#I’m already having to decode everything people say all the time

[questionably-audhd-oracle]

The thing about being somewhere on the ace spectrum (or maybe just depressed) is that when an innuendo isn’t very obvious, I will probably not get it; this is not because I’m an uwu innocent baby, it’s because I don’t have sex on the mind all the goddamn time and I don’t see life through the lens of sex

Frankly the amount of times I’ve gotten ridiculed by people for not getting an innuendo or walking into a dirty joke is stupid. Maybe I am simply pure of heart. Maybe I have better things to think about. Fuck off

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Spiritual Siblings

Bruce: My assassin kid can't be that normal!

Damian: Well, I’m completely emotionally stable by Amity Park standards. The problem is with you. Obviously.

~~~~~

Damian had long found peace and home in Amity, so he did not worry that the new family and Gotham might not accept him.

Sure, Al Ghul had lived without any contact with his biological father all these years but he could safely say that he had a happy childhood. First years were hard and he was raised more as a weapon than a human being. Even so, after that a ghost who decided to become his brother appeared and everything changed.

Damian still does not know what Ra's owes Phantom but Danny has a right to take him, without prior notification, to live with Fentons, to visit Aunt Alicia at her farm, and to make Vlad’s weekends much less calm and boring. Danny jokes that he just steals him as a hostage when Al Ghul does not pay taxes for using Lazarus Pits. Whatever the reason, he already has a family that loves him.

However, he still wanted to make an effort to fit in this one too. The model of conduct certainly was his older brother. No, not the oldest, of course. To be honest Dan wasn’t the kind of a man that could charm you from the first minute. But Danny, in Damian’s experience, had a calming effect on people. So he tried to act like him.

And, yeah, for lack of experience, he was more fun!Danny at home and super!Danny on patrol but he also really tried not to get any of his own assassin personality in his new-self and was tired of it. He couldn’t get a 100% match. Fine. Still doesn’t look like anyone in this house really likes him, so whatever.

Damian understood why Bruce didn't like his company. Jazz had long ago explained to him the importance of voluntary consent. His mother did a terrible thing. Al Ghul was not a child and therefore he was ready to admit it. However, he also understood that children were not responsible for the actions of their parents.

As a biosocial being, he wanted to be more than just a painful reminder of what had happened to Bruce. Wayne's ignoring of his existence was rude. But Damian wouldn't force this man to spend time with him just because he was legally obligated to take care of his well-being. He wasn't going to prove anything to Batman, and he definitely didn't need his attention. The care of his real family is enough.

But Damian really tried to get along with new potential siblings. He even shared Sam's and Danny’s special jokes with some of adopted kids 'cause he didn’t want them to feel like he put himself above them. He wasn't good at showing emotions but he was as open as the assassin could afford to be to strangers.

But they all obviously expected something from him. And it reminded him of the League in an unpleasant way. It was easier with Fentons. Almost everyone in Amity Park was saying what they thought, and Damian didn’t have to waste time decoding potential conspiracies.

Damian missed movie marathon nights with Sam, Tucker, and Danny. And he hoped Dani had time to bother Vlad in his absence.

It was so weird here. When Danny and Valerie were fighting, they would gather at the dinner table anyway. When Damian wanted to have combat training with Drake here, he was forced to stay in his room. A very strange punishment. And undeserved one too.

Al Ghul felt quite calm and fine sitting at his easel and painting the people he left behind. An unusual subject for his paintings. But, Ancients, he missed Amity.

He missed Jack's bone breaking hugs, Maddie's Ecto-Contaminated food, arguments of Sam and Tucker, cozy art class with Mr. Baxter and even Vlad's done look. He missed Danny telling him about the stars. He also missed sword practice with Dan's boyfriend Fright Knight and he missed Dan's stories about his other youth. He missed literary evenings with Mr. Lancer, Clockwork and Ghost Writer. He even missed the hours-long Jazz lectures. He missed the dance of death and life. He missed being looked at without expecting anything from him. He missed the crowd. In the league, he was never at one with himself and in Amity he was always surrounded by people who were not afraid of his fate as the heir to the said League. This Manor was full of people, but for the first time in his life he felt lonely. Damian has to admit that he felt left behind. Of course, he understood that people needed time to build relationships, but he could have sworn that even he didn't need that much time to connect with Fentons. Maybe this is one of the tricks of the Clockwork? Then this one is not funny at all.

~~~~~Phone call~~~~ Damian: Mom, I want to go home. Maddie: I'm so sorry to hear that, sweetheart. What happened? Damian: Just…Nobody likes me. Why was I sent here? I'm not weak. And my brothers are quite capable of protecting me from Raas. I don't need Batman for this. Maddie: We'll figure it out, champ. Moms love you, remember? I'll talk to Talia, okay? Your brothers and sisters are already on edge and ready to steal you right during the patrol. Damian: It would be nice, but it would put a bat on their tails. So lock them in thermoses if they bother you too much. Maddie: But that won't stop Jazz. Damian: I missed the part where that's my problem. Maddie: Well, it will be your problem if she comes to your doorstep with your childhood photos and moralizing.

~~~~~~~~

It's his birthday. And he was always excited about it. But now, looking at the pile of gifts, he realizes that these people don't know him at all.

And this is the family of the best detective in the world? Maybe yes, but none of them bothered to really find info about him or ask him about his likes. Damian's a stranger here, and that's obvious.

The lunch container, which he will obviously give to the Boxing Lunch when he's in the right time interval, tennis rackets that Youngblood might like, The Graveyard Book…

Valerie had already read it to him and Dani before it was published. Thanks to Clockwork for his little miracles. The book reminded him of home.

Obviously this one is from Jason. And well, Damian doesn't think it was a pun on his life in Amity, more like Hood's inside joke about death but Dami will definitely leave this thing in the room at the Manor and maybe take it with him to the GZ or Amity Park.

~~~~~~~

When they gather at the festive table, Damian realizes that he has to make some kind of speech. He tries to be as brief as possible in his report.

Damian: Todd, your gift is appreciated. And I found a potential use for items that were given by others, Bruce.

Damian never called Batman his father. With Maddie and Talia, calling both moms wasn't weird, especially when Jazz explained to his biological mom that he wasn't trying to replace her. But with Wayne, it was different. Both women took care of him, they deserved this title. Wayne provided for his needs, but his core heart didn't feel like they were close. Surely there's nothing wrong if they're just Bruce and Damian? Obviously, they both don't enjoy each other's company.

Jason: So, do you like books, little demon? Damian: Sometimes reading is quite relaxing, I should point out. I'm not indifferent to Stephen King and Lovecraft. Jason: Personal recommendations? Damian: Cujo is one of my favorites. Jason: Not a common opinion, huh. Damian: It reminds me of my family. Damian tries to smile like Danny does, but Jason's twitching eye clearly indicates that he screwed it up.

~~~~Dick and Jason synchronously drop their forks as an excuse for a conference under the table.~~~~ Dick*whispers*: How's the situation? Jason*whispers back*: If the boy asks for a dog, don't be fooled. He will be happy to dance on our graves.

~~~~Cass knocks over their heads, urging them to return to their seats.~~~~

Damian: So how good you are at fading and sliding,Todd? Jason: Why did you ask? I can't, of course. Damian: Because you're dead. It seemed to me that this was a completely understandable interest. Jason: Wow, what a jerk. Damian: I wonder why your own incompetence makes me a jerk? Even my sister could do this when she wasn't dead for even a month.

Jason, for some reason, looks awkward, although he has never been embarrassed before by the idea that a girl could be stronger than him.

Jason: Your sister? How old was she when... So it's all about age. Damian rolls his eyes.

Damian: We're the same age. It seems like it was four or five years ago. To be honest, I don't remember. I wasn't around then. I'll ask Danielle the next time I go to the cemetery to visit her. Dick: I'm so sorry, Dami. Where is she buried? We can take you. Damian: There's no need. She has no grave, as there was nothing to bury. Bruce sighs loudly and covers his eyes with his hands. Damian: It's just easier to contact the afterlife in places like this, you now? Duke: We are very sorry, dude. Damian: Don't be. People come and go, and then come back if they haven't finished annoying you. There's no point in regretting the past. Her creation was not the most ethical thing but everything is going as it should. At least that's what Grandpa says. Considering that the old man is older than time, I prefer to believe him. No one plays with fate without his permission unless they want to get hit by the clock. Tim now looks like he's going to throw up and Damian hurries to move his plate closer to him. Jason: Yes, Bruce, this is definitely your son. Damian: Did I say something wrong? Dick smiles faintly at him but still doesn't find anything to say. Damian shrugs and goes back to eating asparagus. People outside of Amity are so weird.

Signal looks at Damian suspiciously as he carefully rearranges the plate of soy sausages away from himself. Did he take him for an idiot? Everyone knows that even vegetarian sausage bite and fight no worse than those with meat when they come back to life. It's not Damian's fault that he doesn't have an ectoblast with him and wants to have extra distance from the opponent.

~~~At the same time, in the walls of Wayne Manor~~~ Dani: The operation codenamed "Get Haunted Idiot" is declared open. Danny and Dan *salute*.

