#Ah to be a fly on the wall at the red carpet…

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 17: The One About All the Hot Air

Oh, hey, hey, hey – what is that over there?

No, not that –

That!

Ah, fuck.

Is that what I think it is?

Yeah, yeah, it looks like some sort of hot air balloon.

Ugh, it’s that fucking wannabe Wizard! Get that manipulative shit-fuck outta here!

Seriously, don’t let it set foot on land. It’s not welcome on this side of Oz.

Someone release the flying monkeys! Like, now. Knock it out of the sky.

Wait, I thought the Wizard liked green. This weirdo has a red balloon.

Bitch, I didn’t say it was the Wizard; I said it was a wannabe Wizard.

Oh, no wonder it’s steering that balloon like a fucking clown.

Hell, I don’t even think we need the monkeys. That idiot is going to crash and burn itself straight into the glass walls of the Emerald Palace.

Well, you know what they say when you start throwing stones in a glass house…

It is slightly amusing (and a tad concerning) to me that children are always led to believe that the villain of “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” is that bitch of a Witch of the West when the worst character traits are actually portrayed by the Wizard himself. And, by “worst character traits,” I mean that he was a master manipulator who conned an entire city into believing he held some form of great power.

Did you know that in the original story the Emerald City wasn’t really that green? Sure, it was made from green glass and emeralds, but the Wizard required everyone to wear green-colored glasses so that everything appeared greener than it actually was. Weird, that. And, even more weird, people bought it! “Here, put these glasses on and you’ll see everything exactly the way I want you to see it.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m fully aware “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” is a work of fiction, but the idea that people can be easily manipulated – especially by someone with “power” – is not fiction.

That’s what today’s piece of “hot air” is about – fandom manipulation and the power of suggestion. And who better to manipulate an entire fandom than the media? It’s unfortunate that I have to give the media power in this story – and even more unfortunate that I have to give it to rag-mags and social media – but the reality is information is power, regardless of whether it’s misinformation. In fact, MIT Sloan did a study in 2018 demonstrating how false information spreads through social media, namely, Twitter, six times faster than true information. Disturbing, right? I don’t even want to know what the going rate for misinformation is in 2025.

And, of course, since I opened today’s story with a visit to the Land of Oz, we may as well take a day trip over to Australia. Remember how I told you Australia deserved an entry of its own? Well, this is it. No, not really. I did say this was a day trip, not a sleep-over, so it’s not going to be chucked full of shiny bracelets or ways to “keep a good girl down.” It’s just our starting point today.

In my first entry, I briefly described what brought me into this fandom. It was something Luke said – and not really what he said, but how he said it – that left me intrigued. He was being interviewed on the Bowral red carpet by “Gretchen from the Philippines.” Yes, that’s literally how she introduced herself! Could I instead refer to the nice lady by her real name (Gretchen Fullido)? Sure, but “Gretchen from the Philippines” is far more fun. Plus, it sounds kind of whimsical. Any ways, Gretchen (from the Philippines) asked Luke if, “in real life,” he’d support friends-to-lovers. Luke’s response was, well, a bit jumbled, which was what sparked my curiosity because his previous answers that day were, for the most part, articulate: “I would – I would support friends – I feel like it’s not something that – that I have in my li – that I resonate with – that I’ve experienced. But, you know, if my – if my friends wanted to explore a relationship with one their friends, go for it. I’ll support it.”

Something in the way Luke answered that question was like suddenly being able to see the forest for the trees. At that moment, I was convinced Luke had always been in love with Nicola, and everything else that went on during that particular red-carpet event (and thereafter) simply christened the USS Lukola. However, that comment by Luke – and a subsequent one he made in New York – would result in the addition of a lot of trees to our enchanted forest.

Now – I apologize – we need to borrow a hot air balloon, preferably one that can travel through time, and jump forward to November 5, London-time. I promise, we will return to Oz momentarily.

Oh, fuck.

What now?

That ridiculous faux Wizard is right behind us. I thought I told you to send in the monkeys!

Dammit, you said we didn’t need them! I left those fuckers back in Oz.

Well, umm, I think we might need them now.

Why??

Uhh, do you see those four-legged beasts on the ground chasing our balloon?

Oh, you mean those coyote-like creatures?

Yeah, but we’re not in the Americas – and those ain’t coyotes…

Ah, here we are: November 5, Claridge’s, London. This was the evening Nicola attended the Harper’s Bazaar Women of the Year awards. We’re only stopping in real quick to steal a piece of the speech Nicola gave that evening. Okay, got it! Let’s get the fuck out of here!

The part of the speech I wanted to share was this: “I did a six-month press tour for Bridgerton, the show which I love, and I’m so proud of. The amount of inappropriate questions I got asked about my appearance, about my relationship…”

Hold up. Relationship? What relationship?

Did she say “relationship” or “relationships?”

Does it fucking matter?

Well, I guess not. But what does it mean?

I could tell you what I think it means… Wait a hot-air-balloon-minute – where the fuck have you taken us? I told you we needed to go back to April 21, Aussie-time. This looks like Soho in January.

Shit, sorry. Let me fix that. Here we go…

>>> 

Umm, hey, where’s that weird little red Wizard? I swear it was just behind us…

Eh, probably got stuck in Soho, hahaha. Guess it missed its exit.

Do you think that’s a good idea?

Yeah, sure. It’ll be fine…

We’ve returned to April 21, Bowral, Australia. Now, at this point in the timeline, World Tour interviews were already well underway. In fact, the first two parts of EmEdits on YouTube are entirely pre-Australia interviews, making up roughly 6 ½ hours of screen time. I’m not the least bit surprised that “Gretchen from the Philippines” asked Luke what his thoughts were on “real life” friends-to-lovers. The chemistry between Luke and Nicola was hard to ignore.

The Australian red carpet also introduced the hand holding, which – if we took another magical mystery tour over to May 9, Italy – Nicola and Luke agreed was a sign of “love.” I suppose I could buy the excuse that one or both had so much anxiety they needed the other’s hand to remain calm on the red carpet. But, nah, I wouldn’t buy that at all – for one very specific reason. When Luke and Nicola were seen leaving (I believe) the Milton Park Country House on April 23, Luke instinctively reached for Nicola’s hand as they were descending the steps. Why? This reflex by Cool Hand Luke was as natural as a pregnant woman touching her stomach. I ask again – why?

There’s only one answer.

It’s the answer that fits with the Claddagh ring. It’s the answer that fits with the side jaunt to Galway. It’s the answer that fits with their natural chemistry, the hand holding, the canned “shared experience” and “unique relationship” responses, the playful sexual innuendos. It’s the answer that fits with Luke’s “the best foundation for love is friendship” bracelet. It’s the answer that fits with Nicola’s remark about “[t]he amount of inappropriate questions I got asked…about my relationship…” It’s the only fucking answer that makes sense.

But, the real kicker is, why don’t people believe that is the answer?

Why is it so hard to believe that Luke and Nicola could be in a real-life relationship?

That’s easy – because the Man Behind the Curtain told us so.

Who is the Man Behind the Curtain? Well, that’s also easy. It’s collectively the rag-mags and the social media creators on the prowl for a following. It’s the spread of misinformation at its worst and it’s so incredibly easy to do with, say, a pair of green-colored glasses.

Like I said, “…put these glasses on and you’ll see everything exactly the way I want you to see it.”

There was one major plot twist that came out of the World Tour, and you already know what that is. The seed was planted with a New Year’s Eve kiss, fertilized with blurry pictures, a compulsory hallway hug, and copycat photos, and encouraged to grow with a bit of junk news and a lot of social media innuendo. Now, I’m not saying the video and photographic evidence that was presented was fabricated; I’m simply suggesting the narrative that came out that evidence was skewed. The media, namely, social media creators, pushed us to plant Lutonia trees while Luke’s actions (i.e., not acknowledging the existence of Lutonia) told us to “pay no attention to the Man Behind the Curtain.”

Uh, so, what you’re saying is we shouldn’t have left that wannabe Wizard in Soho?

Ah, shit! I forgot about that fucker!

The unfortunate thing about the Lutonia narrative was that it was bolstered by insinuation that Luke would never be interested in Nicola. Now, whether these remarks were deliberately planted, or they were simply seedpods carried away by a storm, they were not overlooked by Lukolas – or Nicola. In fact, Nicola herself brushed upon it in her Harper’s Bazaar speech: “The amount of inappropriate questions I got asked about my appearance…” Yes, I’m referring to the suggestion that Luke preferred “brunettes” over “blondes.” Somehow this narrative was conveniently supported by the existence of – lo and behold! – the brunette “friend of a friend” Antonia, who happened to be slender. Again, whether it was intentional or not, the push by, initially, social media creators (and later gossip rags) to link Luke to Antonia inadvertently called the blonde in our story – Nicola – fat. I refuse to dance around that word because it is exactly what this disgusting narrative implied when it chose to compare Antonia to Nicola. Regardless of whether these gossipmongers “corrected” themselves by replacing “thin” with “brunette” and “fat” with “blonde,” the implication was that Luke would never be interested in Nicola because she had thick blonde hair. This was incredibly upsetting and confusing to many Lukolas because it was contrary to Luke’s behavior towards Nicola throughout the World Tour (and in Bridgerton behind-the-scenes clips).

I decided months ago that Luke was incredibly transparent. And, by that, I mean he’s terrible at keeping secrets. Luke himself admitted his “tell” to this was pulling at his ear – now go watch the World Tour with that information in mind. It’ll give you something to do, at the very least. Luke’s sincerity is also why the blonde versus brunette nonsense just doesn’t take flight for me. Any ways, as I hinted at earlier, Luke’s comments on the Bowral red carpet and his later comments in New York City about friends-to-lovers would – again, unfortunately – give the Man Behind the Curtain ammunition to debunk any real-life relationship between Luke and Nicola. Luke was quickly labeled as being “…dismissive of something ever happening between him and Nicola…” Those are literally the words The Tab used in an article dated May 22 to explain Luke and Nicola’s differing commentary about real-life friends-to-lovers. In fact, the article is titled, “Luke Newton has revealed the reason he’d never date Bridgerton co-star Nicola Coughlan.” Oddly – but not really given the source – Luke never actually said he would never date Nicola. But that fact didn’t stop it from becoming a theme of the World Tour – Luke didn’t believe in friends-to-lovers therefore he would never date Nicola – even though, by the end of the tour, Luke’s stance on this had seemingly changed. That’s not to say the rag-mags misquoted Luke – they didn’t – but the narrative they coiled around his words attempted to shut down the idea that Luke and Nicola would ever date in real life because Luke wasn’t interested. But what Luke was saying was that he believed in love-at-first sight. “I actually don’t think friends-to-lovers is something that happens in my life. If I meet someone, I know immediately.” Now, take that statement with the fact that Luke has repeatedly stated he remembers everything about the moment he met Nicola.

The above examples of gossip and innuendo are simply par for the course. The media manipulates facts all the time – whether it be through social media chatter or rag-mags putting their own spin on ordinary commentary – but this type of manipulation is not what puts the fandom in danger of itself. In fact, most of the gossip and innuendo that took root during the World Tour would have dissipated almost immediately after it ended – if it hadn’t been for Papsmear.

Yeah. That was disastrous.

Come to think of it, it was awfully convenient, too, don’t you think?

Absolutely. And you know what else was convenient? That little wannabe Wizard was –

Oh, yeah, I heard that, too! That clown has been trying to hand out green-colored glasses ever since!

Yep. Tried to give me a pair and I told it to go fuck itself and its little glass cat, too. I mean, they weren’t even name brand glasses. Fake ass, bitch.

All jesting aside, if you haven’t noticed already, I do, on occasion, use my writing to call out the fandom, usually as a whole. I mean, we are in this together, right? Actually, no; we ceased being Collectively Delulu after a few unsavory characters were bitten by the Hunter’s Moon and followed Nicola through the streets of New York and London. There was a major – and rather unexpected – shift in the fandom when the rabid Jakolas appeared from the dark corners of our enchanted forest. And I’m sure you’ve realized at this point in my story that I have one particular – oh, shit, I just realized I don’t even know to which fandom our wannabe Wizard belongs. Ruh-roh. Regardless, that motherfucker is in my peep sight because it is a perfect example of how fandom manipulation has reached a new level of toxicity.

Typically, I don’t care what part of the fandom you’re on. My general attitude is, to each their own. If you’re a Jakola and you find yourself spending an average of 15 minutes each week reading my Lukola blog, I applaud you for peeking outside of the den hole. Best not let Alpha find out, though. It’s all in good fun, right? I often find myself getting a good laugh from Jakola stories, especially when they theorize on the Woman Behind the Curtain. Question, though – did you find her? In all seriousness, if I didn’t consider Jakola and Lutonia perspectives, I would be borderline Conscientiously Stupid, now, wouldn’t I? After all, the desire for knowledge is what ultimately gave our Scarecrow his brain.

However, what I don’t find “in good fun” is when social media creators prey on more than one side of the fandom under phony pretense, namely, that they “just want Nicola to be happy.” Oh, these Cowardly Lions may argue that they’re simply being “neutral” – and, yes, I’m sure some instances of this do exist – however, neutrality does not embrace openly ridiculing one fandom over another, especially on a platform that is touted by its owners as being a “safe space” for everyone. The problem with these so-called “neutral creators” is that they’re only here for social media engagement – the clicks and the giggles – and they defect to the other side when the going gets tough. If you, too, take issue with this kind of creator, be soothed in knowing that when you play two sides, you find yourself with two-times the number of enemies.

What makes these so-called “neutral creators” – actually, let’s just call them the “Defectors” – so poisonous to the fandom is that they are made from the grease drippings found at the bottom of the barrel of the Conscientiously Stupid. The Conscientiously Stupid are one thing – they are the ones using their platforms to spread misinformation because they choose to ignore exculpatory evidence (i.e., they’re headstrong in their beliefs) – but the Defectors are typically the ones creating the misinformation and feeding it to the Conscientiously Stupid and then hanging them out to dry when the information proves to be false. The Conscientiously Stupid who refuse to “lose the battle” then resort to bullying (more so than usual) the Sincerely Ignorant of an opposing fandom. And in defense of their Sincerely Ignorant comrades (or simply because they’re sick and tired of the Conscientiously Stupid preventing anyone from having nice things), the Fact Finders – unceremoniously, I might add – have taken their own place on the battlefield (oh, yes, they are absolutely your tactical commanders). Now, the entire fandom is at war with each other – all because some wannabe Wizard – a Defector – convinced people to look through a pair of shiny, green-colored glasses. More than once.

Is it appropriate – or perhaps a bit catty – to put “ceasefire” here?

Ah, yes, well, uh, we have found ourselves a bit far from Oz at this point, haven’t we?

I suppose – but we are trying to help Dorothy find her way back home, and at least we now have an idea as to how she got lost.

Maybe one day we will get her back to Kansas.

Yeah, maybe.

Oh, silly me! I forgot to sneak in a sly reference to Dorothy’s third companion – the Tin Man! He’s perfect for the end of our story. You know, in the book, the Wizard was just an ordinary man who stumbled into his Ozian existence on a magnificent hot air balloon and took advantage of the power that Emerald citizens bestowed upon him. Yeah, yeah, yeah, the Wizard preyed on the naïve using deception and the power of suggestion and invoked fear in anyone who dared to question his authority –

Uh, where are you going with this?

Give me a minute!

Like I said – shit, where was I? – Oh, yes, the Wizard was just an ordinary man, and ordinary people are flawed. We all make mistakes. This is where our Tin Man comes in as he represents love and empathy. Yes, empathy; the ability to put yourself in someone else’s shoes, to understand and forgive, to take into consideration someone’s redeeming qualities –

You know that Wizard defected in his hot air balloon before taking Dorothy home, right?

Wait, what?

Okay, okay. It was Toto’s fault but the Wizard sure as shit didn’t come back for her!

Hmm, you’d almost think Toto knew the Wizard’s true colors all along…

“Au revoir, Wiz.”

[darcydarlingdabbles]

Tantalizing Television

RadioApple with a side dish of static - Hazbin Hotel

Explicit: Teasing, jealousy, Vox kinda gets cucked, secretly!est RadioApple, (switches/verses.)

4.5k

//Just so happens I was gonna do this anyway, now it's radioapple week. So it's meant to be right XD first time writing these characters and this ship...and I decided to make it harder on myself. Inspired by an IG Reel by akrcos. So naturally the song is Neon Medusa by The Midnight//

In one of the far wings of the Hazbin Hotel, a translucent form flickered to life in a plush red room. 

The hologram glimmered and Vox smack a hand into his screen. “C’mon ya piece of shit, work.” The overlord grunted, his projected body covered with blue static as it tried to stay solid. 

His flat eyes blinked, before his trademarked grin spread across his square face—Alastor’s dark hotel room finally becoming clear. And Vox was finally inside it.

Technically.

“Let’s see what the pompous ass is hiding.” 

Vox’s projection drifted forward, his half-corporal boots making no sound on the plush crimson carpet. His feet tangled in something on the floor—because he was still getting used to walking without feeling his footsteps—and because the place was a damn mess. 

“So much for a fastidious freak.” Vox snickered to himself, only to hiss out more garbled curses as he reached out to a dresser drawer. His translucent cyan fingers passed through the handle once, twice, before he focused on solidifying just enough to grasp it. 

Thinking he just might spare the projectionist demon who sold him this janky spell, Vox rummaged through the drawer. Looking for anything embarrassing—or juicy—to hold over Alastor’s head. 

Instead, his hand closed around something small and rubbery. 

Vox pulled out a bright yellow duck. 

“What the hell��?” He muttered, in utter confusion, as he uncovered an entire collection of rubber duckies.

The TV demon let out a grunt of frustration, squeezing one of the blasted things in his fist, making his hologram flicker as the toy let out a shrill little squeak. 

“Well well well, what do we have here?” A mocking lilt startled Vox, causing the duckie to go bouncing across the floor. It landed right at the high-heeled boots of the King of Hell himself. 

Lucifer was leaning casually against the four-poster bedframe, arms folded, and a devilishly smug grin on his lips. 

“Ah! Y-your Majesty!” Vox panicked, nearly backing into the dresser drawer he’d just opened. He’d been ready to kick some ass, now he had to prepare to kiss some.

Damn projectionist told him he was going to the room where Alastor spent the most time, not the archangel’s bedroom! 

“An Overlord reduced to snooping through drawers?” Lucifer clicked his tongue, his smile nearly as sharp as Alastor’s. “My my hell really has gone downhill with you guys in charge.” 

Vox felt his signal glitch with panic. 

“Now, I know you’re not stupid enough to try to sabotage my daughter’s hotel with me in it, right?” Lucifer took a few steps forward, and Vox wished his hologram could just vanish into the wall, but he was stuck until the spell ended. 

“No no no Your Highness, I’d never!” Vox said plaintiff, throwing a hands to play up his innocence. “I was just looking for Alastor, you know, old rivals. Messing with each other…ha ha.” 

The truth sounded like a lame excuse when he was saying it to Lucifer. 

“Trying to find him in my room is a little under the belt, don’t you think?” 

“Below the belt…you mean?”

“What did I say?”

