#and that is where I was sent when I visited the page it was said to be from while on image search

[cameronspecial]

how about we go a lil angsty? the reader hadn’t yet told him about her being pregnant bcs she remembers Drew once said he doesnt know if he wants to be a dad and so she tried to bring the topic up with hypothetical questions and his answers not exactly the thing she wanted to hear so she went all silent and pulled herself away and stuff.

I dont wanna give it away, so please you decide the ending..either they communicate and Dad!Rafe rise or…

I Want This

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Abortions and Miscommunication

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

Well… She doesn’t know what she expected the results to be, but this is definitely an answer. Y/N doesn’t even think she can focus on the opinion she has of this situation because all she can think about is Drew’s.

———

“Awww, Babe, look at this pic of Lils that Mac sent me,” he gushed, holding his phone up to his fiancée. She looked up from her laptop, “So cute. Ugh, I miss them so much. I mean look at those little baby rolls. I just want to cuddle the cutie.” He smiled and brought her head under the crook of his neck. “I know. We have to visit them soon. I’m so glad I have a niece. It means I can be the fun uncle forever and never have to be a dad,” he mindlessly thought out loud, going back to scrolling on his phone. This caused her to freeze; they never talked about having kids, but he was so good with them that she assumed he would want them. She should’ve asked him about it because she wanted them. She didn’t though. Kids were important to her and so was Drew. She wasn’t ready to cause a rift in their relationship because of something small. 

———

Staring at the positive pregnancy test, she has to figure out a way to gauge how he would feel about it before actually telling him the truth. Once she knows how he feels, it will help her decide how she wants to feel about it seeing that if they are on the opposite page, then she would have to make a difficult decision. She shoves the positive tests into the box and hides them in her makeup drawer. He never goes looking there. She exits the bathroom, lets out a deep breath, and heads to the kitchen to start getting lunch ready. Drew is coming home from filming in Morocco later today. The music blasting through the speakers makes her unaware of the new presence in the house. He smiles at the dancing silhouette cutting potatoes. His hand drops over her eyes and she sets the knife down with a grin. Her arms wrap around her neck to bring him down towards her. This allows her to pepper his face with kisses. “Hey, you weren’t supposed to be back until tonight,” she notices, turning the music off. His hand rests on her hip, “I was, but I was offered an early flight and I couldn’t say no to seeing my girl early. I missed you and I love you.” She sinks into his hold. “I missed and love you too.”

The couple spend the next half an hour cooking together before settling themselves at the dining room table. Since they talked to each other throughout cooking, silence falls over them. A chime comes from his phone and he checks it to see a text from his sister. “Mac is planning on coming down with Lils and my mom soon. They can stay in the guest room, right?” Drew confirms, reading over the text again. She nods, “Yeah, I’ll get it ready over the weekend and buy one of those travelling crib things for Lils. It is going to be fun to have a baby around the house. The guest room would make a nice baby room in the future. It has nice big windows and the closet is the perfect size.” The chuckle that comes out of his mouth drops her stomach into a furnace. 

“What’s so funny?” she questions. He shrugs, “Not the babysitting part. They could both use a break and I will never say no to spending time with my niece. It’s just the thought of having to turn the guest room into a baby room is funny.” 

“Oh, why?”

“I don’t know. It’s a guest room. I mean where would our family stay when they come over?” 

“Yeah, where would they stay?”

She should probably ask if he meant he can’t imagine the room as a baby room right now or if it was a forever thought; however, she is scared of the answer she is going to get so she shuts down the conversation. They sit in a new tension-filled silence that he pretends he can’t feel. 

———

After lunch, Y/N retreats to the backyard to swing in the hammock. This tells him that she needs some space and he knows she is upset when she is still outside at eleven p.m. The friction of the patio door sliding against each other makes her turn to him. She doesn’t acknowledge his presence, waiting for him to say something. He places the plate of pasta he made for dinner onto the side table beside the hammock. “I found the pregnancy tests,” he states, bringing one of the patio chairs close to her. She freezes and sits up. Her legs swing over the fabric to face him, “How?” “Maddie helped me pick out clay pot Moroccan lipstick for you and I wanted to surprise you with it. I was going to hide it in your drawer…” he explains, eyes falling to his fingers and trailing off at the end. Her head moves up and down. Her thoughts are moving around her head a thousand miles a second. He is going to break up with her. He is going to make her have an abortion. Or worse. He is going to make her choose between the baby or him on the spot. 

He grows nervous when she doesn’t say anything and his suspicions are confirmed. He understands why she is unsure about talking to him about this. The way he has spoken about having a baby in the past could’ve given her the wrong idea. He hesitantly reaches to place a hand on hers and does it when she doesn’t shy away. “I want you to know that the decision about what we do with the baby is up to you and I will be at your side during the whole process,” he assures. Her confusion causes tears to crop up in her eyes, “You don’t want the baby though. I know that, so if you are going to break up with me because I do, then just do it. But making me have to choose is kinda cruel.” His heart squeezes, hating that his words aren’t coming out as he means them to be. His head shakes like crazy and he sits beside her. He brings her head against his chest, “Babe, I don’t want to break up with you. I want to have this baby with you too.”

“You want the baby? Then how come you don’t think the guest room would be a good baby room?”

“Because my office would be a better one. The windows aren’t too big so it won’t wake the baby up in the morning and the closet there is even bigger, so when they get older they can have as many clothes as their heart desires.”

“Okay, you are right… What about when you said you want to be an uncle forever and never be a dad?”

“Honestly, I never really thought I would want to be a dad. I was content with being an uncle, but, Babe, when I found that pregnancy test, all I could think about was how happy I was to be bringing a child into the world with the most amazing woman in the world and I couldn’t wait to raise them with you.”

She leans back and rests a warm palm on his cheeks, trying to hold back her tears. “So you want to have this baby?” she verifies. He kisses the tears away, “I want this, Babe. I promise. We are going to do this. Together.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

[poisonlove]

la maledizione degli Addams²

Pairing: wednesday Addams X reader

Wednesday had been avoiding you, deliberately ignoring the itch she felt every time you were near, focusing solely on her investigation. Though it pained her to avoid the deep connection with her soulmate, her determination to solve the mysteries surrounding her took precedence over any emotion. Her investigations had paid off: she had discovered a secret library that led her to the book with the missing page about Rowan (luckily after the Poe Cup), and she had followed her leads into the woods during Outreach Day, finding the lair of the monster and planning to visit it with Eugene.

But unfortunately Enid had dragged her to the Raven.

Wednesday had chosen to use Tyler as a scapegoat. The normal boy, attracted to her, represented a useful resource for her goals. She knew she could exploit his interest to focus on her investigations while distancing herself from Galpin.

But when she saw Eugene with his backpack ready for their excursion, a pressure tightened in her chest. The disappointment on Eugene’s face was palpable, an expression that struck Wednesday in an unexpected way.

"Don’t go into the woods," she told him, her black eyes fixed on him with an intensity that sent chills down his spine.

"We'll go after the party. Stay close" she added.

At the entrance to the ballroom, the itch she had felt grew more intense. Without thinking her eyes began to search for you among the crowd. There you were. A burning fire ignited inside her and in an involuntary gesture she clenched her jaw, producing a crack that revealed her growing frustration. The sight of Yoko, your dance partner, only fueled her irritation.

Damn curse.

The Addams curse that she had always considered both a blessing and a burden now amplified her feelings, making each moment even more painful.

The image of Y/N laughing and enjoying herself with Yoko struck her like a blow to the heart. A pang of pain spread through her chest as if her soul was being torn apart. Every smile from Y/N, every glance exchanged with Yoko felt like a mortal wound.

Wednesday found herself caught in a tearing conflict: on one side was her untamed nature pushing her to keep her distance; on the other an overwhelming desire to get closer, to reconnect with you even if it meant facing vulnerability.

Her gaze involuntarily shifted to Yoko.

The vampire with her charming smile and relaxed demeanor only amplified Wednesday's frustration.

"Damn it," she thought as her hands tightened around Tyler's arm. She wanted to run away but she knew she couldn’t. Her soulmate was there and despite everything, the urge to move closer was undeniable.

Yoko chuckled softly as she noticed how sparks were crackling around your body. You could control lightning. Likely due to the intensity of Wednesday’s gaze, Y/N turned away from Yoko and directed her eyes in Wednesday's direction. By some twist of fate, you were the only two girls in the entire school wearing black dresses at a party where white was the required attire.

Enid's figure suddenly appeared at the entrance, blocking Wednesday’s view of you.

Damn.

"Wednesday! Oh my God, you look amazing!" the blonde exclaimed, bubbling with excitement. Enid was wearing a beautiful white dress with a touch of purple makeup on her face.

Strange.

Wednesday’s gaze shifted to the girl’s date.

"Strange choice for your date," she murmured in a flat voice. Her eyes shot a cold glare at the mayor's son, the leader of the trio that had tried to attack her twice.

The boy shuddered.

"Oh... he came to make his ex jealous, and I wanted to make Ajax jealous," Enid said with a shrug.

Her eyes darted to Tyler.

"Tyler! Are you Wednesday's date?" she asked in surprise, her blue eyes studying her roommate with intensity. "Yeah," the normal boy scratched his head, clearly embarrassed.

"I’m going to get a drink," the curly-haired boy added, leaving her alone with Enid.

"You know, I thought you’d come with Y/N," the blonde said casually, "You two... I don’t know... have great chemistry," she added with a small smile.

A shiver ran down Wednesday’s spine at the mention of your name.

"It seems to me she's having fun with Yoko," Addams murmured with venom, her eyes scanning toward your figure.

Despite the discomfort that enveloped her Wednesday launched into the dance. Her movements were distinct, rigid yet fluid, her hands tracing sinuous precise gestures, her steps seemingly defying the rhythm of the music itself. But during one of those turns her hand accidentally brushed against another’s.

As soon as the fingers touched a jolt of energy shot through her body like thousands of electric shocks sliding across her skin, like invisible spiders crawling in her stomach leaving her paralyzed for a moment. Her breath caught in her throat and her head tilted back in an almost unnatural movement, her eyes wide open toward the ceiling.

A vision struck her with the force of lightning.

The world shattered around her, the party lights vanishing and transforming into blinding flashes. Screams and distant voices echoed in her ears overlapping in an indistinguishable chaos. Among the flashes she glimpsed Crackstone, his menacing figure looming like an impending shadow. Then, like a distorted image, a wedding: black dahlias, a black dress, hands united in an eternal bond all enveloped in a disturbing aura.

Wednesday's body was as rigid as a tightly drawn string, her hands stiff by her sides, every muscle tensed under her pale skin. Her face was twisted in an expression of pure terror as her breath came out in ragged gasps.

And then, everything faded.

The vision dissolved leaving her shaken and trembling, her head still thrown back. Slowly, she tilted forward again as her eyes refocused on the ballroom now again wrapped in the dim lights and chaotic movements of their schoolmates. But the sensation of disorientation persisted, like an echo of the vision that still throbbed in her temples.

She felt something warm on her shoulders and realized it was your hands, steady and sure, supporting her. You had moved closer during her moment of weakness, your Y/C eyes fixed on her with a mixture of concern and alarm. Your expression was tense, your breath quick.

The curse.

Her body seemed unresponsive for a moment, her legs still unsteady. She felt a strange, dark current flowing between the two of you, as if physical contact had been the catalyst for a force that had awakened within her.

"Are you okay? It looked like a vision," you asked, your voice filled with genuine concern. Your tone was low, meant only for her, as you tried to understand what had happened.

Wednesday took a deep breath trying to regain control over the turmoil inside her, but she clearly felt the effects of the curse coursing through her veins. An invisible tension tightened her chest, pulling her forward, almost as if she were compelled to move closer to you. She took a step forward closing the distance between you and her gaze locked determinedly onto yours.

"Yes... I was dancing with Tyler... then I had a vision," Wednesday said in a flat tone, her dark eyes tracing every detail of your face trying to grasp something she couldn’t quite understand.

"Tyler left," you responded, your voice breaking slightly as if admitting that truth cost you more than you wanted to show. Then you clenched your jaw, your expression hardening and in that moment Wednesday swore she saw a flash behind your irises, a reflection that seemed to conceal a storm.

A question crossed her mind like lightning: were you jealous?

Without thinking Wednesday’s hands moved sliding from your shoulders to encircle your neck. The skin beneath her fingers was warm and she felt a shiver that shook her from within like a fire igniting in her chest and consuming her from the inside. She felt... overwhelmed, as if the tide of sensations enveloping her was pulling her underwater leaving her breathless. Her heart pounded in a way she had never experienced before, a frantic and unfamiliar rhythm that muddled her thoughts.

The itch that had overwhelmed her before was gone.

Instead a heat consumed her and pushed her closer to you, as if the simple touch of her hands on your skin was the only thing keeping her upright.

Maybe it's because we touched? she thought for a moment, her mind tangled between logic and instinct searching for an explanation.

"Wednesday, I..." you began, your voice hesitant, almost fearful, as if you were afraid of the reaction you might provoke.

At the mention of her name on your lips Wednesday barely stifled a moan, a low sound escaping from her throat and echoing deeply in her chest. It was as if the sound of her name spoken by you held a different weight, an intensity that made her bones vibrate and burned inside her. Every fiber of her being sensed that this was different, that there was something strange and unstoppable between the two of you, a force she couldn’t fully understand but could not ignore.

"Cara mia" Wednesday whispered, her words almost too intimate, laced with a subtle darkness that sent a shiver through you. Her hands around your neck tightened pulling you closer with a determined hungry strength.

Your cheeks flushed red, a blush that Wednesday watched with hungry eyes.

For a moment the world around you seems to disappear, dissolving into the silence that exists only between the heavy breaths that bind you together. Her mind is overtaken by a primal desire and all she wants is to taste your lips, to feel the warmth of your mouth on hers. She realizes that she wants to consume you whole as if that were the only way to quell the fire burning inside her, as if that were the only way to make you hers.

For the first time she understands what drove her parents toward each other with such intensity. Why Gomez could never stay away from Morticia, why every gesture between them seemed to almost defy the rules of propriety with their passion. But that thought blends with something else, a deep disgust for herself, for how quickly she has yielded to this impulse abandoning her rigidity and her ideals just because of a single touch from you.

Just as this internal struggle rages, a cold drop hits your cheek followed by another that slides down your nose tracing a scarlet path. The sensation of something wet and viscous on your face breaks the moment and when you look up, a red rain begins to fall, like blood pouring from the ceiling, staining your faces and clothes.

Chaos erupts around you.

The other students begin to scream, pushing against each other in a desperate attempt to escape the ballroom. Bodies collide and stumble in a frantic rush, slipping on the floor now covered in blood. The lights flicker on and off in a pulsing rhythm amplifying the panic.

But you remain still, trapped under Wednesday's gaze, her lips curling into a wicked smile. The urge to run her tongue along your cheek to taste you mixed with the blood overwhelms her.

Suddenly a body crashes into her, shoving her violently to the side. Wednesday whirls around, muscles tense, fists clenched ready to retaliate against the intruder. But right in that moment her gaze goes lank and another vision seizes her, ragging her into a spiral of confused and painful images.

She sees red boots stepping on the ground, staining themselves with the dark red that flows like a river. And then a familiar face distorted by the pain caused by the beast's attack:

Eugene.

[queenie-avenue]

Hii! 🌟

So..i want ask for request about CEO ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

What if one day reader is caught sketching the CEO in some fancy clothes? Would he like to wear this for reader?

(Thank you in advance! Hope u have really good day 👁️〰���👁️)

/// sorry for my English kinda bad at grammar (ง’̀-‘́)ง

He'll wear anything you make.

💌 ⤻ THE CEO, Adrian Houde

—> he's your muse, you're his obsession.

⤻ reader is gender neutral, reader has a crush on Adrian, obsessive behaviour, posessive thoughts, snooping, fluff, red flags but they aren't so apparent.

notes: i altered the prompt a bit, i hope you don't mind but thank you for the ask! i'm glad you like adrian as much as i do. feel free to send in more asks! love the cute emoticons btw <3 did not proofread, we die like men.

Adrian strolled about the fashion department, his hands raking across the abandoned tables now that everyone had headed home. He rolled up his sleeves to check the time as he walked past the messy and cluttered desks, the heels of his shoes clacking against the floor.

One might ask, what was the CEO of the company doing so late at the fashion department? Everyone had gone home, clocking off early for the holidays — even the ever-busy fashion team — except him. His blue eyes raked across the table as he searched for your table, and finally, he came across it and smiled.

You didn't have a table before, you cramped alongside the lower level employees but well, Adrian pulled some strings here and there for you to get your own table.

It also made it easier for him to look through your belongings.

"Hm?" He hummed when he saw an unfamiliar book on the table. He had memorised every detail of your table, to the point where he knew where you put your emergency snacks — sometimes even refilling them for you anonymously — but this sketchbook was new.

He knew it was wrong to sneak into someone's belongings, and his grandmother would no doubt absolutely pulverise him for such ungentlemanly actions but you already belonged to him. You didn't, but you would soon.

He was slowly cracking you down, he knew. Adrian could still see the blush on your face when you were caught staring at him for too long.

His nimble hands reached for the book and flipped through them. The pages crinkling in his hands as he gazed at all of the different designs. His eyes slowly widened as he recognised the dimples on the model's face, the tousled blonde hair, the dashing pale blue eyes, and the silhouettes you had crafted just for him. The suits, some dresses, some eccentric, some more subdued, and multiple designs made with styles he had a penchant for.

He smiled, knowing that you had to have been observing him rather closely to be able to craft such flattering outfits for him.

"Hah," he breathed out, feeling his cheeks heat up. "You're driving me crazy." He whispered to himself as he felt his entire body grow hot.

He continued to flip through the pages, taking in the sight of him as your muse. He almost wanted to hop in his car and drive off to your house now just to kiss you but he had to restrain himself.

He was a gentleman; even if he snuck into your belongings. He would wait for a while more. His grandmother had always said that a prolonged courting period was needed, filled with flowers, chocolates, gifts, and, of course, polite flirting.

He placed the book on the floor and snapped a few pictures, making sure to make it look accidental, like he had just stumbled across it and sent it to you.

Adrian. H: Stumbled across a cute little thing on the way to a late-night meeting. Mind if I get it privately made? I'd love to wear something you made.

He smirked, knowing that you would fluster. He just wished you were here just so he could see colour fill your face. He made a note to visit the fashion department during lunchtime just to tease you further. Maybe he'd even wear something akin to your designs tomorrow.

He just wanted to get this courting phase over so he could wrap you in his arms like a snake and never let go.

Your sketchbook was practically an invitation for him to do so.

[moonlitstoriess]

Across the Universe-ch.12 (Fenrys x Reader)

Summary: Y/n has everything she needs in life. A family, friends, a safe place she calls home and most importantly a male whom she loves. What happens when it all changes when Y/n finds out about the betrayal of her lover and her so called family? Well, ending up in Terrasen and in queen Aelin's court was not what she expected but what she will need to start her new journey full of surprises.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, Minors dni, mentions of trauma, SA, mentions of violence.

See masterlist

Y/n's heart raced as she watched Lucien standing before her, clutching the Book of Breathings like a lifeline. His presence felt surreal, almost like a figment of her imagination materializing in the midst of a crowded room. She could hardly believe her eyes; Lucien, battered and weary, was standing in front of her.

Lysandra closed the door behind them, sealing off the sounds of the ball and leaving the room in a hushed anticipation, y/n's focus remaining fixed on Lucien.

"Lucien," she murmured, her voice a mix of disbelief and concern. "How did you manage to come here? And what happened to you?"

Lucien's gaze flickered around the room once more before settling on Y/n's face, his expression haunted yet determined. "It's a long story," he began, his voice tinged with weariness. "But I had to find you. The Book led me here."

"The Book led you?" Y/n repeated, her mind racing with questions. 

Aedion wordlessly tapped Lucien on the shoulder, making the redhead turn around to see him pointing at a chair to sit while Elide filled a cup with water from the table.

After he sat down and drank the water, they gave him a moment to gather his thoughts. After a minute, Lucien sighed and began speaking, "I came to Velaris for a monthly visit,"

"The one where you visit for a week and we cause every kind of chaos?"

Lucien smiled slightly at his long-time friend as he said, "Yes, imagine the shock on my face when I found out you were gone, completely disappeared thanks to this book. Everyone was going absolutely crazy. Rhys had ordered every priestess at the library to search for ways to bring you back, even contacted Thesan to order his librariens in Dawn to search for any kind of information,"

He took another sip of his water before continuing, "Az, I don't even know, y/n he- he was just....mad like he isn't in a right state of mind at all because of your disappearance-"

Y/n scoffed, "Yeah, right. Seems like I had to fucking go through worlds for him to feel anything for me-"

Lucien looked at her with a mixture of many different emotions, "Y/n, I don't know what happened between you two but Az has completely lost his mind. Anyways, that we can discuss later, the point is....when I went to Amren's house to see her progress with this book because I was obviously very concerned for you, she told me she can't seem to get past a spell on the book, its like this ancient thing isn't allowing her to break through it. So I sat by her side and decided to see what I can do to help but....."

"But...?" y/n urged, her eyes growing more curious and yet warm towards the male, her close friend, sitting in front of her.

Lucien looked down at his hands that were still clutching the book, "But, then Rhys called Amren to the house, saying Thesan sent an ancient text related to this but the language was too old for any of them to understand. She told me to stay here and guard the book, to not listen to its nonsense words and she will be back soon. Once she left, at first everything was fine but then.....then it just started speaking, hissing and whispering, calling me to it, urging me to open and flip its pages. I tried, I really tried to ignore it but.....I caved in and then when I was close enough and my fingers had opened the book, it was like.......like....."

"Like you were stuck in one place and couldn't move. Like your body had a mind of its own." Y/n finished his sentence for him, seemingly remembering her own experience with the book.

Lucien once again lifted his head, looking up at her, "Yes! Yes, exactly! And then the next thing I knew, everything around me was disappearing, the book as well and then it was just darkness before a voice whispered to me that 'you are home now, fire prince' and I woke up in a grassy hill, surrounded by...well, an expanse of greenery."

Before anyone could interfere with their questions, y/n held up her hand, eyes wide and calculating as realization slowly dawned upon her.

"I heard the same exact thing when I ended up here. The book also led me here in the same exact way."

Dorian was the one who seemingly caught up to her trail, adding "While everyone in your world is having troubles getting here, breaking through the books spells...."

Lysandra continued next, stepping forward to stand beside the king, eyes wide, "Y/n and you were sent here by the book itself. We found out later on that y/n was a witch and had a connection to the gates, her mother being the oldest and strongest witch to ever live, Elara."

A few gasps were heard around the room but the shifter just shook her head, "We can discuss that later, what I mean now is that we found out y/n had a purpose here and that's why the book sent her, that she somehow was needed to be here, in Erilea, in Terrasen. And now, you were sent here by the book and seemingly it came with you this time. What could your purpose be, prince?"

Lucien just furrowed his brows and shook his head while Yrene came forward, Chaol right beside her, one hand on his sword, as she gently kneeled beside the redhead and asked softly, "May I....may I have the book please?"

Lucien hesitated, looking towards y/n to see whether or not he should trust the woman. Once he saw her nod, he turned his head back at the healer and handed her the book with a small, unsure, smile.

