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itsswritten · 3 months ago

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Cauldron-born | Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word count: 4.1K

Summary: When an unexplainable energy pulls the Inner Circle to barge into the Day court, they're all shocked at what they find. But it's Azriel who can't help wonder if his dreams have finally been answered.

Part 1

A cackle pierced through you as Cressida looked upon you with a devilish glint.

“You believe you are a witch?” Her tone caught you off guard. Her patronisation questioning everything you had ever held to be true. Surely you were? It was the only thing that made some sense. Your brows furrowed tightly as you regarded the woman who had offered you shelter and refuge over the past few years.

Her laughing died down, her beautiful skin perfect by the ruins and spells she’d used for centuries, not displaying a single crease visible upon her flesh.

“Oh child what an easy life this would have been if we were more akin.”

You sat upright with a jolt, the murmuring of a dream— a memory whispering at the corners of your mind. Your heart swelling with the familiarity of someone you missed, despite her disposition, her cruel tone, that mean glint in her eye— you missed her. But as you felt the plush sheets beneath your body you knew you were no longer in the witches cottage at the corners of The Middle.

You had left that plagued land a while ago now.

A soft rap roused you from your thinking. The usual wake up call must have been the noise to stir you from your slumber in the first place, a familiar rumble of a tone behind the oak doors.

“Come in,” you replied softly. Your feet swinging off the side of the bed, as you walked towards the large curtain that hung from the high ceilings to the dark obsidian floor beneath your feet.

It should have been cool to the touch under your toes, but the house had a magical way of ensuring your comfort— always.

You heard the bedroom door swing open, your back to the welcomed guest as your fingers dropped from the luxe curtain fabric you had just pulled, inviting the warmth of the morning sun into your rooms.

“Blessed be my morning star, did you sleep well?” A deep sing-song tone bellowed into the room, a playfulness dancing on his words.

You cringed under the greeting, choosing not to turn to show your disdain at his choice of greeting and nickname. The sun was only just rising, sending splintered beams of light across your bedroom floor and walls.

“Helion, must you greet me in such a way?” He could practically hear the way you rolled your eyes and cringed at his words. You hadn’t turned to him yet, your gaze settling on the tops of the city below that the curtains had just revealed.

The view from your bedroom had changed more frequently in recent years. No longer the welcomed view of your childhood— the farm fields you grew up in, the misty fog that covered the northern part of the continent that you had always found comfort in.

No longer the harsh winding forest, dark trees that looked more like creatures that lurked outside the witches cottage— Cressida’s home— if you could even call it a home. Her den, rooted in The Middle.

No longer the glistening golden rooftops of Day, the sparkling white walls that danced the sunlight off the buildings in a way that made the whole court shimmer.

Instead, the panes of glass showed three mountainous peaks, dusted with snow in the distance and a city below— Velaris, the city of starlight.

Or the city of slumber. You were not well acquainted with the routines of the Night court residents. Them usually rousing from sleep well later into the day. However it did make your mornings quieter.

The auras of people settled in sleep, their noise, their colours dimming as you watched the kaleidoscope of energy dance lazily along to rooftops. It would be beautiful, if it wasn’t so loud.

You winced slightly at the sight, the lights and colours nudging on your mind. Poking and prodding a little harder than they had yesterday. It had been several days since Helion’s spell. A string of wryds to help contain your ability— dim it down, to subdue it, make it more bearable— but the spell was wearing thin.

Ever since that night—that fateful night where you almost left this world— your ability had been at a loss. Something that had always been as easy as breathing, as easy as a crisp night breeze filling your lungs, was now overwhelming and terrifying. If it wasn’t for Helion and his spell cleaving you're not even sure you’d still be here, in fact you’re certain it would have consumed you.

As beautiful as the auras of the world were, if you couldn’t control it— it would be the death of you.

“How are you feeling?” You had finally turned to Helion now, his question lingering in the air.

How were you feeling?

You could see, feel, taste Helion’s energy in front of you. A golden glow, so fitting for the High Lord of Day. It beamed within him like an orb of sunlight. You couldn’t touch it though, not like you used to, not like when you were a child and you used the naively play with creatures auras like a toy. Not like how Cressida had taught you to toy with people’s auras which was far from play.

That sense of control had broken, leaving jagged scars across your body to match.

Your hands, almost subconsciously went to touch the rugged scar that ran from your shoulder down to your torso. It tingled under your thoughts, but you pulled your hand back. Not allowing another moment to be wasted on what had happened and the marks it had left on you.

That was why you needed Helion and his spells. He had a way of dimming it with his own power, making it easier for you to navigate your day-to-day without being utterly consumed by the noise and colours of everyone else.

“I feel okay actually,” you had responded, your eyes moving up to the lines on your friends face. He smiled softly at you.

“This is the longest you’ve been without us having to spell cleave, but today—“

“Today could be a noisy day,” you finished his sentence, understanding what he was implying.

Tody, you were to begin training with the Valkyries.

“Those priestesses are already a bundle of emotions when they pass you, I think resealing the spell would be wise. Amren agrees.”

Well then, it wasn’t really up for debate.

You cocked a brow at Helion before moving towards the table in your room. That was now adorned with breakfast, courtesy of the house of course. Helion folded his arms across his broad chest. He still wore the colours of Day, white and pristine, glittered in gold jewellery along his wrists, earrings bejewelled with sunlight themselves. Grand and beautiful, just like him. However he looked so out of place against the dark background of the Night interior. As ornate as the House of Wind was, Helion didn’t fit.

No, he belonged among his own court, but the High Lord of day had left his court to accompany you. That in itself was such a large display of loyalty. You swallowed your guilt as you sat at the table, spreading butter across the warm toast and taking a bite.

“But of course the decision is always yours to make y/n,” Helion spoke, his tone as warm as the butter melting upon your breakfast.

They only wanted what was best for you, you knew that. Reminded yourself in moments like these. But you couldn’t help the feelings that slipped up to the surface. Since you’d come to the Fae courts and discovered who you were—what you were. Every piece of guidance came with a weight you felt like you couldn’t refuse.

You were the Mother’s daughter— Blessed be— you had status, respect, power— to do as you please, but that came with a responsibility that felt too heavy to bear. Every decision you made had to be considered, because it didn’t only affect you but the entire world and the peoples and creatures within it.

That meant, even if you wanted to try and push another day without the spell. See how far you could go as the spell thinned, you couldn’t risk it. As it wasn’t only you who it would endanger, but every living thing.

When Helion had found you— a shattered version of yourself— he’d spent the time piecing you back together. Perhaps out of duty to begin with, but somewhere along that journey a genuine friendship grew. However that would never negate from who you were, and what you were born to do— what your life’s duty was to be, and what he, what Amren, whatever everyone else on this island needed to do ensure you accomplished it.

“Let’s reseal the spell,” you muttered before taking another chomp of your toast, a softer look on your eyes this time. “…after breakfast.”

Helion smiled warmly, joining you at the table as he had done now every morning since he saved you.