“You said this was your room, sire?” Vox demanded, his flat screen head snapping around. “Fucking projectionist piece of shit.” 

The fallen angel’s yellow eyes narrowed on Vox’s form. “You’re using a projectionist, are ya?” Lucifer grinned. “Oh, that’s an old school trick—I with an old weakness.” The angel raised his hand, and snapped his fingers.

“Shit!”

Glowing golden ropes materialized, binding Vox’s projection from chest to ankles, before a flick of the blonde’s wrist sent him flying into the plush chair by the rumpled bed. 

Vox thrashed against his restraints, his shape lagging and distorting where the binds held him. But even his real demonic body would be nothing against pure angelic power. 

“Sir! I mean, I’m doing you a favor.” Vox protested, unable to help himself but trying to gab his way out. “The projectionist—he sent me where Alastor spends the most time in the hotel.”

Lucifer raised his eyebrows, his black lips suddenly pressed into a line—like a toddler with a secret. Vox was too busy pleading to notice. “You realize this means Alastor must have been spying on you, right? So so I’m letting you know! No need to get your feathers in a fluff!” 

“I decide when to fluff myself!” Lucifer snapped back, before making a face. “That sounded wrong, didn’t it?”

Vox opened his mouth, only to have it filled with static.

“Yes, darling, it did.” When a shadow stepped up from the half-lit room.

“Well now, Vox. You’ve gotten yourself into quite a conundrum, haven’t you?” The radio demon’s eyes burned with amusement and his sharp grin grew impossibly wider as he took in the scene. “Delightful to see you stooped so low as to rifle through my rival’s chambers.” 

“Hold the fuck up.” Vox’s screen flashed red. “You’re calling him your rival now?” 

Alastor and Lucifer glanced at each other, the angel’s face giving away more than the radio demon’s ever-present grin. 

Vox was too outraged to notice. “We’ve been at each other’s throats for fucking decades and suddenly this guy waltzes in!” He thrashed against his binds again. “And you’re making enemy goo-goo eyes at each other?!”

Alastor’s glee was practically luminescent. “My my, I did take you for the jealous type. But this, my good man, is a new low.” He leaned forward, arms folded neatly behind his back as the light of Vox’s screen glinted off teeth—and he twisted the knife in. “Though I hardly need to look to the king of hell to find a more interesting company than your static-filled nuisance.” 

“You smug son of a—” Vox leaned against his restraint, ready to bash his monitor into Alastor’s face—when the radio demon was suddenly a safe distance away. 

Lucifer stepped in front of Alastor and stuck a sharp heel squarely into the captive demon’s chest. The hologram flickered, but somehow held, tied in place by the divine rope lashed around him. 

“Watch your tone, buddy boy.” Lucifer gave a contemptuous sneer, about as much as his diminutive form could manage. 

“Now, now. Where are your manners, my friend?” Alastor chided, practically gleaming with sanctimoniousness. He loomed just behind the angel, his red-tipped fingers curling over Lucifer’s shoulders in a way that was almost…no, it couldn’t be. This was Alastor. And Vox knew damn well the radio demon didn’t invite contact. 

“I do adore it when you are ruthless, Your Majesty.” Alastor’s voice had gone smooth, almost purring. 

Vox’s screen flashed, like his circuits couldn’t compute an obvious flirtation from Alastor.

Even if Lucifer’s answering chuckle and the tilt of his head towards the smiling demon brought their faces closer than Vox had ever seen a living being get to his old nemesis. If they were still alive.

“Well now, Alastor, you old dog,” Vox taunted, seeing Alastor’s ears flick with irritation. “If I didn’t know ya better, I’d say ya needed the King of Hell to fight your battles for you now.” 

The radio demon straightened up, stiff as a rod, and Vox knew he’d dug under Alastor’s skin. Lucifer bore his heel further into Vox’s chest. If this projected body could bleed, he might be already. 

“As ever, Vox, I am more than capable of handling you myself.” His smile twitched. “But why get my hands dirty when I can watch the master at work?”

“He’s your master now, huh? Is the untouchable Alastor cozying up to the big boss down stairs?” Vox snapped.

Radio static burst through the room. Alastor answered to no one. And no one would imply otherwise. But, before he could put the demon in his place, the angel in front of him had to go blustering and bleeding heart.

“Listen here, you big piece of shit!” Lucifer glowered, his red pupils disappearing in a terrifying radiance. “Say anything like that again, and I will personally ensure that you spend the rest of eternity in Hell’s deepest, darkest, shittiest sewer. Got it flat face?” 

The angel yanked the captive demon forward, until his projected form was glitching all out of shape. Lucifer, the sweet fool he was, looked up at the smiling demon like a cat that had presented him with a half-dead mouse.

Unfortunately, Alastor loved cats. And dying things.

He had to regain control somehow. And that meant reigning in the devil himself. 

“You say the sweetest things when you’re threatening my enemies.” Alastor’s slender fingers gripped Lucifer’s face, curling deftly around the angel’s chin, and pulling the blonde’s gaze back to him. 

It worked like a charm, perhaps too well. 

Lucifer leaned into the touch, his cheeks impossibly redder, and his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When he opened them again, they were filled with an emotion that even Alastor could not be prepared for. 

Leaving him unguarded for what happened next. 

Lucifer, the sweet fool that he was, surged forward to kiss Alastor. Right in front of a gaping Vox. 

The radio demon should be livid. He made it clear their personal lives were not for public consumption—in any form.

Only for the petite archangel to hold nothing back in his gaze every time their eyes met.

So, why was Alastor melting into the press of lips, regardless of who was watching? 

A shiver ran down Alastor’s spine, taken in by the fierce protectiveness in that kiss. Misguided, clumsy, foolhardy, and vowed to shield him from harm with everything he had.

Which would be just lovely, if Alastor didn’t have to consider the crumbling reputation he’d just glued back together.

But, when his red eyes found Vox, already wearing a brilliant smile like he meant to expose this level of affection all along—he saw something he should have expected. 

The television demon’s eyes widened in shock, circuits buzzing with disbelief. His screen went blank like he’d overload, until the color blocked test pattern displayed the words ‘please stand by.’ Like his entire system had to reboot. 

He’d stunned the picture box—and that, the radio demon could work with.

“What the fuck, Alastor?” Vox crackled, outrage written over his features. “You don’t like being touched! Isn’t that your whole damn shtick?”

Crimson eyes slid to Vox with barely concealed loathing. Alastor tutted, lips curling in a mocking sneer. Soaking in that glorious, irrational, jealousy.

“Oh, I don’t.” Alastor said simply, turning a softer smile to Lucifer, knowing the Overlord was watching with wrapt attention. “Not by just anyone, and particularly not by you, Vox.” 

Vox’s screen fritzed again, eyes flashing with fury. 

“Oh-ho, I know that green-eyed monster when I see it~” Lucifer taunted in a sing-song voice. His hand tightened around Alastor’s waist. 

“This all started with your silly little obsession, did it not?” Alastor mused with a dark chuckle. And the radio demon, utterly amused with this revelation from his rival, leaned in to the assumption. “When did you realize your propositions to have me on your team turned into utterly pathetic advances?”

“Cocky fucking bastard!” Vox’s voice distorted and crackled. “Don’t act so high and mighty! You just found a higher power to whore yourself out to!” The Vox hologram rocked violently against its bindings, wild with jealous rage, somehow even more deranged and unhinged without a corporeal form to ground it.

Static burst throughout the room, lights flickering and shadows distorting. As Alastor’s smile stayed perfectly in place. 

The radio demon leaned forward, teeth glinting with pure malice as he tapped his microphone against Vox’s screen, making the cyan distortion appear again.

“If you think it wise to spread gossip about me, by way of blackmailing Our King…on your head, be it.” He said in a sadistic purr. “No one will believe a thing you saw here.” 

Over his shoulder, he felt his shadows banished. Lucifer had his back with a flash of divine light and power. 

And nothing felt better than rubbing salt into Vox’s wounded ego.

Alastor reached out a clawed hand, pressing the tip of a nail into the hologram’s chest. The projection wavered and warped under his touch, but still provided a just hint of resistance. 

“Then again, this isn’t really you, is it?”

He felt Lucifer’s hand tighten at his waist. “It’s a hell projection dear, “ he explained, his voice amused. “Meant to torture sinners by allowing them to touch, but never be touched in return.” 

“Oh.” Alastor’s ears perked up. “How inspiringly cruel.” 

He straightened up, shooting Lucifer a wicked smile, before he grabbed the shorter man by the lapels, and shoved the angel back into Vox’s lap. 

Both men appeared completely taken aback.

Vox’s screen glitched between showing his two-dimensional eyes wide with excitement and indignation.

“Al, you sure about this?” Lucifer’s face was painted with the same shock, but with a bit of delight curling his lips. Wondering if the radio demon was serious. 

Alastor caught his eye with a smirk. His long nimble fingers making quick work of the buttons, revealing the scarlet dress shirt and black suspenders underneath—shedding his coat entirely and tossing it onto the bed. 

Vox had never seen Alastor in a scrap less of clothing before, and those slim shoulders and narrow waist made something hot and hungry twist in his gut. 

Lucifer was already reaching for the demon, knowing this was the signal that his partner wanted to be handled. 

  Alastor moved to straddle the King of Hell with his long legs, caging his rival overlord as well, while he captured the angel’s mouth in a searing kiss. 

Lucifer groaned against his lips. 

“I can still fucking see you sick perverts!” Vox snarled, face burning with humiliated fury. 

Vox was having a conniption. Since when did Alastor let anyone touch him, let alone paw at him and his immaculate clothes? But here the radio demon was, sitting astride Lucifer’s lap, and kissing him like he wanted to devour him. 

Alastor tsked, wagging a chiding finger as he nuzzled against Lucifer’s cheek with a rumbling purr. 

Vox watched Lucifer’s hand slide down the demon’s waist, gripping his hips to pull him in even closer.

Alastor’s low chuckle met the gesture, that clawed hand grabbing the chair behind the other demon’s head. As he lifted his hips and rolled them against Lucifer’s. 

Through his eyelids, Alastor could see Vox’s screen flashing and flickering, a sound of disgust—and abject envy hitting the deer demon’s ears. 

Though his delight at Vox’s outrage was shriveling in comparison to the familiar delight of Lucifer’s hands on him. He’d never wanted for touch, never felt so starved without it, until the first time he’d felt the angel’s lips on his own. Now, he was always famished.

“Get off me, you sick fucks!” Vox snarled, struggling against his bonds as he tried to buck them off.

With a sharp intake of breath, Lucifer pulled away from the kiss. A sly grin played on his lips as he cast a fleeting glance at the flat screen mounted behind him. “Voxy might not really be here.” he purred, his hands sliding up along Alastor’s torso, hooking into the black suspenders he wore, and the demon let himself be pulled forward. Just to see the TV glitch. “But I can feel him getting hard.” 

The television behind Lucifer flashed a brilliant, blushing red and Alastor laughed at this tantalizing little tidbit. 

He leaned in, his forehead pressed to the angel’s as he murmured. “What a shame I cannot be recorded…” he taunted, his lips drawn over the angels with pure want and sweetness that he gave to no one else. “I suppose you shall have to commit it to memory.” 

“Fuck you both,” Vox growled, his projection flickering with impotent rage. Practically frothing at the mouth. Because beneath the anger and the jealousy—was the shameful desire. The longing to be touched and wanted by Alastor the way Lucifer was. 

“Oh, you wish chatter box.” The angel snorted, only to have the radio demon’s claws pull his attention back. 

“No, I—” Vox couldn’t even get the protest out of his mouth. It was…he couldn’t be jealous of Lucifer? Or Alastor…Or…both. 

He didn’t know anymore, and that was the greatest torture of all. 

The two seemed too lost in each other to give much of a damn about him. 

“Darling~” Alastor purred, moving to stand with as much grace as he could manage in this state. Causing two breaths to hitch. “I think…we need some privacy. Don’t you?”

“Mm, couldn’t agree more.” Lucifer’s eyes sparkled as he stood and ran his hands up Alastor’s chest, finding his tie and undoing it with deft fingers. Before pulling his collar to bring him back nose to nose. “I want you all to myself.” 

A full-body shudder rippled through the lean demon at the intimate words and touch. They’d been playing a game of teasing, hardly doing anything more heavy than petting—but it seemed Lucifer was ready for more than just a little light handling. 

The angel’s fingers slipped into Alastor’s hair, tilting his head back and leaving a searing trail down his neck, popping open the collar of his shirt in his wake. 

Exposing more of his skin than Alastor intended. 

“P-Perhaps we shouldn’t give our...captive audience too much of a peep show,” Alastor managed, static crackling around the words. 

Lucifer pulled back, reading something through Alastor’s stiff smile. “Oh, Al—!”

The demon pressed his pointed fingers to the angel’s lips, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Clumsy as ever, but affectionately honest. And Alastor wanted to kiss the apology off of his lips.

“You can’t just leave me here!” Vox’s screen flickered and glitched, his useless hands clenching at his side. “While you go off and—”

Vox couldn’t even finish the thought, his mind rebelling at the images that flashed before his eyes. Alastor and Lucifer, tangled together in the sheets, their bodies moving as one. Alastor’s head thrown back in ecstasy, Lucifer’s name falling from his lips like a prayer.

The real men in front of them were leaning into each other again, like they couldn’t surface from each other long enough to care that Vox was here. 

Alastor nipped at Lucifer’s ear, voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur only they could hear. A thrilled laugh spilled from the fallen angel at whatever filthy suggestion was offered.

“You’re a singularly wicked thing,” he praised, squeezing Alastor’s hip meaningfully. “Wouldn’t dream of denying you.”

With a casual flick of one hand, the glowing angelic bindings holding Vox constricted suddenly, forcing his projection into an awkward, hunched position on the chair. 

Alastor smirked at the muffled noise of frustration.

Alastor sauntered over to where Vox’s bound projection fought against its ethereal bonds. He tsked in mock disappointment, crouching down to meet those twinkling electronic eyes, seeing how they darted to the open collar of his shirt. 

And how the rope criss-crossed his screen, gagging Vox at last. 

“Such unbecoming behavior from an esteemed colleague,” he chided, all velvet and menace. “Though I can’t say I’m surprised—you were always dreadfully uncouth.”

Vox’s screen flashed furiously, the test pattern barely holding. Alastor watched the frantic display with undisguised relish.

“No witty comebacks? No desperate pleas?” He feigned a pout. “Disappointing. Then again, you always are.” 

Straightening, Alastor’s microphone staff materialized in one hand with a crackle of static. He gave it an experimental twirl, grinning madly.

“It’s just a shame you won’t be able to feel yourself burning in the lake of fire.” With an oddly graceful sweep of the staff, a swirling vortex sparked to life at their feet—a hellish portal yawning open. Searing brimstone fumes billowed forth, carrying the roar of raging flames. 

“Do enjoy the sight of your flesh melting though, ta-ta!” Alastor gave a teasing wave as Vox’s projection was lashed with his shadow tentacles, and dragged into the fiery pit itself. 

Lucifer watched the whole display with rapt amusement from the bed, crimson eyes glittering. As Alastor turned back towards him, snapping away the vortex with a casual flick, the fallen angel reclined with unabashed hunger written across his handsome features.

“I do love it when you do you evil, Al.” The angel grinned, popping onto his boots. “It’s hot as hell.” 

Alastor rolled his eyes at the terrible pun, but couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped him. The man wore his heart on his sleeve to an embarrassing extent. 

What made Alastor find it so inexplicably pleasing?

“Then you must be perpetually hot and bothered. Sounds like a terrible state of affairs to be in.”

“Not one you can relate to, huh?” Lucifer grinned, wrapping his arms around Alastor’s tapered waist.

The taller demon ducked, smirking only broader when he stayed just out of the reach of the Lucifer’s lips, to the King’s visible frustration. 

“I may relate, as of late.” 

That was all the shorter man needed to reach up and grab Alastor in for another kiss. 

“I can help with that.” Lucifer offered sweetly, pointed fingers curling into the radio demon’s hair to demand a deeper kiss.

Lucifer, with a level of gracelessness that was miraculous for an angel, pushed Alastor back onto his rumpled bed.

The slender radio demon's body relaxed into the mattress, his long legs splayed indignantly—so he thought. Though there was no hint of mirth in his lover’s yellow eyes.

Lucifer was already on top of him, forked tongue sliding past his lips with desperate need.

Alastor felt Lucifer's sharp teeth glided along his jaw, marking a trail of small kisses down his length of neck.“Impatient, are we?” Alastor attempted a tease, but his ever-practiced voice faulter under the angel’s undaunted enthusiasm.

“Oh, honey. I know how getting one over on someone gets you going.” He lifted his head, only to waggle those damn eyebrows. “Do you want me to slow down?”

Lesiurely, Lucifer made a scorching path down the demon’s chest and torso, pushing apart his blood red shirt inch by inch.

“Fuck you.” Alastor gripped at his golden blonde hair, trying to shove his head down further.

Lucifer resisted the force like a tiger swatted by a house cat—sending another thrill down the demon’s spine.

The angel was pausing to swirl his tongue into the grooved indents of lean muscle and hipbones. Lucifer’s clever mouth worked lower still—until finally he freed Alastor’s hard cock and enveloped him in the welcoming heat of the angel’s mouth.

The radio demon arched up from the bed with a strangled cry of static, clawing at the crimson sheets as Lucifer’s mischievous skills swiftly robbed him of breath and higher cognition. Alastor’s legs fell open wider as debauched sounds hissed from between his teeth. 

Lucifer hummed his approval around his mouthful, that damned tongue of his flicking ceaslessly as he sucked Alastor down.

The demon was already trembling under him. Too damn easily.

Only when Alastor’s sounds reached a true crescendo of desperation did Lucifer finally pull back with a filthy pop.

“My, my...it seems the great Alastor turns quite tame with just a little bit of attention,” Lucifer purred, sinuously licking his lips clean.

“Consider yourself fortunate that pride flatters you, darling.” Alastor snarled hoarsely, eyes burning crimson and fangs bared as radio noise crackled around him.

With a snap of Alastor fingers, their clothes vanished, only to appear folded neatly on the nearby chair.

Lucifer quirked a brow as Alastor reached down to hastily prep himself. The radio demon’s long fingers deftly worked, slicking himself with conjured lubricant.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” Alastor growled out the demand. 

Lucifer’s grin stretched wider, all too eager to oblige.

He surged up to capture that snarling mouth in a hungry, devouring kiss. Pinning Alastor’s wiry body back against the bed, careful to align perfectly with the demon’s entrance—before snapping forward in a brutal thrust.

Alastor threw his head back with a guttural groan of blissful torment.

Static discharged in a blistering wave, scattering signals and causing lights to flicker in their room. The radio demon’s slender fingers scrabbled for purchase, digging into Lucifer’s back as his legs wrapped vice-tight around the angel’s powerful body.

Lucifer leaned in close, to the constant rumble coming from the demon’s stretched lips.

“Growl for me all you like, my dear,” he purred darkly. “I know exactly what you need.”

Lucifer set a punishing pace—plunging into Alastor’s willing warmth over and over.

