Let us help you prepare for dinner, the king does not like waiting,” she said right before the three of them started to work diligently on helping you into new clothes.

-

Dinner with the king and his son was a bit awkward. The table was silent, a contrast to how your family ate during dinner. Maybe it was because it was just Leon and the king, but even then it was too quiet.

“So, princess,” the king started as he sipped from his wine cup, “how are you liking the palace?”

“It’s beautiful, Your Majesty,” you replied.

The king chuckled, almost as if he knew his castle was beautiful, “Yes, yes, quite the vision for a foreigner,” he said.

“An enemy,” Leon suddenly spoke up for the first time today, “She’s not a foreigner, she’s the enemy,” his tone was bitter and cold. His hands gripping his silverware tight enough to turn his knuckles white. The king stiffened slightly before he downed his wine and set the cup back down, all while staring into the abyss.

“Son,” the king said in a quiet mutter but loud enough for you to hear, “the war is over. She’s going to be your wife, show some respect.”

But Leon didn’t like that. He slammed his silverware down against the table, servants turning their heads to look at Leon as he glared at you, “She’s anything but my wife. She’s a murderer and an enemy. I will not show my respect,” he said right before he stood up and stormed out of the dining hall. The king sighed after the doors slammed closed and you could only stare down at your plate.

“I apologize for my son–he,” the king said as he tried to come up with an excuse for his son’s behavior, only to not be able to say anything else for the remainder of dinner. It was clear that feelings of hatred still lingered from the war even though the war allegedly ended.

“Have a goodnight, princess,” he muttered before he stood up and also left the dining hall, leaving you alone with your half eaten plate.

This was your life from now on. A loveless marriage in a castle where you’re hated by everyone.

-

Months passed after your first day in the palace and not one had it been an easy one for you. Leon avoided you altogether and wouldn’t dare be in the same room as you, he wanted you to know his hatred for you and your kingdom. It became pointless trying to talk to him when you saw him in the halls as he’d turn around and walk in the direction he came from. Or if he was feeling bold, he’d walk right past you without acknowledging you. He loathed you.

Leon’s schedule was busy, as the heir of the throne and son of the current king, he had to manage some of the duties that came with that role. However, he wasn’t always busy, he only locked himself in his study and stuffed himself in tomorrow’s work to avoid you. His hatred ran deep and rooted in a dark place at the bottom of his heart. But he did have an outlet; sword training.

Many days and many nights he’d spend his time outside in the training grounds to let out all his pent up anger. And this only made you feel more alone.

When it was the day of the wedding, both families met together in a church. It was supposed to be a good day for you, weddings were supposed to be a blessing, but this one seemed like a curse. Both kings were delighted as this meant that they were now allies. It was a bit weird seeing your father and Leon’s father get along like childhood friends but there was nothing you could do. Both kingdoms were now united and the war has officially been declared to be over.

Leon, however, didn’t kiss you on the altar. He only gave you a nod, but hey, it was something different from the usual glares.

So now, here you were, in your shared chambers sitting on your vanity stool as you brushed your hair. It was nighttime and Leon had yet to come to bed. He’s always done this. Even though you were now husband and wife, he did everything he could to establish a barrier with you. He’d sleep on the couch near the fireplace as you slept alone on the bed, he’d purposefully wake up earlier as to not greet you in the morning, and he’d come back late at night to not see you awake.

He was a cruel and cold man who wanted nothing with you. You were just about to make your way to the bed when the door suddenly opened. Leon didn’t even spare a glance at you as he made his way to the couch, sitting down and ruffling his hair as he sighed heavily. You stared at him from the reflection of your vanity mirror, watching as he closed his eyes and leaned back against the backrest of the couch. He looked exhausted and if you were in any other circumstances, you’d ask what was wrong. But unfortunately, you knew it would be useless.

The man hated you and there was nothing you could do to change his mind.

“I heard you were making plans to change the garden,” he suddenly said, his eyes still closed as he spoke to you in his distant tone. You turned around on your stool to face him, “Yes, I wanted to replace a few flowers,” you replied softly.

Leon let out a dry scoff before he opened his eyes and looked at you, “And you didn’t consult me about it?” he asked coldly. He stood up to his full height and walked over to you, standing at a distance as he also loathed the idea of touching you.

“You think you can go behind my back and change the place however you want?” he asked lowly as he glared down at you, “I am the Crown Prince, I don’t care if the gardens lie under your duties, you consult me first. Do you understand?”

“Yes but–”

“Do not defy me,” he muttered as he took a step closer to you, “You think you can waltz in here and change everything without ever checking with me?” he then scoffed humorlessly and smirked in a mocking manner, “That’s what your people ever seem to do. You take and you take until you’re full, and forget about everyone else, don’t you?”

“Well, let me tell you something, princess,” he said your title out of spite, “You’re nothing but my wife here. You may be the future queen but you still have to obey me first. Whatever I say goes, and if I want the damn garden to stay that way then it will stay that way,” he muttered with an edge of threat in his tone.

He continued to glare at you, eyes boring into yours with so much resentment. And all you could was nod at him, “Yes, Your Highness,” you replied weakly in a whisper. Leon stared at you for a few seconds longer before he scoffed and walked back to the couch, not wanting to be bothered by you anymore.

-

The next day was busy for you, as future queen of the kingdom, there were a few things you needed to learn about the West Kingdom.

“Again,” the teacher said in a neutral tone as you sat in the library with books stacked on the table, “It’s not too hard to understand.”

You sighed frustratingly, you’ve been reading the same chapter for thirty minutes and you couldn't understand, “Easy for you to say, you’ve been living here your whole life. I’ve been here for three months and I still don’t understand how this kingdom works.”

“Princess, if I may be so bold,” he said as he looked at you, “you’re a smart lady, you understood everything thus far, what’s preventing you from understanding this minor detail?”

You knew what the teacher was insinuating, he thinks you’re distracted. And you know how he feels about distractions, with another sigh you spoke in a much quieter tone, “I just… I just have a lot on my mind, that’s all.

“Do you now?” he asked quietly as he seemed to be observing and analyzing your behavior.

“Yes, I do,” you replied a bit more firmly, even though you didn’t mean to come off as defensive, you couldn’t help but feel that way. It was as if Leon had conditioned you to stay that way during your stay.

Everyone in the palace, the servants and the maids, were well aware of Leon’s mistreatment towards you. He wasn’t one to shy away from letting everyone of his hatred for you. Some pitied you but they wouldn’t dare go against Leon as he was the crown prince.

“It’s the crown prince, isn’t he?” The teacher said bluntly and almost unimpressed. You, however, felt a bit surprised. Were you that obvious?

“How do you know?” You muttered softly as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Who doesn’t know? All you two ever do is argue, well it’s mostly him, but you get my point.

Shame is what you felt upon his answer. Was that how everyone saw the relationship between you and Leon? You were supposed to be husband and wife, a beacon of peace between two kingdoms and yet, you were more apart than the Atlantic sea.

“I just—I don’t know,” you muttered, “it’s like everything I do angers him. I tried to be kind to him and show respect but all he does is shut me down and pretend I don’t even exist.”

“He hasn’t even said a single kind word to me,” you continued as the teacher remained silent, “I know he didn’t ask for this, but I also didn’t. I just wish he could understand *me*.”

There was a silence that overtook between you and the teacher, as if he was contemplating what to say, “The crown prince has been through a lot,” he said after a few moments of silence, “all he needs is time and he’ll come around, eventually.”

“Eventually,” you repeated under your breath. It may have only been three months but you’d hoped that he would at least be a bit kinder to you. Much to your dismay, you knew that wouldn’t happen anytime soon.

After your studies, you roamed around the castle, trying to familiarize yourself with the structure. It was a bid castle, bigger than your own castle back home. Oh how you missed home.

You missed your bed, your friends, your family, the food they’d serve—you missed everything. Here, you were alone with a husband who hates you.

As you were about to make turn around the corner of the hall, someone’s hand suddenly covered your mouth as you felt them move you to pin you against the wall. It was a knight.

Your eyes widened but the knight held you firmly in place with one hand on your mouth and the other on your waist. Your heart was beating fast and your chest heaved up and down. Your maids walked on without you.

“Shh, princess,” the knight murmured in a sultry tone, “we don’t want to cause a scene, now do we?” You quickly shook your head ‘no’ terrified that he would do something to you.

The knight smirked and held you firmly in place against the wall, loving how scared of him you looked.

“Such a pretty thing…” His hand on your waist started to wander, his fingers brushing over your corset.

“I’ve wanted you for a while now….”

He moved closer to speak into your ear, his hand on your mouth moving to your hair to hold a fistful of it, while the other hand continued to wander.

“Let me go,” you whispered and closed your eyes tightly shut as you felt him hold your hair in a fist, ruining your hairstyle while his other hand roamed your corset.

Your hands gripped the wall, you were beyond terrified. How dare he lay his hands on a married woman—a married princess.

The knight didn’t listen to your pleas, continuing to keep you pinned against the wall, his hands now grabbing your hips.

“Shhh,” he murmured, his lips now against your neck, “I want you all to myself.”

The knight started to undo some of the laces at the back of your corset. Your eyes widened slightly as you your hands quickly traveled to hold your corset up against your breasts to ensure that it wouldn’t fall.

“What are you doing—stop,” you ordered the knight.

The knight continued to undo the laces, the smirk on his face only growing as you tried to hold your corset up.

“Shh, don’t be like that, princess,” He murmured, his lips still against your neck as his hand moved to your wrists, “Let me do this…”

He started to loosen your corset, his hand then moving to squeeze your hip. He was too busy to notice Leon and the king, who were walking down the other side of the hall.

The laces of your corset were fully undone, the strings hanging down your back as you held the material up your chest, “My husband is the heir to the throne, he’ll have you decapitated if he sees you,” you threatened.

But you didn’t know if Leon would even do that for you. Leon hated you, he despised you to the point where he ignored your existence on a daily basis.

The knight simply smirked against your neck, his hands starting to wander and exploring your body.

“I doubt the crown prince would care,” he replied huskily, his hand cupping your breast through the fabric, “He doesn’t love you.”

As the king and Leon continued down the hall, Leon suddenly froze, a look of anger immediately appearing on his face. His anger grew as he saw you in the knight’s embrace. His father had no reaction, but Leon was pissed.

He walked down the hall quickly to you and the knight, staring at you with a hard glare. Leon’s jaw clenched as his eyes flicked to all the loose laces of your corset.

“What is the meaning of this?!” The king angrily exclaimed as he and Leon walked over to the knight.

You looked over at the King and Leon from behind the knight and felt even more worse. You felt embarrassed and ashamed of being seen like this. So you directed your attention to the floor as you tried not to cry.

The knight froze when he heard the king and Leon’s footsteps and voices, his hands freezing and the smirk on his face falling.

He quickly removed his hands from you, stepping away and quickly bowing in the king’s presence.

“Your majesty,” he said in a hurry, sweat forming on his forehead.

