#and ended up standing above the rock as if you were on a platform | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

some-bunniii · 9 months ago

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Lucifer breaks your deal with Alastor

・❥ Your soul is owned by Alastor, and Lucifer is not pleased about it.

x: OVER 20k words!? strap in ya’ll, it’s a roller coaster.

xx: reader is g/n. no use of y/n. if you want to read it in chapter-form, you can read it over on my ao3 here.

warnings: adult themes, abuse, angst

‘Alright, deep breaths. You’ve got this. You’ve practiced this so much it’s a cakewalk, so just take it easy. You’ll rock it, like always.’

“Oi! Welcome to the show, ya dirty sinners! Didn’t think ya’d see me all the way up here, did’ja?!”

Screams and cheers echoed from the seats below, as the voice of the King of Greed boomed from the loudspeakers.

"Well, listen up, ya pitiful souls! I've got a craving for some more cash, so I've decided to bring the whole shebang right here to the heart of sin, Pentagram City!"

The cheering erupted once more, the spotlights danced across the sandy pit underneath the large circus tent. On the perimeter were rows and rows of stands, packed with demons nestled against each other.

It was Mammon’s first circus show in the Pride Ring, a very rare sight to see him leave his cozy little ring in general. But, when a good portion of your fans are sinners who can’t leave without being incinerated, then you have to receive them on their home turf.

In the large pit, two lions jumped obediently through hoops, their handlers shouting commands and cracking their whips to further spur the cat’s maneuvers.

Bright green flame danced around the lion’s faces, resembling that of a large mane. Their eyes were soulless, black pits that glimmered in the bright lights as they continued maneuvers through the tight obstacles.

On the edges of the pit, support poles towered above the crowd. Thin wires snaked across them, anchored to large platforms that hung in the air from the pole’s side.

“As ya can see, we’ve got a big show tah’night! Lots of great fuckin’ acts for ya mongrels to eat up. But, before we get to the juicy bits, direct your eyes up to the ceiling to get a look at our first performance!”

Hundreds of gazes lifted to sky, the spotlights below beaming upward towards a platform at one end of the tent.

Bright, white lights hit your vision, and you squinted your eyes to prevent them from burning to a crisp from the focused beams.

You stood, your bare feet planted firmly against the platform’s white surface. Before you, a tightrope connected your place to another platform in the distance, beckoning you.

A small hoop hung from the ceiling, encircling a small portion of the wire. The trick was that it was too small for you to stand up straight while walking through it, so you’d need to limbo underneath it.

"As you can see, we've got some sorry sap up there that is about to practically walk on thin air! See that hoop over there? They're fixin' to stroll right through it."

Small ooh’s and ahh’s emanated from the crowd, their eyes darting from you to the hoop.

"But hold your horses, folks! That ain't your run-of-the-mill hoop, no sir! That, my friends, is a hoop on fuckin’ fire!!”

Suddenly, the hoop ignited in a burst of green flames, illuminating the area before you. Gulping, you took another deep breath, steadying yourself.

Okay, well, you knew that was gonna happen. You’ve just never actually practiced with the hoop on fire, but it shouldn’t be too hard.. right?

You nodded to yourself, assuring your racing thoughts that everything was gonna be alright.

The skin-tight suit you were wearing sparkled in the spotlight, dazzling the spectators with a red gleam as you hovered right over the edge of the platform, waving to the crowd.

You had been performing ever since you could remember, and this was just another part of the job. You weren’t a part of Mammon’s original crew though, only being given the opportunity when they arrived at Pentagram City.

You were a Sinner, which meant being confined to the Pride Ring just like the rest. Fortunately, one of Mammon’s acrobats was too sickly to perform, so when you saw the large poster detailing auditions, you jumped at the opportunity to make some extra bucks.

You had arrived at the settled convoy of vehicles and trailers at the outskirts of the city, you were ecstatic. You hadn’t performed in an actual circus in forever, and the make-shift village of performers and equipment was a fresh sight.

Mammon himself was a… colorful character. He was a hard party rocker with a big ego, and most likely had a swear jar at home overflowing with pennies, with how that guy talked.

You hadn’t really met him when you auditioned, but you could definitely hear him. He was loud, practically demanding everyone’s attention even when he wasn’t addressing them.

You could hear him yelling about an absent performer, annoyance evident in his voice as he berated an assistant.

"What do ya mean he couldn't make it to practice 'cause he lost his voice? He's a bloody mime, mate! What the hell are we payin’ these blokes for!?"

When you had performed for the recruiters—which you were surprised to find wasn’t Mammon, since the guy seemed to stick his nose in everything—you displayed to them your . A few somersaults, a bit of ariel silk action, and the classic, juggling.

“How good is your balance?” One of them had questioned, their pen tapping softly against the wooden desk, as they considered your skills.

“Good enough, I suppose.” You replied truthfully.

Long story short, you got the gig. Although, when you heard they wanted you to tightrope under a hoop, that was a little surprising.

Good thing you weren’t afraid of heights, or this would have been a nightmare.

Backing away from the edge, your gaze rested on the hoop aflame in front of you. After Mammon would finish speaking, you’d begin your act.

"But that ain't the only thing heating up tonight, folks."

Wait, what did he mean by that?

“‘Cause the tightrope… is also on fire!!!”

What?!

The crowd went berserk hearing that. They whooped and hollered, as their twisted little fantasies came true before their eyes.

“Oh, god damnit, Mammon!” You muttered.

When you told them you had a pretty good pain tolerance, that did not mean resistance to fire!

You sighed, it was a little too late to back out now. Plus, you needed the money. Bouncing on your toes, you attempted to hype yourself up.

Exhaling a large breath, your foot lifted from the stand, and slowly reached out towards the tightrope.

‘Fuck, this is going to hurt.’ you groaned internally, your toe just inches from the wire. You could feel the heat of the fire as it hungrily licked at your feet.

Right as you were about to place yourself onto the wire, you felt something tugging at the back of your collar.

It was deathly cold, and you tried to pull away from its touch, but whatever was holding you had a strong grip. A thick green fog-like substance pooled at your feet, and you looked down in confusion as it began to circle around your figure.

You felt the force on your collar harshly pull you backwards, and your feet lifted from the ground. The smoke became so thick in front of you, it was only the bright lights from the spotlights below that gave you any visual. Suddenly, large eyes began to dot your vision, staring directly at you, into your hollow being.

“What the fu-”

Darkness suddenly covered your vision, and you felt like you were floating in mid-air. Though, you couldn’t tell where exactly in the air you were, other than the fact the surface below you had completely vanished.

You tried to peel your eyes open, but whatever had thrusted you into this chilling realm would not let you get a glimpse of your surroundings. It wasn’t until you felt your feet hit firm ground, and a much less intense light hit your eyelids. You opened them slowly, your mouth still partially open.

“-ckkkk?” You finished, your eyes darting from one side of the mysterious room to the other. It looked strange.. to say the least. It was old, a little run down. It screamed tacky.

You observed the room again, trying to find anything familiar that could gauge your location.

Were you in a hotel lobby? But, why? How? You’ve never been here before, nor did you know anyone who stayed at such a dump.

“Ah, there you are, my friend! What a pleasure to see you!”

You pivoted sharply to face behind you, and your eyes widened in shock at the familiar face.

Standing before you, a large toothy-grin plastered across his face, was Alastor. The owner of your soul, your eternal boss, the Radio Demon, and the butt end of most of your unfunny jokes—which you would never dare say in front of him.

“You!”

Your finger lifted, pointing accusingly at the tall, red demon. He only tilted his head amusingly at you, that smile only growing wider as you frowned.

“Yes, it is I. I’m glad you remember my face, how are you today?”

“What do you want?” You grumbled, ignoring his question. You crossed your arms before taking a step back. There were others behind him, but it was Alastor you were focused on as you waited for his response.

“Oh, just some charity work. My new friends over here are in need of some more helping hands, so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services!”

He motioned to the others behind him, and you glanced at the strangers. One of them was a woman with long, platinum-blonde hair, who smiled awkwardly at you with a wave.

“That’s great!” You replied sarcastically, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “but couldn’t you wait until after my gig? I was about to make some good money!”

Alastor only sidled up to you, before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his cheek as if you two were best friends. You wanted to recoil from his touch, but you knew you’d get nothing good out of that action.

“Oh, I am terribly sorry about that, my friend. But, we do have an agreement, as I'm sure you are well aware. Which means, for the time being, you’ll be living here at the hotel!”

Of course you were aware of the “agreement”, the guy had your soul!

“What hotel?”

“The Hazbin Hotel! What do you think about the name, hm? I came up with it myself!”

“It’s kind of lame.”

“Oh-ho! You are such a charm, my dear! I can always count on you to liven up the room with your jokes.”

You sighed, uncrossing your arms and lowering them to your sides in defeat. You were stuck here, with Alastor, until he no longer needed your presence. As always.

“I still would have appreciated a call beforehand or something.”

“Take my arrival back in the city as the call, my friend. My return was no doubt discussed by many. You knew I’d acquire your assistance at some point.”

Yes, that’s right. Alastor had been gone a good, what, seven years? It was strange, how he had just disappeared without a word or any kind of clue to his location. Where had he gone? Why was he being so secretive about it?

You didn’t miss him, of course. His absence was a mini vacation for you, a break from endless favors that he deemed you worthy to complete. What a joke.

“Now, why don’t we go and introduce you to all these fantastic fellows, hm?” He spoke, a command deep in his static-laced tone.

You turned back towards the small group of demons, who stood a few feet away silently as the two of you bickered. Standing slightly away from the rest, was a familiar furry face. Husker. He was here too?

Nudging you forward with his cane, you walked up to the onlookers, who regarded you with a mixed expression. The shorter gray lady stood glaring at you with suspicion, her eyes darting between you and Alastor.

Beside her, was that pretty pale-faced demon in the red tuxedo. She smiled broadly at you, her eyes practically gleaming in excitement at seeing the multiple new faces.

“Hello! My name is Charlie, and this is my hotel! I'm so glad to have you aboard!”

“..Hi, it’s good to meet you too.”

“Let me introduce you to our crew! Over there is my girlfriend, Vaggie!”

She motioned towards the shorter gray woman, and you looked at her more carefully. She had an X across her eye, barely visible with the long hair she situated across half her face. She still eyed you with suspicion, but her demeanor had softened as Charlie spoke to you.

“And, over there is Angel Dust, our first resident of the hotel!”

“How ya doing, Sugar?” Angel winked at you, as he leaned against the bar counter. Husk stood behind the counter, a thin line on his lips.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with Husker and Niffty, right?”

You nodded, your gaze meeting Husk’s. His eyes softened just a teeny bit, before he let out a hmph and turned away towards the shelves of bottles against the wall.

Your attention turned back to Charlie, as she began filling you in with the details about the hotel and her plans.

She seemed like a sweet girl, passionate and imaginative. When she described her dreams to you, for the hotel, for the entirety of Hell, you listened carefully.

Sinners.. being redeemed? Going to Heaven? That seemed too good to be true. Unbelievable, almost. Sure, some of the demons down here weren’t too bad, but surely none of them were good enough to actually climb to the pearly gates.

Charlie seemed… different from other dreamers, though, like she could actually get it to work. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what made you think so. Maybe it was because she was the princess of Hell, and was the second highest on the food chain of this damned place.

You were lucky with how down-to-earth she was, or your bluntness would have probably gotten you smited by now.

In comparison to Charlie, you were a nobody. Well, you were nobody in general. You didn’t own anything of value, not even your soul.

Charlie didn’t act like a princess though. Such as how she spoke to you, and her friends. No command in her tone, no true motives behind layers of smiles and sweetly spoken lies.

If she was the owner of your soul, maybe life wouldn’t be so bad. She treated everyone fairly, without judgment of who they used to be. Only dreaming of who they could be.

Was the King of Hell the same? How much did Charlie mirror her father, anyway?

“So.. what can you do?” Charlie broke you from your thoughts, she was turned to you, her gaze meeting yours intently as she waited for you to respond.

“Well, I'm a performer! Mostly aerobatics, but I can dance and other tricks. Oh! I’m also a crowd-pleaser, i’m a really smooth talker.”

“That’s ssooooo cool! You do that kind of stuff, like, in the circus?”

“Mostly, yes. Any odd jobs I can find looking for my skill set, really. I’m not picky when it comes to money.”

Charlie contemplated your words for a moment, her eyes darting. She’s already got a bartender and a cleaning lady, but where to put you…

“I’m also fantastic at pick-pocketing.” You grinned pridefully at her. It was something you were very good at, and that you had continued to perfect during your time in Hell.

It was also what led you to make that wretched deal with Alastor.

“Oh.. um, let’s stick with your other skills, hm?” Charlie smiled awkwardly, before she turned her head, and her eyes landed on an empty desk situated near the large entrance doors.

She perked, her eyes widening in glee as she spun around towards you.

“That’s it! You can be our new receptionist! You’ll answer calls and greet all our newcomers, and you’ll be in charge of making sure all our guests are well taken care of during their stay.”

Your smile faltered, your gaze resting on the desk behind Charlie before meeting her eyes once more. You chuckled like she had just told you a good joke. Except when your eyes met hers again, she only smiled at you in anticipation.

Wait, was she serious?

“I’m sorry,” you started, lifting your hands up and shaking your head, “but that is not something i’m good at nor-“

“Well I think it’s a splendid idea!” Alastor appeared besides you, his hand resting on your shoulder. His claws dug slightly into your suit, and you whipped your head up, eyeing him with animosity.

His eyes were squinted, a glare behind that wide grin. ‘Stay in line, or else.’ was his silent command. You scrunched up your nose, ready to argue, but the intellectual part of your brain smacked you upside the head.

Your shoulders drooped, that frown deepening before you turned to Alastor. You pulled your shoulder from his grip, and looked at Charlie.

“Fine.”

And, that’s how it was for a time.

There wasn’t much to do, in all honesty. As the months ticked by, you sat at that desk drowning in boredom. The people at the hotel were lively, but the job? Not so much.

While Alastor was the face, you were the paperwork. Although, he barely acted like it, which meant you took most of the work.

There were barely any phone calls, any new visitors, anything new at all really. So, you instead filled your days with walking around the hotel, observing the rooms of any renovations that Alastor could make, or you’d write shopping lists for groceries and other miniscule items for the crew, and going out yourself to shop.

There was that one demon, the snake inventor, that had become a resident during your time working. You had been there, when he attacked Alastor on the hotel’s doorstep. Your mouth agape as you watched him tear a piece of your boss’s suit, waiting for the snake to meet his death.

He didn’t, surprisingly. Instead, he had arrived not too long after apologizing. Which was shocking, and.. eye opening.

Could Charlie’s dream come true? Alastor spoke of it as if it would turn into nothing but a failure. You had believed him, but now, that doubt was fading from your mind.

Could.. there be a chance for you too?

You had mentally slapped yourself for that thought. You, redeemed? With no soul, you were trapped here. Only ever being able to watch from the sidelines as those more worthy ascended.

Thoughts like that only came when you had drank a little too much. Finger mindlessly circling the rim of your wine glass, brow furrowed as you lamented over your poor decisions, you’d sit at the bar in silence late at night.

Nobody bothered you during those times, not even Alastor. No one saw the way your lip began to quiver, the way your vision blurred with tears.

No one noticed the surface of your drink disturbed with a droplet of salty sadness as it mixed with the bitter alcohol.

‘You don’t deserve to feel sorry for yourself,’ you’d think bitterly, soaked anger spilling down your cheeks, ‘you damned yourself to eternal suffering the moment you shook that demon’s hand.’

Taking the glass, you’d lift it to your lips and empty the rest of the contents. That salty tang still hanging on your tongue when you set the glass back down.

On the worst nights, you’d simply rest your head against the countertop. The cool surface refreshing to your warm cheek, as you curled into yourself, and drifted into a restless sleep.

When you’d wake a few hours later, your blood-shot, tired eyes would open to the sight of a glass of ice-cold water and a migraine pill sitting a few feet away from your face.

You never saw who catered to your hungover needs, but you had an inkling of a guess.

Lifting your head, you’d blink away the morning fog before sitting up straight with a groan. Slowly, you’d reach out and grab the small capsule and the water, before swallowing both in one large gulp.

Then, it was back to work as always.

Sometimes, you’d actually that phone on your desk would brnnnggg loudly, and you’d leap out of your chair to have a conversation with a fresh new voice.

“You guys at least provide free Hash, right?” The masculine voice on the other end questioned.

“Sir, this a hotel meant for redemption. Y’know, to Heaven? We don’t have any paraphernalia here.” You grumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration as you listened to the guy.

“Wait.. so you’re saying Heaven doesn’t have joints?”

“I’ve never been up there, obviously. Though I'm sure drugs are a big no-no up there.”

“Then what the fuck is the point of wanting to go up there?! No weed? No sex toys? Fuck Heaven! Fuck you and your stupid little hotel!”

“Choke on dick and die!” You snarled, slamming the phone back into place. You leaned back in the chair, fuming silently. The calls never ended well.

“Good job, you’re really pulling in all those potential residents.” A sarcastic voice piped up near you.

Your head snapped to the bar across the room, your gaze resting on the black and white feline who was busy cleaning glasses on the counter.

Standing from your spot, you stroll over to the bar, before nestling into one of the bar stools. Placing a hand under your chin, you rested your elbow against the shiny countertop.

“Pour an old friend a drink, won’t you Husk?” You asked sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him.

His soul was owned by Alastor too, and even if you didn’t know the guy too well, you felt a kinship with him. You both were hollow beings, now.

“We ain’t friends,” the demon grumbled, “I'm just stuck with you and Niffty until I kick the bucket.”

“Okay, Mr. Grumpy-Pants.” You laughed as he reached for your go-to bottle. Same old, adorably-cross Husker.

He was getting better, though. Happier, even. The night he disappeared to go retrieve Angel Dust, he came back with a bounce in his step. Seemingly more at peace, with whatever happened between the two away from prying eyes.

Once, you swore you heard him humming some old, happy tune while he organized the liquor bottles on the shelf. Husk.. singing? That was something you thought you’d never see.

He had a very good poker face, and half the time you couldn’t tell if the kitty even liked you. He always regarded you like he was behind a closed, see-through door. Getting close to you just enough to see and speak to you, but never enough you could actually reach out and use him for support. Hopefully, he was getting better with that too.

Maybe, with how things were going, he’d let you scratch his chin one day. You always wanted to try it, see if he purred just like they did back on Earth.

“What do you think about the hotel?” You asked him, as he popped the cap off the bottle with his claw, and began pouring a glass in front of your seat.

“It ain’t too bad,” Husk replied truthfully, “But, it could be better.”

“I agree, I was having a pretty good time out on my own before this. Guess we’ll just have to get used to it, I’m not sure how long Alastor plans to keep us here.”

“You don’t know?”

You raised an eyebrow at the feline, as you took a sip of your drink. “No, I don’t. Why would you think I do?”

“Well, I just assumed the two of you would discuss those kind things.”

“You think I talk to Alastor about his deceitful plans with this place?”

“Why wouldn’t you? I mean, you two are practically the same, with your silver-tongue and all.”

You leaned back, a mixture of surprise and disgust on your face at his words. Husk thought you and Alastor were like, what, best buddies? The demon that owned your soul?

“That’s a fucking lie,” You growled, glaring at him, “I’m not like that douchebag at all. Just because I’m good at talking my way out of tough shit, doesn’t mean I use them to manipulate people into making magical deals that fuck up their entire existence.”

Using your feet, you pushed your chair back forcefully. It scraped harshly against the wooden floor, as you stood up from the stool. You didn’t even glance at Husk as you sharply turned away, and stomped across the room.

“Thanks for the drink, Asshole.” You called as you turned the corner into a long hallway, towards your room.

You didn’t speak to Husker for a while after that, or go to the bar. Instead, you worked and kept to yourself in your room. It wasn’t until you walked into the lobby one early morning, did you see the feline.

He was standing with the rest of the crew, concern etched across their faces as they circled around a mumbling, erratic Charlie Morningstar.

“Why isn’t the hotel working?!” You could hear her fume, as she fussed over a large tack board filled with drawings and pictures.

It wasn’t until about a half an hour later, when Charlie had hung up the phone with her father, did you realize the day was going to get much stranger.

“Alright, guys! My dad is going to be here in one hour, so we have to make this place perfect!” She said, a nervous smile on her lips as she addressed the small crowd.

Everyone tensed, their eyes darting to each other at her words.

Charlie’s dad was coming? Lucifer Morningstar? The King of Hell?!

Suddenly, the room bursted into action. Sir. Pentious slithered to the kitchen, claiming he needed to bake sweets for Lucifer’s arrival. Charlie was practically hyperventilating as Vaggie rubbed her shoulder soothingly.

“Aw man, I gotta go put on my new perfume!” Angel Dust yelled from the chaos, as he sped away towards his room. Husk continued wiping down the bar countertop, but a little more feverishly now.

Alastor was the only one seemingly unchanged by the news of the king’s arrival. He only stood there grinning, as the others rushed around him, before beginning to push back his cuticles.

“I’m just going to go… put on some better clothes.” You called, unsure if anyone was even listening as they scrambled about.

You quickly left the lobby, running to your room to clean yourself up and look presentable. Your mind raced as you did so, recalling all the rumors and gossip you’ve heard over the years.

Was he a cruel king? He couldn’t be, not with how Charlie turned out. But, with her reaction to asking for his help… that was strange. She had never spoken of him before, so it didn’t seem like they were that close.

What was he going to think of you? You’ve never stood before such an important figure, other than Charlie, but that was wayyy different than speaking to the most powerful man in the realm.

You’d just have to make him like you, to avoid any trouble. You needed to charm the King of Hell, just like you’ve done successfully with so many others.

You adjusted your appearance in the mirror, before nodding your head in self-approval. You crossed your room, pulling open the door, and making your way down the stairs.

When you returned to the lobby, everyone was making last minute preparations.

Sir. Pentious was busy tidying the cookies on the cooking sheet in front of him. Angel Dust was finishing hanging up the balloons around the room, while Charlie was hyping herself up in the corner.

A large banner with a handwritten message ‘It’s A Boy!’ hung from the ceiling, and you shook your head in embarrassment with a smile.

When you had made it back to the group, there was barely any time to talk before you heard a knock at the front door.

Everyone froze, and Charlie exhaled a large breath of nerves, before crossing the distance towards the door. She pulled it open, and a white hat poked from over her shoulder.

“Charlie!”

You heard him before you saw him, and he sounded like a burst of sunshine as you watched Charlie get pulled into his bear hug.

She sputtered against his tight grip, before he finally released her. You could see the wide brim hat poking out of her figure, see that silly apple that stuck out from the top of his cane, as they talked for a few more moments.

It wasn’t until Charlie turned to face you and the rest of the crew, did you see Lucifer Morningstar’s face. Your breath hitched, eyes widening as you drank in his figure.

Fuck. He was gorgeous.

He definitely presented himself like a king, with how he stood with his back straight and head held high. He rested slightly against his cane, his interest piqued at the new faces.

As his gaze swept across the lobby, it briefly landed on you, and your heart fluttered in your chest. God, his eyes were so pretty. They were a soft, muted yellow, like buttercream.

They held many emotions too, you could see it. There was deep sadness that never left his gaze, as if it followed him like a shadow. It was something you felt followed you too. What was his story?

Your eyes traced the rest of his appearance, landing next on the golden strands nestled under his hat.

That platinum-blonde hair practically glowed underneath the chandelier lighting, as it curled delicately around his face. It looked so smooth and silky, like the guy had a 10-step hair care routine. It probably smelled amazing too.

And, those cute little rosy cheek spots on the sides of his mouth, that stood out from his pale skin. If you tilted your head just right, you’d say he looked just like a cockatiel.

But, it was his smile that enraptured you. Not the fake one, that wide, awkward mess across his lips he did as a way to appeal to Charlie.

No, it was instead that warm, genuine grin that lit up his entire face, crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that made you feel like you were the only person in the room. The smile that only appeared during tender moments, like when his daughter rubbed her cheek against his affectionately.

You hoped he would start to smile like that more often.

Charlie had approached your group, introducing Lucifer slowly through your companions. Your heartbeat quickened as they made their way closer to you.

Taking a deep breath, you clasped your hands together, smiling warmingly at the duo approaching. Charlie stopped, turning to her father as she began to introduce you.

“And thisss is our receptionist! They’re in charge of handling most of our inbound and outbound affairs, and in helping us capture potential residents too!”

“And I'm doing a fantastic job at that, by the way.” You declared to the two, that smile of yours widening as you edged closer to them. You lifted your arm, extending a hand towards the fallen angel.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.”

God, could this dude get any more perfect? The closer he got, the warmer you felt your body temperature become, like he was practically the sun itself.

He regarded it for a moment, before hesitantly taking your grip. His hands were soft, but firm. The gold band on his pinkie grazed across your finger, it was cool to the touch, giving you much needed relief to the growing intensity of the heat of his grasp.

His eyes traveled up yours once more, to your eyes as they flickered between your batting lashes, and to your pretty smile that only grew wider as you leaned forward.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He spoke softly with a grin, as he looked you over. His voice was like silk, and you wanted to wrap it around yourself like a sheet.

A stark difference to Alastor’s, who gave you a headache listening to that static overlay every time the guy opened his mouth.

“This is your first time here, right?”

“Yes, I'm just here to give my daughter the support she needs for her little project.” Lucifer nodded, glancing over to Charlie as he spoke.

“Well, I hope your opinion of the hotel has improved now that you’ve seen it in person.”

“Oh, believe me, it has.” He assured, that nervous grin disappearing from his face, and you could see a playful smirk slowly blooming on his lips.

That was before his eyes landed on the bar at the other end of the room, his hand left yours as he turned to face it. You pulled your arm back, clenching your hand as his warmth faded from your skin.

“What in the unholy Hell is that?”

You stood up straight, as he walked closer to the bar. Only for Alastor to appear right behind him, a deadly grin on his lips as he strutted forward.

“Just some renovations we’ve had done, adds a little bit of color! Don’t you think?”

You sighed, your lips twisting into a slight frown as you watched the tension in the room escalate with every word Lucifer and Alastor exchanged. It wasn't until Charlie sidled up beside her father, that the drama got good.

“I guess that’s why they call it the Has-Been Hotel, eh?” Lucifer grinned, nudging Charlie with his elbow.

You snorted, your hand coming up to cusp your mouth at the sudden outburst. His dad joke was just so hilariously stupid—not to mention, it was pointed at Alastor, which was bonus points—you couldn’t contain the noise you made.

All eyes turned to you, and you felt sweat beading at your forehead from all the sudden attention.

Alastor still had that large toothy grin, but his eyes were squinted in a glare as his head snapped uneasily towards you.

It was Lucifer’s gaze that captured your attention, though. He turned in surprise, as if shocked someone actually laughed at his joke. It wasn’t until he saw that the person that laughed was you, did he seem to slightly puff out his chest, a prideful grin dancing on his lips.

Heat flooded your cheeks as he sent you a mischievous wink, before his attention turned back to Alastor as the demon laughed2.

“Yes, Ha-Ha. It was actually my idea, though.”

“Ha-Ha, well, it’s not very clever!”

“A-Ha! Fuck you.”

You had stood to the side, as the two demons bickered and fought for Charlie’s attention. The insecurities of both became increasingly obvious to you as time went on.

Alastor, with his uneasiness that someone of much higher stature and power could take his role in the hotel. And, Lucifer, who’s relationship with his daughter was sour enough that the idea of someone replacing his role as a father caused him to short circuit.

Then, when a short, rotund woman bursted through the front doors, dressed like a flapper and fawning over Alastor, you realized even more how today was looking to be a really strange day.

Mimzy, an old friend of Alastor’s from when they were both swinging through the 20’s and 30’s back on Earth.

You didn’t know her very well, other than she never stopped talking, and in your opinion, had an ego bigger than Alastor’s. But, you’ve been around long enough to know that whenever she came around, it was only to beg Alastor for help when she fucked up.

Your opinion of her only worsened when the wall a few feet away from you blew open less than ten minutes later.

The chaos that ensued was even worse, as bullets began ripping through the walls of the hotel. Loan Sharks, snarling Mimzy’s name with venom, threw another explosive towards the building.

When Alastor had suddenly arrived, shifting into his demonic form, you breathed a sigh of relief as he began to decimate the little army outside.

One of them was falling right above your head, and you tried to scramble away.

Before it could turn you into a stain on the carpet, it suddenly jerked away, smashing into the closest wall instead. Gold sparks faded from around its wooden frame, and you turned your head to see Lucifer at the other end of the room with Charlie, his eyes trailing your form as you beelined for the opposite wall.

Another explosion rocked the lobby again, and you stumbled on your feet. A table skidded quickly across the floor, heading right for you.

The adrenaline pumping through your veins sent your body into overdrive, and you swiftly lean down, lowering your hands to meet the floor. With a powerful push, you launch yourself into a graceful somersault, your body arching elegantly over the crashing obstacle. Time seems to stretch as you execute the maneuver with precision, feeling the rush of wind against your skin as you spin through the air. Your back barely grazing the table’s surface before you landed into a roll.

You shoot up from the ground, heart racing, a dumbstruck smile blooming across your lips at the realization you were still in one piece.

You were too preoccupied with Sir. Pentious barreling into your side; that you missed the pale face mirroring your expression, as he watched you clear the table.

By the time you untangled yourself from the snake demon, the dust had begun to settle in the room. Alastor had killed—or eaten—most of the Loan Sharks, and was now standing on the front lawn, cleaning bits of meat from underneath his nails.

Husk lifted his head slowly from behind the bar, eyes scanning the perimeter for danger. Mimzy crawled out from under the bar stools, before scurrying outside to speak with Alastor.

“Jesus, is everyone okay?” Angel Dust called, while Charlie was helping dust off stray pieces of rubble from Vaggie’s hair.

“HELPPPP!” Came the loud, mousy squeal from above your head. Eyes lifting to the ceiling, you see Niffty clutching a support beam with her life.

“Niffty? How the fuck did’ya get up there?!” Angel Dust yelled back, arms thrown in the air in exasperation.

It had partially dislodged from the ceiling, hanging loosely by one end. Niffty poked her head out from the side, her large eye darting across the room, as she waited for someone to come to her aid.

Your gaze traveled down from the support beam, your eyes landing on a water pipe, broken and sticking out from a large crack in the wall. It hung just perfectly in between you and Niffty, which would allow you to reach her quickly.

If you could just get a boost… aha! Your gaze lands on the partially torn couch that was scooted a few feet across the room from the explosions. If you leapt off its back, you could swing from the broken water pipe and use it to catapult yourself right next to Niffty.

Lucifer analyzed the ceiling before turning to his daughter, smirking as he slowly lifted his cane.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got thi-“

“Hang on, Niff! I’m coming!” Your voice rang through the room, your footsteps echoing as you ran towards the damaged furniture.

Taking a large leap, your feet hit the backrest of the couch. The muscles in your legs tense as you lower yourself slightly to vault forward and up, your arms shooting above your head as you close in on the pole.

Your fingers wrap around its chilling, metal surface; and with your palms snug against its frame, you swing forward, arching your body so your feet begin to lift above your head.

You release the pole, your legs high in the air as you lift yourself up. You feel the wooden beam graze to the back of your knee pit, and you curl your legs around its base, hanging upside down.

Tensing all the muscles in your abdomen, you use the momentum to swing your legs around the beam and your butt hits the top of its base. You blink, your heart pounding in your chest as you exhale a sigh of relief.

Damn, that felt good. This was so much better than rotting at a desk all day, you really missed your old job.

Niffty shot up next to you, wrapping her little arms around your forearm in glee.

“You came to rescue me, you’re my hero!”

“Yeah, yeah. Just hang on, little lady.”

You pulled her close, before getting to your feet. You lean over the edge, the only thing catching your eyes that you could use was that water pipe.

Okay, you’ve done a bit of parkour before. Piece of cake.

You knelt slightly, before leaping from the beam. You stuck on foot out in front of you, and you felt your sole hit the top of the pipe. It was like taking a large step, as you swung your other leg forward and launched yourself with the other.

Curling your legs, you practically cannonball into the couch. The large, plush cushions swallowed you for a moment, before spitting you back onto your feet in front of it.

“Holy shit, ya didn’t die!” Angel Dust exhaled a sigh of relief, walking up to you. Niffty fussed in your hold, and you gently lowered her to the ground.

Niffty ran to Angel, who kneeled down to fuss over her for any injuries. You turned from the duo, before you caught sight of another figure coming forward.

“You’re an acrobat, aren’t you?” Lucifer said, a hint of astonishment in his tone as he strolled up to you, his eyes gleaming with interest.

“Yes, well, mostly. But I can do a lot of other things too.” You nodded, smiling bashfully at his facial expression.

“Wow! I mean, heh—boy, I haven’t seen anyone do that perfect of a maneuver in a long time. You looked like a ballerina up there with how strict your form was when you were swinging.”

Did Lucifer just.. compliment you? He knew about aerobics enough to make that kind of judgment on you? Man, this guy just kept getting better and better.

It should have been obvious, though. His silly red-and-white attire had struck you as familiar when you first saw him, and now you realized it was similar to the getup of a Ringmaster.

“Thank you, I've been practicing since I was young. I’ve even done a few circus acts before, and it’s always such a thrill. I'd do it over and over again without getting tired.”

“I think that’s called being an adrenaline junkie.” Lucifer teased, a playful smile on his lips. “But, really, that was good. Impressive, even.”

“Not as impressive as saving me from getting crushed by the ceiling.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened just a tad, and he nervously adjusted his long collar, his smile turning bashful now.

“Oh, you.. you saw that?”

You nodded, “Yes, I did. Thank you. Also, your magic is just so pretty, they’re like little golden fireworks!”

Before Lucifer could speak, you leaned in closer to him. Your ear just barely grazing the brim of his hat as you smiled.

“And, I just wanted to let you know, I agree with you about the hotel name,” you inched closer to his face, your voice lowering as you spoke with a honeyed tone, “I have no doubt you would come up with a better name, Your Highness.”

Lucifer tensed, and you thought you could see those red spots on his cheek darkening just a shade.

He lowered his head slightly after that, his face mostly obscured by the brim of his hat. You couldn’t see what he was doing, but, was that an edge of a smile on his lips?

After a second, Lucifer cleared his throat, before lifting his head again.

“I’m glad we share the same appreciation for aesthetics. It’s been a pleasure speaking with you.”

“Hey, Dad? Can I, um, speak to you? About the hotel?” Charlie spoke, approaching. A firm look on her face, as if it was rather important.

“Of course, I’ll be right there,” Lucifer nodded, before turning back to you, “Again, a pleasure to meet you. I hope we get to talk again.”

Then, he did something you never expected, he curtsied. Your eyes widened, the King, showing you such a gesture of respect? All for what, doing a few tricks in the air?

Heat creeped onto your cheeks after that, and you watched him turn away, following after his daughter. Leaving you to stew about your encounter with Lucifer for the rest of the day.

Well, your thoughts on the King of Hell definitely stayed when you awoke the next morning, and the morning after that.

Your thoughts were still there in that lobby as you sat at your desk one afternoon, your hands organizing a large stack of papers. They had a picture of the Hazbin Hotel on them, along with words that basically screamed ‘Come check us out!’

The plan was to distribute the posters around the city. Buildings, poles, doorways, anything that could hold a staple was your target.

You were fiddling around in your drawer, searching for extra staples when you heard it. A gentle rapping against the front doors, which made you lift your head.

There was no one else in the lobby, not even Husk. Slowly, you walked towards the doors, and the silhouette of a hat stuck out from the bottom of the stained glass.

Is that..?

Reaching to the handle, you pull it open, and met the familiar soft, yellow gaze. His lips curved into a smile at your appearance, and he lifted his hand in greeting.

“Oh! Hello, again!”

Fuck, he was still gorgeous. Definitely an Angel, no doubt about that. His pearlescent skin practically glittered in the red hues of the afternoon light behind him, and you averted your gaze for a moment, trying not to be blinded by his ethereal beauty.

“Your highness? I’m—ahem, well, sorry. I’m just surprised to see you back so soon. What are you doing here?”