The demon keened brazenly beneath him. Clinging with a desperation that belied centuries of scheming and solitude, finally crumbling to primal need.

Their power swirled and clashed in wild waves.

Alastor’s shadows swirled and snarled, his eyes burning bright in the room's dark as he fought to keep them open, his teeth gnashed together.

Lucifer’s vast angelic grace responded—six resplendent wings unfurling in stark juxtaposition—keeping Alastor’s demonic power in eclipsed beneath him.

The angel groaned deep in his chest at that exquisite sight his tightly buttoned partner made when he finaly let go. He drank it in with reverence.

And that undeniable dominant power shattered the last strand of Alastor’s restraint.

He came with a harsh cry, clenching to the angel’s cock as he came. Making a mess of them both, knowing that was exactly what Lucifer wanted before he was spent inside Alastor.

Lucifer panted harshly, sweat beading his brow as the pleasure rolled through him.

For long moments, they simply clung together, chests heaving and hearts pounding violently.

Lucifer nuzzled into the crook of Alastor’s neck, relishing their closeness, the scent and taste of his lover’s bliss. He felt utterly sated, lethargic in the most delicious way.

Alastor panted still, almost silently, arm thrown over his face as he attempted to compose himself. Hiding his mouth as he drew ragged breaths.

But when at last Lucifer made to pull away, shadowy tendrils lashed around his waist, refusing to let him go.

Alastor whimpered faintly as he drew the fallen angel back down atop him, long limbs winding around Lucifer to keep him nestled close.

The blonde chuckled, the sound warm with fond amusement as he happily settled in the circle of Alastor’s embrace.

Trailing reverent touches along those deceptively delicate features, he murmured, “My sweet little deer demon...”

A ragged growl vibrated low in Alastor’s chest at the endearment. But there was no real threat behind it as he clung to Lucifer—soaking up every caress, every brush of affection in still, sated bliss.

When Lucifer’s fingers carded through his disheveled hair, he even leaned subtly into the intimate touch like a cat being stroked.

“Hush now,” Lucifer purred, placing a soft kiss to Alastor’s brow. “Let me take care of you...”

Alastor’s only response was a halfhearted grumble as he tucked his face into the curve of Lucifer’s neck, content to let the former archangel dote on him.

Just for now.

[raymans-hubby]

Spoiling!

Gift for @ch4osm4ster !

AO3 LINK

Desc: Grand Minimus is spoiling you after a mission!

It was about 12 pm when you came back from your adventure. Hair is messy, bruises everywhere, your back aches. However it was all worth it to see your love, Minimus again after 3 weeks of fighting for the glade.

You step inside the stone castle, the rough grey naked walls being oddly comfortable under your fingers. The cold air enveloped you, it felt like a tranquilizing hug, but it wasn't unwelcome.

Meanwhile, Minimus was waiting for you in his robe. He had a warm bath prepared for you, with only the best of soaps of course. He had also gotten a grand meal cooked, its smells filling up the throne room, with your love sat at top of it.

"Make sure my love is only served the best of the best, satisfactory is a necessity when it comes to the sleeping quarters! They are profoundly fatigued, i am certain!" Minimus demanded a Lum, his voiced raised.

"Ok sir!" The fly went off to set up the bedroom just as you walked into the room.

"Ah, there is my beloved!" He threw himself off his chair to kiss your hand. Your body jerks slightly, falling on top of the velvet red carpet. Minimus realizes how he was maybe too forward.

"I apologize profoundly, Y/N.. i ought to respect my beloved's boundaries." He coughs, pulling away slightly.

He leads you to the dining room, where the most delicious meal you have ever seen. Your mouth drools at the lavish feast, he has made sure to include all your favorites.

"Now, darling, settle down, I am assured that your seat is comfortable and snug. Exclusive for my sweetheart." He kisses your cheek as he sat you down.

He sits on the luxurious chair next to you. As you eat, he looks at you lovingly. His eye brows lowering as his smiles widened, hes clearly so in love with you.

------

Minimus walks you to the grand bathroom, it was honestly ridiculous with how over top the whole thing was. The whole area had a mermaid and ocean vibe, the sinks and tub being in the shape of shells.

Speaking of the bathtub, the thing was made out of the finest marble, the faucet was sold yellow gold and it was filled to the brim with bubbles.

"It is my duty to guarantee that you, my love, are cleansed in a enjoyable fashion-" The king suddenly stops, his face becoming a deeper shade of blue.

"Not in THAT sense-"

You laugh, a bit flustered yourself. You knew his fancy English would kick him in the ass one day or the other.

"Anyhow, i shall be purging you of all the wounds and grime that has ended up on your... exquisite frame darling."

He was gonna bathe you, with his own 2 hands.

You gulp.

This was going to be something.

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

He carried you this time to his bedroom. You were surprised about being man handled by an actual king, the king of the Teensie's no less.

Minimus' room was just as ostentatious as the lavatory. The walls were made out of deep brown planks, with hand crafted decor sprinkled into them. The only piece of furniture in the room was a bed, made out of gold.

You were placed into the bed, and you slowly sunk into the soft mattress. You have never felt something so soft in your life. The sheets are a deep shade of red, like the love Minimus felt for you.

Speaking of which, he laid down next to you and guided your head to his chest. He gently caressed your head with his fingers, the long blue limbs guiding you to sleep.

"Sweet dreams, my love."

[neons-library]

Familiar Skies: Part 1 - Chapter 10

(My Little Pony FIM - Alternate Universe Fanfiction)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56940316/chapters/144789952

FimFiction Link: https://www.fimfiction.net/story/557489/familiar-skies-part-1

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Next: https://www.tumblr.com/neons-library/771037893731942400/familiar-skies-part-1-chapter-11?source=share

Previous: https://www.tumblr.com/neons-library/769622083925852160/familiar-skies-part-1-chapter-9?source=share

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Queen Celestia

A tea cup levitated by magic settled onto a similarly decorated plate with a small *clink*. Celestia sighed and returned her attention to the paperwork before her. That was one thing she never found she enjoyed doing as Queen, even after all these years as ruler. And it seemed to her, that as the years went on, and ponykind advanced in technology, the amount of paperwork to be done just kept growing.

"Let's see..." she mused, using her magic to lift up a cup of quills.

The revisions to the west wing needed to be underlined in this form... and the approved projects needed to be circled in red. Now what about the budget reque-

"AH!"

Celestia dropped the quill cup, and lifted a hoof to her head. A sharp, stabbing sensation hit her, jabbing right on her temple, where her horn connected to her skull. She reeled away from her writing desk, her large white wings flailing out in response.

Her horn lit up in a burst of uncontrolled magic. Celestia opened her eyes, hoping to gain some control of this sudden attack. But when she opened her eyes... she was no longer in her study.

She stood in a dimly lit room, the walls composed of old stonework, and the ground beneath her was a faded red carpet. The pain in her head suddenly subsided, now only a dull ache. The room was... familiar. Ahead of her, the room grew bright; several colorful lights were moving towards her, and fast.

As they drew near, she recognized them as the Elements of Harmony. Their small gem-cut shapes became clearer. They flew up to- and then through her! Celestia turned as they flew through her, only feeling a slight chill as they did so. As she turned, the scenery changed around her once more.

Now facing the direction the elements were flying towards, Celestia stood in a dark, overwhelming forest. But, this time, she was not alone. All around her stood silhouettes of ponies, though she could not see them clearly. Their figures were hazy and dark.

Turning her attention back to the elements, she saw them stop some distance ahead of her. They stood still, floating in midair. And from the dark forest, she began to see a figure appear, walking towards the soft glow of the elements.

Her blood ran cold, chilling her entire body. From the deep shadows of the woods, emerged the figure of Nightmare Moon. Like the other ponies, she was not entirely clear in her appearance. But, as she drew nearer to the elements, her figure became more defined. And that same vicious expression... was just the same as it had been nearly one thousand years before.

Celestia watched, drenched in fear, as Nightmare Moon approached the elements. With swift vengeance, she stood and came crashing down on the elements, shattering them into a thousand sparkling pieces.

"NO!" Celestia wailed, bolting forward.

As she lifted her hooves, the scene changed once more. Celestia reeled from the sudden shift, and stumbled as the dark forest faded away. Like watercolor bleeding onto a page, a new scene took over, washing the former darkness in pale sunlight.

Celestia now stood in a room again, this one resembling a hallway from the castle she resided in now. The walls were the same off-white color, decorated in deep purples, vibrant golds, and rich reds. She stood facing a large wooden door, also closely resembling any that could be found in Canterlot Castle.

The door began creaking open, and from it, a bright light poured out. Celestia lifted a wing up to her face in response, squinting. The door creaked open a little more, and from it, four foals came galloping out of the light.

Celestia lowered her wing slowly, letting her eyes adjust to the bright light. They were four unicorn foals... and she recognized one of them... she thought. But, where had she seen them before? This sudden vision held Celestia's mind in a slight daze... she couldn't recall specific details at the moment.

The three other foals, she was sure, she hadn't seen before. They galloped around her, as if she didn't exist at all. They were giggling and bounding around each other, talking excitedly and laughing. Celestia couldn't hear anything they were saying. Their voices were muffled, as though speaking underwater.

She watched them gallop off and out of her sight. They felt... familiar to her, in a way she couldn't describe. She turned back to the open door, each wooden slab now fully open. Celestia closed her eyes, and walked into the brightness. She felt the warmth of the light wash over her, calming her and refreshing her mind.

When she opened her eyes again, she was in her study once more. The vision was over. Celestia lifted her knocked over quills, and gathered the papers she'd been working on, setting them on a nearby shelf. They would have to wait until later.

She had something more pressing to do.

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

Sunset Shimmer

Sunset sat on a particularly comfortable chair on one of the many balconies lining Canterlot Castle. A small pile of papers and schedules sat on a side table, as well as a sweet, fruity drink she'd requested before the kitchen staff left for the night. Despite the work she was doing, Sunset found she was actually quite comfortable with this evening's setting.

It was surprisingly warm for how late it was, and the schedules she was presented with all seemed to be lining up in her favor. The eraser end of her pencil was clenched between her teeth. Sunset had been so involved in her work, she hadn't even noticed that she'd been chewing on the pencil eraser. She only noticed when she had to remove it to mark down a note on her personal schedule.

"Oh." She remarked, a little grossed out by the chewed rubber bit.

Sunset sighed and set the pencil down, stretching and shifting in her seat. The sun had set only a few minutes ago, and there might still be some more work to do... But Sunset felt it alright to call it a night and settle in for bed. Just as she was lifting her cup to finish the last of her drink- a bright flash of light startled her, and she looked in the direction it came from.

Celestia was now standing on the far side of the balcony. She knew it was a large castle and a lot of ground to cover... but really? Teleportation? Sunset sat upright, desperately hoping that Celestia couldn't read thoughts.

"What is it?" Sunset asked, already gathering up her papers and clipboard. "Is something wrong?"

Celestia smiled and shook her head.

"No Sunset, everything is alright." Celestia replied, opening the glass doors of the balcony with her magic.

"But there is something of importance that I wish to discuss with you, if that is alright." Celestia continued, walking through the door, and holding it open for Sunset.

"Um, yes? I mean- I AM your advisor... after all!" Sunset replied.

Of course, she still wanted to crawl under her sheets, BUT her duty to her queen came first. And although Celestia's tone was calm, Sunset was still weary of her sudden appearance. Something was clearly going on.

Sunset followed Celestia all the way to Celestia's study, placed just above the castle's library. Sunset set down her papers on a small table and continued to Celestia's writing desk. Celestia had not spoken a word as the two walked, and it was beginning to worry Sunset.

Celestia levitated an armchair next to her desk, and sat down. Sunset, eyeing Celestia suspiciously, took a seat on the stool at Celestia's writing desk. When she had still been a student, Celestia often let Sunset use her desk for writing assignments or studying. It was usually a comfortable place for her. Now... not so much.

Sunset cleared her throat and glanced at the desk, noticing a pile of blank scrolls, envelopes, and Celestias' personal wax seal stamp.

"Sunset, do you remember the night that... That I asked you to stay and become my advisor?" Celestia asked.

"You mean the night I was going to betray you?" Sunset thought.

The sting of her "almost-betrayal" coming back in full force. She wondered whether she'd ever be able to move on from that night.

"Yes, I... How could I forget?" Sunset replied, trying her best to keep her tone calm and collected.

"I had mentioned that the day Nightmare Moon... my sister, will return to Equestria... It is not far off from now." Celestia continued.

"Mhm." Sunset replied, unsure of where this was leading.

That information- in the wake of Sunset's breakdown and subsequent promotion- was admittedly brushed aside. Sunset had found it to be of slight interest when Celestia had brought it up, those many months back. But since then, Sunset truly had not given it any further thought.

"I received a vision of her return." Celestia conceded, her eyes sharpening ever-so-slightly as she said this.

"Oh! ...Really?" Sunset stiffened slightly at this mention, her full attention on Celestia's words.

"What did you see?" Sunset asked cautiously.

Celestia's gaze fell, landing on the floor for a moment, then lifted back up to meet Sunset's eyes.

"I saw her destroy the Elements of Harmony." Celestia replied, her tone certain.

Sunset felt her skin tingle, and her hairs stand up. That wasn't possible, right? The Elements of Harmony can't be destroyed; they're meant to be the ultimate magical protectors! Or so everypony had been taught.

"A-are you SURE that's what you saw?" Sunset asked, lifting a hoof onto the desk to steady herself. "Maybe you just had a bad dream?"

"No, Sunset. It was a vision of events yet to come." Celestia lifted a hoof to Sunset's chin, and gave a warm smile.

"But, I believe I also received a vision of how we can prevent that future from taking place." Celestia sighed, lowering her hoof again.

Sunset blinked, mentally resetting herself. None of this was making much sense to her, and Celestia's mostly calm demeanor certainly wasn't helping anything.

"Your highness- Celestia, how- what are you talking about?" Sunset asked, still holding back her full confusion on the matter.

Celestia laughed faintly and stood from her seat, walking around the room slowly, though still addressing Sunset as she did so.

"It is confusing, I understand." Celestia remarked. "It would be a lie to say that I fully understand the vision I received. Visions, in my limited experience, are often like that."

Celestia stood before a tapestry hung on a far wall. A scene of ponies of all kinds playing and living together displayed on it.

"They are not always so obvious. I do not always know what they mean when I receive them." Celestia walked away from the tapestry, and back towards Sunset.

"But, I find that in time... I understand their purpose. Their symbols, their imagery... in time are fully revealed to me." Celestia came up to another tapestry, this one far older and paler than the one before. Two alicorn sisters decorated it, their bodies encircling an intertwined sun and moon.

"I do not wish them to always be that way." Celestia uttered, more to herself than Sunset. "But it is a miracle that I receive them at all."

Celestia returned to her seat beside Sunset, sighing deeply. "Whatever lies ahead... I cannot say for sure; I do not know exactly what lies ahead. But I do know who I trust, and who will help me to understand these things."

Sunset smiled, and glanced at the stack of papers once more. Celestia nodded and settled down in her seat.

"Now," Celestia remarked, "I need you to draft some letters."

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

[honora-antares]

I'm calling this wip:

The Beholder

"...as neere is Fancie to Beautie, as the pricke to the Rose, as the stalke to the rynde, as the earth to the roote." -John Lyly's, Euphues and his England

Pairings: Sirius Black/Severus Snape, James Potter/Lily Evans, and Other Minor Pairings

enjoy!

July, 1979

There was a sense of nostalgia when Sirius entered the breakfast nook. It almost felt as if he was walking one summer morning in the Potters residence, trekking barefooted down carpeted steps to where he could hear laughter and happiness. Though it was well into the month of July, the sense of summer holidays had all but been done for. Had been for roughly a year now.

Still, he could pretend. Though with the added picture of one Lily Evans, soon to be Potter, in front of the hot, stone hearth.

“And that's the last of them.” Lily chirped as she took out freshly baked buns before placing them on the metal racks to her left to cool. “Morning, Sirius! You beat James today.”

He lets out a sleepy laugh, feels the warmth it brings from within and settles on a high stool that's against the wall separating the nook from the kitchen. “I'm not surprised, Remus had him by the antlers in the last quidditch game last night.”

They had all gathered for the weekend, Remus taking the two days off from his internship in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Using his status as a werewolf as an excuse to “further his data collection” and whatnot. He's aiming to change the views that his kind gets. Working hard in getting the public to understand the circumstances of his situation. It hasn't been long, but there's hope.

Peter had been the one to leave first. Having to go pick up his wife from his in-laws. It came as a shock to everyone in their group. All of them had thought James would be the one to propose and marry first. Alas, Peter had beaten him to it. So far that when Peter had announced to them Charity’s pregnancy over Saturday dinner, James almost fainted. Married and pregnant all within a span of seven months was a feat only Peter could have pulled off. Of course everyone was beyond delighted. Fleamont had gone to the cellar and brought up his favourite scotch that he keeps for special occasions such as this.

Truly a special day; the next generation of The Marauders. Sirius couldn't wait.

“Well, that's no excuse to sleep in late.” Lily states as she takes off the apron from around her neck and waist. “I'll go wake him up. Mum and dad are waiting for us to eat breakfast with them. Will you come too?”

Sirius ponders her question. Both Effie and Monty had gone out for breakfast themselves. Save for the staff and house elves, the manor would be left empty. Ah, fuck it, he had nothing better to do but sleep the day away. Might as well meet the people who will become James' family come September.

“I'll come. I've always wondered if your family has red hair like you.”

“You will be sorely disappointed.” Laughs Lily as she leaves the kitchen to wake her fiancé.

Sirius doesn't reply. Instead, he hops off the stool and steals a still hot bun from the rack, needing to blow just a bit to speed up its cooling.

It takes James thirty-seven minutes to leave his bed, shower, and get dressed. Really, considering the circumstances, it could be a new record. He usually takes an hour in the shower alone. Dressed in a simple dark grey jumper and jeans, James enters the breakfast nook where Sirius was reading the cookbook Lily had left out.

“I haven't felt this sore after flying since first year. Merlin, you stop riding for a few months and it all goes out the window.” James laments as he struggles to clip his watch on. “I swear my nethers looked a bit swollen!”

Sirius laughs when Lily shows up, slapping the back of his head with her scarf, “Henry James Potter, you will cease with your vulgarity!”

Pushing past them, she then goes to fist up a good amount of Floo powder before entering the fireplace. With a glare directed at James, Lily lets the glittery powder fall as she clearly pronounces her destination. "The Trolls’ Stool, Manchester!”

Like The Leaky Cauldron in London, The Trolls Stool was a gateway into the Wizarding fold through a wall-sized mirror at the back of the restaurant. In their case, the Floo channel was one that was open all hours of the day. Since Lily's parents were still Muggles, there was no way the Ministry would allow for their fireplace to be turned into a Floo channel. Hence the reason they travelled to the restaurant in the first place. From there, it's a simple twenty minute cab drive to 19 Finchley Grove, Spinner’s End.

Lily's childhood home was—like most others across Europe—semi attached to its neighbour's right. Built in red-orange bricks and brown roof tiles, its door is a similar colour to its exterior. Two steel gates attached to a brick fence separate the home from the walking path. Lily instructs the cab driver to turn in through the larger of the fences that's already opened, a middle-aged man stands by, waving as they drive by.