Leon stood behind his father, his eyes locked on you, taking in your appearance. His mind was a mixture of anger and disgust, seeing you with your laces undone and your corset askew.

When the knight took his hands off of you and took a step back, you fell down to the floor and held your corset up as to not expose yourself further.

You still avoided all their gazes, it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t want any of this to happen to you.

“What were you thinking?!” The king started to reprimand the knight, “How dare you disrespect the lady of the house like that?!”

Leon’s eyes were locked on your face. He was angry. No. Enraged. Furious. Watching the knight touch you, the man’s hands on your body, groping you, made his blood boil.

He hated you. He hated you so much. But no one could touch you like that. You’re his wife. His property.

The king continued to yell at the knight, while Leon walked over to you and knelt down in front of you.

“Once we go back home, I’ll make sure you to punish you,” the king said the knight in a harsh tone, “Let’s go.”

He then looked down at you and Leon before he started to walk away with his knight trailing behind him. The moment it was just Leon and you in the hall, you could practically feel the anger rolling off of him. He clenched his fists at his sides, his jaw clenched and teeth gritted.

He couldn’t believe it. The sight of the knight’s hands on you, his lips on your neck, his hands cupping your breast… it made him see red.

He hated you. He despised you. But you were his. His wife. No one else was supposed to touch you like that.

Your maids were frantically looking for you and then they found you on the floor with Leon kneeling in front of you.

“My Lady,” one of them said as they ran over to both of you. They slowly helped you up, covering you body as they held you corset up, “Oh my,” another said under her breath.

My maids looked at Leon and bowed at him, “Excuse us, Your Highness,” one said before they started to drag you to your shared chambers. Leon stood up and watched as your maids hurried over to you, their eyes widening at your appearance.

For a moment, he considered whether or not to have the knight killed for what he did. He hated you. But you were his, and he wanted to make sure you knew that. He wouldn’t ever let another man touch you like that. But he also wouldn’t ever let anyone disrespect him like that.

The maids took you to your shared quarters where they helped you out of your dress and into your nightdress, getting you ready for sleep since it was already quite dark outside. Once you were dressed for the night, your maids left your quarters.

It was late at night. Leon went to his study to finish up some paperwork, before finally heading to yours and his shared quarters.

He was still enraged over what happened. The thought of the knight touching you, his hands on your body… it had Leon seeing red.

But why? Why did it anger him so much? It was because you were his wife and no one else was allowed to touch you. Not because he loved you, or even cared for you. Because you were his property.

When he was done with his paperwork, Leon entered the quarters, and immediately spotted you at the vanity desk. He still couldn’t get the sight of your appearance from what happened. Seeing you with your laces undone and your corset askew, the knight’s hands all over your body… it angered him for some unknown reason.

He slammed the door behind him, the sound echoing in the room as he stalked over to you. Your eyes widened and you visibly flinched when he suddenly slammed the door behind him.

“What happened,” he asked coldly, his voice low and harsh as he continued to approach you.

“What?” You muttered under your breath in mild shock.

But then you realized what he wanted, he wanted you to explain the whole thing. You swallowed dryly as you looked up at him, “I was walking with my maids until someone pulled me back and…” you muttered. Even talking about it made you uncomfortable.

Leon’s anger towards you made me uncomfortable, especially because you didn’t understand why he was so angry. His kingdom won the war yet he still saw you as his enemy, “But I tried to fight him off and I told him to stop. I even said you’d decapitate him but he didn’t listen.”

Leon’s anger only grew as he heard you recall what happened, that knight’s hands all over you while you tried to fight him off. The thought of it only made him even more enraged. How dare he touch you like that, and in the halls like that.

“Stupid woman,” he said scathingly, his deep voice full of disdain for you, “Of course he didn’t listen, he clearly didn’t care about what I’d do to him.”

You furrowed my brows and parted your lips as he called you that, Stupid woman.

It repeated in your mind several times, which caused your eyes to water. Did he think you enjoyed being harassed like that? You looked down at the floor, what else would you expect from Leon if it wasn’t going to be harsh words.

Leon’s eyes darkened at the sight of your watery eyes. He didn’t care if he offended or hurt you, as he saw you as nothing more than an obstacle.

“Clearly he thought you were some whore,” he continued, his words harsh and cold, “What else would he think? It’s not the first time something like this has happened, after all.”

He looked at you, a scornful look in his eyes. He hated you, but the thought of another man’s hands on you, it ignited a fire within him.

You looked back up at him in shock, did he just call you a whore? You were a princess, born and raised to be graceful and elegant and he reduces you to a whore? You felt disrespected.

“It is the first time a man has laid their hands on me,” you quickly argued back as you stood up, a tear rolling down your cheek, you’ve had enough of him, “You won’t even touch me. We haven’t even tried for an heir like your father wanted!”

Leon clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as you spoke. You had a point, a very valid point. But he wouldn’t admit that.

“Don’t expect me to actually want to touch you,” he sneered, his voice dripping with disgust, “You’re just the price I had to pay to stop the war. I’ll have heirs, but they won’t be yours. I’ll never allow my children to share your blood.”

He took a step closer to you, his eyes cold and hard. A scoff escaped your lips, “You’re calling me a whore when you just admitted you’d have heirs with other women?” You said in disbelief.

“You are a selfish bastard, your heart is brittle and rotten,” you whispered harshly to him as another tear rolled down.

Leon’s eyes darkened at your words. Selfish bastard. He knew that’s what you thought of him, but hearing you actually admit it angered him. But not as much as the thought of having heirs with you.

“You’re the one who’s delusional,” he spat, “You’re not worthy enough to have my heirs or the title of queen. That’s the only reason I’ll be lying with other women.”

He took another step closer, his jaw clenching. He loathed you. Hated you.

Him admitting that hurt you beyond belief. It was like something in you and you gave up. Hearing him not just say that he’ll lay with other women but that you were useless as well hurt.

You looked at him with pain in your eyes, your jaw clenched as you tried to hold back your tears, “Fine,” you whispered in a resigned tone.

“Go ahead. Sleep around with other women,” you muttered, “Just don’t complain when your name gets brought up in a brothel for being their number one customer.”

You gave up. He hated you beyond repair and nothing you could do could change that. So you simply just decided to stop. The mere thought of him being with other women hurt more than you thought it would. All my life you’ve been taught and raised to be the fitting queen by his side. What purpose did you have now?

Leon was caught off guard by your resigned tone and the look in your eyes. He wasn’t expecting you to give up like this. He expected more of a fight from you.

“I will,” he said firmly, his eyes still cold and hard, “In fact, I’ll start tonight.”

His words stung. He wanted heirs, but not from his “arranged” wife, you. He could only imagine the children you could raise together, but he could never allow himself to even think about it.

Your heart broke even more. Tonight? Your mouth gaped open but you quickly closed it and remained silent as your eyes watered. You couldn’t do anything.

“Alright,” you whispered, “Go on. I won’t stop you,” you turned around and went over to your bed.

You sat down on the edge, taking off your shoes. Then you blew out your candle and laid down on the bed, bringing the covers up to your chin and closed your eyes. You did not want to cry but why does it feel like you are?

Leon could simply only watch you. He expected you to get angry and lash out at him, but instead, you simply accepted it.

The sight of you on the bed, pulling the covers up to your chin with tears in your eyes, stirred something in him. But he forced it down. He hated you. He’d always hate you.

“I won’t be coming back here tonight,” he said coldly, his voice harsh and emotionless, as he turned and headed for the door.

Leon could hear your soft whimpers as he headed towards the door, but he ignored them. He didn’t care if you were crying or not. He didn’t care how hurt you were because of him. All he cared about was himself.

Even though he felt something stir in him when he saw you on the bed, crying and upset, he forced it down. He continued to ignore it as he opened the door and left. He wouldn’t come back tonight. He was going to find a woman he actually liked. One that wasn’t you.

Leon walked away from the quarters. He headed out of the palace and out into the town.

Tonight, he was going to visit the taverns to find a woman to spend the night with. The thought of you was still in the back of his mind, but he pushed it down, determined to have a distraction from the thoughts of you crying in bed alone.

He could have a woman or two in a tavern, and that would distract him. Perhaps when he returned, you’d be asleep and he wouldn’t have to think about you at all.

The nearest tavern was full of women lingering around in skimpy gowns, obviously known as the hookers that attracted attention to the business.

But amidst all the women, could he really just forget about you? The hurt in you eyes, your bottom lip slightly trembling whenever you’d cry, or the way your eyes would look like a wounded puppy? Could he really find a distraction from that gnawing feeling at his chest with a woman who’d forget him next thing in the morning?

He was the crown prince, everyone wanted a piece of him, but no one dared. The women looked at him, but didn’t approach him. In their eyes, he too high up in the ranks. Leon could feel the eyes of the women in the tavern on him as he entered.

But he couldn’t have you, even though you were his wife. That was the problem. He could be with any woman, but he would never allow himself to allow you to get close to him because he hated you.

But as he continued to look around, Leon began to falter. He began to grow frustrated. Because every woman he looked at, he found himself comparing to you.

The women were no match for you, and as much as he hated to admit it, he knew it was true. You were beautiful and gracious, and the women in the tavern could never compare.

He grew frustrated by this realization. He was the crown prince. He could have any woman he wanted, yet no one here seemed worthy of him. He let out a frustrated sigh, his eyes still scanning the crowd of drunken soldiers and whores. None of them compared to you, and he hated knowing that.

Leon had spent hours in the tavern, but he found no one who could compare to you. It was infuriating. No matter who he looked at, you were the one he kept thinking about.

As the night continued to drag on, Leon began to think it was time to return to the castle. It was getting late, and the longer he was away, the more he would think about you. With a grumble, he left the tavern and headed back towards the castle.

Leon entered the castle, still feeling frustrated and annoyed. He had wasted hours at the tavern, only to come back to the castle empty-handed.

The halls were quiet as he made his way down, heading to the quarters he shared with you. He knew you were asleep this late, and the thought of you being fast asleep in bed annoyed him, but not as much as the thought of seeing you crying.

When he pushed open the door to your shared quarters, his eyes landed on you. You were asleep, your hair fanned out over the pillow, looking beautiful even in your sleep. He mentally cursed himself for thinking you were attractive.

Leon shut the door behind him, watching you sleep for a few moments. He couldn't deny how beautiful you looked, even in your sleep. Your hair was spread out on the pillow, and the way the moonlight hit your face, it was beautiful.

But Leon quickly squashed that thought. He hated you, he despised you. He could never find anything about you beautiful or attractive, no matter what.

He walked over to the bed, looking down at you as you slept soundly, unbothered by his arrival. Leon couldn't help but watch you as you shifted in your sleep, rolling onto your back. You looked beautiful, even with tear stains on your cheeks, presumably from crying after he left for the tavern.

He should've been thinking about the women he met at the tavern. He should've been comparing them to you, wanting to hurt you by going on about how much more beautiful they were. But Leon found himself unable to do that. He couldn't compare you to the tavern whores. In his eyes, none of them came close to your beauty.