Yrene smiled back at him before taking the book and getting up, "I have a theory that I need to test with this and the other book so I would like to excuse myself now, goodnight everyone."

It seems like Chaol would blindly follow his wife anywhere because as Yrene left the room, he trailed right behind her, going wherever she was going.

Aedion turned his head back at Lucien and drawled, "Soooo....what do we do now?"

Before anyone could reply, y/n stepped in front of the redhead prince, her gaze determined as she said, "Lucien isn't going to harm anyone so you do not have to be on alert around him. He will stay here as well, and will help us find a way to sort out this mess."

Lorcan just nodded his head, putting his arm around Elide as she said, "We trust you y/n, so we trust him as well."

"I can show him to his room!" Eva's voice filled the room as she raised her hand, an adorable smile covering her face.

She heard Lucien chuckle behind her as Lysandra said, "Me, y/n, Elide and you could show him. The witches could join if they want to."

Elide smiled, shaking her head, "I need to check on the boys, you three go."

Manon just raised an eyebrow while crossing her arms, "Isn't y/n a witch too?"

Oh that's right. She was a witch. And she started to actually like that name.

Y/n shrugged as she patted Lucien on his shoulder, signaling him to get up, "Well, this is MY friend from MY world. He needs to see a familiar face around, no?"

She glanced at the prince beside her, expecting to see him nodding but instead found him staring at....Petrah, who was right beside Manon, also staring at him.

Lysandra broke their haze as she just came to stand beside y/n, hooking arms with her, "Well then, Lulu, let's get you to your room, shall we? We will all make better introductions and explain everything in the morning."

Lucien's gaze drifted to the shifter, raising an eyebrow as they began exiting the room and walking towards the stairs, "Lulu?"

Y/n and Eva chuckled as Lysandra winked at him, "I just came up with the nickname, thought I could use it."

He just smiled slightly before shaking his head and looked back at y/n, her gaze still filled with concern as she gently asked, "Why are you in this condition? How did you get through the woods?"

The fox looked forward as he explained, "After I woke up in the middle of nowhere, I just went through the forest and clearly had an 'amazing' time for the past two day."

Y/n furrowed her brows, "Strange, when I woke up, the first thing I saw was Fenrys- another member of this court, standing right over my head. How come no one detected your presence?"

Lysandra also had a confused expression etched on her face, "Our wards are strong, at any sign of unusual interference, Rowan and Aelin would be informed, that's what happened when you landed here. But, I don't understand how we never felt Lucien's presence within these borders."

Eva stopped abruptly, turned to look at them all with wide eyes, "What if its because of the Valg? What if they have somehow managed to break through? If that's the case, imagine how many of them could have entered these lands...."

Both Lysandra and y/n looked at one another, eyebrows raised, eyes wide, the former said, "Yes, that's....that's actually a very good posibility."

Y/n slowly nodded, "We will have to speak to Rowan tomorrow-"

"What are you all talking about? What's a Valg?"

All three of them turned to look at Lucien who was just glancing between them, brows furrowed in confusion and arms crossed over his chest.

Y/n shook her head, closing her eyes, "Lu, you have a lot to catch up on. We will tell you everything tomorrow morning."

He was clearly confused and had like a million questions of his own but nodded his head in understanding as they continued on their way.

"Actually, I don't know anyone here except y/n dearest, so, could you tell me your names?"

Lysandra smirked at him, "Lysandra Ennar Ashryver, lady of Caraverre.....also a shifter."

Lucien's eyes widened in shock, "Shifter? Like, you can shift into anything?"

The green eyed woman laughed while nodding as y/n put a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Lysandra loves shifting. Just last time, I was almost about to step on her when she was a ladybug."

Lysandra winked at the winged female as Eva, smiled brightly before saying, "Evangeline, book and chaos lover."

Everyone laughed at that as they reached the room where Lucien will be staying in, "Well, Lulu, this room is yours for the keeping."

Lucien said his thanks before the shifter and Eva left, leaving y/n alone with him.

He looked at her with raised eyebrows, "A witch? Really?"

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head, "Believe me, I was just as surprised when I first found out."

He smiled widely now, his eyes shining with a mixture of relief and joy as he suddenly hugged her tightly, whispering, "Oh, y/n I am so glad you are well. I was so, so scared that none of us would ever see you again."

Her eyes closed, a smile overtaking her lips as well as she hugged him back, just as tightly "Lu, I am so glad you found me. So much is going on that I was beginning to think that I would never find a way to go back home. You being here is proof that there is a way."

They seperated but not before she felt him gently squeeze her uninjured shoulder, "Me too, y/n, me too."

She smiled at him one last time before turning to walk away, but not before saying, "They are not bad Lu, you don't need to doubt them. I started to get along with them, I am sure you will too."

Lucien looked to the wall beside her, seemingly lost in some memory as he gently smiled, "Yes, I think so too."

When morning came, she was once again making her way to the training grounds, preparing to fight some of the stress out.

Y/n was expecting to be alone, to have some peace and quiet in order to gather her thoughts and think over everything that happened in the past hours, with the breeze, birds and trees being her only companions right now.

What she was not expecting to see, was the very male who had her pressed against a wall last night, throwing punches at the air, looking as hot as ever. She would never admit it but, y/n was very glad to have this front row view at Fenrys' half naked, broad, large body, full of muscles and scars, glistening with sweat, his pants hanging loosely around his waist. The wound seemed to be almost healed as a singular bandage covered the side of his torso. His hair thrown in a messy man bun, his arms and biceps bulging as he dodged and punched and hit and moved.

She should be mad at him. He left last night after that amazing moment, leaving her frustrated both sexually and mentally. She must demand answers, why did he leave?

But looking at him now she just wanted to touch him, feel him. Why does her body react this way only and only to him? When she just sees only and only him-

Fenrys turned around, panting heavily as their eyes locked. Y/n felt all the air get knocked out of her the second those hot, frustrated, intense and dark eyes focused in on her. He took her in, starting from her eyes and slowly going down to her legs. She should turn around and leave, run away just like he did but all she could do was stand there and soak in the way his eyes roamed all over her, giving y/n the chance to also take him all in.

Then, as if nothing just happened, he turned back around and went towards the table holding a pitcher full of water.

Oh, no. He did not just ignore her. He had a lot to answer for and y/n would make sure she got them out of him right here, right now. Taking slow steps towards the other side of the ring that held weapons, y/n gave her best indifferent expression and willed her body to calm down as she kept her voice steady, her eyes trained on the array of bow and arrows, "So, you will just ignore me, Fen?"

No reply, nothing.

Very well. Her hands took a bow and began inspecting it, "Did you not like it? Personally, I loved it, Fenrys-"

"Stop lying."

Y/n picked a stack of arrows together with the bow and turned back around. He was leaning against the table, still breathing heavily as his head tilted back and he stared at the sky. Displaying that delicious throat that was so tempting, y/n just wanted to bite and kiss it nonstop.

But, her mind was somewhere else now, pondering over his words.

"What? I am not."

He just closed his eyes but said nothing.

Y/n slowly moved closer to him. "Fenrys-"

"Stop- stop it y/n, alright? What we did last night was wrong. A temptation into which we both fell, but it won't happen again."

Now, she was pissed. He was so cryptic, so hard to read. Who does he think he is? Making decisions on her behalf?

Y/n turned her back to him, finding a circular target. The bullseye, a small red circle at the center, seemed to beckon to her, challenging her to hit it dead center. Taking a deep breath, she raised the bow, feeling the tension in the bowstring as she nocked an arrow and drew it back. Her movements were smooth and practiced, the muscles in her back and shoulders tensing with controlled strength. She closed one eye, aligning the arrowhead with the bullseye. With a final exhale, she released the arrow.

The arrow struck the target with a satisfying thud, embedding itself just outside the bullseye in the second outer ring. A rush of adrenaline and frustration surged through her as she took another arrow, scoffed at not hitting the center and spoke, still not looking back at him, "You think you know it all don't you? Think you know what's best for me? Well then, you are no different than any of the males I had in my life."

And suddenly, he was right behind her, his naked chest slightly grazing her back as he gently but firmly held her arms and moved them just an inch, changing the angle as he held her other hand under his, helping her keep the arrow stable, his breath hit her ear as he whispered, "I know your friend is here. That only proves my point how sooner or later, you will go back because your life is there, not here."

And with that, he let go of her suddenly, making her release the arrow. With a satisfying thud, the arrow struck true. It buried itself deeply into the bullseye, dead center. Her eyes widened as y/n turned around to look at Fenrys but he was gone, completely disappeared and she was left all alone in the middle of the training ring.

Fenrys was feeling a mixture of emotions. Anger, frustration, confusion, and hunger. Hunger for her. Hunger because last night left him hungry for more. Fenrys thought that it was just a silly little temptation, that he just had to kiss her in order to get her out of his system, that he would be satisfied and move on once he had a taste of her.

Oh, how wrong he was. The second his lips were on hers, his hands touching her plush body, bringing her closer, Fenrys realized that she would be his doom, his undoing. She was absolutely intoxicating and he couldn't stop, didn't want to stop. Now that he had a small taste of her, all he wanted to do was to keep tasting more.

But then Lysandras knock brought him back to reality as realization dawned upon him. She would be gone, she wasn't from this place, she had a real home, people concerned for her, y/n had a life.

She had a life and he would never be a part of it. She would go back to Prythian and move on, fogetting him. But he wouldn't forget her, no. How can he when she was the only being ever in existence to cause him to feel a bunch of emotions? How can he when she was the only one to ever cause him to react so much?

The appearance of that Lucien was just proof that whatever this was could not go on. Lorcan and Dorian told him about all that happened last night and Fenrys couldn't understand why his heart physically hurt at even the thought of her going back. They didn't deserve her. None of them, and especially not Azriel. Oh, how Fenrys wished to see that male atleast once so he could teach him a nice little lesson.

Well, his mood definetly did not improve when he entered the dining room to see that redhead sitting with his family, talking and laughing. He just went to his chair as Aelin kept talking, ".....I can't believe you have fire powers as well! Mine are no longer that strong but I still got a spark atleast!"

Lucien smiled as he took a bite of his meal, "Yeah well, I was born into a house full of fire magic. All my brothers have this power too. Autumn court is known for this fire."

The queen smiled even more brightly, "I want to visit that place now."

Lucien just chuckled while shaking his head slowly, "I don't think you would like it as long as my monster of a father is its high lord."

"Believe me, we have met our own fair share of monsters." Dorian said, his eyes looking at everyone in the room knowingly.

"Oh, Beron is a self-centered viper. Lu, when will Eris finally take over?"

That voice. That melodic, hypnotizing voice. He saw from his peripheral view how y/n entered the room and completely went past the empty seat next to him, choosing to sit right fucking beside Lucien.

Don't react. This is what you wanted right? The further she is from you, the better.

Lucien's eyes widened slightly as he chuckled, "You like Eris? I thought everyone from Rhysands circle hated him"

Y/n shrugged while cutting up her meal, "Yeah well, I don't. Why should I?"

Lucien smiled softly now, "Me neither."

Rowan raised an eyebrow, "Something we should know? Is Eris also going to make a surprise appearance?"

Lucien shook his head slightly, "No, my brother has bigger things to deal with right now."

"Bigger than the valg?" that question came from Lorcan as he just stared at the prince, his gaze indifferent.

"Well, as I said earlier, our world never had such things as Valg-"

"They explained you everything?" y/n's voice made Fenrys clench his fork as he just kept looking at Lucien and not the female right beside him.

He noddded his head, "Yes, they told me everything and now I know why the book is so important."

Y/n was about to say something when a roar interrupted her. Petrah quickly got up from her seat, "Seems like Luna isn't tired after our morning ride. I will go check on her."

"What is that?" Lucien's question made Manon chuckle and Petrah raise an eyebrow as the former replied, "A wyvern. Ever seen one?"

Lucien's brows furrowed even further, "No, what-"

Another rumble. Petrah just smirked at him as she said while walking towards the door, "Come along, prince, I'll show you."

Fenrys caught how Lucien's gaze seemed to change the second he looked at the witch. How his pupils slightly dilated and his eyes just took her in. He knows how it feels because he experiences the same thing whenever he looks at y/n.

Lucien was clearly in another world as he just stared at the witch because the second y/n gently nudged him, he shook his head slightly, as if coming back to reality, and got up to follow Petrah.

Well, seems like someone has got a crush. Wait. Does that mean Fenrys also has a crush? No. Impossible. He just kept on eating his food as his family continued their conversation. Throughout the whole meal, he tried his hardest not to glance at her, not even once.

He didn't look at her. Not even once. Usually, y/n would feel whenever his eyes were on her, watching her. But this morning, he didn't even glance at her. This wasn't her plan. When y/n entered the room, she purposefully avoided his gaze and sitting next to him, instead choosing to sit beside Lucien.

"And yet, he didn't even react. Honestly, I don't understand him, what do you think I should do?"

Abraxos just let out a low, sleepy rumble from his place on the flower field.

Y/n just laughed, tilting her body back until she was sitting against the beasts large body.

"Thanks for the advice, friend."

Abraxos lifted his wing and gently draped it over her, causing y/n to smile while caressing it.

"I see you two seem to be enjoying your time."

Rowan's voice caught her attention as y/n lifted her head up to look at the silver haired prince coming her way.

"Well, this certainly is a surprise. Don't you have princely duties to do?"

He chuckled as he sat down on a small boulder across from her.

"I went out into the border earlier in the morning, and guess what? Eva's assumption was true, the wards around this place are ten times weaker than before. They have definetly been broken through."

Y/n sighed, "And what do we do now?"

The male just shrugged and looked down at his hands that were on his knees, "We wait. Yrene is hard at work on something that she won't tell anyone, not even Chaol, so it seems like whatever she is doing, is big."

She nodded her head, wordlessly and thought that he would leave after that but instead, Rowan said, "I heard you, you know."

"Don't tell me you heard everything..."

Rowan chuckled "Well, maybe not everything but enough to know that something is happening between you and Fenrys."

Y/n scoffed, "Nothing is happening between us. Atleast not anymore."

Rowan smiled slightly before turning his head to his left, looking at the fields beyond.

"You know, Aelin and I despised each other at first."

Y/n's eyes widened, "What?! impossible! you two seem so in love now."

"Now, yes. Before? Oh before all I wanted was to slit her throat. I actually punched her when we first met."

She couldn't hide the disbelieving laugh that left her throat, "W-what?!"

He turned his head back to her and laughed as well, "Yes! I thought that she was a spoiled, self-centered brat. That she had no idea about the reality of the world and wasn't ready to be queen."

He sighed and looked at the wyvern, a sad smile on his face, "We fought a lot at first, I insulted her and she insulted me back, she was fire in every sense of the word and I used to be afraid of getting burned by it, I was avoiding it. But then, after seeing her scars, both visible and invisible, I started to sympathise with her and eventually, I let myself get enveloped by her fire."

Before y/n could say anything he got up and went to caress Abraxos, his voice a quiet melody now, "I thought I had a mate, her name was Lyria and I had met her in a market. She was very beautiful, and I remember feeling this tug towards her from that very first day. Long story short, we mated and she got pregnant. But, while I was away, she and our unborn child were both murdered. I came home to find her mutilated body lying in her own cold blood. I had this tattoo done in order to carry the shame of not being able to protect my mate for eternity. It details our story, from the time I saw her to the day I came to find her dead, cold body on the floor."

She gasped, her hand coming to cover her mouth, "Rowan, I- I don't even know what to say. I am so sorry, and not to be rude but.....isn't- I thought Aelin was your mate."

He just kept on caressing the wyvern, not looking at her, "Turns out, Maeve led me to believe that Lyria was my mate and then, had her killed. Aelin was my true mate, and Maeve knew it, she just had this twisted, forged plan to use me for her advantage. To also break Aelin."

Y/n whispered, her eyes on the flowers, "And did she...break?"

Rowan looked at her, a small smile overtaking his face, "You will have to ask that from her."

And with that, he turned his back towards her, and started walking back to the palace. She called after him, "Why did you tell me all this?"

He didn't turn back. Rowan just kept walking but she heard him say, "So that you can make sense of your own destiny, of where your purpose lies."

Before she could question him, she saw Luna land on the ground and Petrah come down from her back, followed by Lucien and....and a struggling man that was tied up in ropes.

Y/n jumped to her feet, running towards them as Lucien came forward with the prisoner tightly held in his grip, Petrah right behind him.

"What is going on?!"

Petrah and Lucien moved past her quickly, the former saying over her shoulder, "He is a valg! Luna scented him walking right through the busy markets. Where is Aelin?!"

Y/n took large strides to catch up to them, speaking as they quickly walked towards the palace, "I don't know! Lets take him to the torture room. They have one here, right?!"

Petrah firmly nodded her head as they both followed Lucien. Once inside the halls, they found Rowan, who was making his way up the stairs, and took the captive towards the chambers below.

Fifteen minutes later, Lorcan, Manon and Fenrys joined them as they all watched the valg infested person struggle and scream against his chains, both visible and invisible, thanks to Rowan's powers.

Petrah was the first one to speak, her eyes assesing the captive before them, "He won't break unless we make him. The witch back in our kingdom hasn't broken yet either, despite all the torture we have put her through."

Manon interfered, "That is a willing ally to them, this person has been infested by one of them against his will."

Petrah nodded her head at her queen, "Exactly, so it will be easier to get him to talk."

Fenrys shook his head, his arms crossed, "We have to get Yrene."

Rowan looked at his friend, "And drain her even more? She is already using too much of her powers, Chaol is in a wheelchair. Besides, once she gets the valg out of these people, they seem to forget everything. We need him just like this to get him to talk."

"I won't talk! I won't talk! I won't-"

"Oh, you will, and you will tell us every single little thing, you little demon." Rowan's voice was unrecognizable as he stood right in front of the man and looked down at him.

The poor man was laughing like a maniac now, he laughed and laughed until his eyes landed on her and he stopped. He stared and stared before his mouth tilted downwards and his light brown eyes somehow became black. Now, he was shouting at her, "You whore! We are coming for you! We are coming for you and we will end you just like we ended your mudslug of a father!"

Y/n's anger began rising, causing her to clench her fists in order to stop her iron claws from appearing. She took slow steps towards the man, recognizing that it was the valg inside him talking this way and not him.

"Listen to me and listen well, you parasite. I know what you did to my father and mother, what you did to my family. Do not think for one minute that I will forget it. No, I will find you all and once I do, none of you will be able to escape me. I will spend the rest of my immortal years going from world to world in order to completely cut your roots if I need to. You have said it yourself, I am the chosen one, the one who carries my mother's gifts inside me. So it's time I use these gifts and destroy you once and for all."

There was complete silence in the room, all eyes on her as the man shouted back, "You won't find us! We are hidden well!"

Well, it's time to use some psychological mind tricks then.

Y/n smirked as she leaned down, coming face to face with him, "Oh, I know where you are. In fact, I have completely sketched out a map of your whole location, both inside and outside."

The man's eyes widened, "No.....no the prince....he survived! It was him!"

Time to lead him on to get answers without making it obvious.

"Yes, the prince who survived was spotted in the city. He thinks he has good cover but he is wrong, oh he is so wrong."

The valg seemed to believe her as he started saying, "He did it! He did it! Do not bring the healer!"

"What did he do?"

"After the war was over, he....he survived! he survived Erawan and found us, other survivors as well! He is gathering all of us now, we will attack once we are large enough in numbers!"

"How did he survive? Aren't you all connected to Erawan? And where are you all located in?" Lorcan's voice came from behind her.

The valg however, didn't seem to be listening to him, violently shaking his head, shouting, "He survived! He is coming! You will die!"

And before any of them could react, the man went limp. Y/n quickly checked his neck, hoping to feel a heartbeat but, nothing. He was dead.

Y/n sighed as Manon said, "Well, atleast now we know that not all the valgs died."

Fenrys was the first one to leave, turning abruptly and exiting without a word to anyone, and without looking at her.

Rowan turned towards the door, "I will need to inform Aelin about this, Lorcan, inform the others."

Lorcan nodded as he followed the prince while Manon patted y/n on the shoulder, whispering a 'good job' and quickly left the room with Petrah who turned just once to look over her shoulder not at y/n or the dead man in the center of the room, but at Lucien who was just staring at his lifeless body.

Once they were gone, y/n put her hand on his shoulder and turned him towards her, "Lu, are you well?"

He looked at her, his mechanical eye just as wide as his other eye. "Y/n, let's....let's leave."

She nodded, silently leading the way out of the room.

Once they were out in the hall, she tried to ease the tension by nudging him with her shoulder, her tone turning playful as y/n gave him a smirk "So, what was that about?"

Lucien's brows furrowed as he turned to look at her while they kept walking, "What's what about?"

"You riding a wyvern with Petrah."

Lucien chuckled, "It's nothing, I was shocked when I saw that thing and then Petrah asked me if I wanted to join her for a ride and I....I got curious, I mean, we will leave this place at some point and Prythian doesn't have such adorable beasts so when am I ever gonna ride something like that again?"

Right, they will leave at some point.

She gave him a small smile, "Yeah....how- how is everything between you and Elain?"

Lucien's eyes dimmed as his smile turned serious "Just like how it was before you left. She still hasn't accepted me."

"Are you serious?! It's already been what? three years? I mean, if she doesn't want to have a mate, if she wants to reject the bond, then she has to say so. But for her to just keep on ignoring you without any words is pissing me off. Once we get back, I will have a word with her before I leave-"

"Alright, alright stop there for a moment" Lucien held both of his hands up to her as they both halted.

"Two things. First, don't tell her anything because I have dealt with her. I rejected our bond, and guess what? I was expecting some kind of pain or I don't know...an uncomfortable feel in my chest because after all, it's a bond that's breaking but....nothing. I felt absolutely nothing for rejecting her."

Y/n's eyes widened, "So, do you think my theory is right? That The Cauldron made a mistake when it mated you to her? That it was a momentary slip up? That there was no bond to begin with?"

Lucien shrugged, "Maybe. I don't really care but I do feel much more freer than I did when I felt like I had to put effort into making her like me."

When y/n opened her mouth to speak, he held up a hand, silencing her, "Now, second thing. What in The Mother's name do you mean by saying 'before I leave'? What happened?"

Yn sighed and turned to walk, Lucien quickly catching up with her, "Lu, Azriel has a mate."

Lucien stopped again, his eyebrows hit his hairline, "What?! Excuse me?! Please tell me it's you."

Y/n chuckled but kept walking, "Do you remember Gwyn? Turns out they were together for the past two years and the worst part is that.....that everyone in the inner circle knew except for me. They knew, Lu! They all knew and none of them thought of telling me! Instead they preferred to watch me suffer!"

Lucien grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her to look at him, "Y/n, but....but you seemed so well whenever I would come? Like, like you would be so happy and cheerful and your outgoing self? I never....I never even noticed. Oh Cauldron boil me-"

Y/n gently placed her hand on his shoulder, "Lu, please don't blame yourself. You are the only one who ever saw me for me. You would only stay there for a week, sometimes even less and you would be so stressed with your whole thing with Elain and whatever new information you would bring about Koschei and whatever else so obviously I wouldn't show it to you. But they.....they were there all the time. Mor had walked hundreds of times on me having a panick attack and did nothing. So I obviously do not plan on staying there anymore."