When Sirius exits the vehicle, the man is making his way towards them, a bright smile on his face as he goes to hug Lily. Her father, he figures, if not from the familiarity, then from the shade of green their eyes share.

“There you are, Flower, I was beginning to think you two had run into some sort of trouble!” mused the man as Lily returned the hug with enthusiasm only a daughter who hasn't seen her father in years—though it's only been days—could muster. Sirius took the time to look around the spacious porch. Squared tiles line the ground, leading to the front steps, flower beds keeping them company.

“That would be my fault, Charlie.” James explained as he rounded the cab to accept the opened arms of both his fiancee and future father-in-law, creating a bubble of warmth. Sirius listens absentmindedly as he comes closer to the flowers. There's so many, yet he only notices four different kinds. The pink roses were the most recognizable, their colouring a vibrant pink with pale whites on their insides. Behind their shrubs, tall stems with long leafs and white bulbs not yet sprouted provide a nice contrast. To the other side, more white flowers, although significantly smaller, make up the bed to vivacious violet.

There's another kind of flower, ways to the back, almost covered up completely by the natural greenery of the rest. Sirius could make out the telltale signs of a deep blue before his attention was lured back to his friends.

“Hey, Sirius!” The flowers were left forgotten as he makes his way back, Lily has a hand outstretched to him and she grabs his own once he was close enough. “Let me introduce you!” She gestures to the hearty man in front of them, "This is Dad,” her hand comes back to him, “Dad, this is Sirius Black, James’ best mate.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Sirius steals a quick glance to Lily, his grin reaching his eyes, “Dad.”

Lily's dad laughs at her groan as he accepts his handshake. “Charlie Evans, but feel free to call me Dad if you so wish.”

Sirius mirrors his laugh, it's been so long since he had smiled as much as he has this past month. The life of an Heir is no sweet feat as others think it is. As soon as his graduation dinner was over and done with, his mother wasted no time in shipping him out of the country to visit all Black estates around Europe. A whole year of travelling, only staying in one place for a couple of weeks at a time took a toll on him.

His last stop before James had sent him a wedding invitation, he was overseeing the pearl farms the family had in Romania. He left not a day later, stating he had personal business back home to attend to. The family incharge of taking care of the farms were—of course—understanding and bid him a safe journey home. Sirius decided it would be in his best interest to inform his mother of his early departure himself, therefore he asked the family to let their Lord know that there was no reason for him to notify Lady Black of his conclusion. And Sirius did. The day after he arrived in London and was well on his way to the Potter Mansion.

Sirius follows James and Lily inside, meanwhile Charlie stays behind to pay the cab driver making sure to lock the gate closed after its departure. The interior shares the same feeling as the outside. Warm and cosy, with the family room being the first to welcome guests. The wall that connects with the neighbours has the hearth, its brick as red as the fire itself; its stone as black as the soot that makes up its bed. On the opposite side, two suede lawson sofas are positioned in an L shape with a one seater in between. A bay window, almost the same height as the wall, illuminates the room with natural light, its own sofa littered with pillows and books for whoever claims the spot for a leisurely afternoon.

A door could be heard closing through the beaded curtains that lead further into the rest of the home. Now that they're inside, Sirius removes his jumper. Folding it over his arm as he continues his solo tour of the room where he once again stops in front of the fireplace and picks up a frame. Two young girls sit on a grassy field surrounded by white blossoms. The older, blonde girl was sitting behind the younger redhead, braiding it in messy knots.

Lily's sister, he deduces.

Chatter increases in the other room, so he heads towards it, leaving his jumper on the arm of one of the sofas. Lily was hugging a petite woman, hair tied up in a tight bun on top of her head.

Blonde, just like Lily's sister, just like her father. She really is the only redhead in her family. Lily could easily be mistaken for a Prewett with her hair colouring. A Weasley at it, too, were it not for her green eyes.

That's a queer thing when it comes to Wizarding families. Eye colours, that is, especially those with Noble Blood as some call themselves. The Prewett's are differentiated from the Weasley’s by their rich brown eyes. A clear contrast from the Weasley's clear blues.

Although… On his travels, he came across a Prewett that married into the Weasley family. Depending on which one of their Magic manifests on their children will determine their colours. But there is no denying that their hair will be red.

As for Lily's and James', if they ever have children, he has a feeling that her genes will fight through Jame's blood.

As for himself, the Black family is famous for their storming greys. Unless paired with another noble family, they will always be grey.

He noticed Charlie enter the house after his wife, preferably having gone round the back after locking up the gate. He was holding a basket with some kind of red produce inside.

“And you must be Sirius!” He turned towards the bubbling voice beside him and had but a moment before he was captured in another tight hug. When let go, the sturdy arms that had wound up around him were now cradling his face. “My, but aren't you as handsome as James said!”

It happened so quickly that Sirius was left overwhelmed by the time he looked upon the woman, Lily's mother, who had the brightest green eyes he had ever seen. Even more so than that of her daughters’. It was not a joke when he thought that the sunlight reflecting off her eyes was blinding. If one could withstand the glare, he's sure they would be able to see their own reflection on them.

“Hullo,” he managed to greet with two hands partially squishing his cheeks, making it a bit difficult to speak. “You have lovely eyes.”

She beamed at him, wrinkles crowning said eyes as she brought him in for another hug. “Charming too!”

Sirius stepped back once he was released again, he will admit that he'd missed physical contact with all the professionalism he had to display on his travels. He felt the same warmth from earlier coiling inside him, making him feel like the very buns Lily had baked.

“Where are my manners! Margaret Evans, but please, call me Daisy.” She, Daisy, extends her hand. Sirius accepts it, then, in a very Sirius-fashion, brings it to his lips and gives it a small, gentle kiss.

“Very enchanted, Dame Marguerite.” he makes sure to accentuate his mother’s tongue, the r’s fluidly rolling. “A beautiful name, for a beautiful flower.”

Margaret, Daisy, lets out a laugh. Her unoccupied hand reaches towards his face as she gently pats his cheek with fondness. “And a total flirt, just as my Lily had said.”

He looks towards the couple who were busy setting up the table with cutlery with a raised brow, “I see I've been exposed.”

“All good things!” swears James, but Sirius notices the way the tip of his ears turn pink, as they always do when he's not being exactly truthful. They turn even more red at Sirius’ intense stare.

“And complaints—about how lonely he's been without Padfoot.” Adds Lily, “Skulking about the manors’ forested land as Prongs before he comes back inside, wrapping himself up in that invisibility cloak of his in front of the fireplace.”

James had gone completely red in the face, his hazel eyes pronounced even more by the flush over his tan skin. “I do not “skulk about”! Prongs needs his runs!”

Charlie returns to the table from where he had been washing the cherry tomatoes that were brought in from outside. Now, in a light yellow bowl, he sets them on the centre. Sirius nears the table at his gesture to the chair closest to the backyard doors. It's a comfortable size, so when he's joined by Daisy to his right, they have enough elbow space to reach for the breakfast Charlie had finished setting down while Lily and James were still conversing.

“And the cloak?” Lily asked, coming closer with a creamer, settling it in front of her mother.

Jame's face couldn't have turned more red, but it seemed like Lily's question could very well push for it to happen. “It's warm!”

Laughter encircled the breakfast table and Sirius would undoubtedly miss it once it's time for him to return to his duties. But for now, he enjoys this peaceful morning with his dear friends and their lovely family. And although he's content with the way his life is turning out, he still feels like there is something missing. Feels it in the deepest parts of his chest. And he won't know what it is, not until he stumbles across a young girl. One he's seen in passing through the corridors of a massive castle, always followed close by her brother who, with the exception of his curly hair, shares the same features as her.

He won't know what it is until he gazes down at the young girl’s eyes. The same deep blue eyes as a boy he once knew.

☆ミ

Thank you for making it to the end! ｖ(・ε・ｖ) I will upload this to my ao3 once it's completed ♡

[i-am-the-egg-to-rule-all-eggs]

I hear a sharp 3 knocks on my door. I spin around and pull out my Glock 23 and fire 3 quick shots into the door. A slump is heard on the other side, and muffled cursing. The bastards thought they could catch me like that. No. One doesn't outpizza the hut and not learn a few things along the way.

I grab my perfect pizza and suspend it on one hand as I quickly dash upstairs. Two men clad in bright red riot gear are waiting. I fire 2 more shots into their faces and spring up onto the wall as they, too, fall over dead. I spring past their bodies into my hallway. Dashing madly, I throw my gun into the face of another agent that pops out of the ceiling and dive into my room. I'm here for one thing and one thing only. I grab a blue pizza delivery bag marked with the Dominoes logo, and quickly slide my perfect pizza into the bag. I only have a second to catch my breath before the walls cave in and 4 riot-gear clad men charge into my room. Not to be deterred from my mission, I jump on one and rip of his head. I stare coldly into his panicked eyes as he screams in incomprehension. I throw his head like a baseball at another agent, putting a hole into his midsection, as I jump to the third agent. This one I use as a springboard as I jump out of the window, smashing his skull into the carpet, and leaving the final one to stare at the gory scene. I don't blame them for this. They couldn't know who they're fucking with.

I jump onto the helicopter that was unlucky enough to be dropping off four more guys and swing in through the side door. I rip off the metal door and throw it at the pilot within, sending him flying through the windshield. I curse under my breath. I hadn't flown in a helicopter with a broken windshield since searching for the magic tomatoes of Northumbria. I take the controls and lift away. I'm safe for now. They couldn't possibly know the location of my client.

The helicopter ride is smooth enough, if you don't count the squad of troopers they tried to hijack my copter with. I smile to myself as I hear their souls screaming in the 2 liter Pepsi bottles I found in the back. I almost feel bad for them, just drinking the stuff is hell enough for most. I hear the wind blow harder, and I know my destination is close.

I put down the copter in front of a beautiful Grecian estate. Green grass dotted with wildflowers stretches for acres, and neat hedges make a rough path to 2 parallel rows of columns. They lead to the front of the huge building where a short man-esque being is standing. He's a little squat dude, wearing a loud floral print shirt that clashes terribly with his bright red skin. He's got two coiled horns amidst messy jet-black hair. I've delivered for this guy a few times. He's a pretty nice guy, and he pays extremely well. I walk up to the estate, holding 2 soul-filled 2 liters and the pizza on my back. As I draw close I see he's drinking some sort of wine that smokes in the bottle. He snorts, and fixes me with squinted eyes, though with how scrunched up the guys face is, that could just be his normal stare. Its tricky to tell with this guy. He bellows out in a gravelly voice, "YER LATE!"

"Sorry," I say. "Ran into the usual trouble" I gesture the bottles. "Want something to drink?"

He ponders the bottles for a second, and shakes his head. "NAH. I GOT PLENTY O' WINE"

"Suit yourself. Now, payment?"

He snorts again, and waves his hand. Four duffel bags drop from the sky. I unzip one, revealing ebony black bars. I touch one, and it's freezing. "Alright, this'll do" I take of my bag, and slide the still-steaming pizza out from my bag. "Your pizza, sir. Made with only the freshest ingredients"

He takes a slice, and shoves it full into his face, munching loudly. He beaches loudly "AH, THA' HITS THE SPOT, THA' DOES" He takes the pizza. "ILL CONTACT TH' SAME WAY IF I WANT ANOTHER. NOW LEAVE" He bellows.

"If you don't mind, could you leave me a good review on the Dominoes-"

"YEAH, YEAH, DON' WORRY 'BOUT IT."

I leave, to head back to Dominoes HQ. As I land the copter on the tarmac, I open my Dominoes app. A new review pops up.

5 stars, from "Satan"

You’ve done it. You’ve created the perfect pizza. That was the day you learned that “No one outpizzas the hut” wasn’t a slogan… it was a warning.

[gobboguy]

Chapter 23: Veins of Shadows

Deep within the cold stone heart of Cairn Doom, Alden lay shackled in a dimly lit cell. His body, battered and bruised, bore the marks of a fierce struggle, and his clothes clung to him like a second skin, stained with both sweat and blood. The air was thick with the pungent odor of dampness and decay, and the distant echoes of Orcish laughter reverberated through the cold corridors.

A group of jeering Orcs, their eyes glinting with malice, crowded outside his cell bars. "You'll pay, Human," one spat, saliva flying in Alden's direction. "Your blood spill, just like our kin." Alden's lips curled into a defiant smile despite his pain. "Ah, Orcish eloquence," he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Truly, your words inspire terror in the hearts of all who hear them."

Just then, from the depths of the darkness, a guttural but strangely intelligent voice sliced through the Orcish banter. "Leave him. Now." The command, laced with an undercurrent of undeniable authority, silenced the Orcs, who exchanged uneasy glances before hastily retreating, leaving Alden alone in the gloom.

Emerging from the shadows like a specter, a figure materialized before him—a striking Orcess unlike any he had ever seen. Her lithe form moved with a sinuous grace, her slender frame belying the typical bulk of her kind. Her skin, the color of dull steel, wore Orcish robes of spun wool and what skin was exposed was inked with red paint, marking her as a creature of both power and mystery. Notably, unlike other Orc females, her figure was devoid of the usual roundness, her stomach flat and her movements agile and precise.

Alden's body ached as if every bruise and wound screamed out in protest. The mysterious Orcess, her crimson eyes as cold as the depths of the ocean, inspected him with a calculated detachment, ignoring his gasps of pain and pleas for mercy. He felt like a hunted animal beneath her scrutinizing gaze, his vulnerability laid bare.

Amidst his agony, Alden was lifted unceremoniously by the powerful grips of the Orc guards. Pain lanced through him, and he bit down on his lip to stifle a cry. The journey through Cairn Doom's labyrinthine halls was a blur of dim torchlight and harsh stone, each step a reminder of his captivity. Along the way, Alden saw scenes which made him gasp in terror; there were thousands of Orcs in this place and he beheld scenes of the Orcs gearing up. There were thousands and thousands of weapons and sets of armor and stables for thousands of the humongous horses the Orcs called their mounts.

They entered a vast throne room, the atmosphere heavy with foreboding. Red carpeting sprawled beneath their feet, lending a semblance of macabre luxury to the chamber. Sinister shadows danced across the walls, casting the scene in an eerie, flickering light.

At the heart of the room stood three figures, each more intimidating than the last. Arrowcatcher, his lone arm a testament to his resilience, exuded an aura of battle-hardened authority. Beside him, an Orc with a grotesquely corpulent gut displayed a dangerous gleam in his eyes, a silent promise of cruelty. And then there was the younger Orc, muscles bulging beneath his skin, his gaze sharp and unwavering.

Alden's breath caught in his throat as he realized the familiar faces before him, now distorted by the passage of time and the savagery of their surroundings. The very enemies he thought he had escaped stared back at him, their presence a chilling reminder of his perilous situation. It was in this moment, surrounded by shadows and enemies, that Alden knew his resolve would be tested like never before.

Amidst the dimness of the colossal chamber, the sounds of feasting echoed, a grotesque symphony of gluttony. The scent of pungent Orcish spices filled the air, mixing with the acrid tang of sweat and metal. The unmistakable noises of indulgence—slurps, smacks, and powerful belches—resonated through the room. Alden’s lip curled in disdain at the uncouth display of Orcish manners and appetites, repulsed by their lack of refinement.

Amidst the shadows, Alden's eyes strained to pierce the darkness, catching only glimpses of movement and the glimmer of eyes. He could discern a form seated upon a grand throne, shrouded in obsidian shadows, the details obscured. The sounds, however, were vivid, the unmistakable noises of a hearty feast—loud smacks, wet burps, and even the occasional crude fart—echoing through the chamber. His mind, tortured by the vivid imagination of what lay before him, conjured the image of Gelbeg, the Orc Lord, indulging in a feast most Orkly. It was a grotesque symphony, a macabre dance of indulgence in the heart of darkness. Alden’s grip on his resolve tightened; this encounter was not just with the Orcs but with the very essence of their savage ways, a confrontation that would test his mettle and steel his determination.

The enigmatic Orcess, her eyes glinting with a mix of scorn and calculation, circled Alden like a vulture eyeing its prey. Her voice cut through the oppressive silence, sharp as a blade. "You claim to serve Farfield, but your hands are stained with the blood of my people, Alden, Sword of the Forest. Your so-called righteousness is nothing more than a veil for your atrocities. You decimated Lord Gelbeg, and for what? To strengthen your pitiful kingdom, built upon the bones of my kin?"

Alden, despite his pain, straightened his back, defiance burning in his eyes. "We acted to protect our land, to safeguard our people. The actions we took were desperate measures for a kingdom besieged by foes on all sides. Farfield will endure."

The Orcess sneered, her laughter cutting through the air like a serrated blade. "Endure? Farfield is weak, a land of fragile alliances and crumbling defenses. Your actions have sealed your fate. Conquest is the only destiny your kingdom will know, and we, the Orcs, shall be the architects of your downfall."

In that moment, surrounded by the ominous darkness and the echoes of feasting, Alden realized the depth of the challenge before him. The very fabric of his beliefs and convictions was being tested, and the outcome of this confrontation would shape the fate of Farfield and all he held dear.

[malulls]

Just don't break the child

Manorian with chaorene baby

- Uncle Dorian.

- Da.

- Uncle Dorian.

- Da.

- Do-ri-an.

- Leave the child in peace! - Yrene Towers took her daughter from the hands of the king of Adarlan. - She can barely speak dad and mom. How do you expect her to say "Uncle Dorian"?

- I am the person Josie loves most, so it's only fair that she learns to speak my name first.

Chaol Westfall put his arms around his wife and kissed Josefin on her forehead.

- We should have chosen a less narcissistic godfather for you.

Dorian gave him a lazy smile.

- Considering that Aelin is her godmother, I think we can agree that I'm the least bad in this story.

Yrene rolled her eyes, though she was smiling.

- Are you sure you can take care of her? We won't be gone for long.

- You should have left minutes ago. Go ahead, we'll be fine.

- If Dorian does something wrong, I'll beat him myself.

The healer smiled at Manon as she handed her daughter back to the King.

- It comforts me to know that there is at least one responsible person in this room.

- I would tell you both to go fuck yourselves if I wasn't frightened of you.

Chaol slapped him on the head.

- Control your dirty mouth in the front of my child.

Yrene kissed Dorian on the cheek and squeezed the Witch Queen's shoulder.

- Thank you for taking care of her for us.

Then she and Chaol left the room, closing the door behind them. Dorian sat with Josie on the couch in front of the fireplace. They were in Yrene and Chaol's chambers, in an extremely comfortable room adjacent to their bedroom. The couch they sat on was in front of a large fireplace with two shelves covered with books on either side. The soft red carpet covering the room was filled with toys.

Dorian started making water animals to distract the baby on his lap. Josefin was the most adorable child the king knew. She had her mother's curly golden-brown hair and her father's chocolate-colored eyes, although she was too young for them to tell which of the two she looked like. She giggled every time she ran her little fingers over the dancing water in front of her.

The king turned to Manon and found her watching the wall with a frown.

- You are angry.

The witch looked up into his face.

- I'm not.