~~~Several Days Later~~~

Damian: So, this is Dan. Danny says we keep him as a GIW repeller. Dick: And Danny and Dan are.. Jazz: His brothers. I'm Jazz by the way. Elle and I are his sisters. Damian: I feat the criteria to participate in their name cult, so they took me. Dan, Danny, Dani and Dami. Dan *ruffles Damian's hair* : I prefer to call this biting threat Damn, to be honest. Dami: Shut up, DaNtE, they almost wrote Dark in your passport, you idiot. I can't believe I thought I missed you. Danny: Wow. Rude. Your grandpa would be disappointed. Great job, lil one.

~~~Several years later~~~

[melpomenismask]

Revati, The Messiah.

I’m going to give you a look from the outside in, because I get what you guys feel about Revati naks. We are also watching ourselves in real time. We are aware of how strange it all is, ourselves, our lives, the world around us. But when you already know how things will go, are not confused by the basic existential concept of cause and effect, what the hell are we supposed to do with this big, long, messy trap everyone else calls life? When you can understand everything you see—given you can see yourself—how do you even life a life without knowing every step you take is not your own, but a part of a dance that starts from the womb and ends when you never come back?

Oh, and, everyone thinks you’re either the second coming of christ, or that other guy who shows up when it’s time to get a bit more silly.

Welcome to the Revati conundrum. We hate it here too. That’s why we’re laughing through it. You just don’t get the joke. You think all this stuff matters still. Sorry to see it. Let me know when you’re ready to chill out.

I am a Revati sun AMK in the 12th house and it is time for me to cook 🤓. I love being a Revati. We are everything and nothing. We are simultaneously in and out of the loop. We are the loop. We are the bridge between “reality” and the true order of things. And then there’s all this other stuff. …Yay…so..cool…

Revatis are fundamentally esoteric. We are magical and zany, and we only have to open our eyes to use it. This is no easy task, of course, but it is the only one that matters. Everything else is just noise. But, the noise is fun. Sure. Until everyone takes it far too seriously like that’s all there is to being a person. Then you judge us. Then we’re suddenly crazy, bizzare, unhinged, dangerous. We’re just bearded kids playing in this big, weirdly realistic sandbox. We’re not thinking of you. That’s our power and our flaw. We’re not thinking of you, we’re thinking of everything. If you can grasp that axiom, you will decode us very easily. We love and care deeply—so deeply we have to laugh at how awful everything is. How cruel and selfish and heartless everyone seems, and how it could be fixed if we just followed the obvious guiding signs.

But that’s the thing. They’re not very obvious, are they?

Well then, maybe I should tell everyone what they are!

People think what you’re saying is crazy, and there’s no proof. Maybe we are crazy?

Oh.

Maybe I am crazy.

Maybe I can make it fun.

Revatis usually get no mind nor sympathy when we are young. We are too different and confusing to even try to work with, and we understand things most don’t, but we aren’t sure either, so when no one else gets it, what else can we do other than laugh at the confusion of it all. Because maybe then you’ll let us hang around. Join in.

Right?

Crazy, Crazy Revati!

We literally don’t know what we’re doing. That’s another thing. They sound like the same, but they aren’t. Is that already too confusing? Boo hoo, welcome to Revati. As a Revati, I was born into the world with the sense that there was something bigger than what was around me going on, but with no proof and no sense of where to find it. So I just screwed around instead, and then I found out everyone hates fun Revati. And, I didn’t get any less ignorant than before, but I sure did walk all over everyone in the process!

It’s fair to not be pleased.

Fun Revati is weird. Fun Revati is laughing at jokes that are definitely at your expense. Fun Revati does not care if you feel bad, because it’s not about you, it’s about how you and everything are just so hilarious. Imagine waking up everyday walking over two left feet in “reality”, but with a bunch of mysterious spiritual gifts and esoteric knowledge that is oddly making things work out for us. Most people do not understand Revati while carrying its energy, so understand they are likely confused too, but trying to find the sense of things. It’s when they don’t want to admit they are wrong or have harmed others that the problems start. We look for rules, but the only rules we ultimately get is to have fun. Make the world brighter, happier. Laugh at yourself. Laugh at the world. Enjoy the world, you learn more when you explore. Try not to hurt people in the process. And be sure to smile. Smile, because everything is so sad. Smile, because everyone is so sad and lost. But we know where to go. We’re being led.

…Well, kinda.

Mostly?

I feel like there’s someone else better qualified than me to give you wisdom. I’m just Crazy Revati, remember?

Why are you all looking at me all of the sudden?

Revati, The Wise One.

I find it interesting how the planets resonate as motivations for nakshatra behavior. For my own analysis, I like to point out that mercury is a small, fast planet. We are on the outskirts because we are light years ahead of everyone around us without trying, it’s just what we were given. The downside of that power is that we are light years ahead of everyone without trying. Mercury is smart. It knows it’s smart because no one can keep up. But it is so small and everyone picks on it for being so smart. So it gets bitter. Jealous. Resentful. Hurt. Scared.

Stronger.

Mercury never has to stop. That is our curse. We are constantly moving and making things happen. But what is actually worth making happen. Why are you moving so much? What the hell is going on?

Revati stops.

Revati listens.

Revati, with time and support (and patience) understands.

We are all born children, and we all enter the world as if it is an blank canvas as for our own lives. For most other planets this becomes clearly not the case, but Mercury is too fast. Reality can’t even keep up with us. We’re so smart. We’re so clever and brilliant. We’re on top of the world. We deserve it. We should take everything for ourselves. No one ever considered us, so we should take everything we can get. It ours. It’s owed. We deserve to take the world, and we can. It’s justice, not greed. Don’t you know what I’ve been through?

Hello, Jyestha. Dodging therapy sessions, I see.

When you master the game of life, when you can conquer the world like you can wag your pinky, then it’s not that important anymore, is it? Unfortunately Jyesthas don’t figure that out until they destroy all they build, but Revatis slow down sooner. We are still in conflict. We’re so fast we start slowing down. Nothing is ever in perfect order. Nothing is ever “clear”. But that is the clarity.

Everything is as it should be.

That is the truth Revati natives live by. We follow the flow of existence as beat we can. We try to help the world get in tune with it too, hence our humanitarian and nerdy streaks. We want to find a way to make everyone understand, because we can feel how much the ignorance hurts. We see it hurting innocents who only committed the crime of having bad luck, we see it fueling those that are the root of the cause. We try to laugh. But it’s not a laughing matter. And at a certain point, it’s just not funny anymore, and we have to slow down to fall in tune with how out of order yet in order everything is for our own sanity and sensitive hearts.

Still, we are ever misunderstood.

If we are not jesters or fools, we are gods. Messianic. Heroes. We don’t think of ourselves that way if we’re well-adjusted. That’s the opposite of the Revati way. There is no pride, no ego, no leaders, no hierarchy. There is simply Being. We focus too much as Revati as a mere fish, but fish are a part of the whole. You forget, the ocean is one big soul. You forget the ocean of existence, of all things. After you conquer reality, the only thing left is to understand it. And to reach true knowledge, you must leave yourself behind.

Ironically, it is by doing this that Revati natives finally get what they always wanted. To be able to help, to be able to understand, to know what they’re doing. We are tour guides—inexperienced, but just give us minute—to this whole funny game called life. It is at this point Mercury finally slows down and can join in with everyone else; share what it has learned and gathered from all that running instead of keeping it for ourselves.

(Seriously, Jyestha. Therapy. It’s painful to watch you guys make messes. Literally get over yourself and your problems will “magically” disappear. With love, it’s genuinely stupid behavior if you’re so smart. Get over it all and watch the light come in. Obviously not all of you, but the ones who got personally offended. Doesn’t it ever get boring, the same old victim mentality?)

When Revatis finally come into themselves, we are finally able to help everyone else smile about life too, because we know where to find hope, where to find love, where to find certainty (spoiler: there is none). We think it’s obvious until we finally slow down and open ourselves up to our bigger, slower friends. Mercury is clever, but not exactly smart. That’s a whole other ballgame. But it is wise once it finds its way to stop running, and just start riding the waves, because it can show everyone else how to do it too.

As long as you don’t turn us away, that is.

The “ocean” of life is big and wide, unfamiliar, unpredictable, and Revatis are born native to it. We are moved by the waves. We connect with our friends while we wiggle our little fish butts all over the sea, trying to learn as much as we can. When you are one with the sea, you no longer have to fight it to get what you want, where you need to go. It’s not easy for us either.

But we see you. We see how much more lost you are. It surprises us, but we are soft people. We see you, and we want to help. And when we are done, we can finally join the ocean in its grand design, and leave the need to smile behind. It seems harmless, I know. There are worse things to cling to. But when you have all heart and no clarity, when one thing hurts, everything hurts. And we can truly feel everything. We can find joy in it. Even gratitude. Even power. Even freedom.

But we no longer need joy when we are at peace.

That’s what this is all about in the end.

I think.

Maybe.

From a friend. :)

[ithaquasbbg]

hi!! can you write an ithaqua x reader where the reader is the one being comforted? like they had a bad day, or if it's in canon, they had a lot of bad matches. mostly fluff, maybe? i want itha to reassure me that everything is gonna be ok!

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

This sat in my inbox for a while, but hope it is up to what you wanted. :)

Don’t worry- Ithaqua x reader

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Pairing : Ithaqua x reader

Tw : just a little mention of an injury :)

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Your entire body hurts, taking large amounts of effort to even take another step towards the cipher. Today had been rough, match after match resulting in losses up until this game You’re currently in- which had just started. It’s upsetting to lose as much as you have- making you feel like nothing but a nuisance for the other people in the manor. Nonetheless, you continue trying to push through this last match of today.

It’s hard to focus on decoding when you can barely keep yourself from passing out or crying at any moment. You receive shock after shock from the machine after messing up multiple times. The fact that this alerts the Hunter is something that completely leaves your mind until you feel your heartbeat picking up.

Instincts take over quickly as you run through the grass towards a window you can vault, though the moment you attempt to vault, your body gives up and collapses onto the ground below with a loud thud. Just like that, tears of frustration and pain fall down your face, looking back towards the hunter that was chasing you. To your surprise, it was Ithaqua.

Despite being unable to see his face, you can see the way he tenses up upon seeing you in pain. Quickly, he drops his weapon and sits down in front of you, pulling you into a gentle embrace. He wasn’t the best at comforting, you knew this from past experiences, but he tries anyways. “(Name), what’s wrong?” He asks, voice quiet and gentle as he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“I can’t keep doing this..” you whisper, wiping your eyes and looking up at the Hunter in front of you. “All I’ve done is ruin matches.. and I’m so tired.” He hums, lifting his mask up enough to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead. “How about I give you a win then? Then you can go back to the manor and rest.”

“You’d do that?” You ask, aware that your teammates have already finished a large amount of ciphers. “Yes, (Name), I don’t mind a loss if it means you can get rest.” Within a few seconds of him saying that, you hear a sound signaling that he had surrendered and the match was now over.

Slowly, you stand up, wincing in pain when you put weight on your leg that you had hurt during the fall. “Here, let me help you.” Ithaqua’s hands gently lift you into his arms, carrying you back to your room in the manor. “Do you need ice?” He asks, taking a look at your bruised leg the moment he lays you down on the bed.

“No no, Itha, it’s fine. Just lay with me, please?” You ask, watching as the blonde takes off his mask and gives you a gentle smile as he lays down next to you. Cold hands cup your cheeks as he looks at you with a wide smile.

“(Name), everything will be okay, everyone has rough days.” He whispers, kissing your cheek as he pulls you closer to him, resting your head on his chest. “But-“ you start, only to feel a finger pressed to your lips as Ithaqua giggles “No buts, I promise you nobody is mad at you for having a rough day, alright?”

You nod and listen to the sound of Ithaqua’s heartbeat for a few moments before he speaks up again. “And if anybody is mad at you, I’ll speak with them, alright?” You laugh and nod, snuggling closer to Ithaqua. “Alright, I love you.”

And with that, you’re enveloped in the familiar warmth of the blonde and slowly drift off to sleep while listening to his breathing. How lucky you were to have a man like him.

[teopatra]

💋✨Pick an aesthetic🎀🔮

What is going on around you?

Have you been having dreams you want to decode? Sensing an energy that you can’t quite put your finger on? Are you feeling a shadiness from people causing you to question their weird intention? Choose one or more or all three of these piles to give you secret messages from my highest self to you X0

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

❤️‍🔥

Pile 1️⃣

❤️‍🔥 everything is a friggin joke to someone and that ish is annoying the helck out of you!

❤️‍🔥 you’re not crazy you’re just right and someone has been making you feel crazy for feeling that way wen n reality you’re 💯 % right for feeling the way you do bc tbh muggs just act STOOPID sometimes.. no a lot of times

❤️‍🔥 it’s one thing to be lighthearted and youthful, but it’s some traits someone had that is turning you offffffff like ew 🤧

❤️‍🔥 the only reason you may feel on edge is because someone is an actual joke and it’s P’d you off bc you’re trying to be nice abt it butttt 😐 you have no issue having a good time or cracking you a jokey joke but let’s bffr shall we??

❤️‍🔥yes you absolutely can bet that so far this pile has been about other people , you wanna know why? Bc for so long you’ve made excuses for others. But didn’t you already heal that aspect of yourself? So then why are you allowing yourself to believe that it’s not them it’s you? And even if it’s both of you, take accountability for yourself by asking how did you even allow this type of energy back into your auric field?

❤️‍🔥there’s a lesson to be learned here with the super full (blue) moon being conjunct Saturn in Pisces, meaning, there is a LESSON to be revisited.

❤️‍🔥 Pisces is notorious for illusions, delusions, and the ✨unknown..✨ BUT Pisces is ALSO known for “the undoing”

❤️‍🔥 do you know what that means? If you don’t, that’s your problem LOL jk no but really if you haven’t heard this before then I’m glad you’ve become enlightened just now. But fr figure out what the “undoing” means to you; it’s so eerie🤩

❤️‍🔥MONEY will be the death of someone or a situation..LITERALLY please remember not only are we in mercury retrograde ♍️ but Mars just moved into it’s detriment ♎️ so people are just saying AND doing ANYTHING .. if you as a light being feel on edge, JUST IMAGINE what’s going on inside the mind of an unhealed mfa.. so crusty, disgust me

❤️‍🔥 MAJORITY of society values material things and money, I mean cmon it makes sense right bc how else are we gonna survive and live comfortably happy lives? Cool, but at the same time, money RULES the mind of those who deem it the highest value compared to those who value love, peace, happiness, unity, and divine consciousness.

❤️‍🔥 I mean who wouldn’t want money or someone to just give them money just bc but the point I’m making is that money in this earthly plane in this 3D dimension has in fact become (one of) the roof of all evils…

❤️‍🔥anyhoo continue to mind your business as you always do and just let what anyone has to say roll off your shoulders; focus on maintaining balance whatever its mentally or physically

❤️‍🔥remember strategy against an opponent always isn’t about strength or blows, but about you yourself. You are the avatar of YOU, the master of elements📿

❤️‍🔥

🌸🌸

2️⃣

🌸you are 2 sides of a coin. On one side you peep everything without trying ; big Virgo and Scorpio energy. Most of the time you don’t consciously consider what you’ve noticed bc you know you’ll hyper fixate on it in the moment so you like to keep n the back of your mind until later to really decide what the heck just happened.

🌸 on the other side you are almost completely oblivious to the shade around you bc you’re a very sweet person and you just enjoy happiness. You have a lot of gratitude which protects you from low vibrational entities. It reminds me of a baby in a movie seeing a scary monster and wanting to pet it.

🌸based on that last example lol there may be blatant disrespect and shade that people are displaying towards you and eventually you’ll peep and try to self deprecate. Please don’t do that, that’s what they want.

🌸that (Blue) super full moon we just had conjunct Saturn wants you to work on your root chakra and heart chakra and to stop blaming yourself when people are mean or cruel. You are perfect there’s nothing wrong with you and if you are being ganged up on that’s bc you’re a strong force to be recockned with.

🌸you bother lame weak weird bishes soooo much, it makes you not want to be around others sometimes especially during this Virgo season bc Virgo is the hermit. And you’re all too familiar with going off the grid for your own peace and self discovery.

🌸you have a lot of self control and have been, will be, and or ARE purging anything that isn’t aligned with where you want to be. You may look at your social media timeline in annoyance or disgust and may just unconsciously take time away from media instance all together bc it’s getting kinda crazy out here.

🌸 I see you trying to spread the word of truth and divine consciousness to others and they’re just not getting it thru their thick skulls. It’s making you feel like your wasting your breath.

🌸 practice breath work and mind to muscle connection whether that’s pranayama breathing, yoga, Tai-Chi, reading, expanding your vocabulary, and picking up a new language. This will balance your brain hormones to gain back total self control and awareness .

🌸 you aren’t too intrigued and impressed with what the current state of the world has to offer nowadays. You’re really rare (as affordable health care lol like big Sean said 🤭)

🌸 you dress really nice and have a style of your OWN. Some people wear what they like and some wear what feels comfortable, you do both but not the way everyone else does. It’s hard for me to explain, but even if you’re wearing some of the most basic pieces of clothing, due to your personality, your sense of humor, your magnetic aura, and that je ne sais quoi you are alluring, magnetic, captivating, and radiant.

🌸 everyone is looking to be liked or accepted bc they’re finding themselves and most don’t like theirselves or are looking for the next person to be like. Be careful bc you attract energy vampires and weak spirits that look to leach off you.

🌸 anyone in a toxic energy especially new people you meet or randoms love bombing you are conduits for past life energies you’ve slain or have overthrown due to survival of the fittest. These entities are possessing these unhealed people to come back for vengeance but honestly as many times as you’ve overthrown those demons they can’t even compete with you; just keep alert you’ll probably laugh it off

🌸🌸

3️⃣

👁️👁️‍🗨️🧿

👁️ this is so funny because you’re always here for a good time not a long and bc of that you are being picked apart. Everyone wants to be weird towards you yet always wants you around bc you’re the main character and you’re the most interesting person in the room. So if you’re not around it isn’t the same, people need you to feel more secure, but in way that’s toxic to you.

👁️‍🗨️you have been actively pushing the boundaries just to see who has your best intentions. You have released fear and anxiety in attempts to fully live in your truth for yourself. Life is too short to live it for people who don’t want to accept you for you who are but instead try to fit you inside a box of their own standards. Continue to push the envelope of others standards even if it may start something bc that’s what happens wen you stand up for yourself against weak minded i individuals.

🧿 say “I live for my destiny. I release fear of judgement. I am focused on my highest good. I release attachment to whatever is causing me to second guess myself. I know what is best for me.”

👁️in the dreamworld you’ve been having those funny dreams again where you see people you haven’t spoken to or seen and probably have forgotten about. You’ve aligned somehow but the astral plane is a reflection of reality. The impression you leave is everlasting to where you’re reminisced about believe it or not. This is a way for people to spy on you, but a lot of people wear masks and wouldn’t openly tell you how great you are, how you inspire them, or how they truly felt in injustices of injustices against you due to their insecurities.

👁️‍🗨️protect yourself from the suns rays and mosquitoes, you are being spiritually attacked, anything will be used to weaken your defenses. Pay attention to esoteric and spiritual symbolism like random bugs n your house or flies and dead insects. One time I woke up and looked on my front porch there was a squirrel carcass. Protect your front door frame with salt.

🧿 everything you do is being criticized and although you may not care , it’s like an animal stalking it’s prey n the night, don’t find yourself slipping stay on your P’s and your Q’s. If you get into moods that aren’t normal like randomly feeling lethargic, sad, lonely, etc know this is how you’re being attacked and use selenite and quartz crystals, salts and salt baths to clear your energy.

👁️those who’ve done wrong by you will be receiving karma if they haven’t already bc these people’s hearts are not impure but their challenge was to choose the better path and instead they chose to rest in their lower desires aka demons

👁️‍🗨️you will be slaying alot of demons esp n the dream state and the funny thing is when you think of demon slayers like the anime or shows like supernatural, it won’t be from a dark shadow point of view. It’ll depict everyday life as in a conversation, or dealing with weirdo enemy who want to see you insecure vulnerable and broken

🧿someone was mean to you on purpose, probably bc their jealous. Half of them can’t help it, but at the same time we all have free will. You should check pile 2 bc I made a reference about a 2 sided coin. You have a strategy that others have failed to realize in the past. If everyone was playing a game for the sake of it, you have a game plan and now it’s like wen SpongeBob and Patrick wanted to look at Mr. krabs map. Bc you see the beauty in most things you wield a special power bc you are self led. Your ego doesn’t define you bc you control that bih. You use it to your advantage and no wen to play at the right time and wen to withdrawal. Whatever code they think they’re gonna steal from you it’s too late bc 1. They just can’t perform it properly but atp it’s game over.

👁️ beware of monitoring spirits like flies and gnats. Take note of what animals you come across in nature or constantly see in general, research the meaning of that spirit totem.

👁️👁️‍🗨️🧿

[boldlyvoid]

Where There is Love, There is Life | Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Choice | for @elriel-month 2024

Summary: Elain trains, Azriel Gossips, and Lucien learns the truth.

Warnings: made up Daglan lore, mentions of HOFAS, history of bonds, Helion and Lucien talk

Word Count: 6k | Masterlist

Sitting in Helion’s personal library once again, there is a sheet of paper, an ink well and pen, and a stack of books almost as tall as Elain. And that’s just what Helion has deemed important for todays lesson. The walls are covered in books, well, 3 of them are. The fourth is dedicated to a chalkboard adorned with thoughts, theories and numbers she doesn’t yet understand. 

“Now that we’ve gone over astrology, did you happen to get all the birthdays of your inner circle?” Helion asks, pushing the pen and paper towards her. 

“I thought we were doing numerology today?” Elain asks, realizing she never brought the sheet of paper with the dates on it. 

“We are,” he smiles. Today’s one of the rare hot days in spring, so her eyes dart from his smile to his big muscled arm that he has on show. The shirt he’s wearing can barely be considered a shirt at this point; it just covers his nipples and stomach… but she’s not complaining. 

“Then why—

“Everyone has a life path number, which you get by adding up the numbers of one birth month and day,” he continues. “The easiest way to learn how to calculate the number is through repetition. So, start with your own and then your sisters; we can move on to the bat boys in a moment.” 

The term makes her smile. She straightens her back, grabs the pen, and starts to write. “My birthday is May 16th.” 

“It is?” He lights up. “Well, we’ll have to throw you a party, then!” 

“Oh, no, no, it’s okay,” she waves him off. “I might go home for the day.” 

He nods, “Or we could invite your court here? There is a beautiful plot of land my Pegasus frequents. It’s lush with flowers and fruit trees; I think it would be the perfect spot to celebrate you.” 

She blushes; it sounds magnificent. “If it’s not too much—

“It would never be too much,” he assures her. “Now, May is already a single number. You’ll have to add 1 and 6 together…” 

“So 5 plus 7,” she starts to write. “My number is 12.” 

“It can also be simplified down to 3,” he smiles. “Out of everyone I’ve ever met, you radiate 3 more than I’ve ever thought possible.” 

He pulls a book from the pile, flips through some pages and slides it in front of her. “See here; people with life path number 3 are creative spirits driven by their infinite imagination. Which is why the cauldron must’ve gifted you with sight. It knew you could see the wildest visions and still decode them.” 

She continues to read the pages, absorbing the knowledge— some of it does sound like her. Like not being able to pick a singular hobby but rather jumping back and forth between everything she enjoys. She would go crazy without baking, gardening and cross-stitching. An independent, free spirit, she’s not restrained by others' expectations of her. Yet, she also loves being around people. Having friends outside of her sisters for the first time has truly changed her life. She felt so lost without Nuala and Cerridwen; she misses them so much right now. She’ll have to ensure they come for her birthday and not lift a finger the whole day! They deserve a break.

“Anything sticking out?” Helion asks. 

She nods, “a few things… I’m definitely unable to stay organized. Ask Feyre; my greenhouse is a mess on a good day.” 

“Speaking of the High Lady, what is her birthday?” 

“December 21st,” she starts to write it down. “December is 12, so that becomes 3… the 21st also becomes 3, so her number is 6.” 

“Exactly,” Helion beams. “Were you this good in school, too?” 

“All 7 years that I was able to go,” she says with a sigh. “I learned what was important, my mother said that once I was married I’d only need to focus on keeping a house together. She said I’d never need advanced math.” 

Helion presses his lips together awkwardly, “Well, at least this math isn’t hard.” 

She simply flips the pages, finding the information on the meaning of 6… which is exactly how she would describe her sister. She starts to laugh at it; it’s way too accurate. 

“As a child and young adult, responsibility was always there on your 6 Life Path, but you may have rebelled against it,” she reads. “You will learn a lot about parenting in this life time. But you are also here to create, to learn that creativity has many forms, and is not confined only to creating a biological family.”

Helion smiles. “She did make a son as beautiful as her paintings.” 

“That she did,” Elain sighs, chest full of pride. 

The 6 Life Path teaches you that you are primarily accountable to yourself, that family members and relatives do not own each other, and that love thrives when it is able to flow freely in all directions.

She’s always loved her sisters and always will… however loving them became a lot easier when they weren’t all sharing a bed. Knowing Feyre is on the other side of her massive mansion of a home, knowing she could just walk to her when she needs her, that’s a blessing. Knowing Nesta is just a quick trip to the House of Wind, living her best life with people who love her, that’s all she’s ever wanted for Nesta. 

Being apart somehow brought them closer together. 

“Nesta is April 13th,” she says, starting to write once again. “4 and 4 is 8… she has an 8-pointed star on her back.”

Helion’s eyes widen, “like the lost sword Gwydion.” 

She nods, not allowing her face to change at all. It sure was still lost… it’s totally not in Nesta’s possession.

She turns back a page, finding it interesting that she and her sisters are so close in number and yet such polar opposites of each other. That’s life, though. 

“The path of Empowerment,” she reads, filled with pride, once more… it fades when she starts to read and it gets too real. 