Lucien closed his eyes as his head tilted downwards, "I am so sorry, y/n. Once we are back, you know you will always have a place with me, Jurian and Vassa. If you want."

Y/n gave him a small but genuine smile as they slowly resumed their walking, "I know, Lu. And I am beyond grateful."

It was starting again. His nightmares were on him again. They stopped for one night and one night only. The night where y/n slept with him, the night that she was in his arms.

But now, now they were back. His nightmares would usually differ, never repeating the same memory twice, but instead showing another trauma each night.

Tonight, it was one of his memories with Maeve. It was the night she raped him countless times before ordering him to sleep naked right outside her door. It was a punishment for disobeying her orders. Because he healed Connall when he got injured severely while getting beaten up by one of her obedient little followers. Because Connall had disobeyed her too and done something. Something he refused to tell Fenrys. She wanted him to bleed and be on the verge of death as punishment. But, how could Fenrys just sit by and watch his own brother wither away?

She raped him. She put her disgusting hands on him knowing how much he hated it and got her way with him. He hated himself after that. But, what's the point now? Connall is dead anyway. You failed him, Fenrys. You failed your own brother. You are nothing-

"Fen, are you well?"

Her angelic voice soothed his growing demons, calmed his growing nightmares.

Fenrys turned his head to see y/n standing right beside his sitting form, in front of the large window they have in the hall between their rooms. She was wearing silk pants and a long sleeve, loose shirt. Both in white. Her adorable face held a mixture of concern and curiosity as she looked down on him.

And that nickname she gave him. That fucking nickname that only she is allowed to call him. No one else.

He sighed and turned his head back towards the large window, looking at the moonless night in front of him, "No, y/n. I am not well."

He felt her sit beside him and turn her head to look at his side profile. Her soft, soothing voice reached his ears even better when she was this up and close to him, "Do you....do you want to talk about it?"

For some reason, he did. For some reason, his chest tightened and he felt this need to, for the first time, open up and talk about his own troubles to someone.

So, with a small nod, he began. He told her of his childhood with Connall, of how they never knew their parents, of how they always only ever had each other. He talked about his blood oath to Maeve, he told her just a few of the tortures she put him and his brother through. Just a few of the things she made him do to innocents. The guilt, the shame that was eating away at him. The war and what happened during it. Connall's death. And lastly, the fact that it has been three years and he still can't move on, can't forget.

Once he was done, he turned his face to look at her, seeing her eyes shining with unshed tears. "So, y/n. You now saw the real me. My ugly truth that I hide inside me. It's best if you just run away now."

She slowly shook her head and put a gentle palm against his cheek.

Then, she said the sentence that shook his world.

"Don't do that. I am not scared of any part of you, Fen. How can I when I am just as scarred as you are? How can I, when I know the pain of such things? You showed me a raw part of yours, and for that, I am so grateful. I will cherish it forever. I care for all of you, both your beautiful and not so beautiful parts."

Fenrys had never felt this vulnerable yet safe in his life. The truth in her words as she looked at him with nothing but pure care and sympathy made him feel not weak or pitied but....safe, understood. He wanted to ask her about her story but from the look in her eyes, she wouldn't tell. He knew she wouldn't. This was supposed to be about him.

That care increased his heart rate even further. Caused him to feel things he never did.

He may regret this tomorrow, may go back to blaming himself again, but, he couldn't care any less right now.

Slowly, just an inch, he leaned closer to her and whispered, "Ask me to kiss you again."

Her eyes widened slightly as her plush lips parted.

But she did. She whispered, "Kiss me, Fenrys."

And with that, he closed his eyes and kissed her. He smashed their lips together as her arms went to his hair, holding him close, as she leaned back on the ground, bringing him with her, placing him completely between her parted legs.

He kissed her with a mixture of emotions. He kissed her hard but also soft, gently but also firmly, quickly but also slowly, messily but also lovingly. She kissed him back with the same amount of ferocity.

Then, his kisses moved to her jaw and then her neck. He kissed her slowly over where her injury once was and then, as he looked back her, for permission to take off her shirt, she slowly shook her head, no.

It was complete and utter darkness here anyway. The stars barely illuminated anything. But, she still didn't want him to take off her shirt. He would respect that either way. He kissed her over her clothing as he moved down, over her stomach and stopped just above her pants, once again looking back at her.

She hesitated again. Closing her eyes and then opening them again to look towards the window. Then, as if she understood that he can't see her body properly, nodded at him slowly.

There was definetly something. Something she wasn't telling him. But, it's alright. He would ask her at some point and hope that she would share it with him.

Fenrys slowly took ahold of the top of her pants and pulled them down. He pulled them down and off completely, before lying on his stomach and gently touching her ankles, her legs and then, her thighs.

He felt a couple of bumps along her skin but assumed they were probably injuries she got during fights or during the war. After all, what kind of a warrior doesn't have scars or wounds?

Her skin was still so soft though. So soft and creamy, he just wanted to keep touching her. He brought his face closer to her inner thighs, kissing them gently as he heard her take in a sharp breath. Her arousal, her sweet and perfect arousal, was hitting his nose as he came closer towards her core. Only a thin piece of fabric was stopping him now.

Fenrys once again lifted his head towards her, so that she could see him in the dark looking at her, questioning her, making sure.

He saw her give a slight nod of her head and that was all that he needed.

Fenrys brought his face back to her core as his hunger for her began taking over. As his thirst for her began taking over. He gave her a nice, long and torturously slow lick over her panties, causing a melodic moan to escape her.

Gods, she was perfect. Fenrys felt his own cock throbbing in his loose pants, but that could wait.

She whispered, "Please...."

Without waiting any longer or making this torturous for either of them, Fenrys quickly ripped apart her panties, causing a gasp to come out of her and then.....dear Gods.......her perfect, dripping cunt was right in front of him. Her arousal fully hitting his nose, taking over all of his sense, leaving only one thing behind: Greed. Greed to devpur her whole and leave nothing for anyone else. Greed to mark her up completely.

With a growl, he lifted a finger and gently touched her, smearing her arousal all over her lips. Y/n lifted her hips involuntarily, another string of 'please' falling off her kissable lips.

Fenrys let out an involuntary moan, "You are so perfect, princess."

And that was it, that was all he said before diving in. That was all he said before he began feasting on her like a madman. He ate her out as if he was dying and she was his only cure, like she was the only meal left in this world and he was a starving male.

He ate her out like she was fucking made for him.

With each lick, with each bite, his hunger for her only grew stronger, insatiable. Her moans and gasps too, grew louder, so much so that he had to snake a hand up, past her breasts and her neck, to cover her mouth.

His own throbbing, hard cock was killing him too. So, while he was feasting on his beautiful witch, Fenrys started humping the ground, searching for some relief too. This caused him to moan right into her pussy, making her back stretch out even more, her hands coming to grab and mess up his hair as she bit his hand.

Fenrys added his fingers, stimulating her with both his tounge and fingers and as he felt her warm walls begin to clench uncontrollably around him, he knew she was close. He was getting close too and that was a shock to him. Fenrys had never been on the verge of cumming this quick before. No one had ever made him this pent up and feral that he reached his edge this quick.

She was the first. His annoying, ferocious, angry little witchling was the first to ever make him cum this fast.

And all it took were a few more licks, bites, thrusts and she was gone. Y/n moaned deep and hard as she came all over his tounge and lower face. And he licked it all up. Fenrys drank every single drop of her sweet nectar, savouring its addicting taste. And as if on cue, he himself came inside his pants while he was still licking her up.

And through it all, his eyes never left hers. Even if it was dark, even if they couldn't clearly see one another, Fenrys kept his eyes on her face, knowing that she felt his eyes on her too.

Once he was finished, he sat up, gently putting her pants back on and pocketing her ripped underwear for....later.

He saw y/n's frame slowly sit up as well as he came closer to her, gently helping her up to her feet before asking, "I hope I didn't hurt you."

He felt her smile and cursed the darkness for keeping that beautiful view away from his eyes. She came closer and put her hands behind his neck, her breasts pressing to his naked chest, causing him to feel her nipples right against him. He barely held back a groan.

She got on her toes as Fenrys held her waist to keep her stable while she gently kissed him on the cheek and whispered, her voice hoarse and so damn sexy, "I had never cum so hard before, Fen. It was amazing. Thank you."

Fuck. He was absolutely doomed.

When she tried to move away, his arms closed completely around her, pressing her to him as his one arm lifted, his hand going to hold her behind her neck as he smashed their lips together once more.

He let her taste herself on his tounge as he kissed her with so much pent up lust and hunger, for her. Only and only for her.

Once he pulled back, he felt her heavy breaths as she whispered "Fenrys-"

"With every breath I take, Y/n," he whispered fervently, his voice a steady promise that caused her body to tremble slightly, "I'll stand by your side, shielding your light from any darkness that dares to fucking approach. You will ignite the world, and I will ensure it never dims. I swear it."

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Taglist: @ladespedidas @mis-lil-red @going-through-shit @kaitttttttt @blackgirlmagicforever

@acotar-writing @paleidiot @snoopyspace @stained-glass-eyes0708 @saltedcoffeescotch

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@glaciuswduo

[libraryofgage]

Harlequin Prince

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One Harley Quinn One (you're here!) 10th Doctor and Rose (on the way! might take a little, I have plans for this one) Scooby Gang (there are also plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz)

I'm a simple woman who believes Steve deserves to be a little unhinged sometimes, and having Harley Quinn as a mother is the perfect excuse to make that happen lol

Anyway, I know I haven't updated some of my other series in a hot minute; I've just been busy with work and a little sick ngl

If you'd like to be tagged for any new parts in this series, let me know!

And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

-------

Steve's earliest memory is of being tucked into bed with a Batman night light plugged into the wall and his mother squeezed in next to him. She's wearing her softest pajamas, and Steve idly rubs the fabric under his thumb. In her lap is a huge book that she flips through, humming "Pop Goes the Weasel" under her breath before finally stopping on a page. "Okay, Dumplin', let's read about Narcissistic Personality Disorder," she finally says, wiggling some to get comfortable before clearing her throat.

Her voice is soft and a little nasally, and Steve obediently closes his eyes when she starts reading. After a few minutes, she gently cards her fingers through his hair, her palm warm as it slides over his scalp. Eventually, he drifts off, his dream so vivid that he still remembers the oversized hammers with their white doctor coats and floating clipboards.

The first time Steve's mother is sent (back) to Arkham, he doesn't realize anything is wrong until Uncle Bruce picks him up from school. Steve had been waiting long after the other kids were picked up by their parents, a misshapen pink-and-blue coaster for his mother that he made in art class in his hands, when one of Uncle Bruce's fancy cars pulled up to the school.

The passenger window rolled down, and Bruce looked almost pained as he met Steve's eyes. "Hop in," he said, leaning over to open the door from the inside.

Steve walked up to the door but didn't get in. "Mom said I should only go home with her," he said, "unless you know our secret code."

"Cognitive Behavioral Therapy."

Steve stood for a moment longer before nodding and climbing into the passenger seat. He closed the door, pulled on his seat belt, and carefully held the coaster in his lap. "Where's Mom?" he asked, watching as Bruce turned down the radio and slowly pulled away from the school.

"Your mother is....going to be away for a while," Bruce said, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "She did something bad, and now she's going to stay in time out because of it."

"Mom says you shouldn't dumb things down just because I'm young. She says it's not good for my development."

Bruce got a slight smile at that, his lips twitching up as he glanced at Steve. "Is that so," he said, his grip on the wheel loosening some. He seemed to think for a moment before saying, "Your mother blew up a warehouse. She was apprehended by Batman and has been sent to Arkham for a few months. Since I'm listed as your godfather, you'll stay with me until she's released."

Steve didn't reply. He just looked down at his coaster and wondered if he'd be able to convince his Uncle Bruce to visit Arkham so he could give it to her.

He did not, in fact, get to visit her at Arkham during that stint. But Steve did get to visit on her next one, which was almost three years later to the day. Steve's first visit to Arkham was on his 8th birthday, and he was chaperoned by Uncle Bruce and Nightwing (he wasn't allowed to call Dick by his real name when he was in costume, so Steve just didn't call him anything at all).

That was also the first time Steve truly experienced Arkham's lax security. Through no fault of his own (and he would continue to argue this point; how did two superheroes let an 8 year old wander off?), Steve had somehow ended up in another part of Arkham altogether.

This hallway had large cells with reinforced glass walls that allowed Steve to look inside. He could name most of the people he passed, recognizing Killer Croc and Riddler and the Penguin by his mother's descriptions of their defining features. Most of them tried talking to Steve, but he pushed ahead, eager to see if his mother was at the end of the hall.

She wasn't. Instead, Steve found another woman. She had green skin and bright red hair and Steve hadn't been able to contain himself. He'd practically squished his face against the glass and asked, "Are you Poison Ivy?"

"Oh, her he talks to," the Penguin said, his tone mean and his voice carrying.

Poison Ivy ignored him, choosing to instead open one eye from where she lay on the bed. She stared at Steve before sitting up. "Do I know you?" she asked.

"Nope! But my mom knows you. She talks about you all the time. She said you're the baddest badass to ever badass," Steve said.

"Oh. You're Harley's kid," Poison Ivy replied, walking over to the glass and crouching down to meet his gaze. "What are you doing all the way over here?"

"It's my birthday, so Uncle Bruce said I could see Mom."

"Well, happy birthday. Now, what are you doing here?"

Steve blinked, looked around the hall again, and realized for the first time that he was, in fact, a bit lost. "Uh, I'm not sure. I was with Uncle Bruce before."

A moment passed between the two of them in which Poison Ivy said nothing while Steve tried to remember how, exactly, he'd ended up here. When he came up blank, he simply shrugged and looked back at her. "Hey, you like plants, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, kid, I like plants," she said, her tone taking on the same inflection his mother's did when he asked something she thinks is obvious.

Steve didn't linger on the tone. Instead, he dug around in his coat pocket for a few seconds, pushing past candy wrappers and erasers until his hand closed around an acorn he'd picked up off the ground a few days ago. He pulled it out and presented it to Poison Ivy on his palm. "Is it still a plant if it fell off the tree?" he asked.

"Yeah," Poison Ivy said, her voice soft like she was staring at something unbelievable. Steve watched as a huge grin spread across her face, her eyes lit up, and she pressed her hands to the glass. "Can you do me a favor, Steve?" she asked.

"Sure! Mom said you're a person I should listen to," he said, starting to close his fingers around the acorn. Now that he was thinking about it, he didn't actually know how to give the acorn to her with the glass between them.

"Your mom is right. You should always listen to me. And her. But mostly me right now," Poison Ivy said, her gaze a bit softer as she looked at Steve. "So, go ahead and put the acorn on the ground and stand as far away as possible."

Steve didn't question her. Whatever Poison Ivy wanted to do would probably be fine. After all, Uncle Bruce didn't warn him about talking to her like he had about the Joker. So, Steve put the acorn down and hurried to the other end of the hall. "Now what?" he shouted.

The only response he got was the acorn shuddering, spinning across the floor, and then bursting open. In the blink of an eye, a tree grew, its roots breaking through the ground and its branches shattering the glass of Poison Ivy's cell. Steve was just thinking that was probably why Poison Ivy told him to stand back when she walked out, rolling her shoulders and breathing like the air is fresh.

She looked at Steve and walked over, standing in front of him for a moment before sweeping him into her arms. "Thanks, kid," she said, opening her hand and letting a tiny purple flower grow from her palm. She tucked it behind Steve's ear. "Now, let's go find your mom."

Of course, Poison Ivy's escape had set off numerous alarms, and Uncle Bruce just about fainted when he saw her carrying Steve while Nightwing looked two seconds from laughing. But Steve's mom had smiled so wide that her cheeks must have hurt after only two seconds when she saw them.

It was, by far, the best birthday Steve had ever had.

‐-----------------------------

Hawkins, Indiana, is...boring. Steve has only been in the town for a few weeks, and he's bored out of his mind. He could have been sent to Metropolis or Central City. Hell, he would have preferred Bludhaven to the absolute snoozefest that is Hawkins. But, no, Uncle Bruce insisted on somewhere safe, which means somewhere boring, which means...Steve will just have to make his own fun.

That's why he's found himself in a dive bar on the edge of town, sitting at the bar as the owner (a woman named Bev who definitely killed her husband; Steve would know, he's met plenty of women who definitely killed their husbands) refuses to give him anything alcoholic. "Listen, kid," she says, her tone hard and unyielding, "I can give you water, a Shirley Temple, or a permanent ban. Which do you prefer."

After a few seconds, Steve sighs, slaps way more money than is necessary on the bar, and says, "Gimme a Shirley Temple."

Bev nods, swipes up the cash, and starts making his drink. He watches her with a slight frown before looking away, noticing another boy his age wiping down a table. He looks, and Steve cannot say this affectionately enough, like a wannabe goon for a motorcycle gang. Between the bandana stuffed into his back pocket, his slightly frizzy hair falling to his shoulders, and the leather jacket/vest combo, the guy is the first reminder of home Steve has seen since arriving in this sleepy town.

When he notices the guy's shoulders tense, Steve looks away to keep from being caught staring. A Shirley Temple is placed in front of him, and Steve represses a sigh, missing the sounds of fights happening behind him as he drinks with Jason.

"Aren't you a little young to be hanging around here?"

Steve slowly takes a sip of his drink, the saccharine cherry flavor washing over his tastebuds, and glances at an older man a few seats down from him. He looks the man over, lingering on the half-tucked shirt, muddy loafers, and circles under his eyes. Without permission, his mother's DSM-V rushes through his mind, a blur of his mother's voice accompanying the page flips. They finally settle on "Adjustment Disorder," accompanied by his mom saying, "Sometimes, that's just a fancy term for a mid-life crisis, Dumplin'."

Without thinking, Steve asks in return, "Aren't you a little old to still be going through a mid-life crisis?"

In Gotham, that might get him a laugh, an eye roll, and possibly an elbow to the ribs from whichever friend accompanied him. Here, it gets him a tense silence that he only thought happened in bad movies gearing up for a fight sequence. Seriously, what is wrong with Hawkins?

"I'll give you one chance to apologize," the guy says, clearly thinking he's being sufficiently threatening.

It takes every ounce of Steve's self-control to keep from laughing at the guy. Does that usually work? Do people usually find this guy threatening? He's got nothing on Alfred, so Steve just can't bring himself to even fake intimidation.

"Yeah, don't hold your breath, man," Steve says, rolling his eyes as he takes another sip. The Shirley Temple isn't bad, but it's not what he was expecting, and it feels like just another disappointment atop a pile of them.

They're building in his chest, now that he thinks about it. Steve is slowly suffocating under the weight of them. They buzz in his lungs, surging through him until the energy is so overwhelming that he has to bounce his leg and tap his finger against his glass to expel some of it. He shouldn't have agreed to leave Gotham, or at the very least, he shouldn't have left the location entirely up to Bruce. Holy shit, that was a dumb decision. He ought to know better.

A sudden, annoyingly harsh drag of chair legs against the floor rings in Steve's ears, making his shoulders tense and his fingers twitch. He looks over to see the guy standing over him, glaring down at Steve like that's supposed to scare him when nothing else has.

Steve sighs, drinking the last of his Shirley Temple before standing. Over the guy's shoulder, he can see the boy his age watching them, and...well, Steve kind of wants to make a good impression on the first person to remind him of home. Plus, a fight sounds great. He'd love a chance to expel some of this disappointment-fueled energy.

The guy suddenly snorts, pulling Steve's attention back. "You're young, kid, so I'll let you off the hook this time around, but learn some respect."

What? Seriously? All of that, and the guy doesn't even start a fight? Does he know how rude that is? He'd get killed in Gotham. "Oh," Steve says, his voice flat, "you're scared of getting your ass kicked."

Somehow, that's what the guy considers the final straw. It wasn't even that good. Like, that's just fucking small talk in Gotham, and Steve can't bring himself to understand what about it was so infuriating that the guy swings his fist.

Either way, Steve happily embraces the fight. His eyes light up, and adrenaline rushes through his veins as he ducks and kicks the guy's left knee. The familiar sound of a bone snapping rings out. Steve's ready for more, hands curled into fists and held up to protect his face, when the guy drops.

After one kick, he drops. Steve blinks, staring down at the guy cursing and holding his knee. He slowly lowers his hands when he realizes this isn't some kind of fake-out diversion and looks at Bev behind the counter. She's frowning at him, hands on her hips, and Steve comes to the conclusion that bar fights are not, in fact, a thing in Hawkins. "Do they usually go down so easy around here?" he asks.

"They usually don't fight at all."

Oh. Holy shit, this place is boring.

Steve sighs and pushes some hair out of his face, frowning slightly. "Well, uh, sorry about the disturbance, then. I'll just...get going," he says, awkwardly pushing his chair in and doing the same for the guy whose kneecap he kicked. Nobody says anything as he leaves, and Steve shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, frustration and disappointment and homesickness building in him.

He's halfway to his car when somebody shouts, "Hey! Wait!"

With a huff, Steve stops and turns, his mood only lightening when he sees the boy that was wiping down tables. He waits patiently, watching as the boy runs up to him and holds out a wad of cash. "Bev said to give this to you," he says.

"What, is my money not good enough?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow at the cash before looking up and meeting brown eyes.

"No, no," the boy says, "Bev only gives change to people she likes. She said you're welcome to come by and kick Phillip's ass whenever you want."

Steve blinks, studying the boy for any signs of lies. When he doesn't find one, he takes the cash and nods. "Good to know," he says.

"Yeah. Right. Um, I'm going back inside now."

"Hold on," Steve says, grinning when the boy listens and stands still. He takes a step closer, holds out his hand, and says, "My name's Steve. I'm new around here, if you couldn't tell."

The boy stares at his hand for a few seconds before taking it, the rings on his fingers pressing against Steve's skin. "Eddie. I could tell," he says, his shoulders relaxing some. "Where you from?"

"Gotham."

"Holy shit, no wonder you looked so ready for a fight," Eddie says, staring at Steve like he's incomprehensible. Steve tries not to preen under his gaze. "Hawkins must be dead compared to Gotham."

"Yeah," Steve agrees, glancing down at his and Eddie's hands still clasped together despite the handshake being over. "But I think I'll have some fun anyway."

[navybrat817]

Prelude to a Kiss

Pairings: Camboy!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Camboy!Steve Rogers x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader x Steve Rogers Summary: A chance encounter with two handsome men at a bookstore brings some much needed excitement to your normal routine. Word Count: Over 2.3k Warnings: F/lirting, slight insecurity if you squint, slight feels (it's me), pet name, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers being both gentlemen and menaces (they're warnings, okay?). A/N: Welcome to my Showtime AU! Excited to share my first "actual" Stucky x Reader AU and for our reader to come into her own. ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby ​, but any and all mistakes are my own. Thanks to @sgt-seabass, @rookthorne, and @targaryenvampireslayer for letting me scream about this introduction. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was a normal afternoon when you went into the bookstore, the familiar quiet greeting you as the door shut. You ventured into the shop every couple of weeks to find new books to read. The man behind the desk didn't bother to lift his head long enough from his phone to greet you. You would think after your first few visits he'd at least offer you a smile or suggestion, but he never did. You were used to guys not giving you much attention.

Too ordinary to stand out, I guess.

No, you wouldn't think of yourself that way. Just because most guys tended to gravitate toward your friends instead of you didn't mean anything was wrong with you. The right person would come along and take notice.