- Yes, you are. You're making the "Abraxos won't listen to me because he's rolling in the flowers" face.

She sighed, leaning her head back against the couch.

- I'm not mad. I just wish I was doing other things.

Ah.

- If that's the problem, witchling, there's no need to get annoyed. We'll have all night to do other things when Chaol and Yrene get back.

She gave a cruel smile as she heard the promise behind his words.

Josefin squealed and crushed a water butterfly between her soft hands, splashing a few drops on her face.

- Did you get tired of that so quickly? I think I'll read you a story.

Manon stood up in a second, placing herself between the bookshelf and Dorian.

- If you read the story of the Queen who makes ice again, I will throw you off the balcony.

- But she loves this book! Besides, the story is beautiful.

- Bullshit. You are the one who likes it and uses the child as an excuse. And this book doesn't make any sense, she has a talking snowman.

Interrupting what was to be a memorable discussion, knocks sounded on the large oak door of the room. Dorian took Josefin off his lap and settled her on the couch.

- And you have a flying reptile, why are you complaining about my snowman?

- Can you watch her while I answer the door?

Manon nodded, and he thought he saw an awkward expression in her golden eyes, but it quickly disappeared. Dorian found a nervous guard standing at the entrance to the room.

- What's the matter?

- Sorry to disturb you, Your Majesty. But the lords are requesting your presence.

He tried hard not to shout a curse. The lords of the old glass castle court, whom he unfortunately could not make disappear from Erilea's face, were a real torment. These men made a point of organizing several useless meetings at which they demanded his presence, claiming that the king was too young and inexperienced and needed their advice.

- Now?

- They said it's a matter of urgency.

- Of course, I wonder what the subject is this time. Perhaps the kind of soap I should use. - Dorian rolled his eyes.

He would order him to say that he was busy, but he knew that this would not help, and the injured in the story would be the young guard who would be bothered until he appeared with the king.

- Let them know I'll be there in a few minutes, please.

- Excuse me, Your Majesty - The guard left after a bow.

Dorian entered the room again, Josie was fiddling with her feet as if they were the most interesting thing in the world, babbling a series of unintelligible words. Manon was standing somewhat apart, looking at her as if she was waiting for the little girl to commit an attempt and throw herself off the couch. He hoped the queen wouldn't rip his guts out when he said he would leave them alone.

- Witchling?

Manon definitely looked relieved to see him, and it made him take a step back. Just in case.

- I need to go out.

- What?

- I won't be long, I promise. I just need a few minutes to send some lords to hell.

- And you will leave me alone with her? I will break this child.

She shifted her worried eyes to Josefin, who was still fiddling with her toes. Dorian returned to the couch.

- Would you prefer I call a maid?

The idea of requiring a human maid to look after a baby who couldn't even leave her seat by herself suddenly made any nervousness seem stupid. The witch let out a long sigh.

- No need. You may go.

The king nodded before disappearing out the door, and Josefin shifted her tiny brown eyes from her feet to the doorway.

- Da?

- He needs to leave. And you're going to be a good child and not get hurt. I don't want your mother to hate me or your father to think that I tried to turn you into dinner.

Children were fragile. Human children were even more fragile. She ran her eyes around the room. Apart from the fireplace, there was nowhere the child could hurt herself. Manon swore quietly, cursing Dorian for leaving her alone. Her nails accidentally slipped through her fingertips.

Josie laughed. She was staring at the witch's hand, and Manon quickly put away her iron nails. The little girl kept staring at her hand, as if she was waiting for something. Then Manon exposed her nails again. She laughed, and the witch assumed that if she wasn't crying, that was a good sign.

The queen stopped when her fingers became sore from flexing them, and Josefin had the audacity to tap her hand when nothing happened. Human children and their lack of sense of danger.

Abraxos let out a grunt from where he was watching the two on the balcony. She could have sworn he was laughing. Josie looked at him wide-eyed, and Manon thought that she had been frightened and would start to cry. Instead, the girl stretched out her little hands in the direction of the wyvern and began to try to get off the couch.

- You know, he could eat you in half of a bite if he wasn't so soft.

- He loves flowers. Maybe that's why he likes you so much, you always smell like those small yellow flowers your mother puts in your hair.

Abraxos growled as if the thought of eating a child terrified him. The queen sat down on the floor, near the balcony, so that Josie could see him. He lay down completely on the floor, so he was able to keep his head close to both of them. Josie began to run her tiny hands over his leather, still mumbling nonsense words. She was quite talkative for someone who couldn't talk.

Josefin continued in a long conversation, apparently with Abraxos since he was growling at her.

A wyvern talking to a baby.

By the Goddess, this was the most random and ridiculous situation Manon had ever been through.

At some point, the girl stopped talking to Abraxos and turned to the witch and started talking to her. Manon didn't know what to answer, as she couldn't understand a word.

Chaol and Yrene always spent long hours talking to their daughter, although she didn't quite understand how.

- I can't believe I've been through so much in a hundred years to not know what to do with a baby.

- Oh?

- Yes, and you can go through a lot in such a long time.

Josie let out a high-pitched scream as she held out her arms to the wyvern in front of them.

- Abraxos? I met him not long ago.

That sounded strange even to her ears. Her loyal wyvern seemed to have been with her forever. Without realizing it, Manon was telling the story of how the two had met, the things they had been through together, the first time Abraxos had flown with her. Most of them were stories that a child definitely shouldn't be hearing, but Josefin couldn't understand half of it, so the damage wasn't that bad. She lost sense of time as she talked, sitting there on the floor with a baby on her lap, until something behind her made the baby smile and wiggle her tiny arms.

- Da!

Manon turned and found Dorian leaning in the doorway with a completely stupid smile on his face.

- How long have you been there?

- You were telling an interesting story. I didn't mean to interrupt you.

He abstracted the annoyed look Manon threw in his direction and sat down next to them both to pick Josie up, but instead of jumping into his arms, she grabbed Manon's neck.

- Are you rejecting me? You're breaking my heart, Jo.

She ignored him completely, now distracted by the crown of stars shining on the Witch Queen's head.

- Won't you take this child away from me?

The witch would die before she would admit it, but she could practically feel her heart warming up.

- Why? She seems to enjoy staying with you.

Manon threw another angry look at Dorian, but he was busy looking at the child trying to take the crown off her head. She bent down so that Josie could pick it up, and when Dorian put it on her head, she squealed and clapped her hands together.

- What did the lords want?

The amused expression on Dorian's face disappeared immediately, and he hid his face in his hands.

- Can you believe they called me at this time to discuss carpets?

Manon didn't know whether to laugh or growl.

- What?

- Yes. According to them, the carpets in the salons were inappropriate and outdated. The carpets. Carpets.

She settled Josie on her lap, who looked like a little tyrant talking to herself with the crown adorning her curls.

- And you turned them to dust?

- Unfortunately, no. But perhaps, of course, their expensive shoes are accidentally frozen on the soles.

The smile on his face mirrored the witch's. Josefin laid her head on her shoulder and began to rub her face against the leather clothes.

- She is wanting to sleep.

This time she didn't protest when Dorian took her on his lap. It only took a few minutes before she was asleep in the king's arms.

- I thought children cried until their vocal cords burst when they were tired.

Dorian smiled as he placed the little girl on the bed and lay down beside her.

- A few months ago she did cry. And she could only sleep with her mother. Poor Yrene spent weeks exhausted. But now she is calmer. Come here.

Slowly, she lay down on the bed beside the baby, who was now sleeping peacefully, without any sign of the fuss of a moment ago.

- Was it hard? Staying with her?

Manon tried to ignore the sudden urge to run her hand through the short curls falling across Josefin's forehead.

- No. I thought it would be worse.

The silly smile returned to Dorian's face.

- If I could, I'd steal her for myself.

- So besides dogs, you love children?

- I love adorable things in general.

- Good for you then, since you need an heir.

The smile faded from his face.

- That's different.

She looked away from Josie to face him completely.

- Why?

- Because I have no idea how to take care of a child. It's not like I have any model. I don't think my mother ever really cared about me. And my father... - His hand instantly closed around his own neck. - I don't want to be like them. And I can't stand to hear anymore that I need an heir.

That exploded out of his mouth very suddenly. And there was something inside her that wanted to scream. Because she felt exactly the same way he did.

- I understand.

Apparently that wasn't enough, because his thoughts seemed to be far away and all Dorian did was shake his head. Then she walked around the bed and lay down beside him. This made the king look at her.

- I understand.

He put his arms around her and the witch rested her head on his shoulder.

- Do you have old, stuck-up witches who spend 24 hours a day telling you to have a child?

- They suggest it implicitly, but they're not stupid enough to say it to my face. What you said... I don't want to be like my grandmother, either.

There it was. What she was so afraid to admit.

- You know you're not like her. You never were. And you never could be.

- But I came close to being. And it took a damn war to stop it from happening. I spent years being a monster. And I was proud of it.

- You thought you were doing the right thing. That you were helping your people. I spent years not caring about what was happening to my people. People were dying, other countries were being enslaved, and I didn't see it. I didn't do anything.

- No, but you didn't help make things worse either.

Dorian was silent for so long that Manon turned her face to his. He was smiling.

- Are we going to spend the evening fighting to decide which of us is the most terrible?

- I don't think you're terrible.

- And I don't think you are.

- So yes, let's spend the evening arguing.

- Manon.

That caught her attention. He rarely called her by her name.

- You are not bad. And I don't think I'd be a bad mother.

She moved closer to him.

- I think you'd be a good father. You're good with kids.

- Maybe we can both be good parents then.

His voice had become a whisper for the last few words. As if he had made an effort to say them. A knot had formed in the witch's own throat, and it took her a while to get around to saying it.

- We?

Dorian pulled her close and lowered her mouth to his. It was a surprisingly soft kiss, with that thing between the two of them that hadn't existed at first, but was becoming stronger and stronger.

- We.

When they pulled away, Manon was smiling.

- We, princeling? Yrene hasn't even managed to marry us yet.

He laughed.

- I am sure that someday she will tie a lace around my head and give me to you as a present.

Before the two could continue their conversation, the door opened. Manon was off Dorian before Chaol could see and make a scene, and indeed, the lord made an entrance worthy of an overprotective fae.

- So, did you have fun?

Yrene scowled at Dorian before answering the question, as she took her daughter on her lap.

- Yes, but we would have had a lot more fun if your best friend hadn't been whining every five minutes about missing his daughter.

- Should we mention the scene you started when we went out without Josie for the first time, darling wife?

- I was far less dramatic than you, you idiot.

Chaol and Yrene left, smiling and saying goodnight, still teasing each other. The two had barely closed the door before Dorian pulled Manon onto his lap.

He pushed aside the locks of her silver hair to kiss the side of her neck. The witch turned on his lap.

- I think we have other things to do.

Dorian rested his forehead against hers.

- We have a conversation to finish first.

Manon pulled away to look into those sapphire blue eyes. She had barely figured out what he had admitted to in that conversation. And neither of them was ready...for that.

- Not yet.

She didn't need to say anything more for Dorian to understand. Then the king lay down on the bed and pulled Manon with him.

[lilacte]

#PegHawks2020

Pairings: Hawks x Reader

Summary: You peg Hawks. That's it. That's the plot.

Word Count: 2.1k+

Warnings: smut (18+), dom!reader, sub!hawks, pegging, sex toys, anal fingering, dirty talk, light bondage(?), edging, overstimulation, plot i guess (if you squint)

A/N: My first submission for @bnhabookclub's Bingo Event! Thank you to @honeytama and @dragonhrte for beta-reading my fic! Also huge thanks to my wife @royal-after-dark for helping me so much with my fic.

Taglist: @royal-after-dark @mrs-takami-keigo @keigod @shoutogepi @gr0vndz3ro @honeytama​

The first time Hawks met you, his heart hammered so loudly that it felt like it was going to burst in his chest. Your eyes gazed at him with such cold sharpness that he can't help but swallow the lump forming in his throat. You were (Y/N)(L/N), a Pro-Hero just like him. You regarded him with cold disposition and barely spared him a glance, not even a word spoken to him. 

Maybe that's what sparked his interest in you. 

The next time he saw you was at a high-end bar. You were in the V.I.P section, surrounded by what he assumed were your friends, sitting on the plush sofa while sipping on your drink as your eyes dragged around the dancefloor in boredom. And then your eyes met his, and Hawks felt his blood rushing to his groin when you eyed him up and down erotically. A few hours later, Hawks was pinned harshly against the wall as both of you reached your hotel room. Your lips against his neck, causing frenzy to seize his veins, your bright red lipstick staining his skin. The next day Hawks woke up in your hotel room without you beside him anymore.

You left your phone number on the nightstand, though.

Three months later, you started dating. It's been six months into the relationship when you brought up the idea of pegging. Hawks humored the idea, confident that he could do it.

He really, really wants to impress you.

That was why he was in his apartment right now, on all fours and naked, facing the mirror as you prod two lubed fingers in his hole. At first, it stung a bit, still unsure about the odd sensation he was feeling. Your fingers slide in, your movements slow at first to help him relax. 

"Do you feel alright, Hawks?" You ask, tone soft yet reserved.

"I can barely feel anything, babe. This is nothing I can't handle. Ah-"

Hawks jolts when he feels you push your fingers deep inside of him, hitting the right spot. A traitorous moan escapes his lips as your fingers teased his prostate.

"Oh? Are you sure? It sounded like you enjoyed that one, Hawks." Glancing at the mirror in front of him, Hawks meets your heated gaze, cheeks coloring with embarrassment as your lips twist in a smug grin.

"I-Is that the best you can do, babe?" Hawks exhales, voice starting to tremble as your fingers move faster inside of him. 

"You're taking my fingers so well, baby bird. Such a dirty little slut for me, hmm?" you taunt as you add in a third lubed finger in his hole, and Hawks involuntarily clenches around your fingers as you continue to pump inside of him, teasing his insides.

"So tight just for me. I can't wait to fuck you, Hawks." You murmur. Your free hand travels to the underside of his dick, knuckles ghosting his skin, and he melts at the feeling. His cock becomes uncomfortably hard between his thighs, and he whines, aching for you to give it attention.

"Ngh. Fuck-" Hawks shudders, arms gripping the carpet as your fingers spread inside of him, scissoring up and down, stretching him so much and sending jolts of tension throughout his body. 

"Do you think you're ready for my cock, pretty bird?" 

Hawks nods eagerly, and you gently withdraw your fingers from his hole, satisfied, and Hawks whines at the loss of your fingers. 

Hawks sits down properly on his knees, and you undress in front of him, unbuttoning your white blouse. Hawks admires your naked body, and you give him a small smirk as you go behind him.

"I'll tie you up now. Tell me if it hurts." You whisper in his ear, so softly that it sends tremors of pleasure tickling down his spine.

"That's easy stuff. I can handle it." 

Grabbing both his wrists, you place them behind him, tying them firmly with your white blouse. You stand up, putting the harness around your hips, and Hawks stares at your bright red, huge cock that hangs in front of it. 

Smiling sweetly at him, you say, "Come on, now. This cock isn't going to suck itself." 

He snickers, golden eyes staring back at you arrogantly.  

"Don't make me laugh, chickadee. This will be a piece of cake." 

Hawks tongue glides over your cock, from base to tip. He stares up into your eyes as he finally wraps his lips around your dick, cheeks hollowing as he sinks to take in your length, saliva pooling against his tongue and coating it. His head bobs up and down your cock, taking his time with it.

"Look at you, such a whore for mommy's cock, getting it nice and ready for that tight little hole of yours." You grab onto his blond strands harshly, and with a small smirk, you force him down deeper until he's gagging on your cock. 

"Keep your eyes on me, my pretty bird." His golden eyes stare up to you, and you can't help but purr in delight as unshed tears start to form in his eyes. His moans are muffled as you continue to guide him by the hair, soft choking sounds like music to your ears. 

"You look so good on your knees like that." You murmur, bucking your hips faster. Hawks can barely breathe, throat constricted around your dick, cheeks reddening as he chokes on your strap-on. With his hands tied behind him, he can't do anything but let you have your way with him. Strings of saliva spill from the corners of his mouth, dribbling down to his chest. 

After a few more minutes, you stop your thrusts, pulling him away from your cock, and Hawks can finally breathe, jaw burning as he sucks in as much air as possible. Your fingers cup his cheeks, tracing his wet lips with your thumb, admiring his reddened state.

"What an undignified look you have." You mock.

"Stand up and lay on the bed on your stomach." Hawks does what you tell him to eagerly, his face buried into the pillow. You kneel behind him, hands finding their way to his hips, and position him with his ass up in the air, adding a pillow to support his body. You position the tip of your large red dildo onto his already drenched hole and add more lube before you slowly slide your silicone cock into him.

"F-Fuck, that feels good." Hawks hisses, tugging at his restraints as you stretch his walls. 

You set a slow, steady pace as you fill him up.

"Look at you, pretty bird. Taking it so well already." You hum appreciatively, fingers digging deep into his skin as your hips rock against him, and his vermillion wings flutter excitedly at the comment.

Hawks bites into the pillow as your dick slides in and out of him, stirring his gummy walls and friction building up inside of him. You hover above Hawks, hand settling on either side of his head. His back arches as your cock prods at his prostate.

"You like me fucking you like this, Hawks? Tell mommy how much you like it." You inch close to him, your hot breath fanning his ear.

"Ngh! V-Very much. Give me more, mommy~" Hawks desperately pushes back against your cock, face flushed so red in arousal. You adjust your position, hitting that sweet spot over and over again, driving Hawks insanely.

"Fuck! P-Please, m-mommy. I'm going to come!" Anticipation builds in his lower belly, euphoria surging red hot in his veins—a few more thrusts into him, and his orgasm tears through him. Hawks pants harshly, face twisting with absolute bliss. 

You smack his ass harshly and Hawks yelps in response, lifting his head up to eye you through the mirror.

"W-what?" Hawks asks, eyes still hazy as his orgasm settles in his body. You let out a displeased sigh, running a hand through your hair as you eye Hawks' reflection.

"I never said you could come, Hawks," Your lips curl up in a wicked grin, eyes glinting maliciously before your hands grab onto his wings.

"Now, you need to be punished." Using his wings as support, you rock your hips into him, this time, at a much rougher pace.

You don't let Hawks cum.

Every time Hawks was close, you always pulled out, not giving him the sweet release he desperately wanted. By now, he was just a jumbled mess. The words spilling out of his mouth are a disarray of incoherencies. His choked sobs were like aphrodisiac to your ears and that you can't help but want to torture him more.

"Hnn… ah! Too… hng! Ah!! Deep, hnn. Ah!" Hawks gasps at the overwhelming sensation, ragged breaths leaving his lips as you slam into him mercilessly. His body feels achingly sore, yet the pleasure is so overwhelmingly powerful that he can't help but beg for more.

"You were all talk, baby. Now you can't even say a word. Who knew you liked to be fucked like this? What would others think about you when they found out, hmm?" You snicker condescendingly.

It was all too much. It was so good it hurt.

"Too much! I want to cum, mommy! Please let me cum! I'll be your good little fuck hole from now on!" Hawks cries out, tears streaming down his cheeks and saliva dribbling down his chin. His hands pull at the makeshift restraints, itching to grab onto something as his body jerks from your relentless thrusts.