“I'm here to see Charlie, of course!” He exclaimed, strolling right past you into the lobby. His eyes scanned the room, resting for a moment disapprovingly on the bar, before landing on the large desk.

“Is this where you work?” He motioned towards its wooden frame, you sidled up to him, before nodding.

“Yep. Hardly move from there during the day.”

“You sit there all day? Yeesh, that’s terrible.”

��Mhm. Pretty boring, actually.”

“Well, if you ever want a better career, I’m sure I could find you a job at LuLu World, I’ve got a circus that runs year round there.”

LuLu World? The theme park he owned? You had never been there before, but it always sounded amazing. And, he thought you’d be a great fit there too. He couldn’t have been that impressed by a few of your maneuvers. Maybe, he just needed to go to an actual circus and see the real performers.

“I’d love to, but I'm kind of stuck here.”

“Why?” Lucifer turned to you, an eyebrow raised.

“Well, um—”

‘My soul is owned by the demon you have beef with, and I can’t exactly leave without his permission. I also can’t tell you this because I apparently signed an NDA too.’

“—I just want to help people! So, I made a promise that I wouldn’t leave until I made a difference. Y’know, really make an effort to improve this wonderful community!” You responded with fake cheer, clasping your hands together.

Lucifer regarded you for a moment, his fingers fidgeting against the apple on his cane as he thought.

“Oh.. well, that’s generous of you. But, someone with your skill set doesn’t deserve to rot away in a place like this, I’m sure you’d make a difference somewhere more relevant.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Your Highness?” You teased, your nails grazing against the desk as you walked past him, before pivoting to face him.

“What? No! Of course not, just—forget I said anything.” He chuckled nervously, before fussing with his long collar. He seemed to do that often when

Aw, he got all flustered when he thought you were serious. Who knew the embodiment of Pride had such bad self esteem.

“Charlie went out to run some errands, but she should be on her way back, actually. Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?”

“Chamomile Tea, if you have it?”

You nodded, before walking towards the small counter behind your desk. There was a coffee machine, a toaster, and a large, electric kettle. You placed the kettle underneath the small sink, filling it up, before switching it on and setting it down.

It would take a little time for the water to heat, so you returned to where your visitor awaited.

Lucifer leaned against your desk slightly, his fingers mindlessly tapping at his cane, his eyes staring at the wall. There he goes again, lost in his thoughts. Which he seemed to do quite often.

Would it be rude to wake him from his stupor? You had only just met him, so maybe, don’t push your luck.

You turned your attention back onto the stack of posters, flicking through each one as you counted. You heard Lucifer shuffle beside you, before clearing his throat.

“What are you doing?”

“Posters for the hotel. I’m going to put them up around the city later today.” You held one out to him, and he took it from your grasp. His fingers grazed yours, and you could feel the warmth seeping into your skin from just that small touch.

When he pulled his hand away, that warmth left you, and you felt that never-ending chill seep back into your bones again. It was something that followed you since you made that deal with Alastor. As if your soul was the sun, and you just got shoved down a long, dark well.

You could only claw at the edges for so long, letting the blood from your nails drip into the standing water at your feet, before you gave up trying. You’ve been sitting in that well for a long time, allowing time to pass by.

But, for some reason, since you arrived at the hotel, you’ve begun to start digging at the cracks of that well again. Maybe, if you got your claws in deep enough, you’d find that beam of sunlight.

“Hm, the drawings seems.. a little off. Did you do this?” Lucifer dragged you out of your thoughts, as he looked at you expectantly.

Shaking your head, you chuckled softly. “No, unfortunately, stick figures are my only language in the arts. I think Charlie drew it.”

“Did I say this drawing was off? I lied! Ha-ha, yeah, this is great work.” Lucifer quickly replied, brushing off his earlier comment.

You were going to open your mouth to respond, before you heard the loud whistling of the kettle. You turned, watching the steam pour out of its lid, and quickly ran to fetch it.

You pulled a small tea cup from its stand on the edge of the counter, before filling it full with the water from the kettle.

Reaching towards a small cupboard, your fingers sorted through the different herbal flavors as you looked for one in particular. When your eyes finally caught the light green packaging, you pulled it out.

“Hey, this might seem like an odd question, but do you like caramel?” Lucifer asked from behind you. You turned your head slightly, taking a glance at him. His nails clicked against his cane, fast and nervous as he waited.

“Yes, I do. It’s not my favorite sweet treat, but I've definitely indulged in it a few times.”

Taking a few moments as you spoke, you ripped open the package. Holding the small string in between your thumb and your index finger, you carefully placed the tea bag into the steaming water.

“Great! I was wondering, well, I mean—you see, I made some caramel apples for Charlie. Except, she hasn’t had one of mine since she was a girl, so I just wanted someone to take a test bite before I presented it to heel

Slowly, you could see the color begin to change as the herbal goodness was dispersed in the cup. You turned to him slowly, eyebrows raised as you regarded him.

“You want me to.. try one of your apples?”

“Yes! That would be great, just to know I still got the gourmet chef in me.” He smiled, lifting up a finger right above his lips, and swirling it in the air. As if twirling a long mustache.

“Your tea, Your Majesty.” You chuckled, bending your head slightly, placing it down on the desk in front of him. When you lifted your head, you were greeted with the sight of a large, light-brown coated apple.

“It’s not poisoned I promise.” He teased, a lopsided grin on his face as he held the treat out to you, his fingers clasped around the kabob-like stick poking out of the bottom.

Carefully, you lifted your arm, plucking the caramel apple away from his grip. When you had it between your fingers, Lucifer reached down to take the tea cup from the desk, before swirling the mix around slightly. He blew at its surface, and the liquid rippled as steam still rose from it.

He gingerly lifted it to his lips, his pinky lifting away from the handle as he did so. His eyes softened as the herbal flavoring hit his tongue, and his body seemed to relax as warmth bloomed under his skin and the drink traveled down his throat.

‘He drinks with his pinky out? That’s so cute.’ You gushed silently, never did you think the King of Hell would practice such mannerisms. But, in all honesty, he didn’t seem like he should be in Hell at all. Guess that’s what happens, when the highest powers known to man punish you for being you.

His eyes never left you as he drank, as he waited for you to take a bite. You turned the treat in your grip, inspecting it a final time. Carefully, you lifted it to your face, and took a bite of its side.

Lucifer seemed to grimace as your mouth closed against the large chunk of apple. You chewed for a moment, letting your taste buds do the work. Then, your brain short-circuited at the sensations, and your eyes lit up.

“Woa-hu-ho! This is fantastic!” You beamed, and Lucifer’s eyes widened in a look of surprise.

“Really..?”

“Yes! It’s actually really good! I think Charlie is going to love it!” You nodded briskly, taking another bite of delicacy.

“Ha, well. Guess I still got it in me after all this time.” He boasted, chest puffing just slightly at your compliments.

You obliterated that apple in front of him, taking barely a moment to breathe as you scarfed it down. God, his cooking was actually really good. What else could he make?

Lucifer only watched you, a faint smile on his lips as he watched you devour the treat. As if he was fascinated by your sudden primal hunger.

Your eyes met his and you stopped suddenly, covering your mouth as you continued to chew. Heat flooding your cheeks in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, this is pretty rude of me..”

“No! Not at all, if I had more I'd surely give it to you,” he laughed, setting his almost-empty drink back onto the desk, “and please, call me Lucifer. There’s no need to use such titles in a private setting like this.”

Right as he spoke, the front entrance doors burst open, and Charlie and Vaggie strolled in chattering loudly. They held a few shopping bags in their hands, as they entered the lobby.

Right, so much for privacy. Couldn’t you get five more minutes with the #1 bachelor in the realm?

“Oh, Dad!” Charlie exclaimed, surprise etched on her face at seeing Lucifer standing beside you.

“Charlie!” He beamed, strolling over to her. He encompassed her into another of his signature bear hugs, and she sputtered for breath in his hold.

“Wha—gasp—what are you doing here?”

“I just came by to visit, also to take another peek at some renovations that really need to be done. Among other things.”

“Oh, okay! Let me drop this stuff off by Angel Dust, and we can do that.” Charlie smiled at her father, before turning and crossing the room to another hallway.

Lucifer watched her leave, before turning to you, his eyebrows raised as he spoke, “I assume you’ll still be sitting here the next time I stop by?”

He wanted to see you again? Your brain couldn’t process that thought when the words left his lips.

“As always.” You smiled warmly at him, as you cleaned up the now-empty cup from the desk. You didn’t say ‘Your Majesty’ this time, but you weren’t sure whether calling your king by his real name was appropriate. At least, not yet.

“Good.” He nodded approvingly, before his back faced you and he walked out of the lobby. Your gaze lingered on the corner he had turned out of view from, before you sighed and returned to work.

You didn’t notice those sickly red eyes watching you intensely from the shaded corner of the room, as you took a seat back at your desk.

Days like that continued, where you’d be greeted by the soft knocking against the entrance door. And, when you opened it, you’d meet the handsome, smiling face of Lucifer.

“Good morning, I hope you’re hungry!” He’d state as he strolled past you, always stopping right next to your desk first when he came.

You made sure to save your stomach for the delicacy he always carried with him now. Usually, he’d bring two, one for Charlie, and one for you.

“I need to make sure she’ll like this one too.” He had explained. You were apparently his official taste tester now, but you never complained.

He’d hold the treat out to you, one eyebrow raised playfully, as he presented the caramel apple like a rose.

“Now with sprinkles!” He’d exclaim as you’d gingerly take it from his grip, your fingers brushing against his. The warmth a welcome feeling to your skin.

You’d sit there, feasting on the apple in your seat as he leaned against the desk. He was very chatty, even when he still held reservations around people in general. It never bothered you, of course. It stopped you from getting so bored while you worked.

“Don’t even get me started on Mammon,” Lucifer groaned, as you told him about your most recent circus acts, “the guy will do anything to put more money in his pocket. Y’know, he thinks we’re best buddies or something, thinks that lets him plagiarize my amusement park.”

“Why don’t you tell him to shut it down?”

“Because it brings in more business,” Lucifer had shrugged, “People go there, expecting a good show, and don’t find one. So, they go to my LuLu World, and bam, they never want to leave!”

You chuckled at the name, ‘LuLu’. Yep, you were definitely speaking to the Sin of Pride, alright.

“What’s so funny?” He had asked, curious at your reaction. You straightened yourself, a lop-sided smile on your lips when you realized he caught your laugh.

“Nothing it’s just.. ‘LuLu World’? There had to be something better you could have called it.”

Lucifer gasped, placing a hand on his heart, feigning hurt. “Woah, woah. First, you say I'm good with names, and now you’re laughing at them? Dirty.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry. Please, good sir, don’t smite me!” You mocked a pain expression, clasping your hands together in a gesture of begging.

“I will allow you to live for now. Can’t have the hotel going into shambles because you’re not here to keep it running.” Lucifer’s voice deepened as he fixed his posture into a much more royal stance. As if he was speaking to a lowly squire in court.

‘I barely do anything around here, but thanks for the confidence boost.’ you’d answer silently, as you leaned back in your chair, watching his antics with amusement.

You began to anticipate his arrival with excitement. Even pouring his tea beforehand, so when he walked through those doors, you’d place a steaming cup into his palms. You always enjoyed the way his eyes softened when he took his first sip.

Hell, you enjoyed.. everything about him. His smile, his jokes, the care he had for his daughter, even if he had a hard time showing it. He made you smile, which was something you haven’t done willingly in a long time.

And, his smile? That real, true look of happiness that blossomed on his face? That slowly began to return as well.

For a few months, everything was dandy. Until, one evening, when Alastor summoned you to his room.

He never did that, and that made you nervous.

You stood at the closed door to his room, your heart pounding in your chest. What did he want? Did you do something wrong? Your thoughts just couldn’t still as you fidgeted nervously.

Slowly, you lifted your knuckles to the door. Before you could even graze the wooden surface, the door swung open. It creaked loudly as it did so, and your breath hitched as you began to glimpse inside.

You poked your head in, your eyes scanning across the room. The decorations were so outdated, it almost made you gag. Skeletons of an alligator hung on the wall, its eyes glowing from the string of lights wrapped around its figure.

A large shelf of books, mostly for cooking, stood out against a small wooden table. A small radio sat snug on the desk, playing a gentle jazz tune. On the opposite side of the room, was where that freaky abyss lay. You had never stepped foot there, the part of the room that simply seemed to dissolve into a dark, swampy land.

Then, you heard humming. Staticy, soft humming, coming from the left side of the room.

Alastor stood over a bloody cutting board, a large kitchen knife in his hand. He wore an apron that was spattered with blood, his usual overcoat was gone, replaced by a dark red tuxedo underneath and a—surprisingly—clean white dress shirt.

He hummed along in sync with the music wafting from the speaker, as he continued to slice along the large slab of meat on the counter. You couldn’t dare think what the flesh used to be as you slipped through the crack, shutting the door softly behind you.

It didn’t seem like he knew you were standing there awkwardly by the door, but you knew he did. How long was he going to have you wait?

Clearing your throat, you spoke softly, “you wanted to see me, Alastor?”

“Ah, hello there, my friend!” He pivoted sharply, his tone chipper as he smiled at you. The knife was still in his grip, and he swirled it in the air playfully. “How are you doing on this fine, hellish evening?”

“Fine..”

“Wonderful! I called you here today because there is something I’ve wanted to discuss with you for some time. You see, I've taken notice that you and our ever-so charming King of Hell have been growing closer these past few months.”

This is what he wanted to talk about? You fought to not roll your eyes at that.

“Let me guess, you want me to stop talking to him?”

Alastor giggled at that, a maniacal fit of he-he’s as he forcefully stabbed the knife into the slab of flesh. It stuck out like a grim warning, as he brushed his hands against his apron before removing it entirely.

“On the contrary,” he spoke as he hung the apron against a dining chair, “I want you to get closer to him.”

You blinked, leaning your head back slightly as you processed his words.

“Wait, what?”

Alastor nodded, confirming that you didn’t just hallucinate that. He slowly walked forward, before placing a hand on your shoulder as he moved behind you.

“You see, I believe it’s in both our best interests to forge a deeper connection with our illustrious King. There are certain… opportunities that may arise from such a relationship.”

“Opportunities? What kind of opportunities are we talking about here?”

“Ah, now that would be telling, wouldn’t it? Let’s just say that there are benefits to being in the King’s inner circle. Power, influence, the chance to shape Hell itself… But I’ve said too much already. Just trust me on this one, my dear.”

Trust Alastor? Ha! That was the first joke he’s ever spoken to you that was actually funny.

Your thoughts raced as he appeared on your other side, his claw grazing across the back of your neck as he rested his hand on your shoulder once more.

He wanted you to what, fake your attraction to Lucifer? Wanted you to lie and manipulate him so he’d bend to your will, and carry out Alastor’s evil deeds in the guise of caring for you?

“What makes you think he’d even fall for that? He’s an angel, he’s not stupid.”

Alastor chuckled, patting your shoulder as his grin widened. “Haven’t you noticed the change in his demeanor? The little.. pep in his step? Ever since he met you that first day, he’s only grown more attached to you.”

Was that true? Sure, Lucifer seemed to be getting better, slowly. Seemed to smile more genuine as time went on. But, that couldn’t be because of you! He was reconnecting with his daughter, of course he’d be happier at the hotel.

It didn't matter, in the end. You weren’t going to do that to Lucifer. You weren’t going to ruin the one relationship that was built by trust. The question is, could you resist Alastor?

“What if I don’t want to?” You finally ground out, your firsts clenching at your sides.

Suddenly, you felt a chill around your neck, and you gasped at the sensation. You lifted one hand up, to try and feel whatever was clenching at your throat.

Your fingers wrapped around a green, metal collar that seemed to tighten as the seconds ticked by. Energy sizzled against your fingertips, like static. Eyes widening, you ripped your hand away, your feet moving on instinct to get away from him.

Your back hit the wall roughly, your heart practically beating out of your chest as you watched Alastor slowly stalk towards you. His eyes began to shift, resembling that of radio dials. Those small antlers on his head began to rapidly branch out, growing longer every step he took.

“What if you don’t want to? My, what a foolish question.”

He was just inches from your face, that toothy smile practically ear to ear as he leaned in. Lifting a hand, his claws grazed your collar bone, before traveling up towards the glowing green clasp.

A single claw hooked underneath the metal surface, pushing roughly against your throat as he tugged you harshly forward by it.

His breath hit your face, and you scrunch your nose from the foul odor. He reeked of death.

“It seems you have forgotten who owns your soul, my dear.” He whispered in your ear. You squeezed your eyes shut, your lip quivering as he spoke.

“If you try to resist, try to fight against your chains. I’ll make sure my radio broadcast is filled with nothing but your dying screams.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, the collar only becoming colder as you writhed slightly against his touch.

��I-I’m sorr-“

“You sold your soul to me, don’t forget. If there is anyone to blame for your misfortune, it is you alone.” Alastor hissed, thrusting you even closer to him by your collar. You felt his smile crease brush against your skin, and you shivered.

You were becoming increasingly aware how sickly-yellow his teeth were, compared to Lucifer’s. Disgust began to boil in your belly as you opened your mouth.

“I’ll do it!” You whimpered, your heart pounding, “I’ll do it..”

“Wonderful.” He drawled, before leaning away from you. His claw released your collar, and it dissolved in green fog. You coughed, rubbing your neck, as Alastor took your shoulder and roughly nudged you to the door.

It opened on its own, and you were pushed through the threshold.

“I’m glad we could have this little chat,” Alastor’s chipper tone returned, as you stared at him with disgust, “Have a hellish rest of your day, my friend!”

The door slammed shut as he disappeared back into his room. Leaving a rush of angry tears to pool at your feet alone.

Two weeks had passed, since Alastor told you to tug the heartstrings of the King of Hell, to play him right into your fraud-loving palms. Oh, the universe must surely hate you.

You had begun to avoid Lucifer, though. Whenever he was around, catching you at work, you’d continue your silly little chats. You began to memorize the timeframe he’d show up to the hotel, and make some kind of excuse to not be there when he knocked. Either you were out shopping for supplies, or seeing the latest movie. Anything you could think of, you’d leave and force Husker to greet Lucifer.

The guilt of knowing what would happen if Lucifer fell in love with you? It ate you up inside. You hardly slept lately, tossing and turning with terrible nightmares of drowning in that cold, dark, bottomless well. The chains tied to your feet, preventing your escape to the surface.

Would anyone care if you just let yourself sink to the bottom?

Those thoughts were still on your mind as you did your morning jumping jacks.

You had asked Charlie to use one of her empty storage rooms as a place to practice your acrobatics, which you had started doing every night now. It was any easy escape from your troubles, on the farthest side of the hotel from the lobby, where no one could bother you.

It was a large room, with ceiling-high windows that lit the room with a light red hue. You had convinced Alastor to give you a makeshift gym as a part of your “deal”. If you were going to be forced to be the bad guy, he could at least give you a place to kick ass.

There were multiple gymnastic bars set up at different heights, two balance beams, and a small-scale tightrope. The tightrope was a thick wire connected between two poles across one side of the room, roughly the size of your torso. There was a platform attached to each pole, allowing good foot room on each side of the wire.

Tonight, you were practicing walking on your hands across the balance beam. Sweat dripped from your forehead, and you watched it land onto the leathery cover of the beam beneath you.

You had made it halfway across, when you heard the door to the room open softly.

“I didn’t even know there were rooms back here!” An astonished, familiar voice came from the doorway.

What was Lucifer doing here?!

Your brain short-circuited, and your arms began to wobble beneath you. You lost your balance, and immediately tumbled off the balance beam with a breathless “Fuck!”

Your side hit the mats below, pain bloomed from your shoulder as you lay there in defeat. You heard a high pitched yelp from behind you, and the sounds of feet pattering against the floor neared.

“You’re not dead, are you?” Lucifer laughed nervously as he kneeled beside you. He reached a hand down to your face, before he hesitated, and instead lifted his cane.

You felt soft poking against your cheek, as he prodded you with the black stick.

“Stop that.” You grumbled into the mat, stirring slightly from the floor.

“Oh, you’re not dead! What a relief.” He said, exhaling a breath he had been holding. “I’m terribly sorry about that! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You groaned, before lifting yourself up from the mat. You got to your feet, rubbing your shoulder tenderly.

“It’s fine, I’m fine. What are you doing here, though?”

Lucifer processed your question for a moment, before he suddenly straightened himself up. Head held high, he strutted over to you, before halting. He glanced at you, before he began fussing with his bow-tie nonchalantly.

“Well, I came to find you.”

“Why?”

“Because, I wanted to speak with you. And, you’re conveniently always out of the room when I want to do that.”

Shit. Did he notice you were avoiding him? You didn’t think it was that obvious.

Lucifer watched you intensely, analyzing your reaction to his accusatory statement. He had a firm line on his lips, as if your actions didn’t bother him.

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“Oh, really?”

“I came here to improve my aerobatics, before you rudely interrupted me.”

“Right, like you need to improve.”

You turned to him, an eyebrow raised. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re already good at it, there’s no reason for you to come here every day.”

He turned his head to face you as he spoke, and your eyes caught sight of something wiggling slightly on the top of his head. Is that apple decoration not fully attached to his hat?

Suddenly, you had an idea. A playful smile began to bloom on your lips, as you slowly made your way towards him.

“Actually, that’s not true. I’m not that good at tightrope walking, I’ve told you that before.”

Right before he turned his head so he could trace your movements, you shot your arm above his hat, your fingers pinching around the small apple stem.

You sharply pivoted, facing him now as you walked backwards towards the tightrope platform. The apple hung behind your back, as you kept his gaze.

“Buuut, I think I’m much better at it than you.”

“Excuse me?”

You turned to face the platform, moving your arm fluidly and taking the stem between your teeth, before lifting yourself on the white surface.

Gripping the apple once more, you turn to him slowly, watching his eyes widen as you swing the apple between your fingers for his viewing pleasure.

“Actually, I think I'm better at this whole circus bizz than you. Look! I’m a magician even, would you like to see another trick, Your Majesty?”

Lucifer stood there in shock, for a few moments. His red pupils darted from the swiped apple to you, before they dilated slightly. Then, he laughed, an audible ‘Ha ha!’ at your words.

“You think you’re better at the circus than me?” Lucifer asked slowly, a mixture of disbelief and teasing in his tone.

“Without a doubt!” You called, turning to face the wire. Not giving him a second glance, a smug smile formed on your lips.

Lucifer regarded you a moment, before a mischievous grin played on his face. “Well, let’s prove it then.”

He lifted his cane, before tapping it against the ground twice. Suddenly, you found the platform vibrating underneath your feet. Then, it began to move. You stumbled, and then fell to your knees, gripping the edges as you squeezed your eyes shut.

What the hell was happening?!

The support pole began to rise up, and up, and up, until it barely grazed against the ceiling. Slowly, you opened one eyelid, and then the other. You were still safe, clutching to the platform. The tightrope was still holding, connected to the pole across the room.

You exhaled a side of relief, before crawling over to the edge. Your eyebrows flew up in surprise as you judged the distance to the ground, you were roughly three stories in the air!

Did.. Lucifer do that? He took “prove it” to a whole new level with this one.

You got back onto your feet, the apple still in your palm as you placed your other hand against the support beam. Now, where was Lucifer? Did he stick you up here to starve to death?

“Hey.”

You jumped, reeling back from the voice, right towards the edge of the platform.

“Woah—hang on there now!” Lucifer quickly reached out and wrapped his fingers around your wrists, tugging you back to the center of the stand. You blinked, slowing your heart beat, as you stared in surprise.

“Lucifer? How did you get up here?”

“I can fly, remember?”

That’s right, he did have wings. You just didn’t think he was that fast with them. Lucifer had also completely ditched his hat and overcoat, instead he was in his red and white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to partially expose his forearms.

His hair was slightly disheveled, no doubt from the flight up here. It wasn’t as slicked back as before, small strands of hair sticking out messily. You thought that was adorable.

Lucifer looked down, before smiling sheepishly and withdrawing his hand from your wrist. He brushed his fingers down your hand, his nails gently grazing against your palms.

This time, you didn’t feel the cool sensation from his gold ring against your skin, as his pinky lifted from your hand.

“Now, are you going to walk across that wire, or are you going to just give me back my apple?”

You met his eyes, his gaze playful as he smirked at you. He took a step closer, and you took a step back. Slowly, your heel hit the wire, and you halted.

Lucifer watched you expectantly, waiting for you to make a move. He probably assumed you’d turn around to cross the wire, and he’d nab the apple from behind your back.

Too bad for the King of Hell, you could walk on a tightrope backwards. You winked at him, as your feet moved fully onto the wire. You pivoted slightly every so often, your body fluidly leaning back and forth as you adjusted for balance.

Lucifer watched you, admiration in his eyes as you maneuvered your way down the tightrope. You pulled the apple from behind you, teasing it in front of his view.

“The big question is, how do you think you’re going to best me in those heels, Your Majesty?”

Lucifer glanced down at his knee-high boots, before slowly peeling them off his feet. He placed them neatly to the side, before moving a foot to the wire.

He began to put his weight onto the tightrope, wobbling a little as he adjusted for balance. He definitely did not do this often, and you laughed softly at his failing posture.

Lucifer huffed, glancing at you, who was still moving a reasonable distance away from him. Then, a smirk played on his lips, and you saw forms begin to appear against his back.

The red feathers of his wing’s underbelly began to glimmer in the light from the large windows behind you, as he slowly opened them to full length.

Six ethereal, majestic wings flapped gracefully behind him. They began to pivot slightly, adjusting for Lucifer’s balance much quicker and with ease.

“That is so dirty!” You laughed at him, shaking your head disapprovingly.

“Looks like I'm going to getcha!” He teased, as he began to take much more confident steps across the wire; his wings flapping softly, boosting his speed.

You took bigger, riskier steps as you closed in on the other platform. Your heartbeat racing from the challenge, adrenaline beginning to pump in your veins.

“What happens if I eat this apple?” You asked, holding up the apple to your nose, before taking a deep sniff. Licking your lips playfully, you glanced back up to Lucifer.

“A tummy ache, I'm afraid. But, hey, I'll trade you a caramel apple for that one.”

Your stomach grumbled at that, and you genuinely licked your lips at his words.

“I might consider that proposition, if you can catch up to me that is.”

You spun on your heel, facing the base of the pole, as you began to increase your pace.

It wasn’t until you felt the wire jerk under your feet, did you begin to wobble. With a hitched breath, you try to regain your balance, but to no avail.

Your foot slips, and you feel your body beginning to lean off too far to the side. Gasping in surprise, you flail your arms hoping to catch anything in your grip to stop your fall.

Right as you begin to free fall, you feel strong arms snake around yours and grip you firmly.

“Hang on, I got you!” Lucifer practically spoke in your ear as he pulled you forward, back up onto the wire. You breathe heavily, clutching his forearms tightly as you lean in closer, catching your breath.

Large wings flapping stronger now, Lucifer held you close as you both balanced along the same small portion of the tightrope. You felt his hot breath on your face, and realized how close the two of you actually were.

Your chest was practically against his cute little bow-tie, your legs brushing against each other as you balanced on the tiny surface. The steady wing beats of the fallen angel sent wind softly grazing past your ears, cooling the heat that was beginning to creep onto your cheeks.

He was so close, and so fucking gorgeous. Forget what Alastor wanted to do, what you wanted to do was kiss this man silly. For months, you both danced at the edge of each other's hearts. Gifts of affection, words of compassion, the whole shebang.

Yet, you’ve never looked the King in the eye and told him ‘I want you.’

Was it because you were stubbornly fighting against Alastor’s demands, that you even ignored your own true feelings? Just to spite the powerful cannibal?

Couldn’t you just look at a sexy man in peace, without anyone else watching your every move?

“Are you alright?” Lucifer asked after a moment, pulling you from your ogling.

“You saved me..” You finally breathed, eyes wide and you met his soft gaze.

“Of course I did, why wouldn’t I—”

Lucifer’s words caught in his mouth as you pressed your lips to his. He froze at the touch initially, but it only took a moment for his entire body to soften against yours.

His hands found his way to your waist, and he pulled you flush against his body. Your fingers reached up, and you began to caress the sides of his face, twirling a few pieces of hair between your pinkies as you deepened the kiss.

The warmth that bloomed from his touch was intoxicating, your entire being craving for more as you leaned even farther into his embrace.

His hands moved from your waist, until they brushed underneath your shirt. His palms coming up to cup the small of your back as he pressed you closer to him, as if worried you might dissipate into the air and leave him forever.

It was a good thing he had six wings to keep the two of you afloat, or else you would have been a splatter on the mats by now.

You felt Lucifer's teeth graze against your lip, and you had to fight to not bite his lip back. After a few more moments, you pulled away from his face, your breath coming out ragged as you gave him some distance.

Lucifer blinked a few times, his eyebrows beginning to raise slowly as a dopey smile danced onto his lips.

“I really enjoyed that, but we should probably get on solid ground, don't you think?” He laughed breathlessly, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked at you adoringly.

You reached up, brushing the few loose strands out of his eyes, before nodding. “That is a good idea.”

“Well, just hang on.” Lucifer replied with a mischievous grin, and you opened your mouth to question him. Before you could get a word out, you felt him begin to lean backwards, pulling you along with him.

You yelped and squeezed your eyes shut, as you began to free fall on top of him. Lucifer only hugged you closer, before his wings shot open, slowing your descent.

Carefully, you peeled your eyelids open to the two of you gliding softly down, as Lucifer circled the pole lazily. Your feet swung in the air, and the wind rushed past your ears. The adrenaline rush causing you to laugh in glee as you felt your feet hit a hard surface.

You both stood there in silence for a few moments, the weight of what just transpired finally settling on top of you.

Holy shit, you just kissed the King of Hell! From trying to stay as far away from him, to getting as close as physically possible. What a twist.

“Well, now that we’re down here,” Lucifer began slowly, his gaze meeting yours with a playful roll of his eyebrows, “we could continue our previous.. discussion.”

You almost obliged, until you heard the familiar call of Charlie, as she searched for her father. You tensed in his grip, before pulling away from his hold. A pout formed on Lucifer’s lips at the absence of your touch, before he straightened himself.

Snapping his fingers, that familiar white overcoat magically materialized onto his figure, along with his wide brim hat. Your eyes landed onto that spot where the missing apple usually was, and then you noticed how empty both your hands were.

“Your apple! I think I dropped it when I almost fell.” You explain apologetically.

“Oh, you mean this apple?”

Lucifer pulled the red, gleaming trophy from beneath his overcoat. He threw it in the air a few times, catching it gracefully. A silent boast as he grinned at you. Your mouth only hung agape, as you scanned the apple for any imperfections.

“There is no way you took that from me! How do I know you didn’t just make that?”

“Woah! Sounds like someone is a sore loser.” Lucifer laughed, before turning towards the door, he kept his gaze on yours as he did so, walking backwards as he talked.

Slowly, you kept pace with him, shaking your head in disbelief at his words. He was just as preoccupied as you, sucking on your face, you couldn’t believe he actually took it from you in the chaos.

“At least we settled the little debate, hm? Seems like i’m better at these kinds of things than you. Just like I said.”

“We’ll definitely come back and test that theory with your wings bound this time.”

“Oh, will we? Is that a challenge?”

Lucifer halted at the doorway, and you stopped a few footsteps away. You batted your eyelashes at him, grinning playfully, “it’s a promise, actually.”

He grinned at that, before he leaned in closer, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

“So, you haven’t been avoiding me, then?”

‘Not this again.’ You groaned internally.

“No, I haven’t. I’m sorry, I’ve just got a lot on my mind lately.” You quickly spoke, an apologetic look on your face. Would he buy your lie?

“And you’ll tell me when something is wrong, right?”

You cracked him an assuring smile, “of course!” You lied through pearly-white teeth.

Lucifer nodded approvingly at that, before he glanced out of the room. You both could hear Charlie a hallway or two away, and she seemed frantic to find her father. Lucifer only sighed, before turning to you.

“Looks like I’ll be seeing you real soon, Darling.” He promised, bowing his head slightly to you. You wanted to scold him for that, about lowering his head to someone of lower class, if he did that in public no doubt the citizens of Hell would mock him for it.

But, you weren’t in public. You were alone, with someone you cherished, able to whisper all your secrets, hopes, and dreams to someone you trusted most. If only you could tell him the truth, and not be stuck here drowning in your own lies.

Lucifer gave you one final glance, before he turned away, strolling through the hall away from your room. A happy whistle came from his lips, and you could hear it slowly fading as he moved away.

Backing up, you plopped down on a bench on the side of the room. The recent events hit you like a freight train, and you realized how terribly stupid you were.

How were you supposed to protect Lucifer from whatever plan Alastor had in store for him, if you were going to keep disregarding your brain for your weak little heart?

Yes, Lucifer was the most powerful being in Hell, far more powerful than that red demon. But, he was also a sad, lonely angel. Who craved affection and attention, which he seemed to want solely from you and Charlie.

If your life were in danger, would he be stupid and risk his own for you? He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. Your filthy, sinning soulless self wasn’t worth the trouble.

You just wish Lucifer would see that.

For an hour, you paced the perimeter of the room. Your thoughts clear as you evaluated all the metaphorical cards in your hand. If Husk taught you anything about gambling, it was always to call your opponents bluff before he had a chance to do it to you.

Your feet halted suddenly, your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you stared through the large windows. Your thoughts settling as you watched the waning light.

You weren’t some pushover, some scared little child in need of protection. You weren’t going to let some murderous psychopath take any more control of your life. You were going to call the shots this time, even if that meant being dragged by the throat into that well.

As long as everyone you cared about, even Husker, made it out.

There was only one plan of action you saw ahead. And, it was not going to be the easy route.

“I’m done.”

Alastor halted, the wall sconces in the hallway illuminating his sharp grin as he heard the words leave your lips. It had been four days since you decided you were going to stand against him.

“Pardon?” The words left his lips slowly, his head cracking in-humanely to one side, his ears twisting to face you.

“I said I’m done deceiving for you. I’m not going to lie to Lucifer, or anyone else, for any longer.”

Alastor didn’t say anything, his back still turned to you. His claws tapped against his microphone, rhythmic and loud as he processed your words.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, and I don’t care what you have to say about it. There’s more to the world than power, Alastor.”

You felt something cold tugging against your neck, that familiar, sickening sensation returning to your body. You sucked in a large breath, calming your rapid heartbeat.

Green illuminated your face as you felt something heavy begin to weigh on your body. Alastor held one of his hands out, before flicking his wrist with a painful pop sound.

The chain snapped forward from the collar around your throat, snaking around your figure as it wove to Alastor’s palm, its green glow casting eerie shadows against the walls. You struggled against its hold, feeling the cold, metallic links digging into your skin. Alastor's laughter echoed through the hallway, a chilling sound that sent shivers down your spine.

"You dare defy me?" Alastor's voice was low, dangerous. "You forget your place, little puppet."

Panic surged through you as you fought against the chain, but it only tightened its hold, squeezing the air from your lungs. You gasped for breath, your vision blurring as darkness threatened to consume you.

"Perhaps a reminder is in order," Alastor said, his tone dripping with malice. "A lesson in obedience."

“Don’t you have any more tricks in the book than this fucking chain?” You growled between gasps, the back of your head sliding against the floor as you twisted against its metal grasp. “C’mon Al, this is just embarrassing.”

Immediately, his face contorted into a look into a large, crooked smile. His eyes shifted to resemble radio dials, as he harshly yanked you towards him. Your cheek slid across the carpet, and you felt the sting of rug burn bloom across your face.

‘Don’t let him see you scared, don’t let him win.’ You begged yourself internally, as you held your tears back.

Alastor’s face began to change, his features sharpening drastically, that crooked smile growing all the more larger. His antlers branched farther from his head, gnarling together in twisting designs above his ears.

Even his hair began to stand on end, as he stalked closer to you. Shadows enveloped the hall, like a fog rolling in. Obscuring the sight of your eventual corpse, as Alastor wrapped the chain around his arm, keeping it taut as he closed in.