"I am a catch," you whispered to yourself as you walked through the shelves.

And a bit lonely.

Your phone dinged before you could dwell on that thought, smiling as your best friend's name popped up. It faded quickly when you read her message. The two of you had a dinner date, but the new guy she was seeing had tickets to some show. You understood. You really did.

Except you were the friend who always seemed to get ditched when a guy came along.

"Have fun!" you sent back. "We'll catch up later."

At least you could get a jump start on a new book and curl up on the couch for the evening. Like you did most nights. Lather, rinse, repeat. When did your life become so monotonous?

"Romance it is," you mumbled as you reached for a blue book on the shelf.

You turned it over to read the blurb on the back, a small smile on your face as you walked down the aisle. From the simpering heroines to feisty protagonists, you enjoyed immersing yourself in the emotions that poured from the pages as the heroes fought to get their girls. Confident, broody, flirty, alluring, you loved them all and wondered if such men you read about existed.

"Oh!"

For a second, you thought you walked into one of the shelves before you realized you bumped into a person. A very large person who didn't budge, even as a couple of books fell to the ground. You dropped to the floor immediately to retrieve them. Why hadn't you been paying attention?

"Oh, my god. I'm so sorry," you said as the guy crouched down to help.

"Nothing to be sorry about," he said, his velvety voice making you lift your head.

In front of you was one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. Long, brown hair, close to his shoulders, framed his face and your mouth went dry as you found yourself staring into his bright blue eyes. You couldn't help but notice the smile on his face as he offered you his hand and effortlessly pulled you to your feet, your cheeks hot as he steadied you. He took up more than half the aisle with his muscular frame and you knew then that a god existed among men.

Like he stepped right out of one of these novels.

"I-I'm sorry," you said again, your gaze going to his hands as he fixed the stack of books he was carrying. "I should've been paying attention to where I was going."

"It's okay," he smiled, looking you up and down with a slow and steady gaze. "You can bump into me again if you want. I don't mind."

You nearly dropped the book in your own hand as you stepped back, his smile shifting to a smirk. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was flirting with you. That couldn't be the case though.

"Oh, you are fucking adorable," he said in a low voice, quickly looking behind him. "Stevie, get over here. Found something special."

"What did you find?" The deep timbre that rang out made your knees weak.

You let out a shaky breath when an Adonis walked around the corner. Just as large as the brunette, but with shorter blonde hair, a smile didn't reach his brilliant blue eyes as he strode over. Instead of light scruff like the man you bumped into, he donned a trimmed beard. He had to shift just to fit beside his friend and you nearly shrank under his gaze. You tried not to openly gape, not knowing which one of them to concentrate on.

So, two gods among men. Like something out of a wet dream. Do I look at the veins in their arms? Do I stare at their chests? How do they even fit in their shirts? Did they purposely choose something that matched their eyes?

The brunette smirked again and gave a single nod toward you. "This precious gem here bumped into me."

You nearly melted to the floor as heat rushed to your face again. The pet name had your head spinning. Or maybe it was the intoxicating scent of their cologne. "It was an accident and I apologized."

The blonde softly smiled at that, but his eyes held a spark of mischief. "I'm sure it was, but I know Buck is not sorry that you bumped into him."

"Not sorry at all," he confirmed.

You shifted your weight and wondered if the bookstore was always so hot or if it was just them. Your skin heated up more under your clothes and your heart beat faster under their attention. Part of you wished you had a bottle of water to dump over your head and cool off. You didn't even want to think about being sandwiched between them because your legs would likely give out.

"Buck and Stevie?" you asked.

"That's what we call each other. I'm Bucky and that's Steve," the brunette smiled, nodding to the blonde. "Can call us Sarge and Cap if you want."

You couldn't put your finger on it, but something about them seemed familiar. Like you had either seen them somewhere or heard of them in passing, but that couldn't be the case. No, you would have remembered them.

Men like them were unforgettable.

"It's nice to meet you," Steve said, giving you an expectant look.

You told them your name after a second and you hoped you didn't look weird when you blinked a few times. You were trying to make sure you were awake and not dreaming. Because who bumped into two gorgeous men like this in a bookstore? That wasn't your life.

Except, today, it was.

“I really should have been looking where I was going. I mean, you're not hard to miss," you said, doing your best not to ogle at Bucky. "Neither of you are. I mean that in a good way."

"You aren't hard to miss either. I also mean that in a good way," Bucky smiled.

"I agree," Steve said, his eyes sweeping over you before you glanced at yourself.

You wondered what they saw exactly. It wasn't that you looked bad. You always left your place with confidence in your appearance. You just weren't used to most guys looking anymore.

Or maybe, just maybe, some are and I'm the one who isn't paying attention.

Bucky gently pried the book from your hand, his fingers lingering against yours. "And I'd like to pay for that."

"Oh, no. You don't have to," you argued as he added the book to his pile.

You noticed then that he held a couple of science books while Steve had novels on art. It intrigued you as both were fascinating subjects in their own way. You had a feeling both of them were the same way: captivating, wondrous, and deep.

"I want to."

"A gentleman would ask to get her a drink, too," Steve teased.

"I don't know if I'm a gentleman," Bucky mused as he looked at you. "But I would also like you to have a drink with us. Then I'll accept your apology."

What would the sassy heroine say in this situation?

"I-" you almost sputtered.

Not that.

"Now you're just being mean, Buck. It was an accident and she apologized," Steve chastised, but he smiled at you.

"I'm not," Bucky swore, clutching his chest with one hand. "Hurts right here where you bumped me. A drink with you would make us both feel all better."

Steve regarded you carefully. "Unless you have a boyfriend you need to get back to. Or girlfriend."

You couldn't help licking your lips, not knowing just how enticing the gesture was. It was dizzying to be on the receiving end of their stares again, yet you couldn't tear your eyes away as you looked between them. Was it wrong to enjoy the attention these strangers were giving you?

"No, I'm not seeing anyone," you said.

And no rings on their fingers, but no way can they be single.

Instead of turning to walk the other way, Bucky moved forward and bent his head. "Lucky us," he whispered against your ear before he brushed past you. "Mmm. You smell sweet. Like flowers," he added over his shoulder.

You bit back a whine before Steve gave you an assuring smile. You admitted to yourself earlier that you were lonely. Had you sent out some sort of vibe to the universe to get them to talk to you? Or did you manifest them into existence?

"I hope we aren't making you uncomfortable. Buck can come on a little strong when he sees something he wants," Steve said as he gently put a hand on your back to guide you. "Though I can't say I blame him in this case."

“No, it’s okay. He seems nice," you said, smiling to yourself at the compliment. "Even if he needs a drink to accept an apology.”

Steve's chuckle had you shivering as you made your way to the front of the store. "A drink he plans to pay for along with your book," he said, adding his small stack to the pile on the desk.

Standing behind them was a mistake as your gaze went right to their asses. You wondered if your friends would believe you if you told them about the two perfect specimens who could be models if they wanted to. Maybe they were since you had no clue what they did.

Stop staring. Don't think about grabbing their asses. Did they paint their jeans on? God, I need to get laid.

As if Bucky knew you were looking, he glanced over his shoulder and winked. You averted your gaze after that. He was clearly the more playful of the two, but something in his eyes told you he was a man you should take seriously. And Steve? You didn't ever want to be on the receiving end of upsetting or disappointing him.

Not like I'll ever find out. They're not actually taking me for a drink. They'll go their way and I'll go mine.

Bucky thanked the cashier before he turned and handed you your book with a card on top. "Stevie and I are gonna grab a drink at The Howling Commandos in a half hour if you wanna join us. It's just around the corner," he explained as you moved away from the counter. "If not, there are our numbers if you ever wanna chat. Just spare me the heartache and wait 'til we leave before you throw it out."

You curiously ran a finger over the card. It had both Bucky and Steve's names on them, but no business listed. It intrigued you even more now.

Who are you two?

"Thank you for buying my book. You really didn't have to do that," you said, touched that he was kind enough to do that. "And I'm not going to throw your card out."

No one in their right mind would do something like that.

"Thank you. I would've had to listen to him whine all night," Steve said, nudging his friend.

"Not all night. Most of it," Bucky teased. "And it was nothing. Does that mean you'll join us for a drink?" he added, his tone casual, but his gaze hopeful.

I would let you both devour me and I wouldn't object.

"You're really asking me?"

"Yeah, we are," Steve answered, his gaze almost as soft as Bucky's.

You wondered if it was a good idea. As charming as they were, you didn't know them. They didn't give you bad vibes though or the impression that they were playing a prank. Your gut told you to take a chance. Because your couch and books would always be there, but how many opportunities like this would you get?

Maybe they see that I'm a catch. And if it's just a drink and nothing more, it's nice to make new friends.

"I'll join you," you replied, your heart racing when they both smiled. It gave you the boost of confidence to flirt back a little. "If only to spare your feelings."

Both of their eyebrows shot up when you giggled and you took great pleasure in them laughing with you, like the three of you were sharing a private joke.

"Careful, little gem," Bucky smiled as he held the door open for you. "You might just make us fall in love."

"Might?" Steve smiled as they headed out, too. "Oh, I'm looking forward to it."

You managed not to stumble onto the sidewalk at their words. They were just being charming. It had to be. God, they were lethal.

How am I going to survive having drinks with them if they keep flirting like that?

"See you in thirty minutes," you said as you regained your composure.

"Don't be late."

"Otherwise Steve will have to punish you," Bucky winked before they turned and walked away, leaving you awestruck where you stood.

Welp. There go my panties.

So, how long before it takes them to ruin you? And how long before you find out what they do for a living? Hehe. Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Stucky Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[kokiriri]

Time in Emrub vs. The World of Twelve

Soo I was scrolling thru Pinterest and found a manga screenshot that caught my attention.

Now I haven't actually read the Wakfu manga (I need to read it, I know) but I found enough screenshots to piece together an idea of what happened leading up to this scene. From what I've got, the manga covers when Chibi and Grougal are kidnapped by Jiva, the guardian of the months in the Wakfu/Dofus universe. The Brotherhood of the Tofu try to find a way to safely retrieve the Ebony twins and on the way, they stop by Emrub, the dimension where the Eliatrope people live.

Now here's where things get interesting: as shown in both the manga and television series, all the Eliatropes residing in Emrub are children. Qilby mentions that time flows differently in Emrub than it does on the World of Twelve, but not much else is said besides that. This scene in the manga however, sheds more light on just how large the difference is between the two dimensions. The dragon character on the left page asks the Brotherhood "what took them so long" to which Amalia retorts they had only been gone for "a few hours." The dragon then explains that nearly a year had passed on the World of Twelve, which obviously shocks the Brotherhood.

Now what am I getting at? Well, because I was bored and wanted to do something besides my homework, I decided to do a little math to see if the manga accurately explores the difference in time flow between the two dimensions. Keep in mind, a lot of this math is approximate and based on various contextual assumptions, but yeah, let's get into it.

For starters, we know that all the children living in Emrub have resided there since the Eliatrope War that took place thousands of years prior to the events covered in Wakfu. They all are still clearly children when Yugo visits them during his confrontation with Qilby in Season 2, meaning that despite having thousands of years gone by, they haven't really aged at all. There are toddlers amidst the crowd as well, looking around 3-5 years old. Based on this observation, the children couldn't have stayed in Emrub for over 3-5 years, otherwise the existence of those younger children simply wouldn't make sense.

Now, another thing to keep in mind; back in Season 1, Yugo asks the specifics behind his and Adamai's most recent rebirth, to which Grougaloragram explains that since the Emerald twins made the greatest sacrifice during the Eliatrope War, it then took them thousands of years to regenerate wakfu within their dofus. I'm assuming that the Eliatrope children were sent to Emrub shortly before Yugo and Adamai died in combat. This, in part, means that the Eliatropes have lived in Emrub for thousands of earth years. From here is where we apply the math from the manga, as well as where I begin to make some approximations.

For the sake of convenience, I'll be assuming that it took roughly 10,000 years for Yugo and Adamai to reincarnate. I'll also presume that the Brotherhood of the Tofu spent 3 hours in Emrub, since no number is explicitly defined (the only point being made was they spent "a few hours" there, meaning not one, but multiple hours.)

Now let's break it down.

The dragon stated that nearly a year had passed on the World of Twelve while Emrub only experienced 3 hours (again, I'm approximating here.) I'm guessing that "nearly a year" means 11 or so months, but I'll be rounding up to a year because I'm lazy. Therefore, 3 Emrub hours = 1 WoT (World of Twelve) year.

Based on this, 10,000 WoT years = 30,000 Emrub hours. Covert those hours into years, and you get 3.4 years.

During the 10,000 WoT years it took for Yugo and Adamai to be reborn, it was only 3.4 years for the children in Emrub. Pretty crazy.

Here are some other comparisons between the two dimensions to help you wrap your head around the difference:

Sleeping for 9 hours in Emrub takes 3 years on the World of Twelve.

The time it took for Yugo to grow from 0-12 years old on the World of Twelve took 36 hours (or 1.5 days if you prefer) in Emrub.

In the Wakfu OVA, Joris Jurgen is 598 years old. That's 74.75 days (~2.5 months) in Emrub.

And we can break it down even further if you'd like:

15 minutes in Emrub = a month on the World of Twelve

1 minute in Emrub = 2 days on the World of Twelve

1 second in Emrub = 48 minutes on the World of Twelve

(Again, I’m here to remind you that these are all approximations)

These numbers align with what I was discussing earlier -- as the youngest children in the audience appear to be 3-5 years old, 3.4 years is an entirely plausible conclusion. Now, this math is heavily simplified, and I honestly doubt Yugo and Adamai took 10,000 years to reincarnate. ((Grougal's choice to use "thousands of years" as opposed to "TENS of thousands of years" has me thinking that they spent under 10,000 years in their dofus. I simply used 10,000 to show that even at the maximum amount of time Yugo and Ad could've spent in their dofus, the mathematical differences between the two time zones still make sense.)) You get the point.

It's pretty cool to see a piece of media that takes the time to consider details and accuracies like this, because I feel like so often I see plot holes and inconsistencies that books or shows don't bother to cover up. (Don't get me wrong, Wakfu has its fair share of plot holes, it's just nice knowing they took time to think about this small detail.) And although no amount of hours or months are explicitly defined in the canon material, the series recognized that the difference had to be such that the World of Twelve had to experience a year in the time it took Emrub to experience a couple of hours in order for certain developments to make logical sense.

Anyways, that's the end of my insane ramblings. I did this math at like 1 am, so there's a good chance I made a mistake somewhere in my calculations. Don't be shy to correct me if you see any errors or whatever.

[dawn-moths]

Wriothesley x Female Reader

word count: 3000+

(Even after serving your time in the Fortress of Meropide and deciding to return to your life in Fontaine, you still have good reason to drop in and give the Duke a visit from time to time.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! smut, reader is handcuffed with a belt, sub/dom dynamics, fingering, doggy-style (vaginal sex), aftercare.

*ao3 mirror*

***

As Wriothesley tugged his belt free from the loops in his trousers, slow and methodical, he cracked a smirk and huffed out a short breath of a laugh, his voice echoing faintly throughout the room when he said, “Hey, you like magic tricks, don’t you?”

He knows you do. You wouldn’t stop talking about Lyney and Lynette’s latest performance— the deadly precision, the dazzling display of showmanship, the subversion of expectation that left you wonderstruck each and every time. So, when you gave a cute little smile and an eager nod, perking up at the prospect of potential entertainment, well…

The Duke just couldn’t help himself.

He was standing at the bottom of the staircase, biding his time, having enjoyed the view of you immersed deep into some fantasy world between a bundle of dog-eared pages, not a care or concern in the world other than what would become of the fictional characters you’d quickly grown attached to. About an hour or so ago, he’d told you to entertain yourself while he went off to attend to some urgent business, “Shouldn’t take long,” he’d said, and had slipped back into his office without you even noticing. Now, as you stared at him with awaiting, curious eyes, he flexed the belt in his hands, gently testing its strength and give. 

With a playful, beckoning wave of a gloved hand, he said, “Come ‘ere. I wanna show you something…” and you obediently obliged, rising from your seat behind his big desk, leaving your latest literary adventure lying open-faced on the tabletop, to follow after him down the winding spiral staircase and into the bedroom that was hidden below. Wriothesley gripped the strap of burgundy leather tightly in his hands, his fists flexing over it as if trying to contain his eagerness once you were standing before him by the bed, hands lightly clasped behind your back, staring up at him with those big, innocent doe-eyes that made him go a little insane inside.

“Now, watch very closely…” the Duke instructed, though with an air of light mockery as he pretended to sound like the magicians you were so taken by as of late. You hummed out a little giggle at his imitation and watched as he slipped the end of the belt back through the buckle, tugging it through and threading it back around to repeat the first motion, creating a sort of figure 8 design before wrapping the remainder of the leather all the way around and securing it through the middle of the buckle one final time. “Now, hold out your hands.” 

You gave him an inquisitive yet distrusting look, but even before your brain could finish coming up with possible outcomes of where this trick might lead, you were obeying his command and presenting him with both of your wrists side by side out in front of you.

The moment he slipped the widened gaps of the contraption he’d created around your delicate wrists, quickly pulling the loose end he’d looped through the buckle last to cinch the leather flush against your skin, you realized you’d walked right into his trap.

You let out a startled gasp and made small sounds of struggle as you tried to tug your wrists free, but to no avail. Wriothesley let out another one of those silky, sonorous chuckles that sent the flock of butterflies in your tummy aflutter, despite the fact you felt a little betrayed by him weaponizing your naivety against you.

“Really walked into that one, didn’t ya?” he rhetorically asked, crossing his arms and allowing himself to watch your pitiful attempts at escape for a little longer.

“This isn’t magic, it’s just a trick!” you accused, brows pinched slightly in an irritated scowl, still helpless against the worn leather.

“Ah, but, if you’d been paying attention,” Wriothesley began, holding up a finger in accentuation as he strode a few smooth paces closer, “you’d recall I never said I was showing you a magic trick. I simply asked if you liked magic tricks, then said I wanted to show you something.” He looped his extended pointer finger into one of the gaps, lightly pulling your bound wrists and, along with them, yourself, closer toward him.

Lowing his voice to what sounded like nearly a growl, some kind of sinister satisfaction flashing behind his silver gaze, he said, “See what happens when you make baseless assumptions?”

Honestly, Wriothesley was impossible sometimes. Whether it was his mind games or technicalities, he always seemed to find new ways of getting you right where he wanted you while making you do most of the work.

“Ok, show’s over,” you droned, giving him a blatantly unamused look now. “Let me go.”

To this, the Duke merely scoffed.

“Let you go?” he repeated, as if the notion was the most preposterous thing he’d heard all week. He clicked his tongue, shook his head, giving the cuffs another teasing tug, lips splitting into a crookedly amused grin when you let out a quiet, helpless gasp. “Now where’s the fun in that? Besides, I think you know better than most…” He leaned in, lips right beside your ear, and whispered, low and husky, “My prisoners are treated rather well here…”

“I’m not your prisoner,” you reminded him. “At least… Not anymore.”

Because, yes, while you’d once lived under his rule and his reign for the crime you’d committed, those days were now behind you. You’d served your sentence and then chosen to return to the outside world. You’d rather missed your friends and family in Fontaine and, while you’d considered yourself lucky to have gotten into good company with the Duke, you also felt you couldn’t just leave your old life completely behind you.

Hence why you only made trips down into the depths of the Fortress of Meropide for these very special, though oftentimes short visits. You’d gotten a taste of something in this place that the outside world just didn’t have to offer. But, if anyone else had ever been in your position, you doubted they could blame you for indulging the addiction.

“Ok then,” Wriothesley bartered. “Why don’t we make a deal then? You have the next five minutes to get out of these, and if you do, I’ll give you a special prize…” He narrowed his gunmetal gaze at you, something playfully cruel shimmering amidst all that mischievous silver. “But if you can’t, well—” He gave a nonchalant shrug and finished with a rather confident, “then I guess you’ll have to give me something instead.”

“Alright,” you agreed, lifting one eyebrow and now wearing a smirk yourself. “Challenge accepted.” And when you’d entered willingly into his little game, you’d really thought you’d stood a chance. How hard could it be to get out of handcuffs made of leather anyway? It’s not like he’d clapped the metal ones you knew he always kept on his person around your wrists instead. Those, as you’d experienced first hand, were absolutely inescapable.

But as the minutes passed, you struggling more and more with each one that ticked by, Wriothesley keeping an eye on his watch as he leaned back against the wall opposite the bed, eyes flicking up to watch you writhe and grunt as you tried and failed to pull your wrists free, you were beginning to regret being so cocky.

Besides, Wriothesley had never been one to let someone beat him at his own game.

“And… Three… Two… One,” Wriothelsey announced, marking the end of the challenge and your loss of the bet. “Better luck next time, hon,” he said through a mocking pout, looking only half apologetic for a second before approaching you again. “Guess it’s time you give the winner his prize.”

His tall shadow swallowed your form, eyes staring up at him in that delectably pleading, helpless way he’d grown so addicted to back when you were one of his inmates. Your face said you were awaiting punishment but your body was anticipating pleasure, that warm, rolling feeling of arousal tightening in your lower belly.

“Oh…” you rolled your eyes as Wriothesley pinned you to his bed, cuffed wrists clasped in one of his big, rough hands above your head. “And to think,” you teased, “that you’d be so predictable now.”

Wriothesley flashed you a dangerous look, one of a sharp-toothed smirk and half-lidded eyes that almost seemed to glow in the dim light, clicking his tongue as if disappointed in you, increasing his grip on the cuffs while he began to undo the button on his trousers with the other.

“So mouthy today,” he remarked, that familiar growl laced into his tone. The one that warned you you were on thin fucking ice. The one that you often ignored, kept on pushing just to see how far he’d let you go. More often than not, this earned you double the original punishment he’d had in store for you, but secretly, you liked that. Once Wriothesley had caught onto that fact, it hadn’t stopped him. He’d just learned how to twist things so he got to have a little fun too. “Guess I’ll have to remind you what happens when you talk back…”

Cock already hard and aching as he gripped it in his hand, you gasped when he roughly hiked up your skirt and grinded his erection against your dampening panties, your breath hitching in your chest every time his velvety tip brushed against your swollen, sensitive little clit, wanting more, needing more.

And Wriothesley knew he’d soon have you exactly where he wanted you. That defiant attitude of yours reduced to nothing more than a chorus of pathetic whines and pleading for him to “get inside me, please— Please, Wrio, I need it!”

And he’d give you what he wanted. No matter how much he tried to act cold and callous you knew he had a soft spot just for you. But before he did, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t use the opportunity to make you squirm just for the hell of it.

“Awww, what’s the matter, sweetheart?” the Duke cooed, words dripping with saccharine condensation. He used both hands to secure your hips as he grinded down against you harsher than before, nearly knocking the breath from his own lungs as he sighed out a strained, “Suddenly— fuck— at a loss for words?”

You were desperately trying to cant your hips upwards to gain more friction, but his firm grip on you made that impossible. You’d completely forgotten he’d let go of your wrists, though they were still securely bound, merely chasing the fleeting pleasure he was reluctantly granting you.