"Beg for it like the whore you are then." You purr, burying yourself into him as deep as you can, your pace unrelenting. Hawks jaw slacks open, breathless moans escaping his mouth, tongue lolling out of his face, mind going haywire as you hit the right spots inside him. His neglected cock aches between his legs, loads of his pre-cum leaking out. With all of his might, Hawks breaks free from the makeshift handcuffs, the fabric ripping away, his hands immediately flying in front of him to grasp the sheets.

Your arms leave their hold on his wings, one hand snaking around his waist and the other wrapping around the base of his cock. His cock twitches in your grasp, and he gasps, eyes rolling the back of his head as you pump him up and down, circling his tip, and fucking him from behind.

Everything was so overwhelmingly good and Hawks can barely breathe.

"Let me hear your scream, my pretty bird." 

"Ah, ngh! So… good! I'm a whore for your cock! Mommy's cock is so good! Mommy!" Hawks cries out breathlessly, his mind is blank from the numbing pleasure, all rational thoughts leaving his head.

You let out a chuckle, deciding that you've tortured Hawks long enough. Your hips rut into him at a faster pace, your hand wrapped around his shaft, doing the same.

"Come for me then, pretty bird." 

A pleased guttural moan escapes Hawks' lips as he finally comes, body trembling as rivulets of his seed drips down his cock and in your hands and on the bedsheets. Hawks lifts his head, meeting your heated stare through the mirror, and he gives you a dazed grin. Face so flushed with the trails of tears running down his face and viscous strings of saliva running down his chin.

His body trembles from his orgasm, wings twitching with delight, and before long, his body goes limp in your arms. 

"Hawks?" you question, shaking him slightly in your arms. When he doesn't move, you release your hold on Hawks, setting him down onto the mattress face first. You grip onto his hips softly as you pull your cock out from his used hole. You remove the harness, placing it down on the floor. You leave the room and come back moments later with a damp cloth and new clothes. You let out a sigh as you survey Hawks' worn-out features. 

"I think I was too rough on you. Sorry." You whisper as you clean him up.

Before you leave Hawks' apartment, you give him a chaste kiss on the cheeks and cover his body with a blanket.

.

The next day Hawks arrived at a Hero meeting, limping so badly and so very achingly sore. When he entered the room, everyone saw how the winged-hero staggered, intrigued at what happened to him.

"What… happened to you, Hawks?" Endeavor asks, tone cold with a hint of curiosity.

"Had a... nasty fight… with a villain." Hawks lamely replies to which Endeavour simply nods, believing it before changing the subject to the meeting. Hawks looks around the room and spots you talking to Miruko.

Feeling his eyes linger on you, you turn to look at him, a sly smirk graces your lips as you eyed him up and down before flashing him a wink.

Hawks legs gave in at that moment.

[missymurphy1985]

The Premiere

The Premiere of Peaky Blinders, Series 6. You've had a secret lust for your co-star for the last 10 years, would this be your last chance to finally get your way with him?

This was a request from @noctvrnalmoth

Taglist - @queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0 @being-worthy @janelongxox

Lights flashing, cameras clicking, paparazzi calling your name left right and centre... God you hated premieres. But you plastered your game face on and gave the what they wanted like the good little actress you were. Series 6 of Peaky Blinders was premiering in Broad Street, Birmingham, appropriate as the series was based in the city - it felt right that that's where the final premiere should be.

You heard the crowd of fans behind you suddenly go wild as a car pulled up to the red carpet and the man himself stepped out of it. Your breath caught in your throat as you suddenly remembered the cameras were on you, and you quickly switched your game face back on. You couldn't hide the cheesy grin though, as Cillian Murphy stood smiling for the cameras. He made his way to the group of fans be happily signed a few autographs and took a few selfies with them. Thanking each of them for coming out, he waved and made his way over to you.

"Hey Ada," he smiled in his Brummie accent, knowing it made you laugh when he called you by your character's name.

"Tommy Shelby has arrived I see, did you leave Cillian in the hotel room?" He snaked an arm over your shoulder and you posed for more pictures together. Rumours had abounded for the last ten years of a romance behind the scenes between you, but none of them were true. You were good friends, that was all, no matter how much more you wanted.

"He was cramping my style Ada, can't have that at a premiere can we?" You giggled as he squeezed your shoulder, before reverting back to his Irish accent. "Reckon they've got enough photos, it's fucking brass knuckles out here!" He led you both into the hall where a waiter stood with a tray of champagne glasses. He took two and handed one to you. Clinking your glasses together in a toast.

"Here's to the end," he smiled, a touch of sadness in his eyes.

"It's been one hell of a ride though Cill, we've had a blast haven't we?"

"That we have y/n, that we have. Let's go cringe watching ourselves on camera, yeah?"

"Let the clenching begin!" You linked an arm with his and made your way into the auditorium together to the waiting interviewers.

Sitting on a chair each, the two of you glanced at each other and smiled. Both of you hated these promo interviews at premieres but at least you were doing this one together. Answering the questions as professionally as possible, the interviewer suddenly changed the topic to a more, personal, one.

"You must have seen the rumours flying around about the two of you in recent years?"

Cillian shrugged as you tried to hide your blush with a hand, pretending to laugh.

"There will always be rumours like that when co-stars of the opposite sex have chemistry onscreen - we've learned to let it go." Cillian always had an answer for it.

"It's a weird one though, I mean, I play his sister, you'd think the rumours would be about you and Tash, or Annabelle!" You smiled, your eyes meeting Cillian's. Did he just glance down at your cleavage?

"Tumblr has gone WILD about the two of you, fan made stories about you making out in secret onset, sneaking off together? Clear it up for us now - is there any truth to them?" The interviewer probed, hoping for some kind of sexy exclusive. Cillian's famous eyebrow raise quickly followed.

"If there was, we wouldn't admit it would we? The whole point of 'sneaking around' would mean it was a secret, wouldn't it? Be pointless to ruin the illusion now.." he smirked. The interviewer was stunned. So were you - you'd never done anything of the sort.. what was he doing? The papers would go wild with this tomorrow! You hid your face in your hands and snorted. He wasn't having the upper hand in this.

"He wouldn't stand a chance anyway." You smirked.

"Is that so y/n?" He turned to look at you. "These blue eyes didn't make you weak at the knees when we were filming? The strong jawline not having the Tommy Shelby effect?" Those blue eyes were staring you down now, you had no words. Just then the bell rang to signal the end of interviews - the premiere of the new series was about to begin in the auditorium. The interviewer was still slightly agog - what exactly had he just witnessed here?

"That was amazing wasn't it? They did an incredible job editing it all, just brilliant!" You gushed as you and Natasha left the auditorium.

"Not bad at all!! I'm gutted we won't be filming together again though y/n.." she hugged you tight. "And I'm sure Cillian will miss you too." She smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh god don't you start, those rumours have been plaguing me for years!! We're just friends Tash!" She nodded, still smirking, and glanced behind you, seeing Cillian making his way over.

"I'll see you at the party, yeah?" She made her way to the casino next door where the after-party was being held.

Two strong hands clipped your waistline making you jump, nearly spilling your champagne.

"Too easy y/n," Cillian chuckled.

"Asshole," you laughed, slapping his arm playfully. He smiled and, arm over your shoulder again, he walked with you to the casino.

"I'm not staying long y/n, so I'll say it now yeah?" He ordered the two of you a drink at the bar and turned to face you. The loud music drowning out most of the noise. You couldn't hear him very well.

"What?"

"I said, I'm not staying long y/n! I need to tell you something." Louder now, bending down to talk into your ear. Your drinks arrived and you made your way to a slightly quieter corner.

"Should I be worried Cill?"

"Maybe.." your breath caught again. "See, you know those rumours? The ones about us basically fucking behind the scenes?" Your cheeks burned.

"Oh those? Um.. yeah.. what about them?" He cleared his throat, bending to whisper loudly in your ear.

"Didn't you ever wish they were true?" You pulled back. The fuck did he just say?

"What?!" You nearly dropped your drink from the sudden movement.

"Just once, didn't you ever just wonder what could've happened?" His blue eyes so dark, looking right into yours.

"Listen, I'm not asking for a relationship, god knows neither of us need that right now, but this is the last time I'm gonna get this opportunity before we part ways for good. Meet me on floor 7 in 15 minutes. Room 712. If you don't come, I'll know the answer. If you do... Well..." He squeezed your hip, downed his drink and walked away. You stood in shock for a minute, collecting your thoughts. Okay, so he was right about one thing - neither of you were interested in a relationship. This would be a one time thing, no strings attached, which suited you down to the ground.. yes you found him impossibly attractive, but you both just came out of very high profile serious relationships... Maybe a quick fling wasn't such a bad idea? Get it out your systems, move on... You downed your own drink and left the party. What room was it again....

Room 712. The door was slightly ajar. You checked your watch - 18 minutes. You knew he was a stickler for timekeeping but you couldn't resist being a little late. Without knocking, you pushed the door open to find an empty room. Shit... Being late wasn't such a good idea now... Quickly scanning the room, you saw the ensuite door emitting steam from it. He's in the shower... This could work... Opening the door you saw his outline through the shower door, rinsing his hair under the hot water. You quickly slipped your dress to the floor, along with your underwear, and slowly eased yourself into the shower with him, quietly. You snaked your hands over his firm waist and he jumped, turning to face you, wiping water and soap out of his eyes.

"Too easy, Cill." He composed himself and smiled.

"So you did come then?"

"Well, not yet, but I'm hoping you could help with that?" You smirked, and looked down to see his erection already forming.

"Wanna let me get out first?"

"Nope, no need. There's plenty of room in here..." You sank to your knees and took him into your mouth.

"Ah... Fuck me..." He gasped as you sucked him to full erection.

"Now now, Mr Murphy, we'll get to that part soon enough..." Taking him back in, your tongue swirling around the tip, teeth gently scraping the underside of his cock. Sinking his head down, and backing into the shower wall, allowing the water to cascade over your back, he watched as you expertly sucked him, groaning into his shaft and cupping his balls lightly, giving them a sharp tug now and again. He couldn't take much more and lifted you to your feet.

"I'm not finishing in your mouth y/n.. I have a much better destination for it..." He knew you were on birth control, you'd spoken about it before when you were both going through yours respective breakups. Both of you also getting your checks done after your partners had cheated on you. All clean and ready to go.

Moving you against the wall of the shower, he angled the water away slightly, pressing his lips to yours. Snaking a hand down between your legs he was impressed to find you already wet for him. Smiling against your lips, he slowly inserted a finger deep inside, causing your hips to buck against him.

"Yes... Cillian yes..." Pushing a second finger in, he tipped them up and towards him slightly, catching hold of that sweet spot inside. You jumped again.

"Too easy y/n..." You couldn't help your hips rocking against his fingers, groaning deeply as he fucked you with them, picking up the pace. Your orgasm built quickly and he felt your walls clenching, but he quickly removed them and lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, he pushed his hard length into you. Your mouth opened wide with a loud groan as it hit that magical spot on the first thrust, and you screamed his name as your orgasm finally hit, Cillian pounding into you as you called his name. You just prayed the room next door was empty...

He tangled his hands into your hair as he continued thrusting up into you, your nails were clawing his shoulders as you moaned loudly - a second release quickly building.

"Need to move, my legs are killing me!" He groaned into your neck, and begrudgingly lifted you off him, keeping your legs round his waist as he turned the shower off and carried you into the main room. Sitting in the chair, he sat you back on his lap, a leg either side of him

"Want me to ride you Cill?" He nodded as you ground your hips against him, not taking him inside you just yet. If this was the only chance you had to do this, you were making it last as long as possible.

"Fuck.. don't tease me y/n..."

"Want me to ride that big cock of yours Cillian? Bounce up and down, back and forth, round and round.." your hips mimicking your words making him gasp. Your mouth teasing his now, tongue tracing his lips. He kept moving to kiss you fully but you kept pulling back.

"Jesus y/n..." You sank down onto him, taking him inside you. Riding him hard, your second orgasm burning inside desperate for release. He pushed you back slightly and moved your fingers down to your own clit. "Rub it... Wanna watch you..." You happily complied, head thrown back in pure ecstacy as you rode both him and your fingers to your orgasm. Shuddering with the release, feeling your juices coat him, he picked you up again and lay you down on the double bed, relentlessly pounding into you now while you clutched at his back, nails surely drawing blood now. He was like a man possessed, harder than he'd ever been before.

"That's it... That's it... Fuck... Cillian!" You were screaming his name as he grunted against your neck.

"Gonna cum y/n... Fuck..." With a loud groan followed by your name he came hard, filling you completely as a third orgasm took you along with him. Pulling out slowly, catching his breath, he remained on top of you.

"My shoulders are fucking shredded y/n..." He laughed, feeling the sting from where your nails had scratched him.

"Sorry... You were just too good..." You breathed, still coming down from your high. He rolled onto his back and pulled you into his arms. You lay there silently for a while, playing with his chest hair.

"That was worth the wait.." he smiled and kissed the top of your head. All you could do was nod, words suddenly becoming impossible. You'd never been fucked that good before in your life.

"Let's make a deal," he tilted your face up to look at him, gently leaning down to kiss your lips. "If we work together again in the future, and we're both single, we do this again. What do you say?" You smiled. You were worried for a second he was going to profess his undying love for you - definitely not what you wanted from this.

"Deal. Hey, there might be a role for me in the movie yet," you winked, biting your lip. He smirked down at you and rested his head back on the pillow.

"Can't wait." You sat up to get ready to leave, you both knew you couldn't stay. One of you had to go back to the party so as not to arouse too much suspicion.

"This was fun, right? And we're okay?"

"Yes, and yes. All good. Stay in touch? No matter what?" He watched you get dressed and fix your hair, reapplying your lipstick.

"Definitely." You leaned over him to steal a final kiss, and headed out the door smiling, both of you silently praying Ada had a place in the movie, and vowing to remain single for the foreseeable future.

[carmeninnocte]

A Dragon’s Den - Chapter 1

!YANDERE! !FEMALE READER!

This goes darker as the chapters fly by, i won’t be specific so please be warned. Minors DNI!

The Beloved Heir

You groaned, head pounding as you tried to turn to your side for a more comfortable spot.

I guess father finally bought some furs for winter. You thought. Burying yourself in the fabrics, a faint smile appeared in your sleeping face which made him raise his eyebrows.

“Get up.” He stated.

Instantly, your body reacted negatively. You felt chills running down your skin, like a snake had slithered up your shoulders. You shot up. The translucent red curtain is the first thing yours eyes landed on.

Wide eyed and alert like an irate cat you backed away, feeling the wall behind your back. You gazed at his silhouette,  His form always distinguishable - the fur coat of a white wolf had always been present in his broad shoulders, paired with the multiple fangs used as an accessory.

Trying to swallow the fear welling up inside your stomach. You immediately kneeled, head down low.

“G-Glory to the Dragon Empire...” You spoke, voice raspy. Most likely from all the smoke you inhaled involuntarily last moon.

You hear him click his tongue, footsteps circling around the bed you currently kneeled on. Not daring to meet his eyes, everyone knew the consequences and you weren’t an exception.

“Another one of those huh...?” His gruff voice sent a wave of shivers down your bones. “Lock her up with the others,”

“Right away, Emperor” You heard another voice chimed in, before feeling your whole body lift up in the air.

“What the?!”

“Please refrain from talking,”

You tilt your head to the side, alarmed. A man stood still in his position finger held upwards with a pair of eyeglasses present in his face. “Those who are chosen as the Emperor’s Concubine are to remain silent.”

Concubine?

The rumors held true, whispers of the merchants outside of the isolated town always mentioned it. A dragon in search for a human bride, but who would ever guess that it was the young emperor himself?

You remained silent and hadn’t peeped a sound as the Knight carried you through the air, The intricate gold patterns complimented it’s marble pillars, accompanied by the crimson red carpet that reminded you of that night. A golden dragon imbued in every door you passed.

The castle, in which you assumed it to be. Is too different from your home - it was simply too mesmerizing. Yet, it lacked the comfortable feeling that you always felt -  like you were wrapped in a warm blanket.

The knight stopped at a large door. Nervous, you lightly bit at your lip, fumbling with your fingers as it opened.

“Ah, Sir Iida.” A woman with green hair greeted, the strands reminded you of forest vines. She wore a white dress which is much simpler than what you wore, yet she shone with brilliant elegance - her presence making the room feel a lot warmer.

“Good Day, Lady Shiozaki.” He bowed, “This is Lady (L/n) the daughter of the Chieftan of Sal Ven” he set you down.

You simply bowed, bending your knees and clicked your heels. “I greet her lady”

“What an interesting greeting” Shiozaki smiled, “Well then, I am Ibara Shiozaki of the Emeraldus clan. I greet her lady as well”

*Click!*

You felt a cold metal attach itself to your wrist, Which made yours eyes widen. A winged bracelet is secured with 3 gems present, it looked beautiful yet you realized what significance has.

“I’ll be going now, My job has been finished. I wish both ladies a good day” Iida voiced before walking out of the room, Your eyes remained at your bracelet.

“That bracelet is magic imbued, It’s a locator. It show where you are at all times, a certain knight is assigned to monitor your location, I suggest to refrain from taking it off unless you don’t mind only having 4 fingers”

“A-Ah... I see...”

You were flabbergasted, Shiozaki seemed to be so calm despite her situation.

“If you are wondering, His Majesty didn’t kidnap me, I was one of his marriage candidates and had been turned into a concubine. The current empress is His Majesty’s original marriage partner.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, The Harem system....

Sal Ven did not support the system in the slightest, for a large empire as the Dragon Empire. The Harem System is implemented to ensure a perfect heir for the empire, Though it is recently enforced after Katsuki Bakugou himself seated the throne.

“Why would he need to kidnap human brides if he has concubines already?” You asked, Dragons after all are known for their prideful nature. They refused to mingle even with the elves who were just below them in terms of power, they were never short of anything. They prioritized their high military authority, had large wizards working for them and their lands were so abundant it is never lacking supplies.

“Ah, You see....All of us are infertile” She mentions with a light smile on her face.

“You are all WHAT now?!”  

You cover your mouth on instinct, “A-Apologies...”

“None taken, It is surprising news.”

“E-even you...?”

“Even me.” She replied.

________________________________________________

“Izuku! Izuku!” Ochaco shouted, Hair falling over her face. “Sal Ven! My hometown!”

“We heard the news Uraraka, Condolences to your fallen loved ones” Shouto said giving her a comforting pat in the back.

“N-No...That’s not it! The Chieftan’s daughter has been kidnapped by the emperor himself!”

The guild hall became silent at the news, everyone halted whatever they were doing and instantly whipped their heads towards her direction.

“What?!”

“Emperor himself? Wait...You mean him?” Izuku dropped his pen and walked hastily towards Uraraka, in which she hurriedly nodded in return. “5 survivors had saw the whole ordeal one of them are my friends so the message is trustworthy and even then there were dragon’s energy filled everywhere some even latched on them.”