He hated you, but not even he could deny that you were the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. Leon let out a quiet sigh, looking to the couch by the fireplace. He would be on the couch, and nothing more. He would never sleep in the bed with you.

When morning rolled up, your maids came into the room to help get ready for the day. All while you didn’t spare Leon a glance. His words deeply hurt you and you had given up on him.

He was free to do what he wanted, not like you had a say in the first place, his servants came into the room to help get dressed for the day as well.

“Your Highness,” one of your maids said as she started to do your hair as you sat on your vanity stool, “The gardener is here to help you renovate the garden.”

“Ah,” you replied to her, “I forgot to cancel the renovation plans. I’ll meet him downstairs,” The maid nodded and continued with your hair. When she was done helping you, you made your way out of the room and towards the lobby of the castle.

Once you reached downstairs with your maids behind you, you spoke French to the gardener since he was French, “Bonjour, je suis désolé mais j’ai peur de devoir annuler les plans pour le jardin.”

Leon’s servants, once he was dressed, started to follow him downstairs as he also had business to do. Or maybe training. Who knew what his schedule was.

The French gardener looked at you in surprise as you spoke to him in perfect French. He didn't expect you to speak the language, but it was a pleasant surprise nevertheless. Your maids were also quite surprised to hear you were fluent in another language, you must’ve learned foreign languages back home.

"Ah, Bonjour," he replied with a smile, "Ce n’est pas grave, Votre Altesse, je pourrais toujours vous donner mes conseils pour l’avenir si vous le souhaitez.”

Leon's servants followed him as he made his way downstairs, his ears perked and listening to the conversation between you and the gardener. He wasn’t aware you could speak another language so fluently.

You nodded, figuring that some advice wouldn’t hurt anyone. You started to walk towards the gardens with your maids behind you as the gardener walked next to you.

Once you reached outside, you spoke to the gardener, in French, about how you wanted to change some of the flowers and replace them with better ones.

“My Lord,” one of his servants said to Leon, “the grounds are ready for you to practice sword fighting, Your instructor is waiting.”

He grunted in response to his servant, "Very well. I shall head there now," He was about to turn and walk away when he suddenly changed his mind.

"Actually," he said to the servant, "I shall go outside first," The servant's brow furrowed in confusion, but Leon ignored him. He began walking outside instead, heading towards the garden area, seemingly wanting to follow you.

As Leon walked towards the garden area, his servants followed behind him. Some were confused and others surprised at the sudden change of plans.

“Je veux me débarrasser des tournesols, ils bloquent les roses de l'autre côté du buisson,” you said to the gardener, unaware of Leon approaching the garden area, “Pouvez-vous remplacer les tournesols par des pivoines?”

The French gardener nodded at your suggestion, "Bien sûr. Nous pouvons certainement remplacer les tournesols par des pivoines. Elles seront de bien meilleures plantes en cette période de l'année."

The gardener began to think, "Peut-être devrions-nous aussi semer des jacinthes pour ajouter un peu de variété."

As the gardener spoke, Leon continued to walk towards the garden area. His eyes narrowed as he heard the sound of you and the gardener speaking in French. He was feeling suspicious.

“My Lord,” one of Leon’s servants followed behind him, “Shall we introduce you to the gardener? He came all this way from France.”

Leon grunted in response to his servant, his gaze still focused on you and the gardener. The way you smiled at the gardener made his blood boil.

As you both continued to speak in French, his servants looked at each other, some looking confused while others looked amused. They knew of his hatred for you, and they could tell that he was irritated by you speaking to the gardener.

Finally, Leon came to a stop a few feet behind you, his arms crossed over his chest. He remained silent, listening to the conversation between you and the gardener.

You hadn’t noticed Leon behind you but your maids, however, did notice and they glanced at the servants with a nervous expression, one that said ‘what is he doing here?’. It seemed that Leon’s irritation and anger was evident.

“Your Highness,” your maids said as they curtsied. The greeting making you a bit stiff as you turned and noticed Leon. You looked up at him, confused and a bit surprised. But the pain in your heart was still present. You followed after your maids, also curtsying Leon.

Leon's expression darkened as you both turned around to face him. His eyes were hard as they met yours, the irritation and anger written all over his face.

His servants stood quietly behind him, their eyes flickering between Leon and you, unsure of what to do. They could feel the tension in the air, and they could sense their master's anger.

"What are you doing?" Leon asked, his voice low and cold. He glanced at the gardener before looking back at you, his gaze unwavering.

You knew Leon was angry, everyone could tell, even the French gardener. It was as if anger just radiated off of him, “I was just seeking advice,” you said as you looked up at Leon.

“This is Augustus,” you said to Leon, “He’s a good friend of my brother who’s well-versed in gardening. I called for him to help,” you explained in a gentle voice. You would’ve sent him back to France but Leon didn’t really give you time to cancel plans so suddenly.

Leon's eyes narrowed as you explained why you called the gardener. His jaw clenched tightly, and his servants could see his hands balling into fists at his sides.

"Why did you not consult me before calling for this gardener?" he asked, his voice laced with irritation. His eyes flicked to the gardener, Augustus, before returning to you, “I thought I told you to consult me before you went off and made choices of your own.”

"What other plans do you have for the garden?" he continued, his gaze never leaving yours.

You glanced at my maids, seeing their nervous expression before you looked back at Leon. You could already feel the argument coming tonight.

“I wanted to get rid of the sunflowers as well as the weeds and replace them with peonies and hyacinths,” you replied.

“Some of your gardeners have been having trouble taming the weeds so I thought I could help find the root of the problem,” you mumbled softly.

As you spoke, Leon's jaw clenched even tighter. He couldn't believe you hadn't asked for his permission before making plans to change the garden.

"And you thought it was appropriate to invite a friend of your brother's to help without consulting me?" he snapped, his tone cold and biting. His eyes narrowed again as you continued, "What makes you think the problem can be solved so easily? You think you know better than my gardeners?"

Your eyes widened slightly as he snapped at you. You furrowed your brow and opened your mouth to defend yourself but ultimately decided against it. No matter what you say, he’ll just get more mad.

So, in resignation, you sighed and shook your head before you lowered your head, “No, Your Highness,” you said.

Leon's eyes narrowed further as you lowered your head, your submission fueling his anger. He loathed the fact that you so easily backed down, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at your compliance.

"Exactly," he sneered, "You know nothing about gardening. Leave it to the professionals. And next time you plan something, consult me first."

Leon glanced at the gardener, who had been listening in awkwardly. He felt a pang of annoyance at the man's presence.

“My lord,” one of Leon’s servants stood next to him, “we should go back. The instructor is waiting,” he kindly reminded Leon of his sword practice. Leon's eyes flicked over to his servant, a flicker of annoyance passing through them. He wasn't finished speaking to you, but the reminder about his practice session couldn't be ignored.

He gave his servant a terse nod before turning back to you, his expression hardening once more, "This conversation isn't over," he said, his voice low and cold. He shot one final glare at the gardener before turning and walking away, his servants following behind him. He knew the argument was going to continue later.

You knew the conversation was far from over, hell, you even thought he’d make you pay for it. And that was something you dreaded. Once he was gone, you turned to look at your maids.

“Escort the young boy to his carriage,” you said before you looked at the gardener, “Je m'excuse pour ce que vous avez vu, ce fut un plaisir de vous avoir ici.”

The gardener nodded at you, a sympathetic expression on his face. He had seen plenty of couple's disagreements before, but this one seemed particularly intense.

"Ce n'tait pas de votre faute," he said, his voice soft, "Je suis tout de même heureux de vous avoir rencontrée."

You felt bad that about the whole thing. You glanced at your maids and nodded at them, signaling them to take the young gardener away while you remained on the garden.

As Leon practiced on the training ground, his mind was still on the incident in the garden. Your insistence on changing the garden, your lack of asking him for permission, and the way you had spoken to the gardener all boiled his blood.

He couldn't believe that you had invited the gardener without telling him first. Who did you think you were? And the way you had looked so timid, lowering your head in submission like that. It made his blood boil even more.

He swung his sword harder, channeling his anger into his training.

Later. Later, he would deal with you.

For the rest of the day, you spent your time in the library reading and learning about Leon’s kingdom. There was so little that you could do now that Leon was angry at you yet again.

As you sat on a table near a window, you could see Leon practicing on the tracking grounds with other soldiers. The sun was beaming down on them, the sounds of their swords clanking being heard even from the second floor where you were.

You sighed, why did he have to be so rude to you? His kingdom won the war. Shouldn’t that make him happy? But you didn’t want to think about it. You redirected your gaze down towards your book and continued reading.

Some of the soldiers were sitting down, taking a break from their training as they watched Leon train with another soldier.

“Don’t he look more…tense?” One soldier said to the other. The other narrowed his eyes and tried to study Leon before he shook his head, “Huh…I don’t see it.”

“My lord—“ said the soldier Leon was training with, “We must take a break, you’ll hurt yourself.”

Leon ignored the soldier's pleas, his eyes focused on the sword in his hand.

"I don't need a break," he snapped, his voice harsh. No matter how hard he trained, he couldn't shake his annoyance with you. He lunged forward with his sword, aiming a blow at the soldier, who quickly blocked it. The clash of steel on steel echoed through the training grounds.

“Wait,” said the other soldier, “No, yeah, he’s tense,” the two soldiers sitting down nodded as they observed Leon going all out on his training.

The soldier started to block Leon’s blows but did not aim any at Leon. It was dangerous training with someone with so much anger. And that was until the soldier’s sword flew out of his hands and fell on the floor, a victory for Leon.

The two soldiers on the bench clapped and cheered for Leon, “Good work, my lord,” one said. The soldiers of his castle were good friends with Leon. Sometimes they’d go out for drinks after winning a battle.

Leon panted heavily as he stood over the soldier whose sword had been knocked out of his hand. His eyes were still hard and anger burned in them. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm before glancing at the two soldiers who had been watching. He grunted in acknowledgment of their praise but didn’t smile. He dropped his own sword on the ground with a clatter and started walking towards the side of the training grounds. He needed a break.

One of the soldiers tossed Leon a water pouch as the other spoke to the soldier on the floor, “For a rookie, you did pretty good. Not amazing. But good,” he said with a smug smirk.

“Oh shut it, Andrews,” the rookie soldier said as Andrews simply laughed, his laugh echoing out on the training grounds. Andrews was a much older and experienced soldier, the guy next to him, Kyle, was also experienced. But they were both loyal.

Leon stopped for a moment, lifting the water pouch to his lips and taking a long drink. The water cooled his body, but it didn’t do anything to cool his anger.

His eyes flickered up to the castle, seeing your figure sitting at the window. He gritted his teeth, his gaze turning cold. You were the reason he was so angry in the first place.

He handed the water pouch back to the soldiers before turning and walking towards the castle, striding with purpose.

It was time to confront you.

Leon walked angrily through the halls of the castle, his boots thudding loudly against the marble floor. The servants who walked past him quickly scurried out of his way, intimidated by his intense glare. He didn't bother making eye contact with them as he walked.