The 8 Life Path signifies a lifetime of investing in yourself and overcoming judgments that stand between you and your strong ambitions. Modern numerology often diminishes 8’s meaning with an almost exclusive focus on material and financial matters. Yes, 8 is the number of power on the physical plain, but it is also the number of true understanding and balance, without which personal power is superficial and material gain is easily lost.

“I love her,” she whispers, trying not to cry. “She struggles in silence and lets it eat at her until that hunger needs to bite at someone else.” 

Helion nods along, “But it’s all about balance. While she may be in her head, thinking she deserves or doesn’t deserve certain aspects of her life… she’s powerful. Not too selfish, she’s able to use her hurt and her experiences to connect. She networks and organizes, and she’s convincing. I heard about her little dance with Eris last year. I saw how she captivated the high lords during the war and managed to change even Berons mind. The bad comes with the good, making her a perfect 8.”

Elain nods along, finding her smile once more. “She is… everything.” 

“Believe me, I know,” he teases. Still hitting on her no matter how long she’s been mated. “Now, do you remember the others?” 

“I believe so… they’re on my desk in my room,” she shares. 

“I’ll have someone bring them to us,” he assures, waving in a servant. 

She writes down Azriel’s. January 27th. An Aquarius, and after her lesson the other day, nothing fits better for him. He lives in his head, thinks outside the box, and has a deep sense of justice. He's an easygoing loner, and he’s an air sign. It’s no wonder he loves to fly. One of a kind with beautiful eyes, they say what they think with great eloquence… that’s her Az. 

His life path number, however, is 1. 

“Ah… of course,” Helion says as he reads over her shoulder. “One typically takes care of themselves, stand on their own two feet and always get what they want.” 

She smirks, blushing again. “He does.” 

Once again, on his page of the book, she reads everything… but it’s not right. “He’s not self-centred or insensitive?” 

“With you,” Helion reminds her. “At work, when he’s the spymaster, the shadowsinger… he has to put himself first; he has to not care because bringing feelings into an interrogation will backfire on him.” 

“I guess,” she continues to read. 

But because 1 is the first number, being at the top – being first – is your natural place. You will gain the maximum satisfaction from this energy when, instead of using it to compete, you use its pioneering vibrations to carve new roads in areas that interest you the most.

“He is the best at what he does,” she can agree with that. “Oh, and it says concentration is one of the splendid gifts a number 1 has. When he’s been given a command, he’s always so focused on getting the job done.” 

“No wonder you’re so happy,” Helion nudges her. 

She shoves him back. “Yes, and It says here: Practice the art of leadership by welcoming and encouraging your ‘following’, while confidently maintaining your position as originator and leader. Others soon realize that you will not be tricked into anything that goes against your grain or best interests.”

“That’s your man,” Helion agrees. Standing from his seat, he meets the servant at the door and takes her note. “The most powerful High Lord was born on the Eve of Samhain… when the veil between worlds is at its thinnest. When magic is at its height.” 

“So his number would be���. October is 10, so that’s a 1, and 31 becomes 4, so he’s a 5,” she says with glee. “He and Feyre are just a number apart.” 

“5s are an interesting breed,” Helion hesitates, sitting back down beside her, he takes a deep breath. “They’re intense, both emotionally and sexually. Their body, mind and emotions are equipped to easily adapt to change… However, they either flourish with the change or are overwhelmed by it. 5s are able to change their inner attitudes and outer appearances to suit different circumstances” 

“That’s my brother-in-law,” Elain laughs. 

The book states: 5 is an active and unpredictable path. It is so filled with sudden and unusual events and opportunities that you sometimes become confused by it or afraid of it. Once in a while, these 5s do let go, or the 5 current becomes so strong that they are swept away into some kind of drama, only to miss the excitement of it all because they believe they are simply out of control. The freedom of 5 starts with a burning desire to live life as fully, freely, and openly as possible and to experience variety, excitement and adventure. And, of course, these desires can only come from within. Refusing to let go of what is safe and familiar so that you can discover alternatives is a large part of what causes a mistake to be repeated. And most 5s do seem to repeat the same old mistakes, often without realizing it. Admitting to your mistakes can be a battle in itself. Accept that mistakes are inevitable in your life because that is how 5s learn and prosper.

“I’m going to need a scribe to copy this for him,” Elain teases. “He could learn a thing or two.” 

Helion smirks, crossing his arms as he sits back in his chair. “Have you ever been on the wrong end of one of his decisions?” 

“Just last week,” she shares. “He thought it was okay to tell Az to stay away from me so he could keep a good connection with Lucien and the Human Queen, Vassa. Not taking into account that fact that I may want say in my future.” 

Helion nods slowly, “Sounds like Rhysand.” 

She lets it roll off her shoulders, “I settled it. He’s learning, albeit slowly, but he’s learning how to deal with the Archeron sisters.” 

“How does Cassian deal with you all? Being a Cancer and all,” he pushes the paper towards her. 

“July 9th…” she reads aloud. “That would be 7 and 9, so 16 becomes 7.” 

“Perfectionists, prone to secrecy, but as they get older, that need to protect themselves goes away,” Helion explains. “Knowing Cassian as long as I have, he had a hard time trusting people to be as good as he was; he did work while with his legion because he knew that he would be the one to get shit done right.” 

“And now he’s accepted that the rest of us are there to help him and he’s not alone,” Elain smiles softly. “What else?” She asks as she flips in the book. 

“Deep thinker, a cleaver planner… he’s the orchestrator. It’s why he leads armies and he will go down in history as the best warrior since Enalius.” 

She finds a passage that is so Cassian, she sits up straighter as she reads it: Your intuition enables you to sense and feel your way through life. Positive results will follow when you learn to rely on the combined voice of your thoughts and feelings. While others sit perplexed by a problem, you can produce the right answer, instinctively, in one intuitive flash. And once you have the solution, your intuition will take you inward and backward to show you how you arrived at it.

Helion nods along. “Numerology is one of my favourite aspects of divination. Numbers are everywhere, you’ll start noticing them more and more now that you’ve learned this.” 

“How so?” 

“You’ll notice that you look at the clock at specific times every day, without real reason. You’ll notice things come in packs of 3 or 8 or 12. You might even have numbers in your dreams…. And in visions, speaking of which, have you had any since you’ve been here?” 

She shakes her head, “No, I haven’t had one in a few weeks. They only come to me when they want to.” 

He hums, “okay… Tomorrow, I wanted to do some hydromancy, but I think it’s time we look more into clairvoyance and clairaudience. Both are extrasensory perception; the mother or the cauldron or whatever you believe in either whisper the future into your ears or show you glimpses of the future.” 

“I have had both,” she assures. “During the war, I had no idea what was happening and while I kept seeing the firebird who ended up being Vassa, the ravens were first whispered to me. I kept hearing ‘the ravens are coming’ and it confused me so much.” 

Helion starts looking around at all his personal books, reading the titles, but he cannot find what he wants. “I’m going to have a book delivered to your room tonight,” he explains. “You don’t have to read it all. However, it will be a good introduction to what we will be discussing soon.” 

She nods, “are you sure we should have a large lesson tomorrow, given that Lucien is coming?” 

His eyes widen, as if he forgot that was happening. “What if we meet here at dawn? You can join me for my meditation to get in the zone for the day and I’ll have breakfast dropped off here so we can begin early.” 

She nods, “I would like that.” 

—

Azriel’s shadows are like a second skin to him after 500 years. He almost doesn’t notice when they come and go, not until they’re whispering secrets and warnings to him. It takes a while for him to realize that his shadows disappear around Elain. They can find her, they can follow her if he asks, yet when she’s close, they leave. He’s not sure if it’s for privacy or because they know he’s completely safe with her… out of everyone in the world, Elain is the only person he’s truly safe with. 

When he returns to the day court, his shadows simply say that she’s in the library and dissipate. 

He heads to the main library, the first of many in the day court, the closest to the palace. Inside, he can’t scent her over the smell of old books… yet there is a hint of Ash. His shadows come rushing back, worried for him after everything he’s been through in the last few years. He’s been hit with more ash arrows and faebane in the last 3 years than he has in his whole life, which is saying something. 

He follows the smell, a hand on the truth teller as he approaches an alcove. He knows the female sitting at the table, at least from what he can see of her over the stacks of books: Nuan, the Alchemist from the Dawn Court. He knew she’d be here; she had been here all week, researching the Ash family to see all that it could do to the Fae. 

He clears his throat, alerting her to his presence and making her jump in her seat slightly. “Oh, hello, Lord Azriel.” 

He grimaces, shaking his hands, “Please, it’s just Azriel.” 

“Azriel,” she settles with a smile. “Is there something I can help you with?” 

He shakes his head, “I was looking for Elain, I think I have the wrong library.” 

“Ah,” she smiles, having guessed that the high lady’s sister and the spymaster were together. “Well, since you’re here, I have a question.” 

He approaches her, standing beside her work table, “What can I do for you?” 

“I’ve come across a book on the Daglan, the history of the start of Prythian and old folklore,” she explains. “Do you know anything about how they were conquered?”

Az takes a deep breath and assesses if he should tell her. Rhys would be pissed… not as pissed as when Nesta gave Bryce the mask, but still pissed. If answers come from this, however, he might not stay mad for long. 

So Az takes a seat. 

“Where do I even start,” he can’t help but laugh. 

He started when Bryce arrives, explaining their trip to the prison and the history they uncovered. Theia and her daughters, the Daglan, the portals to other worlds… how they concurred worlds and were overthrown only twice and finally destroyed by the portal-jumping half-fae who stole his dagger. He explains how the Daglan corrupted the cauldron and created the monsters now locked in the prison in the night court…. And how the same portals they used to jump worlds brought in the beasts that hunt in The Middle. Beings like the kelpie, the weaver and whatever Amren was before the war. Even Koshcei. 

“Cauldron almighty…” she swears, jaw dropped as her eyes wander, thinking a mile a minute in her mind. “Do you know how they corrupted the cauldron?” 

He shakes his head, “not fully. The original 8 Asteri— that is the Daglan’s true name. They pooled their power together and imbued it into the cauldron… they made the dread trove as well as Gwydion and Truth Teller.”

“Did you learn how to fix it?” Nuan asks, begging for answers just as he did that day he learned all this. “Learn why they did it?”

“No, I did, however, allow one of my shadows to go with Bryce to Midgard. The Asteri, when they were here, there was a tithe to absorb a percentage of our power; in Midgard, they created a parasite to infest the water and stifle their magic until they came of age. The coming of age ceremony was called the drop, once they partook they gave a portion of their power to the Asteri and their powers were unlocked. They were not as powerful as they could be, but they were just enough to live a long, long life. Those who didn’t partake faded away into nothing with age, like a human would.”

“And Bryce defeated them?” 

He nods, “She almost died in the process… which is another way the daglan took power. The power they took in the drop was called first light, the power they take after death is called second light. Once they took it, they didn’t get to go to the forever resting place some believe is out there. They became nothing.” 

Nuan slumps in her seat. Rubbing her hand over her face. “This is so much bigger than a family of trees…” 

Az laughs, “believe me, it was a lot to take in when it was happening. Now, we’re left with the knowledge and no way to fix the cauldron. We don’t even know in what ways they corrupted it; what they changed.” 

“The cauldron holds water,” Nuan reminds him. “They might’ve gotten the idea for the parasite from what ever they did to the cauldron.” 

He hums, thinking about it. “Are you coming to dinner tonight in the great hall?” 

She nods, “why?”

“Elain might be able to tell you about what the water in the cauldron was like,” he explains. “Seeing as she was the first one dunked into it, and she was blessed by it…” 

“Unlike the other sister who stole from it,” Nuan knows. The whole of Prythian knew that the oldest Archeon sister was to be feared for what she did that day. They just don’t know she gave the power back.

“Would I be allowed to see the cauldron?” She asks. 

He takes a deep breath, thinking it over. “Rhys and Feyre will be here in a few days, they, and Helion, can discuss if it’s a safe option for you.” 

She nods, agreeing. “I appreciate the help today. I um… I figured out something, I think it’s something you and Lady Archeron would like to know.” 

“Go on,” he pulls in even closer, anxious to know what she’s uncovered in her days of research. 

“While Ash wood can kill us, the blooming leaves of the Ash tree can be used as a tea. The Daglan did awful, horrific experiments on the fae, all of which were recorded… ingesting the leaves doesn’t maim the drinker. Instead, it gifts them with dreams of their one true love. The Daglan put a stop to the tea the moment they found out what it could do, and now I’m guessing it’s because they corrupted the cauldron to change how bonds work. The dreams would show a true love match; the cauldron now wants powerful offspring because the Dagaln fed from them for so long.” 

It all hits Azriel like a brick wall. “So if I take the tea…” 

“You’ll know the truth,” Nuan smiles. “So will Lady Archeron.” 

—

Feyre and Rhys arrive with Lucien right at noon, greeted by Elain and Helion in the golden courtyard. Helion’s hand is on Elain’s back, and she glances at him, noticing he’s holding his breath while staring at his son. Taking in all his features, noticing all the parts that are himself and what parts are Lucien's mother…, his heart breaks when he sees the scar on his face, knowing there are more scars he keeps inside. 

“Welcome!” Elain takes over for him, breaking away from Helion to meet with him. “Lucien, it’s nice to see you.” 

Surprisingly, she opens her arms and brings him in for a hug. 

He’s a bit shocked, but accepts. Holding her close, smelling Azriel on her. He pulls back with concern on his face, “Did the shadowsinger fly you in?” 

She shakes her head, “he’s been staying here during my training, assuring I stay safe after what happened with the cauldron the last time I started looking for answers.”

It's not a lie, just not the whole truth, either. 

“In your bed?” He chuckles, “I was wondering when you’d finally get together.” 

“You wouldn’t be upset about it?” 

He shakes his head, “I don’t own you; you’re free to make your own choices. I’ve been alive for over 300 years; you haven’t. I’d like to see you make your own choices and mistakes and find happiness.” 

She pulls him in for another hug. " Oh, Lucien, thank you! I expected you to want to follow the cauldron's orders.”

Lucien soaks in the hug, eyes closed as he holds her. “This is the one time I’m not going to blindly follow someone's orders. I’ve learned my lesson.”  

“It’s also why we’re here,” Rhysand says from behind them. “We’ve learned quite a few things about the cauldron, things that you should be made aware of.” 

“The uh, the dining room is all set up for lunch if you’d care to join me in there for this meeting,” Helion finally speaks. “It’s lovely to have you here, Lucien.” 

He reaches out his hand for Helion, “Thank you for inviting me. I’ve always loved visiting the day court.” 

They all agreed it’s completely up to Helion when he tells Lucien; if he ever tells him. This meeting is about the information Nuan found in her research, how to find one's true love and what the Daglan did to mating bonds. 

They gather around the dining table and fill their plates with sandwiches, fruits, and vegetables with dips, cheeses and meats. Its a wonderful spread that his kitchen staff makes on the regular. Elain is going to have to start incorporating these into her own meal rotation at home. 

“What is it you wish to tell me,” Lucien asks between bites. 

Rhysand looks to Elain and then Helion, “Who would like to explain?” 

“I can,” Elain assures, putting down her sandwich and taking a sip of her bubbly wine first before continuing. “Last spring, we had an unexpected visitor in the Night Court. She jumped from her world to ours thanks to the Harp— the 4th forgotten item from the dread trove.”

Lucien's eyes widened. “Is world jumping real? I thought it was a myth?” 

Elain sighs, “It’s very real. You need specific items to do it the right way. However, Bryce was brought here to learn more about her heritage. She was the original Queen Theia’s long-lost ancestor… it turns out that Theia killed Fionn, took the trove and opened a portal to another world that the Daglan had overtaken after they were kicked from our world. There, Theia confirmed that the Daglan, now the Asteri, are just power-hungry monsters who feed off our power. When they were here, they used the cauldron to create deadly weapons, horrible monsters they could hunt for sport, and they corrupted the cauldron to ensure that mate bread more powerful beings they could feed off of.” 

“Holy shit,” Lucien can’t believe it. 

“Nuan, who fixed your eye,” Elain continues, waiting for Luciens mind to catch up, he nods. “She has been doing research for us. The wood of the ash tree is deadly for us, however the Ash tree is a cousin of the olive tree…” 

She picks up an olive with her fork and eats it, “how can one thing kill us and the other be so delicious?” 

“That is a fascinating question,” Feyre says under her breath. 

“Nuan discovered that the Daglan discovered a tea that would allow for the taker to dream of their one true love and those who were able to could then Scry to find them,” she continues with a large smile. “Before the Daglan corrupted the bonds, all mates were assigned together for the purpose of true and happy love. They outlawed the tea because they didn’t want true love bonds anymore, they only wanted powerful offspring.” 

“Are you saying we aren’t a true love bond?” Lucien clues in, shoulders slumping. “I mean, I knew it wasn’t a strong love, I just didn’t expect it to not be true love.” 

Elain shakes her head, feeling sorry for having to break the news to him, “no, the Daglan would collect a tithe from us, taking 10% of our power that we willingly gave to them each year. They wanted a way to still take 10%, they just wanted a stronger 10% so they corrupted the cauldron to make mates who would produce powerful offspring that would satiate them.” 

“Like my parents and Tamlin’s,” Rhysand adds. “They did not love each other; they have just been born through the generations to continue to make powerful children, even after the Daglan left.” 

“How do we fix it?” Lucien asks. 

“We’re still working on that,” Helion jumps in. “Elain is still learning all that she can do with her power so we can attain more answers.”

“So far, I’ve learned basic divination, meditation and relaxation, tarot, astrology, and my favourite has been numerology,” she beams at him. “When is your birthday?” 

“Um, October 3rd,” he shares. “My mother tried to have all of us in the autumn.”

Helion stares at his plate, moving around his side salad and not saying anything. 

“So that would make you a life path number 4,” Elain explains. “Life path number 4’s spend most of their life looking for their true identity. You find accomplishment through hard work. You have great self-discipline. 4 teaches the value of determination, effort, simplicity, and dependability.”

He nods along, slowly taking it all in. “That… that sounds right. What would someone born on January 1st be?”

“A 2,” Elain answers without missing a beat, making Helion smile. 

“She is the best student I’ve ever had,” he compliments, staring right at Feyre. “I don’t want to give her back.” 

“I’ll come visit you,” Elain assures him. 

“What does 2 mean?” Lucien wonders, something like urgency on his tone.

“Um,” she looks to Helion for a bit of support. He nods his head slightly, reminding her that she’s got this. “the energy of 2 does not seek to control but to achieve balance. Those born on the 2 Life Path have the potential to lead the way for humanity through their refined powers of persuasion, their ability to inspire on an emotional level, and most importantly, their desire to bring equality and peace to this planet.”

Lucien blushes slightly, looking down at his plate. “She is going to change the world.” 

“Who?” Feyre asks, sitting up straighter. Happy for her friend.

“Vassa,” Lucien beams. “Don’t tell her, but I’m— I think I’m falling in love with her.” 

Elain places her hand on her heart, “This is wonderful news, Lucien!” 

“Thank you. I’m excited to take this tea now, to see if my true love match is her… even if it isn’t, even if it was Jesminda, I still want to be with Vassa.” 

“We’re still looking into her curse,” Helion assures him. “I’ll do anything I can to help you get to keep her.” 

“Thank you, Helion,” Lucien smiles. 

They look so similar it blows Elain’s mind. How does he not see it? It should be like looking in a mirror for him. 

“The teas will be delivered to our rooms tonight,” Elain assures. “We are all taking it. Some has even been sent back to Nesta and Cassian to check. Morrigan and Amren are taking it as well.” 

“What does this mean for you two?” Lucien asks Feyre and Rhys. 

They look at each other and smile. Rhys is quick to hold her hand above the table, “we know the truth. This love we have between us in unbreakable.” 

“I personally believe that the reason why mating has become so hard. People were shocked to find out that all 3 of us were mated so soon after becoming fae. It’s unheard of for a whole family to find a mate.” Feyre adds. “The Cauldron picked up to help it. I think the cauldron misses when it was dedicated to giving out love and life to these lands.” 

“So we bring it back,” Helion announces, holding up his glass. “No matter what it takes, we bring true love back to Prythian.” 

Everyone raises their glasses in response, dedicated to the task at hand. 

—

That night she sits in bed beside Azriel, a mug of steaming tea in both of their hands. “Are you sure?” She asks. 

“I want to know… even if it’s not you; even if I’m meant for no one, I want to know and love you anyway,” Azriel assures. 

“And if we do dream of each other?” 

Azriel’s eyes soften; he’s more beautiful than ever before. “Then we’ll know why we’ve wanted one another so badly.” 

“Do you think this tea will make us tired or just aid in our dreams when we do fall asleep?” She asks. 

A knowing smirk grows on his face, “Why?” 

She takes another sip and places her almost empty cup on her night table; Azriel follows her lead and does the same. She quickly straddles his hips, hands on his shoulders, “because I would like to remind you just how badly I’ve wanted you all this time.” 

—

Elain and Azriel are the last to arrive at the breakfast table the nest morning. Hand in hand, matching smiles plastered to their faces. 

They dreamt of each other last night. 

Feyre is sitting in Rhys’ lap, being hand-fed cantaloupe while Lucien laughs. Helion shakes his head with a smile. "Well, I take it you had good dreams?” the golden High Lord asks.

Elain nods, “We had the same dream… us and our daughter playing in the grass behind our home on the Sidra.” 

Feyre places a hand to her heart, “the same girl you’ve seen before?” 

“You’ve seen her before?” Azriel can’t believe it. 

Elain nods, “We adopt her from Illyria, seeing as I can’t have babies for us.” 

Azriel kisses her head, “we’ll create the family we deserve.” 

They take a seat side by side, across from Lucien, “So, what did you dream of?” 

“Fire,” Lucien explains, smile building. “Blinding, bright fire that took over all my senses.” 

“Your firebird,” Feyre swoons. 

He nods, overjoyed with love in his eyes, “My firebird… Helion, who did you see?” 

He takes a deep breath, thinking it over. “I saw my mate… Seraphina.” 

“That’s my… mother’s—“ Lucien blinks in understanding. “What?” 

Helion simply nods. “I met her a year before she was betrothed to Beron. We met again during the great war, and… we had a love affair that lasted over a hundred years. Beron never knew, not until the end, when she became pregnant.” 

Lucien's mechanical eye closes in on Helion, studying him. “You’re… my father?” 

Helion nods. “I didn’t know. Not until last week.” 

“Does my— does Beron know?” 

Helion shrugs, “I’m not certain. However, his level of cruelty to you, from what I’ve heard, could be explained by knowing you’re not his blood.” 

“Then where does—

“Your mother was sold to your father to ensure that the fire in her veins passed on to all his children. He wanted the strongest brood and would do anything to get it.” 

“Why didn’t you do anything about it? Why didn’t you challenge him?” Lucien begs, “You know he hurts her, and you do nothing?” 

“What do you do?” Helion challenges him right back. “Beron is not a man I would like to mess with unless absolutely necessary. Your mother asked me not to intervene. She asked me to let nature take its course, and she said when the time was right when he died, she could come back to me.” 

Lucien just shakes his head, “I wish he would die tomorrow.” 

“We all do,” Rhys murmurs, reminding the men that there are others in the room, still. 

Lucien calms, shaking his head as it all settles around him. “So I’m… I’m heir to the day court?” 

Helion nods, “you are… I’ve heard your fire is bright, almost white. That you can winnow and you run like the wind. I wonder if there’s more light to you, if when you become truly happy... if you’ll glow like myself and Feyre do.” 

“I’ve…. I’ve glowed,” Lucien admits. “I thought it was… I’m not sure what it was.” 

Clearly lying, he doesn’t seem comfortable enough to share. 

“How about we leave you two,” Elain announces, standing with her plate now filled with food. “My chambers have a sitting room; we can move there. Let them bond.” 

“Fantastic idea,” feyre is quick to her feet, feeling just as awkward as everyone else. “I’d love to hear more about your dreams.” 

@greenleaf777 @lostvillainess

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @buckleyhans @mrs-ssa-hotch @ssavanessa22

[annoyinglandmagazine]

Maedhros 🔶️

Thank for the ask! I think I did the quirks and hobbies already for Maedhros but I’m happy to do another one!

Maedhros writes a concerning amount of letters. Like people have noticed and commented on the bizarre amount of his dealings that are done through epistolary. Less a case of ‘this meeting should have been an email’ and more a case of ‘this chain of letters is long enough to be a novel and I could have gotten to Himring and just had a meeting with you in far less time.’

The reasons for this are complicated but one of the main ones is language. Obviously Maedhros speaks Sindarin fluently but it’s not perfect. This of course being the Feanorian linguistic standard for perfect with Nelyo’s own golden child perfectionism added in. So when he doesn’t know precisely the word that has the correct connotations in a conversation it entirely throws him off his rhythm. Because yes he gives good speeches in any language and still gets his point across but it sounds better in Quenya. So he spends hours pouring over dictionaries and essays, trying to work out the way to make things sound and convey exactly what he wants to get across with exactly the right amount of subtlety and respect because this used to be so easy for him and he can’t afford for his political skills to be anything less than his best right now when he needs to compensate for everyone being predisposed to think of all he says as the words of a heartless kinslayer. He didn’t pick Himring because it was a hard and cold journey for people to make to meet with him in person but it doesn’t hurt matters either. This way he can draft and redraft everything he says and in doing so almost replicate the skill he would have had before. Another factor is that on rare occasions he gets triggered by something and spaces out or breaks off mid sentence and he really doesn’t want that to happen during negotiations.

A downside of this is security, Maedhros is most definitely wary of people intercepting messages and getting classified information. So, of course, being his paranoid self Maedhros decides to experiment with encrypted letters for any remotely sensitive information. So on top of receiving five letters a month now all his correspondents have to become code breakers as well. Some take better to this than others. Fingolfin and the Sindar find it slightly odd but dismiss it and employ someone to decode them before putting it on their desks. Fingon makes a game of it and tries to see what’s the most risqué letter he can send through all the official channels without anyone noticing something amiss. His brothers naturally get competitive over who can come up with the most ridiculously impractical code to write to their brother in before he realises they’re messing with him and not just concerned about security.

[maria021015]

Part 29 of convincing you to read my Stiles x oc fanfic using dialogue from ‘Rising Tides’.

Stiles: I don’t know what I did, but I know I did something. I’m telling you, Scott. She’s mad at me. I haven’t seen her since we got back to town.

Scott: Didn’t you say her brother grounded her?

Stiles: Yeah, but it’s been two weeks and she hasn’t tried to sneak out once.

Scott: Maybe she’s just following the rules.

Stiles: (insistently showing phone) But her replies to my messages have been really weird. Look!