“The only embarrassment,” He started, his voice flickering into pure static at his rage, “will be how fast it takes for your s̴͔̓̌̍ç̵̯̮͍͆̿r̷̼̥̿̒̊̐e̸͙̣̯͛̽̒a̷͈̼͗ͅm̵̮͑͛͆s̴̻͊̽̑ to die on your t̸̝͓̆͌͝ö̷̻͚̩̎͊n̸̨̘̭͍̕g̵̱̝͍̈́͛̍ͅû̶̞̼̲͜é̴̺, when I rip your h̷̟̣͚̅̏̔̚͜ë̵̺͙́́a̶͉͙̤͆͋r̶̼̈́͝t̴͙̯̕ out of your throat.”

Archaic symbols danced your vision as Alastor’s entire body seemed to contort into jagged edges, his arms and legs doubling in length, as his hunched back hit the ceiling of the hallway. His crooked neck lowered, his head itching closer. One claw coming out to hook underneath you collar, pulling you up by the neck.

“What will our dear King do then, when he finds your mangled body on his front door?”

You snarled, trying to tear away from his grip. How dare he still try and bring Lucifer into this, even when the fallen angel could pulverize him in an instant. Couldn’t he face you one to one?

The Radio Demon’s eyes flickered a darker red, and you feel the collar begin to tighten around your throat, squeezing the breath from your airways. You gasped, tears pricking at your eyes as you clawed at your neck in a poor attempt to stop the sensation.

“Alastor? Is everything alright over there?”

Suddenly, the squeezing at your throat dispersed like fog, as the collar and chain vanished into thin air. You were left on the floor, sputtering for breath, as Alastor quickly pivoted towards the voice. His body instantly shifted back to normal, with quiet pops and clicks as his joints squeezed back into place.

It was Vaggie, coming down the hall, her eye staring suspiciously at his shaded form.

Clutching your bruising throat, you stumble onto your feet. Your back hits the wall, and you use it for support to catch your breath.

Alastor straightened his suit, his expression morphing into its usual grin as if nothing had happened. “Oh, everything’s just dandy, Vaggie. Just having a delightful little chat with our friend here.” He gestured casually toward you, his tone dripping with false cheerfulness. “Isn’t that right?” He raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with an unknown expression.

“Yeah—cough—sorry, just choked on the water I was drinking.”

“Right. Listen, Alastor, I wanted to talk to you in private. If that’s okay with you.” Vaggie said, gesturing down the hall.

“Of course, it’s always a pleasure speaking with you, my dear!” You didn’t miss the way Alastor’s eye twitched, as if he was not thrilled about having to leave. But, he was deceiving everyone else, too. Which meant he had to play his little part to a T.

“I’m just.. going to go. I’m not feeling so well.” You muttered to the pair, before darting around the corner, out of sight.

You ran to your room, slamming your door behind you. Your back hit its frame, before slowly sliding down until your bottom hit the carpet. Tears of anger flowed down your cheeks, as you continued to rub your neck.

Fuck. Why were you so powerless?! If only you had even a sliver of magic in you, you could have defied him better. Now, what was Alastor going to do?

‘What did you expect?’ A part of your mind hissed scoldingly, ‘You just tried to fight the demon that owns your soul, and got your ass handed to you.’

You growled, rising to your feet. Frustration, sadness, pain, everything seeped out of you, and you felt like killing someone in that moment.

“It’s better—”

You picked up a spare shoe from the ground, your nails digging into it as you bared your teeth. Swinging it behind you, you vaulted it towards the opposite wall.

“—than doing nothing at all!”

You heard glass shattering, and watched shards spill from the mirror above your dresser. You could see your face, partially obscured in its remaining reflection. You could see the slight purple marks around your neck, see the tears spilling from your cheeks.. see that dark look on your features, like you actually would kill somebody.

Reeling back, you placed your knuckles to your lips. Maybe, to stop that lip from quivering so violently. That face in the mirror reminded you of everything you hated about this wretched place.

And, now, you were becoming just like him. You stepped backwards, trying to distance yourself from the reflection, before the back of your legs hit the side of your bed, and you sank into the mattress. You wrapped your arms around your knees, curling into a ball as you sobbed the frustration out of you.

You could still feel the dark magic sizzling against your neck, as if it refused to release you of its hold just yet.

It wasn’t until you heard soft rapping of knuckles against glass did you lift your head. Turning towards the balcony doors, your eyes widen at the sight of the familiar figure standing outside. His silhouette illuminated by the dark red hues of the evening light, as he waved through the frosted glass.

“I see you over there! Can you let me in for a moment?”

What was Lucifer doing here?! This was terrible timing for him to make an appearance! But, he knows you're there, can see your silhouette through the glass as you sit there on the bed. You sighed, quickly cleaning your face of tears, and taking a few deep breaths.

“Come in.” You called hoarsely, cracking the best smile you could muster.

The glass doors slowly pushed out of them, and Lucifer quietly shimmied through the cracks. He pivoted to face you, a large smile on his lips as he squinted at you through the darkness of your room.

“I’m so glad you’re here, I was just about to leave and then I remembered I never gave you your caramel apple!”

Lucifer began to stroll forward, your face becoming less obscured in the shadows as he closed in. You tried to shrink away slightly, turning your knees away from him so he couldn’t see them quivering slightly.

“I put a layer of chocolate on it too, and so—wait, why are you crying?” His gaze intensified, as your face finally illuminated in the light.

“I-it’s nothing! I just had something in my eye!” You lied, cracking a wider smile.

“What are those marks on your neck?” Lucifer ignored your excuse, as he stalked closer to you. His eyes constantly scanning your figure looking for any more oddities.

“Please, Lucifer.. I’m just tired and-”

“What is this?”

Lucifer had asked, his pupils dilated, trained on something against your throat. Something more than the small purple marks.

You began to rub your thumbs together in a soothing motion as you watched him move closer to you. Gulping, you parted your lips to speak.

You didn’t get a chance to say anything, before his hand gingerly lifted towards you. His nail grazed against your collarbone, and heat blossomed underneath your skin from his touch.

‘Please, just stop here,’ you silently begged, eyes squeezing shut as his finger rested against your figure, ‘don’t ruin this moment by digging any farther.’

Your reaction only spurred him, however. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, his pupils thin slits now as he watched you.

Slowly, his finger trailed upward, skin brushing softly against yours as he traced the invisible force only a powerful demon could see. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, every movement of his only quickening its pace.

Until his hand stopped, right in the middle of your neck, and you felt a sizzling against your skin. The heat was becoming too much, and you wanted to pull away from his touch. You didn’t, instead, you tensed, deathly still before him.

A soft golden light illuminated from Lucifer’s palm, as his fingers wrapped around an invisible object. A shadow formed in his grip, and he tugged at it, that glow in his palm growing stronger.

Backing away, he yanked a long, thin chain from your figure, as if trying to free you of a parasite that found a home deep in your bones. As he stepped backwards, it only dragged across the floor, still connected to your neck as it lengthened.

A thick, metal collar snuggly encompassed your throat. The chain locked tightly against it, a vivid reminder of your poor decisions.

Lucifer’s palm slid across the cold, metal links. Eldritch magic seeped from its form in the shroud of thick fog. Archaic symbols danced at the edge of your vision as its glow illuminated Lucifer’s unreadable expression.

The chain was a sickly green, its harsh glow an annoyance to his eyes. It was embedded with a dark, chilling magic. Whispers of untold horrors and ancient curses coiling around you, promises of a fate worse than death.

Lucifer could practically smell it, that red demon's aura as it encircled around your frame. A twisted signature, practically scrawled across your forehead like a stamp of ownership.

Oh, the audacity of a person to take such a kind soul and rip it away from its owner.

You weren’t some dog to be beckoned at the flick of a wrist. You were so much more than that, you deserved so much more than that.

Yet here you were, the clasp around your neck like a shadowed hand, softly squeezing the life out of your eyes. He could see it, clear as day.

Small, white horns protruded from his head as he clenched the chain tighter. He tugged it once, twice, as if testing its durability. You leaned back slightly, the chain becoming taught between the two of you.

That collar around your throat kept you locked in place, as you watched him turn the chain in his hands. For a moment, Lucifer’s figure melded into the horrid shadow of your owner, and your eyes widened in fear at your delusion.

You could see it, feel it. Your stomach brushing the stained carpet beneath you with that haunting figure bent in a sickly, twisted angle in front you. That chain wrapped around the radio demon’s hand as he threatened you with terrible acts if you failed to stay in line.

Seeing your face contort into pained anguish only caused him to bare his teeth slightly, the sharp edges glinting in the light.

Seeing it so deeply entwined with your very being only further spurred the king’s anger. It seeped quietly from him, his grip tight against the chains as if trying to snap them with his bare hands.

“Who did this?” He hissed, his gaze boring into yours. He wanted to hear you say that demon’s name, wanted to hear you confirm the truth that was so obvious in front of him.

You knew he wasn’t angry at you, but still you bowed your head slightly. Averting your gaze from his pleading eyes, shame slowly clawing at your stomach. For a moment, you felt like throwing up. Wanting to rid yourself of the terrible feeling that was seeping into your skin.

You felt like crying, or throwing yourself into his arms. Wanting to melt into his hold, and be told again and again that everything would be alright. That the most powerful man in hell would come to your rescue.

But, deals that bartered in souls are a much more difficult magic to conquer.

Fighting the urge to collapse into his embrace, you steeled yourself. Hands planted against your knees, back straight in a pathetic attempt to have some kind of power in this moment.

Your eyes sullenly traced across the harsh links of the chain, its form all too familiar by now. Yet, it still caused such grief in your bones no matter how many times you looked upon it over the years.

Slowly, your eyes shifted to meet his gaze. Your lips curved into a frown at his expression, and your predicament.

How were you supposed to tell the love of your life your soul didn’t belong to you? That you were trapped in a deal of your own making?

Curse that little fine line in your deal that kept your mouth sealed shut, that prevented you from uttering his name.

“I-I..” You desperately tried to speak, to tell him the truth, but that invisible hand that pulled at your tongue forced your silence. Tears pricked at your eyes, the desperation in them evident as your attempts to explain only died behind those pretty lips of yours.

As your mouth shut in frustration, Lucifer’s anger only heightened. His eyes flared into a blood-red glow, a harsh change from that soft yellow radiance you often found yourself lost in.

He pivoted harshly away, his voice contorting into a snarl as he stalked out of the room. His overcoat appeared atop his shoulders, and it swished behind him as he moved.

Lucifer’s thoughts were too tangled with the images of his claws wrapping around the deal-makers throat to sit there and console you.

The tears that had threatened to spill finally rolled down your cheeks, your lip quivering as your eyes lingered on the doorway he had just exited. His thoughts too mangled with the image of his claws wrapping around the deal-makers throat to sit there and console you.

Placing your face into your hands, you sobbed quietly.

Oh, how that regret had begun to consume you as you continued to wallow in your self-pity.

Regret, for thinking that giving away your soul was a simple feat. That somehow, you’d still be happy after the fact.

Regret, for falling in love when you knew the deal that kept you to that deer demon’s side would never allow you to enjoy such a fleeting emotion. No matter how hard you clawed to Lucifer’s soft embrace, that chain would always be there to drag you back.

Those soft whispers of affections, of promises you couldn’t keep. Knowing, one day, that constant-smiling demon could play his little games and tear you away from your lover’s hold forever.

Oh, what a lovestruck idiot you are.

Lucifer’s feet carried him back to the lobby, his eyes glowing as he noticed the cat-demon, Husk, cleaning glasses behind the bar. He sharply turned in his direction, surely, this other being

“You, bartender.” Lucifer hissed, as he lifted himself up onto the barstool, crossing one leg over the other. Acting as if only wanting to have a friendly chat with the demon. His claws extended slightly, as they tapped impatiently against the countertop.

Husker looked up from the glass in his hands, his eyes bored and his mouth a thin line as he worked. It wasn’t until he saw Lucifer’s deadly expression did he drop the glass immediately, ears slightly pinned to his head, before straightening his back to address the king.

“I-uh, how can I help you, Your Majesty?”

Lucifer’s lips upturned into a lopsided grin, those sharp teeth on full display. That’s right, some people have to remember exactly who they are dealing with.

“Where is your master?”

Husk paused, regarding Lucifer for a moment with an eyebrow raised. He was very aware of the tension between the two powerful demons, but he didn’t expect the King of Hell would go looking for Alastor.

“I’m not sure, sir. You could bring it up with Charlie when she gets back, I’m sure she knows more than little ol’ me.”

Lucifer grimaced slightly at that. Of all the people in the hotel, his daughter was the last one he’d want to bring into this whole debacle.

“There’s got to be something you must know, bartender. He owns your soul too, does he not?”

“What, you think I keep track of the guy or something?”

“No, but you should,” Lucifer snarled, leaning over the counter, causing Husk to reel back slightly, “it’s clear no one here keeps eyes on that filth, enough to stop him from hurting people in this very hotel.”

Husk seemed to deflate at that. Those long, feathery eyebrows of his lowering slightly as an unreadable expression crossed his face. He set the glass down, before sharply turning away from Lucifer.

“He’s usually in his room, by now,” Husk spoke quietly after a moment, “down the left hall, last door on the right. Ya can’t miss it.”

Lucifer didn’t give thanks, instead he tapped his cane at his side, and golden waves circled around him. In an instant, the King was gone, a few pieces of gold dust landing softly against the barstool.

“Asshole.” Husk muttered, before popping open a bottle of liquor and lifting it to his lips.

Lucifer opened his eyes to see a large door in front of his face, green symbols glittered against its frame, etched into the wood with practiced precision.

Only Lucifer could see them, though. Only powerful wielders of such a force could see these runes. Magical spells, cast upon the room. Protection, defense, muffling, everything an evil guy could dream of.

Although, the demon’s magic was strange. Unfamiler, even. Seems like he’s been dabbling in a new form of sorcery.

Lucifer stood there, for a few moments. He didn’t knock at the door, or jiggle the handle. The Radio Demon was not the one in control here, so he simply waited impatiently for an answer.

“I know you’re in there, you rat.” Lucifer hissed, the horns poking from his head continuing to rise. “I know you can hear me. Why don’t you do us both a favor and show yourself, or are you too much of a coward now?”

Slowly, the door to Alastor’s room creaked open. The interior obscured by thick shadows, with soft lights flickering from the edges of the room as Lucifer continued to stand there.

“Your Majesty!” A cheerful voice called from the shadows of the room, and Lucifer bared his teeth at the tone. “What an honor to have someone like you gracing my presence. Please, come in!”

Lifting his head high again, Lucifer took a confident step into the room. He had every right to be, even in the demon’s own abode, the King’s powers were unmatched.

Lucifer’s lips curled into a sneer at the saccharine greeting. “Save the pleasantries, rat. We both know why I’m here.”

As Lucifer stepped further into the room, the door behind him remained wide open, the light from the hallway illuminating the King’s figure. Alastor’s silhouette still danced within the shadows, the glow of his red eyes illuminating the space as he carefully followed the King’s movements.

“Ah, but do we really, Your Majesty? Enlighten me.”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. “You have an uncanny knack to create suffering with everything you touch. Now, you pull the strings of innocent lives. Do you thirst for power that fucking badly, to make a deal for someone’s soul?”

“They made a deal on their own whim,” Alastor retorted, waving his hands in a sweeping motion, brushing off the accusation, “How could I say no to such an offer? I’m a demon, if you can recall.”

The lights in the room began to flicker with renewed life, and Alastor’s sharp grin only made the fallen angel want to tear it from his face.

“Demons like you deserve to be ground into dust.” Lucifer snarled, closing the distance between the two. He lifted his head, meeting Alastor’s piercing gaze. His claws wrapped around the Radio Demon’s black bow tie, and he harshly tugged him down to his eye level.

Alastor stared at the grip with a deathly silence, his face contorting into sharper features, his pupils taking the dialed form once more.

Energy crackled in the room, a mix of both demon’s powers as the tension only continued to escalate. Alastor didn’t move from the hold, he knew better than to test that fate.

The lines above Lucifer’s lips scrunching as he stared at the demon with disgust. “You steal the souls of those weaker than you to fill that emptiness in your own, it’s pathetic.”

“Maybe.” Alastor shrugged nonchalantly, before a green spark sizzled against his bow-tie, and it limply fell from his clothing in Lucifer grip. He turned away, stalking towards the cutting board on the counter.

“Don’t walk away from me, you freak. Lest I do everyone in this hotel a favor and remove you from existence right here.”

A dark chuckle bounced against the walls, filling the room as Alastor kept his back to Lucifer. “Ah, but if you kill me, they die too. Souls entwined with each other, you see. Such a dilemma, wouldn’t you say?”

Lucifer gritted his teeth, cursing his oversight. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

Alastor’s voice took on a sly tone. “But fear not, Your Majesty. I’m not without mercy. I understand the affection you hold for such a.. charming demon.”

Lucifer’s gaze hardened, suspicion clouding his features. “What do you want?”

“Why don’t we.. make a d̴̻͉̺̆è̴̛͎̟̖̻͐a̵̭̫͆͆̽l̸͓͍̽̆̀̕?” Alastor’s tone crackled with static, as he spun to face the fallen angel. His head tilting curiously to one side, watching Lucifer’s expression.

Lucifer laughed, an audible ha-ha as the words left Alastor’s lips. He twisted his cane between his fingers, his claws leaving small etched lines trailing behind his movements.

“A deal with you? Do you actually expect me to give you my soul?”

Alastor’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, not your soul, silly! It’s nothing too extravagant. Just a little exchange of power. After all, what’s a deal between demons?”

“And, what exactly does this deal entail?”

Alastor paused for a moment, his intense gaze never leaving. “I have.. a few affairs I never got to settle when I died. I’d like to be able to return to that filthy place, whenever and wherever I want.”

“That’s it?” Lucifer asked in disbelief, his head leaning back slightly as he processed the demon’s words. “You want access to the human realm? You’re standing before the King of Hell! Why not simply ask for my title?”

Damnit, Lucifer, is it really the time to get your pride twisted?

“Oh, I couldn’t be bothered to bare such responsibilities of a king. I’d take your strength in a heartbeat though, but we both know you aren’t powerful enough to bless me with such a gift.”

The mockery in Alastor’s tone of the fallen angels' lack of heavenly abilities, spurred Lucifer. Who’s horns were fully out for view now, that small fire licking hungrily between them.

“Well? What is it going to be, Your Majesty?” Alastor hummed, his nails clicking against the countertop. “Do you want their soul or not?”

A demon like Alastor, being granted the ability to leap from the realms? It was much different than giving Amsodueus’ little spawns access via that orange crystal, who didn’t hold the kind of magic the demon before him did.

What would he do when he was up there? Steal more souls? Go on a slaughter spree? There was no telling with the twisted man before him.

But… it was Heaven’s problem. Wasn’t it? It was them who cast Lucifer away from the place he helped create, and now it was their job to clean up the messes.

“Why would you give me something of such value for something like that?” Lucifer asked after a moment.

“Because your little lover is a deep pain in my side, always disrespecting and challenging my words. If it wasn’t for that silver tongue of theirs, I’d have killed them ages ago.”

Lucifer growled, golden flames dancing on his fingertips at Alastor’s words.

“They also don’t have any value. No power, no status, just a beggar on the street when I found them all those years ago. You could say I only made such a deal because I pitied their pathetic existence.”

‘If this guy keeps talking, I might just have to kill him.’

Time stood still in that room for a moment, the ending of the song playing from the radio the only indicator that the realm was still moving around them.

“I’m waiting~” Alastor sung, both demons locking eyes with each other across the room instensly.

As Lucifer weighed the consequences, a firm line set on his lips as he nodded. "Very well, Alastor," he said, extending a hand towards the demon. "We have a deal."

Their hands met in a firm shake, and as their fingers intertwined, a surge of dark energy crackled between them. Wisps of shadow and flame danced around their clasped hands, swirling around the duo.

Alastor was lost in a maniacal fit of laughter, as large eyes and symbols danced around him. That smile on his lips changed, as lines of thread locking his teeth together, as if someone had forcefully stitched that grin in place.

The air itself seemed to tremble with the force of their agreement, and the room pulsed with an otherworldly energy. The very fabric of reality seemed to warp and bend around them as the terms of their pact solidified.

Suddenly, you burst into the room, your eyes widening in fear as you saw the two demon’s hands entwined. You placed a hand to your mouth in shock, as you realized exactly what they were doing.

“Oh, no no no NO!” You cried hoarsely against the loud rushing wind, pushing you against the wall. What kind of deal was Lucifer making?!

With a final burst of darkness, the pact was sealed, and both demons drew back. Alastor’s eyes gleamed with newfound power. His aura crackled with renewed strength, and the demon’s grin widened with satisfaction.

His eyes landed on you, a twisted smirk on his lips as he vanished in a plume of smoke. The intensity of it causing your eyes to water, and to fall into a fit of coughs.

The echoes of their agreement lingered in the air in a mixture of green and gold sparks of energy. Lucifer stood alone in the room, before he took a step backwards, stumbling slightly as you reached him.

Taking his arm, you yank him out of the room, into the hallway. You scan over his figure, your heartbeat quickening as you search for any kind of injuries.

“What did you do? You didn’t make a deal for your soul, did you?!” You cried in panic, your hands on both sides of Lucifer’s face as he blinked away the fog from behind his eyes.

“Of course, I didn’t.” Lucifer muttered between your palms, “I simply gave him some power that he can go fuck off with for the rest of eternity.”

“But.. he c-could—oh, why would you do that?! That was so stupi—”

Lucifer quickly wrapped his fingers around your forearms, shaking you gently to get you to look at him. The slits of his pupils trained intently on your look of distraught.

“For you!” He growled, and you slammed your mouth shut. His breath was ragged, his lips downturned into a painful frown as he watched your lip begin to quiver.

“I made a deal to exchange your soul for a little power, because I cannot bare seeing you suffer any longer. Do you get that? I walked into your bedroom, to find you bruised and in tears. Over what, spilled milk?!”

“I can take it, I've been taking it.” You cried, arms shaking as you fidgeted in his hold. Shame clawing at your throat. Why did you have to be so fucking useless when it came to things like this?

“No! Stop that. Stop lying to me! That ‘everything is fine and dandy’, when it’s not. I’m the goddamn King of Hell, and I can’t even protect you because you refuse to let anyone prove that you matter.”

Lucifer squeezed his eyes shut, head leaning into your shoulder as he took a deep breath. Your scent easing his anger slowly as he sunk into your embrace.

“You matter so much to me, you and Charlie. If I have to make a deal with a douchebag like him, to save your soul, then so be it. I don’t care what he takes from me.”

Tears spilled from your cheeks, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You both fell to your knees, and it was your turn to lean into his embrace. Your shoulders shook as you sobbed into his chest.

You were finally free from that monster. He couldn’t hurt you anymore, couldn’t lay a finger on you without consequence. Yet, your tears were also of sadness. You had tried so hard to prevent this, to prevent Lucifer from being selfless and allowing Alastor to win.

You felt hands gently rubbing at your back, a soothing motion that quelled your quivering figure slightly. It was so warm, like laying in front of a lively fireplace. You wanted to stay there forever.

You were so tired. The mental exhaustion that had been plaguing your mind all these months finally slamming into you, and you lay there limp against his embrace.

“Please.. please don’t cry. I love you, I love you.” Lucifer whispered softly, his voice cracking as he pulled you deeper into his hold. He kept repeating those words, ‘I love you’, as he placed soft kisses against your forehead.

You felt the soft touch of feathers graze against your ears, and cracked open an eye to see Lucifer’s wings engulfing the both of you. They nestled into you, rubbing against your cheek softly, lulling you into a sleepy daze.

“I’ve got you, I promise.” Lucifer whispered into your ear. “You’re safe, you’re loved, I'm so sorry.”

You placed a soft kiss to his collarbone, and snuggled deeper into his chest. Thankfully, no one was around to bother the two of you as you sat on the floor in the hall.

Just five minutes. That’s all you needed, five minutes basking in his warmth, in his soft words of affection. Five minutes to promise yourself you’d never let him do something like this again.

And maybe, everything would be alright.

you guys 😭 i made sure this fic was cooked, damnit!! A little more fast-paced than usual, but I hope you can forgive me for that. i also could not settle on what kind of deal alastor wanted to make, so i blind drew out of a hat. i just wanted to bring in a little drama, and it’s hard when one of them is can be easily bodied haha

i honestly have to stop telling yall how long I think my fics will be bc i said “oh i want this to be as long as artist!reader pt. 4”, yet it’s roughly 6-7k over it someone kill me

let me know what you think 🫶

[Lucifer] taglist: @ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @loslox @sukxma @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @laurenlaurie @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @mint129106 @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @lowkeyhottho @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @blue122 @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home

#lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #hellaverse #lucifer #alt title: you’re the rizzler this time

2K notes · View notes

sorrowfulrosebud · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! I have a request.

Okay so 1-A bakugou end’s up to the future. Where he sees that he has a family with reader and sees what a simp he will become🫣

And how would future bakugou and reader (+ the kids) react to meeting him.

(You can choose if past bakugou knows reader or not)

I’m sorry if it’s confusing,

It was safe to say that Katsuki was beyond pissed. He was certain that at this point he was never going to fully get your attention, not with that damned Todoroki always swooping in before he can even look your way.

==================================

The cacophony of grunts from the students plundered against the walls of Gym Gamma. It was self-improvement day and Aizawa was NOT letting anyone rest.

“Keep it up class. Those who fail to break some sort of barrier today will receive double homework for a week. I’m looking at you, Kaminari,” Aizawa grinned evilly. You let out a giggle at Kaminari’s audible gulp before Aizawa shot you a glare.

Katsuki was busy increasing the flow of his AP shot; he thought that if he could increase his sweat, he could increase the speed of which the blasts sped out. The poor rock he was blasting was finally on its last legs, all before that IDIOT Kaminari accidentally bumped into him and caused a rockslide, directly above the platform that you were training on.

“Hey, watch!-” he yelled in a panic. He saw fear flash through your eyes as he willed his body to move. Thankfully for you and begrudgingly for him, a smooth glacier of ice barricaded you from being concussed with Bakugou’s debris.

Todoroki hopped his way from his platform to you and placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Are you alright? You aren’t hurt are you?” Todoroki asked, examining your head for injuries. You shook him off you with a nervous smile.

“Thank you for stopping the debris Todo, but I’m fine. It was shock, I’m not hurt,” you reassured him gently. Todoroki gave you another once over before seeing where the damage came had arrived from.

“I would recommend being more careful next time, Bakugou. Someone could have gotten really hurt,” Todoroki gave him a meaningful glare as Katsuki fought every vein pop in his neck at his implications. Kaminari let out a guffaw, before he let out a squeak of terror at the animalistic look on Katsuki’s face.

“Laugh. Again. I. Freakin’. Dare. You,” he strained angrily through gritted teeth.

“O-okay Kaachan!” Kaminari speedily ran away from the threat as Katsuki stared at the back of your head. Well, now he was in a bad mood.

==================================

Katsuki was the first one in the changing room, and the first one out. He trudged his way to the UA dorms so he could shower and forget the whole day. He couldn’t stand the idea of being teased right now, not when he was so careless to the point that you nearly got concussed. Well, that never would have happened if Dunce Face watched where he was going…

Katsuki was torn from his thoughts as he barged past another student.

“Hey, watch where you’re fucking!-”

And just like that, Katsuki fell to the ground.

==================================

It took Katsuki a long time to start stirring from his sleep. It was a gradual process, but somehow he managed to tear the sleep from his body as he was poked and shaken incessantly by someone. Katsuki jumped up immediately in surprise, throwing a blast at his assailant. His assailant was no match for him though, springing back and using their quirk to restrain him.

Katsuki wiggled in his restraints like a wild animal, snapping and snarling.

“What the hell do you want with me you bastards! Let me the hell go or I’ll fucking kill you!” He snarled with purpose. A soft giggle filled his ears. A familiar giggle.

Soft (S/C) skin filtered through his still blurry vision until he saw… you.

You were at least a good 20 years older, some laughter lines he didn’t remember seeing (not that he definitely doesn’t scan you every time you’re close to him), as well as new scars.

Your eyes had aged too, the bags slightly more prominent but you were still you. You had four small children gathered around the bed gawking at the teen. The smallest was in your lap, seemingly frightened of Katsuki.

“Easy there tiger, you just woke up. I found you in the street asleep, so I took you to a hospital to see if you’re okay,” you offered an explanation that only answered some of his questions.

“Who the damned hell are you?? Why the hell am I here?? Argh, damnit! Let me out of these shitty restraints!” He demanded. Your face hardened in an instant as you glared at him.

“Hey, no fucking swearing in front of my children! If you’re going to talk and ask questions, you need to be respectful. You’re frightening my son with your endless shouts, so what’s your name and we can call your parents to come collect you.”

Katsuki let himself be still for a moment, glowering at you before relaxing his pose.

“My name is Katsuki Bakugou. I was hit by a quirk on my way to the UA’s dorms, I fell asleep I think, and the next thing I know is I’m in a hospital bed surrounded by someone who looks like a classmate of mine,” Katsuki growled. Your face grew a look of puzzlement.

“D-did you say… Katsuki Bakugou? As in, explosion quirk, super goal oriented, current number 2 hero?” You questioned him worriedly.

Katsuki gave you a strange look. How the hell would you know about that stuff??

“I’m only a high school student so I can’t be the number two hero yet, but everything else is true. Look, here’s my quirk,” he said as he let off a few sparks. The small children around the bed looked on in awe at the sight as you chewed your nails.

Katsuki looked back up to you and saw your expression.

“Why?” He asked.

You gulped.

“Because I’m married to Katsuki Bakugou.”

==================================

“Baby, I need you to come to the hospital in Kyoto, it’s an emergency! What? No, me and the kids are fine, we-. Hey, I told you we’re okay, but you have to be here as soon as you can. I’ll send you the details. I love you, see you in a bit.” You hung up the phone with an ashen face as you made your way back to your chair. Your children were bombarding Katsuki with questions, all too weird for Katsuki to answer.

“Papa, why are there two of you?”

“Daddy, why don’t you remember us? Did we do something bad?”

“Dad, why do you look so young? Where are all of your cool scars?”

“Alright kids, give the kid some space. We obviously need to get this fixed somehow. How we’re gonna do that is beyond me though,” you massaged your temples with a sigh. You glanced back up to young Katsuki.

“You’re definitely not a clone or something? Not some sort of fanboy who cosplays in his spare time?” You asked him, half joking.

Katsuki snorted.

“No, I don’t cosplay heroes. I beat them in the hero ranks to show them that I’m the best!” He exclaims.

“God, you even sound like my husband. I’m getting more and more convinced that this is some sort of weird time shift,” you stopped speaking as soon as a muscular figure pulls himself through the door. Katsuki physically stills.

It was him, but older.

At first, older Katsuki didn’t give him a look in. He scrambled over to you, kissing you deeply before checking you over for injuries.

“Where are you hurt?? Are you alright?? Speak to me??” He demanded. You carefully push him off you and rub your thumb on his cheek.

“Sweetie, I told you I’m fine. See, even the quadruplets are fine. We have a major problem though, and I don’t know how we’re going to solve it,” you gestured to younger Katsuki. Older Katsuki glares at younger Katsuki before a look for confusion befalls his face.

Katsuki looked… older. His face was more structured, yet still maintained some of his puppy fat. Scars littered his face, the most noticeable a large triangle that went from the middle of his cheek to the underside of his neck. His hair was shorter too, buzzed at the side. He towered over you easily and his pecs looked even bigger than before. Taunt muscles flexed at the threat to his wife and children.

“Can someone explain what the fuck happened?”

“Katsuki, stop fucking swearing!”

==================================

Until he was back to his current time, you had pleaded with your husband to let him stay. Older Katsuki agreed when his babies started pleading too, chubby cheeks wobbling with unshed tears at the idea of their older daddy throwing out their younger daddy.

And for the last few days, he had lived with you and his (?) children. Older Katsuki was mostly at work when he woke up, and he wouldn’t see him unless he stayed up past his bedtime (he could never compromise his sleep).

He spent some time babysitting your children, the quads. The eldest, Akira, was a total carbon copy of him, apart from his hair texture and colour. He was so bold when facing younger Katsuki, asking him questions and hiding his siblings behind him when they properly met.

The second eldest daughter, Aika, was more like you; shy and reserved but very playful all the same. She was a more balanced mixed of the two of you (?).

Your third daughter, Kokoro, was a pain in his ass. She constantly played tricks on Katsuki, taunting him and making mean jokes (all before she was shut down with your stare).

And finally, your littlest quadruplet Keiko, was honestly kinda his favourite in the strangest way; he was so different to his siblings it was unreal. He was the smallest, most sensitive of the bunch. In a way, he reminded him of Deku when they were kids, but with his colour hair.

The morning of the third day, you sat him down with your children at the breakfast table and grilled him a fry up. Each of your children were giggling happily in their high chairs, scrambled eggs and ketchup smeared around each mouth. Katsuki let out a small smile when Keiko offered him a piece of toast from his plate before denying it with a “no thanks squirt, your ma is making me some”.

“Well, good news! I found the person who you described and asked them how long the quirk should last. You should be back to your own time by next week, maybe even earlier if you’re lucky,” you smiled as you flipped the sizzling bacon in the pan.

Katsuki was scarfing the breakfast like there was no tomorrow, up until you said that he should be home sometime by next week.

That’s good, he thought. I really want to know something though, I might as well take advantage of the situation.

He looked up at you, one burning question on his mind.

“I bet you’re wondering how me and … well, I suppose you got together, huh?” You grinned at him.

“How could you tell that’s what I was thinking?” He demanded. You let out a laugh.

“Katsuki hun, I’ve been married to you, er, him for over 15 years. I know all of your little tricks and tells, so don’t even try hiding them,” you offered more bacon to him. He accepted, before you turned your attention to the kids in their high chairs.

“Let me clean up my mucky little pups up first and we’ll talk after I’ve dropped them off at daycare.”

==================================

It was a pleasant day, Katsuki noted. After dropping off the children at the daycare and added cuddles from the babies, you did as you promised and hurried Katsuki to the couch with a photo book.

“See here, this is a photo I took of us at our first date. You were so nervous, your hand kept popping and you had to keep wiping your hand,” you laughed fondly at the memory. Katsuki peered at the photos with a strange feeling lying in his tummy. Is this why he felt so nervous around younger you all of the time?

“Oh! And here, this was our trip with the class to France! I had said something about the croissants being delicious, and you took that as a challenge. I was eating the croissants you made for days,” you let out another laugh as you recounted tales of your relationship.

Katsuki stared at you for a solid 5 seconds. You stared at him back until his face hardened and he turned himself away. You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Is something the matter hun?” You pried carefully. Damnit, you even knew the right nicknames to make him feel all weak inside.

“Just… why the hell would you go out with someone like me, hah? I’m loud, I’m obnoxious, I can be pretty freakin’ mean, so why? Why would you ever let me have a home with you?! Why would you ever let me grow a family with you?!? Why do you seem so happy, even though there’s a chance I may never come back?!?” He was borderline yelling at the end of his lament, tears threatening to plop onto the pages of the photo album.

You hugged Katsuki tightly, fingers playing with the baby hairs on the nape of his neck, all soft and gentle.

“Katsuki… I have no idea how far you’re into the relationship with younger me, but I’m going to let you in on a secret. I had a crush on you since our first day. I thought you were so strong and handsome, although you had some angst problems. Even after that, I always admired you from afar.

It hasn’t always been easy with you, as I’m sure you’re aware of. You can be loud and mean, and that has caused some rifts in our relationship, but,” you lifted his head up and cleared some tears.

“You’re also dedicated. You found ways to make up for your mistakes, and I always forgave you for them. I wanted a family with you because I love you, er, older Katsuki. We’re so blessed to have the quadruplets, even if they’re little pains sometimes. And yeah, there isn’t a day that goes by when I’m not panicked beyond all belief when you’re at work, but I wouldn’t stop you because it’s your dream.”

Katsuki looked at you. Your eyes held nothing but sincerity as he smoothed his breathing.

“Now come on, let’s go make some spicy noodles. My husband will be back soon.”