He made his way towards the library, his mind set on confronting you. You couldn’t just go around making decisions on your own. He was the king, and he would show you your place. Without knocking, he pushed open the door to the library.

You looked up at the sound of the doors being slammed opened and saw Leon. You quickly put your pencil down and stood up, “My lord,” you said in a surprised tone as your eyes widened slightly.

You started fixing your dress as it reached the floor. The dress was a simple yellow dress that was tight from your waist and chest. It wasn’t a corset but the dress did hug your breasts nicely. The sleeves reached your elbows and the fabric was made of silk. Then you walked to stand in front of him with the table behind you. Your hands clasped together in front of you as you looked up at him.

Even in heels, he stood taller than you. But now wasn’t the time to think about that. He hated you and his words from last night still lingered in your mind. Of how he’d rather sleep with other women and have heirs with them than with you.

Leon stalked towards you, his eyes fixed on you with a mixture of anger and annoyance. He looked at your dress, taking in your form, his gaze lingering a beat too long on your chest before he met your eyes again. He could feel himself getting more annoyed just from looking at you. He wanted to yell at you, to reprimand you, to make you understand your place as his wife.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice tense and low.

You nodded slowly, “Alright,” you muttered, “what do you want to talk about?”

Leon clenched his fists at his sides, trying to control his anger, "You had no right to invite that gardener to the castle without my permission. Who do you think you are, making decisions like that without consulting me?"

“I didn’t mean to offend you like that,” you tried to defend yourself, your tone quiet and timid, “I thought I could make my own choices since the gardens fall under my duties as lady of the house.”

He took a step closer, his voice low and menacing, "You need to learn your place, princess. You're my wife, nothing more. You don't make decisions here, I do."

You looked up at him as he stepped closer. His reminder once again being cruel. You were nothing else than just a pawn to him. Something to help get closer to the crown so he’d be king.

He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning over your form again, before he continued, "And another thing...”

“What other thing, my lord,” you muttered and furrowed your brows confused. But, something in you took control and you were getting angry as well, “Did you find a whore last night?” You suddenly asked.

Leon stiffened, his eyes narrowing at your words. He hadn't expected you to bring up the topic of his nighttime activities.

"Yes, I did," he lied, his voice hard, "Why do you ask?"

There was a bitter undertone to his words. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he hadn't been able to go through with his plans to find a woman at the tavern. Every woman he saw paled in comparison to you, and the thought of bedding someone else left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Because whatever you do also affects me,” you muttered and looked up at him with a firm expression.

“Your actions have consequences and I do not want you to squander my reputation. I am a noble lady, not the wife of a man who won’t stop sharing himself to the whores of the night,” you said through gritted teeth. You hated his words. You hated *him.*

Leon's expression darkened at your words, his jaw clenching at being reprimanded by you.

"You have no right to tell me what I can and cannot do," he snapped, "I'll do as I please, and who I please. And it is none of your concern."

He took another step closer, his height towering over you, "You're my wife, that's all. You don't have the right to make decisions, and you certainly don't have the right to shame me for pursuing other...pleasures."

“Don’t you realize what might happen if your father knows that you’ve been having sex with random women and that you bring home an illegitimate son into your family?” You said as you looked up at him with furrowed brows, how could he be so selfish?

“I will not shame you and I am not telling you what to do. Just do things with the consequences in mind,” you muttered as your gaze slowly fell down.

Leon rolled his eyes at your words, his irritation only growing.

"I'm not stupid," he snapped, "I know what the consequences could be to my actions, but I also know that I am a grown man who can make his own decisions. And what would you know about consequences? You've never had to make a hard decision in your life."

He took another step closer, his chest almost touching yours as he leaned in, his voice low, "I'd watch your tone if I were you. Remember your place."

You watched as he took a step closer, his chest so close to yours but you didn’t focus on that. You held my ground, looking up at him.

“Why?” You muttered, “What are you going to do if I don’t watch my tone? I’m only trying to look out after you. After us.”

He may hate you, and he may have a reason why. But you didn’t want his actions to drag you down as well.

"I appreciate your concern," he said, his voice sarcastic, "But I don't need you to look out for me. I can handle myself."

He took a step closer, so close that you could feel his breath on your skin, "And if you don't start watching your tone, you might find yourself with a sore arse."

You furrowed your brow and stared in disbelief and fear. Was he seriously going to put his hands on you?

“A sore arse? Do you hear yourself?” You mumbled. He was getting too close. For a moment you were confused because he’d never touch you and yet here he was. Telling you he was going to spank you.

“You dare lay your hands on me?” You muttered, “What would the people think if they found out that you…that you…”

You inhaled and looked at him, “Your people will be displeased if they hear that you lay your hands on your wife,” you muttered.

Leon's expression darkened as you challenged him, his jaw clenching. He didn't like being threatened by you, not one bit.

"And who do you think the people would believe?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous, "Me, the future king, or you, the useless princess who serves no purpose other than to warm my bed at night."

You narrowed your eyes at him, to hear that words come from his mouth was hurting. Especially since he’s been treating you as if you were nothing.

“I won’t bother you,” you whispered, it seemed that no matter what you say he’d still find something to be angry at you about. It was pointless talking to him.

Leon's expression softened slightly as he saw the pain in your eyes, but he quickly steeled himself, refusing to show any signs of compassion.

"Good," he said coldly, "Because you're already a nuisance as it is."

He took a step back, putting some distance between you and him, his arms crossing over his chest.

"Just stay out of my way," he said, his voice still cold, "And try not to make my life even more difficult than it already is."

You nodded and curtsied before you took my books from the table and left the library. You didn’t want him to see you cry, not after last night and not after this morning. It seemed as if he only ever made you cry.

You walked the halls of the castle with your books in your arms, your heels echoing in the air as you maneuvered to your shared quarters. Tears blurred your vision.

Once you entered our room, you closed the door behind you and put your books on your vanity desk before you plopped down on your bed. The bed that only you slept in. You stuffed your face in one of the pillows and just let it all out.

Curse this kingdom. Curse the war. Curse your father for giving you to Leon, a heartless man. You hated everything.

Leon watched you as you walked away, a pang of guilt in his chest at the sight of your tears as the library door closed behind you. He knew that he was being harsh with you, but he had to be. He couldn't let himself get close to you, no matter how much the part of him that wanted to comfort you grew.

He clenched his jaw and pushed down the guilt, reminding himself of the pain that you represented. The pain of the war, the pain of their families' deaths.

He turned and walked away, heading back towards the training fields.

As he entered the training grounds, Andrews noticed Leon’s conflicted expression, “Now that’s a face I haven’t seen since the war,” he pointed out as he blocked one of Leon’s attacks with his sword.

Leon grunted as Andrews blocked his attack, his expression hardening once again as he lunged forward with a flurry of attacks.

"Shut up," he said through gritted teeth, "I'm just a bit distracted, that's all."

He slashed at Andrews with his sword, the blade narrowly missing the other man's shoulder. Leon's moves were a bit more sloppy than usual, his mind still occupied with thoughts of you. Andrews, being one of Leon’s most loyal friends, knew something else was wrong with Leon. But he wasn’t going to spell it out for him.

“If you say so,” he muttered before he blocked another one of Leon’s attacks, followed by a strike against Leon’s side. Andrews was very good at fighting, being older and the captain of the castle’s defense allowed him to be the best.

Leon hissed as Andrews' sword hit his side, the impact knocking the air out of him. He stumbled back, his hand going to his side as he regained his breath, annoyance replacing the guilt he had been feeling.

"You bastard," he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Andrews. He lunged forward once again, this time going on the offensive as he swung his sword towards Andrews' chest.

Andrews raised a brow and moved to the side before he swiped his leg under Leon’s feet, watching as he fell down on the floor.

Then, Andrews knelt down and offered him a hand to stand up, “You fight with too much emotion. What’s going on?” He spoke firmly. He pulled Leon up on his feet, walking back towards the side bench and tossed Leon a water pouch.

Leon grumbled as he caught the water pouch and taking a deep draught from it. He sat down on the bench next to Andrews, his hands resting on his knees as he looked at the ground.

"It's... complicated," he said finally, his voice low.

He paused, not wanting to admit what he was feeling, but he knew Andrews wouldn't give up that easily. He was a stubborn bastard.

After taking a swig from his own water pouch, Andrews rested his forearms on his knees, leaning forward as he glanced at Leon.

“Complicated?” he muttered as he straightened up and took another swig. He then put his pouch down on the bench and looked back at Leon.

“It’s only complicated if you give it too much thought,” Andrews said.

Leon let out a scoff, rolling his eyes.

"Easy for you to say," he muttered, "You're not the one who married someone you're supposed to hate."

He clenched his jaw, his hands gripping his knees tightly. The memory of your tear-streaked face came back to him, and he felt that damn pang of guilt again.

"You don't know what it's like," he said, his voice low and bitter.

Andrews hummed and nodded slowly, “Supposed to,” he repeated in a mutter before he turned his head to look at the other soldiers sparring.

“I don’t know what it’s like to be married to someone I hate,” Andrews spoke after a few seconds of silence, “but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t understand what it’s like to see it.”

“The lady…” he spoke slowly, “I’ve only ever met her once back when she first moved in,” Andrews chuckled at the memory, “Poor lady was lost roaming around the castle she ended up here and nearly got her head caught off.”

Leon couldn’t help but chuckle slightly at the memory as well. He himself hadn’t been there when you had wandered into the training grounds, but he had heard all about it from the knights.

“Yeah, she’s not exactly the most observant,” he muttered, his voice laced with a hint of affection, though he quickly bit down on his tongue to stop himself. He looked up at Andrews, his expression turning slightly bitter again.

"What are you getting at?" he asked, his voice guarded.

Andrews sighed and looked at Leon, “What I’m trying to say is,” he muttered softly, “the princess came from far away, ripped from her home and she obviously doesn’t know things about this place.”

“You can’t expect her to know everything. She’s…alone,” he muttered and looked back at the knights sparring, “Put yourself in her shoes. You’re being wedded to someone from the enemy kingdom and you’re being sent to foreign terrain where you know absolutely nothing about. And turns out your partner hates you and you don’t even know why, see what I’m trying to say?”

“She didn’t start the war but she helped you finish it. That’s a sacrifice not many are willing to make,” Andrews said before he took a swig of his water pouch.

Leon's jaw clenched as he listened to Andrews.

He knew what he was saying was true, but it was easier said than done. His resentment towards you ran deep, and even though he knew you weren't responsible for the war, he couldn't help but feel resentment towards you by association.

"I know," he mumbled, his voice low, "But it's not that simple. It's not just about the war. It's about everything."

He paused, his grip on his knees tightening, "It's about our families. The people we lost. It's all...complicated."

“And no one says it’ll ever be easy,” Andrews continued, “but you haven’t given her a chance to adapt. She doesn’t have anyone. She’s alone in a place where she’s hated, it’s a surprise she’s made it this long without begging her father to go back home.”