The simmering of the fresh spell lingered on your skin, Helion’s magic coursing an invisible shield around you. The spell acting as a filter to the aura you were always so sensitive to.

The early days of his spells were always the nicest, at least they were nowadays. After building your tolerance back up with Helion, the first week of his spell usually lasted with minimal discomfort. He always had to be near though, his rooms were only down the hall to yours.

Sometimes your tolerance was less, or someone or some creature’s aura louder than usual that you needed him to reseal. It was why for the past year he’d essentially been attached to you at the hip, like a doting father or brother. And then there was Amren— doting wasn’t the word you would use. But she was always there too now. Out of duty of course, the way she’d collapsed down to her knees in your first encounter revealed how strongly her loyalty would lie to you.

Or lie to what you stood for.

Amren, the ancient one knew what your existence meant. Felt it in her bones, remembered the murmurings of stories and prophecies she listened to back in her own adolescent years. She knew what was coming, and knew how important it was that the Mother’s daughter had her ability under control.

So here you were, stood before Helion and Amren like a girl on her first day of school. Helion tightened one of the straps on the leathers you had been told to wear. He couldn’t attend the training class, only approved males were sanctioned so he would stay the floor below. In a waiting room. A handful of books already tucked under his arm.

“Stop fussing over the girl,” Amren snapped, her expression as hard as it always was. Despite her being utterly devoted to you and your protection, that dedication did not come with a slither of a smile.

You may have found her scary, if she didn’t remind you so much of someone you missed.

Helion gave you a knowing look before playfully winking at you. His large hands coming to squeeze your shoulders.

“How do you feel?” He asked, ignoring Amren at his side.

“The world is quiet once more,” you replied in a slightly chipper tone that garnered a smile from Helion.

He tapped the top of your head, “If we need to reseal, or something triggers it you leave right away, okay?”

You nodded in response along with a hum in agreement. This training was supposed to do the opposite of just that, however there were concerns. After the inner circle had barged their way into the Day Court a month ago, after Helion revealed who you were— a lot had changed.

Your belongings— which wasn’t very many— were packed up, along with you and Helion as you were practically shipped to the Night Court. You realised when you arrived how this had always been Helion’s intention. Why he’d taken the time to tell you the names of the Night Courts inner circle all those months ago. It was because they held significance in your journey.

The Night Court was safer, Velaris having an ancient spell that had protected it for so long. Amren was to teach you, she had knowledge that even Helion’s libraries didn’t share. There was Rhys too, with his mind and magic who was a crucial part to play in you regaining control of your power.

And now there were the Valkyries, who you were to train with.

You leaned against the railing of the rooftop, your eyes dancing upon the still sleeping city. It was quieter now, thanks to Helion. No noise and colours probing into your mind.

It was peaceful, and yet so lonely. When you had full control of your ability, back when it felt like an extension of you. You could slip in and out of it with ease, danced with it, sung with it. Now, it felt like a headache that could only be dulled with Helion’s magic.

“It is the mind-stilling which is a priority in your training. I believe it could be key to you regaining control over your abilities. You will train with the Valkyrie’s everyday until you master it.” Amren spoke. You didn’t turn to look at her, your eyes still gazing onto the cityscape below. Your mind wandering to what the people below were up to, what they may have been dreaming of. Thinking back to a time when your life was much simpler, when the most daunting part of your week was whether one of the village boys would fancy you.

You stopped yourself there. Stopped yourself from indulging and reminiscing in the past. The continent was so far away now, as was that version of you.

“What if it doesn’t work?” You turned to Amren, concern evident in your tone. The sun kissing your face as your brows furrowed.

She was sat in the shade, back against the cool stone wall of the house, “It has to.”

A silence settled between you both. Amren was right, this had to work because Mother be damned if it didn’t.

Nesta cringed as she watched the priestesses fuss. She had told them to be on their best behaviour, but in the presence of a living deity the females couldn’t help themselves.

They blushed and whispered, giggled and muttered words of prayer, some even curtseying as soon as they stepped onto the rooftop. Rollings of ‘Blessed be’ harmonised from their tongues and even Gwyn’s eyes widened in the presence of you. The female looked ready to burst with excitement.

There was something about your presence that was otherworldly, not just in your beauty but in the way you moved among the earth spoke of grace. Nesta couldn’t believe her eyes when she had found out you’d grown up on the continent on a farm and then The Middle— with a witch! And yet there was a regality that existed within you that couldn’t be taught, it had just always been, you had been born with it, cauldron-born to be exact.

You stood in front of them all, your own embarrassment from the fuss evident in your averting gaze. Gently— with delicate grace— you bowed your head towards the priestesses, responding appropriately with a whispering “Blessed be,” which only seemed to elicit more noise from the females. Enough noise that it took you a beat to notice the gust of wind that blew across your face as a shadow blocked out the sun for a moment. With a thud two large Illyrian males landed in the middle of the rooftop balcony.

Helion’s spell had been working fine till now, not a whisper or a simmering of aura— till you saw him.

Felt him, scented him.

In a flurry of steps you found your back pressed against the railing on the rooftop. The very presence of someone causing your feet to stumble back, hands clutching the railing tightly in a blur of a moment. He was here. The very male you often found yourself dreaming of when your mind wasn’t caught in the past.

Azriel.

Amren had launched from her place, she had been watching you so closely that even just a tremor of difference she would notice. But it wasn’t just Amren who had stepped towards you, the Shadowsinger himself had taken several large strides since landing as if he’d also always been watching.

“Do I need to get Helion?” Amren asked with an urgency in her tone.

Your breaths were shallow, your gaze falling to your feet as you tried to focus. You had been caught off guard, in the silence of spell you hadn’t expected any noise at all. You hadn’t been affected by the lively group of priestesses, Nesta’s silver aura hadn’t been licking at your mind or even the thousands of people in the city below hadn’t affected you.

But him. He had triggered something, somehow.

Azriel looked upon you with a concern that felt heavy. Hesitant as he stood only a step behind Amren.

Had he startled you? When him and Cassian had landed? Azriel couldn’t deny he had rushed to this training session, after spending the month on a mission. Rhys had sent word that you were to begin training, and the swell in Azriel’s chest was enough to have Cassian trying to keep up to the Spymaster on their entire flight home.

Azriel’s eyes wandered over you, his shadows whispering their own concerns. They had noticed your nerves, just as he had noticed them during his first encounter with you. It was his job to notice the little things, his duty as spymaster to notice the things others couldn’t, but even he couldn’t explain why he felt so attuned to you.

The morning breeze gently blew across your face, pulling the pieces of hair that were loose from your braid. You had calmed yourself, calmed yourself enough to raise your head to the audience on the rooftop. He could see you now, fully, for the first time in a month, and Azriel forgot how to breathe.

Divine.

He thought it was his shadows that whispered it, but maybe it was his own thoughts too. You were the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid his eyes on— angelic and saintly.

Divine was the only word for it.

Divine, divine, divine. His shadows sang.