==================================

Katsuki helped you diligently in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with renewed vigour. Older Katsuki trudged through the door with a loud grunt, you immediately dropping the pan on the hob to give him a welcome home hug.

“Welcome back baby, how was work? It was nice that Kiri offered to cover your shift,” you rambled happily into his neck. Katsuki let out a barking laugh at your clinginess as he picked you up and kissed you, making you squeal in surprise.

Younger Katsuki stared at your display; is this how you’re going to be in the future? Allowing him to kiss your neck when he comes home from work, cooking his favourite meals, keeping your home in tact?

“Oi, quit starin at my wife you pervert,” older Katsuki barked before you slapped his chest playfully.

“Leave him be, he’s literally you, you big dumb dumb. I’ve been letting him in on some of our dates and stuff so he can seduce younger me into wanting you,” you teased. Both Katsuki’s huffed simultaneously, earning a laugh from you. You wriggled yourself out of his grip and led him to the dining room where the meal you and younger Katsuki created.

You kissed his cheek as you went to fetch him a drink, leaving both Katsuki’s by themselves.

Older Katsuki stared menacingly at his younger self before clearing his throat.

“Listen brat, we need to fuckin’ talk,” he starts, rearranging himself on the chair and nudging the other chair adjacent to him. Younger Katsuki did so with hesitation.

“I’m fuckin’ tellin’ ya now, if you do anything that wrecks what I have now, I’m gonna come back in time to kick your ass,” he growls lowly.

“I love that damned woman more than anything in this godforesaken planet, as well as my little pack of brats. I would do anything for them, and I’ll be damned if you do anything that fucks that up for me,” he glares at him. Younger Katsuki slowly put two and two together and looked pointedly at the scar on his cheek. Older Katsuki knew where he was looking immediately.

“I, we, got this scar during a villain attack. (Y/N) took the brats to the park after a stupid fucking fight we had, and a villain attacked them out of nowhere. Luckily, I was patrolling there and stopped them from hurting them, so I took the blow in her place. I would do it a million times over for her,” his voice audibly softens whilst talking about you, eyes downcast to the large scar on his cheek.

He touches it almost fondly, as if he was proud of the scare. Knowing Katsuki, he probably was. He looked back up at younger Katsuki, who had a contemplating look.

“So…. Please. Don’t hurt her younger self in any way. I wouldn’t be able to survive without her. If you argue, hold your tongue even if you’re right. Treasure her. Make her feel like she’s the most incredible woman in the damned world, cos she fuckin is,” he finished with a doleful look in his eyes.

“…okay. I’ll, I’ll try,” younger Katsuki promised. Older Katsuki nodded and cleared his throat as you walked into the room. You presented the bottle of beer with a happy grin and a kiss on the cheek and a ruffle of the hair for younger Katsuki.

Fuck, he was smitten.

==================================

“Daddies, watch me!” Aika grunted loudly as she successfully tiptoed from one end of the couch to another. Older Katsuki clapped and whooped in adoration whilst younger Katsuki looked on in pride.

“That’s my little ballerina! You’re gonna be the most graceful dancer ever, pumpkin!” Older Katsuki cheered, sweeping her up on his shoulder and making her squeal.

Kokoro looked on in jealousy with a pout on her face before a brilliant idea struck her. She toddled back to the couch and attempted the exact same feat as her sister, except on the back of the couch.

Keiko sat below her and watched her with a fearful expression.

“Papas, watch me! I can do it better than Aik-AAAAA!” She shrieked as she went to fall on the cushions of the couch, and subsequently Keiko. Keiko let out a scared cry as younger Katsuki swooped in to save him, carrying him in his left arm and catching Kokoro diligently in his right.

Keiko sobbed loudly into Katsuki’s broad shoulder, clinging to him with impressive strength. He nestled in as close as he could, passing Kokoro to his older self as he tried shushing Keiko.

“There there brat, you’re okay. Shhh, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” he murmured softly into his ear. He tried rocking him softly in his arms the same way you did and he was slowly left with a hiccuping, sleepy toddler.

“Damnit Kokoro, this is why I tell you to be careful! Every time you try to show Aika up, you end up hurting someone and yourself. Are you hurt, Keiko?” Older Katsuki asked Keiko. Keiko shook his little head into younger Katsuki’s neck.

Kokoro started tearing up at older Katsuki’s tone and looked down in shame. He visibly softened at his daughter’s tears and wiped them away with his fingers.

“Just be more careful, okay pumpkin?” He said firmly. Kokoro nodded and offered Keiko an apology.

==================================

The next time Katsuki woke up, it was in a hospital bed. Specifically, Recovery Girl’s clinic. The light filtered through the blinds, hitting Katsuki in the face and making him stir.

IV wires and tubes fed into him and made it hell to try to sit up, before he saw a sleeping figure near his knees.

It was younger you.

He nudged you with his knee in order to wake you up. You looked dreadful; massive eye bags, lips nibbled red raw, sniffly pink nose like you hadn’t stopped crying.

“Oh my god, you’re awake! I’ll go get Recovery Girl!” As you moved to get her, Katsuki grabbed your hand.

“W-what…,” his voice felt strange, like it wasn’t his.

“What the damned hell happened?” He croaked out.

Your face saddens as you looked away.

“You seemed really upset after our last training session, so I went after you to find you. You had collapsed just outside of the Height’s Alliance building and you wouldn’t wake up whatsoever,” your voice cracks. Katsuki let out an “oh”.

You gained your composure before looking at Katsuki again.

“So, how do you feel? Is anything hurt? What happened?” You interrogated him. Katsuki rolled his eyes at your pestering before a sly grin crossed his face.

“Why, were ya worried about me?” He teased and watched as your face turned a bright pink. You flapped your hands around in a panic.

“It’s just because you’re my classmate is all! You wouldn’t wake up, and I didn’t want you to stay like this for ages!” You rambled in a worried state. Katsuki let out a gruff laugh before wincing at his voice.

Well, better shoot my shot, he thought.

“Well, I’ll tell ya what. Go out with me this Saturday and I’ll tell ya everything,” he promised.

The pink in your face told him everything that he needed to know.

#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader fluff #bakugou #kinda angsty? idk #bakuboy is whipped for you #domestic bakugou is one of the best bakugous #domestic bakugou #time travel is a cool but weird concept #hope this makes sense 😭

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yoonia · 4 months ago

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the bedroom hymns ● chapter xxi

⟶ Chapter summary | Mysteries continue to unfold as you carry on with your solo adventures, not realising that every piece of the past that you have uncovered in your journeys traces back in time, aligning themselves with what has been written for you by the will of fate.

⟶ Title | The Bedroom Hymns: a Bluebeard’s twist ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader ⟶ Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Crown Princess!reader, Fantasy!AU, Fairy Tale retelling ⟶ Word count | 11,872 words ⟶ Ratings | PG-13, +18 / M for Mature for future chapters; include magic terms, classism, depiction of fantasy ritual act, mention of fantasy religion/beliefs, mention of war, violence, weapons, sword fighting, blood, injuries. ⟶ Story Masterlist: The Bedroom Hymns | ⤎ previous chapter | next chapter ⇢ ⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Feedback | Music Playlist | Ko-fi

⟶ Author’s note | After a long wait, we finally have a new chapter out. I’m sorry for keeping you from this update for so long. It was a hard journey to get this one done, since some personal stuff kept getting in the way. The chapter ‘ Serendipity’ has grown significantly during the writing process, so I had to split the chapter into three separate parts, and then even smaller parts on Wattpad for better reading experience. I hope you’ll enjoy reading this chapter!

chapter xxi. serendipity-1

A temple.

The relief you felt for not finding yourself plunging into the rough sea or crashing down onto the sharp rocks on the shoreline was quickly replaced by bafflement when you saw where you had ended up in instead.

Once your shock subsides, unease settles in. You aren’t quite sure why. This place doesn’t even look like the disintegrating temple you saw in your dream the previous night.

This place reminds you more of E’l Alora; the mountains where giant dragons were flying around the human town built against the cliff’s wall, with its massive ravine and the castle on the rocks.

Realisation dawns on you once you get to look at the little details of the temple a bit closer. Not a grand structure standing atop a hill, but a structure built within a mountain. As if a part of a mountain or a hill had sunken into the earth, forming a cave hidden within, surrounded by what was left of the mountain, and the temple was carved out of the rocky materials that had once been the core of the alp.

Looking up, your eyes are met with the streaks of sunlight penetrating through the opening above your head. The sunlight here is quite murky—dull and grey as if the sun is hiding somewhere else instead of hanging up high in the sky, causing the colours around you to seem muted and washed out—yet it is still enough to illuminate the dark temple, giving you a clear sight of everything that is present right before your eyes.

The door that you had just emerged from lies at the back of the room, facing directly towards the temple’s center where you can have a clear view of the dais spread along the length of the temple walls. A platform at the center rises slightly higher, made up of dark grey stone slabs that seem to have emerged from the ground rather than been carved by human hands.

Meanwhile, a part of the ground at the center of the temple sinks deeper, creating a small crater in the middle of the main praying hall which is now filled with water. The nave area for the worshippers, filled with rows of benches made out of stone, was built around the pond instead of going around the dais, making it seem like the pool itself is the main focus point of the temple.

The humming magic coming out of the portal feels like cold breeze brushing against your back. Looking over your shoulder, you see a line of small alcoves covered in draperies in place of doors—banners filled with symbols of a chalice and crescent moon drawn on dark blue backgrounds, with two arches of ivy drawn on the top and bottom as frames. One of the draperies is flicking gently behind you as if a breeze is flowing from within, only that magic hums from it and sparks light up as it brushes against your skin.

The door. This will be my exit.

Suppressing a shiver running down your spine, you turn away from it and carefully walk across the vacant temple, following the ray of lights from above to find your exit while taking everything in.

Standing right at the heart of the main hall, the old, seemingly abandoned temple feels grand and noble at the same time, yet solemn in its stillness. The way the temple itself seems to have been crafted by nature makes it even more otherworldly.

It makes you feel small. Insignificant among the nature that has formed this place a long time ago.

The rocky walls around you stand three stories high, each level marked by small open corridors framed with stone bannisters. Rows and rows of small alcoves were carved into the rocky surface the same way the doors behind you are made, only without any banners hanging as covers. The sight reminds you of the hundreds of doors lining up the floors of Stargrave Castle, and also of E’l Alora—how its human town was built against the rocky walls of the ravine. Only that these alcoves appear dark and lifeless, housing nothing more but shadows.

You wonder if these alcoves had once served significant purposes for the ceremonies that were held in this place.

If only you had a way to get higher, would you be able to see marks of chairs between the alcoves for the royals who came to join or witness the rites? Perhaps there would be small altars up there where they put the statues of the Ancients that they were praying to in this place and they were set up as private praying chambers instead?

Turning away from the walls, you look up to the dais on the ground floor and make your way towards it. Eyes on the platform standing at the center, you try to imagine this place coming alive with a rite—you picture the leaders of ceremonies taking their places atop the platform, the nave filling up with their devotees and disciples.

If only you know the significance of the pool of water that is glimmering under the dim sunlight in front of you. From up close, you notice that the pool is glowing in the shade of jade—as if jade stones were laid at the bottom of the pond—but the surface of the water is clear like crystals, and you can see your face reflected perfectly on it when you look down.

Curious, wondering if you can find any clue, you take a closer look at the raised dais.

There is no such altar just like what you’ve seen at the temples you visited back in Smotia, nor there are seats or couches like what you had seen in the royal churches. But mantles are built against the walls, lined up with burnt candles. You can also see those candles lined up perfectly on the low platform in front of the dais. Some of them are burnt halfway, others are burnt completely to the bottom. You reach out, waving your palm above the burnt wicks and are caught by surprise when you still feel some warmth there. Showing you that at least a couple of them were recently burned.

So not completely abandoned, then.

You pull your hand away with a flinch once you look a bit closer, seeing a couple of silver goblets which have been placed between the burnt candles. At one glance, they seem to be empty. Yet as you bend down over the one closest to you, you can see a drop of liquid pooling at the bottom.

Wine. Still partially wet, as if it had just only been used recently.

So this place is still used. But where are the people now?

You strain your ears, eyes, and your other senses, trying to feel out any presence of a person, any figure that might be lurking in the dark temple, and feel nothing. Turning away from the abandoned offerings and burnt candles, you look past the pool of water, across the main hall, to see another source of light. An open stone archway stands at the other side of the hall, where lights are filtering through into the main hall.

The main entrance door.

From this distance, you cannot see too clearly what is waiting on the other side of the opening. But then a draft comes flowing through the temple, followed by a low, resonant whistling noise that almost sounds like a soft howl of an animal echoing through the open archway. At the same time, the light that you see coming from the opening begins to flicker, shifting between the dim golden light of burning torches or candles and the grey of sunlight that appears far duller than the sky above.

A tunnel, you realise with a grim smile. There is a tunnel beyond the archway leading you towards the exit, and you can only hope that no other surprises are waiting there.

Slowly, you make your way across the dark temple. You try to be careful with your steps, doing your best to keep away from the slippery part of the stone floor around the pool. And yet your soft footsteps cannot stop the sound of your boots from echoing through the temple. The sound keeps bouncing against the walls as you walk on, sounding far too loud against the silence, making you feel even more hyperaware of your surroundings.

Wrapping your palm around the hilt of your short sword, you walk through the stone archway, finding yourself in a short span of a tunnel. The stream of sunlight coming through the tunnel keeps the darkness at bay, in addition to the flickering torches that are hung along the length of the cavern, causing shadows to dance around you on the cold stone walls.

You continue walking, your grip remaining firm on the hilt of your sheathed sword and your eyes ready, and then you carefully step into the light—or, in this case, lack thereof.

Out here, beyond the grim darkness of the temple, the world is looking just as ghastly. From the threshold of the temple lies a spread of grove half the size of the temple’s main hall. Filled with thin trees, the grove expands toward the descending plain and ends at what seems to be the edge of a city.

Carrying the same caution, you tread through the grove, still with your hand ready on the hilt of your sword. Walking under the sparse line of trees in the grove doesn’t leave you feeling much of being under their protection.

The trees here remind you an awful lot of the trees you saw in E’l Alora. With barks and branches that glimmer in similar shades of pale and rotten grey yet darker to almost black at the bottom half to the roots below, only thinner and longer, twisted in odd angles as if they were frozen in the middle of dancing with the cold wind or in their fight to avoid whatever terror came into this land. The leaves are also painted in similar shades of teal and dark grey, only that they appear sharper and thinner, so much so that they look like needles pointing up to the sky and do nothing to shield you from the sky.

The ground beneath the grove appears dark, as if covered in a thick layer of soot with not a sight of grass or undergrowth. As if the earth itself has been drained dry by the withering trees. In some parts, the dark soot is blanketed by a thin layer of dust and ash, as if the grove had once caught on fire leaving trails of its destruction undisturbed even as the trees began growing once more.

You walk a bit deeper into the grove, taking a few steps further until you reach the part where the ground begins to descend. Until you can have a better glimpse of what lies on the other side of these trees, and you finally come to a halt.

Because what you see on the other side only puts cold shivers down your spine.

Beyond the last line of trees, there is nothing but the ruins of an old city.

Crumbling structures stand before you, remnants of forgotten temples and a ghost of a majestic city that had once been vibrant and full of life. A grand skeleton of stone structures stands at the far end of the city, nearly floating above the river that seems darker than the jade-coloured pool you saw in the temple. The broken-down gates spreading around it become the only indication that you are looking at what used to be a palace—one that had once stood strong above the city, overlooking the land, the forest, and the mountain behind you. Beyond the remains of the fallen palace lies a vast terrain of rocky peaks, rising high like towers made of nature.

The vast plain of the city and the fractured roads have been overgrown with weeds, their insidious tendrils creeping over the withering foundations of the city to grasp whatever life remains. Tendrils of ivy and layers of moss cover most of the structures that are left standing, coating all the pale and bright-coloured stones with various shades of green. Any visible part of the ground not covered by weeds and broken stones has mostly formed into puddles of muddy water, leaving you to wonder if this place has truly been deserted, left behind and abandoned in its demise.

What happened here?

What happened to the people?

And what about the temple, the traces left behind to show that life still exists here?

Under the dim grey sunlight, the fallen city before you seems as if engulfed in a permanent shadow, leaving all the tone of colours to appear washed out—just as lifeless as the city itself.

You are suddenly reminded of your dream. The eerie sight of a kingdom dissolving into ruins that has been haunting your nights seems to have been manifested right before your eyes. Had it been a sign, a premonition of a once-existing place that you needed to find?

Captivated and enthralled by the sight of the fallen city before you, you lose focus on your own safety, on the ground you are standing on. And the next step you take ends with a misstep. Sending you straight into a puddle.

“Oh, fates,” you murmur to yourself as you lift your soaked boots out of the puddle of muddy water.

You whisper another curse under your breath as you shake off the mud from your booths, but having your attention drawn away from the daunting sight only draws your focus back to the dark grove around you.

It brings back your sense of awareness, enough to help you notice that the air around you has shifted. You are no longer alone.

A rustling sound reaches you from somewhere between the eerie-looking trees. A movement that is felt but left unseen. Spine stiffens, your hand returns to the hilt of your sword, and with a soft, indiscernible exhale of breath, you let silence fall so you can have a better listen to any changes happening all around you.

You briefly close your eyes, just in time for the noise to return. It is subtle, but you can sense the sound coming from your right. Yet when you rise and turn towards it, a loud shrill of a hawk echoes through the trees on your left. A flurry of movement catches your eyes when you swiftly turn towards the other side, before a shiny sword glares at you as it swings down towards you in a sudden attack.

“Fates,” you curse out as you pull out your sword to protect yourself, swiping it upwards to fend off the attack.

The force of the swords clashing on each other takes away the breath that you barely managed to take. You can feel your arms trembling as you take the brunt of the attack, but you keep your grip firm, steadying your weapon while you regain enough strength to return the blow. Your sword clinks against the unidentified assailant’s sword as you push him back, throwing him off of you before you step away.

With a swift, yet slightly clumsy motion—your boots nearly slipping, again, on the muddy ground—and your grip tightening on your sword, you adjust your stance to face your assailant.

The shrill of the hawk echoes through the air once again. This time, the animal appears at the corner of your eyes instead of hiding away, diving from the sky at a rapid speed to strike the face of a second assailant that you failed to notice and was just about to land a surprise strike at you with his sword. His attack fails, and now he is busy fending himself against the beast—a black-winged hawk twice, almost three times, the size of a normal adult man’s head.

The hawk is ferocious. The animal’s shrill continues to echo through the woods as it fights against the man in the tattered uniform and rusted armour, attacking his head, face, hands, and any part of his body that is not shielded by armour or the rapid swing of his sword.

Distracted by the other fight, you almost miss it when your first opponent regains his composure and makes his move. He lunges, taking the opportunity that was presented to him in your distraction, his sword slicing through the air with deadly precision, aiming straight to your left shoulder—or your throat, coming from the left, you cannot be too sure.

Yet you manage to deflect with just a small struggle, your blade clashing against his with a resounding clang. You twist your wrist as you rush forward, pressing on him and redirecting the force of the impact with a swift swipe aimed at his exposed side. He staggers back as your sword hits right beneath his armour, at the soft spot of his waist that is unprotected with nothing more but the belt holding up his sheath.

Pointing your sword at his face, you snap at him, “Who are you?”

A grunt escapes his lips as he finds his balance, while you use this chance to get a good look at him. His long and straggly raven hair is pulled to the back, leaving only a few loose and messy strands framing his sharp and defined face. There is a scar crossing his left eye, starting from right above the eyebrow to an inch below his bottom lashes. The shadows from the grove give him the perfect veil over his tanned skin and dark armour, yet you can still see the scars lining up his exposed arm, indicating that he isn’t one to be messed with.

His narrowed eyes flicker towards his companion who has failed to join the fight, the black-winged hawk keeps getting in the way of him trying to get closer. “We’re the ones who are supposed to be asking,” the scarred swordsman snaps at you. “You’re trespassing on private property. This place is forbidden to enter.”

You bite the insides of your cheeks to try and rein in your emotions and think of how to respond. You doubt that he will be so understanding if you try to tell him how you managed to arrive at this place.

“Then you must forgive me. I suppose I must’ve missed the sign,” you choose to say, realising that any form of logic would never work to defend yourself. “That still didn’t give you the right to swing your sword at people without a warning.”

Your opponent raises his sword back up and adjusts his stance to ready himself for another strike. “The only one who hasn’t got the right to be here is you.”

Scowling, while stealing a glance towards the other fight that is slowly dying down—the hawk already lessening its attacks when your second assailant is growing weak and tired—you try to calm yourself down and reason with him. “Listen, I’m just passing through. I mean no harm, and I have no means to cause any trouble.” Lifting your free hand up, you show him your open palm to support your claim. “Please, just let me pass.”

The scarred swordsman refuses to back down and sneers at you. “I find that hard to believe. Not many can find this place, much less to pass the borders, especially by mere coincidence.”

Pressing your lips together, you try to push down the shivers running through you at his words. You have no idea why you keep ending up in these places ever since you began travelling through the portals again.

Forbidden lands. Closed-off borders. Places where your protection spell suddenly becomes null.

A sacred land.

You have been keeping your eyes on your opponent while you are trying to process this, only to fail to notice that the other man has somehow found his bearings. The second assailant, now freed from the ominous hawk, seizes the opportunity and advances towards you with a flurry of rapid strikes. As if he is trying to express his anger over his wounds and his defeat against the wild animal by inflicting the same harm on you.

Yet he isn’t aware of how high your adrenaline is at the moment—both from the sparring you did with the royal guard earlier and the fight you just had with his companion. Your body may be spent, your mind is still reeling over what the first armoured man said to you about this place, yet your senses are still on high alert.

Your reflex is quick, and you weave and dodge his attack with barely seconds to spare. Your sword meets his blade in a series of sparks. In his anger, his movements are out of order and reckless, which will be dangerous for you to continue engaging as they are too unpredictable. Unable to read and to deflect easily.

Heart pounding, you spin to evade his final attack and snap the hilt of your sword against his bruising temple before delivering a sharp kick to his chest. The attack sends him stumbling backwards just as your first opponent returns to strike you from the other side. You sidestep from his swinging sword and retaliate, striking him from his right. Your sword finds its mark, cutting through his armour and drawing blood.

A pained cry leaves his lips as he falls back, giving a chance for his partner who has somehow recovered quickly to take over the fight.

The continuous assaults are beginning to drain you. Your body not only trembles as your second attacker returns with a strike, but you can almost feel sure you are seeing stars the moment your swords collide with each other. Your breath is heavy and ragged, your heart is pounding so hard it becomes the only thing you can hear, and both your muscles and bones are aching. As you stagger back, you realise that these men are trying to push you deeper into the grove, away from the temple and the city altogether.

Keeping your eyes on them as they prowl closer, you wonder if there is something hidden in the grove. But your mind is too preoccupied with focusing on how to survive this fight to even try and figure out what is hidden in the shadows.

Your upward swipe draws blood from your second attacker as your blade scraps his unprotected hips and your side kick brings him to his knee. You duck under a high swing and thrust your sword upward once again when his companion returns, catching him off guard when his surprise attack fails. He falters, clearly just as exhausted and spent as you are while bleeding profusely from the side of his waist. So you take the chance to disarm him with one strike, sending his sword skittering across the muddy ground.

Enraged, he makes a sound from deep inside his throat—which sounds like a growl—and pulls out a dagger from his back to retaliate. Cursing under your breath, you press down your shaking legs to the soot-covered ground beneath you and ready yourself to counter his attack when a voice sharply bellows from behind you, echoing through the grove.

“That’s enough!”

At the ominous voice, everything stills. The men that you have been fighting with, the wind, and even the will for you to move. Keeping your sword pointed at your opponent, you turn to look over your shoulder to see the intruder.

Pressure clamps down in your chest as the figure slips out of the shadow, worrying that you are about to face yet another threat. One should have been enough, two were already too many. And if you are going to have to deal with three—

Turning sideways to get a better look at your intruder without losing sight of your assailants, you bring the short sword forward to prepare yourself for an attack. The sound of their footsteps grows nearer, and you prepare to swing your hand down at them, only to immediately stop once the cloaked figure steps out into the limited streaks of sunlight filtering into the grove.

“You can put that thing away, child. I mean no harm,” the figure speaks in a gentle, yet firm tone of voice.

Thin, veiny hands are raised, gently lowering the hood of her cloak to reveal the sight of an old woman. The ageing lines on her face are visible even without any adequate light, and they soften when she smiles. Her hazel-brown eyes glint brightly under the dim lights falling on her as she takes you in. So bright, it looks almost golden. Her silver grey hair is pulled back to a thick braid, a striking difference to her rich golden-brown skin.

She stands there in silence after revealing herself to you, clasping her hands together over her torso as she waits until you put the weapon away, sheathing it back to the left side of your hip. But your grip remains on the hilt of your sheathed sword, holding steady, even if it’s only for the sake of finding any semblance of strength while preparing yourself in case the situation suddenly changes again.

The woman’s gaze follows your hand, taking account of the way your grip is tightening on your weapon. She makes no remark on it, however, as she looks up with a smile to regard the three of you, including the poor man still kneeling on the dirt, who—now that everything has calmed down—you are finally getting a good look on for the first time.

Unlike his companion, the wounded swordsman looks a bit younger, with dirty blond hair and a mesh of curls on top of a boyish round face that is now marred with streaks of blood—the work of the massive hawk earlier. His bright blue eyes are wide, which seems as if they are perpetually filled with fear. His hands have fallen to his sides, slightly trembling, seen through the sword that he is still carrying, and it pleases you to know that you weren’t the one having a tough time during the fight.

“Now, there really is no need for all this violence, is there?” the woman says, which only draws a scowl to your face upon hearing it.

“They attacked me first,” you point out with a scoff.

A rueful smile comes to her face. “I apologise for their rudeness, my dear. They’re not exactly used to welcoming surprise guests coming to our home,” she says, tilting her head down with more respect than an elder would normally give to a younger stranger. “But it is nice to see someone visiting our homeland again after so long. It might be too late to say this, but you are welcome here.”

The scarred man, who is clearly unhappy with this situation, snaps out of it and shouts, “High Priestess Gaia! What are you saying? She came in here without permission.”

He is soon joined by his wounded companion who suddenly finds his missing bravado to reason, “This place has been abandoned and forgotten for a long time. For someone to be able to come here means—”

“It means that they might have gotten their hands on a special key, or that fate has led her way here, just in time for the Full Moon Rite,” the woman—High Priestess Gaia—cuts off their rambling calmly, almost sounding like a mother chastising her rude boys. She gives them a pointed look as she adds, “Or the poor soul could have been lost. I’ve lived much longer in this realm than you have been, child. I don’t need you to lecture me about how things work in this place.”

Sensing no danger coming from her, you loosen your guard a little—shoulders sagging in quick relief and your hands falling away from your sheathed sword.

“So tell me. Are you lost, child?”

Feeling unsure, you glance back and forth between the Priestess and the swordsmen before answering. “I, uh—” You take a deep breath, suddenly finding it hard to think of the right words to say. “I was just passing by,” you finally manage to speak. Sighing, you try to shake off the tension still rolling in your body and tilt your head down, greeting the Priestess as formally as you can. “Forgive me for trespassing. I had no idea if this place was forbidden to enter.”

“It’s not,” High Priestess Gaia says without missing a beat—before any of the swordsmen can get a word in. “Just like the boy said. This place has been lost in time with no one coming to visit for a long time. Be it out of fear, or because this place has been written off from the maps of the realm.”

You can sense the movement from one of the swordsmen as he shifts on his feet, as if trying to dispute the high priestess’ words. Gaia, noticing the same thing, releases a deep sigh and looks over at them.

“Go back to the Keep. It’s almost time for the rite. I’m sure you will be more useful for the priests there,” she firmly says, and then turns to the wounded man still sitting on the ground to add, “And you’ll want to look at those wounds and have them tended.”

The scarred swordsman—the one still standing—grits his teeth, as if he is about to deny the order given to him. But then his companion lets out a deep grunt in his effort to rise to his feet, and he finally gives in. Nodding his head, the scarred swordsman swallows his displeasure and bends down to retrieve his sword. He glares at you as he sheaths his sword, before turning to help his friend to his feet.

“I’ll take him to the healer,” he says, bowing slightly at the priestess. Facing you again, his glare returns, as sharp as the tip of his sword as he swears, “Fates be damned, but if you even think about leaving a scratch on Gaia’s skin or posing a threat to her, I will come back here and end you myself.”

You return his glare with a stubborn tilt of your chin. “And as I have repeatedly said, I never meant any harm. I can promise you that there will be no harm committed to your priestess.”

Keeping your gaze locked on the scarred guard, you can see it when he finally backs down, the defiant look in his eyes wavering before he acknowledges you with a short nod. Wrapping the younger one’s arm around his shoulder so he can support him, he says nothing else and simply bows to the high priestess before finally walking away.

You watch them go, wobbling through the trees before they disappear in the shadows as they search for a healer.

“Go back to the Keep.”

So you were right, after all. There is something beyond this grove. You wonder if there are other swordsmen like them stationed in the Keep—guards who are responsible of watching over the temple and the ruined city—and were planning to hold you hostage there. Shaking your head, you choose not to dwell in the thought and turn to face the high priestess again.

She still has her eyes following the swordsmen, watching over them like a mother would to her sons.

Glancing over her shoulder, you realise that she is standing on the path which leads you back to the temple. It makes you wonder if that was where she had come from.

Has she been in the temple all along?

“I wasn’t aware that there was someone in the temple when I was in there.”

The wise, old woman turns her gaze towards you and smiles. “Strictly speaking, I was not. I was praying in my chamber. I only came down here because I felt something calling for me at the temple. Thought it was her, but I guess I was wrong,” she says with a deep, almost bitter chuckle. Her words and the look in her eyes are hollow when she mutters almost to herself, “I should’ve known better. It’s been too long since she came to visit this place.”

‘Her’?

The way she is speaking in riddles while looking as if she is lost in her own thoughts—memories—draws an icy, uneasy chill through your body. Her eyes appear haunted, as if lost somewhere in the past. That look lasts merely a moment longer before it fades, warmth fills her almost-golden eyes when she regards you again. But then the uneasiness returns when you are made to feel as if she is looking straight into your soul, unravelling your secrets without so much of a spell.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Not really,” you reluctantly admit. Unlike E’l Alora, which you were able to identify before ever stepping foot into their human town, this place doesn’t remind you at all of anything that you have ever read in your book of Ancients and Magic. “In a way, you were right, I got lost and stranded here for some reason.”

A light sound of laughter leaves you, only that it comes out a bit shaky with nerves.

“Forgive me if I sound rude, but,” you glance around the grove, shuddering under the shadows that have grown thicker now that the sun has lowered from the sky. “May I know what exactly is this place?”

The old woman looks at you with a knowing smile. “Come. It would be better if we find someplace more comfortable for us to talk,” she says to you as she turns, ready to head back to the direction where she came from. She might have sensed your hesitation, because she glances down at your forearm and gently points out, “Maybe we can also do something about that wound.”

You follow her gaze and look down, surprised to see a tear on your sleeve. From the torn fabric, you can see a long slash on the skin of your forearm, fresh blood still leaking out. A wound that came from the fight without you realising it.

“Oh, I didn’t realise,” you murmur with a flinch. You recall feeling a sting on your forearm at one point during the fight, yet you ignored it, focusing more on deflecting their swords and pushing back. Now that you finally notice the wound, your brain begins to register the pain.

Pressing your palm against the wound, you look at the high priestess with narrowed eyes. “You could’ve sent me off with your men to have this looked at.”

Gaia merely scoffs, as if the thought of allowing you to join the guards would have been unfathomable. “And risk them disobeying me once I’m not looking?” she asks, “I hope you’ll excuse those boys. They have taken their duty to guard this place to heart—perhaps a bit too much. Though I can’t excuse them for their rash behaviour. They should’ve reported to me first or any of the high priests before taking actions.”

You quickly shake your head. “I should be the one apologising for causing trouble.”

“There is no need,” she says. You can almost hear her smile when she turns away from you. “Now, come, before that wound gets worse. And you also fought quite hard, so who knows if there’s any other we’re not seeing.”

Lowering your arms to your side, you begin to follow the high priestess. But just as you are about to leave the fighting ground, Gaia lifts her hood and looks up to the trees.

“You might want to alert your friend and tell him that you’re doing fine with me. That might stop him from worrying too much,” she suddenly says, pointing up towards the black-winged hawk that had joined the fight earlier, now perched on one of the thin, twisted branches hanging above your head.

At the height of the fight, you have forgotten about it.

When you first saw it, you had simply thought that the hawk only appeared because you had intruded on its home. But Gaia’s comment only puts a confused frown on your face.

“What? But I thought the hawk is with you,” you question her, thinking that the animal is a part of the land, therefore, related to Gaia and the temple. But your question only draws another soft chuckle coming from her.

“Oh, no, dear. That handsome hawk came in together with you,” she says as she looks over her shoulder with a knowing smile, leaving you to wonder where the beast had come from, and why it had involved itself in your fight.

You were quite right for assuming that the high priestess had come from the mountain temple.

Well, you were partially right.

After your quick chat at the grove, Gaia led you back towards the mountain temple. But the moment you entered the entrance tunnel leading back into the main temple, she made a sharp turn and entered through an aperture in the stone wall that you had missed on your way out. It was dark, yet the moment she walked past the wall, torches lit up with flames that burned without any heat, illuminating the corridor and the set of stone steps leading upwards.

You followed her until she entered a simple stone room above the tunnel. The chamber was narrow and high-ceilinged, with candlelights flickering on the stone walls and the small wooden altar set on the end of the chamber. You saw no sight of a statue or drawings of any known Ancients around the altar, yet the wooden top was filled with scriptures, rolled and drawn open, with an opened book laid on the center.

Aside from the altar, the chamber was limitedly furnished. Nothing but one dark rug made up of animal skin covering the front of the altar, a shelf in the corner of the room which was filled with herbs and mixing bowls and even more books, and a single divan covered in silk—that was where you settled down soon after you entered the chamber.

And now the chamber is filled with the scent of herbs, a concoction that she made to help heal your wound. It feels cold on your skin, and it leaves an obvious stain which requires you to roll up your sleeve to avoid it getting soiled—even though you still worried about explaining the tear and the blood stain once you would have to hand it over to the palace maid.

“Seeing the way you are looking at this place, it seems that you’ve been to another sacred land before,” Gaia says, stating a fact rather than questioning, as she gently wraps a bandage around your wounded forearm, sealing the medicinal herbs while stopping your bleeding.

Nodding, you choose to explain it the best you can without giving too many details about your ‘trips,’ and without revealing that it had been merely a day before when you first encountered another sacred land. “I’ve travelled to different places, oftentimes finding myself stranded in strange places,” you share with a chuckle, “Such as this one.”

Gaia smiles and finishes her work. “Our homeland, this city of mountains, is called Arselon,” she says as she gathers the bowl of mixed herbs and bandages and starts putting them away. “The mountain temple has always been known as the temple of Arselon, even though it used to have its own name. Many used to travel far to come to our rites, specifically the nights of the full moon. Just like what’s happening tonight.”

You have so many questions. Much about this place, and more about the people that had once resided here. Gaia, as if she can read your mind, turns to light up fresh candles to replace the ones that have burned out while she was gone, and continues to tell you more about this place. “Back then, the Ancients—our ancestors—built these temples to worship their Gods and Goddesses, to pray for the sanctity of the realm and to pass down their wisdom. Unlike the humans in the mortal realm, the residents of the Far Far Away Land today no longer hold the same rites, and only a small few still worship the sources of their powers, while only using these temples to pray and wish for blessings from their ancestors. It has been that way since the Ancients who built this realm were long gone.”

Gaia returns to your side with a glass of wine—for healing, she had explained earlier when she first pointed out the decanter resting on the wooden shelf. “This place used to be where the Priests and Priestess would hold lectures and sermons to the people, spreading the knowledge about our Ancients and magic, and the history behind the creation of the realm.”