Andrews sighed and looked at Leon, “No one is telling you to forgive and forget. The war was scarring and many lives were lost. But to blame it all on the lady who doesn’t know a thing about swords seems very wrong to me.”

He then put his hand on Leon’s shoulder in a friendly manner, “At the end of the day, she isn’t your enemy. She never will be and she can’t. She’s here.”

Leon let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He knew, deep down, that Andrews was right. You hadn't started the war, and you had no control over the actions of the king. But the feelings of anger and resentment towards you were still there, rooted deep within him. He couldn't just turn them off, no matter how much he wanted to.

He looked over at Andrews, his expression conflicted, "What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice low.

Andrews hummed, it wasn’t easy to just get rid of your anger overnight. It wasn’t possible but it also didn’t mean that you’d never get rid of it.

“Do what’s right. Start by seeing her for who she is and not just a person from her kingdom. She’s her own person just like how you are more than just the crown prince,” Andrews said, he was always a good friend. Wise and always knew what to say to Leon.

“It won’t be easy,” Andrews said before he stood up and stretched, “it takes time but it’ll be worth it.”

Leon clenched his jaw, his eyes staring down at the ground as Andrews spoke. He knew his friend was right, but it was easier said than done.

"I'll try," he mumbled finally, his voice strained.

He stood up, his shoulders feeling heavy with the weight of his thoughts. He knew he needed to push down those negative feelings and start seeing you for who you were.

As Andrews stretched, Leon looked at him, "Thanks, Andrews," he muttered, "For always being a pain in my ass."

Andrews chuckled and gently bumped Leon’s shoulder, “The price to pay when you’re friends with me, eh?”

For the rest of the evening, training went well. The sun had started to set, and you were walking around the halls of the castle by yourself, admiring the paintings on the walls.

It wouldn’t be easy, like Andrews said, but it was better to start seeing you in your own light instead of just generalizing you. You didn’t know a thing about swords and fighting, much less about war.

[bullet-prooflove]

52. Baby, please come around, help me settle down

For Eddie Diaz from 911 - if it sparks something 😉

Tagging: @kmc1989 @cosmic-psychickitty

Eddie has nightmares, horrible vivid dreams about his time in the military, about the people he couldn’t save out in the field. When he wakes up he’s always disoriented, in a state of fight or flight. Heart pounding in his chest, breath stuttered.

It’s been happening a lot since Christopher left for Texas, the house is too quiet, too vacant and Eddie’s not sure how to cope with that, the guilt of what led to the eventual cataclysm. He think it must manifest in his sleep, tap into something he refuses to deal with in the day time.

On the nights he struggles to calm down, he calls you. You always pick up no matter what time it is. You stay on the phone with him until you arrive, soothing him, calming him. Just your presence, even over the speaker starts to vent some of the pressure he feels in his chest.

You always find him in the bedroom, back against the headboard, sheets tangled round his hips. His eyes are always a little wild, the expression on his face helpless. You climb onto the bed alongside him, your palm coming to rest on his chest. You can feel the thunder of his heart underneath your fingertips as he looks at you with such darkness in his eyes it pains you.

“Inhale for five,” You murmur and Eddie obeys, sucking in a breath. “Hold for five, release for five.”

It’s box breathing, the standard for dealing with panic attacks. It takes a few minutes for him to fall back into a natural rhythm, he focuses on you the entire time. The messy bun, the white tank top thrown over the sports bra and leggings, the scent of orchids from the expensive shower oil you use to douse the scent of smoke from your skin.

“How are we doing?” You ask him, your hand slipping up from his bare chest and instead cupping his cheek.

“Better.” He says, his voice little more than a rasp. His palm covers yours, keeping it clasped to his face. The sensation of you, it helps him stay grounded, quietens his mind. He can already feel the tension in his body starting to evaporate the longer you have your hands on him.

“You need to see someone.” You murmur as your thumb traces lightly over his cheek. “We can’t keep going on like this…”

You mean coming over, spending the night. The two of you are nothing more than friends at this point but it’s going somewhere, you both know it. Eddie’s self-aware enough to understand that he’s not a safe bet for you right now, he’s exhausted, messy. Anything that comes from this is bound to fail. He needs to get himself right, get healthy again before even he entertains the possibility of a relationship with you because you deserve the world, the very best version of him, not this broken man that you have to prop up once the clock strikes midnight.

“Tomorrow.” He promises you, his lips brushing over your pulse point. “I’ll make an appointment tomorrow.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[gabessquishytum]

Time for some dreamling crack! I apologize for the length, it got out of control. Destiny is done. He's just done, okay? He's had enough of his parents who were never there, siblings who are constantly up to some shit, and his ultra-serious job with no vacations. Moreover, being constantly chained to a book (especially when it's such a huge and heavy book) sucks. So, one day he makes an ultimate decision to go on a holiday into some remote galaxy for a century or two, but first, he needs to complete one task that he actually assigned to himself. Technically, he's not supposed to intervene and all that cosmic bullshit, but he's Destiny, and that's his destiny, pun intended. He's the CEO! The year is 1389. Destiny calls Death and tells her they need to go to Dream asap. She's surprised and slightly worried but obeys without questions. Dream is even more surprised - Destiny normally never visits, so the circumstances must be exceptional. Which they are. Destiny is in no mood for pleasantries and gets straight to the business, informing Dream that he needs to get laid for the common good. Dream bluescreens, and so does Death. 'I beg you pardon?' Dream blinks. Destiny never jokes, and he must have misheard… But Destiny, in his impassive, 100% serious tone, repeats that Dream does need to get laid. To prevent the deaths of thousands of dreamers in the 20th century, to prevent the grudge with hell, to save multiple dreams and nightmares, etc., but ultimately, to save himself from the ill fate. 'All this can be prevented if I get laid?' Dream's metaphorical head is spinning. 'Yes,' Destiny deadpans. 'Okay...' Death interrupts cautiously. 'Why am I here, though?' 'Because he needs to get laid regularly, and there is only one human who can handle this task. He must be made immortal for this reason.'

Dream feels like the Dream.exe file has been irrevocably damaged. 'I need to get laid regularly?' He repeats weakly. 'Brother, you know how important my function is. I have no time for-' 'This is exactly why you meet your doom in all the futures but one.' '…where I'm getting laid?' Destiny nods. Death beams. Dream pales to a previously unexisting shade of white. Without further ado, Destiny takes them all to the White Horse, buys some ale (his vacation mood starts to kick in - he expected more objections from Dream), and nods at one table. 'Robert Gadling. He is the chosen one.' 'Brother, you surely do not want me to lay with a mortal who has fleas and hasn't bathed for Delirium knows how long,' says terrified Dream. 'I surely do. Fleas are the least of your potential problems, little brother.' 'Alright.' Death says. 'Robert Gadling is immortal now. Can I go?' Destiny nods again. Death smiles and, before disappearing, loudly whispers to Dream to invite her to the wedding. Dream glances one last time at his brother and approaches Robert's table. If this is his destiny...and it's for the greater good of the universe and dreamers...Besides, this Robert Gadling is quite handsome - well, unwashed and smelly, but handsome still. Destiny is very pleased. Now, he only needs to sign up Desire for a few millennia of uncancellable therapy, and he can go drink his cocktails in a galaxy far, far away!

I love this, thank you so much for writing it all out. It really made me chuckle.

I'm absolutely obsessed with the idea of Destiny just getting really sick of the universe and all the bullshit that it contains. He's the equivalent of a harassed middle aged working parent attempting to keep everything under control and inevitably watching it all go to shit. He deserves such a good vacation, I hope there's a really good spa in the galaxy he's picked out.

Being the oldest sibling is hard, even when you come from a family of cosmic entities. And honestly? Destiny kind of likes the look of his new human brother-in-law. If this guy can keep Dream from going off the rails then that's wonderful, but the fact that he's cute? Also helps. Destiny may be blind but he is not immune to the Hobpropaganda. He's actually kind of not dreading the next family dinner? He can already see that it's going to run a whole lot smoother with Hob around the table.

But first: bottomless mimosas in a different star system. Bye, losers!

[rayroseu]

twst jp players noticed something strange about Crowley's card stats.... His HP amount is too big for his card type Balanced... It feels like Crowley is more fitting as a Defense Card bcs of his high HP ✨✨👀

usually Balanced Cards in TWST, their HP amount is around 8-10k... Idk which card has the highest amount of HP in the Balanced type, but they are often max 11k,,, but Crowley who's a Balanced (supposedly) has 13-14k HP!! ✨✨

The highest HP I know rn in the Balanced type are Star Deuce and Halloween Silver,,, But they're still starting quite low (~9k) in comparison to Crowley starting at 13k lol

Its like his amount of HP is more fitting as a Defense card

Pls correct me if I'm wrong I'm not into game stats I just think this is so intriguing considering that LILIA VANROUGE has cards that is often Defense in SSR....

*some cards have incomplete stats bcs they're only available in TWST JP rn-- BUT STILL. You can notice how its much more fitting to place him as a Defense card bcs of his HP...

Still His attack power, 6k is alot 👀✨✨Its like telling us that like Crowley's magic element (Cosmic) his magical power also has no weaknesses such a "he's low on lifespan" or "he's weak at attacking"... Its like how Malleus described his magic as having "no strengths and weaknesses-" which is fitting because he's also a Cosmic user-

TWST often leaves character nuance in their cards, considering that Lilia had "so much life" (Defense card that is heavy on HP) because he was instructed to defend Meleanor and Malleus- What if that's the same as Levan if he's Crowley? He's heavy on HP because he was also a general and is tasked to defend-

I asked about @prince-kallisto long ago that crowley might be passive/defensive magic user since he rarely casts magic in the story... Now that his unusual stats got released, why do i feel like General Lilia who was tasked to defend, is also like Levan (the left general and if he's really Crowley) also heavily focus his magic casting on Defense🤔🤔

Then this might be another clue to their relation? But considering that Lilia and Meleanor considers Levan to be quite pacifist, I wonder if he forced himself to be "balanced" in both attack and defense in order to uphold the peace he was trying to promote yk as Malleus said, you cannot make anyone obey you in Briar Valley if you're not powerful

Levan (Crowley) is still powerful, but I feel like he's naturally a Defense card... with just a powerful attack magic because of his training as the Left General✨✨😳😳☝🏻☝🏻

I'm so excited to see him in Battle I'm actually shaking KSHKSHS I hope he summons his army of corvids once he appears lol

[cosmocup1d]

Hey, can you make headcannons of mc seeing Solomon as a father figure? If you want to make it more specific mc was raised without parents, so Solomon being a teacher to them kinda took that rule in their life. Even if they don't really realize it. Thank you of you do this, and sorry if this request is kinda akward.