Scott: (hesitantly) This just looks like a normal conversation…She’s still responding to you, right?

Stiles: (sighs philosophically) Scotty boy, there’s something you gotta learn, and it’s that not all girls are like Allison. She might completely cut you off when she’s mad at you, which makes it easy for you to tell, but most of them don’t do that. Most of them - like Zaida - will tell you it’s fine when really nothing is fine, and everything is about to explode in your face! Look, there’s no pop-culture references, or little rants about movie plot holes, and it’s all grammatically correct.

Scott: (confused) Why does the grammar have anything to do with it?

Stiles: (irritably) Because, Scott, usually when she messages she gets all excited about what she has to say so she ends up making a bunch of spelling and grammatical errors. Sometimes her sentences don’t even make any sense. But these all make perfect sense. Ergo, she’s absolutely furious and plotting all the ways she’s going to completely eviscerate me when she gets un-grounded.

Scott: Has anyone ever told you that you’re unnecessarily dramatic?

Stiles: Yeah, all the time, but what does that have to do with anything?

Scott: *internally face palms*

Stiles: I texted Lydia to ask her if she knew if Zaida was okay, and she said nothing was wrong! Can you believe that?

Scott: Believe what? Doesn’t that mean that she’s fine and you’re overthinking it? (Backtracking in realisation) Wait a minute, you got Lydia’s number, and instead of gushing about that for hours you’ve been decoding Zaida’s messages like some kind of Shakespearean book?

Stiles: Okay first off, that means that Zaida’s not just upset in general, she’s just mad at me specifically, which is infinitely worse. Secondly, Shakespeare wrote plays, not books. And thirdly, YES, keep up!

Scott: Right…And are you sure you still like Lydia?

Stiles: (ranting spiritedly) Yeah, duh. What does my hopeless crush have to do with anything? I’m not talking about Lydia right now, I’m talking about Zaida, and the fact that she’s going to use her powers to cook me from the inside out like a Stiles-sized microwave dinner!

Stiles: *blinks* Oh, shit.

Scott: ‘Use her powers’? What powers? I thought she still wasn’t presenting?

Stiles: Yeah…about that…So, we kind of discovered that the reason why she didn’t turn into a werewolf when Peter bit her was because she was already something else. You know how I told you I couldn’t hang out because I was sick with the flu? Well actually, I took her to her beach house in Monterey and we found her family’s Bestiary in a secret room hidden behind a bookshelf, which told us that she comes from a long line of Nymphs.

Scott: (outraged) You guys did what? You’ve both been working on this for how long? Who else knows?

Stiles: Just us two and Lydia. Oh, and Derek kind of knows a little, I guess. Which means Isaac probably knows a bit too. (Cringes) But Allison definitely doesn’t know anything.

Scott: So Allison and I are the only two people who had no idea about any of this?

Stiles: Look, she just wanted to figure it all out before she told you guys. Or, at least, before she told you. She doesn’t want to tell Allison anything because she’s convinced she’ll get another crossbow bolt to somewhere a bit more important this time - like her face - and I’m not yet entirely sure that she’s wrong.

BONUS

Stiles: Apparently, this is just the beginning of her power. Deaton thinks it can extend to being able to manipulate emotions too and project feelings onto other people.

Scott: Deaton knows too?!

Stiles: *blinks* Oh. Yeah, I forgot to mention him.

Stiles: Sorry, buddy. But hey, in our defence, you neglected to tell us that you were conspiring with Gerard and double-crossing him by slipping wolfsbane into his pills. So, I guess we’re even now.

[morpheusdreamt]

Ty @camillekaze for tagging me on this! It was fun to do and I always love sharing music with people 🥰

Rules: Shuffle your on repeat playlist and post the first 10 tracks, then tag 10 people!

1. Cherry Waves - Deftones

Ive been on a huge deftones kick lately and yall already know i’m a sucker for the ocean/waves pulling you under as a motif for obsession

2. Sugar - Remi Wolf

A song that i’ve got a huge soft spot for, literally unskippable, listened to it a lot when i was going through it at the beginning of last year (and am happy to say things have gotten better/easier since 💖)

3. Harvey - Her’s

A sweet jam and i dedicate to the bestest sdv bachelor ever (in my extremely biased opinion)

4. First Time- Hozier

Im so obsessed with this man, yall have no idea (or maybe you do lmao) This one was an instant hit for me “How before I heard it from your mouth, my name would always hit my ears as such an awful sound” literally FELT. Also bought a shirt that i later found out had lyrics to this song on it and that really got me 😭

5. Softly - Arlo Parks

A bittersweet break up song that is such an earworm, always gets stuck in my head when im getting up in the mornings

6. King For A Day - Pierce The Veil

An emo classic! Perfect for when you feel like screaming at the world 😌 been going to emo nite a lot lately and it’s always one you’re bound to hear at some point if you go

7. Decode - Paramore

team edward 4ever sorry not sorry (this song also just like, seriously fucks, its so moody. Another emo classic!)

8. ヘリクツBOY - Jun Togawa

This one is just fun! Another that gets stuck in my head a lot

9. Sea, Swallow Me - Cocteau Twins

Literally all about the vibes, one of my favs by them and what got me into cocteau twins

10. Jesus Don’t Like That I’m Gay but Satans Cool With It - Lil Boodang

Obsessed with this song, OBSESSED. Found it on soundcloud and its got everything: catchy hook, whiny vocals, hall & oates are there.

i’ll tag @jake-marshall @dweebpheles @yagottabelieve and @supernovajazzy (tho no pressure either) as well as whoever feels like doin it! ✨

[tweekfilms]

there’s nothing left to decode

can you believe there’s just one more part to my secret au. i can’t believe its ending tomorrow also a heads up there is going to be a one year time jump here

a year later and it seems like nothing has changed much or well maybe it has but it just hasn’t hit him.

for starters, chase decided that he didn’t want to own any company so he gave it to alex and his family and that was the best decision he made

also karolina moved out from the apartment and moved into another one with nico and yes there were tears but you know.

molly ended up moving in with him and gert and it was probably the best decision she made well those were molly’s words

lastly, gert and him pretty much transitioned from boyfriend and girlfriend to fiances to the point in which chase couldn’t stop saying it

right now though, he was visiting his dad in prison, luckily he got the consequence he deserved for everything he had done but chase still needed closure and that was the last step for it.

“i thought you weren’t ever going to speak to me again” his dad started

“neither did i but here we are” chase shrugged

“i wouldn’t waste your time then, there’s nothing left to say” his dad looked at him sternely

“i know but i just want to know why ?” chase asked

“why what” his dad looked confused

“why do everything you did? why ruin my life” chase asked more firmly

“i tried to keep our family together. i tried to give you everything but yet…” his dad tried to explained

“you don’t do that by stealing other people’s work, by having an affair behind your wife’s back and certainly not by leaving your own son in a car after an accident” chase argued

“you know i regret that day. when you disappered for six years” his dad said

“you made my life miserable when i came back. how am i supposed to believe you when your actions speak louder than words” chase shook his head

“i was supposed to be your father not…whatever i was that day. and you don’t have to believe me” his dad sighed

chase nodded. while he couldn’t tell the emotion on his face, he might be telling the truth but after everything… it might not be true.

“look all i wanted to know was why and i got the answer i needed even though it wasn’t really a good one but that’s all i wanted. and i can’t forgive you and i know that makes me a hypocrite because i don’t like not forgiving but at some point i need to stop at least allowing forgiveness for people who don’t deserve it” chase said his final words to his father before leaving

luckily gert was waiting for him outside and she gave him a hug

“you did good” gert smiled at him softly

“well i needed closure and now i got it” chase smiled sadly

“are you sure. you seem sad” gert asked

“i just… its hard knowing that your parents are completely different people especially after everything that’s happened this past year. i basically lost my family” chase sighed

“you have us and i know its not your mom and dad but we’re here and we care about you” gert reminded him

“i know, i think its just the wedding planning that’s making me think hard about this” chase said

“it happens to the best of us and frankly i would have been on the same boat if i was in your place” gert agreed

“i’m content with everything now. our life and everything and i wouldn’t trade it for anything else” chase smiled

“good because if you said something otherwise then i would have called off the wedding” gert teased him

“hey what the fuck” chase pouted

“im joking i would never” gert laughed

“good because you’re stuck with me now” chase playfully pointed to his ring again

“i know” gert’s smile was so bright that chase was going to melt

the silence continued between the two of them before gert asked

“so is there anything left for you to decode”

“no, i think everything’s already been resolved” chase said this time with absolute certainity

[writingsofwerewolves]

I'm only uh... two years late posting this. 😅 Hopefully y'all when understand why when you read it.

I ended up not censoring anything so uh. yeah. Enjoy this sex scene with my self insert character, Damian, and Vikram. This was a really early thing I wrote, while I was still getting comfortable writing sex, so please be kind. 🥺

~

I was ready at ten on the dot, but still my heart raced when a message came in saying “I’m here. No hurry if you need more time.” Taking a deep breath, I stepped into my garage and opened the garage door. As it slid slowly open, it revealed a sleek black car in my driveway.

Trying desperately to keep my heart under control, I walked purposefully towards the panel with the garage’s keypad. Ignoring the man getting out of the car, I pressed the button to close my garage. When the door started closing, I faced him.

I’d already seen him in our video chat, so his appearance didn’t surprise me. Black curly hair, brown eyes, and a tentative smile.

“Indigo,” he greeted, “It’s good to see you in person.”

“We should… go before my parents see us out the window,” I commented.

“Of course,” he inclined his head. He moved around the car and opened the passenger door for me, “After you.”

“Th-thanks,” I stuttered as I got in. The car smelled of new leather.

Damian got in the drivers’ seat as I buckled my seatbelt and pulled out of my driveway without another word. I fidgeted with the strings of my hoodie.

“If there’s anything I can do to help with your anxiety, please let me know,” Damian offered softly.

I swallowed hard and nodded.

“Would you like to have music going?” he asked.

“Sure.”

He grinned and turned on the stereo. My eyes widened and then I glared at him.

“What, it’s a good song,” he shrugged innocently.

“Supermassive Blackhole… Really? Really?”

“It worked,” he smirked, “You’re distracted.”

“You’re evil.”

“And now you have visions of vampires playing baseball in your head. So it worked.”

I rolled my eyes, “You’re gonna be even more insufferable than I thought.”

“That sounds like a challenge… I accept.”

“Is Decode gonna play next?”

“Of course.”

“Lovely.”

“With the ice successfully broken, is there anything you want to know before we get there?”

My heart raced as I considered everything I wanted to know, but mainly one thing was on my mind.

“How do I know you’re really who you say you are?” I whispered.

“Beyond what I’ve told you, I don’t know. I can prove I’m a vampire, but I don’t know how much that’s worth.”

“It’s worth something.”

“Do you want me to prove it now?”

I chewed my lip.

“Probably should before we get too far from your house,” he commented. “I’ll pull over.”

He found a wide shoulder and pulled the car over before facing me.

“This may scare you,” he warned, his eyes nervous, “Seeing it can trigger a…”

“Visceral reaction?” I questioned.

“Exactly. Maybe I should take you at least back to your neighborhood so if you run, you can get home.”

“I’m not running.”

“You say that… I never know how well people will handle seeing this.”

“I’m not running,” I repeated, “If you’re trying to talk me out of it because you’re not really a vampire and this is all a scam…”

“No, I’m really a vampire.”

“Then put your fangs where your mouth is,” I crossed my arms, fighting a smile.

He laughed appreciatively, “Alright.”

In the darkness of the night, Damian's eyes started to glow red. He opened his mouth wide enough so I could see long fangs emerge.

He was right about the visceral reaction. Something in my stomach twisted. Maybe a part of me knew I was seeing the ultimate predator for humans. A hunter. A danger. But I didn’t run.

The red glow faded and the fangs retracted, “What do you think?”

“I think you’re a vampire,” I confirmed.

“Ready to continue?” he asked.

I nodded and he pulled the car back onto the road.

“Anything else we should address?”

“No, I’m still coping with the vampire thing…” I admitted as Full Moon played.

“Understandable. How is that going?”

“You’re… a vampire.”

“I am,” he agreed with a laugh, “Any thoughts on the subject?”

“Are you going to bite me?”

“Not without permission.”

“With permission, you would?”

Damian grinned at me, “At some point, yes. I don’t want you to feel pressured into it. That’s only something I would do if you thought you’d enjoy it.”

“There’s no… practical reason why you would?”

He frowned suddenly, “I feed on Vikram regularly. I’m in no danger of starving.”

“That’s not a no.”

“Is there a reason you think I would need to feed on you?”

I looked out the window.

“The issue is,” he began slowly, “I don’t know how much you know. Clearly you know the basics. Far more than you should since you are not an After. I don’t know where the line is, Indigo.”

“So there is a reason you’d feed on me?”

“I won’t if you wouldn’t enjoy it, no matter what practical reasons there may be.”

“Is there a practical reason?” I pressed.

He hesitated before saying, “Yes. Your blood would let me go in sunlight safely.”

I let my breath out in a whoosh.

“That wasn’t something I planned to tell you so soon,” he admitted, “I didn’t want you to feel any sort of pressure.”

“I already knew.”

“That’s unfortunate…”

“You planned to lie to me?”

“No, just hold that information back until you were more comfortable. If you think being bitten is something you could enjoy eventually, then we can have a discussion about that but I don’t want you to feel you owe me your blood for any reason. I’m fine as things are. I do not need to go in sunlight.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

“Okay?” he frowned at me, seeming suspicious. “What does that mean?”

“It means that’s one of the many things we’ll need to talk about.”

“I see…” His suspicion didn’t ease, “Is there anything else we should discuss? We will be at the house in about ten minutes.”

“I guess… I have a bit of irrational anxiety about something.”

“Alright. What is it?”

“Well, I feel like I should have irrational anxiety about it… Even though we did just cover it, you’re not in any danger of like… attacking me?”

“No, I am not,” Damian said gently. I’d expected him to laugh or something, but he didn’t. He took my question seriously, “I’ve had many years to perfect my self control. I’m only a danger to humans when starved or drained. I can assure you that I’m fully sated right now.”

“So if I were to somehow cut my finger or something…?”

“A paper cut will not put your life in danger, Indigo,” he assured me, “To be perfectly honest, yes blood always appeals to me. But I can control myself.”

“That kinda brings up another question… To get your eyes red and your fangs out, do you have to… think about blood?”

“Ah,” he seemed a little embarrassed, “Yes, I do.”

“Is it too personal to ask what you were thinking about?”

“I certainly wouldn’t recommend asking that of other vampires,” he chuckled, “But I am willing to answer. However, you may find the answer anxiety inducing.”

“I’d like to know.”

“I listened to your heart beat and breathed in your scent,” he explained, “And I did imagine what it would feel like to bite your neck and to taste your blood.”

My heart pounded in my chest and unfortunately lower down.

“Oh,” I squeaked.

He smiled, his eyes firmly on the road, “Does the idea of that appeal to you?”

“You can tell it does,” I grumbled.

“Not necessarily. Things can arouse without actually being appealing. Our bodies are programmed to respond to certain stimuli. It doesn’t mean that stimuli is actually enjoyable.”

“True,” I agreed. I cleared my throat and said, “At the very least, the idea of you thinking about biting me is… exciting.”

“That is something I can work with,” he shot me a grin.

“You mentioned other vampires,” I said quickly, needing a change of subject, “But you told me there weren’t other vampires.”

“Yes, as far as Vikram and I know, there aren’t any vampires or werewolves in this dimension. I just meant in general. I didn’t want to say your question wasn’t too personal, just that I was willing to answer.”

“Got it,” I nodded.

“We’re nearly there,” Damian informed me, “How are you feeling so far?”

“Anxiety filled.”

“There is something I wanted to mention before we got there. I wasn’t sure if I should leave this for Vikram to explain, but I’ve decided you need time to think about it and make a choice first. You know that you’re… a reincarnation of me.”

I nodded.

“That means that you’re Vikram’s mate. I’m sure you’ve read about mates in books like the Grey Wolves series and it’s similar. It means that his touch can give you comfort. It can ease your anxiety. If you want, he can hold your hand or touch you in a way that will help keep you calm.”

“Okay.”

“You… knew that?” he questioned.

I nodded.

“Well then,” he let out a breath, “I don’t know what else we can tell you, then.”

“I didn’t know your names,” I reminded him.

“No, just literally everything else,” he chuckled as he parked the car in front of a house, “Regardless, you should know that Vikram will be willing to help you if you want him to. There is no pressure either way.”

“Thanks. That’s good to know.”

“I’m going to get your door for you,” he stated.

He got out and came around to my door to open it then he led the way up to the front door. I followed him in and he took off his shoes.

“You can keep your shoes or take them off,” he said.

I took them off.

Damian led the way into the house, to the living room where Vikram sat. As we entered, Vikram rose, his eyes on me.

Damian spoke in an unfamiliar language and Vikram nodded.

“It is good to see you, Indigo,” Vikram said, “How are you?”

“F-fine,” I stuttered out. I shuffled my feet uncomfortably.

“Would you like to sit?” he gestured at the couch where he had been sitting.

I nodded and sat. He sat on the couch, but a distance away. Damian sat in a recliner beside the couch.

“Is there anything you would like to ask?” Vikram questioned.

“Uh… a million things, but…”

“You can ask anything of us,” he assured me.

“Well, uh…” I felt a lot more uncomfortable talking to Vikram than Damian, “You’re really a werewolf?”

“I am,” he confirmed.

“I already proved I’m a vampire, so I think it’s your turn, husband,” Damian teased.

Vikram sighed heavily.

“You don’t have to,” I whispered.

“It is not as easy for me,” Vikram said apologetically, “I can shift at will, but it expends a lot of energy and I would be unable to return to this form for approximately an hour. I am willing, but then we could not speak for that time. It is your choice, Indigo. Damian would still be able to answer any questions you had.”

“Not yet,” I said, “It would be nice to know that you’re… telling the truth. But not yet.”

He inclined his head.

“Does it… hurt? To shift?”

“Not anymore. For a long time, shifting was uncomfortable. It comes much more naturally now that I can shift at will, however. Before, I was forced to shift during full moons and could not do so at will.”

“Do you… like or dislike shifting? Now that it’s different?”

He gave a small smile, “I like it. It took time for me to come to that conclusion, but I do like now. It does not feel so much a part of me I have to combat, but rather another side of me I can embrace. For a long time, I was dangerous to be around during full moons and I had to work very hard to control that aspect. It comes much more easily now. Now I can spend full moons with those I love.” He turned to look lovingly at Damian, who smiled back. “Being a werewolf now is not as painful or isolating as it was for many years before.”

I was silent, processing all that and feeling anything I could say would be rude.

He faced me again and said, “I apologize. That was perhaps more than you wished to know.”

“No, that’s… Thank you for telling me. I’m glad being a werewolf isn’t awful for you anymore. I can’t even imagine how hard and… scary it was.”

“Yes,” he mused, “Scary is a good word. I never knew what my body would do. Who I would hurt… But that is in the past. I can assure you I am safe to be around, during the full moon and outside of it.”

“Okay,” I nodded.

“Do you have more questions about my lycanthropy?”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna be invasive…”

“I am an open book, Indigo.”

“Well… What do you look like? When shifted?”

“My werewolf form is very tall. Perhaps eight or nine feet tall on my hind legs, though we have not measured. I have some human characteristics in that form, such as the ability to stand on two legs, and my paws still function decently as hands. Are there specific traits that interest you?”

“No, that covers it. Thanks.”

“This does not seem like it is new information to you,” he commented.

“I’d… kinda… uh…”

“May I ask you a few questions about what you know?”

My heard pounded loudly in my chest.

“It is alright,” Vikram said quickly, reaching for my hand automatically but stopping himself, “You do not need to answer.”

I tentatively held my hand out to him. He smiled and took my hand in his, enveloping it in his warmth. My body instantly responded to his touch. My muscles relaxed, the tension evaporating from my shoulders. I leaned back against the couch and let out a breath.

It was just as I’d written, but I really didn’t expect it to be so quick and thorough.

“Is that because I’m touch starved or because we’re…?”

“Mates?” he finished for me, “Perhaps a combination of the two. Are you alright?”

“Better than alright.”

I felt so good that my evil plan actually felt doable.

“Hold me?” I asked Vikram.

“Of course,” he said and he pulled me to him, so my cheek rested on his chest.

Holding his hand was nice, but being wrapped in his arms was heaven. I inhaled deeply and took in his scent. Beautiful and warm. I wanted to never be without it again.

Actually, I realized, my evil plot was being foiled. I wanted them for sex, but with how he made me feel… I wanted more. But I still wanted sex.

“Wh-what do y’all want from this?” I asked, a little breathless.

“We want for you to be happy, Indigo,” Vikram murmured against my hair, “If you did not want to meet us, we were content with that. And now that you are here, you can choose how to proceed.”

“What if you don’t want what I want?” I mumbled, embarrassed.

“That seems unlikely,” he said and he kissed the top of my head. “Did you have something in mind?”

I nodded against his chest.

“You want us to fuck you,” Damian guessed.

I pulled away from Vikram, my face burning.

“Damian,” Vikram said reproachfully.

“It needed to be said,” Damian shrugged, “I think it’s why they wanted to meet. Isn’t it?” he looked at me expectantly.

I nodded and looked down at the floor. Vikram still had his hand on my arm, which helped keep me from panicking but I still didn’t feel great.

“Alright,” Vikram agreed.

I looked up at him in surprise.

“Did you have a timeline decided?” he asked, “Tonight or after getting to know us better?”

“T-tonight,” I stuttered.

Vikram looked at Damian and spoke in their language. Their change lasted a few minutes, in the meantime, Vikram’s hand moved lazily up and down my arm. It send a shudder up my spine.

“Is sex all you want from this?” Vikram questioned.

“It was,” I admitted, “But now with how good this feels… I don’t know.”

“Now that you have met us and felt this,” he indicated his hand on my arm, “Has your plan changed?”

“A bit… I, uh… I’d kinda planned to just come over for sex whenever… If y’all were into that, at least. But now I think I want more.”

“So you don’t want to have sex tonight?” Damian asked.

“I’d love to have sex tonight,” I disagreed, “But my plan beyond tonight changed. If y’all don’t hate me, I’d like to… hang out. Be… friends. Or… more,” I added shyly.

“I would love that,” Vikram reached up his free hand to run a finger across my cheek. I closed my eyes and savored the feeling.

Arousal started to build again. I wanted to feel him touch me everywhere.

“You do not wish to wait until you are more comfortable with us?” Vikram asked softly.

“Are you actually willing to have sex with me tonight?”

“Yes. If that is what you want, I am very willing. I only want to be certain it is truly what you want.”

“It is,” I said eagerly, “Please.”

Vikram cradled my cheeks and pressed a kiss to my head, “Yes. We will.”

“Fuck,” I hissed, “I… I didn’t think you’d say yes so I didn’t… uh…”

“Do you need some human moments?” Damian asked.

“Fuck you,” I said automatically and then covered my mouth with my hand.

“You will soon,” he winked.

“We have a shower you can use,” Vikram offered, “And clothing you can change into. Take your time. I believe we also need a few ‘human moments’ to prepare.”

“Okay,” I agreed nervously.

“I’ll show you where the bathroom is,” Damian offered, getting to his feet.

Vikram lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on my palm before releasing me. I shakily followed Damian to the bathroom. Except he didn’t lead me to a bathroom. He led me to a bedroom with an adjoining bathroom.

There’s clothes in here that should fit you,” he said, gesturing at a dresser, “You can wear as much or as little as you like when you join us. Be comfortable,” he stressed. “There’s a robe hanging in the bathroom for you to use however you see fit. The bathroom is stocked with things you shouldn’t be allergic to, but if you find it lacking, let me know. There’s toothbrushes and toothpaste. Use as much or as little of anything as you want. It’s all for you anyways.”

“You… stocked a bathroom for me?”

“Yes. Of course,” he said, as if that was a given, “As Vikram said, take your time. We weren’t exactly ready to have sex with you tonight either, so we’re going to prepare.”

“Okay,” I nodded.

“All that said,” he took a step towards me, “If you change your mind, that’s fine too. Vikram or I can drive you home. You could stay in here,” he gestured at the bedroom, “Or you can sleep with us without having sex. You have options. I know that may not be what your anxiety wants to hear,” he smiled, amused, “But you have options. You aren’t locked into anything at any point. You can always say no. You can always change your mind.”

“Thank you,” I told him, “Can you just tell me one thing?”

“Of course.”

“Do you really want to have sex with me?”

Damian slowly looked me up and down before answering in a deeper tone, “Oh, yes. I want to have sex with you.”

I shuddered and nodded, “Okay then.”

Damian turned to leave, but I put my hand on his arm and he faced me again.

“Can I ask you a TMI question?”

“Yes, Indigo,” he said gently, “What’s wrong?”

“Should I… shave? My legs or… anything else?”

“I don’t recommend shaving… anything else,” he said pointedly, “Right before sex. And shaving at all is your choice. Perhaps this won’t ease your anxiety, but I can promise hair doesn’t bother either of us. We don’t shave and we enjoy each other’s body’s just fine.”

“Wow. TMI.”

“You’re going to be having sex with us soon,” he shrugged, “You’ll need to come to terms with the fact that we often have sex with each other. Wild, passionate sex.”

“I’m going now,” I said.

“Take your time,” he grinned.

~

I took time to pick through all the clothing options. Thankfully no sexy lingerie was to be found. I selected a few options to try on after my shower. I brushed my teeth three times and spent time in the shower cleaning every inch of my body. The shower was beautiful and giant, so it was very comfortable.

Once out of the shower, I tried on the clothes I’d picked out. There were fresh socks and underwear which all fit perfectly. For clothes, I went with a small tank top and shorts. In the mirror, I thought I looked pretty hot but I had no idea if they would think so. I covered up with the robe.

When I emerged from the bedroom, Damian was there. He smiled at me.

“Sorry I took so long…”

“No, your timing is perfect actually. Are you ready?” he held out a hand to me.

I nodded and placed my hand in his. His skin was cool, but not extremely cold. Warmer than air temperature, but cooler than a human would be.

“I do generate some body heat,” he commented, guessing where my thoughts were, “Not a lot, but more than a slab of marble.”

“Are you going to reference Twilight constantly?”

“Sorry,” he said, not looking sorry at all. “I like your reaction to it. It’s cute.”

My face flushed.

He led me across the house and into a bedroom. In the center of the room was a massive bed. Vikram was perched on the edge of it. I realized both Vikram and Damian were wearing different clothes than before. Previously they were in jeans and button up shirts but they had changed into pajama pants and Vikram wore a tshirt and Damian wore a skin tight tank top.

“Please, sit,” Vikram patted the bed beside him.

Damian kissed my hand and released it and I joined Vikram’s side. Damian pulled up a chair to sit across from us.

“We have to have a talk first,” Damian stated.

I groaned quietly. I’d been worried about that.

“Neither of us are capable of having STDs,” Vikram informed me, “And we are both infertile so there is no pregnancy risk.”

“Okay…”

“We still tend to default to using condoms,” Damian explained, “Because a lot of people prefer that.”

“I’m allergic to—”

“Latex,” Vikram nodded, “We have latex free condoms.”

“But they aren’t needed?”

“No, it comes down to preference,” Damian said, “It makes for less… cleanup.”

“I… I don’t know what I’d prefer,” I said shyly.

“That is alright,” Vikram put his hand on my back, “We will use them to start with.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