Gaia’s eyes turn towards the flickering candles, and then the small altar. “We still keep most of the scriptures that recounted the story of the Ancients, the history behind the realm, and the secrets of magic. Yet we no longer have as many as we used to. All that we have left are preserved in small chambers such as this one, hidden libraries and storages in various parts of this mountain temple.”

Your eyes follow her gaze to the scriptures on the altar, the chests lying beneath, and the shelf which is lined up with old books. You refuse to believe that this is all that was left of all the documented history that this place has to preserve, but before you can say anything, Gaia confirms it with sadness written in her gaze.

“Once, this land was seen and regarded as a sacred place, a holy land, yet this is all that was left behind over time.” A resigned sigh escapes her lips before she smiles grimly. “Now you understand why our young guards were uncompromising when it came to protecting this place.”

The smile that you give her feels just as grim. Your mouth feels bitter from her grievance, from the dark history shadowing this place, so you raise your glass to wash it all down. Your chest aches to think about what was lost. Recalling what you have learned after your visit to E’l Alora, you take a deep breath and question her, “Was it the war, that came to this land?”

Gaia grimly nods. “The Great Siege.”

Once the sun has set, and nightfall comes, Gaia invites you to witness the rite.

It is an offer that you cannot possibly refuse.

You follow Gaia through a different corridor—one that was yet again hidden in the stone wall—on the other side of her private chamber, emerging on one of the alcoves on the upper tier which you saw earlier. From here, you have the perfect view of the rite from above, the entire part of the temple is visible for you to experience the ceremony while remaining hidden from sight.

The temple has already fascinated you before, regardless of its vacancy and forlorn facade that you witnessed when you first entered the place.

Seeing the temple coming alive with the rite fascinates you even more; with worshippers and believers making use of this dark place. They arrive soon after dusk in various shades of cloaks and robes, candlelights flickering to eliminate the shadows and melodic chants of prayers bouncing against the dark stone walls.

Standing at the center of the raised dais is a priest in a white robe, with a few others standing on either side of him, all carrying candles in their hands while leading the prayers. The guards, including the two that you met earlier in the grove, are wearing dark robes over their armours as they line up below the dais, watching over the rite and helping out those who have arrived with offerings to place around the dais.

You watch with keen eyes as the rite continues. The people move like a steady current, in motion with the rhythm of the chanting prayers echoing through the temple. You watch in awe as they move in a practised gesture—the way they walk up in line to light up the candles around the dais before moving back to the nave, where they follow the motion by passing and exchanging candles between each other.

The way the flickering flames seem to be weaving through the people becomes such a captivating sight. The lights and flames spread across the temple until the entire hall comes alight—a symbol of life surviving in the dark, of the people who survived the darkness, and the story that has been written of their past, present, and future.

“Once, in the past, this holy land burned with life. Candles were lit up to celebrate life, to honour our blessings, and to pray for the Ancients that were watching over us from above,” Gaia speaks from beside you, her voice gentle and soft, almost as melodic as the prayers echoing down below. But then her voice turns grim as she speaks of the past, “And then they came, bringing in their deathly flames, and this city burned into ashes.”

You turn to look at Gaia as she suddenly laughs. A pained and bitter laugh that pierces through your chest.

“Well, most of them,” she adds with a wry smile, “This temple and the ruins you saw outside are what was left of this place. Decades, centuries worth of a civilization reduced to nothing more but skeletons of our homes, schools, temples, and everything that our elders had built for the sake of preserving the treasure of knowledge and faith left behind by the Ancients. The only thing that those flames failed to diminish was the spirit of our people.”

As she continues to speak, Gaia’s eyes light up. Her grief is soon replaced by hope. “These people,” she says, as she watches the people below, ”They may have lost their homes, the lands that they had spent generations cultivating for the benefit of our homeland, yet they continue to thrive through the pain of our dark past, surviving the best they can with all that we have left, even if it means that we all have to remain hidden in the shadows.”

“But where do these people live?” you ask, as you have been wondering ever since the first time you stepped foot in this place, “Where do you all live, when the city is no longer safe?”

“In places that our own homeland provides for us, just like how this temple came to be,” Gaia explains. “There are people who live within and in the heart of the mountains, in homes that were built in the stone walls, and even under the dry, rocky peaks spread across the land. It may not be much, compared to what we used to have just decades ago, yet we have found our solitude in enclosed spaces such as this temple that protects us all.”

Down below, the rite continues. The movement of the candles has gone slower, and so are the chants recited by the priests and priestesses leading the ceremony. There are only a small amount of offerings laid on the dais, but there are so many candles to make up for what is lacking.

“After the war, the only times that our candles were lit were to hold vigils and prayers for the Ancients to liberate us from our suffering,” Gaia continues as you watch the priests and priestesses leaving the raised dais, slowly making their way to the center of the temple where the pool of water is present. “Now, we light our candles to reflect, to pay homage to those who sacrificed their lives to protect what now remains of our home, and to remember our dark history so we can replace our pain with new hope.”

The movements within the temple shift. This time, the guards in their dark robes are the ones to make their move, weaving through the believers with the silver chalices filled with wine in their hands. Carefully, the guards pass the chalices to the people, who then each take a drink from them before passing them over to the next in line.

Gaia gently explains that the drinking of wine symbolises living for the future, to drink for the dead and the forgotten ancestors while celebrating the old life that they have lost.

Your eyes move to the pool of water, realising only now that the full moon—which appears through the opening above the temple—is reflected perfectly on the surface of the water.

The leaders of the ceremony move to stand around the pool to sing their prayers, joined in by their followers who are lining behind them in the nave. At the end of the rite, the priests and priestesses retreat to the back of the temple, while the worshippers step forward to take their place.

One by one, the people come down to their knees to pray to the moon’s reflection in the water, before finally releasing the small candles that they have been holding into the pool, allowing them to float around the image of the bright moon.

“To the sky, we pray for the future. To the land, we pray for the dead. To the water, we pass our wishes to the moon, hoping that it will one day pass down to us its blessings, the same way it once did to the Ancients who walked on this realm.”

You continue to watch as this ritual continues, allowing every single worshipper to do their part of the ceremony until they dwindle into small groups of people praying beyond the dais. You have become so enthralled by the scene that you barely notice that Gaia has left your side until she returns.

“Don’t you think it’s time for you to go home?” she asks, snapping you out of your daze. As you turn to her, Gaia hands you a folded cloth—a dark robe—something which she says may help you blend in with the remaining groups of people below so you can safely slip away from the temple.

You are still in such a daze after witnessing the rite—something that feels so divine and sacred that it gives you a sense of peace and grief at the same time—that it doesn’t register to you the fact that the priestess seems to have knowledge of your time limit until much later. You simply listen to her instructions on how to reach the ground level—back to where your exit is located—as you put on the robe, covering your appearance as much as you can to avoid gaining unwanted attention.

“Our home is open to travellers like yourself, should you ever decide to return and find some interest to learn more about us,” Gaia adds right before you go. “Regardless of what Gen and Edmund said earlier, this place isn’t as closed off or forbidden as it was made to be. We have closed our borders, but some of us believe that it would only be right to maintain the faith that our elders once had about opening our doors to other believers.”

In her gaze, the same hope you saw lights up the same way the candlelights below are still burning brightly. “The longer we are hidden from the world, the more we will be forgotten. And the knowledge of the past that we have spent centuries protecting will one day be lost in time, exactly what our enemies had once aimed towards when they brought their flames to our home.”

Just as Gaia is about to send you off down the stone steps, she reaches out to grab your hands, holding them gently in hers. “Promise me that you’ll return one day. That you’ll never forget about us,” she calmly asks while holding her pleading gaze on yours. Your body stiffens when you feel her passing something into your palm, and you instinctively wrap your palm around it firmly to keep it from falling.

“I promise. I’ll return one day, hopefully in better circumstances than the present,” you promise her with a smile, not bothering to say something as you accept the small token that she has given you and slip it into your pocket without looking. You keep your gaze steady on hers as you whisper, “Thank you.”

As you slip through the worshippers who are still deep in their prayers, making your way to the back of the dais to find the hidden portal door, you suddenly feel the heat of a gaze following your movement. Cautiously, you turn to look over your shoulder, expecting to see the familiar glare from the guard that you fought previously tracking your escape.

But what is looking back at you isn’t at all human.

Perched atop the bannister on the upper floor, you see the magnificent-looking black-winged hawk that had appeared during your fight earlier. With its wings pulled back, its eyes are wide open, glaring at you attentively as if it is keeping watch at your departure. Staring back at it, the animal’s gaze feels menacing and comforting at the same time, yet something deep inside is telling you that the hawk is there without any malicious intent. It is simply there to watch you, to see you go, and it remains in its position when you turn away, slipping under the banner and into the magic portal to return home.

As the wave of magic taking you away from the sacred land ripples through the space around you, the hawk flaps its wings and rises from its perch, making its own way back home to where it came from.

Emburn Empire has come alive tonight.

The full moon looks bright in the night sky, casting a divine glow into the land.

The imperial palace and its Moon Temple look radiant under the night sky, the white walls and pillars made up of Clayntine Stone reflecting the moonlight glow so perfectly that they glimmer like magic crystals.

Within the walls of the Moon Temple of Aone, candlelights flicker and burn, casting a golden glow across the praying hall. Both inside and on the outer grounds of the moon temple, the people of Emburn have come and gathered to witness the rite. From above, the candlelights appear like an ocean of living inferno—the ocean of hope, as the Royal Priests would call it.

Ever since he was a young boy, Yoongi has always enjoyed the Runea Luna Eve, the night of the full moon, when the rite is held to celebrate and pay homage to the Ancients who had built the land of Emburn. Tonight, however, he is too restless to enjoy the celebration, feeling too disconnected to even pay attention to the ceremony unfolding right in front of him.

The Moon Temple of Aone is full tonight; the commoners are taking up the space below, while the nobles and royals claim the seats on the upper tiers and the mezzanine floors. Many carry their own candles in their hands as a symbol of their hope, but all have their eyes set on the front of the raised dais at the head of the temple, where the Royal High Priest is giving his sermon and leading the prayers.

Two identical thrones sit on the center of the raised dais. The Empress of Emburn, Empress Ariane, sits on one of them, while the one beside her is left empty in the absence of the ailing Emperor. Behind her, two rows of long benches are set to accommodate the members of the Royal Priesthood on one side, while the Royal Aides who are present to show support for the Empress fill the other side.

The Crown Prince sits on the balcony on the top left of the dais, together with the highest nobles and the royal guests who were invited to witness the ceremony. Including the royal guests that Yoongi is currently—and quite reluctantly—hosting in place of the Empress; Byron Koshar, the new Emperor of the Neo Empire of Kosha, and his second daughter, Princess Celestyna.

“You’ll have to keep the Princess company during the rite tonight. Treat her well, be polite about it, and make her feel welcome,” was the warning that Empress Ariane had given Yoongi earlier today during the preparation for the rite. “You need to build a positive relationship with the Kosha Empire to gain support for your future.”

“Must I take up the responsibility for your guests, Mother? There are tons of nobles here that would be more suitable and willing to be their hosts.”

At Yoongi’s complaint, the Empress turned and glared. Obviously displeased that her son is unwilling to do her bidding. “Those nobles aren’t the ones who are going to take the throne now, are they?” she scolded him then with a sharp tone of voice that made him wince. “Do this for the Empire, for the Emperor, and for your position on the throne.”

Yoongi had chosen not to argue, realising that there was no way he could win against Empress Ariane once she made the decree.

He isn’t even sure why it would be necessary for him to gain support from Kosha Empire. It’s not like there will be anyone to contest his position for the throne once the time comes. And it’s not like he’s eager to take the crown so prematurely, with the Emperor still living and breathing and capable enough to continue ruling, and while he is still in the process of courting his future Empress.

Even if there are parties of nobles or royal blood who would dare to challenge his position on the throne, Yoongi cannot possibly see how being ‘good friends’ with the second Princess would give him the advantage to refute the challenge. He feels bitter to think that the Empress may have any intention of arranging some forming of an alliance by matching them together.

Marriage arrangements made to gain favour from a strong ally are not unheard of, but it isn’t something that Yoongi would be willing to partake in. Not even at the risk of losing his position on the throne.

And he cannot possibly agree with such an arrangement when he already has someone who was chosen for him since the day he was born.

Yoongi holds back an exasperated groan and looks up at the exposed dome ceiling above. Through the see-through ceiling made up of Shadow Crystal, the full moon is clearly visible, illuminating the temple’s hall with its glow.

Keeping his eyes on the moon helps him detach himself from the present. His restless mind is so quick to wander, filled with the thoughts of you. He wonders where you might be spending your evening, and if you are looking up at the moon the way he is doing now. He also wonders if you are safe, wherever you are.

“…as we send our gratitude to the moon, tonight, we remember our great ancestor, the Fairy King Aone, the Ancient Hunter who had borrowed the magic from the moon to build Emburn from the ashes and has continued to bring prosperity to the people…”

The Royal High Priest’s voice echoes through the grand hall, pulling Yoongi’s attention back to the ceremony that is slowly coming to an end.

Back in the past, the sermons and praises for the Ancient Hunter would have been followed by a sacrament which lasted for the entire night, beginning from nightfall to the coming of dawn, filled with chantings of prayers for the ancestors, the Ancients, and the moon.

In the present time, the ritual will be followed with festivities. A night of celebration where the people will pour into the streets to sing and dance and drink as much wine as their minds and bodies would allow until the dawn comes.

Once Yoongi has his attention on the raised dais, his eyes flickering towards the altar and the statue of the Ancient Hunter standing in the center, he feels something pulling at him. A pulse. A shot of magic calling for his attention, and it seems to be coming from the ground floor of the temple.

Yoongi looks across the grand hall as a dark figure slips out from behind one of the white pillars, wearing a black robe with its hood raised over his head, hiding his face and features from prying eyes.

Sensing Yoongi’s eyes on him, the person lifts his head, meeting Yoongi’s gaze with his own from the distance, revealing himself to be none other than Yoongi’s best friend and right-hand man.

Yijeong.

Upon meeting Yoongi’s gaze, Yijeong nods once. A subtle gesture that the busy worshippers around him will surely miss. But the one gesture is enough for the Crown Prince. The message has been delivered and received.

She’s home safe.

With a gesture that is just as subtle, Yoongi responds with a slight tilt of his head and then leans back into his seat. The anxiety which has been weighing on him since the moment he felt the ripple of magic—the omen signifying that a portal has been opened—is soon lifted.

His job done, Yijeong steps back into the shadow, drifting out of the crowd of people and out of the moon temple just as the Royal High Priest ends his sermon. The air immediately shifts as the Royal Priests step away from the altar. One by one, the people begin to disperse—some making time to walk up to the altar and the dais to leave their candles and bow to the Empress, while others walk out towards the nearest stream to release their candles and let them drift along with the flowing water, hoping that they would bring their wishes back to the land that they are worshipping or wherever the stream of Marble Falls and the Armere River will take them.

In the absence of the Royal Priests’ sermons and prayers, the sound of music begins, carrying on with the evening breeze like a draft, a sign for the festivities celebrating the full moon and the birth of the Ancient Hunter to begin.

Yoongi looks over to the throne as Empress Ariane rises from her seat, throwing a barely-there glance towards the balcony, straight where the Crown Prince and his guest—his date for the night, if that is what the Empress has in mind—are sitting in.

The bitterness that he felt earlier returns when he meets the Empress’ gaze. He knows that she isn’t turning to see if the Crown Prince—her son—is having a blast during the ceremony. He knows that the Empress is simply checking to see if he is doing his duty as the perfect host for the people that he wants absolutely nothing to do with.

Yoongi keeps his eyes on his mother until she steps away, leaving the temple through the rear exit which leads towards the royal drawing room, the priests and priestesses and her royal aides trailing right behind. Yoongi nearly shoves himself out of his seat as he rises, ready—perhaps too eager—to end his night and return to the palace.

Just as Yoongi is about to turn and bid his farewell to the Emperor of Kosha—who has been busy chatting with a noble from the city called Mosshaven, the city of merchants at the south end of Emburn—and the other nobles who have been there with him, Princess Celestyna speaks first.

“Leaving so soon, Your Highness? Must you really leave now?” she asks. Her tone is gentle and polite, yet it demands attention, the kind that would have put young men to their knees, bending over backwards to please her. “The festivities are only beginning. Wouldn’t the people look forward to having their Crown Prince be a part of it?”

Yoongi forces a smile. For the past few days, Yoongi has been confined in the palace under the Empress’ orders to host the royal guests. Primarily, the second princess. And for the past few days, he was forced to ignore the ripples of magic calling for him, beckoning him to see you, all due to the princess always getting in the way, always inquiring for his company at the same exact time he wished to rush to your side instead.

Always with mundane things that Yoongi would have preferred to avoid, to rather deal with important matters instead of wasting it with an afternoon stroll through the royal gardens, or have tea and biscuits by the Emerald Lake, or have him escorting her through the various estates in the Imperial Palace’s territory and help her learn about the arts and culture of Emburn.

The fact is, he has grown tired of it. He has wasted too much precious time which he could have spent with you.

Even looking at the Princess makes him feel exhausted and weary. At least, tonight, he can use the festivities as an excuse to find some semblance of freedom. To untangle himself from the responsibility that has been forced on him.

“I’m sure the people will be able to have fun without me being there,” Yoongi smoothly says, “There are other members of the royal family who will be joining the festivities and would no doubt feel honoured to keep you company. I’m sure they’ll be better party companions than I would.”

Princess Celestyna’s face pinches with displeasure—a look which reminds Yoongi too much of his mother which, undeniably, the only reminder that the Empress is indeed distantly related to the royal family of Kosha—yet she is quick to conceal it with a thin smile. The same practised smile that she has been wearing each time she was in the company of the Empress, Yoongi took notice.

“Well, I was expecting that we could perhaps share the first dance during the celebration. This is my first time joining such a grand event, after all, and I heard a member of the royal family has always been the one to start the dancing,” she says with a deliberate tone that is meant to seduce, to allure, while she leans slightly forward to get closer to Yoongi.

Close enough for Yoongi to smell the scent of the perfume that she had pasted around her collarbone and between her breasts. A strong, sultry scent of orchid with a hint of spiciness to it. Yoongi prefers something sweet, subtle and fresh. Something that reminds him of you.

There is also something about the gesture and the way she speaks which seems off to him. Unconvincing and completely unfitting to be something that a person of her character would do. It feels too deliberate. Too hollow and viscous. As if she had practised this act one too many times before she was made to face Yoongi.

A shiver runs through him. The unsettling kind which takes an effort for him to hide.

Pressing his lips, Yoongi tries to reel his annoyance from surfacing. This isn’t the first time that Princess Celestyna has brought up her request to have Yoongi stay by her side for the evening’s events and share a dance with her. The only problem with this offer would be the fact that if Yoongi ever plans on attending the festival, as per tradition, having her as his dance partner and showing her to his people would make everyone think that she is the one he is courting to be the future consort or the next Empress of Emburn.

There is no possible way that he would risk something like this. Not when he already has someone else in mind to introduce to his people.

“Unfortunately, I do have other business to attend to, and I promise that I wouldn’t be able to act as the perfect company or host for Your Highness the Princess tonight if I am to have my focus wandering towards other matters and not be present,” Yoongi reasons with the Princess, using the same words that he used the previous times Princess Celestyna kept trying to convince Yoongi to spend the evening with her.

Yoongi is quite sure that his refusal will no doubt reach the Empress, and there might be chances for him to receive the brunt of the Empress’ ire once he comes face to face with his mother again. Princess Celestyna should know this too, judging from the way her gaze sharpens, and how she is quick to make him another offer before Yoongi can slip away.

“Then you must make it up by sparing your time with me in the afternoon tomorrow,” she urgently asks him with one of her dainty hands placed on Yoongi’s arm, merely inches above his elbow. “Perhaps we can have tea in the Royal Garden once you are done with your duties?”

Yoongi bites back the words of refusal that nearly slip out the moment she speaks. It is an offer that is not quite an open invitation. More like a challenge, a subtle threat, as Yoongi can sense a finality in her words. He can almost hear the words unspoken from her gaze—give me this, or I’ll go to the Empress and make things harder for you.

A resigned sigh slips out of him as Yoongi realises that he has no choice but to play along. At least for now. Only until he can find the chance or an excuse to escape from the second Princess.

His nod is stiff when Yoongi reluctantly accepts her deal. “One of my attendants will come for you in the afternoon once I have tea prepared in the gardens.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Princess Celestyna says with a smile on her face, mirth dancing in her eyes as she finally gets her wish. “I shall be waiting for the good news.”

Bowing towards the Princess, and then to her silent father, the Emperor of Kosha, Yoongi bids his farewell for the night and quickly turns to walk away before any word can be thrown to trample his escape. The long tail of his black coat flares behind him as he walks out of the balcony seats in rapid footsteps.

His hand finds its way to his upper arm as he walks down the stairs, making his exit through the vacant service hall in the back of the temple. He keeps rubbing the skin from over the thick sleeve of his coat to brush away the lingering feeling of the Princess’ hand, wishing it to be your touch instead.

As he makes his way out of the Moon Temple of Aone, Yoongi silently makes up his mind, promising himself that at the next full moon ceremony, he will make sure that he only has you standing by his side.

For your hand to be the only one he would ask for the first dance the next time he joins the Runea Luna Eve.

That day will come, he tells himself. A promise. Soon.

⟶ Author’s note | thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this one, please leave a like/kudo and help reblog the fic to share it with others to enjoy. Any form of feedback is welcome!

#yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #k-vanity #bangtanwhq #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #suga scenario #suga smut #suga angst #suga fluff #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts x reader

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selyeji · 6 months ago

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for lovers

pedri gonzalez x reader

summary : inspired by “for lovers” album by lamp, the drift of two young lovers intertwined by the sea.

warnings : angst if you squint

for lovers…

as each season goes by, the scenery changes, the landscape melts away, yet you still only think of him. pedri, your childhood best friend, your lover. both of you went to the same school, thus leading to you meeting him. you two instantly clicked like two puzzle pieces, inseparable from each other. months since then, both of you were close to each others family. you often hung out in their house, tutoring pedri with schoolwork, helping around the restaurant, chatting with fer.

you were always aware of your feelings for him, suddenly you looked at him differently. simple words, touches, eye contact changed to metaphors and symbolism of longing for a deeper relationship. it wasn’t until you were both 16 when he confessed his feelings for you.

you have always supported him, his signing with las palmas, you always went to his matches. always there if he needed someone whether it was to talk to or a comfortable silent cuddle. your family’s supported your relationship with each other. seeing each other grow up knowing feelings with bloom in aswell.

as you stand on the shore alone, the waves were quiet but heard, sounds of birds chirping, rays of sun. you admired the view but can’t help think of pedri in this warmth, reminding you of your youthful love in summer. you smiled as you continue walking, the rocks and sand creating a sound as you took each step. pedri was still not taken off your mind.

spreading tears…

the rain trickles down, the water droplets on the window slowly fall off. the end of summer approaches, turning the blue sky into a darker shade. you always liked the rain and cold weathers, it reminded you of memories with pedri.

a memory when you were kids, the town was quiet, people stayed inside their houses. he waited outside yours, insisting on you playing with him in the rain. you were always scared of getting sick but he assured you it will be fine. “let’s go y/n! i promise it’s safe. if you ever get sick i’ll help take care of you!” he yelled. cheeks turned red, not wanting to leave him disappointed, you quickly grabbed your boots and coat and wore them. asking permission before going out, your mother approved and you ran to the door. opening it, pedri immediately smiled and ran. “hey wait for me!” you yelled at him, chasing him. playing around, getting wet in the rain, dirt spread as you played in the puddles. both your giggles could be heard by the entire town.

the moment is engraved in your memory. it was beautiful, filled with happiness despite the rain and gloomy clouds. you’ll miss these memories, with pedri’s new signing at barcelona, you were so happy for him. you knew communication would be hard until he mentions he wanted you to move to barcelona with him. immediately agreeing, your parents wouldn’t mind as long as you continued your studies in the city.

the small quiet town filled with emotions and memories, you were soon about to leave with your lover. although you were excited, you couldn’t help but feel melancholy for the small town you leave behind. the end of a season in the quiet village you grew up in.

last train at 25’ o’clock…

the final train for the night left, leaving the two of you in silence on the platform. under the starry night sky, you and pedri walked around the streets of barcelona. the winter coldness and temperatures made blood rise up to your cheeks. holding hands in one of your pockets, sharing your body warmth. a trail of white mist leaves your mouth as you sigh, relaxing your body.

the vast city lights stretched across the street. looking at the stars above, resting your head on pedri’s shoulder. enjoying the moment as youngsters before your partners fame rises, becoming their golden boy. you both run into the night, intertwining hands, despite it being silent, it was comfortable. feeling each others presence, accompanied by the clock showing 1:00 in the morning.

the gentle gust of wind hits your faces, slightly drying your lips as you both smile, two youngins enjoying the time of their life. hearts following the beat of music in the earphones you share.

out on a sunny day…

pedri always invited you to his games, you always went whenever you could. your schedule with uni and studying filled your calendar. his was too, matches, training, socializing with his club, it was too much. too much that both of you couldn’t even spend time with one another.

it was the 4th time in a row pedri came home late, hours after his training ended. the moonlight rays glow to your window, your silhouette still as you sat on the couch with the clock ticking waiting for pedri. door unlocking, keys shuffling echoed through the silence, you immediately glance to the entrance. he didn’t even bother to greet you, nor to look you in the eye. “where have you been” you spoke up.

“out.” he said coldly, not a single concern nor effort in his voice. “seriously pedri, i’ve been worried for these past days. i wait for you making sure the food is still warm once you arrive.” he snapped “its not that serious y/n. im just out here trying to live the best out of my young years, i want to go out and have fun, yet you’re here just limiting me from it! god when will you just leave me alone.” he yelled. you couldn’t even reply, standing there quietly as tears start gather.

the silence truly killed you softly, it felt like your throat was stuck. your thoughts started building up, anxiety rising. ‘have fun?’ perhaps he started going out to clubs, was he seeing other girls? no that couldn’t be. he wasn’t the pedri you knew, he wasn’t the pedro you fell in love with. you knew this was goodbye. “this isn’t working out anymore, this isn’t for the best. if we stay together it will only get worse amor. please just… leave by tomorrow morning pedro.” you said, couldn’t help calling him your love one last time.

days has passed, your apartment couldn’t have been more empty than before. it felt the duvet folds of your blanket have melted onto you, you were unable to leave your bed. you often forgot to eat, even drink water. only getting up to use the restroom. you only found comfort in your state of depression. you couldn’t cry, therefore you couldn’t sleep. you stared at the ceiling, wondering if you could even forget about him. aimless sundays without his presence is a routine you’ll have to adjust to. a step to moving forward.

tomorrow comes i will…

its this familiar scene you see once again, too familiar with it in fact. as people walked to not get wet by the shore, memories flooded in as you remain standing. the children’s giggles reminded you of the soft moments on this exact sand.

…

you were both 16, sat on the beach in the ashen sky. chattering going back and forth about your daily lives. until he asks a question, the conversation deepening, your heart races. “well… are you interested in someone?” you blankly stared forward. your choices whether to ruin your friendship completely or to never tell him your true feelings. you quietly turned your head sideways to face him with blush all over your cheeks.

the wind playfully messed your hair, slightly covering your face. pedri pulls his hand out, caressing the strand behind your ear. his dark brown eyes meeting yours as his hand moves from your ear to your cheek and jawline. caressing your face with his thumb, he slowly moves his face closer to yours.

your lips meets, grazing each other. your eyes close, the time felt slow, you felt like you were on cloud 9. you couldn’t care for anything else but his lips on yours. it felt the world around you just stopped, revolving around you, the flavor of your lipbalm could be tasted. you lips separate, eyes meeting each other before bursting into soft giggles. butterflies in your stomach. foreheads resting on each other, sharing warmth.

…

soft brushes of the wind grazes your cheek, replacing his hand. you remain in this nameless season, emptiness felt as you felt your own heartbeat and footsteps in the sand. you wanted to hear his voice that gave comfort in your heart, reassurance and love. all alone in the distant sea.

the wind will surely reach your city, barcelona.

rain tapestry…

the windowpane beside you starts to build up fog. the cold weather and grey sky throughout the city. yet you were warm, you found comfort and your body heats up, blushing because of a guy you recently met. he was your perfect match, similar interests, kind, respectful, any positive trait you could think of.

it felt like you were 17 again, with pedri when your love for him grew despite the obscure rain. during these days you would stay home, cuddle under the sheets as your bodies melt into each other. you were always a fan of literature, books stacked on the shelf, multiple annotations wrote.

pedri laid in your chest as you read the book on your hand, swiftly turning pages. occasionally taking a sip of your coffee. you notice snoring could be heard, checking on pedri if he fell asleep. his were eyes closed, his long lashes noticeable, his cheeks pink, hair messed up. you took your hand out, slowly scratching his scalp. he seemed to notice and moved closer to your upper chest. slowly he began relaxing, his arms hugging your sides. you blushed knowing he’s yours.

well, was. you sat on the table in a cafe, writing poetry and your thoughts. it helped you express yourself through hard times lately. your feelings were validated as you write down, despite wanting to move on from your previous relationship.

you hoped pedri knew each page of poetry was for him, love eternally living in those words.

words of love…

pedri looked out his balcony, the curtains softly swayed along the wind. the winter night was quiet, it wasn’t the same without you. he longed for a melancholic relationship with genuine feelings, those one-night stands never filled that void, girls only seemed to be interested in him because he was a footballer.

he always wondered what would happen now if he never left, if he wasn’t so stubborn, if only he didn’t keep his pride and ego so high. around this time of night you would’ve been in his room, whispering his words of love to you. slowly dancing with you, moving along the rhythm of the music, talking about the day that has passed by.

the adjustment of moving cities have went smoothly. pedri bonded well with the team while you were able to find a scholarship. life was perfect as your love for each other only seemed to bloom even more.

he often took you out for dinner, wanting to spend more time to talk to you, hear your voice and laughter. exchange words that burned each other heart. holding hands on the table, maintaining eye contact with one another as you spoke.

now sat at the balcony, leaning his head on the window as he pondered about this romance. closing his instagram filled with dms of models around the world. he couldn’t make himself reply to any of them. all of those messages filled with lust despite all he yearned was a romantic love. he lost the only person who could understand him, touch him with the intention of reassurance.

behind the moon shadow…

back in tenerife beach, the moon reflected on the waves of water. the bygone feelings of the past innocent and idealistic relationship. words of love now stored in a seashell, the memories now buried under the sandy beach. date when we sat under the moon, above the sand, sleeping on each others shoulder.

stardust scattered across the sky of barcelona, pedri wish he was stuck in the past. the waves would wet your arms as you two played in the beach. every happy memory plays as he sat outside, avoiding people from the party. he stares at the moon, the same moon you stare at. perhaps the moon will tell the tale of us once so smitten, drifting apart.

a/n : first fic made it out of boredom,,, live laugh love lamp

#pedri #pedri x reader #pedri x you #pedri x y/n #pedri gonzalez x reader #football x reader #football x you #footballer x reader #pedri imagine #football imagine #football x y/n

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milesluna · 11 months ago

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My Favorite Games of 2023.

Hi. Hello. Thanks ever so much for clicking on this page. Happy to have you.

First thing's first: I'm a little freak when it comes to video games. I don't feel the need to beat most games I play. From Software is one of my favorite studios in the industry and I've never finished a single one of their games. This means, fortunately, that I get to play a LOT more games than the average bear.

I've written up some blurbs about my top ten favorite games from 2023, but before that here's the list of every game I remember playing this year that left any sort of lasting impact on me (in no particular order):

Dead Space Remake Resident Evil 4 Remake F-Zero 99 Humanity Dredge Metroid Prime Remastered Anemoiaplois Alan Wake 2 Baldur’s Gate 3 LoZ Tears of the Kingdom Counter Strike 2 Hunt Showdown El Paso Elsewhere Jusant Slay the Princess| Remnant II The Finals Street FIghter 6 Lethal Company BattleBit Remastered Don’t Scream Homebody The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog Pizza Tower World of Horror Super Mario Wonder Mr. Sun’s Hatbox Fifa 23 Sea of Stars (Demo) Half-Life (25th Anniversary Update)

And the games I played that were NOT released in 2023:

Unpacking Persona 4 Golden Picross 7 The Order 1886 Shovel Knight Dig Lost Planet: Extreme Condition Spider-Man: Miles Morales Pac-Man Championship Edition DX Project Zomboid Quake LoZ The Minish Cap Drill Dozer Wario Land 4 Pokemon Pinball Resident Evil Revelations Summer of ‘58 Trackmania TwinCop We Were Here Visage Cursed Halo CE Half-Life 2 (I probably play this once per year) Witch Hunt Red Dead Redemption 2 Cyberpunk 2077 Borderlands 3 Brutal Legend Cultic Slay the Spire PUBG Rez Infinite Batman Arkham City Alan Wake Alan Wake: American Nightmare Max Payne LoZ: Majora’s Mask 3DS Metroid Prime Metroid Prime 2 Tunic Everhood Final Fantasy VII Final Fantasy VII Remake GOODBYE WORLD Yakuza: Like a Dragon Critters for Sale Dome Keeper Phasmophobia Hades Nintendo Switch Sports

Now that you understand the kind of freak you're dealing with…

Let's dive into my top ten favorite games from this objectively fucked up year.

10. El Paso Elsewhere Developed by Texas indie studio Strange Scaffold, El Paso Elsewhere is a Max Payne-clone with vampires, an opinionated narrator, and lots and lots of bullet time. As a small studio punching well above their weight class, Strange Scaffold leans into abstract, PlayStation 1 minimalism when it comes to visuals and pairs them with a soundtrack that will make your hands sweat. The vibes are here and they're ready for the end of the world. I'm personally also a big fan of everything this studio stands for.

9. Mr. Sun's Hatbox I want you to imagine Metal Gear Solid V. Now I want you to imagine that game as a 2D, level-based, slapstick platformer you can play with up to three friends. If you think that sounds stupid, you'd be right. And it's beautiful. As you build up a secret army of soldiers with various skills (and disorders), you'll start to develop *favorites*. This game constantly asks if you're willing to send those favorites on a harrowing mission and risk losing them forever… or if you'd rather send an idiot you recently captured who blinks constantly and can't kill anyone without fainting.

8. Dredge Every year I feel like I find one game that falls into the “just one more round” category, and baby… Dredge was it for 2023. As a weary fisherman in strange waters, you'll make the most out of your 12 measly hours of sunlight only for your daily voyages to inevitably pull you into the darkness of night, and night is when things get weird. Rocks emerge from the fog that you swear weren't there before, your equipment malfunctions, and you're pretty sure you just saw something in the water… something big. Despite only containing a small collection of islands, the world of Dredge manages to feel vast - perhaps vast enough to swallow you whole.

7. Resident Evil 4 Remake I was curious to see what sort of changes would be made to the timeless classic and father of modern 3rd person shooters, Resident Evil 4. I wasn't let down. RE4 Remake takes all the things that didn't age well about the original, tossed them out, and replaced them with only good things. And MORE things! It's campy, fun, and better than a game of bingo.

6. Jusant I really feel like this one didn't get the recognition it deserves. Jusant is a rock climbing game that combines the quiet contemplation of Journey with the mechanical specificity of Death Stranding. Unlike Death Standing, though, there is very little story to interrupt your flow. There are plenty of collectible bits to find for those curious to learn more about what happened before the events of the game, but the environmental storytelling does most of the heavy lifting. For me, the joy of the game comes from how it feels. Right trigger controls your right hand grip, and left trigger controls left hand grip. Plan your route, manage your stamina, and climb high above the clouds in search of answers.

5. F-Zero 99 This. Shit. Slaps. I've never been a big F-Zero guy, but this MADE me one. The “battle royale”, 99 player format is the perfect fit for the ruthless, high octane world of the game. Races last about three minutes, and friend, they are the most intense, white-knuckled three minutes of your life. The decision to make your boost meter the same as your health meter started in F-Zero 64 (I believe), and it is so much more HARROWING in this game when another player could side-swipe you mere meters from the finish line and blow you to bits. Sadly it's only playable via Switch Online, but it made me cheer, laugh, and scream enough this year to earn a spot in my top 5.