“This is a problem.” Shouto chimed in, “3 Villages were also ransacked in my reports. “

“We will report our findings towards the Ministry”

“Gran Torino!” The members quickly bowed, “This will become a continental problem if he continues” Gran Torino continued, “Has Asui and Sero arrived yet?”

“Not yet sir, they’re still inside Cal District the last time I got in touch with them” Shouto answered.

“We shall wait until they arrive for further planning, Who knows what lies ahead for the Chieftan’s Daughter and all the others, Inside town districts is a free for all. We can’t really apprehend whose on top of the food chain but we can protect what he can’t reach” Gran Torino said

Everyone nodded, Ochaco looked down faintly. (Y/n)……

[where-fantasy-meets-reality]

A Twist of Fate

(GIF not mine) 

W/C: 2.1K

Warnings: Fluffy overload  

A/N: So, this is my first ever posting any kind of writing. I have written before but I have never had the courage to post anything. But, @mrskenobi19​ and some other friends gave me the courage to put this out there. I own nothing, I was just having fun. Hope you all enjoy 😃

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“....Ugh, crap….”

The rain was now coming down in a heavy downpour, like someone had turned on a shower head with you standing under it, as you made your way through the slightly crowded city sidewalk. The dark sky rumbled as you noticed the clouds roll across it.

Most people had taken cover once the storm had started, but not you. Seeing as you had your umbrella with you, you decided to plow through it.

At the time that had seemed like a good idea, after all, that is why you took the umbrella with you when you looked at the forecast this morning; that is until the wind picked up.

Now the rain was actually flying at you. The bottom of your pants were soaking wet and the water dripped off your umbrella onto your hands, soaking the cuffs of your rain jacket. Your shoes were starting to make that squishy sound from trudging through the puddles on the sidewalk as you maneuvered your way through the crowd of people who had decided to brave the storm like you.

Why hadn’t you worn your rain boots again?

“...Because it wasn’t supposed to be this bad…..just a light rain the weatherman had said...”

You huffed frustratedly under your breath, answering your own question.

The wind was blowing your now damp hair across your face, making it even more challenging to see.

Trying to secure your umbrella tightly to you in a one handed grip, you used your other hand to now brush the hair that the wind kept blowing out of your face.

But just as you let go, a surge of wind came rolling behind you, threatening to knock you off your feet.

While you had managed to catch your balance, your umbrella had not fared so well. The strong gust of wind had blown it inside out.

“Prefect!” You hissed as you stood in the middle of the now empty sidewalk, fighting with the broken umbrella.

Whatever little part of you had been dry was now absolutely soaked. The rain was falling down through your hair, down your face, to your eyes, blurring your vision.

The faster you tried to fix the umbrella and be on your way, the more it seemed to jam.

And all of this for a cup of coffee.

You were so focused on your umbrella that you didn’t notice when the rain seemed to stop falling on you. Looking up, you realized there was a large umbrella covering you.

“Hello there.”

You looked up to notice that a man was now standing over you, as you were slightly crouched down, still trying to fix your umbrella.

His voice had a wonderful accent to it. English? Or was it Scottish? His thick auburn hair seemed to be blowing in the wind as much as yours had been despite its short length. His beard was neatly groomed. But his eyes, his eyes were really what caught your attention. They were the prettiest blue you had ever seen, almost like the blue of the ocean on a summer's day. They really stood out against the dark gray sky that framed him. His navy sweater and grey peacoat certainly helped enhance his looks.

You regretted wearing your sweatpants.

“I’m sorry, but I saw you struggling and I was wondering if I might be able to help?”

How long had you been staring at him? His soft smile and his head nod as he gestured toward your broken umbrella snapped you back to reality.

“Ah….Yeah….I think it’s broken, a huge gust of wind knocked it back and I can’t seem to fix it.”

His expression turned to a slight frown as his brows furrowed.

“...Oh dear….Well, that's dreadful...I’m terribly sorry…..”

Was he staring at you too? Your eyes had locked with his for a brief second and it seemed as if the whole world had stopped spinning. It didn’t matter that you were both standing in the middle of the city sidewalk in the pouring rain; there was only him.

“....Well, are you going somewhere close by? I’d be happy to escort you. I had originally approached, hoping I could be of service. But, if not then the least I could do is see that you get to your destination as dry as possible.”

“Who was this man?” You thought to yourself. How lucky could you be that not only was this stranger good looking, but that he was also kind and helpful.

For the first time, you smiled. “Are you sure, you don’t have to, I don’t want to impose on you.”

You really didn’t. Plus, you were only going three doors down from where you stood and it’s not like it would matter if you got any more wet than you already were.

His smile was warm and genuine. “It’s no trouble at all. In fact, I offered.” Extending his arm out toward you, his eyes seemed to speak more words to you than he did. “Where can I take you too?”

Sheepishly, you took his arm. “...It’s just a few doors down, I was originally heading to that cafe over there.” You point to the building with a red door.

His eyes closed momentarily as his mouth curled into a side smile. “Well….what a coincidence, I am too.”  

Sticking his umbrella into his elbow, he now held his free hand out toward you. “I’m Ben by the way.”

Chuckling, you shook his hand. “Y/N”

Starting the walk toward the cafe, you noticed that he made it a point to keep pace with you and make sure that you both were actually able to share the umbrella. Clearly your escort was a gentleman.

Approaching the red door, he unlinked arms with you, moved to the side and held it open. “After you my dear.”

Blushing with a smile, you didn’t say anything as you stepped over the threshold.

Why couldn’t you stop smiling?

As you heard the door close behind you, you turned to find him shaking his umbrella off on the carpet.

As the two of you approached the counter, you turned to him. “Allow me to buy you a coffee, as a thank you.”

He shook his head as he shrugged his shoulders. “No, that’s not necessary, I was glad to be a help.”

“I know, but I insist. It’s the least I can do.” You annunciated the word “I” as you echoed the phrase he had said to you on the street corner.

He chuckled, a deep throaty sound; and it made your stomach flutter. “Okay, okay….you win this round.”

You noticed he said “this round.” Would there be another “round”?....The more you looked at this stranger with kind eyes and a warm smile, you did find yourself hoping that there would be another “round.”

After placing the order, the two of you stood off to the side waiting.

“So….what brings you out to a cafe in the middle of a rain storm.”

His eyes seem to light up. “I had planned on meeting some friends here. Well, I say friends but they’re more like my younger brother and sister; I’ve known them both for ages.”

His eyes lingered on you as if he was memorizing your face. “....And how about you?”

You laughed nervously. “Sadly, I am just a coffee addict. I thought I could make it here and back in time before the rain got too bad.”

His playful smile caused you to mirror his expression. “Ah, I see.”

The sound of the barista calling your name out broke the bubble that you two seemed to think you were in.

Moving toward the counter, the two of you grabbed your respective coffees.

Now what? The two of you were looking awkwardly at one another. It was as if you two wanted to say so much but at the same time you both said nothing.

Your eyes darted to the floor nervously as you tried to think of something to say

The sound of him clearing his throat caused you to look back up at him expectantly.

“.....if you aren’t doing anything you’re more than welcome to join me. My friends are hardly ever on time for anything and I’d love some company while I wait.”

He turned to the side and pointed at one of the free tables under the large windows.

Your wide smile creeped over your face. “I’d like that….thank you.”

The two of you sat down at one of the tables he had originally pointed to, but not before he pulled your chair out for you.

It didn’t matter that you were absolutely drenched and uncomfortable in your clothes. Or that you had left the television on in your apartment thinking that you would only be gone for five minutes. You could only focus on Ben.

The conversation flowed easily between you two. He was a history teacher down at the local high school and you had always loved history. Additionally, the more you two talked, the more you seemed to have similar interests in all the same areas. How many other men had you met that could enthusiastically talk about the finer points of movie musicals with the same enthusiasm that they could talk about serious dramas? Food, music, books, current events...the topics were limitless. The man even went from quoting Shakespeare to Spider-Man in just two sentences.

All of it made you not only laugh, but your walls slowly came down for this charming and intelligent man. You had completely lost all track of time to the point where you hadn't noticed that it stopped raining.

“So, do you come here often?” You asked him.

“I do. I usually stop in on my way to or home from work….Sometimes both depending on how the day went.” He chuckled.

“Oh, I get that.”

The sound of his cell phone buzzing on the table caught both of your attention.

“I’m sorry, excuse me.” He said picking up the phone and reading the text.

“......Huh…..Typical….” He smiled as he shook his head slightly back and forth.

You gave him a raised eyebrow look, asking a silent question.

“Well….it seems Anakin and Ahsoka are so late that they would rather we catch up for dinner instead….” He chuckled as he put the phone down. “Why am I not surprised?” He said looking back at you.

You looked at your watch. Wait….what? Dinner?! How late was it? You looked out the window. When had it stopped raining? How enchanted by this stranger were you? You needed to move along before you bored him to death.

Brushing your hair behind your hair, you stood up. “Well I should probably get going, I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

Standing, he gave you another one of his infectious smiles. “It was a pleasure. I enjoyed your company very much. It was lovely to meet you Y/N.” He stuck out his hand once again for a handshake.

Smiling, you shook his hand. “It was lovely meeting you too Ben.”

As you turned and headed for the door you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your stomach that you could possibly never see this charming and interesting stranger again. Before you had any idea of what you were actually doing, you stopped. Running with the surge of courage you had before you thought too much about it. Turning on your heel, you casually looked at him.

“Maybe you could lend me your umbrella again sometime?”

His glazed eyes that had been watching you walk away cleared as he blinked rapidly at you, taking your words in. The thoughts he had been lost in would never become a reality.

“I would like that very much.” He gave you that smile again.

You tilted your head to the side, giving him a thoughtful expression. “I wonder if it’s supposed to rain again tomorrow?”

The glee in his blue eyes was unmistakable as he understood your hidden question. “...You know, I believe it is….Around 3, actually I think the forecast said…”

“ 3’oclock huh…..well…..I may just have to bring my broken umbrella to get a coffee in hopes that a kind stranger helps me out again.”

“....Hmmmm that does sound like a twist of fate….perhaps I’ll have to stop in for a coffee myself after school, see if anyone needs help with their umbrellas…”

With a polite head nod, you slowly backed towards the door. “Enjoy the rest of your evening Ben.”

He raised his coffee towards you. “You as well Y/N.”

As you walked down the bustling sidewalk, the sunshine was now shining across your face, drying your damp clothing. You sighed happily as you replayed your afternoon with Ben. You really liked him. I mean, what wasn’t there to like? He was kind, polite, funny, charming…..and not to mention beautiful…...a twist of fate indeed.

Waiting till tomorrow at 3 would be practically impossible, but the prospect of seeing Ben again would make it all worth it.

[flowers-of-io]

for one-word prompts: 32?

//FREEHOLD, MERIDIAN BAY, MARS

//CITY AGE

The building is still standing—a miracle, Elsie thinks, as she weaves her way between piles of rubble. Broken glass crunches under her boots. There is not one window left whole and the wind moves freely across the space, bringing in clouds of red martian dust that dances in the air and settles on every surface in a thick layer. Her clothes are all dirty-copper already, and she can taste it grinding in her mouth.

She can barely make out the shapes of what once had to be expensive credenzas and fainting couches, their rusted skeletons peeking out of the flood of sand. Funny how she thought she knew these rooms well enough to navigate them with her eyes shut, and now even making out the door, indiscernible from the rest of the dirty wall, turns out to be a challenge. Her hands slide across the surface leaving long marks in the layer of dust, come across a crevice, wedge in, and pull.

The corridor. It is dark, much cleaner for the sake of being windowless, and does not even appear to have been particularly looted; a chipped porcelain vase still stands on a decaying corner table, and a set of bright blue optics gazes back at her from a dirty mirror. All doors are in place, too—and suddenly Elsie feels her heart in her throat when she looks past her mother’s chambers and in the direction of the north wing.

Sand grinds against metal when she pushes the door open. The winds must have been far weaker from this side, because the two windows are still intact, and what is left of the furniture is covered by a thick blanket of fluffy dust rather than the red dirt. And there is surprisingly much left, too — the bed, its mattress decaying and canopy hanging limply from the metal frame, the angular desk and the shape of a chair underneath, a cracked monitor above it. The digital photo display on the bedside table flickers with desperation, no photo of her father showing up anymore. Everything is as she had left it the last time she slept here, fourteen months before her disappearance.

She is glad her mother did not repurpose her room—even after she had gone missing and was presumed dead, even after Ana and Willa and Alton gave up on searching and went on to settle their lives without her. Did she grieve? Or did she simply wait, up until the world ended, used to her flighty daughter who ran and came back in circles and was never quite gone for good? Did she die in one of the fauteuils in the living room, eyes closed and hands folded gracefully in her lap, waiting for her wayward child to finally knock on her door again?

Elsie walks towards the desk, careful not to step on the carpet and avoid stirring a cloud of dust into flying up in the air. The computer seems to be dead beyond revival, whatever useful logs it could have hid wiped out, but it doesn’t bother her much; she is not even sure if she would want to see them if she could. It feels like unearthing a corpse, in a way, coming back to this tomb of a home shrouded in silence and red sand and memories. But a glint of sunlight on glass draws her eye, and she wipes away a layer of dust to find a plastic photo frame lying flat on the tabletop.

Ah, Ana. For all her ingenuity she has always been so sentimental, desperate fingers digging hooks in the past to hold her in the present. She read paper books and held most of her records in notebooks, and kept albums of family photos all printed and neatly categorised. Of course she would teach Rasputin to communicate with poetry and pre-Golden Age music and of course Clovis would scoff at the idea, and of course it would turn out to work spectacularly. The photo behind the glass is old and faded, but Elsie can still make out two childish faces staring at the camera with bright, innocent smiles.

She rides off on her Anseris half an hour later, when the sun begins to set over Freehold’s jagged landscape. The shape of Phobos peeks out from between the blushing clouds, and for a moment everything is golden — the sand, the sky, her quivering lip as she tucks her cloak closer around herself and holds a hand over the photo safe in her breast pocket. She does not turn around to see the sunlight shimmer off the building’s rusting frame, and never, in any of the multitude of timelines, comes here again.

[catchmewiddershins]

What it’s like to be loved by them

Ah yes I am throwing out some scraps of content because I finally was able to free up some time to write! And then had no ideas! So we’re doing something cliché lol - Also I used a random character wheel to pick who to write for- (I CAN’T SPELL HINATA’S FIRST NAME IT ALL LOOKS WRONG)

Includes: Miya Osamu, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Hinata Shoyou, Yaku Morisuke, Akaashi Keiji, Oikawa Tooru and Shouhei Fukunaga

Miya Osamu:

Osamu is silver-blue piano and soft chords, the sunlight that slips so softly through the slats on blinds that are slightly broken, the slightly sticky feeling of wet rice in your hands as it fits into the lines that weave across your palms. He is white, cotton blankets and fluffed pillows, cloudy lemonade and losing sight of your toes in a thick carpet. He’s the feeling of calloused fingers on yours, fluffy socks and the taste of warm soups in winter as it breathes its hot steam down your throat and heats your stomach. He is cold cheeks and noses, tea-stained pages and the golden scent of fresh bread that signifies the best feelings of life. Osamu is hand-knitted tea cosies and watercolour paintings blu-tacked to the wall, warm, buttered popcorn and the feeling of the highstreet at night. He is the lights that glimmer on the midnight motorway and moon when it's risen in a blue afternoon sky. Being loved by Osamu is to bob on the ocean, the sun at your back and baking your legs, with salt crusting your skin and the taste of the sea on your lips while his fingers lock with yours, the perfect puzzle pieces to finish you both as the crowing laughs of seagulls echo above you.

Ushijima Wakatoshi: 

Ushijima is solid wood and tall forests, the green sound of a breeze ruffling grass like a father’s hand on the head of his child. He is apples and ice cubes and soft, plaid blankets laid on the dirt. He is the sight of a small ladybird, crouched on the tip of a finger, wings spread to fly into the great expanse of sky that stretches before it. He is red sunrises and purple evenings, the hazy, grey brightness that slows the day, the syrupy sluggish afternoons of drizzled rain and icing on lemon cakes, eaten with hot tea in a library. He is muffled laughter in the corridors and coats and hands that swamp and cover and protect, and the feeling of always looking up, up, up. He is the dusty, old clock you found in the attic and the wooden slats of old houses, he is peeling plaster and new paint, and the squeak and shine of polished floors. He is secret passages through the walls and flights of stairs that extend to infinity, and the deep, throbbing, beetroot purple of the tightest hugs that root themselves down into your chest. Being loved by Ushijima is being loved by the bass line of life, it’s his hand on your head and the other hovering at your waist, slow dancing to songs that weren’t meant for such smooth delight, him spinning you out as the air sparkles and being close to the beat of his heart and mind as you glide and dip and swerve to the thrum of his voice.

Hinata Shoyou:

Hinata is the tightness in your thighs they day after exercise and the sweet tang of mangoes in summer. He's August days when the ground wavers and the grass becomes caramel. He is hot red bricks under bare feet and the dizzying height of the walls of your garden. He is water fights and sprinklers in the baking sun, the squinting eyes and glaring lights, the shortest shorts you own. He is the smokey scent of sausage that stings and waters your tongue, the barbequed weekends and idle chatter of friends and the chink of ice that melts too quickly in glasses of juice that have been kept in the fridge. He's the soft comfort of pyjamas and burning hot skin on a cold day, marshmallows and fire and smouldering logs. He is the dance of heated air and the warmth that fogs the bathroom mirror. He is sand in your toes at one moment and the top of a cliff the next. Being loved by Hinata is the kites that float over the hilltops and the whipped foam of waves and the splattered paint of blankets, the mismatch of deckchairs and parasols at the beach, a sandcastle and the flagpole on top, and the horizon that stretches so far into the distance.

Yaku Morisuke:

Yaku is beaming, sunshine laughter and the ruffled hair of little kids. He is the background chatter in a café and the music playing in your favourite shops, the rushing of places and people as you're dragged down the street on your way to somewhere special. He's the thud, thud, thud of sprinting down a massive hill as the air is ripped from your lungs and your joyful screams are lost to the spiraling sky. He's the blur of green and blue and the smell of grass as you roll half of the way. He is the juice of melting ice lollies and the teasing winks of wind chimes by the sea, he's the sticky residue of broken stems that leaves itself on your fingers after the construction of a daisy chain. He's the light of a phone screen in the dark and the print of an old book where the s and f look irritatingly similar. He is the warmth of your own bed and the scent of your own home, the feeling of old clothes and attachment. Being loved by Yaku is to call to the birds that circle overhead and to feed fresh strawberries to one another, to play fight with sticks and paint your legs with grass stains and to trundle home with the exhaustion that comes from euphoria, sharing a hand, high on life.