“You’ve never had sex?” Damian asked.

I nodded.

“But you’ve pleasured yourself?”

“Really?” I whined.

“This is important, Indigo,” Vikram told me.

“Fine, yes I have. Do you want details?”

“Some,” Damian confirmed, “If you are expecting penetrative sex, I would like to know if you’ve used any toys for that before.”

“Yes,” I said stiffly.

“Has it ever caused you pain?”

“Not… when I’m careful,” I said quietly, “Is… is it going to hurt?”

“If we take things slowly, no,” Damian assured me. He put his hand on my knee and gave it a comforting squeeze, “If you feel any pain, tell us to stop and we will. We don’t want to hurt you, Indigo. It may feel strange or uncomfortable, but there should not be pain.”

“That is why this conversation is important,” Vikram added, “We need to know if anything has caused you pain before, so we can avoid it.”

“We also need to know what you enjoy,” Damian said, “Do you like penetration? Or is there something else we should explore?”

“I like it. I mean… it doesn’t feel extremely, uh… pleasurable… But it’s… The idea excites me.”

“Alright,” Damian nodded, “Are there things you do find pleasurable?”

“Well, the… normal stuff,” I mumbled.

Vikram wrapped his arm around me and kissed my forehead.

Damian shook his head and said, “Indigo, I need details. There is no ‘normal’ here. Everyone enjoys different things. Some people get pleasure from penetration. Some don’t. Some enjoy their clit stimulated. Others don’t. Some like their chests touched—”

“Okay, fine,” I said, “Yeah, I like my… my…”

“Clit?” he questioned.

“Are you really gonna make me say those words?”

“Yes,” Vikram said, “Indigo, we need to have a blunt discussion so we know what to do. This is your first time and while perfection may be an impossible goal, I do want for you to enjoy it as much as possible.”

“Well, what about your enjoyment? What do you like?”

“You want to know?” he questioned.

I nodded.

He bent down so his breath was in my ear, “I want to turn you around and take you from behind against the bed.”

Well, my brand new panties were soaked.

I let out a shaky breath, “Yes please.”

Vikram chuckled and kissed my cheek, “Soon enough, my love. I want to be more gentle your first time.”

“But I like rough,” I whined.

“That’s good information to have,” Damian said excitedly. “Can you tell us more?”

“Fine, you want details? I really like the idea of just being used for your pleasure. I want you to hold me down, ignore my pain and protests, and fuck my brains out. How’s that?”

Damian grinned, “Beautiful. We’ll certainly keep that in mind going forward. For your first time, a little more gentleness is required.”

“Can’t you just throw me on the bed, take my virginity, and be done with it?”

Damian winced.

I covered my mouth with my hand, “Sorry! I’m so sorry! I… I forgot.”

“You… forgot something I didn’t tell you?” he questioned, “I never told you that word is a trigger of mine.”

“No, but I knew. And I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, “I’m fine, Indigo. Thank you for your consideration. Regardless, I know the idea of that turns you on, but I think practically you aren’t going to enjoy that as much right now as you will down the road. Right now, you don’t know us that well and engaging in that type of play may be too much. We need to have a far longer discussion before we can engage in consensual non-consent. We need a plan and safe words. It is something we can do down the road, but not tonight. Not your first time.”

I sighed and nodded, knowing he was completely right.

“Tonight, I would like to go down on you,” Damian said, “Would that be alright?”

I swallowed hard and nodded.

“May I kiss you?” Vikram asked softly.

“I… I don’t know that I’m comfortable with that,” I whispered.

“Alright,” he nodded.

“We can—” I said quickly.

“No, that is fine, Indigo.”

“Do you like the idea of light bondage?” Damian asked.

“Yes,” I breathed, “I like… being restrained so I can’t mess things up.”

“You won’t mess up regardless, but that is something we can do,” Damian said, “This isn’t serious BDSM or roleplay, though. If you say stop, we stop. No safe word.”

I nodded.

“No contract?” I teased.

Damian chuckled, “Do you want one? Should we cross anal fisting off the list?”

I grimaced, “Yeah, actually. Anything anal… Not yet.”

“Understood. And vaginal fisting?”

“Uh, if you can fit a fist in there without causing me pain then you’re clearly practicing witchcraft of some kind.”

“I think you’ll be surprised what I can fit in there,” Damian laughed, “Now…” he spoke to Vikram in their language.

Vikram nodded and kissed my neck before urging me to lay back on the bed. My heart beat out of me chest.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

I nodded wordlessly.

Vikram held my arms above my head on the bed with one hand and stroked my cheek with his other, “You can say no at any time.”

Damian put his hands on my thighs and pushed the bottom of the robe up, exposing my shorts.

“May I remove these?” he asked.

“Yes,” I breathed.

He gripped the hem of my shorts and pulled them down, taking my underwear with them. Automatically, I pressed my legs together. Damian rubbed his hands on the tops of my thighs.

“You look beautiful, Indigo,” he assured me, “May I pleasure you?”

I took a deep breath and let my legs relax. He gently eased them apart.

“You won’t bite me?” I asked, suddenly fearful.

“Not tonight,” he grinned, “That isn’t what I have a taste for right now.”

Then he was between my legs. He blew gently on my mound, causing me to arch my back. Then I felt his tongue gently probe my folds. I whimpered and rocked my hips impatiently. Damian put his hands on my waist to hold me still as he sucked on my clit.

“Oh!”

Damian pulled back as I got close to orgasm and looked between me and Vikram.

“Do you want your chest touched?” Damian asked.

I looked up at Vikram and nodded.

“You are certain?” he asked.

“Touch me!” I begged.

As Damian returned to his task, adding fingers to his ministrations, Vikram carefully unfolded my robe, revealing the tank top. Through the fabric, Vikram cupped my breast, rubbing his thumb over my nipple. I arched my back, pressing myself into his hand. Then he ducked down and tongued my other nipple through my shirt.

“T-take it off,” I panted.

Vikram made quick work of pulling my shirt over my head and taking the rope with it before pinning my hands again. I was completely naked and exposed as he used his free hand to knead one breast while taking the other into his warm wet mouth. I’d never liked my breasts being touched much, but it felt so good.

Suddenly it was all too much and pleasure broke out over my body. I moaned and whined and twisted as my orgasm took me, urged on by Damian's tongue on my clit and fingers inside me. Damian prolonged my orgasm far longer than I thought possible.

“Oh…” I breathed.

Damian rose and kissed my forehead before breathing in my ear, “Who do you want to take you first?”

“I… I don’t know,” I said, looking at Vikram.

“Yes, you do,” Damian said, “And I don’t blame you. That’s one sexy man.”

“Indigo, are you certain?” Vikram asked.

“Yes,” I begged, “Please! I want you… inside me.”

He released my hands and moved back. He pulled off his shirt and pants, leaving him in his underwear. I watched eagerly as he removed his underwear. I inhaled sharply. He was much larger than the tiny toy I’d used on myself.

“It is alright,” he murmured, positioning himself between my legs as he ran a hand down the length of my body, “I will not hurt you.”

“You’re sure?” I asked doubtfully.

He bent over me and kissed my forehead, “Yes. I am sure. But we do not have to do this.”

“Kiss me,” I told him.

He smiled and cupped my face, lifting me to meet his lips. He was gentle and probing but I had no idea what to do so I opened myself to him and felt his tongue invade my mouth. I gripped his arms and arched my back, feeling his length between my legs.

When we broke apart, I was ready. I smiled up at him and nodded.

Damian held out a foil packet to Vikram.

“No condom,” I said.

“You are certain?” he asked.

I nodded, “I want to… uh… feel you.”

“Alright,” he agreed, putting one hand on my hip and probing my entrance with his other.

I gasped at the intrusion. His fingers felt so much bigger than I was used to.

He wrapped my legs around his waist and kissed me again as he fingered me. I kissed him back as best I could with my inexperience. I was too excited to care about embarrassing myself. He swirled his fingers inside me, stretching me beyond what I thought possible.

I was in the verge of another orgasm when he pulled back, but then something thicker replaced his fingers and pressed against me. I whimpered and started to struggle.

“Sshh,” he soothed, “It is alright. Relax and this will not hurt.”

“You don’t know that,” I shook my head, starting to second guess everything.

I felt his fingers in me again and inhaled sharply.

“Does this hurt?” he asked.

“N-no…”

“I will not hurt you, Indigo,” he said, “But we can stop.”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, focusing on the feeling of his warmth around me. It relaxed me.

“No, I’m… I’m fine. Just please be gentle. I’m scared.”

Vikram kissed my forehead and pulled his fingers from me. “You can tell me to stop for any reason,” he assured me, “Relax.”

I took another deep breath and let his warmth release the tension from my muscles. He pressed against me again and slipped inside.

I gasped in surprise and he stilled.

“Indigo?” he questioned, his voice strained.

“I’m fine,” I squeaked.

He moved within me, dragging across my inner nerves slowly. His pace gradually quickened and I found myself rising my hips to meet him. Soon, he gripped my waist and held me in place so he could pound into me with wild abandon, all gentleness forgotten.

I arched my back and tightened my legs around him as my orgasm gripped me. I felt my inner muscles massaging him and he pressed into me and grunted as I felt warmth fill me. I moaned and ground my hips against him as we climaxed together.

Vikram’s body laid heavy atop me. Not enough to crush me, just enough to be pleasant. When he stirred, I whimpered and held on to him.

“It is alright,” he murmured, “I will not move until you are ready.”

I whined a little and nodded, feeling how sensitive I was down there. Every breath felt like sandpaper. After a minute I said, “Okay. Slowly?”

“Always,” he kissed my forehead and slowly pulled out of me.

I winced but it didn’t hurt.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I… I think so.”

Vikram scooped me up in his arms and moved me into the center of the bed, onto the pillows. I saw Damian enter the room with a bowl of water and washcloth.

“Did… did you want to…?” I asked him.

“Not tonight,” he murmured, stroking my forehead with his thumb, “Another time. May I clean you?”

I swallowed hard and nodded. He eased my legs apart and started cleaning away the fluids with the warm wet rag. It felt so strange for liquids to be leaking out of me. I squirmed uncomfortably.

Vikram laid beside me and kissed my shoulder. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I did,” I said, trying not to wince as Damian carefully cleaned my sensitive parts, “It was… amazing. Did… did you?”

“Yes,” he assured me, “Very much. I did not hurt you?”

“Not at all. Sorry I freaked out…”

“No, it is alright. I hope I did not pressure you into continuing.”

“I wanted to.”

Damian kissed my thigh as he cleaned, causing me to moan a little.

“You sure you don’t want to?” I asked him.

“Oh, I do. But I think that’s more than enough for one night. Recover.”

“But I’m not… injured, right?”

“No, but you may feel sore,” Vikram told me, “It is best to not overexert yourself tonight.”

“I don’t want anyone to be left out, though…”

Damian and Vikram smiled to each other.

“No one has to be completely left out,” Damian said, putting the rag away and climbing over me to straddle Vikram.

Vikram hissed as he put his hands on Damian's hips, “Gently. I am still sensitive too.”

“Just how I like you,” Damian quipped, leaning forward and kissing Vikram passionately.

I scooted away from them, uncomfortable.

“You can watch,” Damian told me as Vikram kissed his neck, “Or not. Whatever you want.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Vikram panted.

I retrieved my robe and wrapped it around my shoulders as Damian undressed. Vikram tried to sit up, but Damian pushed him back down and rocked his hips on Vikram’s length. Vikram groaned and pressed his head back against the pillows. Damian directed Vikram’s cock into himself and moaned in appreciation. Damian expertly worked Vikram, moving just right to drive him wild.

Eventually, Vikram flipped Damian over so he was on top, driving into him roughly, as he had done to me. They both soon found their release.

When they were able to move again, Damian started to get up, but Vikram pushed him down and said something lovingly in their language before kissing him. Vikram then got off the bed and went around to the bowl and rag, retrieving it. As he passed me, he bent down and kissed my forehead before returning to Damian's side and dutifully cleaning him as Damian had done for me.

“Enjoy the show?” Damian asked me.

I silently nodded.

“Good. It was quite good for me too. We should do that more often,” Damian said as he grabbed Vikram’s hand, “I like fucking you when you’re so sensitive.” He kissed Vikram’s hand.

Vikram set down the bowl and climbed into bed on top of Damian, kissing him. He murmured something in Damian's ear that made Damian laugh.

“That would be rude to our guest,” Damian admonished teasingly.

“Hmm, true,” he rumbled, kissing Damian's neck before pulling back. “Indigo, where do you want to sleep tonight?”

“Uh… I can… go home if you two want to fuck more?” I suggested.

They both laughed.

“We aren’t going to fuck more,” Damian said firmly, “You can sleep in here with us. Cuddled up between a vampire and werewolf… Perfect temperature.”

“Fuck,” I covered my face with my robe, “Why’d you have to find that blog?”

“I liked it,” Damian said as he got up, “Gave me all sorts of good ideas.”

“It was quite the invasion of privacy,” Vikram commented, laying back against the pillows.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Damian said, “I stopped checking that blog after I messaged you, though.”

“I stopped posting after you messaged me,” I grumbled, pulling my robe tightly against me.

“That’s too bad. Looked like a pretty popular blog. Lots of monster fuckers really resonated with your posts.”

I frowned.

“Am I… a real monster fucker now?”

“You have fucked a monster,” Damian agreed.

“True,” Vikram nodded solemnly, “And now this monster wants to hold you while you sleep.”

I smiled and moved towards his open arms. He held me and Damian moved to my other side.

The pair held me as I fell asleep.

For fun #12 plz? :3

Sorry for the delay in posting this! I've had this ask for a few days. 😅

I've been busy writing new stuff so I haven't had a chance to track read through #12 and uh... it's a pretty personal one so I may want to do some censoring before I post it.

Right now, I'm working on For Fun 19, which is already 10k words after only three days lol. When I feel like taking a break from that (or lose interest), I'll post #12. Sorry for the wait!

[the-witty-pen-name]

Deadbeat Pt. 2

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Read Part One

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), smut, cursing, abandonment, infatuation, cheating/divorce, angst, mild housewife kink, this chapter talks about Reverend Teagardin/his actions towards the young girls in the story (nothing is described in detail- just accusations discussing how he gives off bad vibes and is creepy- if you’ve seen the film you already know)

Word Count: 5k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room.

A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.

I hope you all enjoy!

Tags and Requests are OPEN

It was always so hot in that little one room chapel. There was no fan and everyone would be crushed in together like sardines. The air was always sticky and it turned everyone sluggish. Your mama never brought you and Tommy to church, but you saw how that singled you out in this community. The judgmental looks people would give you for not going always made you feel like they viewed your family as trailer trash. So when they left, you started going regular like everyone else. You wanted to make a good impression and give yourself an opportunity to be more involved in the community. You used to attend with Arvin’s family, but now you sit on the opposite side of the aisle.

You and Arvin were still on friendly terms. On your nights off, sometimes you’d be invited to join them for supper. Ever since you and Arvin broke up, you’ve politely denied his grandmother’s thoughtful invitations. Now that you were living alone with the Sheriff, you wouldn’t anticipate any more neighborly invitations but instead prayers to save your soul, like you weren’t already damned for ‘peddling the Devil’s drink’ as you’ve heard alcohol referred to so many times by Ms. Russell.

You didn’t care much for the new reverend, and you found yourself often zoning out during his sermons. You were more preoccupied with the uncomfortableness of the pews and how your thighs felt like you’d be ripping giant band-aids off the back of them when you stand up after the service ended- even if it was a cooler day. Reverend Teagardin made a terrible first impression in your opinion, and he never did nothing to make you think you were misjudging him. You trusted the Sheriff’s advice to steer clear of him. Though based on the liking he’d taken to talking to the high school aged girls after service ended, you were thinking you were too old for him anyways. You shook your head, chastising yourself for joking about something like that even just to yourself. You made sure to tell Lee whenever he did something to tip you off that he might be trouble. You didn’t trust him one bit.

After the service, you were almost ambushed by a couple of women who were notoriously known for being the town’s busy bodies. The shorter of the two was Ethel Perry, who absolutely wreaked of cigarette smoke and always carried a little beaded purse. The other was Ida Sinclair, whose hair was a silver blue, and always wore a turtleneck and a thick sweater overtop even in the middle of hot summer days. They were sweet ladies, and normally you’d love to gab and let them fill you in on all the town gossip. They were great to talk to. But now that you were on the other side of their gossip, their nice demeanor felt much more predatory now that they were seeking you out for information instead of sharing it.

“Sweetheart,” Ida said sweetly, cornering you outside by the steps. “You poor thing how are you holding up?” You were buttoning up your jacket, when the pair snuck up on you, catching you off guard.

“Oh Mrs. Sinclair, I’m doing just fine. No need to worry about me,” you say, giving them a small smile.

“Is it true you’re renting a room to Sheriff Bodecker?” Ms. Perry interjects, not even bothering with the small talk. You almost respected her more direct approach, the small talk Ms. Sinclair was attempting to make made you feel a tinge resentful of their attitude towards you.

“Yes, ma’am,” you reply, not giving her anymore details. If she wanted the gossip, she’d need to own up to being direct in her behavior.

“We heard Janie kicked him out of the house,” Mrs. Sinclair said, her face plastered with worry like she felt sorry for the man. You smiled through your teeth and nodded.

“Makes sense,” Ms. Perry added, “Him needing a room and with your mama leaving you here alone and all.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you say smiling through your teeth, you hadn’t realized you were grinding down on them that hard.

“Ms. Beaumont was going on and on yesterday about how it wasn’t fitting,” Ms. Perry continued. “You being a young single girl- working at that terrible bar, renting out a room to a man. She was insinuating something awful- but don’t worry dear. We know she’s just being meddlesome and trying to stir the pot where she shouldn’t.”

“Thank you, Ms. Perry,” you responded, sarcastically but they didn’t pick up on it. “It was lovely seeing you both,” you say, stepping away, “but I should be heading home now.”

“Too bad the Sheriff doesn’t come to Church,” Mrs. Sinclair, said, “He could be driving you, so you don’t have to be walking.”

The Sheriff worked on Sunday mornings and both of them knew that. You knew it was just an attempt to insinuate something else you didn’t have the patience to try to decode. You just nodded as a goodbye and started walking home. It never took long to walk, and you wouldn’t bother the Sheriff for a ride unless you really needed one- like if it was bad weather or if you were leaving work too late at night. You didn’t mind walking at all- gave you a chance to just clear your head and enjoy the fresh air, especially after getting out of that stuffy chapel.

You knew the Sheriff actually wasn’t working today. He told you this morning he was going to the courthouse to sign his divorce papers and then to pick up his stuff at the house. You’d see him later on that night when he finished that whole mess. It was the quickest divorce you’d ever seen. Neither one of them seemed to care to get lawyers. Based on what Lee told you so far, he really just was fine with her taking anything she asked for- including the house. His indifference to the whole thing really was like no divorce you’d ever heard about. You sympathized, because it was just him not wanting to prolong the painful ordeal of it all. He just wanted to get it all over and done with, and you understood that.

When you got home, you changed out of your Sunday dress and into some work clothes. A pair of overalls, a short sleeved tshirt and a pair of your old saddle shoes. You protected your hair with a bandana and decided to get to work. You got some free cardboard boxes from the grocer yesterday, and you resolved to help Lee out and clear out all of your mom’s old stuff. You told him when he left to leave the door unlocked for you and it would be cleared out as best you could get it so he’d had somewhere to put his stuff when he got back.

You started with the closet and getting rid of all her clothes. You’d call the donation center tomorrow and they’d send someone to come pick it all up. You weren’t sentimental about anything that belonged to her. Much like the Sheriff and his divorce, you just wanted to get this stuff out of the house and get the chore over with. You kept the photographs, and some of the things you knew might be worth something, like any of the jewelry she’d left in her jewelry box. You took anything that was hers and either tossed it or put it in the large donation pile.

You knew the weather tonight would be fine, so you opted to carry all the boxes outside and stack them on the porch. You figured it would be better and easier to deal with if you piled the full boxes outside before they came tomorrow. You didn’t touch Tommy’s room. You figured there was no need, and he was the only one out of the two you had a small amount of hope would someday come back, even if it was just to visit.

You closed the first box, and carried it down the hall and down the stairs slowly because it blocked your vision. At the bottom of the stairs, you propped the box on your hip so you could open the door. You then walked sideways out of the front door to drop it on the porch. As you were walking out you saw the familiar cruiser, driving down the road. You smiled, actually liking the feeling of having someone living with you. It was a little exciting. It was clouded by terrible circumstances on both your parts, but you hadn’t realized how lonely you had been living alone- even if it had only been a couple of days of Lee being here.

When Lee saw you walk out on the porch, he almost hit the garage door. You looked absolutely gorgeous, sweaty from working around the house and moving boxes. His heart felt strained in his chest when you smiled at him. That right there made his whole shitty day worth it. He hated facing Janie, scribbling his signature fast as ever on every document thrown at him. He hated that she was there with Miller, him standing behind her with his hand on her shoulder comforting her, like she wasn’t the adulterer in the room. It was infuriating.

He felt like a stranger in his own goddamn house, rummaging through everything grabbing what was his. Janie watched him like a hawk, following him around and saying nothing, like he wasn’t to be trusted to not take something. What like he’d steal something that was his? He hardly spoke two words to her. Miller sitting in his recliner, watching the news on the television. She made no attempt to even shield him from the look of another man living there. She wasted no time, announcing she’d be marrying the bastard as Lee was leaving. He mumbled a ‘congratulations’ and loaded the few boxes he had into the trunk of the cruiser.

Now seeing you there standing on the porch, all the bullshit he had to put up with today seemed worth it. It was grounding. He sighed, tossing his hat on the seat, and zipping up his leather jacket- ignoring the way it was fitting a little snugger. As he fumbled with the zipper, his mind started to wander- thoughts always clouded with you. He was usually able to keep his feeling pushed away when he was out, but the second he would see you again, all progress was lost. And here you are, like you were waiting for him to come back to you.

“I still have a few more boxes,” you say as he closes the door to the cruiser.

“I can move them,” he tries to protest, but you’ve already disappeared back into the house. He gets his own boxes out of the trunk and brings them into the house, leaving them on the living room floor for now. He hangs up his coat on the coatrack, on the hook next to yours, and then heads up the narrow staircase to see if he can help you. He gets to his room and he stops in the doorway, dead in his tracks. You’re on the floor, on your knees in front of a box, using a roll of packing tape to secure it shut. His heart stops and he’s frozen. He stutters to make himself known, but you don’t seem to notice the way he reacted to you. He’s relieved that you don’t seem to miss a beat, pushing the box in his direction, your way of telling him he can bring it outside. You stretch over and pull another box in front of you and begin placing folded clothes that were on the floor inside just to fill it to the brim completely before closing it.

That silent assembly line of the two of you makes the work go by quick. You have six large boxes ready to get picked up tomorrow sitting on the front porch, and Lee is able to bring his stuff upstairs. You decide to let him have some time to just settle, and you get started on what to do for dinner when you see it getting pretty late in the afternoon.

There was never any spoken agreement that you’d both eat together. It just kind of happens on its on the past two nights he’s been here. You’d be making dinner for yourself anyways, and making something for two isn’t that much more work. You know he doesn’t expect you to cook for him at all, but since you were taking up the kitchen anyways you don’t mind. You weren’t the best cook, but you’re pretty sure your cooking beats a cold sandwich from the diner.

Upstairs, Lee was letting his emotions get the best of him. His ever-present feelings for you- he actually wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe it was just an attraction, or maybe he was so used to coldness from Janie that he’s falling apart at a woman being nice to him and treating like a person. He needed to pull himself together. He closed his eyes for a second, picturing how you looked packing the boxes up. On your knees, the overalls hugging your figure, the little bit of sweat on your brow- it was the best sight he ever got the pleasure of seeing. He looks at the mirror that sat in the corner of the room. He sighs looking over his appearance.

There’s no way a beautiful, young girl like you would look at him the same way, as much as he wished it. His slightly protruding stomach, a sign of all the drinking and his bad diet. He had a little bit of a double chin from angles as well. He sticks is neck out to try to remember what his face looked like when his jaw was more defined. He realizes how ridiculous he was being. He didn’t think you were the kind of person to care that much about the things that very much bothered him. He runs a hand through his hair, and continues to hang up his shirts in the closet. You were turning him soft, and you had no idea.

He hears you coming up the stairs, and he feels his heartbeat quicken like you were going to catch him thinking about you. He was being so stupid, he chastises himself. He couldn’t have you affecting him like this. He turned his head and catches your eye as you are heading into the bathroom in the hallway.

“Just washing up before supper,” you say casually, and heading into the bathroom. He had to pull himself together. He sighed, thinking about your sweetness and hospitality ever since he showed up at your door two nights ago. You welcomed him into your home without a second thought. You trusted him, and that made him feel even more guilty. He couldn’t be thinking that anything between the two of you could happen. He needed to be a good man. But Christ, how even could a good man keep himself in check when he’s in such close quarters with you?

“Made mac and cheese with some grilled chicken if you’re hungry,” you say, not looking back at him but just immediately heading back down the hallway and down the stairs. He watched you walk away, biting his lip at how your ass looked in that denim. He gently hits his head against the mirror, like that’s somehow going to snap him out of it. He makes a fist and then stretches out his hands like that will do anything.

“Ms. Perry and Mrs. Sinclair cornered me outside Church today,” you said with a chuckle, as he came into the kitchen.

“Yeah?” he asks, taking the plate you hand to him. He opens up the drawer and grabs silverware for him and yourself while you put your plate together.

“Yeah,” you grinned, biting your lip. “I’m the talk of the town apparently.”

“I’m sorry about that, hun,” he says sympathetically, “That’s all my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” you say, walking over to your kitchen table and taking a seat. “I find them kind of funny,” you shrug, “They were talking about me long before this and this is just the newest thing.”

“What did they say?” he asks, as he takes his seat across from you. It was a small table, only was able to seat two comfortably, anymore would be too crowded.

“They think I should be using you as a ride to Church,” you reply, “Also that our situation ain’t fitting according to Ms. Beaumont. But they insisted they don’t think that at all.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” he grins.