“Ok… Ok, Wrio, please—” you finally broke, sentence clipped off into a delicate, musical little mewl, soft as a feather floating on a breeze. “Please, I’ll be good, just— Please—”

Wriothesley couldn’t take much more of this either, so, per your unclarified request, he swiftly pushed your soaked panties aside and slipped two of his thick digits into your weeping cunt, sucking in a small hiss of a breath through clenched teeth when he curled his fingers inside and felt how tight your pussy was trying to squeeze him, craving something bigger to fill it up.

You shivered, already beginning to feel that tight coil in your core pulling taut, mouth hanging open in silent ecstasy, huffing out panting little breaths and eyes rolling beautifully as your back began to arch off the firm mattress. Wriothesley’s skilled fingers worked you over like it’s what they’d been designed to do, the calloused pad of his thumb rubbing rough circles over your pulsing little bud, gaze glued to your leaking little hole, mesmerized by how gorgeous you were like this, completely bent to his will.

“Archons, baby…” He said, soft and in awe like reciting a prayer, spreading your slick around like an artist creating his next masterpiece. “What am I gonna do with you?”

Fuck me, you wanted to answer. Fuck me until all I know is you, you, and nothing but you.

Wriothesley then seemed to come to some kind of conclusion, the contemplation shining in his eyes as fast and as bright as a shooting star. Then, he was gripping your hips again and flipping you over, instructing you to stay on your elbows and knees as he lined himself up with your fluttering entrance.

“Wrio…?” you asked, his name sounding fragile and broken and confused as it left your succulent little mouth.

He hushed you, gentle and reassuring, suddenly gone all sweet and soft for you like he usually tended to do, once he was done playing his games with you. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, leaning over you to press his warm, broad chest against your back. “Just trust me.”

Slowly, carefully, he began to nudge his way into your needy little hole, wrapping his arms around you and helping you to adjust until you found the position that felt the best for the both of you. Then, once he was fully inside and you were recovered from the sweet, stinging stretch of him, Wriothesley began to move, the motion of his hips smooth and intentional, nearly pulling all the way out before pushing back in, the rhythm gaining more speed every couple of thrusts.

By now, a thin sheen of sweat had broken out on both your brows, your legs beginning to tremble when he grazed over that sweet, spongy spot deep inside you, the one you could never quite reach on your own. Still holding you close, he used one hand to massage more skillful circles onto your already overstimulated little bundle of nerves, the pressure ebbing and flowing between soft and hard, trying to keep your orgasm at bay for just a little longer.

“Wrio—” you moaned, all pliable and angelic and all his, his, his.

“Almost there, baby—? God—!” The air was punched from Wriothesley’s lungs upon his next thrust, his normally sure and even voice cracked and fissured by a strangled whine, movements beginning to become erratic as he neared his own edge. He tightened his arms around your body, trying to hold you impossibly close, truly become one with you, as if your soul could melt right into his like two pieces of candy left out too long in the sun, gooey and combined and no longer distinguishable from one another, only known henceforth as their own unique, singular entity. 

“‘M gonna—!” You suddenly gasped, your silky walls clenching around his cock hard enough to lace his next breath with a beautiful whimper, both your bodies tensing under the shared release, soaking and filling each other to the brim with each other’s balmy pleasure.

You went slack in Wriothesley’s hold, which didn’t lessen an inch until he’d found his way back to reality, temporarily blinded by the all-encompassing sensation of bliss your body always gifted him. Once his vision could focus and his brain could think, he carefully pulled out of you, allowing you to lower all the way down to the mattress, completely spent and limbs like jelly.

The Duke unfastened the belt-cuffs from around your wrists, tossing the twisted mangle of leather aside and laying across from you, tenderly taking your sore, slightly chafed wrists in his grasp and placing tender kisses along the thin, delicate skin, murmuring little praises to you that you barely registered in your fucked-out state.

“So good for me… Always so good for me…” he hummed, his chaste, closed mouth kisses traveling further up your arms as if he intended to place his lips to every inch of you. “My perfect, perfect girl…”

You were pulled back to earth by the time his lips found yours, parting them for him as if on instinct, tethered by the way his tongue refamiliarized itself with the shape of your mouth.

It was languid, messy, threatening to stir up that honey-dipped lust for him that never seemed to abate inside of you again. But then Wriothesley pulled away, only far enough to gaze lovingly into your eyes, smiling— actually smiling— to himself at the sight of you, glowing with a post-sex haze.

“Wrio…?” you spoke, voice like a butterfly’s wing.

“Hmm…?” he hummed, gently brushing the back of his knuckles along your soft cheek.

“Do you…” You hesitated then, knowing the question was one you were afraid to ask. Had been afraid to ask for a while, only because you knew his answer could possibly change the path of your fate. You swallowed hard, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to bask in his gentle touches for a few strokes longer. Then you said, “Do you ever wish I would’ve stayed?”

Wriothesley’s ministrations paused, something unreadable now swimming in all that entrancing silver. He threaded his long fingers through your hair, bringing his forehead to rest against yours, taking in a long, deep breath just to share the same air as you.

“I only wish I could go with you,” he murmured, the confession barely a whisper, so quiet, as if he were afraid the very admittance would sink the Fortress to the very bottom of the sea. Then he opened his eyes, leaned back a few inches to meet yours again, and added on a solemn, “Sometimes…”

You wrapped your arms around him then, wanting to keep him close, wanting to lay here like this with him forever. But eventually, you drifted off to sleep. When you did, Wriothesley only allowed himself to stay beside you a few minutes longer before going to tend to cleaning both of you up, wiping away the mess between your legs you two had made as gently as possible so he wouldn’t wake you. He knew, when you rose, you’d have to say your goodbyes and return to the surface.

“Not goodbye,” you’d always remind him after your parting kiss, giving him one of those innocent little smiles that made him wonder how you’d ever survived this place at all, your eyes glittering with affection. “Only until next time.”

Until next time, Wriothesley thought. And then, how lucky I am to have earned a next time.

***

(Honestly, I just saw a video of someone making handcuffs with a belt and thought, “You know who would do that… Wriothesley,” lol

But anyway, I hope you enjoyed and are having as much fun with the new Fontaine characters as I am heehee :) 

Hope everyone has a wonderful day!)

[hazbinhotel-bitch]

He Knows: Alastor x (Name)

(Name) had a few more times after being confronted by Alastor. She was a little surprised he knew who she was, but she knew he had many connections and probably sent out his shadows to keep an eye on every Overlord and probably noticed a reoccurring face. (Name) was glad that Alastor let her continue with her research to see if it was worth writing about. But with the few visits she made she started to like their company, there was a certain pull about the sinners that resided in the Hotel.

(Name) was by the bar talking with Husk and Angel-Dust. They were all chatting and laughing as (Name) was telling them of her times as a human. Granted she did have to look back at her journal that she kept a page entry of memorable memories of her life. She kept a few of her happily memories as a human where she would bring up in conversations from time to time.

"So picture this; it's late at night. I was a young woman dressing like a young man but if I'm being honest I looked like little boy, but I was trying to get into a pub that lead to an underground fight club. So when they kicked me out from the front door I decided to get in through the back, luckily for me knew the building layout so I was able to break into a home that had a connecting basement." she explained "But because of the two Basements were connected I though it'd be easy but, it turned out this place was connected through several other building and I ended up getting lost."

Angel just laughed at the misfortune she had and called her a stupid bitch which she took no offence. She was pretty young at the time she was only in her early 20s at the time so she thought she knew everything. But in the end she published her experience in the underground tunnels and that many building basements that connected intricately with one another. She went on to talk about how if she stayed longer she was afraid she would find the underground people who live in the swerves. In the end of anecdote she compared the idea of meeting the underground cavillation is no different to hell itself and the people inhabiting the place. Through out this Alastor was listening from a distance with an arched brow, he kept his smile up as he let his intellectual mind wonder.

She certainly has a way with her story telling... and she does seem to captivate people with her charms.

Alastor thought as he watched her with a slight curious gaze. In no means did he think he was lacking in his work with the broadcast she's had for years, but in the seven year hiatus he took notice that no many sinners cared he had left or when he came back, aside from Vox the demon with the TV head who was pissed that Alastor decided to come back to the limelight. But Alastor had been keeping tabs a fairly known writer under the name of Siege, a couple of decade after he arrived he noticed paper article titled "Siege's Scandal Sheets" where it would be highly detailed of very sensitive subjects on many Overlords and even those from Ars Goetia and the Seven Deadly Sins. The Radio demon was rather impressed but wary but soon caught on that the scandal sheets has started to slow down since (Name) made an appearance near the Hazbin hotel. It wasn't long until he realized (Name) was the cunning writer, Siege from the scandal sheets of hell.

Alastor was debating whether to use (Name) to his advantages and have her work for him to get him more stories of hell to get his listenership up again, and who better than the infamous Siege of the scandal sheets.

"Ah My dear (Name)" Alastor finally said making his way to the trio of sinners "What a lovey anecdote"

(Name) sighed with a smile still recalling her time as a young human journalist doing whatever she could to get the biggest story with freedom.

"I was curious my dear. If you were journalist in your human life, what are you doing here in hell of an occupation?" Alastor asked with a smile.

(Name) didn't trust his interest. When she started showing up more and more Alastor either avoided her like she was a fly on a wall or if she started to try and get some kind of information he would belittle her simply offer her a deal of an exchange of secrets which she refused. But this was new. He was asking her of her occupation in hell.

Does he know? Surly he know... he's one a very intelligent and cunning man. There's no way he doesn't know who I am... or maybe I'm looking too much into it. Maybe he is wondering why I am here all the time... that has to be the reason he is asking me.

(Name) thought to herself in her inner monologue moment in her mind as she simply stared at Alastor. From the outside it looked like she was simply taking in his features, as if she were to paint his face on a canvas and she was simply as admiring. But she smirked when she noticed his smile twitch in annoyance along with his eye as he waited for her answer.

"I've had a few odd jobs here and there, but Journalism doesn't really work well here in hell. Velvette is the main dominator when it come to news here in Hell" (Name) mentioned with a shrug.

"Perhaps... but Velvette never facts checks her news, which makes her unreliable. Feeble gossip and nothing more" Alastor mused out "But~"

His voice was like a sing song tone. (Name) could feel her heart race as he drew closer to her as his smile seemed far more sinister now.

"There is one person the people of hell wait for" he was close to her face before he straightened up with pride as he looked down at her "Aside from myself that is"

"And who is that Mr. Radio demon" she scoffed trying to keep her tone aloof like her expression.

"Siege of the Scandal Sheets"

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

Previous Chapter: Here Next Chapter: Here

[eludin]

THE CROWN'S WHORE | CHAPTER ONE

WARNINGS: Addiction themes, sexual content, manipulation, dark themes, incest (this is Westeros people), grooming, and possibly more in the future.

The Realm's Delight wasn't Rhaenyra Targaryen once Vyera Waters started walking and talking. She was unaffected by the sexual moments held within the brothel she called home and would often approach the clients without hesitation. The whores around her try to coral her away, but she had her father's stubbornness. She slipped out of their grasp and pestered the clients for their stories since most were knights, children of lords, or lords in general.

She grinned widely and listened with apt attention, easily washing away the agitation they may have had with a bastard brat bothering their fun times. She made cute and sometimes strange noises at certain parts of the story, dramatically reacting at the more messy bits. They laughed at her very open reactions.

The Gold Cloaks quickly turned into regulars, bearing toys, books, and whatever a little princess could wish for. One smile from Vyera and they melted. They proudly told her stories, not only of themselves but also of her father. They listened just as attentively when she shared stories from her dreams; of talking cats whose grins sent a chill down one's spine and who vanished and reappeared before your eyes, hot deserts with horses made from sand threatening to bury you deep within the dunes, or riding the back of a bird the size of a dragon with feathers made of steal.

Ariston Algood smiled as the girl flipped through her new book. Many prayed for the poor girl to be the occasional late bloomer. That was the only thing keeping her from being thrown into the beasts' den.

Just one more day, one more month, one more year without that light that shone from within her being snuffed out by scum who desired to torment and corrupt that light.

Yet, no Gods answered their prayers.

She had bled a day prior and was now dressed in provocative clothing. No longer the baggy rags she used to wore, but a dress made of thin, almost see through, fabric. It looked peculiar on a girl of nine name days. Only the worst of scum would find pleasure in the sight.

"Riz?"

He smiled and patted her head. "Thinking, squirrel."

Vyera rolled her and scowled at the words sprawled on the page. "Dragon, not squirrel." Her words didn't fit her cuteness as she pouted and patted the thick pages. "And you're supposed to be teaching me how to pronounce these words."

Ariston laughed and joined her on the bed. Books with varying thickness surrounded her and most he never cared to read until Vyera. They never seemed all that interesting. It was just words on the page. What good were words when actions could be seen centuries after the person had passed? Yet, she hugged them close as if they were a fine treasure worth more than the gold mines at Casterly Rock. She brightened up at the usual pleasures, like jewels and beautiful dresses and gifts, but books got a loud and vibrant reaction.

She bounced off the walls of the Whore's Blood Brothel with each book, eagerly snatching from any offering hand and pestering the person to read it with her.

Some of the married lords who visited bonded more with her than their own children. "I wish my children had such a hunger for knowledge as you," said the Heir of Blanetree, running his fingers through her locks. She had preened under his touch and giggled, like a dog eager for treats and praises.

Lord Broom sighed, "A whore's daughter knows duty and grace better than my own daughter."

"Such a pity."

None did anything to change her situation; not that the girl complained. She clung to her mother and the brothel as any child would cling to their home and their mother. A year or two more and that opinion would certainly change.

Ariston leaned closer to Vyera and looked over the page. "Where are you finding difficulty understanding?"

"What does this mean?" she taps at the word abomination.

Fuck.

He peaked at the book's name. Just as he thought, it spoke of the Faith. "Uh... Something going against the order of the Gods. Like, um... the... the Children of the Forest with their magic." Sweat gathered at the base of his neck. "Don't you want to read something else?"

Vyera frowned and stared at him. For a Dragonseed, she resembled her father incredibly close yet there were a few traits none knew where they came from. They knew without uncertainty that Narelle of the Whore's Blood was the girl's mother. Yet she carried traits neither side of her lineage granted. Her eyes were golden and flecked with silver. Her canine teeth were ever so slightly pointier and sharper than most. Even as a child, her features were already showing a sharpness no girl her age naturally possessed. Unlike either parent, she possessed an innate glow that simply compelled every man who entered her presence to shower her with gifts, praises, and affection. Some were less pure than others, but she paid little mind to those types.

Her expression softened once she saw whatever there was in his eyes. "No need. Tis' truly fascinating to read how certain sorts of individuals view the world." She paused, and added, "And don't worry about the stuff on bastards. It doesn't hurt me. I know who I am, and I am not everything that is written in this."

"You are none of what is written."

She smiled and pressed against his side. "Riz?"

"Hm?"

Vyera curled up and hugged herself. Instead of the girl he'd grown to care for, a child frightened off the future revealed herself to him. "The brothel master will want me to lose my maidenhead. Doesn't matter I am a child, he's gonna want evidence." She peaked at him through her dense locks. "I don't want it to be any of the others. I care for them, and I know they would never intend to hurt me. I... Please... Please be the first once my moonblood ends. I... I don't want it to be anyone else."

Oh, fuck… She… As much as he gagged at the thought of any of the Lords lusting over Vyera, it made painful sense.

Ariston was not that far in age from her. Only seven namedays apart. It was still strange yet… 

He looked down at the girl who skipped up to him, even when he was running his hands along her mother’s sides. Now that had been mortifying. She smiled widely and rushed him with a hundred different questions. Their second meeting didn’t go any better either. Neither did their third. Yet, she cared for him, eagerly listened to his stories of his home, of his older siblings, of his parents, and now… looked to him for protection from any who wished to destroy whatever innocence she protected with a tiny dagger.

He had no doubt she’d ask any of her other friends the same favor. After all, he couldn’t spend the entire day with her. His pockets did not boast such a fortune. And yet…

“If that is your wish.”

He couldn’t free her from the brothel’s clutches; he couldn’t shower her with luxurious gifts; he couldn’t protect her as he wished. But he could do this.

Vyera Waters smiled. A waning moon in comparison to the usual exuberance.

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[twstfanblog]

~Manhwa AU- A Fairytale Do-Over~ Pt 3

A/N: Writing has been so hard recently and there's no reason for it. Other than making me mad I think >:( But here's the next part! I'm going to start making a taglist for this series, so reply if you want to be added so you'll be alerted to the next part being posted! thank you and have a grand time reading! Word Count: 3.7K Pairings: Sibling Leona & Farena Warnings: Alluded to child neglect Lilia's cooking Prev / Next

A month had passed since Malleus’s birthday and Yuu still refused to accept any of Lilia's requests for playdates.

She sighed, turning the page of a book she remembered never finishing. Her family's personal library had become a small sanctuary for her recently. The magically enlarged room was like a maze; towering dark wood shelves filled with books that were easy to get lost in without a map. A hidden nook close to the three floor-to-ceiling grand windows, the enchanted fireplace crackling peacefully while Yuu or her fathers would rest on overstuffed decorative pillows reading together. The perfect place to run and hide from a very overzealous bat fae who wanted to feed her a ‘home-cooked meal’ to make her feel better enough to come visit the imperial palace. Yuu only needed to glance at the pot of noxious black sludge to be given a traumatic memory of what would happen to someone who ate Lilia's cooking…

While Lilia was more than free to chase her around the manor, her father was quick to stop the fae from running after her into ‘his library’. The family library obviously held the precious books of the Crowley family; Yuu’s favorite playscripts and fairytales, Divus’s historical fashion logs and his various past fashion sketchbooks. Dire even kept a small collection of older spell books in the room, some possibly older than the empire itself. Lilia's cooking could melt the bones of a whale, Yuu was sure of it, divine only knows what it'd do to a poor flimsy book.

So, the library was safe. For now at least. There was no telling where her parents would forbid her from entering in the name of her ‘health’ if they worried anymore.

Her parents continued to grow more and more concerned over her personality shift. They thought she didn’t notice, standing at her bedside in the middle of the night and speaking in hushed tones about what to do. Her papa would sit on her bed and run his hand along one of her braids while he grilled her father on what he was doing to get a mage doctor to their home.

Yuu couldn’t use magic, so she wasn’t entirely sure why her papa thought a mage doctor was needed (Only a few days later did she realize that her papa thought she had been cursed. Which was possibly true, time travel and all…). Dire had managed to deflect each time Divus asked, tucking her tighter into her covers before leaving the room, a silently furious Divus following after him. They’d try to broach the topic during breakfast each morning, asking if she had anymore strange dreams, if something new had appeared in her room, or even if someone had spoken to her.

It didn’t ease their concerns when Yuu denied anything new or strange happening, but Yuu wondered how much they would panic if she said something did happen. While it could potentially be funny, she’s almost completely sure her fathers would put her through an intense magical purge ceremony that would actually make her ill.

Sighing, Yuu closed the book, placing it on her reading nook’s ‘to be continued’ pile. It had been at least an hour since Lilia had shown up to the duchy, her parents had hopefully either sent the old fae home or were having a discussion over wine. Leaving Yuu to freely walk around the library again.

Thumbing through a book on gardening (though the pictures were more interesting than the semi-faded blocks of text), Yuu suddenly felt a chill creep into their spine. Kalim had described the feeling to her once, recounting one of the many tales of failed kidnappings and assassinations; the feeling of being watched.

Yuu did their best to remain calm, following Kalim’s advice. It's no good to let them know you know, act as nonchalantly as you could until you were in a safer location. (A conversation that had originally terrified them, only for Kalim’s beaming smile to promise that no harm would ever befall his dearest friend. Not so long as she had him and Jam-)

Swallowing, Yuu slowly closed the book and started to walk down the aisle. Maybe they were just there to steal something and Yuu had unfortunately been in their line of sight. A notion that was quickly dashed feeling the eyes stay on them and the sounds of footsteps following them. Yuu hates to admit it, but she panicked and broke out into a sprint.

Whoever was following her remained silent, keeping up with her easily through the turns and weaving between aisles. A part of her wanted it to be Lilia, since the worst that could happen was she'd have to have a bite of whatever he brought masquerading as a stew. Then again, that might actually kill them…

Panting, fed up with the sudden game of cat and mouse, Yuu ran around a corner and turned around quickly. The heavy book on plants raised in the air over her head and thrown blindly to whoever was chasing them. A multicolored blur appeared from around the corner, narrowly dodging the book in a sloppy side step. The two children looked at the heavy book on the ground, the thud it made echoing through the library briefly but the true horror was the fact the book had nearly exploded on contact with the ground. Pages of text and a stray beautifully illustrated flower fluttering to the ground in their silence.

The other child stared at the pile of paper that was once a book, blinking in shock before turning to Yuu with a glare and crossed arms, “What, are you trying to kill me?”

Yuu blinks then yells at the boy, poking a finger furiously into his chest, “You were the one chasing me!?”

The boy huffed, rolling his eyes and swatting her hand away, “I was just playing around. You're the one throwing ancient texts at people.”

“It wasn't ancient.” Yuu hoped it wasn't ancient. But, casting a glance at the pile, Yuu wondered if they were stronger than they remembered being as an eight-year-old…

Shaking her head, she brushed off the concern. The book was probably just…very old (please not ancient), her father would be able to replace it easily or fix it, “Anyway! Why are you in here? I've never seen you before.”

The boy raises an eyebrow, almost sneering back at her, “I'm a guest. Why are you scurrying around here like a rat?”

“Like a-I live here, you shithead!”

The boy stepped back, eyes wide in shock either from her yelling or from realizing who she was, “Wait…you're the Crowley girl?”

“What of it? You haven't even introduced yourself to me in my own house!”

Rolling his eyes again, the boy stepped closer to walk a slow circle around her, studying her with a sharp eye, “It's just surprising, ya know? Rumor has it, you're supposed to be sick as death in bed. Not taking any visitors nor going to any of your little friends’ socials.” He smirks, tilting his head, “But instead of seeing some sickly child, I see a little rat who's healthy enough to throw books with deadly force.”

“...” Yuu frowns, nearly sneering at the smug boy, “I'm not going to stand here and listen to some boy in a hand-me-down dashiki-...you're Leona Kingscholar.”

Leona was taken aback, tilting his head, “How do you guess? Other people wear dashikis, you know…”

Yuu nodded, but pointed to various areas of the garment as she spoke, “Yeah, but very few have actual gold embroidery on them. not to mention the overall state of it; it's faded but only in high friction areas. Meaning it was for casual wear instead of formal seeing, again, the authentic gold threading. And the sleeves's been stitched up, not professionally since it's affected the appearance of the pattern. It's not concrete, but that's normally a sign of sentimental value since it's merely to keep the fabric intact instead of presentable to the public.”

“...” Leona sighed, crossing his arms as he looked off to the side annoyed, “And that clearly shows you're the child of Duke Crewel. Only someone with his textile-obsessed blood would deduce me as a Kingscholar from my clothing rather than being a lion beastman…”

“Who else would I be? Though my parents love each other, they aren't having another baby anytime soon. Plus, I'm already an only child…”

Leona coughed, struggling to hold in his laughter before clearing his throat to speak, “I assumed you were Duke Crowley's oh-so-elusive student I've heard the adults whispering About. Many of them were pretty pissed after learning their darling little brownnosers weren't going to get access to your family's private collection of ancient grimoires.”