Akaashi Keiji:

Akaashi is a lake, clear as glass and just as cold, although not the biting cold, but the cold that invites hot chocolate and a log fire. He is the lakes that teem with fish that nudge your numbing fingers and make you wonder at the world, he is the sunlight that glints off of slick rocks and your glimmering skin. He's the royal blue of day and the navy of night, the colour of the ocean, and of flowers, and of the quiet hum of a cello played delicately. He is the fingers of trees that reach to the sun, and the crunching silence of wet autumn leaves, the scent of old books and ink and the eternal echo of time in a museum. He is the sculpted face of statue and the warmth of a flushed face, the fragility of butterfly wings and flower petals and the strength of the trunk of an oak. He is hummingbirds and kingfishers and the simmering yellow of a springtime kiss. He is the sun at your neck and the shade of a tree above you, the splash of a diving duck and the tickle of grass on your bare feet. Being loved by Akaashi is staring up at him from where you sit, serene tranquility, the faint thrum of a river beneath you as your hand disturbs it, the creak of an aging wooden boat and the dappled sunlight that streams through the trees as he rows you to love.

Oikawa Tooru:

Oikawa is the tinkling of bells and the birdsong that flies in the early morning. He is the banded sunrise and all of its colours, the yellow songs on the radio that you sing along to, the orange-gold warmth of early evening, the pink of a blush on his cheeks, the purple light of the night that casts his face into shadow and the navy blue of his wallpaper. He is doodles on desks and using highlighter ink for nail varnish, he is cute stationery and over-curled handwriting and the giggles that come from sharing a secret. He is the creak of benches that have been sat on too many times and the blinding colours of tropical fish in an aquarium. He’s the blasting sound of loud radio, the rush of windows wide open at seventy miles an hour, the pressure against an arm thrown out of the window and the crescendo of voices singing at the top of their lungs until your voices crack and your throats are deserts. Being loved by Oikawa is whipped cream on your nose and joyful laughter, pancakes on the ceiling and sprinkles scattered over the floor, it’s playing children’s games while waiting for a cake to cook, and snuggling up with popcorn in a fairy-light bedecked fort, with foundations of cotton and walls of blankets as the white glare of television shines in your eyes.

Shouhei Fukunaga:

Fukunaga is uncontrollable giggling and whispered jokes, he is the fire-engine red of plastic buckets and spades, the sweetness of sugary treats and the fizz of sherbert on your tongue. He is brightly coloured doors and hanging baskets of flowers, the unevenness of cobbled streets and pastel houses. He’s the soft song of a springtime breeze when it brushes your cheek with a tender hand and blows your eyes open, dusting your face and head, the exhilarating rush of staring into the wind, the drop in your stomach as you lean backwards into its support. He is the chime of a shop door and the crinkle of packets that have been piled into your arms, the warmth of a kitchen and the taste of joy. He’s puns and playful nudges and blinding grins, crinkling eyes and soft cheeks stretched wide, he’s homemade food and the sparkling expression of the one who made it, he’s the warmth of a borrowed jumper, the mould of a side that you fit to so easily, the clicking of a keyboard when online games are played together. He is the snacks that have melted slightly in his bag, odd socks with garish patterns, googly eyes stuck all over his books, doodles in the margins and fluffy pencil toppers, dancing with no rhythm to old songs in the kitchen and letting yourselves go wild. Being loved by Fukunaga is to lie under the coffee table, your eyes falling into his as he stares you down, deft fingers nimbly shuffling cards, it’s to laugh in disbelief as he pulls your card from the deck, eyebrows wiggling their way off of his face, a playful beam poking through his lips, your legs are tangled together and one of your arms is going numb but it doesn’t matter, you are his and he is yours.

[mossy-covered-bones]

Stitches and Kisses

DP Shiptember 2021

Wednesday: Patching Each Other Up

Ship: Savant Par (Tucker/Danny)

TWs: injuries and blood/ectoplasm

AO3

*

Danny placed the cap back on the thermos, chest heaving as he slowly floated back to the ground.

The adrenaline of a fight started to drain away, and he was smacked with a wave of pain and fatigue. His shoulder ached, and the gash in his side that was oozing ectoplasm stung, and he felt like he was covered in bruises.

It had just been Skulker, but it was late and Danny had barely slept the night before, so he kept making stupid mistakes, dodging too slow or missing openings that could have ended the fight sooner.

He’d probably bleed out if he switched back to his human form right now—he was already starting to feel woozy from blood loss. Ectoplasm loss?

He couldn’t go back to Fenton Works in his ghost form, since his parents had the sensors running, so that ruled out going back there to sew himself up or grab his phone. Not that any stitches he’d do on his side would be anywhere near good, at the angles the wound was at. Sam was usually his go-to for sewing him up, since Tucker couldn’t handle the blood very well, but they were out of town for a college visit right now.

Danny sent a silent prayer to whatever god wanted to take pity on him that day and started making his way to Tucker’s.

He wasn’t that far away, but it took longer to get there than normal, given how tired Danny was and that he had to split his energy between flying and keeping himself invisible so nobody could follow him to his friend’s house.

Tuck was sitting at the computer in his room, perfectly visible from Danny’s place at the window. He looked up when Danny knocked, eyes lighting up when Danny popped back into visibility.

He hopped up from his desk to pull the window open. “Hey, stranger! What brings you to my humble abode?”

Danny giggled, leaning against the windowsill to keep himself from sinking to the ground. “Hey, Tuck. You busy?”

“Nah, what’s up?”

“I, uh… kinda need a patch job.”

Tucker’s smile turned stiff. “Right, right. Come on in, I can fix ya up. I’m not just a pretty face, y’know.” He turned to pull his medkit out from under the bed.

Danny drifted through the wall, letting his feet audibly thud against the carpet.

Tucker spread an old blanket stained with green and red over his bedding, patting the soft surface. “Sit, let's have a looksie.”

“Geez, Tuck. Buy me dinner before you try and get me into your bed,” Danny joked, all but collapsing onto the mattress. “Sew me up, doc.”

Tucker chuckled, taking a second to glance over his friend. Danny didn’t miss how Tucker blanched when he caught sight of the gash in Danny’s side.

“Okay, let’s get this jumpsuit off,” Tucker muttered, feeling for the zipper at the collar. He peeled the rubbery material off slowly, Danny helping as best he could.

Danny hissed in pain as Tucker started to clean up the wound, one hand holding Danny still as he moped up red-tinged ectoplasm.

“So what happened?”

“Skulker.” Danny took a shaky breath, staring up at the white popcorn ceiling. “He got some new toys, managed to distract me enough to get a swing in with a serrated blade.”

Tucker let out a low whistle. “Did he give up on your pelt or something?”

“I think he’s pissed everyone else keeps giving me scars, actually. Or he’s fed up with me always capturing him. I wasn’t exactly paying attention.” He was too busy trying to keep Skulker from killing him a second time.

Tucker nodded, withdrawing his hands from where they had been pressed against Danny’s stomach. “Yeah, dude’s way too fickle with his plans for your remains.”

“More like just a hypocrite.”

Tucker chuckled. “Definitely. Alright, I’m gonna start your stitches now. Try not to bleed through the Med Blanket this time, alright?”

“I’ll do my best.”

Danny’s hands gripped the blanket under him as Tucker started pulling the needle through his flesh, slowly sewing him back together.

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from voicing his pain, eyes flitting about the room to find something else to concentrate on, something to distract from the pain.

They settled on Tucker’s face. Thick framed glasses perched on the end of his nose, eyes flicking back and forth as he worked, tongue occasionally darting out to run over his lips. He looked nervous—of course he looked nervous, Tucker still hated the sight of blood, even if he could tolerate it, and he hadn’t given Danny stitches anywhere near as often as Sam had—but his hands were steady as he guided the needle, movements slow and sure.

Danny took a second to take in his hands, brushing Danny’s abdominal muscles and the bottom of his ribs as Tucker worked. They were lightly calloused, from the tinkering Tucker did in his free time and the Fenton Works weapons he sometimes used.

Tucker paused just long enough to push his glasses back up his nose, glancing up at Danny. “Hey, how you holding up?”

Danny startled, realizing his eyes had wandered back to Tucker’s lips. He forced a wan grin. “Hurts, but I’ll live. Well, half live. How much do you have left?”

“Just a few more stitches, I’ll be done soon. PInky promise.”

Danny winced as the needle was once again jabbed into his skin. “Oh, good.”

His breath caught as Tucker leaned forward, hovering just a few inches above hin

Excuse his mind for jumping there, but Danny was only wearing half of his clothes, he was kind of lightheaded from pain and ectoplasm loss, and Tucker looked kinda hot when he was concentrating. Plus the inherent homoeroticism of tending to your friend’s wounds. Danny’s eyes wandered back to his friend’s lips of their own free will.

Maybe Danny just read too much fanfiction.

Tucker’s hands stilled against his stomach, lingering just a little too long for what Danny would consider to be appropriate for platonically patching your buddy. He leaned back with an exclamation of “All done!”

Danny was probably just reading too much into it. He shook his head, starting to push himself back up. “Thanks, Tuck, I should—“

A hand was at his shoulder—the one that had gotten hurt in his fight with Skulker—pushing him back down. “Dude, you looked a little woozy when you got here, and you keep spacing out. Just take it easy for a little bit.”

He fell back with little resistance, sighing dramatically. “If you insist.”

“Hey, I am on doctor duty today. That means my word is, like, legally binding,” Tucker said, packing up the medkit.

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Tucker laid down on the bed next to Danny. “Not having teenaged half-dead superheroes in my bed at nine pm would definitely help.”

“Wait, you’ve had other half-dead superheroes in your bed? Tucker, are you cheating on me?”

“Ah, you caught me, there’s another man. Though I wouldn’t worry about it, he’s nowhere near as handsome as you.”

They broke out in laughter, Tucker turning to stifle his giggles in his bedding while Danny tilted to the side to take the strain off his injury as his sides started to shake with mirth.

The sound trailed off into short chuckles, and Danny glanced over to Tucker, mouth open in the beginning of a reply that cut off when Danny saw his friend’s expression.

The corners of Tucker’s eyes were still creased from laughing, a fond smile on his lips. He was tilted onto his side, and Danny realized if he were just a few inches closer their noses would be brushing.

Danny could easily lean over and kiss him.

He felt his face flush at the thought, eyes once again finding their way to Tucker’s lips. He was breathless in a way that had nothing to do with the battle from twenty minutes ago.

Tucker just barely leaned forward, eyelids sinking half closed.

Despite the heat in his cheeks, Danny leaned forward to meet him.

The kiss was soft and slow and short, Tucker pulling back way too soon to shoot Danny a shit eating grin. “Hey, are we in a bromance now?”

Danny absolutely did not hit Tucker with a pillow for that comment, vehemently denying the barely hidden giggles, and he totally didn’t pull Tucker in for another, longer kiss.

[escapetodreamworld]

Love is blind

Colette Marchant x Reader

Words 1880

A/n I originaly had a much longer idea in mind for an obsessive Colette fic but I decided to hold off on that idea, if y'all want it maybe I'll get around to writing it sometime this year.

Warnings, obsessive behavior, and maybe a slight controlling behavior. I don't think there's anything else but let me know if I forgot something.

Requested by @simplaif

Taglist ( @medeliadracon )

Max Medici selling his circus to V.A. Vandemere might've been the best thing to ever happen to you. You, your brother Holt, your niece and nephew and the rest of the circus all moved to Dreamland Amusement Park. You know the only reason you're here is because of Dumbo, the flying elephant you and the kids have been taking care of, but you're still happy to be here. 

The best thing about moving here was Colette, the beautiful trapeze artist. Ever since you met her, back at the old circus, when she came with Vandemere to see Dumbo, you haven't stopped crushing on her.

You're starting to get the impression she might like you back, there are things she does that make you wonder. Like when you catch her staring at you or when Vandemere showed you to your new rooms and they were next to Colette's and she smirked at you as she passed by, and then now, she kept eye contact with you while she practiced her trapeze.

You and Colette were the only one in the practice tent, You had shooed the kids and Holt off, Vandemere gave the kids passes to go on all the rides, Colette was getting better at riding Dumbo so You and Holt decided the kids and him could run off and have fun before Dumbo's first show, tonight.

You watch as Colette and Dumbo fly around the room once more before landing, Colette hops off Dumbo. Dumbo runs over to you immediately, nearly knocking you over, you kneel down and start petting him. Colette clears her throat, getting your attention, you look up to see her staring at you rather intensely. "What do you think, are we ready for tonight?" Colette asks, never taking her eyes off you.

"The two of you are improving a lot, but I think your bond could be closer." You say, looking at Dumbo then her again, you continue. "Dumbo knows you, but he doesn't have a relationship with you, you're just the lady that rides on his back. There's no friendship between you too." You explain, scratching behind Dumbo's ears while he leans into your side.

Colette huffs. "And how am I supposed to build a closer bond in just a few hours?" The French woman's visibly annoyed that you're critiquing her performance, you roll your eyes. "Come here." You say, gesturing her over. Once she's close enough you grab her hand, pulling her down to kneel beside you, then you guide her hand to the spot on Dumbo's head he loves having scratched.

After a minute of giving dumbo love and affection he rolls over to cuddle closer to Colette, causing her to genuinely smile. As she continues petting Dumbo you take the moment to stare at her, taking in her beauty. She catches you, you snap your head back down to watch Dumbo, hoping she doesn't think you were really staring at her. You start berating yourself for being stupid, but you feel a hand on your knee.

You look up to see her staring intensely at you again, your heart starts beating so loudly your scare she'll hear it. Colette leans in slightly causing you to let out a shaking breath, making Colette smirk and lean closer, she glances down at your lips then back up to look into your eyes. You're so nervous you can't even lean forward to close the distance between you. Just as you feel Colette breath ghost across your lips the doors open, causing you both to pull away quickly.

Vandemere walks in followed by his bodyguard, Vandemere looks at us on the ground and asks. "Why aren't you practicing?" He's clearly annoyed we're not. You clear your throat "Dumbo's been flying all day, he needs to rest before tonight's performance." You say, voice a little shaky. You see Colette smirking in the corner of your eye.

Vandemere nods "Ah yes well, I came to talk to you anyway, about something important. There's going to be a red carpet before tonight's show, a few reporters and photographers, and I want YOU on my arm tonight." Both you and Colette say "what" at the same time, you're shocked and nervous about the idea, Colette's angry.

"Shouldn't your girlfriend accompany you on the red carpet?" You ask, look from Vandemere to Colette. "No, I don't want Colette being seen until Dumbo and her's performance. And I want Dumbo's trainer there." Vandemere says, growing annoyed.

You try once more to be out of this. "My brother is also Dumbo's trainer, so are the kids."

"The kids are too young for these kinds of things, and your brother doesn't have as pretty of a face as you." Vandemere says, trying to be charming. You sigh in defeat, and agree to do it. Vandemere claps his hands together excitedly. "Wonderful, I already have some seamstresses in your room, so let's go get you into a gown for tonight." And quickly ushers you out of the tent.

You spend the next few hours trying on countless dresses and getting your hair and makeup done, until you're finally ready. You're nervous but you're able to get through all the interviews with a smile, "you're almost done" Vandemere whispers to you while you pose for pictures. You start to relax, happy you've gotten through this with nothing to bad happening, but then Vandemere does something stupid, he leans down and kisses you. A short quick peck on the lips, you immediately pull away, and storm off, praying no one took a photo of it.

You go find Holt and the kids in the main tent, backstage getting ready for Dumbo's performance. Luckily Colette's nowhere to be seen, you don't know if you can face her right now, Holt asks if you're okay and you lie saying you are.

The night ends in more chaos, there wasn't a net during the performance, Dumbo slipped and almost caused Colette to fall. Then Dumbo flew out of the tent and found his mother in a wild animal exhibit, and Milly ran off. After finally finding Milly, you start the long processes of walking her to her rooms then walking to yours. Somewhere between finding Dumbo and finding Milly you broke a heel. So you're walking barefoot, once you're finally in your room, you strip off your dress and fall into bed.

You wake to a banging noise coming from somewhere close by, you roll over in bed curling into your blankets, trying to ignore it. After a minute with no signs of the sounds stopping you get up to see where it's coming from and if you can make it stop, you grab a robe tying it tightly around yourself before going to investigate the noise. Upon entering the main lounge area you find out the noise is coming from someone bang on your door, assuming it's Holt, you march angrily to the door, ready to tell him to go away.

You yank the door open, to find a very angry Colette, holding today's newspaper. You can't read the newspaper because of how she's holding it, but you assume it's about her performance and that's why she's mad. Sighing you opening the door wider signaling for her to come in, she does and as soon as you close the door your back is slammed into it. Colette's body pressing yours to the door one hand on the door by your waist the other by your head, you're shocked, unable to comprehend what's happening. Colette's eyes burning with anger and something else, her almost ragged breath hitting your face.

You're a little worried but that doesn't stop the feeling burning in your lower stomach, you start to squirm but don't make an effort to move away. Colette notices this causing her to grin, she pushes herself closer to you and ghosts her lips against yours, never letting your lips touch even when you try closing the distance. "Colette." You whimper, pleading with her. Her grin only grows. "Aww you poor thing, you're so desperate for me." Colette coos, teasing you. causing you to go weak. Colette moves to your neck, her breath hitting it, and you can feel her teeth graze your jaw. You whimper again, causing Colette to chuckle against your throat.

Colette moves closer to your ear. "Just say the magic word." She whispers, seductively. Then continues teasing you. "Please." You gasp, desperately. You're not sure you can take much more of her teasing. Colette wastes no time, moving her hands from the wall to your face and kisses you, pulling you closer to her. You kiss her back immediately, melting into her. You grab onto her shoulders, steading yourself. Colette's tongue slips into your mouth, exploring, dominating. When Colette starts to pull away she bites your bottom lip pulling on it before releasing it and you.

Your gasping for air you didn't know you needed, still on cloud 9 from the kiss. Colette leans back, a grin on her face as she admirers you. Her hands still resting on your face, she caresses your cheeks with her thumbs. Her grin widens, you see on her face that she just had a thought, you start to ask but she beats you to it.

"You seem to have enjoyed this kiss more than yours last night." She says, smugly. And traces your bottom lip with her thumb. You're shocked, you really thought no one had seen it. Colette raises an eyebrow at your stunned expression, then proceeds to pick up the paper she must've dropped when she pushed you against the wall, and read from an article. "...After my talk with V.A. Vandemere and the lovely flying elephant trainer, Miss (Y/l/n). I witnessed a moment between them, a kiss, one that ended with Miss (Y/l/n) storming off…" Colette finishes reading it and looks up at you. 

You blush, embarrassed that someone not only saw but wrote about it. "I um.. Did you read the part where it says I stormed off." You say weakly, avoiding eye contact.

"I did." Colette says, annoyed. But somehow you know it's not you she's annoyed at. You chance a look at her, but when you do you're caught in her intense stare, unable to look away. "Please don't be mad, I didn't like it." You say, trying to reassure her.

Colette lightens up on her stare, she comes closer to you again. "I know baby, I just don't like it when people touch things that belong to me." Colette coos, and gently grabs your chin. "You do belong to me, don't you?" Colette asks, her voice low. Almost daring you to say no.

If you weren't so in love with her you might've been able to tell how dangerous this was, might've questioned the tone she used, maybe you would've seen the way she stared at you when you weren't aware. Maybe you'd question why your room is next to hers or why it's so far away from your brother's when you know there's vacant rooms closer. But you're in love, you don't notice any of it.

You look at Colette with so much love and adoration, and tell her what she wanted to hear. "Yes."