“I thought she was gonna ask me how much I’m charging you for rent next,” you scoff before taking a bit of food.

“Do they bother you?” he asks. He felt bad at how this living situation would affect you. He understood how much keeping up appearances mattered in this town. If someone were to start a nasty rumor, your name would be tarnish all over town. You might as well start wearing a big red A on your jacket.

“Not really,” you shrug. “It bothered me in the moment, cause they cornered me, but I have no reason to be worried. It’s not like anything they say is gonna amount to anything without evidence. They can insinuate all they want.”

The word evidence hung heavy on his mind. His brain running through scenarios if you both actually had something worth hiding. Kissing you in the backseat of the cruiser pulled into some back road by the water somewhere or sneaking touches under the table at the diner. It wouldn’t be wrong, not really, he thought to himself. You’re an adult and if you felt the same way fuck what the town would think.

You actually thought the Sheriff was quite handsome. You hadn’t really been able to look past how intimidating he looked sometimes or his gruff exterior. The man sitting across from you was not like the guy that makes the town cower away from him at times. He was relaxed, his face especially. It was a rare form for him. The man seemed to constantly be stressed, full of pent-up tension, no doubt due to the stress of his job. You noticed that his eyes looked softer, and how blue they were. Suddenly, you realized it was just you and him- alone. Living in your house. You felt your face heat up, and he picked up on your change in demeanor.

“You alright?” he asks, looking over at you.

“Yeah,” you say, a little nervously. “Just need some water.”

You get up and head over to the cabinet next to the sink, and you reach up to get yourself a glass. Suddenly, you feel his presence behind you, making you jump. He’s just reaching to get himself a glass too, his body pressing very lightly against you. He gives you a concerned look as you look flustered and you let out a small gasp.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya,” he says, and you could almost swear you saw him smirking. He takes his glass over to the fridge and pours himself some of the iced-tea from the pitcher you keep inside the fridge.

“I think you’re right about Reverend Teagardin,” you say, trying desperately to reorient yourself.

“He’s no good,” Lee agreed. “He’s crooked. Just be careful around him, sweetheart.” Those damn pet names were making your stomach churn with butterflies.

“I think I’m too old to be on his radar,” you admit quietly, in a rushed tone. Your accusation hushed, even if it was just you and Lee.

“You see him do anything?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No, not really,” you say, “but he talks for an awful long time to the high school aged girls after services. I don’t know it just gives me a gut feeling about him. Those poor girls, like Lenora- they don’t know when their being sweet talked and manipulated. Just makes me nervous. Married man talking to those girls so shamelessly- charming them.”

“I’ll try to swing by and check the place out,” he nods, looking a little lost in thought.

“That’ll make me feel so much better,” you smile. He grins and licks his lips, before taking a swig of his drink.

You both take a seat at the table again, finishing up dinner fairly quickly. You asked him about his day and he told you all about Miller and the papers, and you listened intently. You felt bad he had to go through that. Yeah, Lee was not a picture-perfect husband by any means, you were sure. But the actions he faced today still sounded harsh. Somewhere in your mind, you thought he deserved better. Maybe he didn’t, but the man was clearly in pain and it tugs at your heartstrings.

“Since you made dinner, I can clean up,” he offered.

“That’s really sweet. Thanks, Lee,” you smile shyly. This all felt so… domestic. You were acting like a married couple. It’s not like the two of you could help it. You were living under the same roof and existing in the same space. This is how people who live together interact. That’s it. Right?

“I think I’ll call and leave a message at the donation center so they send someone to get those boxes tomorrow,” you decide. You head over to the living room where you kept your phone, pulling out your address book out of a drawer in the table the phone rested on. Lee nodded, taking your dishes and his own over to the sink.

You sit on the couch, criss cross and hold the base of the phone on one knee, resting the receiver up to your ear with your elbow. You dial the number, the phone clicking every time the dial falls back into place.

Lee can’t make out what you are saying, but he chuckles recognizing the tone of voice you use- like a customer service voice he’ll hear you pull out at the bar often. He does the dishes, and just lets himself escape into his fantasies again. His mind was racing about what those women at Church thought was happening between the two of you. He knows its wrong, but god he wishes it was real.

He imagines that after you both have gone to bed you show up at his door in the middle of the night- looking like how you did the night you agreed to let him stay. You confess how much you want him and he just pulls you into a rushed kiss- you just overtaken by the sudden relief of all the pent-up tension. He imagines how it would feel to hear little moans against his lips coming from you when he slips his tongue into your mouth. He can almost feel what it would be like to have you tightly against his body. His hands being allowed to just freely explore you and how you must look under him, begging and needy-

“Okay, that’s all set,” you announce walking back into the kitchen. “Hopefully they’ll send someone over first thing.”

“G-good, yeah,” he stutters out, pulling himself out of his daydream. “Do you have work tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I go in at 4,” you reply, not noticing how flustered he is. He’s relieved to see you looking in the fridge and it gives him a chance to adjust before you saw how hard he was.

“Need a ride?” He asks. “I can pick you up on my way home.”

“Perfect,” you smile when you turn to face him. “Thank you. I’m gonna see if there is anything good on the television we can watch.”

“Sounds good, doll,” he says, relieved when she finally heads back into the other room, taking her seat on the couch again, clicking through the channels.

He needed a minute before heading in there. Every time you were in the room he felt like his skin was on fire. He knew if he wanted to stay, he needed to get a grip. He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. He joined you in the living room and sat on the other end of the couch. There was an old picture playing on the black and white set.

Neither of you could pay attention to the damn screen no matter how hard you tried. The tension in the room- between the both of you was borderline unbearable. Both of you were stealing glances at the other, not realizing the other person was doing the same. When you would look over to him, his eyes would be toward the tv set, seeming to be watching the picture- but he also looked incredibly tense. You wondered if he was hanging out with you because he felt like he needed to. You feel awkward now thinking he’s just sitting though this to not be rude.

Lee was on the whole other side of the world in comparison to what you thought he was thinking about. He was trying desperately to gain some level of composure. He felt like he was acting like a teenager again, fucking jumping out of his skin sitting next to a pretty girl. He hadn’t felt like this in a very long time. An hour went by, neither of you saying anything- him just lost in his own thoughts. But then he felt your head hit his shoulder ever so lightly.

You had fallen asleep. He wondered how long you had been sleeping before he even realized. Here he was stressed out as ever and you are relaxed enough to fall asleep. He doesn’t even dare move. His whole body goes stiff, not wanting anything to wake you up. He wouldn’t move from this spot for all the money in the world. You were blissfully unaware at how you cuddled up next to him, your face resting in the crook of his neck. You were going to be the death of him.

He very carefully wanted to just make himself a little more comfortable. He slowly moved the arm you had pinned and adjusted so it was wrapped around your shoulder. His fingertips just grazing your skin where the sleeve of your t-shirt ended lightly. Your skin was so soft, and he bites his lip, thinking about how soft you must feel everywhere. The man was so goddamn touched starved. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was this close with Janie. It had to have been years since he experienced something this intimate. After a very long internal battle, he allowed himself to rest his head on top of yours and close his eyes for a few. He didn’t intend on falling asleep, just bask selfishly in the moment for a few minutes.

You opened your eyes and yawned softly. You looked at the clock and saw that it was well past midnight. You closed your eyes again, too tired to realize the position you were in at first. Then, a minute later you realized, and your eyes shot open again. Cuddled up to Lee’s side, his arm loosely around you. His head rested on the back of the couch, looking so peaceful.

Fuck. You were so embarrassed. You hoped he had fallen asleep first and would have no knowledge of this interaction in the morning. You carefully untangled yourself from him, moving as slow as possible to not wake him up.

You clicked off the TV and then turned off the lights, getting ready to retire up to your room for the night. You felt so hot, flushed with pure embarrassment. Your mouth was dry and the only thing you think about was cold water. You tip-toe into the kitchen and fill yourself a glass, drinking the whole thing at once. You turn off the kitchen light and leave your glass in the sick before heading upstairs.

You change out of your overalls and shirt and put on your blue nightgown. You head across the hall to the bathroom, navigating in the dark. You brush your hair, wash your face and brush your teeth before climbing into your bed and swaddling yourself with your many blankets. Your eyes are heavy, and the feeling of being in Lee’s arms is still present on your skin.

His large hands sliding up your thighs is what jolts you awake. His calloused hands moving their way up your body, pushing up your dress as they went. He dips down and presses a tantalizing kiss to your lips, one hand cupping your cheek softly and the other rubbing over your wet panties. You kiss him back, opening your mouth and letting his tongue in. You can feel his hand slip under the waistband of your panties and his thumb gently rubs your clit. Without even questioning anything, you moan and he trails his lips down to your neck, and you shiver at the feeling of his stubble. You arms wrap loosely around his neck, and your fingers play with the ends of his short hair. He groans against your skin and the sound just sends a shiver throughout your whole body. You can feel him smile, and he pushes two fingers inside. You gasp and he muffles your sounds with another deep kiss. You feel overwhelmed by how good it feels combined with the terms of endearment that fall from his lips as he praises you.

The ringing of your alarm clock scares the shit out of you, and your eyes fly open at the sound. You’re breathing heavily, and you feel your hair sticking to your forehead. You let out a heavy sigh, and click off the alarm, and then cover your face with your pillow. You felt how wet you were without having to check. You had a sex dream about Lee. A fucking wet dream about Lee Bodecker.

Part Three

Taglist:

@asylumaniac​

@rosalynshields 

@jiminlife2k18

@scar-is-bi

[whatagirlwants]

just saw a post as i was looking sabrinas snl up so im back here to debunk this whole idea from J stans.

lets start with the whole idea of “confirmed songs about him” i’m sure for Jstans they have a different idea but lets start with:

Skinny Dipping, when S put it out J liked multiple of her posts at once, it was Sept 2021. (i’ll actually try to SITE as much interviews as possible) but here is what she told teen vogue about skinny dipping; “I didn’t feel in that moment that I was at a place where I could literally be skinny dipping in water under the bridge,” Sabrina tells Teen Vogue. “I didn’t feel like I was healed and fully out of a place where I didn’t hold any anger or resentment.” Instead, she dreamed up a scenario where she hadworked through those feelings. meaning she wasnt there yet with him but she was “dreaming” or “imagining” a day where it doesn’t hurt and they have moved on and they’re at peace. keep in mind all the songs were done literally july /aug cuz thats when her and her collaborators went upstate to finish the album.

Decode, a month later S runs into J at a Harry concert, we obviously dont know the details, but we know it was for 3 seconds and that S went to him to say Hi. later the next day? S in the same outfit as the concert posts a video of her and a piano in NYC singing decode lyrics “you’re good at the falling not the staying there you’re good at the giving too much then getting scared you’re good at impersonating someone who cares and you had me for a minute there. now i wonder why i let your CONFUSION keep me up at night im so tired” link to the tiktok . also need to add the rollingstone interview during album drop where she says how leaving was never an option for her and the song took a long time to finish cause it was her accepting she doesnt need to ask questions and understand why or how things happened and just let it be. which brings me to “How Many Things?” where she is also asking those questions. (skip to decode section to better understand> https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/sabrina-carpenter-emails-i-cant-send-interview-1381304/)

How Many Things: now this is a lyrical sign but remember the way S described him in Decode, lets take a look at what she says in How Many Things: “i wonder how many things you think about before you get to me, i wonder how many things you wanna do you think im in-between. i feel myself falling further down your priorities and i still make excuses for you constantly” to me this is a huge sign to how much she still cared yet that person doesnt he has other things on his mind or maybe other people. lets take a look at the 2nd verse “remember when you left once that never made too much sense to me. well it hurt you so bad hurting me. you really came to me for for sympathy” this is a confused man i dont know i rest my case. this is definitely about the last time they were in the same place. cause remember BILAB “when everything went down we already broken up” is true. They were spotted last in Nashville during a tornado warning around March.

Tornado Warnings: people that were online then picked this up. but there is picture proof but i dont recall where it went of a fan with J. so J fans have buried this cause the fan said they saw the “blonde girl” with J and inserted a pic with J and said it was during a “tornado warning” cut to a year later when s revealed the tracklist she even has a song about that night. this further proves the breakup. if anyone has a screenshot send it to me or guide me where to find it. i remember a big “hsmtmts” instagram update account posted about it but the account was later turned private ill try to find the username. anyways we can all look at tornado lyrics, and it describes its about someone who goes back to an Ex which she knows is wrong & is a hige red flag, she is actively lying to her therapist abt him because she didnt want things to change she wasnt ready to cut this obvious red flag, person who is no good for her, confused about his own feelings, out of her life. i mean we dont know much but if her therapist told her to stay away and shes lying to them about it that person is obviously toxic, heres a link to sabrina saying its a true story to rollingstones and how she wasnt ready to heal https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/sabrina-carpenter-emails-i-cant-send-interview-1381304/

bilab; i didnt put this up on the list cause its obvious. but this song isnt “about” him its about the hate she received for being with him. she doesnt describe their relationship if anything the only bits we got is how he told her she’ll always be his favorite which she ROLLS HER EYES singing this live and that when it all went down meaning when DL/Skin dropped they already broken up we obviously dont have the exact details BUT we know sabrina loved him and wasnt ready to heal or leave further proof in the rollingstone interview i linked she says about decode how leaving wasnt an option for her she really thought they could fix this. ill go up and add that point to decode cause. “It’s sometimes easier to stay in a situation that might not be good for you than it is to gather the courage to leave.”

Vicious: on tour S said this was the last song written and recorded and added to emails because it wasnt finished in aug/sept 2021 like the most of the album, it was done Feb 2022. S followed Amy her collaborator during that time as well, thats why S sings “one year 10 thousand bad moments”. and to further confirm the confusion of the person she describes in previous songs, changing his mind about the 2 girls “me or her u just run to whoever is winning”. i think Vicious speaks for itself, read the lyrics.

which brings me to FWD tracks. fwd tracks came in march 2023, and the standard album were July 2022. so after months of S living with the new music she went back and wrote or collected new songs to end the chapter of emails. the concept of emails is writing songs no one were supposed to hear, her true feelings towards what she went through. there comes Lonesome “why were you somewhere else when you were next to me did you think about her face with your arms around my waist did u even give a fuck” and the lyrics that FURTHER confirms Vicious “isnt kind of strange how it all changed when i wasnt the one they wanted you to love” (DL/Skin outrage, hate, locals telling him to go back to O). but obviously she must have also gone past those feelings and felt free’er which is where Feather comes in, its Sabrina finally moving on which she did by putting the album out, touring, and moving forward with her life she put the past, the breakup, behind her. but it didnt happen easily she needed to BLOCK and finally CUT this person out the confusion he brought, she really had nothing left to decode. i wrote about things i wish u said recently i think if i didnt then ops probably forgot to post.

so this it for now. sorry its long. i just needed to open some eyes. ITS OKAY that she felt those things about him and u cant say it isnt true we’ve seen her cry during these songs on tour, the way she’s talked about the songs and the breakup she went through, its real. just cause he’s your favorite celebrity or artist who himself confirmed he was thinking of his other ex during these moments of his lives such as during bacteria infection, and more i dont really keep up with his songs lyrics but i remember a song saying he was thinking of someone else with his arms around another girl. he’s confusing man in his career, in his songs, in his life which validates her even more.

and thats it for this let me know what you think. might delete this later

it’s frustrating to me that there’s still jbass fans who say that sabrina has only written about him in a positive light. it’s okay to admit when someone has songs written about them.

she hasnt they keep misunderstanding her songs starting from skinny dipping

[animefreak1145]

For Whom the Bell Tolls(Adler x Bell!Reader)

Previous Next

Chapter 3| How Little We Know of What There is To Know

Chapter Summary:

Pretending and being numb is the key.

Yet Adler always manages to bring some emotion out of you.

Cold War Reset AU| Undertale Reset AU

Warnings: Torture, Brainwashing, Manipulation, Possible Non-Con/Dub-Con, Trauma

A/N: Where pineapple is the nectar of the gods and scars are lightning.

“Bell”

Second Life

23:09 | February 25, 1981

CIA SAFEHOUSE E9, “DIE LANDEBAHN”

You rubbed your dry eyes as you stared at your notes all over the desk you’ve chosen as your little corner, the large bulky computer taking up space but you’ve made do by moving the brick that is the keyboard as much as you could off to the side. Your papers held inks of different colors—although they were only red, blue, and black and yellow highlights—and you had a stack of folders behind the computer that were from the CIA and MI6 archives. You had Kraus’ ledger off to your side, headphones on top of it for you to hear the audio of U.S. cities and numbers. Your fourth mug of coffee of the day was already gone and you would grab another just to enjoy the warm liquid to go down your throat instead of the caffeine itself, you were always one of late night’s either way.

The safehouse was quiet outside the hum of the generator and the lights above. Most of the crew gone. Outside of your absent tapping of a pen against your messy notes and the white of a nearby fan for extra circulation, the main open area of the safehouse was a desert.

If you focused deeply, you can hear mumbles and murmurs that you can’t make out coming from the office. Adler has been in there for awhile talking over the phone. To who, you don’t know but you have your suspicions. You just hope the subject is not about you being suspicious—the talk on the roof was a slight on your part earlier.

You truly don’t know what came over you. But you need to watch your mouth and expressions. Adler is perceptive, deadly and ever watchful of a person’s micro expressions and body language.

You can’t mess up.

A shot rings. And a heart splinters.

“It was never personal.”

You really can’t.

Which is why, you have been focused solely on decoding the entire day. Your eyes scanning and assessing the acquired Intel from the Volkov mission for Operation Chaos and Operation Red Circus. You have the knowledge on how to solve them but you are lacking needed Intel to help finish Operation Red Circus.

Operation Chaos was tricky. With two pieces of evidence outside of the newspaper, it being the audio log and the paper that had the coded message. Earlier in the morning, you wrote down all the possible numbers the missing parts of the code be—trying to find the pattern in the set of red and blue numbers. You were writing down the possibilities, your paper looking chaotic with arrows and numbers and cities that could coincide with said numbers.

After the quick checkup of your head with Adler, all firm and gentle touches with you keeping your eyes to the side or down as he fulfilled why he got the alias Doc—treatments of gun wounds and cuts to bayonets, complete trust he’ll take care of you as he would lecture or tighten a bandage a tad too tight in reprimand due to a reckless action—and kept quiet as he did so outside of a soft yes or no when he asked  about the pain, you moved to go to work. Ignoring the feel of his gaze on you as you did so. Park coming to your desk after you moved your stuff from the center table to your chosen corner to begin, papers already everywhere and scattered as you tried to organize it in a manner you could only understand, a mug close to her mouth and a cocked brow at the mess.

“There’s a way to keep it a bit more clean and less like a junk pile,” the British woman said, amused as you made a distracted sound, squinting at the coded language in your hand as papers rustled. “And when I gave you my advice, I didn’t think you would take it so seriously. There’s a better desk you could’ve chosen as your own, Bell.”

You blinked, giving Park a confused look.

“Advice?”

Park making an obvious glance to the center table in front of the evidence board, you automatically following it. Only to turn back to your paper once you noticed Adler’s form by the table, cigarette in his hand as he stared down at his own files.

"From one woman to another, give him a wide berth."

“. . . I just needed some space to focus. I’m sure Adler wouldn’t like all my papers everywhere around him either way.” You could still feel the ghost of his touch on your head and your hand. You wanted to erase it. “But I don’t mind staying close just in case. Easier to hand things to you or him whenever I’m done.”

“Someone sounds confident,” Park commented with a sip of her coffee, making your own lips twitch for a moment as you replied that you are the best as you moved some papers around. Than, in a quiet murmur with a quick dart back to Adler’s direction, “Distractions are best to be avoided. . .”

“What was that?” You asked, placing everything in a pile as well trying to keep some of them up by leaning the papers on the computer screen and failing as they slid down. You heard Park release an exasperated humored huff through her nose just as you heard her step away only for you to have a black leather gloved hand in your face with sticky notes. “What is. . .”

“Oh come now. I am sure it’d be easier if you used these. Make sense of this chaos. I guess there is some fact of what people say about geniuses and their rooms,” she motioned the sticky note pad again as you stared at it. The papers were yellow but new. Unused, outside of a crinkle at an edge.

“Where am I?”

“Who am I?”

“What is happening?”

“Why can’t you remember?”

“D o  y o u  h e a r  i t ? ”

“Who is Perseus?”

“Tell me who I am!”

Blood forms the words, as if with a finger.

“They want to kill you.”

“Make it stop.”

“MK”

Words pressed on the page, over and over and over with harsh penmanship and you don’t understand what’s happening. What is this room? And that man. . .  Why does it hurt? Is this helping Russell?

Pain

           Pain          Pain              боль

                    боль

   Pain                                         Pain

              боль

Pain        Pain                   Pain

          Pain         Pain    Pain                

боль                                                              боль

It hurts.

GlockeGlockeGlockeG̷̟̩͙̏͌ḽ̸̊̿o̵̦̓͝c̵̭̯̊́ḱ̷̛̼͌͊e—

You turned away back to your papers, jaw tight.

“I’m good. Sticky notes can be a pain. Thank you, Park.” Park lowered her hand, giving you a questioning stare in the back of your head. You sighed, turning your head over your lowered shoulders. “I’m going to try to finish this today but I think I’m missing a few pieces of Intel. You can give me other things to decode for MI6 in the meanwhile.”

Park frowned delicately, lowering her mug.

“That sounds like a hefty workload. And I believe it would be best if we put all our focus into Perseus for now.”

No. You have to be useful.

“It’ll be fine,” you say, searching for a paper and giving it to her while Park grabbed it. “I solved that part of the code already. The other intel we got from Kraus, I’m going to need more information in order to figure out who exactly can be Strong Man, Bearded Lady, and the Juggler. I can’t go forward with that so might as well help with other codes you guys may have trouble with. What did you imply?” You ask with faux curiosity, your lips twitching up before falling as you wrote something down. “That I’m a genius?”

“Smartarse.” Park retorted, although she seemed to still hesitate but eventually she gave you three files where they seemed to be having trouble. You getting to work immediately to help as Park walked away and you hearing later on Park and Adler head to the office.

You did your best to not think too much of it. You have to keep at your work and make sure you’re capable and on task. You rather not get jabbed.

“We got a job to do.”

And although it might be inevitable, you would rather not have those words said to you as well. Even if it didn’t seem to have the same affect as before, the feeling and how your thoughts seemed to blur came back. Being aware you moved like a puppet and were one all along is not what you would like to focus on.

After you finished two of MI6’s files—had to do with KGB and how interesting they would use some quotes of Oscar Wilde’s 1984 hidden in the code as if the man was in support of communism with the work—with a hum mixed with impressed and curiosity from Park as she looked at the solved papers, your nose twitched at the scent of smoke and leather as you worked on the last MI6 folder.

“Stealing away my protege, Park?” Your hand around the pen paused before continuing, a plume of grey gathering above you. “And here I thought we have an equal partnership when it comes to this whole Perseus business. At least tell me you’re not wasting her time?”

“I wouldn’t call it stealing if she’s willing,” Park easily replied before handing him the two files to look over that you did, Adler scanning through it as she continued. “And it still has to do with our red friends. You sure are quick with the ball, Bell.”

“It’s nothing,” you say quietly, “Can’t exactly go forward so might as well help you with other codes that others can’t solve. Just send anymore my way. You too, sir.”

Adler made a distant hum, closing the files and handing it back to Park. You felt his stare at the back of your neck as you stared at the paper in front of you that might as well be nonsense since you sensed him.

Look at him, pup.

“If you wanted a more exciting challenge Bell, you could’ve asked. Always the type to leave no stone unturned and show off.”

“‘More exciting challenge’?” Park repeated, “Think MI6 codes are all flowers and rainbows compared to those in the CIA, Adler? I believe I recall that it was only Bell that could be able to solve the dossier instead of anyone else within your organization.”

Yeah, cause you brainwashed me, you thought bitterly but the two kept going as you could only sit in between. Nice to have to be a witness between these two again.

“Bell is the best CIA decoder we have,” you tightened your jaw in surprise instead of to tense when his hand landed on your shoulder, a gentle squeeze—in comfort, in belief, in trust, in camaraderie, in everything but what you wanted and what you needed, in order to control— as you lowered the paper in your hand. “As well as having a wide range of other skills. You think I would just call in any brain dead desk sitter for this operation?”

You could see in your mind’s eye how dizzy you would get before due to all this praise. Now, you just do your best to press your lips as your chest tightened.

You felt Park shift behind you, her looking at you in appraisal.

“You are one of a kind, Bell. Shame you were born in the wrong country. Having to have Adler here as your superior.”

You huffed through your nose in dry amusement at that. Irony not lost on you.

What a curse indeed.

You turned in your chair finally, lips quirked that didn’t quite meet your eyes as you pointed your thumb towards Adler.

“You should’ve seen him in ‘Nam if you think he’s bad now. Always with the lectures.”

You felt Adler release you, watching as he took an inhale as he did a small shrug in disinterest.