Yuu's face pinched together, eyes scanning along the floor as she dug through her mind. Just like a normal dream, her past life had quickly started to fade from her memory as the weeks went on. Anything past her 12th birthday had become hidden in fog though anything before then was slightly clearer. But even so, she had no memory of her father having a student of any kind. In fact she's not even sure her parents allowed other children in their manor besides her, she couldn't remember ever hosting a playdate at the Crowley duchy at least…

“My…my father doesn't have a student? At least I've never met them…”

“...” Leona hums, short and absolute, as though he had gained a piece of a puzzle no one else had noticed on the table yet. Yuu watched in real-time as Leona made the mental decision to keep said piece to himself.

The beastman smiles, his ears flicking only once in what could only be excitement, “Interesting…oh well. It's only a rumor after all.”

Yuu rolls her eyes. From memory, Leona did have a bad reputation as a troublemaker, “Fun. You still haven't told me why you're in my house though. I'm pretty sure the Kingscholar duchy is to the east of the capital, not the north.”

Leona shrugs, fingers gliding over ornate spines of books before he pulls his hand away, making a face when it comes back covered in dust, “My brother is getting a measurement done. He brought me along claiming I could be fitted for my coming-of-age robes if there was time.”

“...But your 10th birthday has already passed, hasn't it? You should have had them by now.”

“...” Sighing, the beastman clicked his tongue in a moment of annoyance, “Shut up. You don't even know anything…”

Yuu tapped her chin, thinking hard about what she could remember of the Sunset Savanna clothing culture, “You're supposed to get them on your tenth birthday, As a rite of passage right? Thanking the gods for allowing you into your first stage of life or something like that…” Lord, just how much knowledge about clothing did she have at this age? It was hard to tell what were bits and pieces from her past life and what was simply drilled into her young by her papa.

Leona was quiet, looking away from Yuu's curious expression, “It's a ceremony of blessings. In the Savanna, once a child reaches ten, it's thought a number of bad omens aren't able to take hold of them anymore. But that also leaves them vulnerable to omens that plague adults. So either the community chief or head of the house is supposed to anoint them; bring them the blessing and protection of their family or community's ancestors…”

Yuu nods, Dire had talked about the ceremony once or twice, having barged in during one of her lessons with Divus to deliver unasked-for information, “Your father is the heir to the Sunset Savanna kingdom, but he stays near the Noctorn capital to build alliances. As the Savanna prince, he'd be liable to use the family sword to-”

…

Yuu paused in her stream of conscious babble. The ceremony could use a number of items to bless the child so to speak. Her father had told her of a number of ways he had personally bore witness to; an elderly woman shaking a branch over children, fine gold dust being spread on cheeks in patterns, even fresh spring water being poured over their heads and clothes.

But the Kingscholars, the Kingscholars used a sword. Tapping the unsheathed blade along the shoulders and then once against the forehead.

Looking at Leona, she finally noticed that one side of his bangs were longer. Dark brown waves that framed against a eye that was a shade lighter than the other, slightly hiding the clean vertical line of raised dark pink skin.

“...” Yuu bit her lip, wondering…if she should ask, “...Leona…how'd you get that scar?”

Leona stared at the floor, gently pressing a claw down the still-sensitive skin.

Leona sat beside a vent in the hallway, legs pulled up to his chin and arms wrapped around them. He was looking down to the ground, eyes unblinking as he listened to his father rant and yell.

“-utter embarrassment! And you want to reward another one of his tantrums!?”

Farena’s voice rings out, softer yet still carrying the hard edge his father's had, “I'm not rewarding him. I'm taking him with me to my appointment with the Duke Crewel. Leona's only getting a fitting if there's time-”

“You don't need that design book then! That mutt of a duke doesn't need it because he isn't making traditional garments. Especially not for that-”

“Enough!” Leona could hear the snarl in his brother's voice, clearly able to imagine the fury on the face that matched their father better than his ever did, “Just because you're upset Lord Lilia hasn't responded to your letters yet, doesn't mean Leona is at fault! I refuse to let you place it on him just because he acted out on the prince's birthday!”

“BAH! So you admit it! He's acting out and you're-”

“I'm giving Leona his due! You know damn well he was supposed to have his ceremonial dressings last year. You were supposed to send for someone from the homeland to fit him properly! You were supposed to bless him! You go on and on about how back home we are kings and not dukes and should act as such, and then you treat your own son like he's less!”

“He is LESS! Sickly! Defiant! Brazen! He's been weak and less than since the day he was born!”

“...How…DARE YOU!? Don't you dare blame that fever on Leona! He only got sick because you forbade the physician from tending to him when he got hurt! He may fully lose his sight in his eye because you wanted to punish him!”

“He should have never touched that sword! That is for the heir or head of the house! The true princes of our family line, he had no right to touch it!”

“We are all the princes of this family. Grandmother rules the Savanna in your place while you continue to make fancy with dead royalty you never even liked.” The rustling of papers, a flourish of fabric, “I'm leaving for my appointment, I'm taking Leona with me and that is final.”

It was soft, angrily and bitterly mumbled as Farena stomped out of the room. The sound of his father's liquor cabinet opening, the older man muttering, “Leave him there while you're at it.” 

The sound of Farena slamming the door made his ears hurt.

And that's how his brother finds him, back against a wall with his eyes pressed into his knees and arms to hide away his tears. Farena sighs, kneeling down and putting a hand to his shoulder, “Leona-”

Leona quickly shrugged his brother’s hand away, moving to stand on his own and rubbing harshly at his eyes, “I don’t want your pity, Farena-”

He was pulled into his brother’s arms, the older prince breathing calmly in an effort to center Leona and himself. Farena pulls away once he feels Leona untense his body, smiling and brushing the younger boy’s hair from his face, “It’s not pity…No matter what we become to each other. Know that I never pitied you…”

“...” With a final sniffle, Leona rubbed his eyes one last time before he nods, “Okay…”

“Come. We have to leave if we’re going to have time for you to get your fitting.”

“...It was an accident.”

As though that wasn't the most heartbreaking and concerning thing Yuu had ever heard. But Yuu wasn't going pick at an already tender wound, “I see…what…what was the Sunset Savanna like? There’s a lot of various areas like deserts and jungles, right? Was it fun exploring there?”

“I wouldn't know. In theory, I know what it's like there but I've never been, I was born here.”

“Oh!?”

Leona nods, “My brother remembers moving though, he's told me stories and every now and again we get visitors or refugees coming to our duchy.”

Yuu hummed, looking down the aisle, “I think we have a book on the Savanna somewhere…” She waved Leona away, “There should be a table with snacks around. Wait for me there while I go get it.”

“Don't you order me around…”

She was already walking away, looking over her shoulder with a glare, “Just go eat some snacks while I go find the book.”

Finding the book wasn't too hard. The library was normally organized weekly, though even then random books would appear in the wrong place. Luckily, Yuu was able to find the book of their desire easily. Pulling it off the shelf they nearly fell to the floor at the sheer weight of it. Huffing, maneuvering it in their arms to rush off to her and Leona's meeting spot.

The other young lord was luckily seated at the table, picking at the selection of cookies and other finger foods left out. He looks over, snickering at seeing just how much she was struggling, “Poor, sickly, Yuu. Even a book is too much for the grand lady now…”

Yuu glared over the large book, managing to haul it with her onto the stool before dropping the book on the table and releasing a cloud of dust. Her expression turns malicious as Leona starts hacking and coughing, sending more dust in his direction as she opens the book and lets the heavy pages fall to the table.

Leona waves the dust away from his sensitive nose, glaring through his teary eyes as he sneezed again, “Brat.”

“Bastard. Your family is the reigning line, isn't it? So you'd have stayed in the capital, right?”

For the next hour, the two spent their time looking through the book, Yuu asking him questions for a more in-depth look at the foreign land. And while Leona had never been to his homeland, he still knew more than Yuu and was more than elated to lecture the younger girl on what she had gotten wrong.

Soon, Leona could hear his brother calling out to him in the distance. He looks to Yuu, tugging on her hair to gain her attention, “I’ve got to go, my brother is calling me.”

Yuu nods, closing the book and holding it out to Leona, “Here. You can take this home with you.”

“Why are you giving me one of your books?” Leona still takes the book, tucking the hardcover under his arm and looking at Yuu in question.

Shaking her head, Yuu smiled, “Not giving it to you. It’s a loan. So you’ll have to come visit me again.”

“...” Leona laughs, short and behind his hand before returning Yuu’s smile, “Deal. I’ll come visit again since you clearly need someone to ramble to. I’ll bring the book back when I feel like it.” He ruffles Yuu’s hair roughly, making the younger girl almost fall over from the force of it.

“HEY!” Yuu smacks at Leona’s hand, pouting as the beastman runs out of the library to meet his brother. She sighs, trying to smooth down her hair lest her papa see her with her hair in disarray.

Leona Kingscholar was a troublemaker, that was the common trait anyone could give him. She remembered bits and pieces of her fathers talking about the young lord, each of them remarking what a shame it was. Leona wasn’t as physically strong as the rest of his family, but the younger lord was smarter, a fact his father always overlooked in favor of his older brother. Yuu couldn’t remember the two brothers ever having a negative relationship. Then again, she remembers one of the Kingscholar brothers leaving with their father back to the Sunset Savanna when the queen mother is on her deathbed. Sadly, she couldn’t remember which went.

If anything, Leona would be a good person to talk to if she went along with her plan. Breaking ties with Malleus was impossible, but her other two playmates would be easy enough, though it would be painful. And while it had only been a few weeks, things settled well enough. Malleus didn’t ever send her letters anyway, she would simply stop sending him letters. The hardest part would be breaking her friendship with Kalim and running from Lilia’s visits.

Leona wasn’t meant to be a replacement in any way. The youngest Kingscholar was almost isolated from others because of his abrasive attitude a trait Yuu unknowingly shared. Even if they didn’t become anything more than library friends, they’d at least have each other to speak to this time around.

Leona looked out the window of the moving carriage, the borrowed book resting in his lap while his brother rambled on.

“-weirdly thorough. I had thought we’d have more time for your fitting, but it wasn’t in the cards this visit. I did leave the book of designs with Duke Crewel, though. So when I go back for my second fitting, I’ll make sure you can see him.” Farena looks over, frowning as Leona doesn’t respond to him. Sighing, he tugged on his little brother’s ear to gain his attention, “How about we go out for lunch? We don’t need to head home just yet.”

“...” Leona’s eyes glance down at the book on his lap, smirking as he looked up to his brother, “I met a ghost in the Crowley library.” “You what?"

You made it! Have some art I did of the babies and their outfits in this chapter

[megantheebaddest]

Ghostin’

summary: anon request - need a drew x reader where she’s also a famous actress and got introduced to drew by madeline but upon knowing eachother , she finds out drew is messing with odessa and she just ends up ghosting him and never speaking to him and doesn’t know why reader hasn’t talked to him!

warnings: Odessa 🤣

“How are you and Drew doing? I feel like you never update me anymore.” Madelyn said pouting out her lower lip. She was sitting on the couch wrapped under the blanket you two were sharing.

“Yeah. Not much to update you on. Apparently he’s really busy filming his movie.” You shrug and start fumbling with your fingers. “i’ve asked him a handful of times when i can come visit him while i’m off from filming but..”

Madelyn scrunched her eyebrows as if she knew something. Your eyes met hers and you started to panic.

“What? Why do you look like that?” you questioned.

“Well.. i don’t know. i just.. i’ve seen Odessa visited him a couple times. It was on her finsta. Didn’t you see it?” Madelyn had a worried expression on her face.

“Wait what? I absolutely did not see that. I’ve been asking him but don’t want to seem too clingy.. Why would he ask her to come there when i’ve been specifically asking?” You asked, immediately entering instagram to search her page. “Aha.. i’m blocked?” You said showing Maddie your phone.

“Listen Drew told me not to say anything because he told me it was a thing of the past but… They used to hook up.. Like pretty often.” Madelyn was now on instagram on her phone looking it up to show you. “Oh look she just posted this 12 minutes ago on her story.” She turned the phone to show a picture of dinner plates at a fancy restaurant and you could see Drew’s perfectly big hands with his rings on. The location was tagged too, the precise location he was filming at.

You decided to text him to see how it goes…

“Okay so he’s lying to me.. But i don’t even understand why?” You showed Madelyn the phone.

She scrunched her eyebrows this time in an angry way. “I don’t understand either? He practically begged me to introduce him to you. He always talked about being a huge fan of your work and that I was so lucky to know you. I don’t know why he’s acting like this. I’m sorry Y/n, I should have known better.”

“No Maddie please don’t apologize!! We aren’t even a thing so pretty much he has every right to be hanging out with her or whoever, ya know? I just don’t get the point of lying to me and her blocking me.”

“I know exactly why she did it… She feels threatened. Anytime he meets a new friend, ESPECIALLY if it’s a girl she goes crazy! Like she’s very territorial of him. I don’t know how he doesn’t notice it.”

“Yeah that’s strange.. I definitely do not want to deal with that.”

_________

A few days pass and you still never received a call or even a text from Drew. You were on your way heading to the set of the latest film you were working on for Netflix. You were scrolling on twitter when you were interrupted by Drew’s name popping up on your screen. You instantly declined the call sending it straight to voicemail. Now that he wasn’t occupied by Odessa he has the time for you and you weren’t about that. You were both in the phase of still getting to know each other but with all of this happening and him straight up lying to you about something, not even serious, you realize you don’t want to get past this phase. You don’t want to know/involve yourself with someone like that. He sent you a text which you happily ignored (you loved that you had your read notification on), getting out of the car and heading on set.

Finishing up for the day you had another text from Drew.

This went on for days.. You had no interest replying anytime soon.

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XXX. “gut feeling”

parts: previous / next

plot: in an untoward evening, Bruce gets protective.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, violence, drugging, aggression, description of injury, angst, nausea/vomit, basically Gotham being Gotham

words: 6.7k

a/n: oooowieeee Bruce is really starting to show his more flustered side 🤭

PHOTOS: EMT Says Bruce Wayne “Lucky to be Alive" After Harrowing Crash on Tower Grounds

You'd been walking the sidewalk just before Rai's when you got the news alert. Even with his warning, one that left you for a few seconds when first staring at the phone, it was like being pummeled by a brick. Tethered to your screen, flipping through the photos TMZ posted like they were scripture. After a few heavy exhales, you gathered yourself enough to walk inside. The familiar 'Welcome in!' before a double-take. "Y/N? What are you doing here? You said you left?"

In all honesty you'd forgotten about your last conversation, the last moments before tragedy, and hadn't prepared for what you'd say to people outside of what you were to tell Mar. You did your best to laugh it off, but he wasn't taking it. He walked around the register and stood in front of you, right by the Oreos. "Always been able to read you, friend. Tell me, what's on your mind?"

Ding! The door opened to a cluster of women and Rai gave you a playful finger wag. "Foiled this time."

You joined half of the pack as they perused the drink aisle, then the other that clustered by the deli. He was almost out of tabbouleh, and the second best thing in your opinion—baklava—was being thirsted after by the two people in front. You decided to get some pita and hummus to go.

Rai didn't have time to talk to you with the line of people behind you, and for a brief moment you thought about staying—but your bed was calling your name, so you kept it simple. "I decided to stay for a few more weeks, at the very least. I'll be back soon for more tabbouleh." You winked at him, smiled, and found yourself right back where you had rotted the past 36 hours.

Rai sent you a text about fifteen minutes later. Heard you're a big journalist now girl! How does it feel to be published?

The message stopped you in your tracks; it was the first time someone had mentioned the interview without also mentioning Bruce Wayne. It brought tears to your eyes. He was the first person truly interested in your experience with it, about how it was just a project, not the person, that was the cool part.

I'm staying a bit longer for the election. Especially with how much traction my interview got, I think I carved out some legitimacy for myself to maybe make a difference reporting on the mayoral campaign.

He must've gotten swamped because your next text from him wasn't until an hour later. Whatever keeps you near Gotham and tabbouleh makes me happy. Bouleh on me next visit.

It was a running joke how often you ordered it; it was almost a hyperfixation, the flavor of it orienting you to time and place whenever things got harried. You learned a few months after being here that you needed some routine and, well. That was yours. The glow of your iPad screen was also an ever-present friend:

SEARCH: Marian Grange

Google showed that Grange was the former district attorney, a big-time lawyer taking on some very high profile cases in her time. A handful of years ago she had made her way to Gotham—notably, with just enough years of residency to run for Mayor this calendar year. Since coming to the city, she hadn't taken on any more cases, submitting wholly to the pursuit of... socializing? She was often pictured with the elite, holding hands with a beaming smile, endlessly pictured throughout her public-facing Instagram going to various fundraisers and luncheons. Per her campaign website, she wanted to stop the 'targeting' of the city's rich. Out of the many filler words on her 'issues' page, that was the only information you could glean.

SEARCH: Sebastian Hady

Hady's 'issues' page was a bit more complex: in addition to his position of taxing the churches, he wanted to put out an immediate hit on the batman. He'd attempted to run for mayor in the past two elections, falling short of winning enough votes to make the final matchup, and it was clear why: his politics were inconsistent. Tax the churches, but don't tax the wealthy; increase taxes on the poor, so they could 'bootstrap' their way out of their 'unfortunate predicament'. As out of touch as Grange was, Hady made your stomach flip. He'd been a political science major, with no real experience due to being denied access to Gotham University's Public Administration graduate program. Outside of running incessant campaign ads on late-night television and blaring his oversaturated frame across the city streets, he'd mostly laid low.

SEARCH: Lincoln March

BRRT BRRT. BRRT BRRT. "Mar?"

"Have you seen the news? I didn't have any reception in the lounge."

Every time she went to the Iceberg Lounge you wanted to hold her by her collar and give her a desperate talking-to. You gripped the phone tighter. "It's dangerous, you know the type of shady shit that's gone down there the past few years?"

"So you haven't seen it." She slurped away on a drink. “Sour as hell.”

Ding! You pulled your phone away from your ear to see the TMZ article. Your gut cinched.

"It's all anyone's talking about. People are getting into massive arguments on Scypher about it, it's fucking crazy."

"Arguments?" You bit the inside of your cheek.

She scoffed on the other line. "You're joking, right? Some people are saying he was DOA and had to be revived!"

A lurching clump of bile hurtled into your mouth, forcing you to double over and squeeze your mouth shut. Everything about that sentence haunted you, from the almost incredulous way she delivered it to Gotham's colloquial use of shorthand when describing being killed. He might've been fucking dead? Fuck, fuck...

"Hello? Y/N? Hello?" She groaned. "You're acting weird. Haven't even told me why you're still in the city."

"Don't you think it's a heavy fucking thing to talk about like that? You can't throw around someone being, someone being fucking, dead!" You were more shrill than you meant to be, but you didn't exactly have the resources to control your tone while you clutched your stomach and held your breath, not wanting to taste the vomit you'd just swallowed.

"Shiiit, I thought you didn't like him." If she turns this into a conversation about dating...

"I already saw it earlier."

"Think it'll interfere with your interview?" The sound of background whistling and whooping created an unsettling soundscape.

"I really don't care if it does."

"Pretty rude of the guy, in my opinion. Stealing your thunder like that?"

She's drunk. She doesn't know any better. Hell, might even be wasted. Still, your hand shook with anger to the point you had to set the phone on your comforter and scoot back from it. You pressed your palms flat against your mouth to keep from screaming. Screaming what, you didn't know. You were beginning to understand what it was like for Bruce to talk to you as you struggled to speak through gritted teeth. "That's really disrespectful, Mar."

"I'm jooookingg!" She cackled and you heard a clatter. "Oh shit hahaha, my phone. Hello? Still there?"

Don't want to be. "Yeah. Do you need me to call you an Uber?"

"Nahh, this guy's taking me home."

"What about Gianna?" She always hung around Gianna; you'd only met her once when Mar got picked up, and only for about five seconds, but after a brief look over her socials (and an impressive LinkedIn) you were inclined to think she was a good influence. Gianna had to be with her.

"I haven't asked her to be exclusive yet, you know that." Her words were beginning to slur.

"Who's the guy?"

"Some dude I met at the bar, he's super fuckin' rad."

"I'm sending an Uber to your location. Come up to my apartment, we'll spend the night together." Did she always leave with someone when she didn't go out with you? You pictured her being preyed upon, studied in the pulsing lights of the club. It made you sick.

"Okay bossy. No." She giggled to herself. "His apartment is like half a mile north, he's walking me." She hung up. Jesus. You threw on your sneakers, grabbed a taser, and raced outside, scanning your apartment fob to access the free-use bike garage. Iceberg Lounge was about a fifteen minute walk south.

It was terrifying biking on the streets of Gotham. Half the street lamps didn't work, and the drivers were all fiendish assholes who drove like they wanted to smear bodies on the pavement. You'd almost thought yourself lost until you spotted a glint of her neon pink cami.

"Hey!" You tried not to sound too menacing; maybe this was a rare good guy in Gotham, and he was gonna tuck her in safely to his spare bed and make sure she had a nice, non-laced drink of water at her bedside. No fucking way. "Hey,"

"Y/N?" Mar looked shocked at your arrival.

You dismounted your bike and grabbed her hand. When you did, the man grabbed your forearm. You ignored him and spoke directly to her. “Let’s head back to my place.”

”Interrupting our date.” The man laughed, but it was indignant. He still wasn’t loosening his grip on your arm. Getting a closer look at Mar, she was disheveled; her straps were sliding off her arm, exposing the top of her bra; her belt was halfway undone, yet her lipstick was pristine.

“We have a rule to not go home with people when we’re drunk.” You flashed him a smile, his green eyes dark and menacing. Why do I always notice the eyes?

“Sounds like BS to me.” He tried to laugh again when he said it, which only pissed you off. He probably thought he was one of the ‘good guys’ and didn’t understand why no one ever called him for a second date. You snaked your left arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to you. A quick once-over noted him wearing a thick leather jacket with white cuffs, and dark blue jeans with rips in the knees. His shoes were a nondescript pair of white Nikes. “You seem perfectly sober, interesting.” Mar was unsteady in your grasp, her weight leaning slightly too much into you, her knees wobbly. Did he fucking slip her something?

You swatted away his hand, which had a butterfly effect; he swiftly grabbed your ponytail, yanking on it so you were removed from between them. He grabbed her by the elbow as you stuttered back, tears springing into your eyes from the tension of having your hair yanked. He couldn’t quite walk as fast as he wanted to, her legs catching on every crack in the sidewalk. In this city that meant a long, treacherous walk anywhere, and an opportunity for you to strike.

You pulled out your taser and ran closer to him before slamming your finger on the trigger. A small catch of electricity came from the tip, then faltered. It’s not charged. Fuck. He turned toward the nearest apartment complex, and you lunged for his neck. He was tall, but not too tall, and there were a few steps he’d climbed to the doorway. You were able to wrap your palm around half of his neck, pulling him down hard on the concrete. Before he’d even smacked the ground you jumped down the stairs and slammed your foot into his balls, as hard as you could, your left foot skipping atop the concrete with the force as it struggled to balance. He cursed, spit flying out of his mouth as he clutched his groin. Mar was barely holding onto the siderails at this point, confirming she’d been slipped something. His legs thrashed wildly, his grunts filling the empty sidewalk. He caught your ankle and you fell back, smacking your head against the bottom stair. For a few seconds all you could do was breathe, the air knocked out of you and your vision blurry, stilted. He rose to his knees, and you scrambled back. By the grace of whatever God may or may not exist, you were able to get back on your feet before he did. The transition made you wildly dizzy, and before you knew it you fell to your knees again.