4. Alan Wake 2 Remedy makes weird games that also manage to exist in the AAA space and for that I will forever love them. Although Alan Wake 2 resembles a 3rd person shooter survival horror, I'd honestly say it's more of a narrative game than anything else. There's sidequests, there's puzzles, there's upgradeable skills, but at the end of the day the characters, world, and story are what kept me playing. If you haven't checked them out recently, you should definitely watch a story recap of the original games before diving into this sequel, but the wild swings for the fences this game takes are well worth that small price of admission. There's a god damn musical number, for Christ's sake.

3. The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom I've really got nothing to say about this game that most people don't already know. It's incredible. The fact that Nintendo made a game that redefined an entire genre and then made a SEQUEL to it that ups the ante is remarkable. To be honest, I've only cleared the Rito, Zora, and Goron cities. I got a bit tired of exploring the depths and guiding Koroks to their friends, but I can't deny the sheer level of complexity and polish on display here. I saw someone on TikTok build a functioning Mecha Godzilla in this game. Good God. I've heard that the ending of this game is one of the best in the franchise, and if I'd seen it this year then it may have wound up higher on my list, but for the time being I'll continue picking up this masterpiece from time to time, chipping away at it until the day comes that I can finally smack the tits off thicc Ganondorf.

2. Half-Life (25th Anniversary Update) I know I'm gonna get shit for this, but I don't care. This year was the 25th anniversary of Half-Life and Valve released an update that made playing it (and it's online Death Match) much more accessible. I threw it on my Steam Deck out of curiosity, expecting to play for 20 minutes. I could not put it down. It is unbelievable how modern this game still feels. I simply had so much fun sprinting through the corridors of Black Mesa with a dozen weapons strapped to my back, blasting aliens and military Spec-Op chumps as a 24(?!) year old theoretical physicist.

1. Baldur's Gate III This game is fucked up, man. The sheer amount of writing in this game scares me. We can all talk about how BIG this game is, it deserves it, but the thing BG3 does better than any other role playing game I have ever experienced is actually encourage roleplaying. I've played through Act I four times now, with four different groups of friends, and it has felt fresh every time. I have seen the same events play out in so many different ways that it boggles the mind, but in every one of those play sessions I see players asking themselves “What would my lil guy do here?” rather than "what is the best thing to do here?" The game rewards players constantly for just trying shit and the D&D 5e rule set means playing like the character you said you were from the start leads to frequent Points of Inspiration. Maybe one day I'll see the end of this story (probably not), but I don't have to in order to feel a connection with BG3's world, characters, and most impressively, the characters I made myself.

Honorable Mentions for 2023

5. Dave the Diver 4. Homebody 3. Sea of Stars 2. Humanity 1. Super Mario Wonder

Top 5 Favorites NOT from 2023

5. Metroid Prime 4. Final Fantasy VII Remake 3. Cursed Halo (Halo CE Mod) 2. Red Dead Redemption 2 1. Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask (3DS)

Games I didn't have a chance to play from 2023 but still want to when I find more time...

Viewfinder Venba Chants of Sennaar Thirsty Suitors Hi-Fi Rush Moonring Armored Core VI Laika Aged Through Blood Bomb Rush Cyberfunk

OKAY THANKS BYE!

#video games #2023 #GOTY

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a-sin-to-be-rin · 1 month ago

Text

Children Shouldn't Gamble With Dead Things (Part 1)

When Bruce warned Dick about Two-Face, he set one inflexible rule:

Don’t make deals with the devil.

But with stakes this high, Dick has to do something. So here he is, flipping a coin with Harvey Dent.

Part 2

Part 3

---

“Rock-a-bye, baby, in the treetops.”

The bundles fly into the air, pastel blue fluttering across the inky black above the Gotham skyline.

“Dear god, NO!!” a woman screams.

“When the wind blows, the cradle will rock.”

One blanket soars over the rooftop. The other falls over the edge, plummeting towards the road below.

“NO!!” Without another thought, Robin dives off the roof, grappling hook in hand. He doesn't wait for Batman. He can't. There's no time.

“When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall-”

The air rushes past his ears, heart fighting his lungs. He falls closer, closer-

Got him!

Robin feels the grapple line pull taut as his arms tighten around the precious bundle. He swings his feet, disengaging the hook and landing on the ledge of a lower roof. For a moment, he clutches the baby to his chest, heart still racing. Then he takes a breath and looks down.

“Don't worry. You're safe n- What?”

“Mah-ma,” the baby intones robotically. Then it blows a cloud of gas in Robin’s face.

Robin coughs, wheezing and choking on false air. He can't breathe. He can't breathe-

And then he collapses to the ground, dropping the baby doll.

“And down will come baby, cradle and all.”

---

“Wakey, wakey.”

“C’mon. Yer holdin’ up the show.”

Dick’s vision returns slowly, the figures in front of him blurry and faded. He has to blink a few times to make out the faces clearly, but even then, Dick is still seeing double.

“Hey, kid,” the face on the right says.

“Welcome back,” an identical face on the left greets. He smiles warmly, like he’s genuinely glad to see Dick.

“What possessed him?” It's a new voice, crawling and oozing and gravelly. The man - the twins - step aside to reveal Two-Face, in all his scaly, dichotomous glory.

“Huh?” Dick glances down. He’s wearing his gear - Robin is wearing Robin’s gear - and the twins are holding him upright. His hands are bound behind his back, but his legs are left free.

“You were the only choice for a comrade-in-arms?” Two-Face reiterates.

Robin scowls. Straightens. “I was the best choice.”

Two-Face lets out a cackle, garbled and phlegmy and muffled in the back of his throat. It makes Robin’s skin crawl.

“Defiant to the end,” Two-Face scoffs. “I like it.” He reaches behind him, pulling back red velvet curtains. “But let’s see how you deal with this. The fate of your big, scary buddy.”

The sight from behind the curtains makes Robin feel nauseous.

“It’s a gallows,” Two-Face explains, like Robin is some dumb kid who doesn’t know anything about traditional forms of public execution. “Custom, of course. Built for twofers. Two necks stretch at once.”

Robin pays attention because Batman taught him better than to ignore a man holding a gun, but only barely. The gallows would be fine - unnoteable, really - if not for the two men tied to it. Their hands are bound, necks looped with the foreboding spirals of a noose. Bags cover both of their heads, but the clothes of one man in particular are a dead giveaway for his identity.

“There are twelve steps, of course.” Two-Face is still rambling, going over every specification of his custom murder machine. Robin does his best not to interrupt, though he wants nothing more than to tell Two-Face to shut up. “Twelve, instead of thirteen. I hate odd numbers.”

The villain ascends said steps, pacing until he’s standing on the platform between Batman and the other man. “So. Two birds, killed with one gallows. The Batman and Judge “Let ‘Em Go” Watkins. Their fates are sealed. Double death penalties.” His eye - the unscarred one - narrows. “Of course, there are a few side bets open.”

“No…” Batman groans from under the hood. “Don’t play his game, Robin…”

“YOU’VE HAD YOUR LAST WORDS!” Two-Face roars, pistol-whipping Batman. Then he turns back to Robin, malice glinting in his eyes, smile dangerous and feral.

“Who dies first?” Two-Face rolls his trademark coin over his fingers. “The odds are fifty-fifty. What are the stakes, kid?”

Robin’s mouth goes dry. He knows all about making deals with Two-Face. Batman gave Robin a week-long lecture on it. And Batman’s number one rule deals with Two-Face?

Don't make them.

But adrenaline is shaking Robin’s hands. His heart is thudding in his throat. His stomach flips, blood running cold. Because this isn't what Batman discussed. Batman warned about making deals with Two-Face. He said nothing about making deals when Batman’s life is on the line. It's a totally different situation, and despite the nausea, Robin thinks he might have a handle on this. He might be able to fix this.

Batman must have a plan. He always does. But Judge Watkins doesn't, because Judge Watkins doesn't deal with Two-Face. It's not in his job description. So for now, Robin has to prolong the judge’s hanging for as long as possible.

“Who dies first?” Even saying it makes Robin’s heart miss a beat. “Scarred face, it's Batman. Clean, it's the judge.”

Two-Face grins, flipping the coin high with his thumb. The coin spins, spins, spins before landing solidly in his palm. He slaps it onto the back of his right hand and uncovers it. “Clean side. Judge goes first.”

Robin’s jaw tightens. “How about best two out of three?” It's a pathetic, desperate attempt to delay the inevitable.

But this widens the villain’s sly grin. “Two out of three, huh? I like it. What's the bet?”

There's a chance here. An opportunity to change the rules.

“Clean side up, the judge doesn't hang.” Robin doesn't say that the judge hangs second. He says the judge doesn't hang at all. He fully expects Two-Face to call him out on this, but instead, the man just shakes his head.

“Your call, brat.” Two-Face flips the coin again and chuckles. “Whaddya know? The kid’s a winner!” He cuts the judge’s noose from the crossbeam. “The judge doesn't hang.” And then he pulls the lever, releasing a trapdoor and dropping the judge below with a splash. “But he might just wish he had.”

Panic shoots up Robin’s spine. The judge is still bound. He's still got a hood over his face. He’ll drown. Robin rushes forward, but the twins hold him back. “But the coin toss-!”

“You gotta be careful of the terms when you place a bet,” Two-Face warns, still staring down the trapdoor at the pool hidden below. “You gotta be real specific. Otherwise you find yourself in over your head.”

Robin swallows hard, pulse thrumming in his ears. Batman was right. Robin never should have made that bet.

“Wake up, Bats,” Two-Face croons, pulling the hood off Batman’s head. It's hard to tell with the cowl on, but Batman looks… dazed. Aware, but not in fighting shape yet. “There's something I want you to see.

“Now you and your pal are even,” Two-Face explains to Robin, waltzing down the stairs. He holds out his arms, and one of the twins pulls Two-Face’s suit jacket off. “Your pal failed to kill Harvey Dent, and you killed Judge Watkins. And now I’m gonna kill both of you.” He rolls up his sleeves with a casual ease. “A two-for-one, but you're first. And the Bat?”

A fist collides with Robin’s left cheek, wrenching his head to the side and knocking him to the ground. He grunts, a sorry trail of blood streaming from both nostrils.

“The Bat will watch.”

Robin struggles to rise, but his head is spinning, and with his hands still tied behind his back, he can’t keep his balance long enough to stand.

“The kid can take a hit,” Two-Face laughs. “That’s good. There’s more comin’.

“You see-” The stiff toe of a dress shoe slams into Robin’s gut. “Harvey Dent was one of the good guys. Being good in this town means you need guts.” Another shoe - the same shoe? - shatters Robin’s cheekbone. “You gotta be tough. You gotta do things that aren’t in the lawbooks.”

There’s another dry, rattling chuckle. Robin’s eyes are tearing too much to tell if the next blow to his head is a kick or a punch.

“The Bat didn’t have the stomach for it,” Two-Face continues, tone bitter and cruel. “He punked out on Harvey.” He kneels down and pulls Robin up by his hair.

Two-Face’s visage, already warped and twisted by the acid, is barely human at all in Robin’s blurry gaze. His smile is bitter and cutting. His eyes gleam with the bloodlust of a starving lion.

“Batman, the great outlaw protector of Gotham, hid behind Lady Justice’s skirts. But she’s blind,” Two-Face explains. “She doesn’t see what needs to be done in her name.”

Two-Face stands, one hand still holding a fierce grip on Robin’s hair. “I wanted you to understand that.” He holds out his free hand, and one twin places a baseball bat in it. Two-Face’s fingers curl around the handle. “Before everything was said and done, I wanted you to know: It wasn’t me that killed you. It was the Bat.”

Then Two-Face sends the baseball bat crashing into Robin’s skull. He beats him across the floor. Pins him to the floor with a foot and cracks his ribs. Breaks an arm. Clobbers his stomach. Beats him until all he can taste is blood and all he can see is the fading theater lights.

Bravo, Robin. Take a bow.

The spotlight goes out. The curtains fall.

End scene. Exit stage right.

---

“Wake up, Bats.”

The voice is sickeningly sweet. Sickeningly familiar.

Harvey.

… Two-Face.

Suddenly, the room is blinding with light. With the hood gone, Batman can feel air against his skin. The fuzzy - but dangerous - image of Two-Face smirks down at him. “There's something I want you to see,” he caws.

Two-Face turns away, hands laced behind his back as he walks down the gallows. “Now you and your pal are even,” he says, but he’s not speaking to Batman. He’s looking at the short figure in front of Batman, flanked by two men. He’s speaking to-

“Your pal failed to kill Harvey Dent, and you killed Judge Watkins.”

The babies. The gallows. The bet.

Robin.

“And now I’m gonna kill both of you,” Two-Face continues, worryingly close to Batman’s…

… to Robin.

“A two-for-one, but you're first. And the Bat?”

Wham! Two-Face knocks Robin to the ground. Blood sprays.

“The Bat will watch.”

Bile floods Batman’s mouth. He tugs at his wrists, but the ropes hold strong.

“The kid can take a hit,” Two-Face laughs, nodding at Batman.

Good job, his expression reads. You trained the boy on how to withstand pain.

But he doesn’t say that. He just smiles that nauseatingly saccharine, dizzyingly charismatic courtroom grin. “That’s good. There’s more comin’.

“You see-” He kicks Robin in the stomach and then the face. “Harvey Dent was one of the good guys. Being good in this town means you need guts. You gotta be tough. You gotta do things that aren’t in the lawbooks.” He stomps viciously on Robin’s ribs.

Batman feels for the bottle of corrosive in his glove. It’s right where he left it, but it won’t slip out, the ropes trapping the bottle in.

“The Bat didn’t have the stomach for it,” Two-Face continues. Even if he pretends to be speaking to Robin, Batman knows a lecture when he hears one. And this is certainly a lecture intended for Batman. “He punked out on Harvey.”

Two-Face yanks Robin up by his hair. “Batman, the great outlaw protector of Gotham, hid behind Lady Justice’s skirts. But she’s blind. She doesn’t see what needs to be done in her name.”

Batman flexes his wrists and angles his hands. He has to do this perfectly if he wants to slide the bottle out without dropping it on the ground.

Two-Face stands. “I wanted you to understand that.” A lackey places a baseball bat in his hand. “Before everything was said and done, I wanted you to know: It wasn’t me that killed you. It was the Bat.”

More bile turns Batman’s mouth bitter. He doesn’t miss the play-on-words. It’s so undeniably Harvey that Batman feels his stomach drop through the trapdoor and sink to the bottom of the pool.

There's a dull thump as Two-Face swings the bat like he's playing tee ball. Except Robin’s head is the target. Then he swings it like a golf club. A tennis racket. An ax.

Batman fights desperately with his gloves, unable to look away as Two-Face beats the boy across the room. The bottle finally slips past the ropes and lands in Batman’s hand. He desperately removes the cork and dumps the bottle’s contents on the ropes. His jaw tenses all the while, lips pulled back in a snarl.

The ropes break free. Far, far too late, the ropes break free.

“Whew!” Two-Face sighs, standing over the tiny, bloody figure on the floor. “That’s thirsty work! But one good shot to the skull should finish it.” He raises the bat above his head, both hands braced on the grip. “Then I’ll bat for a double play!”

And Batman tackles Two-Face to the ground with an unrestrained fury.

“You son of a-” Two-Face swings at Batman, but the Caped Crusader ducks and lands a blow to Two-Face’s trick knee. Maybe if the situation was different, Batman would appreciate his own preparedness. He’d be grateful that he knew about the knee at all. But the situation isn’t different, so Batman doesn’t revel in anything but his own incompetence.

Two-Face goes down like a ton of bricks. His goons approach Batman from behind, but Batman rips the bat - the dark red bat, stained and splattered with the blood of a child - from Two-Face’s hands and swings it around, knocking both goons out. Then he knocks the gun from Two-Face’s grip and grabs the villain’s collar.

“Do your worst,” Two-Face goads. “I’ve already done mine.”

“I don’t have time to give you the beating you deserve,” Batman growls. “This will have to do.” And then he uppercuts Two-Face, sending him sprawling to the floor.

Batman doesn’t waste another precious second, crouching by the boy in the bloody yellow cape. “Robin?”

Robin doesn’t respond. He’s breathing, fighting for every wheeze of air, but his eyes are shut. Two-Face better pray they don’t stay that way.

“I’m here, partner,” Batman murmurs, collecting the boy in his arms and rushing for the Batmobile. “I’m here.” He doesn’t look back to check on Two-Face. He just runs.

Part 2

#whumptober2024 #no.23 #forced choice #batman #fic #blood #gun violence #blunt force trauma #medical procedure #canonical character death #dick grayson #bruce wayne #two face #robin year one #cross posted on ao3

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hayffiebird · 5 months ago

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Taste of Strawberries, chap. 45

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay Multi-chapter, Rated M

Summary: Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie returns in to Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is renewed. Will it lead to something more?

Meanwhile Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something that will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming.

Chapter 45, Take me drunk, I'm home

He staggered through the rain, wetter than a shot of whiskey dropped into a mug of beer. Nothing but thick black clouds above.

No moon. No stars. You couldn't see anything but the path right in front of you. Nothing to guide your way but the distant lights of the district.

The duffel bag was lost. Probably in a ditch somewhere. Soaked and vile. Like its owner. Or maybe he just tossed the thing in some corner of the train, after he’d finished the last bottle. He couldn't recall.

Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered anymore. Now that Effie and the kids were gone.

Where were they now? Which district? Did she manage to get them to sleep on time or was she still on rocking duty? Exhausted. Alone. While the train added mile after mile between them.

Once his family had gotten onboard back in Eleven, he was supposed to just sit back and wait. Bags packed. Ticket in hand, until his own train pulled into the station.

But he didn't. Walking up and down that misty platform. The smell of damp concrete. Distant rumbling. The unforgiving sky, overrun by storm clouds as dark as the soul of president Snow.

He couldn't stand 5 minutes of it. Hell, not even one.

If he was going to wait, might as well do it on a bar stool.

One of the local pubs was just around the corner. Chaff told him as much. Back when they were passing a bottle between themselves, he described the way in detail. The shops. The landmarks. Which road to turn and when.

“We’ll go there someday”, he said, the last time they ever spoke to each other. “Bring the little lady. If we survive this blasted war, drinks are on me.”

The bell above the door gave a merry tinkle when Haymitch pushed inside, 10 minutes later.

Just like Twelve, he thought. The one Sae and Ripper put up at the Hob made the exact same noise.

In the end, he didn’t mount a bar stool. Place was far from empty, despite the bad weather. Or maybe because of it. He couldn’t sit and wonder which ones of them mourned Chaff. Or – worse – if no one was even left besides Pearl, still alive to do so.

“A bottle of wine please”, he said and set the duffel bag on the counter. “Red. Whatever looks good. Or better yet, make it two. And the amber one over there.” He gestured to the rows by the mirror. “No need for a glass.”

The barkeep recognized him. One glance told him as much. But then again, who didn’t?

Must be Bernard, he thought. Unless the owner of this place had changed since the end of the war. Lean fellow. Same skin tone as Chaff, but his hair was grayer by the temples.

At least he didn't tell him to get the fuck out of his pub. The man simply reached for the desired bottles and set them on the counter, one by one.

“Will I have my work cut out for me later?” Bernard’s voice – if it was Bernard – was neither merry nor hostile. Just practical. Matter-of-factly.

“No”, Haymitch said. “I'm not staying. Not for long.” He got out his wallet, handed over the last of the ruffled bills. “Keep the change. Can you remind me I need to leave in an hour?” He glanced at the wall clock. “Hour-fifteen minutes? There's a train I gotta catch. Can't miss it.”

“Sure.”

Bag clunky and heavy, clinking with bottles, he found his way out into the beer garden. Dumped himself by the first available bench. The moist which had collected in vast continents on the painted wood, instantly soaked through his underwear.

More of the stuff trickled inside the collar of his shirt. Tepid as a cup of tea, forgotten on the mantelpiece. Summer rain, the kind that made you sweat even more.

Whatever. Here he was alone. The leafy trees growing around him offered some shelter but still: No one dumb enough to loiter out here today.

He unzipped the bag. Twisted the top of the first bottle he encountered. Didn't even hesitate before he had the first sip.

What for? Effs and the kids weren’t here. Amy. Ian. God only knew when he’d hold them in his arms again. No. He couldn't think of one good reason why he should board his train stone-cold sober.

Just don't get too deep in your cups, you ass, he warned himself before the second mouthful. Or else they won't allow you on.

He had to go home. Couldn't – wouldn’t – embarrass June and Annabel in front of their friends and neighbors. He'd been enough of a pest whilst under their roof.

Talk about wearing out you're welcome.

Half a bottle. Then the train.

And so he drank. Watched by no one but a ruffled mockingjay hiding in the trees and the occasional pair of eyes through a window.

His recollections thereafter were hazy. Nothing but bits and pieces – the passage of time.

Birds like black confetti, high in the sky. A lone dog barking. The splatter of water through a downpipe. The aftertaste of wine. Fruity and sour.

But the barkeep must have kept his promise because hours later, in the dead of night, the mentor of District 12 staggered out onto his own soil once again. Tanked to the gills. Again.

Home.

Shoulders sagging, rain dripping down his hair, his hands, his eyelashes, he hardly ever looked up. No need. He could walk this way blindfolded.

The ground felt soggy, slippery under his clumsy feet.

Different district. Same downpour. He swore it followed him from place to place. Taunting him.

Not that he didn’t deserve it.

He staggered through puddles as deep as his ankles. Didn’t bother to swerve off his path much. Only mindful of people’s windows. Their vegetable gardens.

Last thing he wanted was to ruin someone’s future dinner or frighten the kids in their beds with the sound of his squelching boots.

Lights were on in maybe one in ten houses. The Goat Man, who had a history of insomnia. Delly Cartwright’s youngest cousin who couldn’t sleep without a night light. Bristel and her husband. Naked and tangled in bed perhaps?

Most were dark though. Doors bolted shut against the night.

Not all of them. Up ahead, he saw the open window. Just slightly ajar to let the air in, on a warm night like this.

Someone was awake. Golden light spilled through the curtains of the living room. As he approached, he could just make out the soft rattle of cutleries against china over the pattering rain. A cup of tea perhaps. Or maybe a bowl of soup.

Half-blinded he rubbed his eyes, his soaked face. A pointless attempt. More than a little round under his feet he made a slack fist and knocked. Once. Twice. Or, in his state, it was more like pounding.

Eyes downcast, the first thing he noticed when she opened the door was her house slippers. Woolly and soft in a quiet pink color. A birthday gift from Hazelle.

Hand against the handle, she wore the same simple robes her mother wore before her. His gaze lingered on the small baby blue flowers around the hemline and the hems of her wrists.

Effie’s work. She stitched them onto the fabric, back during that summer she spent with them after her overdose.

Peeta loved the details and Nella loved the very texture of the little leaves and blossoms. Used to follow them with the tip of her finger.

Forget-me-nots.

Throat choked up, his dull, blood-shot eyes finally met her gray ones.

Seam gray. Like the eyes of his mother. His brother. His son and daughter.

Sae gave a quiet smile. As if expecting him.

“You better come in”, she said. “Before you catch your death out here.”

Haymitch’s face crinkled up like a worn tissue. He couldn’t help it. Couldn’t hide it. Not from her. The tears he’d carried within, for hours and hours – just below the surface – finally welled up.

All at once.

His old babysitter spoke nothing further. Water soaked through her slippers, but she paid it no mind. Just stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

He tried to speak. Tell her how sorry he was about the hour, the fact that he was drunk, that he didn’t know where else to go – but no words came out. Only sobs.

The old woman held him. Her small frame so frail and yet so strong. She caressed the back of his head, just like when he was a toddler, speaking soft, soothing words in his ear.

And Haymitch clung to her. Like a child to its mama, while raindrops tinked against the sphere-shaped porch light.

#hayffie #haymitch x effie #the hunger games renaissance #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #district 12 #hayffie twins #my fanfiction #post-mockingjay

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naushtheaspiringauthor · 8 months ago

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~Child Of The Storm~

Nikolai Lantsov x OC

Image by - @brokendreamtale2

Warnings- none

A/N- I absolutely loved writing this chapter and soon you'll know why 😼let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist- @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @sirisuorionblack @nadeleine123n @marauders-wife @evelyndane @el-de-phi

Ch-50 ~The harbinger of hope~

Gunfire shattered the air around them. Anaya grabbed the rifle of the soldier behind her and struck it at him, making him stumble backwards. She moved towards another soldier charging at her. She arched sideways, dodging a bullet fired at her. She then grabbed his rifle as she threw a kick to his ribs and thrashed his rifle at his head.

“Stay down!” Mal yelled from somewhere.

Amidst the crowd, Anaya could see Alina on the ground. The rest of them formed a circle and stood close to one another.

Harshaw was on the ground, but Stigg had his flint in hand, and flames shot through the air. Tamar and Tolya had charged into the fray. Zoya, Nadia, and Adrik had their hands up, and leaves lifted in gusts from the forest floor, Anaya had summoned a blade.

She heard a row of shots being fired in her direction. But before they could reach her, Zoya summoned a gust of wind, sending them away.

Another soldier charged at her from the side. But she threw her blade in his direction as she spun around. He fell down as the blade pierced through his neck. However, there were still a row of soldiers rushing their way.

Nikolai’s men moved forward, driving the Grisha ahead of them. Anaya finally noticed Nikolai standing by Alina’s side. The sight of him making a wave of relief wash over her, for reasons she failed to understand. They took off through the trees, trying to keep pace as Nikolai darted through the woods. Anaya had no idea as to where they'd been heading to.

The Squallers were summoning in tandem, knocking trees into the militia’s path. Stigg trailed them, sending up spurts of flame. David had somehow managed to retrieve his pack and staggered beneath its bulk as he ran beside Genya.

Tolya had Harshaw thrown over his shoulder, and the weight of the big Inferni was slowing his stride. A soldier was gaining on him, saber drawn. Tamar vaulted onto a fallen trunk, took aim with her pistol, and fired. A second later, the militiaman clutched his chest and crumpled mid stride. Oncat darted past the body, fast on Tolya’s heels.

“Where’s Sergei?” Alina shouted

Anaya cursed under her breath as she rushed back. She grabbed Sergei by the elbow who stood dazed, and utterly out of his mind.

“Come on you filthy idiot! Have you gone berserk!?” she screamed at him when he didn’t move forward.

The words finally made him snap out of whatever bewildered state he’d been in and he rushed forward with Anaya still gripping his elbow.

They were pouring into a barley field. Despite the heat of the late afternoon sun, the field was shrouded in mist. They pelted over the marshy soil until Nikolai shouted, “Here!” They skidded to a halt Anaya looked around in confusion. Just what did the boy had in mind?

She heard two shrill whistle blasts. The ground rocked beneath her feet. “Hold on tight!” Nikolai said.

“To what?” Alina yelped. Anaya found herself wondering the same.

They were suddenly rising. Cables snapped into place beside them as the field itself seemed to lift. Anaya glanced above and observed that the mist was parting, and a massive craft hovered directly over their heads, its cargo held open. It was a sort of shallow barge, equipped with sails at one end and suspended beneath a huge, oblong bladder. The soil beneath them fell away, and she saw that they'd been standing on a swaying platform made of a kind of metal mesh.

They rose higher, ten then fifteen feet above the ground. A bullet pinged against the metal. They took up spots at the edge of the platform, clutching the cables while trying to take aim at the mob firing up at them.

“Let’s go! Why aren’t we getting out of range?” Alina shouted. But Anaya believed she already knew the answer to that.

“They know we have the Sun Saint,” Nikolai said.

Mal nodded, snatched up a pistol, and gave Tolya and Tamar a swift nudge.

“What are you doing?” Alina asked, her voice brimming with panic.

“We can’t leave survivors,” Mal said. Then he dove from the edge. Alina screamed, but he tucked into a roll and came up firing. Tolya and Tamar followed, cutting through the remaining ranks of militia while Nikolai and his crew tried to lend cover from above.

Anaya saw one of the militiamen break free and run for the woods. Tolya put a bullet through his victim’s back, and before the body had even hit the ground. He was then turning, his hand forming a fist as he crushed the heart of another knife-wielding soldier looming up behind him. Tamar charged directly into the female soldier from earlier. Her axes flashed twice, and the militiawoman fell, her topknot drifting down beside her lifeless form, attached to a piece of scalp.

Another man lifted his pistol, taking aim at Tamar, but Mal was on him, knife slicing across his throat. And then there were none left, only bodies in a field.

“Come on!” Nikolai called as the platform drifted higher. He tossed down a cable.

Mal braced his feet against the ground, holding the rope taut so Tamar and Tolya could shinny up. As soon as the twins were on the platform, Mal hooked his ankle and wrist in the cable and they bent to haul him in.

Anaya then noticed that the man had risen from the dirt, covered in mud and blood, saber held out before him.

“Mal!” she heard Alina cry.

But it was too late, his limbs were tangled in the rope. The soldier released a roar and slashed out. Mal put up a useless hand to defend himself. Light flashed off the soldier’s blade. His arm stopped midswing, and the saber dropped from his fingertips. Then his body came apart, splitting down the middle as if someone had drawn a near perfect line from the top of his head all the way to his groin, a line that gleamed bright as he fell in pieces.

Anaya looked around in confusion. Then she noticed Alina standing at the edge of the platform, her hands glowing.

She'd used the cut.

The girl swayed, but Nikolai yanked her back before she could tip over the edge. She broke free of him, scooting to the far end of the platform and vomiting off the other side.

Moments later, the platform was hauled up into the Pelican’s cargo hold, and they were under way. When they emerged above deck, the sun was shining off the port side as they climbed into the clouds. Nikolai shouted commands to his crew.

One team of Squallers manned the giant lozenge of a balloon, while another filled the sails with wind. Tidemakers shrouded the base of the craft in mist to keep them from being spotted. Anaya recognized some of the rogue Grisha back from when she'd been aboard the Volkvolny.

This craft was larger and less graceful than the Hummingbird or the Kingfisher. She soon learned that it had been built to transport cargo, shipments of Zemeni weapons that Nikolai was smuggling over the northern and southern borders and occasionally through the Fold. It wasn’t constructed of wood but some lightweight Fabrikator-made substance that sent David into a tizzy. He actually lay down on the deck to get a better view, tapping everywhere.

“It’s some kind of cured resin, but it’s been reinforced with… carbon fibers?” he asked

“Glass,” said Nikolai, looking thoroughly pleased by David’s enthusiasm.

“More flexible!” David said in near ecstasy.

“What can I say?” asked Genya drily. “He’s a passionate man.” Genya’s presence was quite worrying, but Nikolai had never seen her scarred, and he didn’t seem to recognize her. Alina circulated a few reminders to their group about not using her real name.

Anaya rested her hands on the railing, gazing at the morning sky in front of her. After all they’d gone through, it was immensely difficult for her to believe she was still breathing. The peace, however relaxing, seemed daunting to her.

She turned around at the sound of footsteps behind her.

“Good to see that you’re alive, Miss Nasrazeen” Nikolai spoke as he stood beside her

“Just, Anaya would do. And believe me, it doesn’t feel as good as it sounds” she shrugged

“Ah I suppose your stay at the Apparat’s humble abode wasn’t really a great experience” he said with a pleasant grin

“If you call being buried in the soil for months, or however long it’s been, a ‘great experience’ then sure” she lifted one shoulder

“Well I assure you that we’re heading towards a far better place”. His expression grew somber as a thought struck his mind, “Your friend” he glanced at her with deep concern

“Didn’t make it” Anaya responded hesitantly as she looked down at her hands.

She could feel his gaze on her. Perhaps he'd seen the hint of despair in her eyes, despite her best efforts to hide it.

“What do you think of my latest creation?” he asked, referring to his ship. Clearly changing the subject before she could further dwell upon it

“Well, it is quite surprising what you’ve put together, given how less time you've had” she said, tilting her head briefly

“So you do like the pelican?” he spoke with great enthusiasm

“Pelican?” she raised an eyebrow. “What’s next, the Woodpecker?” she gave a slight smirk

“Don’t underestimate my love for birds, Anaya” He stated, grinning like an idiot yet again

She rolled her eyes in a rather unserious manner. She then noticed that they were heading directly towards the mountains, the northernmost peaks of the Sikurzoi, the range that stretched across most of Ravka’s eastern and southern border. They were massive, snowcapped things, all white ice and gray rock. They would have dwarfed the Petrazoi.

"Wait, why are we heading that way?" she asked. "Have you now found some way to move the mountains as well now?" She raised an eyebrow

"No unfortunately, still working on that" he responded, earning a look from her. "But, I assure you that you won't be disappointed" he added.

And he turned out to be right. They climbed higher. The air grew frigid as they drifted into the thick cloud cover. Here, the few mountaintops tall enough to pierce the clouds seemed to float like islands in a white sea. The tallest appeared as if it was clutched by huge fingers of frost, and as they arced around it, Anaya believed she saw shapes in the ice.

A narrow stone staircase zigzagged up the cliff face. Just what would happen if one looses their footing during climbing those stairs, she wondered, but quickly ushered the thought away.

They rounded the mountain, drawing closer to the rock. They rolled hard to the right and in a sudden, they were between two frozen walls. The Pelican swerved and they entered an echoing stone hangar.

The Prince had clearly been busy.

They crowded at the railing, gazing at the hectic bustle around them in an awe. Three other crafts were docked in the hangar, a second cargo barge like the Pelican, the sleek Kingfisher, and a similar vessel that bore the name Bittern. Nikolai’s crew threw lines over the Pelican’s rail, and workers ran forward to catch them, stretching them taut and tying them to steel hooks secured in the hangar’s walls and floor.

They touched down with a thud and a deafening screech as hull scraped against stone.

David frowned disapprovingly. “Too much weight.”

“Don’t look at me,” Tolya said.

As soon as they came to a halt, Tolya and Tamar leapt from the railings, calling out greetings to crewmen and workers they recognized. The rest of them waited for the gangway to be lowered, then shuffled off the barge. Nikolai gave orders to the waiting dockworkers for repairs and then led their ragged, wide-eyed band to a doorway in the rock.

“Everybody in,” he said.

With utter confusion, they crowded into the little rectangular room. The walls looked like they were made of iron. Nikolai pulled a gate closed across the entry.

“You’re on my foot,” Zoya complained grumpily, but they'd all been wedged in so tight it was hard to tell who she was angry at.

"What is this?” Alina asked.

Nikolai dropped a lever, and they let loose a collective scream as the room shot upward. A wave of adrenaline jolted through Anaya. This was clearly not what she had in mind.

They jolted to a halt and the gate slid open. Nikolai stepped out, doubled over with laughter. “I never tire of that.”

They hurried out of the box as fast as they could, all except for David, who lingered to fiddle with the lever mechanism.

“Careful there,” Nikolai called. “The trip down is bumpier than the trip up.”

Genya took David’s arm and yanked him clear.

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lantsov x oc #nikolai lantsov fanfiction

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handspunyarns · 2 years ago

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You Were Marked: Day Four.

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C

word count: 2.1K

summary: Din cannot stop laughing, Marathel ends up in a tree, and eggs are thrown with extreme prejudice

warnings: Mando'a and English cursing, violence to unborn ovoids

You Were Marked: Masterlist

<- You Were Marked: Previous Chapter

Din was still somewhere between dreaming and waking. He could only see soft, fading images in his mind: a gentle curve of a jawline, a slope of a pale-skinned shoulder. He heard a soft voice, quietly saying, “No . . . we can’t . . .” This denial made him furrow his brow even as he dozed, still gently supported in the herbal-scented clouds of sleep. Whyever not? He thought in his sleep. “No . . . don’t . . .” the soft voice pleaded again. No, don’t say ‘no’, he dreamed, but his dream was cut off like hitting a brick wall when he heard Marathel say, “Grogu! No, don’t!”, and Din felt the pounce of the little green goblin on his lower abdomen, not quite his area but close enough to make him grunt loudly with an “URGH,” and struggle to a sitting position with a babbling Grogu in his lap.