“You can be stubborn, Bell. If I couldn’t beat it out of you, I’ll talk it out of you.” You looked up and you could sense his eyes looking down at you behind those shades. “Although I feel like sometimes I’m wasting my breath. Your recklessness borders on insanity.”

“I think I can see why they put the both of you together than,” Park said, brow arched towards Adler and a certain look in her eyes towards him you couldn’t quite read. It looked like a warning. But what could that look be for? “Insanity breeds insanity as they say.”

They left you after that, you waving off Adler asking if you need a break. He took that as the okay to bring you CIA files for you to decode. Seems he has no trouble using you dry if you’re going to insist on it. Despite that, you took them and you were able to solve three.

Park came back towards your desk and saying you could have a break, again, you waved her off. As well as her concern you wouldn’t want to read into—is it real for you and your body, or is some sort of guilt that perhaps they gave you a strong dose for the memory exercise and you’re running on steam, is it fake or real, don’t break the puppet- so you didn’t. You telling Lazar the food you wish and him dropping it by your desk with his own comment that your brain might fall out and you saying you’ll be fine, even threw in a small joke that with his food your brain will be well nourished. Outside of your favorite brand of pumpkin seeds of course. Sims only made a stray comment about the stacks on your desk, getting tall as the day went on and turned to night. You don’t recall if you said something back. You probably did, Sims was always distant—you have trauma that’s not even real and have the gall to have some nightmares about it when he actually went through that horrible war and sees a therapist for it, you don’t know the war—so you would take what you would get.

Everyone eventually shuffled out, Park—her brows looking creased and a purse to her lips—back to the side of your desk before she left and saying you should rest and leave the rest tomorrow.

“I’ll finish the rest today,” you replied, resolute and determined as you wrote the next possible code from this possible radio station an ally of Perseus may be using. “No rest for the wicked. As they say,” you threw out additionally, an echo of her words earlier which made Park raise her brows. “It’s fine. Once I start something, I have to see it through. It helps I can be patient when it counts—at least with this.”

“You seem to take it literally. You’ve been at it since early this morning. You only moved I believe when Lazar brought your food and to use the washroom.” Once you shrugged and said that seems normal to do and you’re fine with that, you heard Park’s tone grow stronger in reprimand. “Yes, you’re fine. Tell me, is Adler stopping you from taking breaks?”

You stopped, looking at Park and her irritated expression.

“No. . . No, it’s just me.” So none of you stick me with that dreadful drug and dig around my brain. So I can show all of you I don’t need it—that you don’t need to do that. That I’m useful and more than an asset. Unneeded assets get thrown away. “I just—just don’t want to disappoint.”

"Disappoint? You've exceeded expectations at every turn, Bell. Disappoint who?"

You didn’t answer, only turned back around and continued with your pen. You heard Park mutter a curse before walking out, giving you a pat to your back and tell you you’re driving back with Adler than since he’s determined to work as well before leaving. Your eyes round down to your desk.

You’ll be alone together with him again.

You took a shaky breath, focusing on the paper in front of you.

You’ll be fine. Just keep what you’ve been doing. Pretend everything is okay.

Pretend his concern—the touch on your shoulders burned as he shook you, as if to erase your dark thoughts out of you, lifting you up with his hand easily with words of a concerned reliable friend commanding officer—is real. And his kindness—why did they save you, you’re useless, what use is an untrained dog—is real too.

Just don’t question it. You’ll go mad.

Mind your tongue as well—control yourself. You used to tease before with faux confidence when the both of you bantered, but you have to watch your spiteful and petty comments. You really don’t want him to give you a dose.

But if you feel like the path is leading you there, you have a way to get at least a semblance of control back.

Puppets don’t control the puppeteer.

“Bell.” You turned in attention, Adler by the center table as he motioned his head towards the garage door, cigarette in hand. “Time to go.”

You nodded once, getting up after fixing up your desk a bit. Grabbing your beanie turned ski mask and placing it back on your head instead of your face and walked over obediently as the both of you walked out through the side door.

Good dogs come when they listen.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯  ◁ ◁ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

“Come on, you know I hate fruit cake! Just give me your pears, Singer!”

“Sorry, Bell,” Singer grinned, taking a big purposeful spoonful of pears from the can, teeth flashing. “Guess you have to deal with all of that yourself. Too bad you don’t have a connection to those who pass the MCI’s, huh?”

You quietly glared at him with no heat, the act almost making Singer choke on his precious pears that he could’ve given you. The choking action making him spit out some and towards you, you making a noise of disgust as you punched the laughing man harshly to his shoulder as vengeance. It made him wince as the others around the campsite laughed at the two of you—the sun still above and the Vietnam jungle loud with birds and the trees moving against the wind. Although not really a campsite you would say since there no fire. Can’t have any eyes on them to go towards smoke.

‘They know these jungles better than us’ as Adler says.

Speaking of Adler, you turned towards him where he leaned against a thick great Banyan tree local to this country—the trunk thick just like the branches that spiral even to the floor. They were all actually hidden in the alcove of this tree, the space enough for them until they kept going to their destination. A beautiful yet haunting tree with its dark and smooth bark all around. You overheard once by Lee and other South Vietnam soldiers in base that these trees can have spirits inside. Dangerous they said for some of them. You don’t think these ‘spirits’ ever met Adler.

You could see Adler’s lips were up in amusement due to your predicament despite his war paint, raising his brow over his black shades when he noticed your gaze.

Before you even fully lifted your hand with the can of horrendous fruit cake, he shook his head at you, lips going even more into a smile.

“Don’t even try, kid. I fucking hate fruit cake myself,” he adjusted himself against the tree and the gun in his lap. The food of his MCI basically gone outside the crackers and canned pineapple. “Disgusting things. I don’t know who’s bright idea was it to have hard pieces of fruit and dry raisins in cake.”

That’s what you’re saying!

“Please, Adler. I gave you my cigs already, at least give me some of your pineapple?”

Sims laughed beside you, nudging your shoulder with his and shaking his head in disbelief.

“You think Doc is gonna give you some of his golden nectar away? Might as well have asked him to give his cigs along with his lighter.”

“Not happening, Bell.” Adler answered casually, finishing up his crackers and swiping his hands against his pants before moving to the can. “Besides, not like you smoke anyways. The cigs would just sit there pretty in the box if you don’t hand it to me. Unless you want to try to smoke again. It went well last time.”

“Didn’t she choke?” Singer teased around a mocking grin. It made his youthful face boyish and eyes bright. “Almost hacked out a lung didn’t you?”

Larson, who was quiet between Singer and Adler, spoke up. Already finished with his food since he’s been mostly keeping to himself. This is the first official mission he’s had since he got the news. Poor guy.

“I remember that,” Larson said softly, looking towards you and you just took all their teases. You blame Adler. “It was after the drinking game between Butcher and Hamilton. You wanted to see the big deal about why everyone liked the nicotine.”

“Only for Doc to come to the rescue after Bell took one of his cigs,” Sims ended with a shit eating grin. You’ll kill him. “Surprised you’re still here and alive. Not from just avoiding choking on nothing either, but that you took a cig from him.”

“You guys bet that I couldn’t. . .” You muttered with narrowed eyes towards Sims who shushed you.

“What was that?” Adler asked, cocking his head only for Sims and Singer to shake their heads animatedly. Adler hummed doubtfully but dropped it.

“Never mind that! Just—“ You groaned, putting your head on your hands as you still held the can of fruit cake. “You think I can eat this shitty cake? The ‘raisins’,” you said the word doubtfully, “could be actual pieces of shit for all I know. It could explain the taste. And how hard it can be.”

Singer and Sims snorted next to you, on both sides while Larson actually cracked a grin as you raised your head and told them strongly to think about it! Adler shook his head, watching the jungle periodically in the open spaces of the alcove which all of you did to be cautious but the fruit cake debacle must be solved.

You turned your eyes towards Sims, spotting his fruit cocktail. Only for his hand to block it.

“Nope.”

“Come on!” Sims shook his head, opening the can and eating the fruit cocktail and you scowled. “All of you are shitheads. Now I’m gonna have to eat this.”

“Damn straight you do,” Adler reaffirmed, stern yet you could spot he found your curse to all of them, him included, funny based on his arched brows. “No wasting MCI’s. You know the drill, Bell.”

You grunted unhappily at Adler, but you knew he was right. Which is why you wanted to trade in the first place. Food shouldn’t be wasted, no matter how heinous.

You took a spoonful after managing to cut into the hard cake, Sims laughing in your face and you could spot Larson keeping his smile at your disgruntled expression only for it to deepen when you took a bite.

You tried to distract yourself through bites by asking Adler how far away they were from their destination. Adler answering after they reach the next nearest foxhole which is two hours away, it will be another six till they reach where they need to be.

“Hue is a mess right now. With us additional reinforcements, we’re going to aim for stealth and go around and take out as much as we can.” Adler explained as they all attentively listened. They can’t mess up. “We’ve been able to give them a lot of damage last I heard, with one final push of us taking out some of them when they’re scrambling—we’ll consider the Battle of Hue a win. Of course, if there’s more than we can handle, we’ll stick to recon and head back around to tell command at the Hue MACV compound we have there.”

“And the civvies?” Larson asked.

“Don’t shoot ‘em.” Was all Adler said before they all moved to clean up and move on after you and Sims finished up.

You having to force to swallow and chew the cake and packing up the trash. They can’t leave anything else it can be used to track or find them.

Larson, Sims, and Singer were outside the alcove—waiting for you to finish as you smacked your lips as if that could take away the taste in your mouth as you grumbled. You moved to go out where Adler was as he stood by the opening to head out. You spotted something on the ground where he previously sat.

“You left something, sir,” you say, growing near to pick up the can. Huh, it’s not empty.

Adler turned his head over his shoulder, expression questioning.

“Whatcha mean, kid? That’s yours isn’t it?” You frowned, looking down at the can only for your eyes to widen. There was some pieces of pineapple left, a little less than half of the can gone but it’s something. He turned his head back as he muttered. “Don’t expect this to happen again. Not here to spoil you, Bell.”

“Don’t expect you to, sir.”

“Just pick up the trash and move it, kid.”

You grinned, knocking back the can and easily and quickly eating it. The juices spilling down your chin and neck but you didn’t care as you licked your lips. The taste of disgusting shit cake gone.

You packed the can quickly, swiping your chin with the back of your hand as the both of you walked to where the others were.

“Thanks,” you said to him softly.

“For telling you to pick up your trash?” Adler answered easily and you smiled knowingly but let it go.

Such a hard ass.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▷ ▷ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

The car ride was silent, passing street lights and empty cafe’s whizzing by and enlightening the car for a mere moment before it would be enveloped in darkness once more until the next light comes. You were staring out the window as they passed the streets of Berlin, the sounds of the wiper periodically occurring due to the light rain occurring. Not many people out at this time of night, nearing midnight unless you were a working girl or at the local bar. Some wisps of smoke remained in the car despite Adler on his side having his window slightly open. Your eyes watching as it moved lazily and glancing towards the quiet, relaxed man next to you before you would turn to look back out. Curious to see more of the city besides in the backstreets and being stealthy.

You didn’t see much last night after Volkov, you falling asleep in the car as Park drove you. You were too out of it when they arrived at the hotel, just absentmindedly listening and nodding along to Park’s directions and promptly knocking out once you reached your room on the bed. Only to awake once more at the alarm you or someone else must’ve set early in the morning.

You were focusing on that instead of the last time you were in the car with Adler.

“You’ll like where we’re going. Trust me.”

You took a sneaky glance towards the man once more, just as the man exhaled out a cloud of smoke that you watched. Enraptured in how it moved to and fro lithely, easily as your nose took in the smell before you glanced back at Adler, the side facing you being his ‘good’ side.

You wonder once more of his scar that accentuated this man’s beauty—all harsh lines that created a map that even now you wish to trace. For someone like this to earn the title America’s Monster, all styled wheat hair, suede shades, and an easy, wry tone—it should at least match the title.

Than again, you thought with faltering wax wings and of another—the fall of a devil with none. It was never about his looks was it?

“It’s a small price to pay.”

What does that make you?

“Alright, kid,” he says, taking out of your stupor as you stared fully at the man now. Smoke releasing out his mouth as he spoke, making you lower your gaze to it. “I’ll bite. What do you want to ask me? Must be a juicy question since you keep burning holes to the side of my face.”

Embarrassment colored your face, caught, as you quickly adjusted your gaze to straight ahead and instead watching raindrops going down the windshield.

“It’s nothing.”

“Mmm. For some reason, I can’t believe that. What did I say before?”

You said a lot of things before, you thought with a sad frown. But you knew what he was referring to. Always wants to be the one you tell all your worries and concerns to. Before, you thought it was genuine. Now, you just see it as how it was—a cloak to observe and make sure if your true real memories came or if they needed to give you a dose.

“Your scar,” you began as he tilted his head towards you, hair moving as he did so as he kept his one hand casually to the wheel while the other was leaning against his door. You didn’t get distracted by it. “How’d you get it? There’s a story there.”

“Scar?” He asked in false confusion, still stoic outside of a cocked brow and making your lips twitch up despite yourself. Before motioning with his cigarette hand towards his face. “You mean this? Is it noticeable?” At your unamused huff though your nose, he continued. “Back in ‘73, I was nearly killed by a tiger while on a mission in Malaysia. But human ingenuity still runs the animal kingdom.” He turned his head towards you when they reached a light, his brows rising above his glasses. “You ever been attacked by a tiger, Bell?”

You stared at him in disbelief before releasing a surprised snort. The nerve of this man.

“You’re lying. That’s not from a tiger, it would be worse than that. You and your need to tell stories. . .” You mumbled the last part, you don’t think he heard that.

“Didn’t know you were an expert on tigers, Bell. Got a degree in zoology under your belt that I don’t know about? What makes you think I’m lying?”

“Because—“ That’s not what you said last time. You stopped, a realization going through you. Because of course he’ll lie to you about this too. Worse kind of crowd, your ass. “If you got that from a tiger than I must be a distant cousin of Joseph Stalin.”

“That unbelievable, huh?” He said more than asked, amused at your sarcasm as you looked at him with crossed arms as the car moved once more. “Fine. I’ll give. I jumped on a roof in Calcutta back in ‘75 while chasing a Soviet agent. The jump was successful . . . the landing not so much. Advice: always know where the utility poles are.” At your deadpanned look when he glanced at you, his lips quirked into a humored smirk. “That one didn’t hit the mark for you either? Was it the jump?”

You shook your head, a small groan leaving your lips as you leaned your head against the dashboard.

“Anybody who’s anybody can jump from roof to roof,” you replied, staring at your leather boots—forehead pressed against the dashboard and maintains it there even as they turned or there was a bump. “You know that. Just like you know a utility pole would’ve either choked you or electrocuted you. At least with electrocution it’d be more scars throughout instead of that part of your face.”

“Watch the cockiness, kid.” He reprimanded but than, “You’re right though. Roof jumps the standard when it comes to our work. But you’re really confident that I don’t have any other scars throughout the rest of me. Know something I don’t?” Your eyes darted towards him, wide and as they passed a street light, you noticed he was peering down at you in turn. Your skin burned as you looked away and mumbled no while staring at your very interesting shoes. The man hummed. “How about this. You know what they say about kids falling in with a bad crowd? Let’s just say I fell in with the worst part of a bad crowd. The girl wasn’t worth it, believe me.”

At your silence, he glanced at you.

“What? That’s the one you believe?” You gave a small shrug. When he first told you that, you didn’t ask any more questions. It sounded personal the way he said it. Truthful. Adler always lies. “What makes this one believable? The lack of a specific date or are you a sucker for romance, Bell?”

You threw him a meaningful look up at him. Not feeling the need to say anything. At his arched brow though, you opened your mouth.

“Your ex-wife.”  His brow flattened at that. Something shifting in the air. “Was she worth it?”

A beat. A passing of street lights. The pitter patter of rain against the car.

“A romantic than. . .Never saw you as the type.” At your probing stare and his silence, you turned away. Seeing he won’t answer—too private. You’re a fool to even think he will say the truth at all. “Once.” You blinked, turning your eyes back up and lifting your head in attention as America’s Monster—a secret, a peek through the shades, a hint of something real besides the cold, black abyss, what are you Russell Adler—spoke ever so softly. A sardonic turn of chapped lips. “You can say we had a difference of opinion. Not much to it.”

There was more but you will take what you can get.

You thought of the memories you had, of friends you once believed were your own. Of little moments in beaches and camps and villages when all was calm and not chaotic with smell of burnt bodies or blood or how it feels to stab a bayonet through someone’s chest in defense. You could see them as clearly as any other memory you had. And feel it.

You thought of the poor soldier leaving a war only to get into another one in his home country.

“Larson. . .” you murmured, Adler hearing as he released a dry chuckle.

“Sort of like Larson. The poor bastard.” You watched him take a deep inhale, the cigarette almost a near stub. And you realize when that happens, he’s stressed. As stressed as a man like him could be. You’ve seen him in many moments in Vietnam. Not always the best. You wonder if that was another reason for your death. Adler exhaled a puff before having to throw the cigarette out the window with a flick, putting the window all the way up. “I don’t see why you’re so interested either way. Scars aren’t that impressive. Unless you always had a habit about asking for one’s ugly mug.”

You darted up at his eyes, shaded as they were, trying to sense if he was being serious.

Because he couldn’t be.

Not this man, with strikes of lightning upon his face as if Zeus did it himself. All power. Grace. Strength. Different from your barely functioning wax wings as you struggle to fly. Only able to watch and hope a falling demon crashes to its death—all harsh and slow.

What are you, Russell Adler?

Perhaps he is Zeus himself.

Perhaps how Adler got his scar was harsh retribution to control lightning, his scars even mimic those powerful strikes across his face. All strength. And all beauty. Those who survived struck by lightning always have the most beautiful marks upon their skin indicating their survival—you are selfishly bias though. Even now, you admit with self-loathing. The rougher marks on his face is all grace and you could wonder how he truly got it instead of fantasizing him as a God Of Lightning who mistook his own power upon his face.

It would only make sense. Both beautiful men, although you’ve never met the Greek God.

They both also have a habit of hurting women.

He’s all of that, while you could only hope with your squeaky levers and ropes and feathered wax can go up to said Mount Olympus where he was. A naïveté where you think you’re close with tired and sore arms only to be burnt away. A free fall down to the abyss.

Good pups stay in their place.

“You’re joking.” You accuse seriously as you stared up at him, your head against the dashboard but tilted slightly in his direction.

Adler tilted his head down slightly to stare down at you, a brow arched at your look.

“About?”

You didn’t say anything.

Just meaningfully looked up at him through your lashes, staring at his jaw that was strong as if Michaelengelo carefully carved it himself with minute details with his trusted mallet and chisel until dawn with a candle on his head due to determined ingenuity. Observing how the collar of his shirt did not do a good job in hiding his neck, his favorite jacket failing in that too so you could take it in. Not one strand was mussed or out of place on his head, all volume and thickness as your gloved hand twitched by your knee.

You than met the shades, in turn meeting his eyes as your heart seemed to pound as he stared down at you back. A look passing through his eyes too quick for you to catch, besides what you saw in your peripherals. The hand on the wheel tightening an iota as the air shifted to something heavier, blood pumping as your mind thought of reasons as to why which you pushed away. Impossible.

You licked your dry lips nervously, Adler’s expression seeming to tense when his eyes followed the action. You turned away, looking back down except to play with the ends of your gloves, neck hot and spreading.

You still felt his stare before he focused back onto the road.

They didn’t speak the rest of the ride.

Foolish dog should mind their eyes.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▷ ▷ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

You couldn’t sleep much when you reached your room, another floor to Adler’s and near Park’s, and not just due to how you were more one with the night.

You opened Pandora’s Box—something forbidden coming out into the world as you thought back to the meaningful stare between you and Adler in the car. That even the thought makes your heart pound once more. Your brain further muddling and melting away the more you spend time alone with that man. Whether in being caught in his pace or just the mere thought of what he’s done.

Although, you suppose you already opened a Pandora’s Box. Possibly even darker than the one you discovered.

If the monster in man’s skin was Zeus—he created the box in the first place. Except he wished to hide it from you and keep you willfully ignorant instead of tease you to release envy and greed and disease out in the world. You managed to open it—and it was none of those things, it was cruel and inhumane to you all the same.

Take this needle and follow the story, do the trick.

If only that box stayed close.

Zeus always did like to confuse.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ◁ ◁ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

You let out a heavy sigh, hand mussing your hair harshly as you chewed your lips, staring at the paper on the center table of the safehouse.

“Having trouble?”

You slightly jumped as Adler, who was quiet in the seat across and to the side of you, spoke. Looking mildly curious at all the papers on your side of the table before taking a small puff. You sighed, looking back down at the paper in slight frustration.

“Just a little. Whoever made this code created a difficult to encrypt language. I have some of the numbers though already, it’s just the rest. I’ve never seen such an elaborate one before. . .” You said in thought as you tapped your pen against the paper. “I have to say, it’s impressive.”

Adler hummed idly, taking note of your words.

“Perhaps you need a sort of incentive.”

You moved your eyes up in confusion, wondering what that could mean. Only to stop once you noticed what was in his opposite hand not holding his precious cigarette.

It was a picture—a polaroid specifically. But not just any one. You stared at your oldest friend in the picture, taken on the rooftops in East Berlin, his face tilted down and a level of focus and calm as he stared down below in his crouched position. The lights behind him giving him an ethereal glow, a mix of white, red, and blue as those shades on his face gave a little glint due to it.

You reached a hand to see it better only for Adler to click his tongue, taking the picture back closer to him with a shake of his head.

“Sorry, kid. Can’t exactly be incentive if I gave it to you easily like that. You seem eager though.” Adler arched a brow at you. “Any reason as to why?”

Your cheeks prickle as you cursed in your mind. Why didn’t you get the film from the red room or Park yourself? You thought of a T.V. turning on it’s own, flashbacks to what happened in Vietnam on the screen, the memory sobering you up. You still. . .haven’t told Adler about that. He’ll call you soft and put you solely in the safehouse with no more field missions. You hate his disappointment. Still though, you recall you were determined to get it. A quick in and out but than. . . something? Something. . . happened?

At your brows furrowing deeply, Adler’s own brows furrowed and you answered his silent question as you touched your head.

“Sorry. . . That coma I woke up from still has done a number on me.”

“You did get shot twice, Bell. You have issues with always trying to push me out the way, even back in ‘Nam.” You smiled at his tease. You did have a protective streak. But only for certain people—even if you knew Adler could handle himself, you would do what you must for him if he told you an order. Or even go against it if it involved him doing something stupid like a sacrificial mission. You’d follow him anywhere. “Don’t think too much on it. I’m sure the rest of your memories will come back soon enough.  Just remember in the end that mission was a success.”

“Whatever it takes, sir.” You said, a phrase that he spoke often back in the war. Which you would repeat. You would always do what you must.

Adler’s expression shadowed as he nodded once.

“Whatever it takes,” he glanced at the polaroid in his hand, it facing him as he seemed to stare in thought before turning his gaze towards you. Your expression curious as you wondered what he was thinking before he turned the picture back towards you, brow up inquisitively. “Well, Bell? Don’t think you’re going to dodge the question as to why you want this? I went through a bit of trouble to let Park let me have it. She’s stubborn when she wants to be.”

You slightly scowled at him, feeling the blush once more.

You hated when he did that blasted rhyme!

You also had a sense there was more to him asking Park but you were too busy trying to defend yourself. Not think about their daily quiet pissing match.

“I like taking pictures. It’s an art form. Every artist would like to have their own paintings,” you said, tone even and you wanted to pat yourself in the back for that.

Adler rose both his brows now.

“Really?” The way he said it made it seem he doubted you. “Not a photographer. Was never really interested in art either so maybe that’s why I can’t relate. Still. It’s a good picture, my good side and all. Can see why you would want it.”

You restrained yourself from saying what you wanted like last time. That basically you would want that picture even if it was on his scarred side.

“It had good lighting.” You added as Adler stared at his picture, cigarette being held in his lips. He turned back towards you, glasses slightly falling from his nose and you could see a hint of his eyes. A tease. You stared. His lips curved around the cigarrette, amused and indulging. You panicked. “I-It does!”

“I didn’t say anything. But say, the sooner you finish that code, the sooner you can have this—“ he paused, waving the hand with the polaroid”—piece of art of yours. Never thought I would say that but I guess there’s a first for everything.” He pocketed the picture back in his jacket, blowing his smoke away from you before he stood up and headed towards Sims only to add over his shoulder, “I’ll leave you to it. I know you got this.”

You stared as he walked over, the belief he had in you with those words moving around in your brain. You moved back to work, pointedly ignoring Lazar’s whistle—him able to hear some of what occurred no doubt. You threw him an impolite gesture that only made the man laugh as you focused on the code. It took you three tiring and near sleepless nights, but you finished. Adler handing you the photo in between his fingers as you took it gently, trying not to crinkle the photo further as Adler watched you behind his shades as you held the photo, taking a thoughtful inhale of his cigarette before looking away. Looking around their surroundings outside the safehouse. Their break time spot.

“You sure got talent, kid.”