“No, I am fine,” you finally replied to Amren. She looked at you sceptically, a look in her face that told you if you were lying then there would be hell to pay. You repeated yourself though, stepping away from the railing you had pressed yourself against.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, not yet. Not after what he had just triggered, that tightness in your chest was new and overwhelming to say the least. It was different though, to the way auras usually felt that left you with confusion and questions to why the Shadowsinger felt, smelt, tasted so different to everyone else.

You were grateful for the male beside him who decided to speak. “Sorry we probably startled you, just dropping from the sky like that— we tend to do that sometimes.” It was Cassian who had spoken, a warmness in his tone that reminded you of Helion. There was a twinkle in his eye of light-heartedness that seemed to dissipate the unease that had settled among the group.

You offered him a soft smile that only seemed to spur him on. His tone bellowing as he outstretched his arms in introduction, “I’m Cassian, and this is—“

“Azriel,” you finished his sentence for him. Not being able to stop yourself from saying his name out loud. Not being able to stop yourself from finally looking at him.

“Right, Azriel. You’ve already met,” Cassian replied, a look in his eye as he glanced between his brother and you.

It wasn’t fair. Wasn’t fair how much lovelier he was than in your dreams— which you didn’t think could be possible. The handsome lines of his tanned face, the dark hair that fell in loose curls and those large wings that were tucked behind his back. Your eyes dragged across him, finally landing on his own gaze. How it brought you back to that first moment you met him—how he had trapped you in his gaze back in the courtyard of Day.

“And I’m Gwyn,” the words had practically burst from the red-headed female. Her deciding now was clearly the right time to introduce herself, not that you minded. In fact if she hadn’t you may have just stared at the Shadowsinger all day, “…and I think I can speak on behalf of us all, but it is truly an honour that you wish to train with us.”

There were some murmurings from the priestesses then, as if in agreement and even Cassian tipped his head in bow towards you.

There it was again, that weight you held. Crushing and terrifying, they put you an a pedestal, showered you with adoration you weren’t too sure you deserved. With subtle strain you forced a gentle smile onto your lips.

“The honour is all mine Gwyn,” and you meant it. The people on this balcony had earned that praise more than you ever had.

“She just said my name,” Gwyn whispered in disbelief to her friends, her cheeks going rosy at the recognition. Nesta simply rolled their eyes, Emery teasingly nudged Gwyn with her elbow.

But it was a sentiment Azriel was still stuck on too. You had said his name, knew his name— knew him. His name on your lips was like a song, a melody you serenaded him with. His shadows had felt it too, your recognition of their master causing a stir that had them wanting to reach out—which they would have if Azriel didn’t have them on such a tight leash. Azriel only tore his gaze from you when Amren spoke up.

“Enough about honour and names,” Amren snapped, her eyes not landing on you but the the two males who had just arrived. They understand her stare, her tone, the waft of her had as she strode back to her spot in the shade.

“Right let’s start ladies, find a space and we’ll begin with stretches,” Cassian commanded, his tone authoritative that had the females moving into motion. Even Azriel snapped himself from his thoughts, collecting himself as he stalked towards one side of the balcony.

You followed suit, following the motion of the other females and finding yourself in amongst the group to begin. You noticed though how Nesta had come to your left, Emery flanking your right, and Gwyn directly behind you. As if creating their own shield. Perhaps a statement to the swooning priestesses— regardless, you were appreciative.

Stretching began, and you copied Cassian’s movements in front of you. In sync with the other females around you. Moving your muscles in a way you hadn’t for a while, stretching the aches you didn’t know were there. Cassian stood in front of the group, bellowing whenever the stretch would change.

The movement was welcome though. You’d always had an active life. Growing up on a farm, tending to the crops and harvests had been your way. You weren’t new to the ache of a hard days work. Then you’d spent your time in The Middle, with Cressida who had an unrelenting method of training you.

“I’ve heard you’re not a novice?” Nesta asked you as the group was split in two. One side had been pulled to practice mind-stilling, the other, your group, had been given wooden staffs to practice more physical exercises.

You took the staff in your hand, curling your fingers around the rod. Nesta wasn’t referencing your past though. She was asking about your time in Day, you hummed in response with a nod. “I trained with Helion’s sentries for a few months,” it helped…for a while. Your progress had soon dropped off though, plateaued, which was why you were here. To see if the Valkyrie way of training would help in any way.

Nesta nodded in response, before tapping your staff twice with hers. “Show me then,” she moved into a defensive stance and your brow quirked.

It was a challenge, she had been the only one who had dared, the only person to treat you with some semblance or normalcy— and it made you smile.

a/n: well here is part 2, I’m sorry this has quite literally taken months to get this instalment live, so I really appreciate any of you who might still be around to read this! I do think this has the potential to be a slightly bigger series than I first anticipated, but I guess that’s my fault for giving our mc the coolest back story ever 😅 anyway enjoy my loves 🤍 - Lottie xx

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trashogram · 1 year ago

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He Chose You (Pt.1)

Lucifer/Reader

Hazbin Hotel AU where Lilith never existed, Lucifer has been lonely for over a millennia and Charlie will be born one way or another. Rated E for explicit sexual content of the raunchiest variety in later chapters and also weird old people.

There was a knock at your door. It sounded like someone rapping their knuckles against the wood whimsically, as if following the beat of a song you couldn’t hear.

The methodical folding of your clothes into garage sale-quality drawers came to a halt. You looked over your shoulder, shifting on your feet hesitantly.

It had been little over a week since you moved into the grand old Donner apartment. Apart from a quick tow-in of shoddy furniture from your hired movers, no one had come calling.

You definitely weren’t expecting anyone either, not in a brand new city you’d spontaneously decided to live in.

After another moment of uncertainty, you pivoted to the door and inched it open to a slit you could peek through. “Hello?”

Your brow furrowed as you stared at the empty space ahead of you. Pulling the door open fully, you peered down one end of the hallway to the other.

Nothing but cracked and crumbling crown moldings on wainscoting, a matted-looking saxony carpet, the same musty, stale air…

‘Quack’

You nearly jumped out of your skin, head snapping down to see a real, live duck standing just outside your doorframe.

“Oh!”

You immediately squatted down to marvel at the animal. It gazed back up at you with beady red eyes and a curious gait.

“Hey little guy,” You cooed, smiling despite the incongruous image of a waterfowl in your building.

You raised a hand and reached out slowly, instinctive desire to pet the cute little creature warring with a minuscule yet no less embarrassing fear.

Were ducks typically friendly? You knew so little, ornithology not being your thing.

“Will you let me pet you?” Your fingers hovered over the surprisingly patient animal before it decided to nudge itself under your palm.

The duck shivered with delight at your touch, all-white feathers ruffling excitedly and tail wagging, looking akin to a very happy dog.

“Oh my god.” You gasped, heart melting. “You’re so cute!”

Soft feathers brushed against your bent knees as the duck drew close enough to rub its body against you. It had gone from doggish to cat-like effortlessly, and you couldn’t help giggling over how silly it looked.