Marathel, outside the dark curtained cubicle, stammered, “I’m so sorry, Bounty Hunter! I told him not to wake you . . .”

“’s all right,” Din muttered as he pushed himself to a standing position, Grogu in the crook of his arm. “Time I was up. What the shab is so important, huh, buddy?” He stepped through his curtains and looked up to see Marathel standing primly in the center of the room, her hands clasped over her stomach. His first thought was that she was doing her best to look anywhere but at his face – well, helmet -- and his second thought was that she looked quite pretty today. Instead of her usual tunics and pants of dull tans, greens, and greys, she was wearing a gown of sunset yellow that fell into a swirl of fabric just above her ankles. Over this she wore a smock of deep charcoal grey, embroidered with yellow flowers around the neckline. Her silver hair was pulled back in a matching yellow scarf that was twisted around her shock of hair and tied off at the end.

Marathel looked dismayed that Din was awakened in such a startling manner. “I told Grogu that I needed his help this morning, but we couldn’t leave until you had awakened. I did not want you to find him missing. But . . . he is impatient.”

“Where are you going?”

“To collect eggs.”

“Eggs? Already?”

She looked at his helmet for the first time, confused. “What? Oh . . . no. Not Dahl eggs. It is not quite time for those. Chook eggs.” Din tilted his helmet at her in his quiet way that she already knew meant that he needed more information. “Chooks are, uh . . . fluttery, rather stupid ground birds. They lay lots of eggs that are good for eating. I thought it may be fun for him.” She gestured to the table, where a covered plate waited. “I made you some breakfast. Grogu has already eaten. We will just be past the vegetable garden, if it is acceptable to you?”

She had returned to her nervous formality of a couple days previous, Din noticed, as she dropped her head, and her hands began to go up her sleeves. Din stepped over and placed Grogu in her arms before her hands disappeared. “That is fine with me. That is within shouting distance, I think."

Marathel turned a light shade of a very becoming pink having Din so close to her. She nodded, and said, “We will not be long. You will have privacy, and I will shout as we get near.” She turned towards this kitchen, cooing to Grogu, “Yes, we can finally go now, little one.” The two stepped off the platform and disappeared around the rock ridge. Din waited a few more moments, and sure he was alone, removed his helmet and gloves. He lifted the cover off the plate: toasted slabs of bread with soft cheese and fruit, with some pan-fried meat. A fresh mug of her herbal tea. He had been eating better these past few days than he had the past few months – not that he was complaining – but food was not a high priority for him. He could get too used to this kind of treatment. And the bread. Osik, she made good bread. He shoved a slab into his mouth before he even sat down. What a good wife she would make, he thought idly, before he quashed that idea. He was not in the market for such an arrangement. He had all he could do to keep the child safe from the Imps, as well as keeping his Creed without entangling with a woman or any partner on a long-term basis. He had told Omera essentially that, and he hoped that she had found the person she needed.

And what – or whom – did Marathel need? He scoffed, and muttered, “She got what she needed last night,” under his breath with a smirk, and then silently chided himself for such an unkind thought. He finished eating, and then took the opportunity of being alone to clean himself up, washing his hair, cleaning the bite wound again with a fresh layer of salve – this brought a small grin to his face -- and changing out his thermals and flight suit for a fresh set he had brought with him from the ship. He was in the process of reattaching his cuisses when he heard a distant shriek. Certain that it came from the direction of where Marathel and Grogu had gone, Din leapt into action and was already running that way, strapping on his jetpack and two of his most favorite blasters as he went. He heard Marathel scream, “Bounty Hunter! Bounty Hunter!” making him panic. He was already thinking the worst: Grogu was hurt in some way, a chook had pecked him in the eye, a rabid Dahl was making off with the both of them – as Din tore past the vegetable garden and leapt over the fencing that enclosed the chooks, noticing that the chooks she spoke of were indeed some sort of chicken. Skidding to a halt in the middle of the enclosure, sending chooks fluttering and clucking in all directions, Din saw that Grogu was fine. Grogu, in fact, looked perfectly pleased with himself, sitting on the ground, the basket beside him, as he held an egg in each hand. He looked quizzically up at Din and then ate one of the eggs whole. But Marathel was nowhere to be seen. Din spun around, shouting, “Marathel? Marathel! Where are you?”

“I am . . . oof . . . up here!”

He followed the sound of her voice, looking about 10 meters up the large tree that shadowed the chook pen. There was a distinct rustle of branches and some leaves fell, as he finally saw her perched up in the tree, balanced on her belly on a branch, reaching down to the next branch with her swinging feet. “What . . . what are you doing up there?”

Marathel struggled a bit with a grunt, but finally made it down to the next branch. “He put me up here!” she yelled, pointing at Grogu.

Din was finding it impossible to hide his amusement. “Why?”

“Because you have taught him no manners!” She began to try to climb down to the next branch and was not succeeding at all. “Oof . . . I told him to stop eating all the eggs . . . I scolded him . . .” Marathel scraped her bare foot on sharp piece of bark. “Ow, ow, damnych! I scolded him, and the next thing I knew, I was up this tree!”

Din gaped at her, then looked down at Grogu, who grinned cheekily at him, and then back up at Marathel, who was glaring back at him in fury. The laughter burbled up from deep in his gut, from a place that had not been so tickled in such a long time, and he could not help it, he burst into peals of laughter that made his sides hurt. He held his sides, bent over, trying to get control of himself, but he looked back up at Marathel standing so haughtily in that tree, and then she stamped her foot, shouting, “It is NOT funny!” The sight of her stamping her foot set him off again, and tears were rolling down his face at how ridiculous she looked. She clumsily scrambled down to the next branch, and then yelled down to him, “Are you going to help me down or not?”

Din could barely catch his breath. “You . . . look like you’re doing just fine on your own!”

Marathel struggled down from branch to branch, cursing at Din in her old language and muttering. “Just as bad as Grogu, you are . . . just like a child! You aren’t doing that boy any favors . . . putting me up a tree . . .” and then her gown caught on a twig and tore a large rip in the back of the skirt, effectively shutting Din up instantly. Marathel gasped in horror, twisting to see the back of her dress, crying out “Oh, damnych and double damnych!” She was close to the bottom of the tree now, so she set herself hanging from the lowest branch she could by her hands. Din went to her, putting up his hands to catch her as she came down. Unfortunately, his hands were on her smock over her waist, and the smock slid up against her dress as she slid down, and his hands ended up bracketing her breasts and holding them high against her chest, accidentally -- mostly. Marathel gasped in outrage and shoved Din as hard as she could. “Why, you . . .” She stomped away from him, spitting over her shoulder, “Y mallawer perlys, on chydich mown dynion!”

Din chuckled quietly. “What does that mean?”

Marathel grabbed the basket. “It means, ‘there is much virtue in herbs, but little in men!’” You’re not wrong there, thought Din. She swept a chook out of the way with her foot, sending it fluttering away, Grogu giving chase. She grabbed two eggs out of a nest with too much force, smashing the shells. Disgusted, she threw the broken eggs on the ground, snapping, “Now look what you made me do!”

Din tilted his helmet. “Why are you so mad?”

“I am NOT mad!” This, of course, was a lie, and Marathel grabbed another egg, this time throwing it into her basket with enough force to annihilate both it and two more eggs in the basket. She grunted in rage and picked up some more eggs.

Din shifted his weight to one hip, crossing his arms over his cuirass. “You know, for someone who’s not mad, you’re sure making one hell of a mess out of those eggshells.”

Marathel glared at him, and chucked an egg right at his head, where it exploded on his visor. Din fell about laughing again, wiping the egg mess off his helmet. “Whoo! Look out, Empire, we have a Stormtrooper who can actually hit something!”

“Oh, shut up!” Marathel stomped off through the gate of the pen, slammed it shut behind her, and began marching down the lane back to her hut.

“Seriously, they could use someone like you!” Din shouted at her back. She whirled around, throwing another egg, which he tried to catch against his hip in his hands as it smashed into mush. “That’s what I’m talking about, lady!” he said, laughing even harder.

“RHAFF CODIEH!” Marathel screeched over her shoulder.

“And what does that mean?”

“It means PISS UP A ROPE!”

Marathel continued to march away so fast she was kicking up clouds of dirt at her ankles, her torn skirt swaying with each step, arms pumping at her sides. Din continued to laugh until he was certain she was out of earshot. He stood there, hands on hips, chuckling. “Ahhhh . . . Haar’chak.” He looked down at Grogu, who was covered in feathers and holding another egg, completely nonplussed by all the activity around him. Grogu looked back at Din, grinning. Then he ate the egg. With a sigh, Din picked up the little green morsel, brushing the feathers from his tiny robes. “I think we’re in trouble, kiddo.”

You Were Marked: Next Chapter

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legacyshenanigans · 2 years ago

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I don't hate you THAT much..

The boys all ran through the Forbidden forest, a Troll close on their heels, and adrenaline pumping through their veins, the sounds of panting, hollering, and the troll roaring echoing the area. Garreth and Leander hurled out spells towards the troll behind them as they ran, with Sebastian joining just in front of them as he had a firm grip of Ominis's hand helping him run through the dense valley, Amit and Everett were slightly ahead but also trying to fire out spells towards the troll. They all eventually made it to a large open space clearing of the woods. Garreth yelled out for them all to keep running as he stood in the clearing about to face the troll head on.

Leander: Not a chance! Im with you!!

Sebastian: Amit! Everett! Take Ominis and keep going!!

Ominis: Sebastian?! I-

Sebastian: Please Ominis! I dont want you getting hurt!

Amit: Of course!

Everett: Come on Ominis!

The Ravenclaw pair look Ominis with them, all the while Ominis shouted out for Sebastian in despair. Sebastian ran back towards the clearing to help the two Gryffindors, all three of them grunting and shouting out their spells towards the Troll, Leander had climbed up a nearby platform shooting spells from above as Sebastian and Garreth remained on the ground.

Sebastian: Keep fucking blasting it! And watch out for his hits!!

Garreth: Got it!!

The three of them running themselves to exhaustion against the behemoth Troll in front of them, Sebastian knew he could end this Troll in a heartbeat with dark magic, but resisted the urge, in fear of Garreth and Leander getting it out there, they weren't exactly the "best of friend's" so he felt his worries were valid.

The Troll hit the ground HARD with its club, sending a mass shock wave, making Sebastian and Garreth fly back onto the floor of the clearing. Sebastian quickly stood back up and looked over, seeing Garreth still lay on the floor, gripping at his leg in agony after hitting it against a large rock from the force of being pushed back, the Troll glaring towards him, beginning to charge over, club in the air.

Leander felt helpless atop the platform, still firing spells, but the troll was in some form of frenzy, Sebastian widened his eye's as he shouted out "Weasley!!!!" Running over to him and standing between the wounded Gryffindor and the Troll, the creature still coming full force, Sebastians face curled into intense anger as he held up his wand, screaming out "AVADA KEDAVRA!!!!" Sending a large bolt of green magic darting towards the troll, hitting it in the chest, the Troll letting out a strangled gasp, its eyes rolling back as it instantly fell backwards, hitting the floor with a loud crash. Silence filled the forest, Leander making his way from the top of the platform. Sebastian was panting, staring at the dead troll, before turning his attention to Garreth.

Garreth simply stared at Sebastian in shock, panting himself as Leander appeared.

Leander: Garreth! *kneels down beside him* Fuck, your leg! Are you ok?!

Garreth: Yeah *winces* I'm fine...

Sebastian: ....

Leander: *looks towards Sebastian* Didn't know you knew unforgivables Sallow...Never seen one in action before.

Sebastian: I...I just-

Garreth: You saved my life...*small smile*

Leander: You did *smiles* I'm willing to forget what I saw here today..Just from that alone.

Sebastian: *gives them a small smile back*

Garreth: Quite surprising, actually....Heh...You, saving my life.

Sebastian: Shut up Weasley *chuckles*....I dont hate you THAT much that I'd of let you die..

Leander and Sebastian both help Garreth up, to make their way once again through the forest.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy drabbles #hogwarts legacy headcanons #headcanon #drabbles #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow headcanon #garreth weasley #leander prewett #ominis gaunt #everett clopton #amit thakkar

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shychick-52 · 1 year ago

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Fanfic - Fenro Week 2023

Here is my contribution for Day 2 (Family, Healing/Beginnings, Future) of @fenroweek2023.

It is a direct sequel to my story from last year's Fenro Week, Thank You, taking place immediately where that left off. Doesn't yet have a title XD

Gizmoduck didn’t have the strength in him to rise or open his eyes, let alone continue to fight. Both he and the armor fared poorly after his battle with 2-BO. He didn’t think either of them would survive another attack.

Out of all the opponents he faced, the little robot boy proved his most formidable and dangerous.

As Gizmoduck lay on the pavement in the damaged suit, vulnerable without his helmet- which had been discarded by 2-BO, now cracked and useless beside him (fortunately, Inspector Tezuka had managed to temporarily taser him before he could harm his exposed head or face)- he could feel 2-BO’s shadow suddenly creep over him, blocking out the sun as he loomed high, poised to strike the finishing blow.

No. It can’t end like this. M’ma… Huey… Gyro… all my friends. I’m sorry. I failed everybody.

But then something else moved in directly above him. A voice. Gyro’s voice… unusually earnest and pleading.

“2-BO! You are not evil! You are good!”

To Fenton’s absolute horror, the sound of 2-BO’s rocket thrusters became increasingly audible. He forced open his eyes-

Gyro boldly stood on the hovering platform that had been occupied by Akita only moments ago, standing between the fallen hero and 2-BO, the latter swooping down like a bird of prey upon his victim. And with 2-BO, Fenton’s heart also plummeted.

A million things exploded through his mind at once.

G-Gyro? You…? NO! What are you doing? You’ll be killed!

Blathering blatherskite, I’ve never felt more useless! He willed everything he had to get up and get Gyro out of there, but to no avail.

What even made him change his mind about 2-BO? And I’ve never heard him sound like that before!

He’s… risking his life to s-save me…?

“You’re more than your programming!” Gyro continued to cry out in a desperate bid to get through to his invention, with even more emotion.

Fenton was barely aware of Huey’s presence, tightly gripping the right shoulder of the Gizmoduck armor as he likewise observed the terrifying turn of events.

And yet, an ounce of hope remained. A tiny spark, awaiting the perseverant fanning into a flame.

“Come on, Boyd,” Huey whispered, confirming he felt it too.

Gyro… 2-BO…

The remaining seconds ticked by as if in slow-motion, with no change, almost tauntingly. Fenton was just about to yell out to Gyro to get out of the way, to save himself, when his lanky mentor yelled, voice hitching, “YOU ARE A DEFINITELY. REAL. BOY!”

2-BO dove straight for Gyro’s outstretched arms-

A collective gasp burst out of Fenton, Huey, and also Tezuka, where she held the handcuffed Akita.

-And smashed into him with his ready fist.

The horrified, pained screeches of the little audience seemed to rock the street, a sonic-boom briefly shooting along the wind before it altogether dropped (leaving behind the remnants of an echo), just like-

“GYRO!”

“NO!”

The platform descended, presenting them with the crumpled, bloody form of their friend.

2-BO, meanwhile, was nowhere in sight. He had apparently blasted off elsewhere. But even though the rest of the city was doomed, all Fenton could think about was Gyro.

“Dr. Gearloose?” Huey wept, kneeling over him.

He carefully examined his vitals, before hoarsely exclaiming “He’s- he’s g-gone!”

The ever-loyal Lil Bulb slowly emerged from the inside pocket of Gyro’s vest, collapsing on his inventor’s unmoving chest in a pool of crimson. Half his bulb was completely cracked, broken, exposing the dented filament. His limbs were a mangled mess, right leg and left arm uselessly dangling by thread-like wiring. A slow, disjointed series of buzzes and whirrrrs rose.

Fenton wrestled his way out of the armor, crawling to Gyro’s side. “Oh, Dr. Gearloose… Gyro. I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry,” he whispered, shaking with the fervency of his own sobs, which surpassed even Huey’s. He gingerly cradled his upper body to him, stroking his matted, stained feathers. He looked so small in Fenton’s lap, and his glasses and hat were lost, making him look twice as vulnerable.

With Akita safely locked in the Inspector’s car, she too approached the scene. Her countenance was a mix of grim, furious, and forlorn as she removed her hat, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched.

Every one of Gyro’s organs and ribs had to be shattered. As it was, both arms were bent and twisted in gruesomely unnatural positions. And only then did Fenton catch the edge of naked bone stabbing clean through the right elbow.

Fighting the mounting tsunami of nausea, he quickly ordered Huey not to look.

It didn’t deter Fenton from his unexplainable burning need to hold Gyro close as though he might never let go, to protect him. An unstoppable torrent of hot, thick tears gushed down his face, splashing onto Gyro’s.

He was overcome with the most disconcerting sensation of detachment from reality, from time, from his own body, leaving him wracked with the agony of a gaping, hollowed-out cavity in his own chest where a crushing heaviness took residence.

Minutes later, the reverberating blast of plasma fire in their direct vicinity was all but lost on Fenton like background din.

What immediately followed without a beat- Gyro disintegrating into literal nothingness- was not.

The windows to Fenton’s soul snapped, stretched to their capacity. He could see his own tears being flung away, tiny crystal-like fragments, again in almost slow-motion. It was a wonder his mind was in any condition to process this unspeakable new development. A raw, unearthly scream wrenched from his throat as he stared at the empty space in his arms where he could still perfectly see Gyro.

He forced himself to face the direction of the onslaught. The Moonlander general stood mere feet away, smoking blaster in hand. He wore a smile colder than any new Ice Age he once tried to usher in over Earth.

“That one,” Lunaris said, “was not a clone.”

The laughter of Akita sounded in the distance, high and cruel.

***

Fenton gave a violent jolt, unceremoniously dumped into a strange new realm of awareness.

He choked harsh, frenzied gulps of breath in and out as he hugged himself in practically a death-grip. His sights erratically pinballed.

Finally, his focus returned, allowing him to calm down and retrieve his bearings. He was on the Sunchaser/Cloudslayer (piloted by Lil Bulb) with Gyro, Huey, and 2-B- Boyd, bound for home after their adventure in Tokyolk.

An adventure that resulted in Gyro confronting his and Boyd’s connected pasts, learning the incredible truth behind them, confronting his cruel old mentor, emotionally reconciling and embracing his long-lost ‘child’- not his greatest failure after all, but rather his greatest achievement- and acknowledging and promoting Fenton (even though his new status was only honorary, since he hadn’t earned his doctorate yet, the gesture from Gyro was genuine and meant the world to Fenton). And it looked like- at least, Fenton dearly hoped- the beginning of a real friendship between him and Gyro.

Fenton made his gaze deeply drink in the sight of his friends, including Boyd. Gyro was safe, and all of them were still sound asleep. Gyro sat to the right of him, followed by Boyd, then Huey.

But his chance to sink into a much-needed sigh of relief was short-lived. To his alarm, Gyro began to release loud, broken whimpers; writhing, his entire face contorted in agony.

“Gyro?” Fenton whispered, tentatively touching his shoulder. Should he wake him or leave him be? His first instinct was the former, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure if being suddenly woken would be a shock to his system in the state he was already in.

Only three undecided seconds went by when Gyro’s nightmare spat him out first, gasping and trembling like Fenton had.

“Dr. Gearloose!” Keeping his voice low, Fenton gently pulled Gyro against him, cocooning him in a protective embrace that reminded him of the dream. He rubbed circles against his back, fleetingly wondering if he would think Fenton was taking advantage of his grudging acceptance of being hugged earlier (he did say it was a “just-for-today thing”, but still).

Finally, he could feel Gyro’s heart- pressed against his own- begin to slow down, resuming a normal rhythm, his breaths coming in like the softening laps of the tide after a great wave.

“Are you all right?” Fenton asked. He eased himself off Gyro, still tightly watching him.

And that’s when he saw the tears staining Gyro’s face. How hadn’t he noticed them right away? And that’s when he saw the tears staining Gyro’s face, glistening in a patch of moonlight. How hadn’t he noticed them right away? The fresh remainder pooled in the corners of Gyro's eyes, before escaping and chasing each other down.

But that wasn’t the most surprising thing. It was the way Gyro stared right back at him in what could only be described as a cocktail of leftover terror and sheer relief. Though not exactly the kind of relief one normally feels at realizing what they experienced was just a dream, because his gaze was distinctly focused. There was something more there.

Gyro exhaled tremulously, pressing his fingers against his temple.

“Dr. Gearloose? I don’t mean to pry, but do you want to talk about it? I don’t know what you dreamt about, but I think I understand how you’re feeling right now. Believe it or not, I just had a nightmare myself.”

“…You did?” Gyro quietly asked with a slight frown. It was difficult to read his reaction. Curious? Surprised? Concerned…?

Fenton nodded. “It was the most realistic, terrifying one I’ve ever had, and I’ve had some pretty intense ones. Anyway, I’m sorry, Dr. Gearloose- I don’t mean to make it all about me. But I understand if you don’t want to-”

“Do… um, you want to talk about it?”

He couldn’t believe it. Gyro was offering to listen? And what was more, he sounded genuine. This was the man who had little patience for simple conversation! When he gave Fenton his promotion, he told him that he was going to treat him with respect and support from now on, but he wasn’t expecting such a milestone so soon.

Fenton was touched. In his already emotional state, it was difficult to keep from crying.

But… was he comfortable sharing this nightmare with Gyro- would Gyro even be comfortable hearing about it- since it concerned him, not to mention its intensity?

“You don’t have to, of course,” Gyro added a touch awkwardly, seeing his hesitation, “but I-”

“It was about you.”

An incoherent noise of disbelief tumbled out of the other scientist.

After a quick glance at the still sleeping kids (as Boyd’s sleep-mode worked similarly to a person’s, he could be awakened by external stimuli), Fenton told Gyro everything. Once he started, he found the words just poured out, unable to stop even if he really wanted to.

Including describing what his death did to him.

Only when he nearly finished did he realize Gyro looked like a course of electricity had coursed through his veins and left him stunned.

Fenton concluded, biting his lip, “I truly felt like nothing would ever be ok again.”

“I- but- you-” whispered Gyro.

“Gyro?”

“I… had the same dream, minus the Moonlander. Only, you were the one 2-B- I mean, Boyd attacked. I was too late to move in, it all happened so fast. One minute, I spotted you injured on the ground from your fight with him, then-”

He swallowed, paling. “It was- it was the most- I was too blathering late! I always knew I should have gone above Scrooge’s head and scrapped the armor a long time ago, or even refused to make the new model for you in the first place! If you hadn’t stolen the original- if I’d never even developed Project Blatherskite- you would’ve still been alive! Do you have any idea how difficult it was finding you unconscious in the old prototype armor before I fired you for being a reckless danger to yourself and others? Or what it was like when I heard you were hospitalized after your temporary gig as Waddleduck, you noble, self-sacrificing idiot? Or every single time you have to leave the lab to go Gizmoducking and I’m left wondering if you’re going to return in one piece, or at all?”

Gyro…

Gyro breathed heavily. “I always knew Gizmoduck would end in another 'Tokyolk incident', only it wasn’t only my reputation I was terrified of losing all over again,” he said. Some of the vehemency of his tirade had dissipated, but the earnestness remained. “I was so conflicted about how much like my former self you w- are.”

Fenton caught how he hastily corrected himself there, as though he still had one foot stuck in the dream.

“I liked and hated that. I… I know it’s no excuse, but maybe part of the reason I was so tough on you was because- well, as cliché as it sounds, I truly always did believe in you both as a scientist and a hero- but also because, at the same time, I wanted to squash that naivete and bright-eyed over-optimism before it ended up destroying you like it did to me or literally. And it isn’t easy for me to admit, but I was wrong, Dr. Inter- Fenton. The truth is,” he murmured, “I never saw just how much I cared about you until the minute I spotted you helpless on the ground today, about to be attacked by poor, corrupted Boyd.”

That was exactly what gave Fenton the same revelation before he and Gyro fell asleep earlier. But to hear Gyro actually tell him that...

“You risked your life to save me,” Fenton said for the second time since they'd been on the plane back home. He gave his shoulder a firm squeeze. “I really won't ever forget that. And I care about you too, Gyro, very much." Maybe it was redundant to say so after already explaining the impact his own dream had on him, but it seemed necessary.

The ghost of a smile crossed Gyro’s face.

“You know,” said Fenton thoughtfully, “I’ve always considered you, me, Lil Bulb, Manny, even Huey- and now Boyd- a family. Team Science. And after everything that’s happened today, I can safely say I feel that way even more strongly.”

“I can live with that,” Gyro replied, the smile returning in the form of a good-natured smirk as he rolled his eyes. “And we all may be misfits, but, well, you’re my misfits.”

#fenro week 2023 #fenro #gyro gearloose #fenton crackshell cabrera #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #fanfic

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daydreaming-in-letters · 1 year ago

Text

Earth & Fire

Chapter II - The most unlikely of places

07/14/2023

Pairing: Hades (Hozier) x Anthea (OFC)

Word Count: 2,937

Warnings: angst, heartbreak and Hades, finally Hades!

Summary: Having barely escaped the ravenous greed of Zeus' desire, Hephaestus is determined to do whatever it takes to keep his daughter safe.

A/N: Buckle up, everyone, we're finally entering the Underworld.

Earth & Fire - Masterpost

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

There was nothing but darkness. Darkness and the biting cold that slowly crept into her bones the further they emerged into black nothingness. The only warmth came from her father’s hand that was securely clutching her own ever since they had stepped through the wide cave entrance. She couldn’t tell how long ago that had been. Darkness had wrapped around them soon after and it already seemed like an eternity ago since she had felt the last rays of sunshine on her skin. Her feet agreed, aching as if she had been walking for days on end and growing heavier with each step.

Still Anthea had no intention of asking for a rest. She knew who they were running from, knew that this was all her fault. If only she hadn’t decided to go swimming that morning and given her father a proper goodbye, none of this would have happened. They wouldn’t have been forced to leave their home in a hurry, running blindly through an icy cave to… Where to? Seeing that it was Zeus himself who was after them, hiding seemed pointless. There was no place on earth he wouldn’t be able to find them. This was his realm, and there was nowhere they could go.

“Father, please. Where are you taking me?”

He kept on walking as he spoke. “To the only place you will be safe.”

“What place?” She just had to know. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her father. There was no one else she would ever trust more than him, but she just couldn’t think of any place Zeus wouldn’t sooner or later come looking for them, and she wasn’t sure Hephaestus could either.

“You will see soon enough,” he grunted, fastening his step as he kept on pulling her along and she knew the conversation was over. There was no use in pushing any further on this matter. He wouldn’t answer her. And what scared her infinitely more than not knowing was his reluctance to even name the place they were headed to.

They walked on in silence. And on, and on, a glimpse of eternity, until she couldn’t tell anymore what was real and what was not. At some point she had thought to feel a whiff of air, carrying a mild breeze. But it was gone as soon as it had come and the more she thought about it, Anthea blamed it on her senses playing tricks on her. Just like the faint light that had appeared ahead of them a long while ago. Her eyes made her believe that the blueish shine was getting brighter by the minute, but that was impossible of course. They must be so far beneath the earth by now, and everyone knew that there was no light to be found down here.

But then suddenly a few shapes began to manifest. Sharp rocks mostly, they were everywhere, to her left and right, even above her head, black and spiky, telling her unmistakably that she shouldn’t be here. There was a noise now, too. The further they went, the surer she became what it was and when they rounded another corner, she wasn’t surprised to find herself at the bank of a wide river. It was gurgling strangely, while white mist crawled across the surface and blurred the line between water and land. Like everything down here, it held an odd, blueish glow, the source of which was still nowhere to be seen. A good distance away, the mist slowly began to part. Something was moving through it, heading towards them and Anthea could feel the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand in unease.

A boat, she realised, steered by a cloaked and hooded figure. Its bow turned into the most hideous figurehead she had ever laid eyes upon. Nothing but a long neck, part of it entangled in thorny vines, the rest covered in fish scales, craned upwards, and topped with a human skull. Long, winding horns were rolled up to the sides of it, and between two rows of sharpened teeth, it held a lantern. Within it danced a single blue flame.

Another shiver rolled over her skin as the bark landed, a bloodcurdling, scratching noise echoing from the high stonewalls, and Anthea stopped, forcing Hephaestus to do the same as to not let her hand slip out of his. He looked back, anger flaring behind his light-blue orbs, but when he realised the horror on his daughter’s face, his eyes softened.

“Please, my flower, don’t be alarmed. You have got nothing to fear from the ferryman.”

“Indeed it is not me you should fear.” The ferryman’s voice was raspy and dark. The voice of an old man. But it also held the warmth of a bemused smile. “Lord Hephaestus,” he then greeted her father. “I would say it is good to see you again, but something tells me that the two of you are not on a pleasure trip.”

“You are right, Master Charon. Indeed we are not, yet I, too, have to admit that it is good to see you again after such a long time.”

The ferryman, Master Charon, nodded, making the grey beard that fell down his chest bob slightly.

“Come now. We need not waste anymore time with kind words for he is already awaiting your arrival.”

He helped them both inside the vessel, Anthea first, and even when her father finally sat down beside her and took her hand, it refused to bring the soothing comfort it usually did. They travelled in silence, nobody spoke a word and strangely enough, the boat didn’t make any sound either as it glided across the water. But suddenly, her ears picked up a whisper. It was not very loud at first, making her question whether it was there at all, but soon it grew louder, several voices mixing together, swelling until she could clearly make out the word they were chanting over and over again: Anthea.

She didn’t think much of it as she reached out her hand towards the source of the whispers, her fingertips already parting the mist to reveal the pitch black water underneath.

“I wouldn’t proceed if you value your life, girl.”

The unexpected warning of the ferryman made her jump, her fingers retreating just in time as a white, fleshless hand broke through the surface and reached for her. In panic she yanked her hand away, holding it close to her chest.

“Anthea!”

She could hear the same terror in her father’s voice that had befallen her own heart, and still she flinched as she turned and found his scolding stare upon herself.

“I’m sorry.”

Her voice was quiet and once again, Hephaestus face softened in a heartbeat for his daughter.

“It’s not your fault, my flower. I should have given you a word of warning.” His lips pressed to the crown of her hair, one arm wrapping around her shoulder to pull her closer. “Promise me to be more careful down here, will you?”

“I promise, father.”

It was not long after this incident, the fright still lingering in her bones, when Charon broke the silence again.

“We will arrive soon.”

Beside her, she felt her father sit up straight. His arm fell away from her shoulder in the process and with it the warmth it had brought. Anthea shivered again, her eyes drawn to the riverbank where another hooded figure slowly came into view. He was tall, taller even than her father and Hephaestus was already towering higher than any mortal she knew. In his hand, hidden by wide sleeves, he held a bident, its two sharp prongs reaching even higher than his head. Despite the cloak that added to the width of his shoulders, Anthea noted that they weren’t as wide as her father’s, not even close. And somehow this detail calmed her a little.

It was impossible to see his face behind the darkness of his hood yet, but even as they got closer and set foot onto the rocky shore, the light that came from behind his back made it impossible to glimpse even the tiniest hint of its features.

“Klytometis,” the stranger greeted her father. His voice was calm and measured. If he felt any emotions upon their arrival, he disguised them well. Still, the term he had chosen to address Hephaestus honoured her father and his skills. Anthea knew that there were others he could have used, plenty of them, that made fun of her father’s leg or diminished his craftsmanship. In her mind she thanked the stranger for showing Hephaestus the respect he deserved but so seldomly received.

“Khthonios.” Anthea watched in bewilderment as her father dropped to one knee, holding his head low. He had never done that before. A god had no need to humble himself before others. “I need your help. We need your help.”

A strange sensation befell her as she could feel a pair of eyes taking her in from underneath the darkness of his hood, for the first time since their arrival. Later she would remember this moment, remember the violent shiver it sent down her spine, but she would never truly be able to fathom whether it had been caused by his gaze or the way her father had addressed him. Khthonios—of the Underworld.

“Stand up, Hephaestus. There is no need for such formality between us.” Her father did as he was told, thanking the hooded creature with a wordless nod. “So you have come seeking my aid.” A long silence followed his words, stretching uncomfortably between them and when he spoke again, his words felt like a slap to their faces. “Yet I don’t recall owing you any favour.”

Like the cold of a rainy winter day it sank in. He wouldn’t help them. They had come all this way for nothing. It was as clear to Anthea as anything. Now all they could do to preserve their honour was leave before they would overstay their welcome. And so she reached for her father’s hand and gently pulled him towards the ferry, but Hephaestus was unrelenting.

“I am well aware of that. And believe me, my lord, if there were any other way—”

“There is always another way,” her father was cut off politely but firmly, still he refused to accept the rejection.

“Not this time. Not with him—”

Again, Hephaestus was cut short as the other lifted his hand to silence him. Anthea was in shock. She had never seen her father like this, pleading and supplicant, just to be silenced by a single gesture. Nobody had ever dared to turn him down.

“Say no more. I could already sense my brother’s foul stench on your daughter the moment you entered my realm.”

My brother. My realm. His words washed away the last of her doubts about his identity. It was the ruler of the Underworld himself that stood before them, Hades Khthonios, King of the Dead, and it was only now that she fully understood the despair her father must be in. What it must have cost him to take her to the Underworld and ask the most unpopular of all the gods for help. And to be rejected like this after all that torment.

No, she wouldn’t tolerate this one second longer. As the God of the Underworld had suggested: there must be another way. Maybe there were others they could ask for help. Her grandmother, she despised her husband enough to surely side with them. And probably other gods would follow.

She was just about to tug at her father’s hand again, to speak up if necessary, when only three words settled the matter, and decided her fate.

“She can stay.”

No. No, no, no, no, no.

“I thank you, Lord Hades. I will forever be indebted to you for your most generous offer. Anthea will be safe here with you.”

“You have my word.”

Anthea watched in disbelief as the two gods sealed their agreement. She knew what would follow now, and still she pushed the thought away as far as she could.

“You will stay with me, won’t you, father?” she pleaded as he turned around to face her. And with a glance over his shoulder she added, “You won’t leave me here.” With him, she had wanted to add, but even in her distraught state she realised it would be horrendously foolish to cross yet another god.

“You will be in safe hands, my flower. And knowing that, I will be able to fulfil my duties as a father and protect you. I need to take care of Zeus, set him on the wrong track. It will distract him, hopefully long enough for the chase to tire his greed.”

“But—”

“No,” her father grabbed her shoulders and looked at her intently, “this is the way it has to be. The only way to keep you unharmed. From the moment you came into my life, I swore to protect you, whatever it takes. Please allow me to be your father now and keep that oath.”

He was right. Her heart had known even before he had spoken that he was. Still, tears blurred her vision, and however much she tried, soon she could feel them run down her cheeks in hot and salty streams.

“I will miss you, father.”

“Sh, no goodbyes. Or have you forgotten how much you hate them?”

Anthea couldn’t help but chuckle and Hephaestus managed a smile as well as he wiped away the tears from her eyes. He then reached into the leather bag he was carrying to bring a small object to light, wrapped in cloth. Carefully he tugged the fabric aside to reveal a tiny golden robin.

“I made this a long time ago, when I was young, foolish and in love. I kept it for sentimental reasons, but I want you to have it now.” One large finger that looked as if it belonged to a giant next to the delicate bird, pushed down on its chest and the bird spread its wings before a hatch opened up its back. “You can write to me if you like and enclose your letters safely within the bird. The robin will know where to find me.”

Hephaestus pressed the button again, the hatch falling shut to be covered by the robin’s shiny wings again. Carefully he placed it in his daughter’s hands, one last token of his love for her before he had to leave.

Desperate arms reached out for him, wrapping around his strong chest while Anthea buried her face against it. His arms closed around her and for a moment, the world fell away. She could hear his strong heartbeat, the air filling his lungs and leaving them in a hurry as he released a deep sigh. His familiar scent filled her nose and she vowed she would forever memorise it, along with the image of his smile, and his eyes when they lit up in joy, his warm voice when he softly spoke her name. It would have to suffice until she could leave this place and be with him again.

She was reluctant to loosen her hold, although she was well aware of the inevitability of their goodbye. And so it was her father who softly pushed her away to look at her.