Mar was barfing off the edge of the railing, crying. You figured she had no idea what was going on, just knew that it was bad; the first and only time you’d been roofied was out with Mar one night. You’d tasted your drink and within a few minutes you were feeling woozy. Make it ten minutes later, and the room was a glowing haze of smoke and mirror—literally. You were seeing double everywhere you looked, locked in your own cage of whatever someone else did to you. Thankfully Mar had enough experience to notice the initial signs of being drugged (at least, in someone else) and had immediately called an Uber and notified the staff of the bar. She’d tended to you the rest of that night, and when you woke up her eyes were buggy and bloodshot. “I stayed up all night watching you. I didn’t want you to like, choke in your sleep or something.”

You attempted to raise your head, but it was pounding, whiting out your vision when you tried to support it with just your neck. You grabbed your phone and managed to open it to your phone app, but he smacked it away. You watched through bleary eyes as it soared into a bit of bark dust beneath some shrubs, landing face-down. All you saw was a gentle emanation of dark blue light. It called someone.

“HELP!” You shouted, hoping that whoever it was would hear you. Most of your contacts (you didn’t have too many) had access to your location information. You’d gotten scared after a few harrowing abduction stories in the Gazette and sent a mass text to the people in it with your info. Someone would call, and it would be fine. “CALL 911.”

Mar slumped to the ground and balanced her head against the railing, tears streaming down her cheeks. This part of town was deceptively barren, of course it was. The man grabbed you by the ankles and you screamed, jerking your legs until one broke free. “HELP!”

A part of you thought it would be okay—until you remembered Batman wasn’t on patrol tonight. Your heart sank as you watched him latch both hands onto your other ankle… and then he dropped you. He turned and walked halfway between the road and the apartment doors—why wasn’t anyone coming out to help?—and faced you, his mouth slobbery and in a slack grin. He shook out his body and flexed his fingers, taking a moment to hype himself up. You tried to sit up again, grinding your molars with the effort, but you nearly blacked out. The only thing that came to mind were the earthquake drills from elementary school, of hiding under your desk with your hands over your head to protect from falling debris. He was falling debris. Inevitable. You wrapped your hands around your aching head. Pressed your elbows together in front of your nose. Tucked your chin, barely, to protect your neck. He took off in a sprint for you, his sneakers connecting brutally with your thigh. You screamed, and he kicked it again. And again. And again. “See how you like it, fucking bitch.”

Mar screamed behind you; weak, but undeniable. “Stop it,” She stumbled toward you as his foot barreled into you with unbridled ferocity. She grabbed onto his arm and he shoved her off. She reached back out, her nails digging into his skin. He shouted and shoved her hard against the railing, turning his attention on her. She had enough bearings now to dodge a single hit, rolling out of the way before another landed square between her shoulders. You were busy incrementally lifting your head from the cement, centimeter by slow centimeter sitting upright. The man wiped the arm of his jacket against his mouth, muttering. “Bullshit fucking cunts.” He slammed his foot between her legs, and she yelped, rolling over onto her stomach. A wave of nausea stormed through you.

She was slowly rising, but he slammed his fists into her back and she buckled. Her face hit the pavement so hard you hoped her nose wasn’t broken. She started coughing, stringy spit dribbling off her lips. At this point he turned back to you with a sneer. “Guess I’m getting double tonight.”

Sick freak. The pain was edging out your fear, and resignation was teetering towards fruition. You only needed a few more minutes to get your bearings. Long enough to heat up a fucking hot pocket. He slapped you across the face, and you fell back to exactly where you were. Flat against the ground. Thundering head. Unable to sit up, arrested by searing pain.

The sound of skin slamming into skin disoriented you. Thudding, smacking sounds pierced the air, peppered with the man’s grunts and yelps. He sounded like a hit dog. What, the fuck? You shoved your palms against the ground to support your weight, but it wasn’t working. You physically grabbed your jaw and the back of your head and tilted it up, holding it there to watch the scene unfolding a few feet in front of you. A horrible hollow sound echoed just as the man was hurled against the opposite railing, his chest nearly touching his shin as his body bent around the metal. His opponent was adept at fighting; fully hooded with a black shirt wrapped around the bottom half of his face, a thick, baggy jacket bulking his frame, gauze wrapped around his knuckles. You couldn’t make out his full face, but the feeling you got told you all you needed. It wasn’t quite fear, not quite comfort, or peace, but an indisputable sensation of safety. You let your head fall back, too fast, as you sobbed cries of relief.

The mystery man kept trying to fight back, but not a single hit landed. You saw it all in the lower half of your vision. Saw the guy try, fight, and run, and the other stoop down to Mar and help her sit up. Once she was in a safe, neutral position he turned to you—Bruce’s eyes were framed with black, paint smearing down his cheekbones and into his brows. He took your arm and attempted to pull you up to the same position, but you squealed. “I hit my head,”

He sat back like he was calculating something for a moment before cupping his left hand at the base of your head. Holding you like an infant, he slowly tilted you upright. He held his hand just above your neck a few seconds longer. “Gonna let go.” Tentatively, he did, and you resisted your torso’s urge to flop back down.

A car pulled up right then, one you hadn’t seen before. It was flashy, but not a sportscar. He noticed your eyes follow it and lowered his voice. “It’s mine. I’ll take you both home.” He paused, gesturing with his head. “Do you know her?”

You tried to nod but you felt like your head would snap off your neck. “Yeah. My friend. I think, she was drugged.” The pulsing in your thigh was violent, and you worried you might have fractured something. He gave you a once-over, then looked back to her. “I’ll help her in first.”

Bruce tried to help her stand, but she shook her head. “Y/N,” she called out weakly, moving to her hands and knees to crawl toward you. She managed to make her way to your side, panting with the effort. “Who is, why,”

Shit. “Um, he’s my friend. I called him when, when the guy, shit,” Your head was in agony. You struggled to form coherent thoughts, let alone speech. How, clear is she? Recognize? Him? Disguise?

“I trust you.” Her voice no stronger than a whisper. She reached her arms out to him, and he walked over to help her up. He wrapped his arm around her back and to her armpit, hoisting her up and steadying her to the car. The side door opened as he walked up, and he helped her sidle in. He waited a few seconds while she adjusted, then grabbed the seatbelt. You heard him say something, but couldn’t… only if you want maybe? About the seatbelt?

You blinked and he was holding out his hands for you. The scarred, dirty hands that now had traces of fresh blood from reopened knuckle scabs soaking through the gauze. It made you faint thinking about him at the… Arkham. All at once you sat up, the motion sending you reeling. “Fuck!” Your hands trembled as pain ravaged your head, all the blood simultaneously leaving and filling it. “No, you shouldn’t, fuck,”

He squatted to your eye-level. His stare didn’t waver once. “You’re, recovering, I don’t, thanks,” Between every word was a gasp of pain.

His tone was firm, leaving no room for disagreement. “I’m glad you called. I’m taking you home.”

“Are you—”

“I’m fine.” He held out an expectant hand for you to take. You anticipated having to pull your own, but to your surprise he pulled you up with you barely feeling the ground whatsoever. He carried the bulk of your weight, snaking his arm on top of your shoulders instead of under, allowing your neck not to bobble as you both walked. The last time you’d been this close to him you hadn’t known his identity. You recalled his hold being so firm you couldn’t escape, how afraid that had made you until you’d realized it was him. You stopped trying to force your balance and let him guide you the last steps to the car; the door opened automatically again, and he helped you slip in beside Mar. She had her head against the back of the seat, eyes half shut.

“Need help?” He had a finger looped around the seatbelt. Your cheeks heated, and you stammered out a no. He shut the door, and you painstakingly buckled yourself. A part of you wondered what he’d do if you refused to buckle up, and how long he would sit there demanding you put it on before you finally gave in, having sufficiently annoyed him.

When Bruce climbed in, you felt like a child who forgot their lunch on the way to school. You asked him to retrieve your phone, explaining it was under some shrubs by the entryway. Not ten seconds later he was back in, wiping dirt off the screen before handing it back to you. He was so fucking fast.

Mar didn’t talk during the drive, and neither did Bruce, so neither did you. You kept one eye on her at all times, making sure she didn’t fall asleep before you could check if she had a concussion or not. You figured you did, and you were not looking forward to checking in the mirror later looking at the damage done to your left leg. Now I match Bruce. A bitter thought.

You’d had the wherewithal prior to leaving to bring your keychain with you, tucked nicely into your pocket. By some stretch he hadn’t kicked just a few inches higher, which would have probably left you with a gaping wound from the jagged ends of the keys fileting your hip. You held the fob out the window when he pulled up to the garage, and in another blink he was helping Mar out.

“Can you stand?” Mar was slumped into his shoulder as he supported her weight. “Might have to carry her.” She looked exhausted, with her eyes glazed over, her face sweaty. You watched her chest with diligence, and per usual he sensed you, reading you like he was superhuman. “Her respiration’s normal. You can check the rest of her when you get your bearings.”

You unbuckled and tried to stand, but even shifting halfway out the car scared you. The ground phased in and out of your vision, the depth completely lost. As much as it burned… You sighed. “Take her up first. I think I need help walking.”

You handed him your keychain and he went on his way. Only after he’d disappeared up the elevator did you question it. I let her go up alone with a man? In this state? You couldn’t berate yourself much though, because a strong swell of defensiveness ravaged you. It was like the you before and you now were dueling. Condemning your judgment and rationalizing it, back and forth.

There was truly just something about him. Maybe you were infantilizing him and the past week was clouding your judgment. Maybe he moonlighted as Batman to cover up his serial killer tendencies. Keep the cops trained on an alternate identity, a vigilante. But he made you feel safe. He always made you feel held. Even when your mind took over and convinced you he was wrong, convinced you you should be afraid, your body never internalized it. That gut feeling you got around other men; the other men at city hall, the other men at the club, some of the men in your undergrad classes, even some of the professors… your stomach never curdled like that around him.

You didn’t think about it any further.

Bruce jogged out the elevator and helped you out. You ignored how your stomach fluttered being pressed so close to him, fought the tears that begged at the edge of your eyes, and let yourself sink into his chest. At some point you closed your eyes and concentrated on the roughness of his jacket against your cheek, and the patter of his heartbeat. Warmth. Alive. Breathing. Secure.

You being so close to him made him keen to his breathing. His body felt tingly and dizzy. He held you tighter. Every exhale fluttered the hair in front of your face, wisping it across your eyelashes. Was his breathing too loud? Were you falling asleep? He rustled you slightly, just taking a step slightly too hard, not wanting you to—your lashes fluttered, having caught you right before slipping into dreamland. He needed to keep you awake, at least long enough to do a proper assessment. Long enough to make sure you weren’t going to die.

Walking through your doorframe was a beast he realized too late; too narrow to both walk through wide, after your left hip caught on the strike plate and you cried out. He hated how much it felt like someone squeezed his chest when he saw you in pain; if you or your friend had been any less injured, he would’ve taken more time on the perpetrator.

He sat you delicately on the couch, instructing you to sit upright as much as you were able. He unwrapped the cloth from over his mouth, shoving it into his jacket pocket. He asked if he could touch the back of your head, and you agreed. His fingers were as gentle as a cat’s whisker, delicately sifting through sweaty clumps of hair that, if it weren’t for even the air moving past it causing flinching pain, might’ve made you soft, weak. You startled when he removed his hand. “Can’t feel any bleeding, no cuts.” His voice was soft, his eyes scanning everywhere but yours. You were glad.

He asked the date, gave you a few words to recall back, and shined a light in your eyes. You recoiled like he’d slapped you when he pulled out his flashlight, the light causing physical pain. On the jump back, your leg brushed the pillow to your left, and he stared down at it. “May I?” You nodded and he pulled up your shorts; you were biting down on your tongue as his pinky grazed the bruise. “How bad is it?” It was at this point, when he didn’t immediately respond, that you realized he’d turned off the lights in your apartment and only left the lamp on in the corner. Thoughtful.

“Already bruising.” He grimaced, seeing the speckled outline of the shoe’s leather binding indented in harsh red streaks along your leg. His grimace made your face fall; he hardly grimaced like that when he had a fucking gaping wound in his leg. “What? Tell me.”

He shook his head. “A bad bruise, that’s all.” He grabbed your shin lightly and asked you to bend your leg. Then put weight on it. Twist left to right. Flex your hip. Everything worked normally. Still, his brow was twisted together, looking like he was gnawing on his cheek. You eyed him skeptically. “What?”

This was the second time he’d pulled someone off of you in less than six months. Your entire thigh would be lit dark scarlet in just a few days. He’d called Gordon the second he got into his car, and whispered an ID to his watch to ping over when he went to get your phone. He was sure they got him, but all he could think about was brutality; he didn’t like the things he was imagining, the drive to crack all the fingers off the man’s hand and shove them into his petrified, quivering mouth, and the equal drive to wrap you in a hug that never ended to make sure no one else harmed you.

You saw the movement of all these thoughts across his face, but the only source you could track them to was hesitation to tell you the extent of your injury. “Do I need to go to the hospital?”

He wanted to scour every inch of you to look for more lacerations, bruises, bleeds. For possibly the first time ever, he didn’t trust his estimation. You needed a professional, just in case. In case he missed something. In case you’d jostled your brain too much, in case the man had loosened a clot in your leg. He nodded. “I think you should.” He could take a back way there, walk you up to the doors and then put you in a wheelchair at the entrance. His mask would cover up enough, probably. He’d bring your friend with you. She could be checked out too.

You looked to his bloodless palms and fingertips that had just explored your scalp. Down to the splotches across your leg. “Why?” You felt like shit, yeah, but…?

“I might be wrong.”

”About what?”

”The extent of it.”

”What, like a brain bleed?”

”Exactly like that.”

You flicked your gaze up to your bedroom door. “I can’t leave her. Is she okay?” You moved to get up, and it was painful, but you managed. You slammed your hand on his shoulder for emergency balance, and you begrudgingly accepted his support across the living area. Mar was on her side in bed, squinting at her phone that seemed to already be on the lowest brightness. You whispered. “I got it.”

He let you go and walked back to the living room, and you shut the door behind you. You limped over to her and sat on the edge, tapping her ankle to alert her. Slowly her eyes moved to yours. The lipstick that had been untouched was now smeared across her cheeks, and her eyeliner bled and cracked off. “Are you, okay?”

”I think so. Are you?” You were doing exactly what Bruce just had; scanning her body at rapid speed, analyzing for any signs of injury. She looked a bit scraped up on the heels of her hands and knees, and you asked her to turn to take a look at her back. There was still the rough, muddied outline of his shoe from where it connected on her spine, but nothing else of note. Some general redness, and when you touched it she groaned, but didn’t shriek.

You looked into her eyes, but knew you had no idea what to look for. “Did he check you out already?”

She nodded, leisurely. “Shined something in my eye and told me to say stuff, I don’t remember what though.” Her words were still slurred, and the top of her nose was scraped, but nothing looked broken. You thought of the kick he’d done between her legs, and asked if she felt any pain there. She almost giggled. “Bastard forgot I don’t have balls. But, how,” She winced as she adjusted, her back rippling with it. “Cool is it he thought, I did.” She sighed and returned her attention back to her phone.

“Do you have pain anywhere?”

She glanced down at her palms and then pointed to her nose. Her biggest thing then was being drugged, and yours was whatever head thing you had going on paired with a throbbing leg. The thought of leaving your warm bed to go to a bright–fuck, BRIGHT–hospital made you want to actually die. You were gonna take your chances tonight. Oh, it was making you sick thinking about it…

“I’m gonna get some meds. Want some?” Whew, just a few steps through to the kitchen. I can do it! I’ve done it a lot! At least half of the journey is carpet, if I do eat shit. She nodded again (you were very jealous she was able to bob her head), and began your slow shuffle to the kitchen. The second you appeared in the doorway, Bruce jumped to your aid. You waved him off. “I think I’ll stay home.” You grabbed the counter for support.

“I’m taking you in.”

Furrowing your brow hurt your aching head. “I’m gonna take some meds, it’ll, be fine.”

“Then I’m staying.”

He sounded like a scolding parent. You shot a look at him and felt the ground wiggle beneath you. You squeezed your eyes shut which only made it worse. Tried to refocus on the medicine cabinet. So high…

“Let’s go.” He made his voice a bit louder, sterner. You finally scooted close enough to reach the handle, and now worked up the courage to grab it. You rustled around in there for a moment.

“You’re not really going to take that, are you?” His tone was biting. Footsteps, then he snatched the bottle of ibuprofen out of your hand. “Do you want to have a brain bleed?”

Shame coursed through you, another one of his thousand cuts. When you were able to look back at him, he had his eyes shut tight and his lips pursed, one hand holding the bottle and the other gripping the counter. He saw you looking at him and hastily turned away. The pop of the plastic bottle on the marble punctuated his apology. “Sorry.” He ran his fingers through his hair, his hood removed somewhere between your bedroom and the couch. He huffed and tilted his head back to stare at the dark kitchen light. His shoulders rose and fell with every cycle of breath, one for every three blinks. The room was silent like that for a minute. He was so angry… no, he was nervous. Upset.

He caught your eye when you turned and his face fell into something softer, more vulnerable. “You’re not going, right?” He gave the smallest shake of his head and flicked the bottle a few inches. He didn’t wait for your answer. “I’m staying.” He made his voice strong, though you both knew you could kick him out and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Bruce,”

“You’re both incapacitated, leaving you here alone, it’s, it’s not an option.” He was getting flustered. You always took him there. He didn’t stutter, he never caught on his words, never caught on the sidewalk, never overlooked a pedestrian, fuck. His voice was raising, only slightly. His breathing got shallower, his fingers feeling chilled. “I need a minute.” He put his hands over his head and walked to the other side of the room, pacing in front of the couch. The fact the silence felt thick made you want to cut it. “I’ll be fine,”

“Please!” He dropped his hands at his sides and stood facing the cushions.

Deep breath in. Hold… exhale. Inhale, hold… exhale. Inhale, hold… exhale. Inhale, hold… exhale. He felt his chest start to release. Inhale, hold… exhale. Hold. Inhale, hold… exhale, hold… the feeling was coming back into his fingertips. Inhale, exhale. Hold… Inhale, slow, hold… exhale, slow, hold. Blink. Blink. Look at the wall. Couch. Hands. Jacket. In, out.

Another big sigh and a small shake, and he looked over his shoulder. He swallowed back globs of saliva that threatened to drown his vocal folds. His cheeks were pink, from what he had no idea. “I’m upset this happened to you.” He figured some transparency wouldn’t hurt, seeing as he’d just watched you get bludgeoned on the sidewalk and the… events of the past weekend. His jaw flexed. “And your friend.” He groaned, feeling frustrated tension fill him again. “I heard your shouting from blocks away. There were plenty of people.” His hands tightened in and out of fists, a motion you never failed to dial into. “No one did a damn thing.”

“Seems about right.” You slowly reached for the ibuprofen and put it back in the cabinet, letting it fall shut with a small tap.

Bruce was facing you now. “You don’t seem fazed.”

You shrugged, but couldn’t raise your shoulders in any meaningful capacity. “People don’t give a shit here.” You winced, as another blow of pain emanated the circumference of your skull. “Of course you don’t,” You flinched, speaking causing coils of pain to vibrate in your head. “Get it.”

He held back the full extent of his response, because he had a full argument sitting on the tip of his tongue. “I’ve seen the worst of it as him. I get it.” His enunciation begged no comment, but it was steamrolled.

“You don’t.” It was going to hurt to push all the words out at once, but the adrenaline of more friction with him was enough fuel to edge it out, momentarily. “You’re only able to be him because of your very unique, situation.” It was suffering to continue talking. “Even if people wanted to, to be you.” You took a small breather, placing both hands on the edge of the counter as the world whizzed by. “We can’t. We have, work, school, people are, shit.”

“We can talk about it later.” He walked to the cupboard and drew some water from the sink. You noticed him rinse it twice before filling. He held it out to you. “Drink. Sips.”

Some muscle in your finger had to have direct access to your brain because when you extended your arm fully to grab it, as soon as your pinky gripped the glass, you shuddered like you’d flicked a nerve. The glass clattered to the ground, exploding shards across the floor. When you ventured to move, he stopped you with a firm hand on your shoulder. “I’ll get it.” He didn’t want you tripping with how unsteady your gait was. He moved to your side and grabbed some paper towels, squatting once more to gather the biggest chunks. “There’s a, broom. In the closet by the door.”

“Y/N?” Mar had made her way out of your room in a drunken shuffle. She’d said your name but her squinted, hazy gaze was focused entirely on Bruce, who was now facing her without his hood, without his mask, almost entirely exposed save the black around his eyes. Her eyes widened. “Is that…”

In your periphery you noticed Bruce’s eyes flick up to yours as his hands slowed. For once he was silent, letting you take the lead–naturally, it was the first time ever you didn’t want to. Fuck.

[cappulcino]

Seven Days Til Fall (Part 2)

Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3 – Part 4 – Part 5 – Part 6 – Part 7

Read on AO3 (you do need to be logged in, though)

Words: 3,533

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader

Summary: You're an angel sent on a divine mission to retrieve a powerful relic that has been stolen from Heaven. The orders are clear: gain an audience with the Devil, make deals with them if necessary, anything to return that object to the Silver City. But Hell is not quite what you expected, and neither is Lucifer.

Trigger warnings: Non-graphic mention of suicide (the Woods of Suicides)

On the second day, you approached the gates of Hell with powerful strides, determined to get this mission over with as quickly as possible. When that poor soul gave you the mallet to call for Squatterbloat, you winced again but took it with more assurance than the day before.

"Cease your theatrics, demon," you urged him. "As much as this displeases me, I might need to come back more than once. I have no wish to listen to your vile rhyming every time. Let me through."

You didn't have to wait long before the demon's guttural voice resonated through your bones.

"There's one at the door. At the gate of damnation."

He stopped in his doggerel when he saw you through the thick morning fog, just like he had yesterday.

"Oh, it's the holy Dominion. Have you come for an encore?"

Grinning mischievously, Squatterbloat replied, "Feathered pest, draw near… It's my place in the hierarchy that allows me this treat. So mark my words, celestial bore, you'll hear my rhymes each time you pass this door."

Stepping aside, he made a grand, exaggerated gesture to let you in. If Heaven's rules and basic decency didn't matter to you, you would insult him right here and now. Instead, you bit your tongue and started marching forward, only for Squatterbloat to grab you by the arm as you passed in front of him.

"If I were you, I would leave my purity here –it tends to melt in the heat."

You glared at him and yanked your arm free. "To the palace."

"Ahh…" Lucifer sighed contentedly before you even had a chance to greet them.

You had been escorted to some office room. Lucifer had their back turned to you and their eyes fixed on the pages of an ancient volume taken off a bookcase that had directly been carved in the black marble wall.

"We take it the Divine Council has granted Our offer."

"It has."

"Indeed."

"Of course it has."

The Morningstar echoed your words with a calm, almost indifferent acknowledgement as if they had been expecting Heaven to agree to the deal all along. They then closed the book and put it back where it belonged as they spoke again.