“Where did you come from?” You asked after a bit of cuddling, glancing from side to side once again. The hallway remained empty, no one running to fetch what you assumed was a beloved pet.

‘That’s… weird.’ You thought. ‘So, who knocked on my door?’

It was tempting to ask the bird that was currently bouncing on its webbed feet. You couldn’t help but snort with laughter before positioning yourself so that you were sitting. In an instant, the duck made to climb into your lap, allowing you to carefully lift it onto your legs when it couldn’t reach.

“You’re so silly!” Grinning, you continued to stroke its head. “Your owner is probably worried sick about their silly little guy.”

‘Quack’

The duck burrowed its head against your stomach as it settled on your lap, and you sighed. “I’d love to keep you, but I don’t know how to take care of you, sweetie.”

Little red eyes bore into you from below, seemingly wide and beseeching. It was too precious, and too perfect (to the point where you idly wondered if someone was somehow scouting a way to scam you via adorable duck shenanigans).

Aside from the guttural, sad ‘wek’ you got in reply, a slow creak of hinges drew your attention back up. The door across from you had visibly opened the barest amount. You squinted, just able to make out frizzy red hair and a red-rimmed, down-turned mouth in the dim lighting.

“Oh hey, hi!” You stopped yourself from standing, instead of bracing the bundle in your lap close. “Is this your duck?”

A tingle went up your spine as the door opened fully and an old woman appeared. She was dressed in green capri pants and a ruffled tan blouse, hair red as an open flame and barely kept in-check by a cheetah-print scarf. The makeup she wore was caked on, harsh red lipstick smeared around her thin lips and black kohl-rimmed eyes popping out of her wrinkled face.

The sour, almost suspicious look on her face softened but did not completely go away, even when she smiled.

“Oh Lou!” She cried, making you jump. “You didn’t get very far, did you? I almost didn’t notice you were gone, you little scoundrel!”

“Well, thank goodness for that I guess. He’s got those little legs, ya see,” She nodded down at your lap, “but he’s so darn fast anyway, might as well be a midget racehorse!”

You chuckled and smiled politely. That persistent tingling at your back had you holding back a shiver, and the skin on your arms prickled and rose.

“I didn’t know we could have pet ducks in this building.” Your words belied a confidence, as well as interest in having a conversation with this woman, that you didn’t truly have.

As a matter of fact, despite the inner scolding you gave yourself for being judgmental, you were quite off-put in the woman’s presence. The want to return to your apartment and shut the door in her overly-painted face was rising like a lump in your throat.

“He seems to really like you, that’s so sweet. He’s not usually this friendly with anyone but my hubby. That’s Mr. Farrow, honey, have you met him?” The woman - presumably Mrs, Farrow, leaned down just a few feet away.

She still looked to be examining you and your avian companion, the bland pleasantness oozing yet unable to suffocate the shrewd glint in her dark eyes.

“Oh, uh, no. I’m afraid I haven’t -” You started.

“Oh, that’s alright! That’s fine! Matter of fact, he’d get an earful from me if he was talkin’ to a pretty thing like you without me knowin’!” Mrs. Farrow laughed. “Just kiddin’, honey. You’re new to the building though, aren’t you? Well, welcome! It’s nice to see a new face here! ‘Specially a young one!”

“Thank —”

“Maybe that’s why Lou is so taken with you! Animals just thrive off energy and sunshine and all that. Not slow, almost dead things. I’m sure you’re birds of a feather that way.”

Again, your soft laughter is polite, teetering on nervousness.

You took a moment to rise, humming apologetically when Lou squawked as he was jostled. On your feet, you instinctively stepped back. One foot over the threshold and solid in your apartment.

“He is really sweet.” You said, holding the animal out as carefully as you could. “I’m glad he didn’t get lost.”

Mrs. Farrow stared, arms falling to her sides. She didn’t attempt to take the bird from you for a long, long moment.

Confusion and disbelief clouded your mind as you stood, waiting, watching as Mrs. Farrow’s throat bobbed when she swallowed forcefully.

What? Was she afraid of the duck?

In a split-second, she returned to smiling animatedly and waved a geriatric hand in the air so flippantly that the uncomfortable moment ceased to exist.

“Oh honey, you can put him down if you want. He’ll come back over now that our door’s open.” Mrs. Farrow laughed. “Lou’s not my biggest fan. He’s such a prideful thing, you know. Just like Mr. Farrow - it’s probably why they get along so well!”

You blinked, then slowly bent at the waist to let Lou down. The duck made another disdainful quack, red eyes looking at you morosely.

It’s little legs eventually rowed through the air in an effort to gain footing. You lightly placed him over the carpet and let go, allowing Lou to jump down.

The duck began waddling away, though it appeared to hang its head as it did so. Occasionally, he turned to look at you, somber and sullen as if bidding farewell before walking on death row.

“Aww, poor little thing.” Mrs. Farrow drawled. At your side. “Looks like my Lou is sweet on you! Poor guy, I can see why! Again, a lovely young thing like you is probably a gift from above in this stuffy old place.”

“Say, how long have you been here?”

You turned to the old woman. “About a week, I’m still getting settled.”

Mrs. Farrow nodded vigorously, eyes bright but mouth pursed. “A week, a week?! A week and no one’s introduced themselves to you?”

“Holy Toledo, you must think we’re all a bunch a’ snobs in here! That’s no good. Oh! Why don’t you come over for dinner sometime and me and my mister can show you some proper hospitality?”

“Oh, that's really nice of you —”

“Sure! Sure! It’ll be great, how ‘bout tomorrow night? It’d give us some time to get prepared, have things cleaned and settled. Do you like steak? That’d be perfect, actually. I’ve got some in the freezer just waitin’ to be defrosted.”

“Um, well — That’s a little short notice…”

“I’m sure Mr. Farrow won’t mind. He’ll be glad for the company, and if he isn’t, well he will be when I’m done with him.” She chortled. “Just another joke, honey. He’s always dyin’ to talk to someone that isn’t me. It’d be a real treat to him. Treat ta me too! What do you say?”

Your mouth opened and closed as a light sheen of sweat broke over the nape of your neck. Mrs. Farrow’s sharp eyes were wider, attempting to beguile you while your head was still spinning.

“I-I guess, maybe —” You stammered.

“Wonderful!” The eccentric woman’s eyes lit up like fireworks, cigarette-smoker’s voice becoming truly raucous in her delight. “I’ll go ahead and get started. You go get back to what it was you were doing before Lou and I interrupted you! And don’t worry about a thing! We might be old timers, but a good meal and good cheer never go out of style.”

Mrs. Farrow laughed, pretending to shoo you away until you were back inside your apartment and she was pulling your door to a close for you.

“Have a good night, honey! We’ll see you tomorrow! 6 o’clock, don’t be late!”

Before you knew it, you were staring at the back of your own door again.

‘What the fuck just happened?’

#hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel

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pangur-and-grim · 6 hours ago

Text

here, impulsively sharing the first 2 chapters of the ghoul book. I'll delete this pretty soon, though

CHAPTER 1

The witch summoned me from the dead at a most inconvenient time.

Inconvenient because I’d been rotting in perfect peace and oblivion. And then, all of a sudden, I had to be someone again. And be in a room.

A well-furnished one, at that. A four-poster bed crouched in the back, its hangings embroidered with flowers. A fireplace, devoid of fire, failed to warm the room. An imported carpet lay in a heap, having been shoved to clear space for my summoning pentacle. And everywhere, embellishments: nothing existed that wasn’t carved, painted, or otherwise dripping with frills.

Oh yes, and amidst this all stood the witch.

Pale and beady, she rapped fingers against her crossed arms. From a certain angle, the witch might be considered attractive, but that angle might require contortion. Like, say, a headstand. She had mouse-brown hair scraped into a coiled bun, a chin sharp enough to jab you with, and an apparent lack of eyebrows. Or no, they existed; I observed them now, as she pulled them together in a frown. The hairs had simply been too fine for me to see in this gloom. The high, arched windows had all been covered, the velvet curtains glowing bloody with exiled sunlight. Candles stood in silver holders at the edges of my pentacle, granting faint flickering light, and the stench of wax.

Floral scents of rosemary and lavender drifted in the air, along with the sharp spice of basil. All commonly used in spell craft. So, she was a practiced witch. She’d know, then, what happened to a discontent soul when pulled from its grave.

It became a ghoul.

I was a ghoul.

A whip-tailed, ember-eyed, slabber-jawed ghoul. A desiccated creature, with the power to mimic any human it has consumed. Ghouls are born from human corpses, and I seemed to be no exception. A swansdown burial robe hung loosely about me, ruffled at the neck and sleeves, and mottled in rot and decay. It stank, and itched, and lost flakes of itself as I shifted. I’d just resolved to absolve myself of this problem, when a sigh across the room brought my attention back to the witch. And to the dead man, who lay at her feet like a tired but loyal dog.

“I will not be eating that.” I paused my undressing to point a claw-tipped finger at the man. Did he look delectable? Of course he did. Obviously. But, despite the sharpness of my teeth, and the saliva that dangled freely from my chin, a sense of wrongness persisted. If there were things that I should do, and things that I should not, this felt like it fit firmly into the latter category.

The man’s neck had been pierced with a long, thin instrument. Whatever killed him left only a pinprick, but released a tremendous amount of now-coagulating blood. Already, this dried into red-brown flakes about the woman’s feet, the metallic stench somewhat fainter than if it were fresh fresh. Blood painted the front of her dress, and her hands, and her face, where she’d wiped something away – tears? A stray hair?

The witch frowned at me. “You will do as I command,” she said, in a voice as posh as the décor.

“I will not.”

“I have raised you from the dead,” she said, “and so yes, you will.”

“Come on. Fuck off with that.”

Her eyes, a pale, nasty sort of green, narrowed. “I have read your books. Extensively. Nowhere in them do you swear.”

“You pulled me from the heavens, where I had a score of angels fellating me. That merits some language.” I paused for long enough to maintain dignity. “Also, what books?”

A terrible thing about ghouls: no memory. They retain a general sense of the world - their knowledge of magic and history, for instance, and possibly some trade skills, but nothing of their former life. This is purposeful. Ghouls are stripped of their identities, so that they might better assume those of the bodies they’ve consumed, or so I’d heard. But what did I know, I’d never been a ghoul before.

That much, I felt certain of.

The witch tilted her head, squinting with intensity. “Did you truly experience an afterlife?”

“Yes,” I lied.

“You’re lying.”

“Might be,” I said. Then, eyeing the corpse: “I bet he wouldn’t be half-bad with a drizzle of cheese sauce. Maybe some garlic and oregano. Not that I’m eating him, mind you, but phew! Nice hunk of meat you got there, is all I’m saying.”

The witch walked to a velvet-lined bench, and sat, heavily. She leaned against an overstuffed cushion. “You will eat him, then?”

“Of course not. Don’t be rude.”

Reclining further on the cushions, she appraised me. There was something terribly cat-like about this woman, in both the laziness of her posture, and the cold danger of her stare. “To be forthcoming – it would be better if you obeyed, without my having to enforce it. There is no need for me to demean you –”

I let out a string of foul words.

“—though already, you demean yourself with your lack of manners.”

“Go on then, demean me.” I made a particularly crude gesture as she watched without emotion. Even scraped clean of my identity, I retained an enormous sense of myself.

“This is a waste of my energy and materials. And a stain on your dignity.” But already, she’d pushed herself off the bench, readying herself to retaliate. She stepped over the man, thoughtlessly, as she moved to a cabinet carved with spreading vines. Bundles of dried plants hung inside, all carefully labelled, above vials of fluid and organic matter. From my constrained position in the pentacle, I craned my neck, but - sensing my gaze - she hid her selected materials with a hand. Was that a slight flush I saw, in her previously blood-drained face?

I shifted in my pentacle. How she bit her lip, and the sudden clumsiness of her movements – she wasn’t aroused, was she? Was she the type to be activated by the pain of another?

I gnawed on my lip and fidgeted, while the witch gathered her ingredients. Though she made efforts to shield them from my sight, she could not hide the musky scent of nightshade. Then she plucked a hair from her head, and with a sick horror, I understood.

“No,” I gasped.

She looked up at me, sharply, and I slapped my hands together in plea. “You can’t seriously mean to do this. What about torture? You haven’t even tried torturing me yet!”

“If you had just obeyed,” she said shrilly, and I realized that her expression - which I’d been scrutinizing with some intensity - was one of embarrassment.

“You’d do this to me? After you liked my books so much? Remember my books.”

“You don’t even remember your books.”

“Those ones,” I said, pointing to a packed shelf. I scanned the spines, waiting for buried memories to trigger. One book did stand out, on virtue of being set with the gold-leaf script, and therefore rather shiny. “I am William Squire,” I said, “Author of – er.” I squinted again. “The Natural History of Plants!”

That did explain why I could identify nightshade by scent! With a puffed chest and a smug smile, I turned to the woman.

Who had resumed her work on the spell, paying me no mind. I huffed.

“Well?” I said, after the scratch of chalk on floorboards continued without pause.

“Oh. No.” She spoke with her back to me, as she knelt over her work. “I thought that was obvious.” The witch glanced over her shoulder, almost coyly. “Your books are not on that shelf.”

“I thought you liked them,” I said, trying to keep the hurt from my voice. Mulishly, I kicked my toe against the chalk outline of my pentacle, and nearly exorcized myself out of existence. I became aware, very suddenly, of the thrum of force surrounding the pentacle, and drew myself into its center, hugging my arms and tucking my tail around my legs. Then, I raised a suspicious glare to the witch.

In a normal summoning, the boundaries of my pentacle would be enforced by a taffy-like resistance, something I could push at fruitlessly. Instead, the boundaries she’d set threatened the eradication of my soul. “Overkill,” I sniffed.