“Remember what I told you, my flower. Courageous heart, calm mind.”

“Courageous heart, calm mind,” she repeated like she had done so many times before. With a proud smile on his lips, he leaned in to leave a kiss on her forehead. She could still feel his lips there when he passed her by to join the ferryman on his bark.

They had already discarded, Charon pushing them down the Styx and away from her, when just once, Hephaestus turned to look at his daughter again, his eyes shimmering suspiciously in the gloomy light. Intuitively, she took a step forward. Not to follow him, she knew she couldn’t, but to lessen the distance, just for a moment.

Of course, he didn’t know that, and so she felt a determined hand grabbing her wrist to keep her from doing anything foolish. She hadn’t even realised he was close enough to reach her, but he seemed to take his promise to her father very seriously. His grip wasn’t unpleasantly tight, but tight enough to remind her very effectively of the only alternative to her exile.

For a second her eyes fell down to the spot where his fingers touched her. Anthea wasn’t sure what she had expected. White bones void of flesh wrapping around her wrist? Whatever horror her mind might have imagined, it was far from the slender fingers she found. Stunned, she looked up at his face, yet again she found nothing but darkness. But it made him let go of her, and when she remembered why he had reached for her in the first place, she turned around. The river lay silent now, the mist unmoved. Her father was gone.

“I know how you must feel, but Hephaestus is right. There is no other way.”

His voice was warm, full of compassion, but she hated it just the same.

“You know nothing about me,” she spat, facing him again. “Least of all how I feel.”

To her great dismay, he didn’t rise to her venomous tone. She would have loved to allow him a taste of the feelings he had just claimed to know. Instead he silently extended his arm, pointing towards the path he must have walked to come here.

Chapter 3

***

Tag List:

@ashesofblackroses 🖤

#hades!hozier x ofc #hades!hozier #hozier #hozier fanfiction #greek mythology au #earth and fire

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girlwiththepapatattoo · 1 year ago

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The Unlikely Similarities Between Kittens and Vampires, Chapter 17

Warnings: Canon typical violence, arguing, Astarion being himself

Summary: They don't always mesh, and feelings are hard.

Notes: Okay, so, apologies that this chapter took so long! I had a bout of writer's block and then I had the flu which turned into bronchitis like always. But I hope that you enjoy this chapter! Playing some more with canon because, honestly, I hate that you just stand there and watch Nere kill that gnome even if you're 100% planning on killing him. Enjoy! <3

Read on Ao3 here!

Previous Chapter | First Chapter

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Sweat drips down Sable’s skin, sliding down her spine and drenching her clothes. Which is no surprise, really, considering the floor is quite literally lava.

The slavers lay dead in the huge, blisteringly hot room, the only separation between their feet and the molten rock being a series of metal grates. Now all that remains is to clear the rocks trapping True Soul Nere and the other gnomes. The druid moves a little away and begins rummaging around her back for any explosives.

“Darling, might I offer a bit of advice with our little problem here?” Astarion says, crouching down next to her. She looks up at him, watching a bead of sweat slide down his cheek. He’s just as affected by the heat as everyone else (only Karlach seems to be fairly okay), and she’s not sure why she thought he wouldn’t be.

Probably the whole being undead thing.

“Of course you can,” she murmurs, and looks back down to the pack. Where did I get so many bottles of grease from?

He lowers his voice. “If we only wait a little while, the poison in there will do our job for us. There wouldn’t need to be a fight with the man, we’d just need to lop his head off and head back to mushroom land.”

She frowns, tossing aside a random plate she’d picked up and thought she could sell because it’s silver. “We can’t do that. The gnomes in there would die with him.”

“Gods, really?” She looks up at him, startled at his tone. His nose is wrinkled as if he’d smelled something bad. “Saving gnomes? I know you like to save everyone, it’s very admirable, but honestly…”

Sable stares at him as if he’s grown two heads. “I…you’re just joking, right?” she asks, her voice incredulous.

His eyebrow arches. “No? Why would I want to ruin my nails trying to save some gnomes who are probably dead anyway?”

Her incredulity falls quickly into an ice stare. She glares at him. His kitten, the ever-anxious Sable, is outright glaring at him. She doesn’t say another word, just goes back to rifling through her pack.

“Erm…Sable?”

“Don’t talk to me,” she spits, and yanks her arm out of her pack. In her hand were two smokepowder satchels. Ignoring Astarion’s shocked spluttering, she stalks over to the cave-in and sets them up. “Everyone back up!”

The gnomes and their group scramble backwards, and once she’s far enough away, her hand lights in flame. She launches a firebolt towards the satchels, and a massive explosion rocks the room. Rubble flies everywhere, and when the dust clears, Nere and several gnomes are walking out of the room beyond, covered in dust and coughing.

The drow’s face is contorted with rage as he turns for the slaves who followed him out. Sable’s eyes widen in dread as purple magic starts to swirl around his hands. “Worthless slaves. Your incompetence has been my ruin!”

“NO!” In a burst of movement, wings burst from Sable’s form, and she takes off like a shot just as Nere’s magic hits the gnome woman. She screams as she’s shoved into the air, arcing towards the lava, the heat searing her skin and causing the ends of her hair to curl and burn…

…when massive talons curl around her body, lifting her up and away from the deadly molten earth. Sable, as a giant eagle, screeches out her rage, but she’s exceedingly gentle as she sets the gnome down on top of a metal platform high above the floor, out of harm's way.

Nere couldn’t do anything to stop it though, because as soon as he’d released the magic he’s slammed into the ground by a roaring, enraged tiefling with a greataxe. Karlach’s first strike alone nearly cuts him in half, and the second severs his spine.

It goes very quiet then. Astarion looks around for Sable, only to spot her still in her eagle form, up on that platform, the gnome tucked under her wing. The vampire, by now, has long since noticed that when she wildshapes, her eyes stay the same color, that beautiful hazel that reminds him of the forests up aboveground. And that color is somehow even more piercing as an enormous bird with talons the size of long knives.

Especially when said enormous bird is glaring at him.

“Sable?” he calls, frowning. “Sable, Nere is dead, darling! You can bring the gnome back-”

But he’s cut off with another shrill screech from his transformed lover. Halsin winces. “I don’t know what you said to her, Astarion, but she’s very angry. She may be a little lost in her eagle form right now.”

“Lost in it?” Astarion says, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“Sometimes, if you wildshape while experiencing heavy emotions, it can be hard to retain…well, yourself,” the elder druid replies, watching as Sable leans down and runs her beak through the gnome’s hair. “Giant eagles are highly territorial and protective over what they decide they must keep safe, and Sable changed while desperate to protect someone.”

Astarion stares up at his shifted lover. “...so how do we get her back?”

“Difficult to say,” Halsin replies. “But I’ll go speak with her.” He glances down at the shorter man, frowning. “She’s made it clear that she doesn’t want to hear from you right now.”

The vampire scowls. “Now, hold on-”

But it’s too late. The elder druid’s form is encased in a golden light, and he launches himself into the air, wings expanding into his own giant eagle shape. He soars up and around, landing next to his younger friend, who’s still gently preening the gnome (who is very confused, but not enough to risk the ire of the giant bird that could eviscerate her rather easily.)

Astarion watches them for a few minutes. Emotion writhes in his stomach, and it’s beginning to annoy him. He’s not guilty over what he said…

…but he doesn’t like Sable being upset with him.

“Hey, Fangs!” Karlach calls. “Locked chest over here!”

“Yes, yes,” he replies, and wrenches his gaze away. He wipes a bead of sweat from his cheek and starts walking towards the chest in question.

This is a much better use of his time than worrying.

///////////////////////////////////////////

It takes almost an hour before there’s a sharp and piercing cry from the eagles above. They swoop back down, and Sable gently releases the gnome onto the grating of the floor. She immediately rushes into her brother's arms, both gnomes sobbing in relief and thanking her as she transforms back.

She gives them a faint smile, before turning to Nere’s corpse. She looks…tired, world-weary, as if she’d like nothing more than to curl up and sleep where she stands.

After the past few weeks, it’s entirely understandable.

She walks over to the corpse, pulling out her dagger, and begins cutting the head off. She ignores the way the decapitation (the slicing of skin and bone, the sound of flesh and tendons tearing) makes her stomach roll, and works diligently to get the head free. She immediately stuffs it into a burlap sack and hangs it off her belt.

Astarion steps over, opening his mouth to ask if she’s all right, but she holds up her hand. “Not now,” is all she says. She glances around, before her eyes find who she’s looking for. “Gale! Let’s get back to the myconids.”

“My pleasure! This place is a little too balmy for my liking,” the wizard says agreeably, and begins to draw a sigil on the ground. Everyone, from her group to the gnomes, quickly steps through as the magical light flares, and they find themselves in the much cooler climes of the myconid’s territory.

Astarion watches, his arms crossed, as Sable delivers Nere’s head to Sovereign Spaw. The look on her face when the mushroom people begin to dance and spew fire-work like spores, the wonder and delight…he finds himself smiling in spite of himself. And as soon as he realizes it, his smile drops.

They set up a camp just outside the village, and they use the waterfall to wash up in. Everyone feels better after sluicing the sweat and blood from their skin, and Gale soon starts cooking. Sable shuffles over to sit near the edge of the rock face they’re on, staring up at the huge, glowing sussur tree. She wants some time alone, but it’s too dangerous to venture very far from camp, so she makes do.

Astarion gets back from his shower, a towel around his shoulders, clean shirt on but unlaced. His washed clothes are quickly hung up to dry on a line he suspends between two nightfronds. He glances around as he runs a comb through his curls, spotting Sable sitting off by herself, her hair clean but not looking brushed. He sighs softly, grabs her brush from her pack, and steps over. “Really, kitten, this is how you get those nasty snarls,” he murmurs, sitting down behind her.

He watches her shoulders tense as he gently starts brushing through her water-darkened locks. “I was going to get to it,” she mutters, pulling her legs to her chest and wrapping her arms around her knees.

“When it’s much too late, I’m sure,” is his reply. “But it’s all right. I’ve got you, darling.”

She doesn’t say anything for a long moment. The silence stretches, the only sounds are the camp behind them and the brush through her hair.

“You’re even quieter than usual,” he finally murmurs. “If you’re angry with me, I’d rather you just say so.”

She sighs. “I’m not angry anymore. Just…disappointed.”

“You know that’s always worse,” he huffs, and if his hands falter a little on her hair, no one says anything.

She snorts. “I hate that you can still make me laugh, even when I’m upset with you.”

“It’s a talent,” he replies, beginning to braid her hair into an intricate plait.

She’s quiet another moment, before sighing. “Why did you suggest what you did? Did you actually think I’d be okay with something like that?”

“I suggested it, darling, because it was the simplest solution to our problem,” he replies, frowning. “Just a little waiting, and there wouldn’t have been any need for a fight. Or, well, you turning into a giant bird and Karlach cutting him in half.” He pauses. “Which was rather impressive, now that I think about it.”

“Sure, the simplest. But also the cruelest,” she says tiredly. “If you know me as well as you think, you know I never would have just left those gnomes to die.”

His lips purse, though his hands stay gentle on her hair. “I do know you, and I know you wouldn’t have left them. But having someone at your back to bring up every option, even the most unsavory, is important.”

“I won’t sacrifice people to make our job easier, Astarion.”

“And I don’t want you to fucking die saving someone I don’t care about!” he suddenly shouts.

Her eyes widen in shock as the words leave his lips. She looks at him over her shoulder, and he seems to realize exactly what he said because what little color he has drains from his face. Neither of them notice how quiet the camp behind them has gotten. “...you…care about me?” Sable whispers.

He stares at her. “You know what I meant.”

“Do I?” Her heart pounds.

“Don’t you?”

“Astarion-”

He stands, suddenly, her hair half-braided. He won’t meet her eyes. His mouth opens as if to say something, before closing with a snap. He turns on his heel and stalks into his tent.

Sable stares after him. The rest of the group sits there, stewing in the awkwardness, until Gale comes back, sighing happily and rubbing a towel through his hair. “Now, that was sorely needed! And right on schedule, dinner’s ready! Who’s hungry?”

“Oh, read the underground cavern, Gale,” Karlach groans, as Sable quickly rushes into her own tent. The others grab their dinner and disperse, leaving the wizard looking confused and concerned.

“What? What did I miss? Everyone? Anyone?”

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #my writing

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datafags · 6 months ago

Text

making myself (sixxy) a gym leader, inspired by @callibones' fantastic post:

After defending Glassport City's museum from Team Primal, you can finally challenge the fifth gym. Despite the beautiful sights you've seen throughout the museum and the rest of the city, you've felt a sense of unease for the entire time, and entering the gym only exponentiates that feeling. The gym is shrouded in darkness, save dim industrial lighting. Grey spikes cover the walls, ceiling, and much of the floor. Blood is splattered across much of the spikes.

"Is... is this the gym?" you nervously ask the attendant.

"Sure is." He hands you a Fresh Water. "This is a Dark gym, by the way. Get your Fighting, Fairy, and Bug types ready, and... watch your step." He grimaces and points to the path ahead, a narrow beam that extends far into the darkness.

You gulp, but steel yourself. Putting one foot in front of the other and keeping your hands out for balance. Eventually, to your relief, the path begins to widen out. By now, the lights are dark and you can see nearly nothing in front of you... and then the music starts. A spotlight lights you up, and another lands on a vertical beam connected to a sort of track on the ceiling. It takes you a second to realize the beam is moving closer to you quite quickly. You dodge out of the way just as a power chord seems to resonate within your very eardrums. Then, you hear a clanging noise from behind you and see that a section of the floor has been folded downwards.

You're now trapped between a rock and a hard place. You run forward, and more beams appear on more tracks. It seems like there are four tracks to worry about, and you'll have to be on one of them. You dodge to the beat of the music being blasted into your ears and run just fast enough to keep up with the floor disappearing behind you. But you quickly run out of breath, and you end up lunging to escape defeat, landing on the floor, not able to get up fast enough to dodge the next note. It shoves you and you tumble down into the spikes, screaming... And they're soft? "Wait, what?"

The music stops and you hear a voice start laughing like crazy. "We got another one, Boss!" Some... body? Thing? Pokemon? Flies down from above and offers you a hand. You take it and it carries you to a platform you hadn't seen before. It appears to be a battle stage, painted shades of red. Your rescuer is a humanoid with long, red, sort of feathery claws, as well as wings and strikingly sharp teeth. "Did you seriously think we would just kill you?" It giggles.

"Well, I mean, y'know, the spikes, and the blood, and the..."

"They're acoustic panels! With red paint on them! How are humans this easy? Whatever. You gotta fight me now 'cause you lost the rhythm game. You were doing pretty good, though."

"Th-thanks?"

After defeating the gym trainer, who has a Pawniard and a Sneasel, it sends you back to where you fell the first time. You start to get in the groove and only fall once more, having to fight one more trainer, before reaching the gym leader.

I stand before you at the other side of the battle stage. I look similar to the gym trainers you saw, but with blue hair and waving my Flying-V guitar above my head to greet you with a big grin on my face. "So, what'd ya think?"

You're out of breath from the exertion. "It was... fun?"

"Hell yeah it was! Other gyms are so... sucky. It's just not the right vibe for a pokemon battle. Push this button and this thing moves. Solve this weird annoying puzzle, whatever. Battles are about exhilaration! Fucking your opponent up! Getting in the zone! I gotta get you prepped for the real thing, man. I know I got in the zone when I was playing, so I'm bringing my all! You ready?" I hold out a Great Ball and the battle begins.

My pokemon are

Absol Lv. 32 (Pursuit, Taunt, Bite, Slash)

Linoone-Galar Lv. 32 (Hone Claws, Take Down, Night Slash, Snarl)

Weavile Lv. 35 (Night Slash, Hone Claws, Metal Claw, Icy Wind)

Assuming you defeat me:

I walk up to you after the battle and say "Sick performance! I swear I could hear the soundtrack to that battle, it really got my blood pumping. Assuming I have blood. I think I do? Anyway, here's the Demon Badge." I hand you a badge modeled after the body of my guitar. "Oh, and there's a shortcut back to the entrance over there." I point to a teleport pad on the ground behind me. "See ya!"

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total-fandom-tr45h · 2 years ago

Text

Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Us

Siren reader x DCA

CW; Inhumane treatment of the reader

Chapter 1

Sun and Moon were not told much about why they had been transferred from the Fazbear Aquarium to the remote facility they were being led through, but they did know that they were needed because some sort of animal caused a horrific incident and was deemed dangerous to humans. So when you can’t use humans, throw the robots to the sharks, apparently.

Sun picked nervously at the cuffs of his jumpsuit, the fabric starting to fray from his actions as Moon walked silently beside him. Following the guard through dimly lit tunnels, they eventually came to a heavy metal door with a scanner to one side and what seemed to be many heavy locks. The guard turned to the bots, a bored expression upon his tired features. “Alright, here we are. Remember, this creature is deadly, so don’t feel bad if you have to use more force with it, although it should be incapacitated. You’ll get access to the door locks if everything goes well, so don’t fuck this up.”

Sun held back his urge to scold the man about his language, gripping his sleeves tightly while Moon just watched the man’s every move. The guard swiped a card across the scanner and it beeped, showing a green light. The doors sprung to life, slowly unlocking and pulling apart, making way for the three to enter.

The room they entered was slightly brighter than the tunnels had been, but not by much. There was nothing particularly exciting about the room, other than the massive tank in the center, a large metal grate covering the top. There was a sparse amount of aquatic plants and corals decorating the sandy bottom of the tank, and it looked like a few small fish darted in between rocks that accompanied the few decorations. The tank itself was twice Sun and Moon's height, and was twice as long as it was tall. The width couldn’t be told from where they were standing, it had to match the length or be slightly smaller, given the size of the room.

Above the tank there was a catwalk, a small flight of stairs leading down to a platform just below the water’s surface. Something resting on the platform caught Sun’s attention- it looked to be some kind of large fish, but his scanners couldn’t identify what species it was, which greatly confused him. It was unmoving on the platform, and there seemed to be remnants of food near it, suggesting it had been fed. “Oh good, it’s still out. Alright, your job is to get up there, get it out of the water, and bring it into the lab.” The guard pointed to a door off to the left, which had a small sign next to it that read ‘Lab’.

The boys nodded before ascending to the catwalk, remaining silent the entire time. Upon reaching the platform Sun let out a gasp, covering his mouth. Lying motionless in the water was a- mermaid? No, it wasn’t like a mermaid from stories, it was more animal-like. A siren?

The upper body was human looking, while the lower portion was a very long tail, probably somewhere around 8ft long with posterior and anterior dorsal fins. At the junction where scales faded into flesh there were two pelvic fins that almost looked like a skirt, matching the look of the rest of the fins. The siren’s chest was obscured by scales, making it look like it was wearing some sort of wrap around top. Three gill slits lay atop of the ribcage, and they fluttered with the slow breathing of the siren. It had claws at the end of its fingers, and a barely visible webbing between each digit. The face was very different from a fairy tale mermaid, that was for sure. While it had hair and mostly normal features, there were a few that stood out. One was the fact that where the ears should be there were two fins that were the same color as the tail fins, and the second were the eyes. The eyes were a bright teal color with a slit-like pupil, and currently they were unfocused, as the siren was in a daze.

Disturbingly, there was some sort of metal collar wrapped around the siren’s neck, and various scratches were visible around the collar. Sun didn’t have time to worry though, as Moon stepped onto the platform and grabbed the siren under the arms, lifting it carefully. Sun scrambled into the few inches of water and picked up the tail, and the two hauled the siren up and out of the water. It twitched at the movement, making a weak hissing noise as its eyes darted around, still hazy and unfocused. “Let’s go.” Moon grumbled, and Sun nodded, walking backwards down the stairs to the lab.

Upon entering the lab the siren began to twitch violently, seeming to be waking up from its dazed state. A scientist ushered the celestial bots over to a very long table that seemed to be custom built for the siren judging by the length. “Set her here, and be fast! We have to restrain her and sedate her quickly.” The man said, seeming almost panicked. The two obliged, laying the siren out on the table as instructed. As soon as they stepped away another scientist pressed a button on a control panel, and mechanical sounds echoed through the room as some unseen machine came to life.

Without warning metal cuffs came up from the table, latching around various points on the siren’s body with loud clanks. Arms, chest, waist, neck, and various points on the tail were restrained with the heavy metal cuffs just in time as the siren began to thrash, hissing and growling. Another scientist approached with something in their hands and the siren snapped at them, causing them to jolt before jumping towards her, pressing something onto her face. She shrieked as the scientist fumbled with something before stepping back, looking relieved. A muzzle had been strapped to the siren’s face, a protective barrier between flesh and sharp teeth.

A needle was pushed into the siren’s arm as she growled, the liquid injected quickly. It didn’t take long for it to start working, and soon the siren’s limited movements got slower until they went still entirely, her eyes half closed and unfocused. “You two wait outside, we’ll let you know when to take her back.” The man who had put the muzzle on instructed, so Sun and Moon quietly left to room, standing outside the door. Sun picked at his sleeves again, shuffling his feet while Moon stared off into space with a disinterested look on his face.

“It’s horrible… how they’re treating her. She’s obviously scared…” Sun muttered, breaking a string off his left cuff. Moon sighed, looking over at his brother.

“Listen, I know you want to care for every creature we encounter, but they said this one was dangerous. Even if it is scared, there’s nothing we can do about it.” Sun grumbled, pulling at another loose thread.

“I know…..” Sun trailed off, thinking.

After about an hour one of the scientists came out of the lab, carrying a tray of blood samples. “Alright, here’s how this is going to go. You two should now have remote access to the controls for the restraints. Wait until everyone has left the room before bringing the siren back to her enclosure, and keep the muzzle ON until she’s in the water. Once she’s in and the muzzle is removed, close and lock the protective grate. You will need to stay to make sure she wakes up properly, and after that come out into the hall. Someone will show you where your designated charging room is.” After speaking the man left, soon followed by the rest of his colleagues.

Sun and Moon entered the lab, and Sun frowned at the sight he saw. Various places on the siren’s skin were scraped, a few scales had obviously been pulled off from various places on the tail, and the restraints seemed to be cutting into her flesh a bit. A notification popped up in the corner of Sun’s vision, letting him know he now had access to the controls and he immediately released the restraints.

The machinery hissed and clanked as the cuffs were released, showing that there were now various lacerations across the siren’s body where each one had been, aside from the neck which had been partially protected by the collar. Sun went to her head, and his fingers twitched, wanting to take the muzzle off right then and there but he had to follow orders. He gently picked up the siren’s upper half while Moon grabbed her tail, and they carried her limp body out of the lab and back to the platform of the enclosure. They set her down in the water and Moon stepped out, allowing Sun to remove the muzzle.

The muzzle had been strapped so tightly that there were marks where the straps and cage had been, and Sun grimaced at the sight, rubbing them gently without thinking as his previous care protocol that had been suppressed forced its way out. “Sun, c’mon.” Moon snapped Sun out of his thoughts and the solar animatronic jerked his hand back, whispering an apology to the siren before scrambling out of the water and up onto the catwalk. Moon activated something wirelessly, and a scraping metal sound filled the room as a metal grate appeared from under the catwalk and began to cover the tank, locking the siren in. Once the grate was fully over the tank Moon sat down, crossing his legs and placing an elbow on his knee, resting his head in his palm.

Sun followed suit, keeping an eye on the siren as he sat, fiddling with the muzzle he still held in his hands. After a few minutes the siren began to stir, her eyes still hazy as she looked around and began chirping and clicking, sounding almost like a dolphin or beluga whale. When she got no response she repeated the sounds, confusion on her face. As she became more aware of her surroundings, she stopped calling out, as if she remembered she was alone. That hurt for Sun to watch; she had been trying to find others of her kind in her sedated confusion. The siren then spotted Sun and Moon, letting out a low growl as she backed off the platform into the open water, eyes trained on the two animatronics.

The boys remained perfectly still as she seemed to be observing them for suspicious activity. The siren started when Moon moved to stand and she darted into the depths of the tank, swimming quickly over to a small cave that was hidden from the rest of the room by coral. That was good, at least they gave her some sort of place where she could feel safe. Sun sighed and stood up, following Moon as he left the catwalk and headed towards the door. Sun made a detour to the lab, putting the muzzle on the <em>horrible</em> table, shuddering with disgust before joining his brother to exit the room.

There was a woman waiting outside for them, and she gave a sheepish smile as they exited, the door hissing shut behind them. “You must be the wranglers! I’m Lisa, I’ll be showing you where your room is.” She said a little excitedly, which caught both bots off guard. “Before I do that, what are your names? I’m going to be in charge of your maintenance, so I wanted to know if you had something you prefer to be called by.” Sun and Moon blinked, looking at each other before looking back at Lisa. She was treating them like they were people, not just mindless robots. It was nice.

Sun spoke first. “I’m Sun, and this is my brother Moon.” He gestured to the lunar bot when he said his name and Lisa nodded, seeming to take a mental note.

“Very fitting names, I like it! Alright Sun and Moon, if you follow me I’ll show you the way to your room!” She said before turning around, facing the opposite way they had come from to continue down the poorly lit tunnel. The two followed the woman down the hall a ways until she came to another door, this one still being metal but not as heavy or tightly locked as the one to the siren’s enclosure. Lisa opened the door with a flourish, and stepped into the room. “Ta-da! This is where you boys will be living from now on. The institute needs you as close as possible to the siren’s room, in case of an emergency. If there’s anything you’d like to add to the room to make you guys feel more at home, just ask me and I’ll get what I can.”

The room was a decent size, certainly bigger then their room above the daycare at the pizzaplex had been. The walls were surprisingly not cement but drywall, painted a boring grey color that matched the cement floor. There were two beds, one on either side of the room, as well as two tables with chairs, lamps, and nightstands. There were many outlets on the walls, in various places for easy accessibility. Sun walked over to one of the beds and sat on it, the metal frame creaking a little as it got used to the new weight. Oddly enough, the beds seemed to be the right size for them, as if they were custom made to accommodate their tall frames. “I think we’re good for now, thank you Ms. Lisa.” Sun said, forcing a small smile on his face as Moon walked to the table on the opposite side of the room from Sun and pulled out the chair, sitting down.

The woman nodded then walked to the door, pausing on the threshold to turn around. “Oh, there are pens, pencils and paper in the drawers of each nightstand, just in case you guys get bored. And before I forget, you guys are allowed to explore the tunnels, just don’t go into restricted rooms. You shouldn’t be able to get in them, but I’m obligated to give you that warning. Curfew is 11pm. Have a good night, and again let me know if you want anything to spruce this place up. It’s awfully gloomy.” She then left, closing the door behind her.

“This is way better than the daycare or the aquarium, and it seems a little suspicious.” Moon remarked, steepling his fingers together as his elbows rested on his knees. “Why are we being treated so nicely? There’s something we don’t know going on here.”

Sun rolled his eyes, reaching into the nightstand to grab a pencil and some paper before walking to his table, plopping down in the chair. “Don’t think too much about it, Moon. At least they aren’t treating us like dumb robots.” He muttered as he started to draw. He had been programmed to draw like a child when coloring with the kids in the daycare, but in actuality he was an incredible artist. He began to sketch the siren, using a photo he had taken as she was waking up from sedation as reference.

“Whatever.” Moon grumbled, getting up from the chair to flop on his bed, laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling.

Sun couldn’t help but feel pity for the siren. She was treated like some terrible creature who was aggressive on purpose, but when Sun watched her vitals as she woke up from sedation, she seemed to be more scared than anything. The siren was acting aggressively as a defense mechanism. “Poor thing… she doesn’t deserve to be treated that way…” Sun muttered, continuing his drawing.

“Poor thing my ass. She killed and ate someone, Sun.”

Sun dropped his pencil, spinning in his chair to face his brother. “What?! What do you mean she ATE someone?!”

Moon sat up, his faceplate rotating once. “I looked at the incident reports they have on file. The reason we were brought in is because that siren killed someone and ate part of their body.”

Sun’s whole body shook, images of mangled corpses flashing through his thoughts. Moon spoke again, snapping Sun out of the depressing tangent he was going off on. “The guy left the grate on top of the tank open, so he had it coming for being so careless. After the incident they put on a collar that can send a paralyzing jolt of energy through the siren’s body. It seems the voltage can be adjusted though…” Moon trailed off, and Sun turned back to his paper, staring at the half drawn picture of the siren.

He furrowed his brows, frowning. So what if she killed someone and ate them? She was in a place she didn’t belong, having horrible tests done to her, and she was probably incredibly scared. Sun slammed his hands down on the table and stood, a look of determination on his face. “I am going to show her that not everything is horrible.”

Moon tilted his head in curiosity, snickering in doubt. “And how are you gonna do that, Sunny? That thing probably doesn’t understand human language.”

Sun snapped his head around to glare at his brother, his body shortly following suit as he stepped away from the table. “You don’t know that, Moon. She could be able to perfectly understand every word ever said to her, and nobody would know because they haven’t bothered to care! No tests have been done to see what her intelligence level is.” Sun had skimmed through the testing records, only finding blood, DNA, and other types of tests involving her body, but not her mind.

“I am going to become her friend, and hopefully I’ll be able to help her feel a little more at ease.” Sun walked over to the door, flinging it open as Moon groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Go ahead, do whatever. I’m not gonna stop ya, but don’t do anything that’ll get you in trouble. I don’t think I could move her by myself.” Sun just waved off Moon’s warning as he stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him. With determination and confidence in his every step Sun walked the short distance to the siren’s enclosure room, pausing for a moment in front of the door. Lisa didn’t say he couldn’t go back in, only that he couldn’t go into areas he didn’t have access to, and he knew he now had access to this room.

Taking in a deep breath he didn’t need, Sun waved his palm across the scanner, fearing it wouldn’t. He let out a sigh of relief when the scanner beeped and the light turned green, and the doors opened for him.

The room was eerily silent, except for the faint hum of a water filtration system. The siren had been swimming in circles when he entered, and as soon as she noticed Sun she hid behind some rocks, keeping a close eye on him. Sun smiled at her, slowly walking to the stairs leading up to the catwalk. The siren’s eyes watched his every move, but she didn’t move from her spot, opting to just observe what he did.

Upon reaching the catwalk Sun headed to the platform, sitting on the second to last step, putting his feet into the water on the platform. “I’m not here to hurt you, I promise. I just want to be your friend.” He said in a soothing, soft voice, watching the siren’s body language and vitals. Her heart was beating fast, likely in fear as she watched him just sit there.

After what felt like an eternity the siren moved, approaching Sun slowly. He moved his head slightly to see her better, which caused her to dart back to her hiding spot. Sun sighed, and stayed perfectly still to wait for her to approach again. He hummed quietly, and soon enough the siren began approaching again. “Hello.” Sun said softly, which caused the siren to stop, but not retreat.

She eyed Sun for a moment before finally coming up to the platform, sticking the top half of her head and face above the water. She tentatively got closer until she was only a couple feet away from Sun’s feet (pun intended). Sun watched as the siren carefully reached out with a finger to- poke his boot covered foot. She snapped her arm back quickly as if she had been burned, but didn’t swim away. Sun smiled at her actions, and couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “It’s okay, I won’t do anything to hurt you.” He said reassuringly, hoping she understood what he was saying.

It seemed she did understand him, as she brought her entire head above the surface of the water, feeling a little more confident. Sun cheered internally at the progress, and decided to try and go further by slowly bending over to lower his hand through the grate, close to the water. The siren hesitated for a moment before reaching out, grazing the surface of his hand with her claws. Upon seeing that he didn’t scream or pull away, she gently grabbed his hand in both of hers, being careful as she turned it over, trailing the pads of her fingers along the seams of Sun’s joints and the little squishy pads on his hands that helped him detect pressure more accurately.

The feeling of the siren’s fingers ghosting across his palm made Sun giggle, his fingers twitching. The siren let go of his hand quickly and backed up, pulling her hands to her chest and looking up at Sun as if she expected some form of punishment. If Sun had a real heart, it would be aching. “It’s okay, you didn’t do anything wrong! It just felt ticklish.” He reassured the siren, not sure if she would understand what being ticklish is.

Luckily she did seem to understand, as she got closer once again and grabbed his hand, prodding at the palm pad gently before trailing up to his wrist joint, tracing the seams. Keeping his hand still, Sun lowered himself down onto the bottom step, straightening his legs out a bit so they weren’t pushed up into his chest. The siren didn’t seem to pay attention to his movements as she was inspecting his wrist, moving his hand up, down, and in circular motions. He stretched his arm closer to her, startling her and causing her to snap her head to look in his direction, fear and worry on her face.

“Sorry, sorry! I just thought you’d wanna be able to check out more of my arm.” He explained, feeling bad that he scared her. The siren looked relieved as she nodded before focusing her attention back on Sun’s hand. She pushed his sleeve up on his arm, following the seams of his plating and seeming to marvel at the silicone covering, poking at it and watching it give under the pressure of her hands only to go back to normal when she removed them. Sun got an idea, and he turned his hand so his palm faced her, fingers splayed apart. The siren looked at him in confusion, then lifted one of her hands to match their palms together.

Her clawed hand was dwarfed by his hand, and this seemed to intrigue her as she blinked rapidly, scooting her hand around against his as if to try and make it fit. Sun laughed at her antics, and the siren looked at him, giving him-

A smile.

It was a small, shy smile, but a smile nonetheless. Looking at the time, Sun decided he had been there long enough for the day. He took his hand from the siren, moving to stand up as she watched him, tilting her head in curiosity. “Sorry, but I have to go. I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?” He offered her a small smile, and she seemed to ponder his words for a moment before nodding. “Alright, See y-”

Before he could finish the siren dove back beneath the surface of the water, swimming into her cave. Sun sighed and shook the water off his boots before heading down off the catwalk. When he got to the doors he stopped and turned to see the siren watching him from the coral hiding the cave entrance. He gave her a wave, and she looked confused before reciprocating.

With a sigh Sun left the room, watching the door lock behind him before heading back to he and Moon’s room. Moon looked up from his bed when Sun entered, and he lifted a brow. “So, how did it go?”

Sun smiled, kicking off his wet boots before sitting on his bed. “It went pretty well, I think she trusts me! Well, at least a little.”

Moon sat up to face his brother and tilted his head, actually curious now. “And what makes you think that?”

Sun held out his hand palm up, tracing along his fingers the same way the siren had. “She actually came up to me and sat there messing with my hand like this. She seemed a bit confused but curious.”

Moon nodded, humming softly. “Makes sense, she’s probably never seen an animatronic before. Did she seem to understand anything you said?”

Sun nodded enthusiastically, his rays doing a spin around his head. “Yes, she did!! She even responded to me, even though it was only nodding. But still, that proves she’s not just a dumb animal! She’s probably more human than those scientists think.”

Moon nodded again, looking rather impressed. “Huh, that’s pretty cool…”

Sun gasped, leaning forward to snatch his brother’s hand, holding it while grinning excitedly. “You should come with me tomorrow! That way, you can see just how much she understands. If I were to tell anyone by myself they would probably brush me off, but if both of us see it and record it, then they’ll have to believe us!”

Moon rubbed the back of his head, looking to the side. “I dunno Sun, that seems a little ambitious. They could say we made a fake video or something…” Sun tutted, letting go of his hand to reach out and flick Moon’s forehead.

“Don’t be a Negative Nancy, Moony. I know you’ll change your mind once you see it happen.” Sun’s rays spun around his head once more before he stood, heading back to the table and sitting down to finish his drawing.

“Mmmmhh, we’ll see…” Moon muttered before laying back down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

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

You swam in circles aimlessly around your tank, thinking back to the interaction you had just a few minutes ago. A strange metal creature with pointy things coming out of their head had come to you, sitting at the platform and saying they wanted to be your friend, which confused you. You had killed someone and ate them, why would they want to be friends with you? That was something you would just have to silently ponder, as you really had no way to communicate with them. They didn’t seem to understand when you spoke, which was frustrating to you.

But, they had promised to return tomorrow, which made you smile to yourself as you continued to swim.

A friend.

Your friend.

#Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Us #daycare attendant au #daycare attendant x reader #ghostis aus #ghostis fanfics #siren au

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