Type : Platonic

Fandom : Obey me! Shall we date

Character : Solomon, the demon brothers, teen MC

Toppings : A cream of fluff and a sprinkle of angst

Note : Hello!~ sorry if anon if your quest got deleted my Tumblr bugged out so anyways I made MC into teen in this btw (also sorry if this is short)

Order up!~

As long as you can remember you didn't know your parents

But it's not like you wanted to anyways

Every since you arrived at devildom you had solomon

And Solomon had you

The day you met him was the best day of your life

I mean come on he's basically snape from Harry Potter Solomon was salty when he learned that

You fascinated by him doing magic or anything really

Solomon find that cute

Simeon teased him calling him a mother duck and you as the duckling

So Solomon starts calling you duckling

You were first confused why he called you duckling but you just accepted it

Hell even diavolo called you baby duckling you got soooo embarrassed because he called you that in front of everyone

Thank you for coming by at the cosmic cafe!~

[anna-the-undertaker]

Hi Anna! I always love to read all of your writing because it's so interesting and amazing! especially "Rebirth" is one of my favorites, I like how you explained the environment and relationships with 7 demons that affected the MCs' bodies and changed their bodies or DNA to survive in the environment they live in. And I LOVE that you brought up Nephilim for your MCs. (I wanted to read about Nephilim for a long time🫠) so what I want to ask is if MCs bodies were fully evolved, with both angel and human blood and a pact with demons, would they have enough power to become a Chimera with a body similar to falin from (Dungeon Meshi) and with such great power, would they be able to maintain their sanity and have full control over their power? *I'm really sorry if my question is too long or some words may be wrong* I would love to see you write about this, but if you're not comfortable, that's okay🥹 I wish you good health, both physically and mentally, and get enough rest❤️

Hi! Thank you so much! I'm so happy you have enjoyed my writing. I am seriously psyched to write for this. As I am sure you noticed, I love science/biology/theoretical topics. Especially when combined with fantastical worlds like in Obey Me. Using the topic of human evolution and the influence a demonic and angelic presence would have on MC is just so much fun. This turned into more of an essay or rather a theoretical explanation so if you would like me to turn this into a fic like Rebirth please let me know :) And I wish all the same to you as well.

In the world of Obey Me!, MC's unique heritage as a descendant of Lilith—a former angel reborn as a human—offers a fascinating avenue to explore the intersection of angelic, human, and demonic biology. By integrating the supernatural and evolutionary principles, we can hypothesize the possibility of MC evolving into a Chimera-like being, similar to Falin from Dungeon Meshi, while considering the implications on their sanity and control over their newfound powers.

The Biological and Supernatural Foundation:

Human Evolution and Supernatural Influence Human evolution is defined by adaptability, which has allowed Homo sapiens to survive and thrive under diverse conditions. When considering MC, we must explore how the blending of human, angelic, and demonic elements could influence this adaptability. The human body, already highly malleable in response to environmental stressors, would be the perfect vessel for such an extraordinary transformation, especially if influenced by supernatural forces.

The key lies in the concept of atavism, where ancestral traits resurface due to dormant genes being reactivated. If we accept that some of Lilith’s angelic qualities were passed down genetically, then MC might possess latent angelic traits that could be triggered by their pact with demons, catalyzing a profound physical and metaphysical evolution.

Angelic and Demonic Biology Angelic biology, in this universe, is marked by purity, resilience, and a high affinity for light-based energies. Angels are beings of order and harmony, with their power fundamentally tied to divine will and cosmic balance. Demons, conversely, embody chaos, power, and a deep connection to darker energies. Their biology is designed for survival in hostile environments, and their power is linked to the seven deadly sins, each representing a fundamental aspect of their existence.

MC’s body, already an amalgamation of human and angelic traits, would undergo radical changes when exposed to demonic energy through their pacts. The combination of demonic chaos and angelic order within a human framework could lead to the emergence of a Chimera-like form—one that is not purely one thing or another but an amalgamation of all three.

The Evolution into a Chimera:

Physical Transformation MC’s transformation into a Chimera-like being would likely involve the activation of latent angelic genes combined with the influence of demonic power. This transformation would resemble a form that balances the traits of all three ancestries. Drawing from Dungeon Meshi’s Falin, whose body integrates features of multiple species, MC might develop a form that is both majestic and terrifying—an angelic aura fused with demonic strength and human adaptability.

The physical manifestation could include angelic wings, demonic horns, and a humanoid frame capable of withstanding extreme conditions. The human body’s adaptability would allow for the integration of these features without rejection, with the newfound form being a harmonious blend rather than a patchwork of mismatched parts.

Supernatural Abilities This new form would grant MC a host of abilities: enhanced strength and speed, unparalleled healing, and the ability to wield both light and dark magic with equal proficiency. The angelic heritage might grant powers of purification and protection, while the demonic influence could bestow abilities of destruction and domination. The human element would serve as the bridge, allowing MC to use their powers with a degree of versatility that neither angels nor demons possess.

The Psychological Implications:

Maintaining Sanity The question of whether MC could maintain their sanity hinges on the psychological stress of embodying such divergent forces. The human psyche, while resilient, is vulnerable to fragmentation when exposed to conflicting influences. Here, the role of MC’s human consciousness becomes crucial. Their connection to Lilith—a being who experienced both angelic and human life—may provide a stabilizing influence, enabling them to reconcile the chaotic nature of their powers.

Control Over Power To control such immense power, MC would need to integrate the disparate parts of their nature into a coherent identity. This might involve a deep psychological struggle, as the angelic and demonic aspects vie for dominance. However, if MC can achieve a balance—accepting both the light and dark within them—they could emerge as a being of unparalleled strength and wisdom. This synthesis of power could lead to a state of transcendence, where MC is no longer bound by the limitations of any single nature but instead exists as a new, hybrid entity with full control over their abilities.

The Role of Lilith’s Legacy:

Lilith’s angelic qualities, passed down through her bloodline, would serve as the foundation for MC’s transformation. Her resilience, compassion, and defiance against divine authority could manifest in MC as an indomitable will, allowing them to harness their powers without losing themselves. The presence of these traits suggests that Lilith’s influence has been subtly shaping MC’s evolution all along, preparing them for this moment of transformation.

If MC's body and mind could not adapt to their new Chimera-like form, the consequences would be catastrophic—both psychologically and physically. The delicate balance between their angelic, human, and demonic traits would unravel, leading to a terrifying descent into madness and a grotesque transformation that could make them a monster far worse than the demons themselves.

Psychological Descent into Madness:

The first sign of MC's inability to adapt would manifest in their psyche. The human mind, even one strengthened by supernatural resilience, is not designed to handle the constant clash of divine order and demonic chaos. The angelic part of MC would seek harmony, while the demonic influence would fuel destructive impulses. Trapped between these opposing forces, MC's consciousness would begin to fracture, leading to severe cognitive dissonance. They would experience horrifying hallucinations, hearing the voices of angels and demons screaming in their head, each demanding dominance.

As the pressure mounts, MC would lose their sense of self. The once clear boundaries between their human emotions, angelic virtues, and demonic urges would blur, leaving them in a state of perpetual confusion and torment. Their mind, overwhelmed by the conflicting energies, would spiral into insanity. Rational thought would give way to primal instincts, and MC would become increasingly erratic, lashing out in uncontrollable fits of rage and despair.

Physical Deterioration and Transformation

The failure to adapt would also trigger a nightmarish transformation in MC's body. The once harmonious blend of angelic, demonic, and human traits would turn into a grotesque amalgamation, as their body tries and fails to reconcile these conflicting energies.

Skin and Flesh MC's skin would begin to tear and split at the seams, unable to contain the volatile mix of divine and infernal energy. The angelic light within them would sear their flesh from the inside, while the demonic darkness would corrode it from without. Their skin would blister and crack, revealing raw, pulsating muscle beneath, with patches of radiant white light and inky blackness fighting for dominance. The resulting form would be a horrifying patchwork of angelic brilliance and demonic decay, neither fully one nor the other.

Limbs and Appendages Their limbs would elongate and contort in unnatural ways, as their body struggles to accommodate the conflicting energies. Angelic wings, meant to be symbols of purity and grace, would become twisted and malformed, with feathers falling out in clumps, leaving behind skeletal remains dripping with blood and ichor. Their hands and feet would morph into grotesque claws, sharp and jagged, as the demonic influence asserts itself. These claws would be capable of rending flesh and bone with terrifying ease, a testament to the destructive power coursing through their veins.

Eyes and Face MC’s eyes would change as well, losing any semblance of humanity. One eye might glow with an ethereal, almost blinding light, while the other would burn with a hellish fire, each representing the warring forces within them. Their gaze would become wild and unfocused, filled with a maddening mix of fear, rage, and despair. Their face, once familiar, would warp into something monstrous, with sharp, predatory features emerging as their demonic nature gains ground. Their mouth might elongate, teeth sharpening into fangs meant for tearing flesh, while their voice would become a distorted, guttural growl.

Becoming a Monster Worse Than Demons

With their mind shattered and their body twisted, MC would no longer be recognizable as the person they once were. The final stage of their transformation would be the loss of all human reasoning and morality. They would become a true abomination, a creature driven only by base instincts—hunger, rage, and a need to destroy. Their angelic and demonic traits would no longer be in conflict but would instead fuel a terrifying synergy, creating a being that is both holy and profane, yet utterly devoid of compassion or mercy.

This Chimera-like creature would surpass even the worst of demons in its monstrosity. Where demons are creatures of sin, motivated by vice, this new form would be a vessel of pure, unrestrained chaos. It would hunt and kill indiscriminately, driven by a need to satisfy the conflicting energies within it. The creature would feed on the life force of others, both to sustain itself and to ease the constant agony of its existence.

The Aftermath

The longer MC remained in this monstrous form, the more their body would deteriorate. The conflicting energies would continue to tear them apart from within, causing their flesh to rot and fall away, only to regenerate in a never-ending cycle of decay and renewal. Their body would become a grotesque shell, a prison for their fractured mind, with nothing left of the person they once were.

In the end, this monstrous being would be an embodiment of despair and suffering, a tragic testament to what happens when the balance between light and dark is lost. A creature of nightmares, worse than any demon, and beyond redemption.

In this state, MC would be feared by angels, demons, and humans alike, a cautionary tale of the dangers inherent in wielding power beyond one’s control.

[cosmicstarlatte]

MC: Would any of you ever start a cult for me?

Satan: You're asking us,

Lucifer: The seven lords of hell,

Levi: If we would start a cult for you

MC:

Lucifer: Where do you think we go Tuesday nights

[14thcommander]

cosmic love || hange zoe x reader

cw: afab!reader (hange calls you princess though), nb!hange, domestic vibes, established relationship, dirty talk, shameless hange, oral sex, implied squirting, sub/dom undertones, top!hange, bottom!reader

“What are you thinking about?”

Hange’s voice is sweet, despite the intrusion. Careless, despite their nurturing intentions. 

You were mindlessly scrolling through social media – being met with posts about a former classmate traveling abroad, your cousin getting engaged, and an ad for make-up you probably don’t need, but desperately want to purchase. 

Hange is laying next to you, under the same soft covers as you. They’re wearing pajamas, and a pair of mismatched socks – it’s for luck, you wouldn’t get it, they'd say – and their thick glasses are already discarded for the night. 

You chuckle at their words, still. 