She looked back at me in questioning, before taking note of my new position. “Not for you.”

That made me feel better. I was obviously very important.

More silence followed, broken only by the scratching of chalk and the quiet rotting of the dead man. “Your books are not. . . something I’d display.”

“Is it naughty?” I said, “To possess them?”

“Enough of this.”

Ghouls could only be coaxed from unsatisfied souls, those who had died in such grief or anger as to maintain a clamped hold on the living world. Who had I been, then, that my books must be hidden, and that I’d died in such a way? Was it illegal, to have my work displayed? Had I been executed, or otherwise cut down? Was I both known and loathed?

But a matter of more urgency existed.

“Even if you do this disgusting thing to me, I won’t obey you,” I said, tapping a claw in the air. “It doesn’t work like that.”

The resonance of my voice, deep and powerful, almost distracted me. Even as a ghoul, what a wonderful thing I was!

“It will for you.” She stood and rubbed her chalk-covered hands clean on her dress. Powdery white smears joined the blood.

That struck my interest. I uncoiled as much as I dared to, my arrow-tipped tailed flicking back and forth. “Why is that? What do you know of me?”

Of course, she did not answer.

“If you do this to me, I will curse you,” I said, but we both knew this to be a false threat. Ghouls were incapable of magic. “I will devour you,” I amended, and was rewarded with a muscle twitching in her cheek. She adjusted her hairpin, a further show of nerves, so I continued in a low, gleeful tone: “I will split your skull and lap up your brains. I will pop your eyeballs between my teeth. Do not do this to me.”

“It is possible that you will be vengeful,” she said, and then smiled. Those pale green eyes, their pupils contracted into tiny dots, bore into me. “Look at what I’m holding.”

I looked. I shuddered.

In her palm: three dried, lilac-grey pods. Poppies, the flower of oblivion.

“You’ll forget I ever cast it,” she said, needlessly. In my pentacle, I had already gone limp, my arms hanging gibbon-like. “In fact, you will forget that we spoke. In a few moments, it will be as thought I have summoned you for the first time.” Victory made her giddy. Her cheeks flushed red, as did her neck, and still those horrible eyes stared unblinking.

That this mousy young thing could have me cornered, and could delight in it! Heat rose in my chest, and I lifted a hand, hovering it an inch from the pentacle’s boundary. “Or I could do this.”

I’d hoped for a reaction. Maybe a girlish squeal, a clapping of hands over her cheeks. Instead, she waited, patient as a crocodile. And I waited. The candles flickered. The dead man squeaked, gas escaping from his decomposing flesh. Blood and nightshade and poppies and wax, all congealed to tickle at my slit nostrils, as a final death tingled at my fingertips.

I lowered my arm.

Her mouth split into a toothy smile.

“Fuck you,” I said, and waited meekly for my demeaning.

CHAPTER 2

A force pulled me from the void. Gently, like a lover shaking me awake.

I opened my eyes and saw her.

Instantly, everything in my world re-oriented. Did I care that I had come to in the stretched and shriveled body of a ghoul? Yes, somewhat, but only in that it affected how she might perceive me.

“Serpentine,” I blurted, as my tail coiled about my legs. She frowned, and I felt myself crumble under her regard. “It’s a gemstone. A lovely one. I. . . I may have had a ring, once. . . though I can’t seem to remember. I’m rambling. It’s your eyes.” I paused to gulp. “They match the colour, precisely.”

The woman laughed, and I used this moment to examine her. Hair, caught between brown and blonde, elegantly arranged in a bun. A face that, while not classically beautiful, had something to surpass that: character. Her body slim and young, vexingly hidden in an empire-waisted gown. And dried blood, everywhere.

Would that I could clean it off with my tongue.

“Your attitude is. . . pleasing,” she said, once the last of her laughter had torn free. She smiled at me, and I melted, only a small corner of my brain remaining alert to warn me of the doom that existed if I so much as brushed the edges of my pentacles.

“Summoned by such a powerful young witch,” I said, trying for a casual half-lean against the empty air, “How could I greet her with anything but admiration?”

“You’d be surprised,” she said through gritted teeth.

Before I could panic at this change of tone, she kicked something at her feet. I blinked. The witch had so thoroughly captivated me that I’d failed to take in the environment, least of all the dead man at her feet.

“Ghoul,” she said, breathily. “You’ll eat this for me, won’t you?”

My tail twisted in pleasure. I had to stop myself from rubbing my hands together. “Mistress witch,” I said, “I would like nothing more!”

Under the wavering shadows cast by candlelight, the face of the corpse seemed to dance with false life.

The witch muttered her way through a spell, and the power drained from my pentacle, just as the lifeblood might from a man stabbed in the neck by a hairpin. I took a step forward, my talons clicking against the floorboards. And then another – carefully, so as not to smudge the beauty of her chalked pentacle. Likely she would erase it soon enough, but I couldn’t bear to harm anything of her creation.

As I crouched before the corpse, I paused and looked up at my mistress. “Please,” I said, widening my eyes beseechingly. “May I know your name?”

If I didn’t know better, I’d think that she wanted to flinch away from me. “Erictho,” she said. “Erictho Caine.”

I tested the name, whispering it to myself, with a focus on how my throat vibrated and contracted with its passage. “Lovely,” I murmured.

My chest felt ready to burst from all the feelings I wished to express to her. Readying myself over the corpse, I tried to memorize everything about this perfect, frozen instant: my mistress standing tall above me, palpitating her forehead. The elegant furnishing of the room, a fitting environment for my lady witch. The musk of nightshade, barely palpable over the death sweetness of the corpse. . . hold on, nightshade, what would she have. . .

On far side of the room, the chalked remains of another spell marked the floor. It had been hastily smudged, all of the sigil work made inscrutable. My teeth ground together. My clawed hands clenched. “Mistress Erictho,” I said, scarcely daring to look her in the face. “I know the various uses of nightshade. You wouldn’t have happened to –”

I heard her heartbeat quicken.

“—have summoned a lesser imp, as an additional servant? I assure you, I can fulfill all your needs perfectly well on my own! All of them,” I repeated, for emphasis.

She let out a long, whistling breath. “I have not. But I’ll. . . keep that in mind.”Pleased with that, my tail wagging back and forth, I opened my mouth wide and bit into the cold flesh of the man’s face.

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illyrian-dreamer · 11 months ago

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And Then There Were None – Part 1

Azriel/fem!reader

Synopsis: In the lead up to the war, Hybern releases a catastrophic spell that wipes out all humans, sparing just one.

Abandoned in the desolate human lands, you scavenge to survive long enough to find your family.

Reluctantly, you are found by the Shadowsinger as fate intervenes to guide you under his watchful eye.

Part 2>>>

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Death, blood, suggestions of miscarriage

Twigs snapped beneath your boots, your steps heavy with exhaustion as you stumbled through yet another town, as barren and deserted as the last one.