"And We suppose you brought a contract with you."

Lucifer elegantly gestured for you to come closer to their desk –which you did immediately– and sat down before picking up their pen, clearly made of bone and embedded with gold chips and rubies.

You couldn't help but cringe a little at the sight of it, wondering what that poor creature –or was it creatures?– had done for the ruler of Hell to turn their body parts into personal stationery, and even more so at the sight of blood that served as ink on the tip of the instrument.

Reaching the desk, you handed Lucifer the contract with reverence, then took a respectful step back. They unrolled the parchment in a swift motion, and there was a certain smugness in their stance that made the muscles of your face contort with disdain no matter how hard you tried to resist it.

Lucifer's eyes skimmed the page and then suddenly their rictus disappeared. You knew why, you had taken a peek at the contract yourself. Since Lucifer had not specified any length of time in their request to visit the Silver City, the Council had ensured that said visit be as short as possible.

"What is this?" Lucifer asked. Their eyes burned with fury but their overall expression remained rather relaxed. "This is not what We asked for."

"How do You mean?" You replied, your tone full of fake innocence.

Lucifer didn't need to stand up to dominate you –they simply leaned forward on their desk, and you realised you had gone too far and bowed your head in contrition. That was not how a respectable angel should behave. Squatterbloat had been right, purity did have a tendency to quickly vanish in Hell.

"Do not mock Us, little angel," the monarch snarled before quoting the contract. "'The Visitation shall be limited to a period not exceeding one hour of celestial time.'" And then further down, "'Any breach of conduct, as determined by the Archangels present, shall result in immediate termination of the Visitation, and Lucifer Morningstar shall be expelled from the Silver City without delay or further discourse.' How does that compensate for the efforts We will make to aid you in your quest?"

"The decision was not mine, Lightbringer. You are free to complain to Your brother, but I'm afraid this is all You will get."

A smirk returned to Lucifer's lips as they leaned back in their chair, delicately lowering their hands on the armrests, and crossed their legs. You noticed in your peripheral vision that the movement made their svelte, pale leg show through a slit in their silken robes, and, for an inexplicable reason, your breath hitched a little.

"We could still decide not to sign this contract, you know," Lucifer finally spoke after a brief silence. "And if We don't, Heaven will never recover the Cup of Eternal Grace, and you…" They were exulting now. "Will have failed in your mission."

"And You will never set foot in the Silver City ever again." The words were audacious, but this time your tone was not insolent at all; this was but a mere remark based on how important Lucifer had made their wish to see Heaven again sound yesterday.

And this constant battle inside you between decorum, sense of heavenly duty, and audacity seemed to appeal to Lucifer because, after gazing at you for a couple of seconds, they inhaled sharply through their nose and let out a clipped, "Fine" before plunging their bony pen in the blood well to their right to sign the contract.

They then proceeded to append Hell's seal on the parchment, after which they stood up, rounded their desk, and walked over to you. Your eyes never left them.

"Thank You, Your Majesty," you muttered as Lucifer handed you the scroll.

Your politeness was met with a dismissive hand gesture, and Lucifer headed out of the room without a word.

"Well?" you said, promptly catching up with the Morningstar with a few, quick strides but mindful of staying two steps behind as etiquette required.

"Well, what?"

"Are You not going to give me the Cup?"

"Dear… If only it were that easy. The Cup is not in Our possession."

"No idea," Lucifer admitted in their annoyingly sweet voice.

That would have been too easy indeed.

"Then would You tell me which demon has it? Surely You must know."

"Yes, We did. And We will, a deal is a deal. But We never pretended to know where the Cup was, did We? Now come. You shall introduce yourself to Our subjects and inform them of your little investigation."

That revelation made you freeze for a second.

"What?" you huffed. "You swore to help."

You found Lucifer's nonchalance about the whole situation deeply infuriating, but at least it seemed they hadn't lied about wanting to cooperate. So you complied and followed them, and soon found yourself back in their throne room, standing on the outlook that overhung the royal courtyard.

Lucifer summoned their demons and the courtyard suddenly filled with millions of repugnant, howling monsters. You could feel their eyes judging you and, despite the torches and fire pit burning in the room behind you, you shivered.

You had never done that, addressing so many people at once. Your position as a Dominion only allowed you to lead meetings of a handful of angels, all inferior in rank. Delivering speeches to Fallen Ones certainly wasn't on the top lines of your curriculum vitae.

But the demons were waiting so you lifted your chin, straightened your wings, and took a confident step forward.

"Peace be–"

The demons listened –or did they? You couldn't tell from up here–, their expressions ranging from boredom to mild curiosity, but they remained silent for the most part, seemingly unimpressed.

False start. You couldn't possibly wish peace upon those former angels if you wanted to be taken seriously. You cleared your throat and started over.

"Greetings, denizens of Hell. I come before you as an envoy of the Silver City, a representative of the Almighty, in the spirit of divine order. The Cup of Eternal Grace has been stolen from Heaven."

You paused, expecting your words to carry weight, but the demons began to snicker instead, which quickly escalated into full-blown laughter. You decided to throw another look at Lucifer, silently asking them to do something, but the Devil remained impassive.

You briefly glanced at Lucifer who raised an expectant eyebrow, waiting to see how you would fare, so you turned back to the assembly below and resumed talking.

"One of you here has it. It is imperative that it be returned to its rightful place, and I expect your full cooperation in the matter."

"I, uh… Assist me in this task, and you shall find favour in the eyes of… God…" Your voice trailed as the laughter grew. "Refuse, and you risk His… wrath…"

You gave up. By now the evidence was hitting you like a brick, Lucifer had done this on purpose. They had felt mocked earlier and now were mocking you, humiliating you, by letting you publicly make a fool of yourself. The message was clear, you were only here because the Lightbringer allowed you to be, and the smooth running of your mission depended only on their goodwill. With that lesson learnt, you lowered your gaze in defeat.

When Lucifer saw that you had finally understood who was in charge here, they raised their hand, and Hell fell silent. The demons listened intently as their ruler ordered them to do as you had said, motivating them with various threats.

Meanwhile, you turned around to look at Mazikeen, whom you had heard laughing with the others. She was still staring at you with a smug grin, her whole body exuding devilish pride. She hated you, that much was obvious, and you had little doubt she would try to put a spanner in the works.

"There, little angel," Lucifer suddenly said once they were done addressing the crowd. "My demons will not hinder your research. You are free to come and go on their lands and interrogate them as you please. Mazikeen will ensure your safety. Although…" They invaded your personal space and let their eyes slide over your face and then trace your silhouette before moving back up. "We have no intention of letting you out of Our sight for now."

The morning had stretched into a long arduous journey through Hell's landscapes. With the Morningstar as your guide, you had visited ruined fortresses, questioned quite a few demonic entities already, and combed through cursed archives, all to no avail.

You couldn't help but inwardly complain about Lucifer's methods and more specifically their decision to walk to each location rather than fly. This realm was vast, yes, but not much more than Heaven, and your wings were strong. Yet, you were made to stay on the ground, enduring either the scorching heat or the icy cold, and always the oppressive weight of Hell's atmosphere.

You had initially wanted to protest but had chosen to refrain. What had happened this morning back at the palace had made you understand that you had absolutely no power here and that being an envoy of God, the Most Supreme, Lucifer's own Father, made no difference. Quite the contrary, in fact. In Heaven, you were a Dominion, a relatively powerful angel. In Hell, even the Damned seemed to be more welcome than you were.

You had not needed to comment on Lucifer's choice anyway. They had indeed quickly sensed your incomprehension and kindly reminded you that journeys were often as important as the destinations themselves if not more, and part of you begrudgingly had had to admit that they were right.

And so you kept on walking, ash filling your lungs and bones breaking under your feet, always two steps behind the sovereign's superb figure, accepting this means for them to assert control and test your resolve.

The light grew dim as you now ventured into a forest, and the air turned cold and thick with an eerie fog that hung mid-air. You noticed the trees first –gnarled, twisted, pale things with trunks that seemed to writhe in the darkness. But it wasn’t until you heard the faint, mournful cries that you realised how painful crossing these woods would be for you.

You looked up, and that’s when you saw them –the Damned, their bodies fused into the bark, faces contorted in eternal torment, limbs tangled with the branches above.

"We know, Our darlings, We know…" Lucifer suddenly spoke in reply to the whimpers of pain and despair.

Had you heard that right? Were they really trying to… soothe those sinners? You didn't want to believe Satan capable of compassion and yet, their intention seemed genuine.

"Where are we?" you asked.

"The Woods of Suicides."

Immediately, you felt the need to do the sign of the cross –taking one's own life was the greatest sin, after all; so you had been taught. But Lucifer snatched your wrist before you even started.

"Do not," they growled. "Not anywhere in Our realm, especially not here. It would be of great disrespect."

"These mortals are unworthy of my respect," you countered. "They have forsaken the Lord."

"The Lord has forsaken them," Lucifer corrected you, finally letting go of your wrist as if getting rid of a piece of rubbish. Their voice remained as poised as always, though there now was a certain edge to it as they continued. "Do you know why humans kill themselves?"

"No. But they have free will. God gave them a beautiful life of endless possibilities, and they squandered them all."

"God… gave them a life of suffering. A suffering so grand they could not wait for old age to come or for someone to shoot them to put an end to it."

"He does not burden a soul with more than–"

"N-No, Your Majesty," you admitted reluctantly.

Lucifer cut you off. They had the intention to lecture you, and there was no stopping them.

"You sometimes seem to forget your place and to speak with arrogance, acting oh so… holier-than-thou. Yet you wear your wings with uncertainty, and We know that beneath that shining armour of righteousness, there is doubt. Because there is so much you do not know, do not understand, and you hate it. God, my brother, and his kind have been keeping you in the dark, using you as a mere pawn in their Great Plan despite your strength and intelligence, and you secretly loathe them for it. Are We mistaken?" You didn't say anything, so Lucifer insisted. "Are We?"

Lucifer let your answer sit for a moment. You felt ashamed and somewhat stupid, and lowered your gaze to the ground.

"These souls you so easily judge were left in despair by a God who calls Himself all-loving and all-forgiving but remained silent when they needed guidance the most. Look at them." Seeing your lack of reaction, Lucifer urged you again. "Look."

So you looked up. Lucifer stepped back then, and only when they were far enough did you realise that it was not to them that the lamentations of the Damned were directed nor was it them that the dead tried to reach with their scrawny hands –it was you.

"What are they doing? What do they want?"

"Why, what you have, of course. The right to walk the gardens of Heaven, an eternal life free of pain, and their Father's love, His forgiveness."

"Forgiveness is always given to those who ask for it," you whispered, though, at that point, you weren't even convinced by what you preached any more.

"Oh, but they asked," Lucifer assured. "Most of them did, at least. Granted, some of them were driven here by their own guilt after committing crimes they could not handle. Some of them have gone mad, too. You can ask Herr Hitler about it, he is hanging a little further east. But the others… They begged and begged and begged for a sign that never came. We will not allow you to dismiss them so easily."

The silence that followed was heavy, the weight of Lucifer’s words sinking into you. You couldn't believe you were actually thinking this, but the Morningstar was right –again. Where had God been when these poor souls started straying from the path? Why had He not prevented this?

You looked up at the dead canopy once more and, not knowing what else to do, you said to any damned soul that would listen, "I forgive you."

To your surprise –and a bit to Lucifer's own– the pained moaning ceased then, leaving the woods in empty, cold silence.

"Quite honourable," Lucifer said. "But what you are giving them is but a mere respite. It's too late now."

You closed your eyes, swallowing the sadness that this harsh truth raised within you, and already the desperate cries resumed.

"Now come. We still have much to do."

You were now back at the palace. This first day of research was coming to an end, and there was still no sign of the chalice. You felt nothing but frustration and a growing sense of futility, and the conversation you had had earlier with Lucifer was still causing much turmoil inside you.

You nodded absent-mindedly –that artefact was not the main thing on your mind right now.

Lucifer, ever watchful, seemed to sense your nervousness and turned to you.

"Do not lose hope, little angel. The Cup will be found soon."

"Perhaps would you care to join me for supper?" were Lucifer's next words.

"It seems the day has worn on you more than we had both expected, and you have come a long way. We thought you might want to rest before returning to the Silver City. Besides… It would please Us to learn more about you beyond our forced cooperation."

Your head snapped when you heard the shocking proposition.

"I beg Your pardon?"

"I'm not here to befriend You, Lightbringer. And I have to be back before compline."

"Of course you do," Lucifer said, finding your devotion endearing. "And We promise you will."

The smile now forming on their face seemed genuine, but you were still unsure whether you could trust them or not –they were the Devil, after all.

"Are You trying to tempt me?"

Lucifer chuckled softly. "Is it working?"

Evidently, it had worked because you were now sitting at a long, ornate table in the grand dining hall of Lucifer's palace, a masterpiece of dark elegance with intricate carvings that seemed to shift in the flickering light of a hundred torches.

The feast that was now coming to an end had been more sumptuous than you had anticipated, and you knew you would have to confess to giving into gluttony once back in the Silver City. But you would be lying to yourself if you tried to pretend you hadn't enjoyed the food.

You had also enjoyed the conversation, which had drifted to matters of history and philosophy –you, arguing with your celestial point of view, Lucifer with their hellish one.

The Morningstar had also inquired about your time in Heaven, the nature of your duties there, and your thoughts on the Archangels and others of higher rank. Their questions, though polite, had probed deeper than you had expected, and you had tried to answer with caution despite a certain level of candour that had surprised even you.

Lucifer, on the other hand, had spoken of Hell with detached pride and had only hinted at the intricacies of its management, mostly skilfully avoiding the very few questions you had dared to ask.

The silence that was reigning now felt awkward –to you, at least; Lucifer, for their part, seemed to enjoy staring at you and making you feel uncomfortable as they munched on a pomegranate. You felt the need to break it.

"I thank You for this meal, Lucifer Morningstar. However, it is getting late, and I should take my leave."

"Of course. We understand," Lucifer replied with a slow nod and a polite smile before standing up to see you to the door. "But you should know…" they said as you reached it. "We were not trying to tempt you earlier. We merely offered, and you accepted. Even angels have free will, and yours, Our little angel, is asking you to… experience new things."

Was Lucifer insinuating that you were starting to stray from the right path? Your jaw clenched at that possibility.

"It is alright, do not fret," they added when they noticed your expression, their voice mellowing though their smile was turning to a more sly one. "You can always ask for forgiveness."

Feeling something starting to crumble inside you, you curtsied weakly and then made your way out of Lucifer's palace to fly back to Heaven, already dreading your return tomorrow.

And there was evening, and there was morning –the second day.

[hypnos333]

Changing Fate

Eros x Goddess reader

Synopsis: Fate had it easy for you as you were a goddess of fate until you got in the away with another’s fate

You were the daughter of Hera and Zeus, you were the third born after Ares and Hephaestus. Of course your parents adores you especially your mother. Being the goddess of Fate was easy then one, two, and three.

You were as beautiful as Aphrodite but you were no goddess of beauty.

“U-Uhm ___?” Eros called out holding your golden paged journal.

“Oh my Zeus! Thank you so much Eros” You said excitedly holding the book with delicacy. His wings flutter in shyness.

“Of course my cupid” He said back making you blush before hold the journal close to you.

“I should be calling you that Cupid” You flirted back making him blush again. He always haded feelings for you and since you lost your fate book you didn’t see that his fate now changed.

“So what should I call you? Oh! How about my love?” he asked excitedly making me agree instantly

“Whatever you like my cupid but right now I have to do my job” you said your goodbye. “Bye my love” Eros said back dreamily making you giggle as you turn back to your mansion.

You reread the journal to make sure everything was in shape in normal but it wasn’t….

See with the journal you can see everyone’s fate even gods or goddesses with Eros it holds a sparkling pink thread around his fate. It’s fading…. And not for the right reasons it should.

Eros fate is about love…

A king and queen has three daughters, all three of the girls are attractive but one of them is absolutely gorgeous- Phyche was her name. People would come all over to check out how beautiful she was. neglecting the proper worship of Aphrodite, instead prayed and made offerings to her. It was rumored that she was the second coming of Venus, or the daughter of Venus from an unseemly union between the goddess and a mortal. Venus is offended, and commissions Cupid to work her revenge. Cupid is sent to shoot Psyche with an arrow so that she may fall in love with something hideous. He instead scratches himself with his own dart, which makes any living thing fall in love with the first thing it sees. Consequently, he falls deeply in love with Psyche and disobeys his mother's order. Although her two humanly beautiful sisters have married, the idolized Psyche has yet to find love. Her father suspects that they have incurred the wrath of the gods, and consults the oracle of Apollo. The response is unsettling: the king is to expect not a human son-in-law, but rather a dragon-like creature The transported girl awakes to find herself at the edge of a cultivated grove. Exploring, she finds a marvelous house with golden columns, a carved ceiling of citrus wood and ivory, silver walls embossed with wild and domesticated animals, and jeweled mosaic floors. A disembodied voice tells her to make herself comfortable, and she is entertained at a feast that serves itself and by singing to an invisible lyre. Although fearful and without the proper experience, she allows herself to be guided to a bedroom where, in the darkness, a being she cannot see has sex with her. She gradually learns to look forward to his visits, though he always departs before sunrise and forbids her to look upon him. Soon, she becomes pregnant.

One night after Cupid falls asleep, Psyche carries out the plan her sisters devised: she brings out a dagger and a lamp she had hidden in the room, in order to see and kill the monster. But when the light instead reveals the most beautiful creature she has ever seen, she is so startled that she wounds herself on one of the arrows in Cupid's cast-aside quiver. Struck with a feverish passion, she spills hot oil from the lamp and wakes him. He flees, and though she tries to pursue, he flies away and leaves her on the bank of a river.

The rest of his fate was faded

You stood there shocked, this never happened before… this should’ve never happened. Why is it fading?

The ink was supposed to stay as it should so why is his fate changing?

You couldn’t say that you were glad his fate was changing, you were falling for the cupid after all but that did not mean he couldn’t be happy.

All she could do was watch the ink disappear like his fate was never there, and hope a new fate can appear for him. You slammed the book shut and rush to make sure Eros was safe.

When you saw him getting an apple from a tree you immediately rushed to him with a hug. Eros almost fell from the rush of someone.

“Woah My love, are you alright?” he asked gently not wanting to trigger you.

You put your hands on his cheek to make sure he has no injuries. “Of course, Are you okay?” you asked worriedly.

“Yeah? ___ we saw each other ten minutes ago, what’s wrong?” he asked making you hesitate on the question it’s self. It’s not like you can hide his dying fate from him but know something could be wrong is killing you.

“Y-Your fate changed and I couldn’t do anything about it and I thought something was wrong” You admitted making him nod.

“My fate with a human girl?” he asked making you instantly nod.

“Yeah a-and wait how did you know?” You asked making him chuckle awkwardly before clearing his throat to explain.

“W-Well I look in the journal and saw how my fate went and honestly I don’t want that to happen because ___ goddess of fate i’m in love with you” He confessed making you blush in shyness.

“W-What?” You whispered.

“I got approval from you family especially Ares and Zeus even though they’re scary as hell but I was willing to do it for you and I have been falling for you for decades but you were to busy in your work” He explained

“Well Eros of love and sex I will happily be yours” You said making him spin you around in joy.

“I’ll definitely make you the most happiest goddess in this earth my love” he stated making you hum as you leaned in as you both kissed passionately.

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic July 23 - prompt 23: Rescue [word count 798]

Sirius had learned to recognise every single sound around him. He could hear the legions of rats plaguing Azkaban scurrying in the walls. They hadn’t come into his cell after the first night he had spent there, when the first rat to poke its head in the newcomer’s cell had ended up crushed in Padfoot’s jaw, paying for another rat. He could hear every sound traveling down the corridor. He could tell how many Dementors were by his cell by the swish of their coats alone. Sometimes a hysterical laughter echoed from who knew exactly where up to his cell. The first time he had heard it, Sirius had had to lean on the wall and had immediately transformed into Padfoot again, curling up in the corner opposite the door. Now when he heard it it barely fazed him.

“Hello there, Bella. Still alive then,” he would murmur before resuming what he was doing which was usually trying to stare out of the small grated window above his cot.

Other sounds traveled to his cell, mainly screams or begging, and other times a voice talking. Sirius had taken quite some time to recognise the voice, despite having heard it often in the corridors at Hogwarts years before. Crouch Jr. The only person left for him to blame for Regulus’s death since Orion and Walburga had apparently died from the utter shock of having no heirs left after October 31st. And now he was stuck in a place where the other’s voice would drift through the door, sometimes arguing loudly, sometimes possibly reciting whole pages of books Sirius remembered having studied himself, sometimes laughing almost as hysterically as Bellatrix, sometimes repeating the same word over and over like the night before when Sirius hadn’t been able to sleep because the whole prison seemed to be filled with one word.

“Rose, rose, rose, rose, rose, rose, rose.”

Come dawn, Sirius hadn’t been able to know if he wanted to ask Crouch when he had become so interested in botanic or just strangle him.

So it was natural for him to hear an unusual sound as soon as it echoed somewhere. Footsteps. The Dementors only glided, and no one was ever allowed to visit Azkaban. It was a double sound, as if two people were walking in the corridors, their steps different. Sirius was about to move to the door to better listen when the footsteps stopped somewhere. A couple of seconds later, his door blew up in a flash of bright green light and smoke. Sirius coughed and tried to better look at the shape coming through the smoke. He blinked, feeling his heart skip a beat, then he was crushed by two arms.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, my love,” Remus’s voice whispered in his ear.

“Moony,” Sirius looked up at his boyfriend’s face. “I thought… I mean, they must have told you…”

“They packed you up without even a trial and sent Harry away somewhere just as fast. It was all too easy, I knew something was missing even if I don’t know what.”

“I swapped with Peter. He was Secret Keeper instead of me.”

As he watched the colour drain from Remus’s face, Sirius realised he had never been able to say that sentence out loud. Remus swallowed.

“Alright,” he managed to say. “We’ll deal with this as soon as we’re back on land.”

“How did you get in here?”

“I had help,” Remus motioned to the door.

The green smoke had almost cleared by now, and on the threshold stood a pretty blonde woman, her hands calmly crossed on her very pregnant belly.

“Pandora Lovegood,” she smiled at him. “You might remember me as Pandora Rosier back in school.”

Sirius just nodded. The Rosier twins, other people who had constantly been around Regulus. He remembered the Order meeting when Alastor Moody had proudly announced Evan Rosier had been killed in a run-in with the Aurors.

“She’s got a knack for explosives,” Remus said as if it was the most natural thing in the world, running around Azkaban with the sister of a Death Eater. “The smoke stuns the Dementors as well.”

“But not forever,” Pandora said. “Come on, I have another cell door to blow up before we can go, and I don’t want to be too long, my husband worries easily.”

“Which door?” Sirius asked as he followed Remus in the corridor, strewn with motionless Dementors.

“Barty Crouch Jr,” Remus said. “I had to agree to it to rescue you.”

“Crouch?” Sirius repeated. “But he’s been condemned to life here!”

“As were you,” Pandora smiled. “Besides, there’s something him and me have to tell you about your brother.”

“Regulus?” Sirius breathed.

“Come on,” Pandora started down the corridor. “We have an awful lot to do.”