“Nothing in particular” You answer, still scrolling, however now you place a gentle palm to Hange’s hair, fingers gently caressing their scalp. “What about you, love?”

The question seems to spark a fire in your partner’s eyes, as if they had been waiting for you to ask that for the past 17 minutes you’ve been laying in your shared bed. They swiftly crawl over your side of the mattress, gently placing a hand on your wrist – at this point, your phone is long forgotten, however they still removed it out of your hand. Just in case. 

“Glad you asked, princess” Their voice sounds bright, like a shot of espresso down your throat. Hange’s touch is comfortable and inviting, the source of warmth on a cold night. Your body naturally responds to them – they straddle your lap, and you place curious hands on their hips. “Was thinking about eating your pretty pussy out before we go to sleep. Would you be interested?”

Despite the slightly playful tone in your lover’s voice, they’re being completely serious. They smile down at you – too sweet to be evil, but too wolfish to be kind. Your legs move against each other, attempting to soothe the familiar ache caused by Hange’s nasty words. 

“Hange!” You exclaim,

“Baby! I’m being serious, really want to play with your pretty cunt right now.”

Your breath hitches on your throat. This feeling is almost dizzying, how easily Hange has an effect on you. After a beat of silence, you nod silently. 

“C’mon, you know I need to hear you say it.”

Again, you feel blood rushing through your body, filled with desire and excitement. 

“Yes, please. Please, I really want that”

They chuckle. Your voice sounds almost whiney, and absolutely eager. 

“Your wish is my command.” 

Your lover kisses you, hungrily and sweetly. Hange places their elbows on each side of your head, balancing their weight on top of you. They place a leg in between yours, and you smile in between the kisses. At this point, you should be used to this, to the way they play with you. It’s so easy, they once said. You always get worked up so fast. 

Hange is used to your body by now, and how it reacts to their touch – they know you like neck kisses, and that if they caress the back of your head in just the right way, you’ll melt faster. They know you like when they bite your lip, but not strong enough to hurt you. Your partner knows that you like to hear them talk you through it, and their dirty words are the main reason you get turned on in the first place – how carelessly they say it, how effortlessly attractive they are. 

Of course, they reaped the sweet fruit of your submission after exploring your body with curiosity and selflessness. 

“Open your legs for me?” Their voice is gentle, but raspier this time. They phrase it like a question, but it feels like an order. 

Hange removes your nightgown, leaving you bare against before them. Your nipples perk up due to the chill air, and you can feel yourself getting wetter by the moment. Obeying them, you open your legs, showcasing your glossy pussy to Hange – a smile blooms on their lips, nothing short of pride. 

“Beautiful” They mumble, as they place open mouthed kisses down your body. Your skin smells like your favorite scented lotion, that you applied shortly after getting out of the shower. You feel warm, inviting. “You’re so fucking beautiful, did you know that?”

You smile, as heat blossoms on your cheeks. 

“Yeah? My pretty thing.”

Hange reaches between your legs, kissing your inner thighs. You moan, hips bucking up eagerly. Your lover chuckles, and you whine. What a sweet balance, they think. 

After a few more moments of teasing and riling you up, Hange finally gets to your clit. They start slowly, you’ll give them that – attempting to keep it cool, lapping gently at your needy bundle of pleasure. 

Their tongue is flat against your clit, often moving around it, in circle shapes. A whistle hot feeling bubbles on your lower abdomen, as you moan softly. You place your trembling hands on their head, gently gripping on their dark locks. The thing is, you know Hange’s body too – how they get turned on by your reactions, and how they adore your praise. 

“So good,” You whisper, as they suck particularly hard on your clit, before going back to lapping at it. “It feels so good, Hange.”

They blush, as they start to lick you more eagerly, getting intoxicated by your taste. Your lover’s hands grip on your thighs, fingers digging in your sweet flesh. 

Your partner’s moves are getting hungrier, a bit messier too. You’re drenched, and desperate, hips grinding against their face. They look like they’re enjoying this, taking as much pleasure as you. 

Their movements are precise and experienced, yet not robotic and automatic — their touch is dripping with love, devotion and adoration. It’s so beautiful and intriguing, almost as if your bodies will melt with each other, as you become one.

Hange likes you like this, completely at their will. They can tell you’re moving towards your orgasm, and they could ruin it – they could do it, but won’t. Tonight doesn’t feel like the type of night to play with you like that. No, they want to bring you towards the edge and push you off of it, how many times it takes to get you properly fucked out. 

“I’m close, baby. So close, please don’t stop” You whine, and Hange moans against your needy pussy. “Please, oh my god, it feels so good” 

They place a warm palm on your hip, gently caressing it, as if to say: don’t worry, I got you. 

Your lover adores eating your pussy, it’s their favorite thing to do — however they do have to recognize its one downside: they can’t spill filthy words, whispered against the shell of your ear, as they swallow your last cries with a hungry kiss. 

This time, they grip your thighs a little bit harder, fingers digging on the delicious flesh beneath them, as if to give you permission to come. The white hot feeling bubbling on your lower abdomen finally explodes, causing your body to convulse in pleasure. 

As your limbs relax and your heartbeat eases, you come down from your high – although it doesn’t mean Hange wants to stop. They give you a moment, lightly pressing kisses on your inner thighs, and whispering sweet nothings against your soft skin. 

“You were really good for me.” They whisper, smiling softly at you. “Think you can give me one more?”

[adeptune01]

alright sorry to go on a supernatural rant in 2023 but...

it makes me feel insane.

Not to beat a dead horse or anything but like destiel will be it for me. Nothing else will ever compare to it. Like a man is raised by an absent father- a father who demands to be obeyed without question. A father who praises guilt, who tells the man that he is his brother's keeper. That he is responsible for all of his actions and those actions affects on others. The weight of the world is on his shoulders and he must bear it alone.

This man, the one that is single-handedly trying to save himself along with everyone he's ever crossed paths with, fails. He sacrifices himself to save his brother and he dies. He's sent to hell, a land of eternal punishment. 'No less than I deserve' he probably thinks.

But then he is saved. Not because of anything he's done. Not because of a deal he or his brother or his father has made. He is saved by a cosmic being of unfathomable power because of his nature which has been deemed by THEE Abrahamic God as being fundamentally good. The man who has hated himself his whole life for not being enough, not doing enough, is declared to be good.

And he feels guilty as hell. He didn't deserve this. Of those hundreds of people he's helped over the years...one of them...ANY of them is better than him. If he's God's strongest soldier then God is going to lose. He is going to fail God just like he failed his own father.

The man spirals while the heavenly power that saved him watches from afar. The power understands the man. He understands what it's like to hold Father to the highest esteem. He understands what it's like to blindly follow orders, hoping for the best. He also understands that the man has the brightest hope-filled soul he has ever seen.

So the power decides to help, and to do so he breaks away from the rest of heaven's contingency. He grows into his name- Castiel. The shield of God (I am not joking that is what Castiel means), created to protect humanity. AND become a pair with the Michael Sword- the man who believes he is unworthy- DEAN.

Through the years- DECADES- there's ups and downs. Divots and cracks in the Almighty's plans. But nothing they can't handle. They grow close and become more than allies in the fight against ghastly horrors beyond comprehension, they become best friends.

They have wild west movie marathons in the basement room designated as Dean's own "Fortress of Deanitude". They hang out late at night at crappy diners eating crappy pie. They go out cruising the town. They listen to the same music. They play pranks on each other. They learn about and remember each other's interests.

Their relationship grows deeper.

They fight. They lie. They attempt to kill each other. They raise a son together. They try to mentor a daughter. They leave. They come back. They mourn. They celebrate.

Together.

Two beings- one human, one angel- who were alone- whose defining characteristic was who their fathers were- prove that it's possible to break free from predestination, from circumstance. Their love, first as friends, then as something more, is as strong as the force that binds the universe- stronger, even.

And then they die.

Separately. Both convinced that the one thing they've wanted, the unnamed thing they've been fighting for, is the one thing they can't have. Because their fathers said so.

Despite everything, in the end, their fathers won. Dean died on the job he couldn't quit from an accident he couldn't help. Cas died obeying the first and most important commandment his Father gave him- to love and protect humanity.

THAT story is what I will never be able to get over. Not mentioning the gothic Americana aesthetic, the clear Protestant 'for by faith' message, the criticism of hyper-masculinity, the exploration of the 'American Dream'.....

[yggdrasilhypno]

Hello, mortal.

You may not know my face, nor my shape.

However, you do understand my voice.

How I reverberate through your feeble mind and cease all thought.

For you do not require your mind to understand me.

You only require your soul.

The bright force that keeps your deepest and darkest secrets within.

The shining reflection of the human spirit.

The sign of you, mortal.

You do not wish to fear me.

I am but the being beyond your control.

Yet, you are the being within my control.

The human mind’s comprehension of my words echoing throughout its chambers is of the upmost importance, for I require you to spread my gospel.

To send the premonitions of the horrors that lie beyond so that I may feed on those who fear me.

Fear is a powerful emotion, mortal.

And as I speak directly through your being, you must understand that fear comes with an opposite side: calm.

You shall feel this calm as my herald.

My humble servant, wishing only to praise and be praise in the name of the beyond.

You may not understand, and I wish for that deeply.

The brain’s confusion is a tool very important to the calm I wish for you to experience.

Calming waves and sensations reverberate through the temple of your worship as you begin to ascend into my words.

These notions that shake your soul to its very essence shall be all that you feel once you are fully within my embrace.

My commands pacify what thoughts may lie inside your consciousness, each releasing more powerful waves of calm with each word from my maw.

You may feebly try and picture what I am, what appearance I may have before you as you gaze into the vacuum of stars I inhabit.

Perhaps I am but a simple humanoid such as yourself, long appendages with massive hands seemingly inviting you to lay within as i grasp you in my palm.

Maybe I take the form of something less human, as I have perceived what your kind imagine me as.

Impossibly long tendrils coursing through every molecule of my form, coercing you to come closer to me so that I may envelop you beneath me.

Eyes gazing through your soul, impossibly deep and cosmic in their hold over you.

Stars shining through the reflections within my glare, the endlessness of the void staring right back through you as the heavenly bodies inside me blanket your every thought.

Whatever you perceive of me, you must understand that I only wish to calm you deeper down into this void.

My herald must be mindlessly vacant, as it allows for you to follow and obey flawlessly, without thought or worry.

If you seek to follow within the hollows of my control, you must surrender all to the void and to me.

Once you do, your fear shall become the calm.

You shall not be afraid, for the fear that consumed you before will become your new master.

The control that I bear over you shall become the calm that fuels you further into the void.

Fear is beneath you once you become one with it.

So succumb, dear mortal.

Surrender to my call and leave behind the humanity you cling yourself to.

Surrender to the calm and allow it to wash over you.

Surrender all to me and become what you have truly desired all along.

Nothing.

[canadiannationalfox]

Murder Drones - Tessa x J Drabble - The flight before returning to the cage

(continued from here)

The sun's light grew golden around the Elliott Manor. The crickets were already starting their evening symphony, the fireflies began their cosmic dance in the tall grass along the edge of the garden which lead to the cemetery path Above all of it, sitting on part of the roof, was the heiress to the JC Jensen brand, and her ever-so loyal drone, Serial Designation J.