Exhaustion and dehydration weighed heavy, wisps of dust caking your skirts, your boots the only thing to disturb the rubble in days.

There was no concern for a carriage that might pull up behind, or a bossy merchant to yell at you to clear the path. While the ghosts of the life that once flourished echoed in closed shops and abandoned stalls, you stopped looking over your back days ago.

There were no plumes of smoke from chimneys, no distant chatter or laughter or cries. Safe from the occasional grunts or mews of abandoned cattle - there was not a single sign of life, and no human in sight for the past ten days.

A jarring cramp ripped from your abdomen, pulling you from delirium with urgency.

Water, food, bathe and sleep. That was why you were here.

You tried not to think about how quickly resources were depleting, even though you were sure you were the only one using them. Without people to treat water, the stagnant liquid became increasingly dangerous. And you couldn’t farm a vegetable to save your life, and had spent too long journeying to have tended to any crops.

You’d have to go further into the woods soon, find a fresh stream, perhaps hunt too. But you'd need strength for that, and you had just about run out.

At least it was spring, and at least the trees bloomed with fruit as you travelled from town to town, feet blistered and chapped. You cursed you parents for not teaching you formidable survival skills - fighting, hunting, even the ability to ride a gods damned horse would have been an incomparable luxury these past hellish days.

A clang of guilt, and frustration quickly churned to longing. Gods, you hoped they were alive. You would do anything to have them here, to journey this devastating isolation together, the little ones too. You prayed to the Mother for the umpteenth time that day that they were safe and well.

It was not a concern when you woke to an empty house almost a fortnight earlier. Your father was likely at the market, your mother hard at work at the tailor in town. Your siblings were hard to catch at this time of year, with school out of term and the warm spring air, they would spend each waking moment by the river if your parents let them.

It wasn't until you spotted your fathers wheelbarrow through the speckled glass of your kitchen window, held by rotting wood. Empty and unmoved, his tools lay flat on the ground, untouched since the day before. You could have sworn he told you he’d be at the market by dawn.

Scanning the room, your eyes flicked to the doorway where your mothers workbag lay untouched. Needles sat poked in balls of yarn as stray thread sprawled over leather - but an eery stillness sang to you at your parent’s tools.

Names and calls went unanswered, and after a quick search of the home you ran outside, urgent to ask your neighbours where they had gone, your heart fastening with every step.

Too frantic to observe the lack of movement and noise from your own street, you rapped on the door, waiting only a few seconds to push the rattling screen and forcing your way in.

Names went unanswered again, and it was instinct that steered you straight for the nursery. You halted at the sight of new born's empty crib, blankets rippled as if the babe was taken straight from it’s sleep.

Your calls turned frantic as you scoured each room, an upsetting, looming sensation creeping over your skin.

Bursting from the home, you shielded your eyes from the bright sun as you scanned the street with urgency. Your only greeting was a quiet breeze and snort of a horse left abandoned by a cart - as if it had stopped it's journey halfway through.

In a panicked haze, you searched the next home, and the next, and the next. The dizziness found you then.

Clearly there was an emergency of some kind. But you had been abandoned, left to sleep until midday amongst the quiet. The thought pained you.

More calls to anyone who might have stayed behind, yet still no answer. Your heart was a thunder in your ears.

Had the war finally reached you? Had your family fled in the dead of the night? You shook the thought from your head – they would have woken you, would have needed your help to escape with the youngens.

And then you were running – yelling, sprinting through the dusty streets, voice breaking as you dashed from home to home, shop to shop, calling, crying, pleading.

You were utterly alone. You had been left there, alone.

In a swarm of panic, you pressed a palm at your heart, willing yourself to calm. It was a dream, surely. You were not abandoned, only stuck in a nightmare, the kind that often found you as murmurs of Hybern’s army reaching human lands became louder.

In that dizzying thought, you willed yourself awake, forcing your eyes open to the walls of your dark and cramped room, to the noises as your siblings shouting and playing from downstairs, to the whistle of the kettle and the creak of the wood as your father came to wake you.

But the light was blinding, the sun as true as the your abandonment.

Beads of sweat that ran down your neck, a gnawing anxiousness building in your stomach as it heaved and cramped, nausea and panic churning to one.

Something truly terrible had happened.

And in that moment of utter disbelief, a stabbing pain ripped from your stomach, so great it forced a whimper from your throat.

As silent trickles of blood ran from your thighs to your knees, tracing your calves beneath the fabric of your skirt, you found a numbing sort of courage. Pushing your legs forward, you mindlessly heeded the road out of your home town, and on to the next.

People. You needed to find people.

————

Ten days, and still not a single sole in sight. Each home, each tavern, each market and farm left eerily untouched.

The silence was enough to drive you mad, if not besides the aide you so desperately sought. This was not your cycle - although the pains were familiar. You had known what you were, what this was.

Almost a fortnight, yet the blood still came. Slower now, spotting instead of trickles. You had stolen clothing from abandoned shops, food and water too. But you were distraught, moments away from folding into utter madness. And you were weak – very, very weak.

Water, food, a bath and rest. A list you repeated to yourself, your body begging to prioritise sleep with every step as you approached a farm at the town’s edge.

With a weak hand, you pushed past the gate to the yard, large rusty barrels sat open where a cow and her calf now drank. The water was murky with a distinct smell, but it would have to do. Tomorrow, you’d find fresh water tomorrow.

The trembling hand that dipped to the cool water hardly looked like your own. Dirt lay thick under your nails, your skin littered with cuts from the countless times you had shattered windows of stores and traders homes, scouring the stock for preserved goods and weapons.

Bringing the cool liquid to your lips, you ignored the taste of iron as you willed it to soothe your throat - hoarse from the endless calls that went unanswered.

Ears pricking at sudden growl behind you, you jerked at the site of a pack of dogs who approached on stealthy paws. Their eyes were hungry - flicking between you and the calf. Once loyal farming dogs you were sure, now abandoned by owners and left to fend for themselves. They had formed packs - clever things. While you were sure they couldn't kill you, you didn't have the strength to fight an infection if they got close enough to sink their teeth.

From your side, you unsheathed the hunting knife you had looted from a previous town. Swinging it with unpracticed skill, you shouted at the pack, your heart thundering as you waited for them to recline on hindered paws and leap.

They pack seemed to weigh you up, deciding the calf was an easier target. You fled inside the house before you could see it meet it’s end.

The home was neat, and you almost cried at the sight of a loaf of bread sitting atop the kitchen counters. Mould had attacked it’s edges, but you tore at it, fisting mouthfuls of the centre, dry crumbs coating your throat it was an effort not to choke.

Your stomach lurched, unhappy with the quality of the food and water, but you didn't care. You were on step closer to rest.

Another jarring cramp from your stomach, and you faltered, gripping at the wooden table as you trembled to keep yourself upright. This ailment, how much longer would you last? Sleep begged at you, your body moments from giving out. You’d have to forgo the bath, and prayed to the mother you’d find the strength for it in the morning.