“You should know by now to not doubt me, Russ,” you replied, your eyes still on the photo between your gloved hands. “Only the best of the best with you. Just took me longer than I thought.”

“Watch that confidence doesn’t blind you one day, Bell.”

“You first.”

He chuckled at that, breathless and surprised making you stare up with wide eyes. The sound rare. Adler tapped the end of his cigarette, ash going on the ground as he stared towards the doors of the safehouse, an echo of a smile on his face. Barely there. Others wouldn’t see it, but you’ve known Adler for years.

“You got guts. And spunk. Met my match with you it seems, kid. You know me too well. . .” Adler took a puff, deep as he trailed off, shades dark.

“That’s not a bad thing,” you say, lowering the photo in your hand. “Sims does too. Can’t exactly get rid of us that easy.”

“Sims has been through many missions with me, but not as much as you.” Adler explained calmly. “Some of those, I’m taking to my grave. If I breathe a word about it, I’ll have a bunch of people up my ass.”

You sense as if this was like a conversation from years ago, on a beach. Quiet and away from everyone in the camp, just the two of you talking about realities and soldiers. You think about that memory a lot.

You recall some of the memories he’s referring to.

You half shrugged, pocketing the photo in your bomber jacket as you leaned against the wall of the safehouse.

“What can you do? It was necessary. Besides, I can’t exactly tell anyone else either, Adler. Brutality is sometimes necessary. That’s all I know.” You paused, tilting your head and throwing a teasing smirk his way to get him out this weird mood. “Don’t tell me America’s Monster actually cares what other people say?”

Adler deeply exhaled in exasperation, smoke coming out his nose.

“Don’t tease me, Bell. You know I can’t give a shit.”

“Than what’s the problem? You do what needs to be done. Make the tough calls. You know. . . you know I understand right?” You asked carefully. “I’m with you when it comes to doing what we must. To protect what we need to.”

Adler was silent. He never answered.

You didn’t push him. Didn’t feel the need.

You understood him the best.

Only monsters can see one another, after all.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▌▌✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

Monsters, you’ve come to know, are also a certain kind of creature that takes what they need.

To want. Selfish and uncaring and you should be concerned at how easily you take in those traits.

Too busy to worry about regular people—the mundane. There are bigger things to be focused on than other’s opinions on what actions are necessary.

You and Adler can give not one fuck about others. They know what they are and will accept the titles from others with a nod.

What you’re coming to find however, that even with monsters, there’s different breeds.

You basically reiterated to him that what he did with you was necessary. Needed. Sound brutality at its finest. You feel like you can’t even argue.

What is better—loyalty to a country or to people?

You’re trapped.

.

.

.

I have a problem. This story is going to be long when it was supposed to be short. Oh well. 

Also, hot take maybe, I love both Soft!Adler and Dark!Adler so let’s just have both sides of him shall we? Wait…is Adler truly soft here? Who knows.

DM me if you wish to be tagged please. ^////^

Tags:

@quizzyisdone @zulema117-blog @efingart  @pinkpinkboota @nuclear-boston @lifeisthemoments @jintana-critical @eclectriccanoeseven @hurricanesyd-blog @parkeepingparker @moonchild365-blog @aurora-windu @imperfectophelia @dvesinthewind @holy-crap-i-am-russlle-adler @i-will-give-you-love @adlerboi @preciouslilcreature @saynotohydra @mayaibnlaahad @smokeywhalee @0shuni0-blog @multi-fandom-imagine @littlepotatowizard  @direwolfspostsrandomshit @darlingor @collinnmckinley @kayalect @nikkibell1937 @fuzzybonkeggsopera @ppfedd @bro0kebxrter @actuallyilya @stayb1ack @frankwoodsmalewife @tr1ppylady @danjer

[loveofafangirl]

72 Hours

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

Pairing: Baron Zemo x Reader/You (no gender, race or body type described)

Synopsis: You are tasked with watching Zemo for the weekend while he assists you in providing tech support and intel to your teammates in the field.  *Sort of: Enemies to Lovers* *One-Shot: Not same “reader” as my other stories.

Word Count: 2.2K (sorry this is longer than I intended)

A/N: This is a request for @purebloodwitch, where y/n is part of the Avengers and used to taking care of everyone, but at Zemo’s safe house he starts taking care of her and she is uncomfortable at first. I hope this fits what you are looking for. I hope you enjoy it. 

3 days.

72 hours.

That's how long you had to suffer his company. You stare out the window, taking in the country view. The car was taking the two of you to one of his safe houses. You had wanted to go on the mission with the rest of your team, but you were the most organized and could most easily relay intel to different groups as you uncovered it. Plus, it had been decided you were the least likely to bring physical harm to him. Though, you weren't so sure at the moment.

You had been against Bucky's plan to release Zemo. You remembered the bombing at the U.N. and the fallout that began that day. You blame him for the Snap and the loss of so many of your colleagues. If he hadn't turned the Avengers against one another, maybe Thanos never would have collected all six Infinity Stones. Maybe no one would have vanished, tearing the world apart—twice: once when they disappeared and again when they returned. As far as you were concerned, Zemo was the catalyst that led to Thanos, the need for the GRC, and the rise of the Flagsmashers. Everything began that day at the U.N. 

You look at your watch:

71 hours and 26 minutes.

When you arrive at his safe house, he insists you let him hold the door for you. You had always stood on your own, caring for those around you. You weren't used to gestures such as these, nor did you want them, least of all from him. 

Your fists clench when he refuses to go in first. Reluctantly, you proceed, allowing him to hold each door for you.

"Would you like a tour?" He gestures grandly around the lavish apartment.

"No," you state coldly, ignoring his coy smile that seemed to dip slightly at your tone. "Just tell me where to set up."

"Perhaps by the windows," he suggested. "The panels are one way. You can see out, but no one can see in. It should give us a good vantage point to keep watch without being noticed." 

You begin moving the bags of equipment you brought.

"Allow me." Without waiting, he takes the bags from you and carries them to the area he had previously pointed out. 

You follow wordlessly.

"There you go."

You nod your gratitude, unable to bring yourself to say thank you to him.

"Is there anything else?"

"No. When I'm done setting up, you'll need to tell me everything you know about Project Typhon and get me the decrypted files you insisted that only you could access."

"Of course, I am at your service."

You keep an eye on him while working. You still couldn't believe you got stuck babysitting. Now your focus was split between the work and making sure he didn't get into any trouble. 

He moves about the kitchen, grabbing this and that. He returns with a tray in his hands containing a teapot, two cups and saucers, small sandwiches, and a tin of cookies. "I had the pantry stocked before our arrival."

You give him a curious expression.

"I did not want you believing they had been sitting for the years." 

"I'm good."

He pours two cups of tea, offering one to you. "You haven't eaten since early morning. Please, help yourself."

You breathe deeply, trying not to give in. You had packed some rations, but you hadn't eaten any yet. You hate how appealing everything looked. You begin reaching for it, but pull back, now convincing yourself it could be poisoned. You turn your attention back to your work after a quick glance at your watch. 

65 hours. 

The evening passes slowly. You juggle your Zemo-sitting duty with decoding his cryptic replies into useable intel to relay to the two teams you were monitoring while also keeping an eye out for any digital chatter that may hinder your mission.

"Why me?" You sigh to yourself, thinking back to how you had asked Sam that same question when he first told you this was your assignment.

"You're good with people, Y/N."

"So you're sticking me with him?" You pointed an accusatory finger over your shoulder to Zemo.

His head shifted to the side, "No offense taken. I understand the difficulties. If you allow me a moment to explain."

"You understand nothing," you chided. Your gaze narrowed to a glower. 

"Easy, Y/N," Bucky interjected. 

"You of all people—" Your head shook in disbelief. "I was there. I saw what he did."

"We need him. He's the lesser of two evils right now."

You crossed your arms, not sure that was true. 

Your thoughts drift back to the present. You check the time again:

63 hours.

Zemo lounges beside you, nursing a drink in his hand. "I surmised you would decline a drink like my own, so I brought you a coffee instead. I noticed you had a few over the past days." He gestures to the warm mug on the table beside you. 

The rich aroma captivated you as you breathe in its bold notes. You really needed it. Begrudgingly, you took your first sip. It is better than you expected. A hum of delight slips from your lips. 

Noting his growing smirk, you muster the strength, uttering, "Thank you." You surprise yourself at the sound of your tone. It was much more cordial than you had intended it to be. 

"It was my pleasure, Y/N."

The two of you remain in silence, except for the occasional exchange needed for the mission. You were so focused on the job you hadn't even noticed him refill your coffee cup until you picked it up, expecting to savor the last drops but found a full cup met you instead. 

He kept working, seemingly not looking for any credit. You didn't offer any, but you had to bite your lips back to stop a smile threatening to erupt. 

57 hours. 

You rub your eyes and stretch your arms. "I'm going to try to get some sleep. Don't even think about trying anything."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He stood as you made your departure. "Gute Nacht. Sleep well."

You walk away without looking back. You knew there were agents strategically placed along the perimeter so he wouldn't get far, but you still worried.

Warm sunlight streams in the window of the large bedroom, gently caressing your face. The mattress is so soft and amazing; it sucked you into its depths immediately, and you fell quickly. You nuzzle in the soft fabric of the bedding, not wanting to move. It was your best sleep in months, even though it was only for a few hours. You think to yourself that you could get used to this.

Your body tenses at the thought as you remember where you are. You jump out of bed and quickly get dressed. Your team is counting on you. You swipe your phone checking the time.

52 hours.

You head straight to your setup; your fingers float nimbly across the keyboard as you attempt to focus solely on your work. Your stomach growls, pulling your focus. The scent of bacon frying greets you. You turn toward the kitchen, and for the first time, notice Zemo.

He catches your eye. "Would you like to join me for breakfast? I've set the two places." Sensing your hesitation. "I can bring it for you as well."

You glance at your phone. No new communications from the team. No alerts from any of the traces you had set up. Nothing to keep you there. Before you know it, you're walking in his direction.

He moves around the counter, pulling out one of the high bar chairs for you. 

You sit, even allowing him to push it in for you, a warmth spreading over you. 

"Please." He gestures to the plate in front of you and takes the seat opposite you. "Enjoy." 

You nibble on a piece of bacon and let the taste linger on your tongue. It was just the way you liked it. He sips his black coffee, watching you enjoy the first bites. You cover your mouth, feeling self-conscious suddenly. You shake your head, trying to brush away the feeling as you question why you care what he thinks. 

Your phone lights up, but it's nothing important. You glance at the time 7:11. You try to remember why you cared. Your attention shifts once more to the man across from you; that was why. 

51 hours. 

The two of you go about the day. Zemo is more useful than you expected. He quickly decodes and unscrambles messages and relays them to the team. Like you, he thrives on analytics and strategic thinking. There were moments where you actually enjoyed the conversation that developed. 

A few times, your fingers brush against his while reaching for the same thing. He always offered his apologies with that smile that made you forget what he'd done that day.

Before you know it, he's bringing you dinner.

"Is it really that late already?" You question, glancing at the time. You accept the plate. "Thank you." 

You enjoy a pleasant evening together, sharing the meal he prepared for you. He was a great cook to your surprise. This was better than anything you had eaten at the Avengers compound lately. 

As the night lingers and you wait for your team to send you new intel, he tells you stories about Sokovia. Once, he mentions his son before pausing and quickly changing the topic. 

In your rush to label him as a terrorist because of that fateful day, you never listened to his reasonings. They didn't excuse his actions, but he wasn't the cold-hearted killer you had expected based on his military profile. He was just a man who lost his entire world. 

When you part for the evening, you gaze back, lifting your hand. "Good night, Zemo."

The next morning, you wake softly, breathing in the comfort of the bed. You reach for your phone; his file is still open from where you fell asleep reading it. You wanted to understand him. There was so much more than you gave him credit for. 

You realize you were wrong. He wasn't the cause of everything that happened. You were. Everything began not the day at the U.N., but that day in Sokovia, with Ultron, and with the Avengers. They had created Zemo; he was merely a product of their haste. They were the catalyst to their own undoing. He had just shone a light on it. 

You lie back thinking over the past two days—the conversations that you'd shared, the kindness he had insisted upon, even when you tried to care for yourself, and those small touches that elicited a feeling you couldn't understand. 

Your last day together followed much of the same patterns: sharing meals, breaking down and relaying intel, keeping watch.

You notice how at ease you are. Your body is calm with no tensions or worries. You hadn't checked the time since—well, you weren't really sure. A look of horror flashes on your face as you realize you were enjoying this—enjoying him. 

"What did I miss?" He questions, strolling in from his bath, still in his robe.

Your body flushes, and your eyes cascade over his form. Realizing what you had done, you turn away and clear your throat. "Can you please put some clothes on?" 

He shrugs and walks off. As soon as he turns away, you find yourself chewing your cheek as you watch him leave. "Snap out of it! The only thing that matters is the job," you scold yourself. 

For the rest of the day, you keep your distance, averting your gaze, and avoiding him as much as possible. When he wishes you good night, you don't reply, hurrying off as quickly as possible.

You hope to find reprieve in the quiet of your room in the comfort of the softest mattress you had ever known. However, you toss and turn all night, your mind restless with growing thoughts of him.

You skip breakfast, or so you had planned. When you didn't come out, he left it outside your door.

You pack up in silence, catching glimpses of his curious look. You know he is probably wondering what changed, but he doesn't pressure you.

As you leave, you take one glance back at the beautiful apartment.

He waits at the door, holding it open for you.

This time, you don't protest and even offer your thanks. A smile fills your face as he opens the car door too. 

Your eyes close, remembering all the good moments from the past 72 hours. Without thinking, you turn into him, brushing a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you." 

Your gaze lingers on his soft brown eyes longer than you intend. You feel trapped, unable to break away, but you don't want to either. You lick your lips, wanting more, but worrying what it would mean. You decide to go for it, but as you move to him, he's already there, meeting you halfway until he pulls you entirely into his embrace. His lips are warm and inviting. You feel the world around you melt away under his tenderness.

Your heart flutters when you finally pull away. "That's a one-time thing."

His head tilts to the side, considering your words, and then nods in agreement.

You get in the car, your gaze still focused on him, a devilish smirk forming on your lips. "Unless I decide it's not." 

Marvel Perma(til the end of the line): @the-soot-sprite​​​; @fandomxreaders ;  @moonstuffsteve​

Zemo tags: @montypythonsholysnail​​​ ; @killsandthrills​​​ ; @noavengers​​​ ; ​@nalabarnes1031 ; @trelaney​ ; @willowtheewisp​ ; @marchingicenotes7 ; @valquiria3000​

[schnedoop]

Servitude (Kaeya x Reader)

SUMMARY: You were just so sweet, so diligent, so noble. Too noble, if Kaeya’s honest. He’s glad that he was the first one to take advantage of it.

WARNINGS: dubcon/noncon

TAGS: cockwarming, PIV penetration, manipulation, abuse of power, asshole Kaeya

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

Kaeya can’t help but think that you would have made an amazing knight.

You were born with all the qualities needed for the job: a quick wit, a reassuring demeanor, a natural respect for the Anemo Archon, and a blinding devotion to serving the people of Mondstadt to top it all off. Inside you seemed to be a fierce combination of Diluc, Jean, Varka—and Kaeya can’t deny that, in your early training days, he sometimes saw himself in your unfailing persistence—and you seemed to carry everyone's best traits only, all weaknesses of character cast to the side.

Yes, the man muses, continuing to write his report. An amazing knight indeed. 

He still remembers how popular you were during your training years. Captains and soldiers alike stepped away from their taverns to spend their free time watching you, someone they all imagined to be the future of the Ordo, the next grandmaster, someone even Jean couldn’t hide her favoritism for.

Kaeya can’t say he blames any of them. He was always among the spectators, of course, watching you train, eavesdropping on your conversations in the mess hall, taking stalker-like measures to decode the enigma that was you.

In the beginning, it was out of wariness.

Kaeya was disinclined to believe that anyone could be so perfect, so pure. He assumed that you were putting up a facade, that the way you always took the long way home to help any citizens who crossed your path was nothing but a vicious scheme to gain Mondstadt’s trust so you could betray it—but soon, he learned that it wasn’t a lie. That you truly were this good a person. That your blinding naivety was natural, and not even a little feigned.

That was around when Kaeya began to watch over you, not as a potential threat, but as a subject of interest.

He found that everything about you was sincere. That you were one of the only knights who wouldn’t lie about their numbers for the bi-annual physical evaluations, who would spend their free time scouting out hillichurl camps and anonymously reporting them, who would wake up early to get extra training in, who would do anything and everything you could think of to better equip you to serve Mondstadt.

Kaeya found it endearing. You were so sweet, so diligent, so noble.

Too noble, if Kaeya’s honest. 

He’s glad that he was the first one to take advantage of it.

It started off with a casual comment during training. Your instructor was on bedrest after getting ambushed by some Electro slimes while swimming in a lake, so Kaeya had been asked to fill in. He paced down the line of your fellow soldiers-in-training slowly, offering loud compliments and gentle corrections to everyone he walked past, only for him to come to a halt at you.

“Come on, I’m sure you can do better than that. Training is no joke, cadet. Please take this seriously.”

You practically froze when he said that to you. 

His words were whispered, hushed low into your ear as if Kaeya didn’t want to embarrass you by chastizing you publicly, as if Kaeya was still the amicable Cavalry Captain everyone knew him to be, as if his criticism of you was genuine and wasn’t a stupid lie to make you question yourself.

It took all of Kaeya’s self-restraint to keep his expression neutral as he moved on. No doubt, it was the first time anyone had ever spoken to you as if you were failing to meet expectations instead of surpassing them—and Kaeya half-expected you to protest, to argue that you were doing a better job than everyone else in the room. 

He was pleasantly surprised when you mumbled an even more determined “Yes sir,” before continuing. 

A perfect soldier indeed. 

After that, you seemed determined to impress Kaeya. He could see the hierarchy in your mind: the fact that, although Jean was higher in authority, her praise meant less to you than Kaeya’s because he was the only one to not be impressed.

After you set your sights on impressing him, it was all over for you.

Crushing your spirit was an easy feat for Kaeya. You were a brilliant soldier, probably the strongest recruit the Ordo has had since Diluc, but you were nothing exceptional when it came to mind games. The occasional “do you need a break, cadet?” and the more often “there’s no shame in admitting weakness, solder” began to wear into you. Whereas before you responded to his every criticism with a fierce determination to do better, Kaeya could sense the change when you began to think your efforts futile, when you began to feel like the Cavalry Captain you so wanted to impress would, seemingly, never find you as exceptional as everyone else did. 

Kaeya still remembers the devastated look on your face when you barged into his office at midnight on the eve of your official recruitment into the Ordo.

“What do I have to do?!” you blurted, hands balled in fists. “What do I have to do to make you think I deserve to be a knight?!”

Kaeya recalls how surprised he’d been at that. He stared at you, that night, with genuine shock at your outburst. 

Before, he assumed that your attempts to impress him had merely been out of a selfish desire to earn the praise of everyone around you. Yet, there you stood, cute little tears building in your eyes as you revealed that the true reason was that you felt bad joining the knights without his approval, as if Kaeya was some benchmark that you needed to pass.

Very well, the knight remembers thinking. With your official graduation from soldier-in-training to soldier, Kaeya had been prepared to release the possessive grip he had around you...but when you presented him with such an obvious opportunity to take what he wanted, who was he to resist?

“It’s not anything you can change, cadet. Some people are meant to be soldiers. Some people aren’t. I already know which kind you are, but it doesn’t matter.” 

Every word Kaeya said had been carefully placed. He phrased his response in a perfect way, all to prompt the inevitable question from your soft, sweet lips:

“A-and which kind am I?”

“Which kind of what?” Kaeya asked, pretending as if he was barely giving this conversation any thought. He brought his eyes down to the map that he was detailing, pretending to continue working on it. 

“Wh-which kind of knight do you think I am?”

Kaeya remembers how hard it had been to stop a vicious smile from spreading across his face.

“You don’t want to know, cadet.”

“I do, Captain! I really do! Y-your opinion matters to me!”

“Oh?” That had been the first time Kaeya placed his quill down. “So if I tell you that I don’t think you’re ready to be a knight, you’ll heed my advice?”

“Well…” 

Your sheepish expression had been almost too much to bear. 

“If you came here to ask for my opinion just to ignore it, I’d advise going elsewhere. Please don't waste my time. The Ordo will spend enough resources trying to turn you into a half-decent knight, so don’t disregard all of that by—”

“Why?” you practically sobbed. You’d come forward and placed your palms flat against the surface of Kaeya’s desk, a pose that would have been wholly intimidating if not for the tears building in your eyes. “Why don’t you think I’ll make a good knight? Why won’t I—” you’d broken off to wipe away the tears that had begun to spill. “Why won’t I be able to help the Knights of Favonius?”

Instantly, Kaeya had risen and walked over you to wrap you in his arms. 

You were confused, no doubt, because the captain had been anything but kind to you in your previous interactions, but you openly sobbed into Kaeya’s chest, gripping the fabric of his jacket weakly. 

“I j-just want to help—I just want to m-m-make Mondstadt safer—I j-just—just want—”

“Of course you can help,” Kaeya whispered gently into your ear, wiping your tears away. “You’d be an invaluable resource to the city. It’s just that serving as a knight would be useless when you could be so much more useful.”

That stole your attention.

Instantly, you looked up at Kaeya with hopeful eyes.

“R-really? You think I can...actually help?”

Kaeya remembers how even he had been unable to stop the cruel smile from spreading across his face when he realized that you genuinely believed his words all this time: thinking yourself lesser, weaker, inferior to your fellow cadets. 

“Of course you can,” Kaeya whispered into your ear, gentle as the setting sun. 

And in this way, he managed to persuade you in a single night to abandon your dreams of becoming a soldier. Easily, he made you understand that such a thing was futile. Soldiers were expendable, and when Kaeya asked you if you thought you were expendable, you shook your head like a good girl and said you wanted to be alive to protect Mondstadt, not a dead body that could do nothing.

Still, you would have made an amazing knight. 

Would have, but not anymore.

You were born with all the qualities you needed for the job—but one by one, Kaeya’s replaced them with smarter, more reasonable goals. Your once-quick wit has been refocused on pleasing Kaeya, on figuring out whether he’d rather hear “yes, sir” or “thank you, sir” based on the question he poses you with. The calm, reassuring demeanor that once drew people into you is now nonexistent, completely replaced with something more obedient. The respect you used to allot the Anemo Archon has been redirected onto Kaeya: because what has Barbatos actually done for you? Kaeya is the one who’s given you a home, a purpose—it’s him that you pray to every day when you get on your knees.

The one thing that has remained constant is the devotion you carry for the people of Mondstadt: but that, too, has shifted.

Where you once wished to serve your people by protecting them on the front lines, you now understand that your purpose is to personally aid the superiors who already know how to do the job, to make Kaeya happier so that he can protect the nation for you. 

It was hard, at first.

But your mind is pliant, now, moldable and malleable as Kaeya wraps a hand around your naked hip to halt your grinding.

“Now, now,” he chides, kissing your shoulder as he continues to write his report. “None of that. I’ll fuck you nice and good after I’m done with this, so don’t distract me.”

“But—but sir,” you whine, wriggling your hips gently on top of Kaeya as if hoping that it’ll convince him to forgo the report and fuck you now. 

Internally, Kaeya appreciates how well you’ve acclimated to your new life. Externally, he clicks his tongue and lays a slap against your bare bottom, ignoring your delighted giggle.

“Be a good girl and let me focus. These are important documents, okay? You being here only helps me work if you’re not trying to distract me. Or do you not want to help Mondstadt out after all?”

That line always works, and you instinctively coil in on yourself, ashamed as you halt your playful teasing and rest your head on Kaeya’s shoulder. 

“I—I want to help Mondstadt…”

“I thought so. So be a good girl and keep my cock warm until I’m done.”

And you do a good job of it. Oh, you do such a good job, your little cunt clenching down on Kaeya the whole time as he proofreads his report once, then twice (and then thrice, though that’s more to torture you than it is to actually check for mistakes)—and when Kaeya finally tucks his report inside an envelope, sealing it with the crest of the Cavalry Captain, he knows you deserve a reward.

“Good girl,” he coos, slipping his gloves off to massage the soft flesh of your ass with his bare hands. “How did that feel? What do you want me to do to you?”

“Felt good,” you whisper, and Kaeya loves the shudder that runs down your spine when he drags a finger to circle at your clit. “P-please, Sir. Want more. I-if you have time. If you're busy with your captain duties...I can w-wait. But if not. Please.”

So cute, Kaeya thinks, loving how even now, months after you’ve been isolated from the world, you still cling to the naive hope that somehow, being Kaeya’s private slut is contributing to the prosperity of Mondstadt. Not that it’s something Kaeya will ever correct. He can keep you here for as long as you believe you want to be here, so he won’t do anything to jeopardize your innocent naivety. 

“Hmm, you’re going to be more specific than that, sweetheart. What do you want more of?”

“You, Sir,” you gasp, rolling your hips down on Kaeya’s cock to enunciate your point. “Wanna get fucked. Pretty please.”

“Oh?” Kaeya chuckles, lifting you up and laying you down on his desk, not caring about the paperwork your body is sprawled over because goddamn, you look hot like this, tits exposed, face flushed, pupils dilated, like the only thing you can think about is Kaeya’s cock and how bad you want it.

“You don’t want anything else?”

Normally, this is the part where you deliver a mumble about Mondstadt and how you want prosperity for the nation. Those comments have been getting more and more halfhearted recently, overshadowed by your larger desire for the overwhelming pleasure that Kaeya, and today—

Today, you forget about your so-called love for Mondstadt altogether.

“No,” you babble, wrapping your legs around Kaeya’s hips, desperately trying to tempt him into fucking into you. “No, Sir, don’t want anything but you so please, please, please—”

A breathy laugh falls from Kaeya’s lips as he leans over to press a quick kiss to your forehead. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” His hands find your hips, slender fingers digging in to grip them with bruising force as he prepares to wreck you from the inside. “I’ll always give you what you want.”