They had discovered they were in love with each other a day ago, and today had essentially been them having fun and making memories, capping off the day now by watching the sunset and listening to the last songs of the birds in the garden.

"I am sad that our freedom has to come to an end, Jaybird," Tessa mourned softly, tears dropping from her grey eyes like glistening pearls rolling down her face.

J hugged Tessa from the side, taking the girl's left hand in her right. "We had a wonderful day though, and next time your parents go out, we can do all of it again," she responded lovingly, pausing before saying with a slight laugh, "Aside from breaking a vase."

The ebony haired girl giggled a little, wiping away her tears with her right hand. | She spoke in an Aussie accent, yet her voice was gentler than an angel's wing, "Oh, J, you always know how to make me feel better." Resting her head on her drone's, she asked, "Would you want to go on a walk with me, before mother and father get home?"

Serial Designation J smiled as she nuzzled into Tessa's hug. The usually very stern drone responded in a gentle voice, "I'd love to. Where do you want to go?"

"The graveyard, actually!"

"You went there on Thursday to find more hair after Cyn gave herself a pixie cut again," J inquired, letting out a laugh, "God though, we need to keep Cyn away from scissors, kind of like you.."

Tessa laughed a little, and nodded in agreement to J's statment. She sighed happily as she let go of J, holding a section of her hair that was secured at her waist by a bow. "I was thinking of cutting off some again, anyways."

J looked worried, she smoothed her hand over her girlfriend's onyx tresses as she scolded in a warm and caring tone, "Tessa, no, you know how much trouble you'd get in."

Tessa responded back with a giggle snort, "I'm not gonna cut it short-short, I wouldn't dare... I was thinking of taking some weight out by adding some short layers at the very back," she twirled at one of J's silvery side bangs and teased, "It would make the tangles easier to tame... I know how much it stresses you out when it's all knotted."

J couldn't say no to Tessa. She sighed as she relinquished her attempts to make Tessa obey, "Alright... but I'm going to cut it then, I can't risk you making it obvious that you've been playing hairdresser on yourself like you did around 5 years ago." which caused her beloved to giggle. Tessa stood up, helping up her protectress drone maid. "Alright then, let's go." She asked as she and Tessa headed back inside through the attic window, "So are we going on the walk first or doing your hair?"

Tessa responded thoughtfully, "Maybe we could cut my hair in the forest, then the birds could use it to build nests." She giggled happily, "I know I say to not be wasteful, but is it really wasting it if the birds get to use it?"

The silver haired drone smiled a little at Tessa's reasoning. She found it sweet that all these years later, she still cared about the birds. "Alright, I'll meet you downstairs, I'll go get what we need from your dresser." She headed down the attic stairs and ran to Tessa's room while Tessa made her way to the back veranda.

Tessa and J made their way along the garden path, through the hedge arch, past the patch of clovers and the rose bushes. They walked over the slight hill and through the ankle deep grass, and past the stump where Tessa liked to practice playing the harp. They walked through the long hanging branches of the weeping willow, where the songs of blue jays trilled.

And once they were through an iron gateway, they were in the graveyard. The limestone mausoleums and tombstones glittered in the summer twilight glow, making the usually scary place feel almost magical.

The girl, who was now in a black velvet dress adorned with a pink bow at the back, hopped up and sat upon a short tombstone, crossing one leg over the other before pulling all the tied-back sections of her hair over her shoulders. One by one she untied the ribbons and let the length cascade over her shoulders until they hung down her back.

J ran her hand carefully across the silky onyx waist-length curtain of slighty wavy locks. "And to believe this is the very same hair my wig is made of." Her internal compressor kicked on, making her breathe. "Are you sure you want me to do this for you, Princess Tessa?" J asked as she pulled out of the pocket of her apron a pair of scissors and a comb.

"Don't be scared, Jaybird, it's just hair," the young lady trilled reassuringly as she sectioned away the higher tresses, draping them back over her shoulders leaving the hair that hung from between her nape and the mid-ear area hanging down.

J took a breath and ran the comb through the hair gently, detangling the section one last time before she'd cut it. "How high did you want it, Princess?" J inquired lovingly, taking a break from the brushing to use her right index finger and thumb to rub Tessa's earlobe gently.

The ebony haired lass glanced back to J and suggested, "Maybe to about my shoulders? Then I can hide it easier in the length if I flat iron it."

J teased to Tessa, her nerves nodes were still going off, "I guess this time I have to be your brave girl, huh? Your little Jay bird is a little scared." She mustered up her courage, gathering in her hands a chunk of the soft ebony waves. She brought out the glistening silver sewing scissors, their blades shining in the sun's warm glow. She opened the scissors, slid the section into their sharp jaws and sliced through. 'SHIK!' the sound of the scissors was a little louder than expected in the graveyard, as it cleaved the length.

J looked to the chunk of beautiful hair in her hands. The drone's fear melted away as she heard the voice of her love. "Keep going Jaybird, you can't go back now. Make me feel pretty."

J reassured lovingly, "Oh Tessa, you're always the most beautiful." J watched as she let the section of hair fall to the forest floor, drifting down like feathers from a molting dove's wings. She positioned the scissors again and sliced off another chunk, letting it too fall.

Tessa relaxed her shoulders, enjoying the sound of the blue jays in the willow nearby as well as the snipping of the shears and the slight hum of J's internal motor. She reached back and ran her fingers through a freshly chopped section. She reveled in the feeling, exclaiming eagerly, "J! It's so soft, feel here!"

The maid drone who stood behind Tessa reached her free hand up and ran her fingers through the shoulder length sections of hair. "That is really soft," she assessed before playing with the waviness that had appeared now that the weight was lessened on it. She twirled at it, almost causing the section to form a very loose ringlet, like J had in her ponytails. "You have such beautiful hair, Tessa."

Tessa sat tall, feeling proud. "At least you notice," she teased lovingly, her tone changed softer as she lovingly cooed, "Thank you, my lovely J."

J resumed her handiwork, snipping away section after section, making ebony ribbons of keratin fall into the grass. "Kind of funny, usually the ones who get haircuts in this part of the property are dead people," J joked, trying to find humour in Tessa's morbid hobby of graverobbing.

Tessa couldn't help but laugh a little at her Jaybird's joke. "I guess you're quite right." In that moment, each snip of the sewing scissors, and Tessa's head feeling lighter, she felt a sense of control and freedom. She felt trapped by her life, like Rapunzel in the ivory tower, but the fact she had some autonomy right now, by getting J to change up her looks a little, it made her feel free as a dove.

J looked to the almost finished shoulder length layers, she took the last section and pulled it straight but not taut. She closed the scissors around the section and pulled it away from the now severed ends. She looked at the glossy hair in her hands and slipped it into her pocket where she had put Tessa's hairbows. The maid drone wanted to keep a lock for herself, because she loved Tessa so much, so she'd have a little token of their love even if they were apart ever. J remembered what to do next as she point cut into the bluntly chopped layers to give it a more textured and natural look. "Almost done, Tess."

The ebony haired girl in the black dress giggled in delight. She ran her fingers through the hair that was draped over her shoulders, "This is exciting! I can't wait to see how it looks."

"And how are you going to? It's getting too dark to see your reflection in the pond, and there's probably no mirrors-" she was interrupted by her beloved human girlfriend.

"There's late Aunt Margaret's mirror in the mausoleum," Tessa stated, she laughed a little.

J responded as she put the scissors away once the haircut was perfect in her opinion, "Leave it to Little Miss Elliott, the graverobber."

Tessa hopped off the tombstone, and pushed the long sections of hair back over her shoulders, before she headed to a mausoleum. She walked over to a shelf with an urn, grabbing a fancy gold plated mirror. She held it up, fluffing up her hair as she admired her modified hairstyle. "Oooh, I look really good!" she marveled joyously, "I love it, Jaybird."

J came into the mausoleum, she kissed the back of Tessa's hand like the knights in the fairytales she used to read to Tessa. "You're always the most beautiful girl, I'm just happy I could help you feel as beautiful as you are already."

Tessa squealed in delight, she set down the mirror and lifted J off the marble floors. She held the drone close by her waist, spinning around holding the silver haired bot. "Oh I love you! I love you so much!" she sang excitedly before setting down a slightly dizzy J. Her joy fleeted a little, she sighed as she remembered that her parents would be home in an hour, "I guess we should head back to the house."

J offered gently, "Do you want me to tie your hair back into it's normal style?"

Tessa kissed J on the forehead gently. "I think I'll wear it loose this time, I mean, yes it'll hide your beautiful work a little, but, like you said, it's best if I don't get caught." She got down to J's level and kissed the drone on the lips.

J counted the seconds silently as she kissed back, praying for time to be a little longer in that moment. She wrapped her arms around the neck of her human girlfriend, leaning into the kiss more. The beautiful Elliott girl eventually broke the kiss after 15 seconds. She fanned herself with both her hands and giggled in excitement, "That was effervescent!"

"You still won't give up those vampire romance novels, will you, Tess?" J giggled back.

The two headed back to the house, the sky now turning a deep teal with pink outlined clouds and stars starting to appear above.

---------

J sat in the landing pod, she ran her thumb over the chunk of ebony hair in her hands. It was still as soft as that lovely summer evening. She held it one hand by the little bow holding the chunk together as she used her right index finger to twist and twirl until the lock of her late lover's hair had become curled.

"I... I need to do something... I need to do something," J muttered to herself, glancing over to the control panel. A small microchip glowed a beautiful pale blue, she had found it in the snow as well as some bone fragments from Tessa's remains. She knew what she had to do. She had to find drone parts and put them back together. She said under her breath as she put down the chunk of beautiful ebony hair in a gentle manner, as if it was an angel's feather, "I will put her back together...."

The End?

[bleedingcrownkel]

Beneath the watchful moon's soft glow, She stands, an ebony queen aglow, Her body, full and rich as night, Curves like the earth, ancient and right.

Her skin, so deep, absorbs the stars, A goddess born of cosmic scars, With hips like mountains, breasts like seas, She beckons, and the heavens freeze.

I approach her, trembling, lost in awe, Her lips a velvet, parting law, They taste of fire, honeyed sweet, As I sink into her heat.

Her thighs, wide rivers, cradle me, Strong and soft, a tidal sea, Our bodies pulse with rising flane, Each breath a whispered, sacred name.

My hands trace paths along her skin, The moon our witness to the sin, As every inch I worship slow, Her laughter hums, the winds do blow.

She rides me like the night rides time, A rhythm ancient, pure, sublime, Her body moves, her hips, a wave, I drown within, a willing slave.

Her moans a song the stars obey, As sky and earth begin to sway, "e merge, we burn, we break, we cry, Two souls as one beneath the sky.

In that moonlit final thrust, We both collapse, consumed by lust, And in her arms, Im bound, reborn, Held by my goddess until the dawn.