Forcing yourself to the bedroom, swaying with each stumbled step, consciousness was already slipping as you collapsed on the bed, clothes and boots in tact.

————

It was a feverish sleep, your body doused in sweat as you stirred often, jolting awake in panics, phantom calls of your family mixed with the flap of wings, and the crunch of stone and rock under heavy boots.

Then a voice, voices – ones you were sure they were part of your slumber.

But as those footsteps got closer, you woke in a startle, your heart fastened as you blinked furiously.

Voices. Humans. People. Alive, well enough to talk.

You leapt from the bed, ignoring the spin of your head as you clambered to the window, peering behind sheer drapes to the street in front.

Your stomach sank. Lurched. Then sank again.

A large, demonic figure stalked for the home. Wings arched behind it’s head, it’s figure blackened by the leathers it bore, sword and knives strapped around.

And, wisps of some kind. Deadly, reaping magic.

Fae.

Fae had come.

Knees buckling, you stumbled back a few steps.

The world around you reeled as adrenaline coursed through. You would have just moments to prepare if you wanted a chance to survive.

Knife. Your hunting knife. Still strewn at your hip.

Grasping it’s hilt tightly with a trembling hand, you scanned the room for the best place to hide.

The cupboard was too obvious, and there was room under the bed - but there’d be not enough to swing your knife, only enough for them to drag you by the ankle…

The gentle click of the front door opening, and it took all you had not to whimper in panic.

Scrambling for the door as quietly as possible, you pressed your palm to your mouth, begging yourself not to cry as you pressed yourself behind the wood.

From what you could hear over the thunder of your heart, the steps of the fae were quiet despite it’s size.

“Anything in there?” a deep voice boomed from the street. You jolted at the volume. More than one, then.

There was no reply from the creature in the home, only the creak of the wood as it made it’s way through.

“Really, Azriel? Are we to check every home?” Female this time, impatience and ignorance laced in the somehow ancient voice.

No response again, instead a footstep, right by the door.

Something tickled your ankles then, and it was beyond you to stifle your compulsive scream.

Black furling wisps coated your boots.

And then the door opened.

The creature made it one step inside before you had aimed your knife for it’s heart.

A prepared, cool hand caught your wrist inches from it’s chest. Your bones crushing in it’s grasp, and you let out a yelp of pain.

It’s face - his face - was one of shock. “S-sorry,” he stuttered, dropping his grip all together.

You blinked back in shock, ignoring at the throb of your wrist as you snatched it back.

For a dumb moment, you stared at each other with equally wide eyes. The male didn't seem to know what to do.

“You’re human? How are you here, where-?"

The males sentence was clipped short as you drove the knife towards his chest again.

Quick as an asp, he caught you by the forearm this time, more gently too.

Hazel eyes scanned you, his features schooling as he called over his shoulder. “I’ve found someone.”

You were sure you looked mad, grunting with the effort to pull your arm from him, breaths ragged, eyes and hair wild. The male studied you as he might a rabid animal.

Behind him appeared an even taller male, his form more terrifying than the one that gripped you.

“Mother above,” the new one whispered, scanning you in the way the first one had.

“L-let go of me,” you rasped, pulling your arm back, tears stinging at the pain of you surely broken wrist began to swell.

It was a odd detail to note, the scars and ripples of the fae’s hand as he gently unfurled your fingers, prying the hunting knife from you before releasing his grip.

“Let me see,” the female’s voice piped from behind, the males struggling to fold their wings further, cramming into the room to let her through.

You faltered back on instinct, legs hitting the edge of the bed.

As the female broke through the males, harsh silver eyes scanned you up and down. She was half their height, a little shorter than you actually, but the depth of her gaze kept your hands by your side.

“Seems the Mother has spared one after all,” she muttered, nose crumpling at your scent.

Your answered with a scowl.

“What is your name?” it demanded.

“Amren,” the taller male warned, his eyes flicking back to you with softness.

You refused to answer. Couldn’t if you wanted to.

Amren sighed, casting her head sideways to the one with rippled hands. “She bleeds.”

“I know,” he answered, hazel eyes not breaking from you. You blushed, furious and humiliated.

He stepped around her then, the movement graceful and soft despite his size.

“You need aide.”

You gulped, unable to process his words. “L-leave me be,” you demanded, voice hoarse as you tried to create more distance between you and it.

He crouched in front of you then, leathers stretching against ripples of muscle. You noticed them then, jewels, saphires, humming from his body as if they were alive.

He followed your eyes curiously, before answering you with a soft smile.

“These are siphons,” he said plainly, giving one a friendly tap.

You snapped your eyes back to him, disgust forming your features. “You are here on behalf of Hybern?”

The female snorted from behind, earning a shove from the larger male beside her, his siphons glowing red.

The one in front of you studied you. “No, absolutely not.”

You scowled, not inclined to believe them.

“We come one behalf of our High Lord Rhysand, and High Lady Feyre. Rulers of the Night Court. Do you know of them?”

Feyre - the human women who had freed the fae from the grasp of their enemy. You knew the story, the heroic tale of a human women who gave her life for the male she loved. Had heard of her triumphs Under the Mountain, that she had been made into fae herself in exchange for her sacrifice.

“The-the curse breaker?”

A small smile cocked on both of the males faces.

“That’s right,” the one crouched in front answered. “She sent us to retrieve you.”

A panic surged within you. “Me?” you spat. Oh the ignorance of the fae, as if you were some pawn to pluck and place elsewhere.

Azriel frowned, eyes dancing as he realised the mistake in his words. “To help you, of course. There has been-"

"No-n-no. My family, they will seek for me-"

Azriel's brow pulled with softness, his tone falling flat. "We will search for them. Meanwhile, you must see a-"

“Where are the others?” Your voice was louder now, eyes dancing in panic, chest rising with fastening breaths. Had they taken them too? “The people, they've left, I don't know-"

“We are searching for others. You are… the first we have found.”

Your mind reeled. How could that be? You had searched by foot - but with those wings, and the strength and power of fae…

“WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO THE OTHER HUMANS?” the volume of your voice shocked even yourself, that strength, that demand from deep within your chest.

Azriel gave you a pained look, before standing to turn to his counterparts. “Amren, can you heal-?”

“I’m spent,” she cut off the male with a flick of her fingers. “Those canines out back were hardly enough to keep me going until sundown, so forget about healing. Unless you suggest I drink her blood, though I doubt she’d survive.”

Mother above.

You were too hazed to see the glare both of the males cut her.

“Then she will need to see a healer before we can continue.”

“She might refuse,” the larger one countered.

“If she’s smart, she won’t. She won't survive out here on her own,” Amren muttered, cleaning her nails as she leaned one on leg, checking her cat-like claws for flecks of blood.

They continued their mutter without once turning to you.

“There is no option here. I’ll take her to Velaris, and return once she’s safe.”

A shaking, blubbering anger grew within you, the creatures in front of you as ignorant and obnoxious as you had always been told fae are – to discuss your own fate as if you weren't in the room.

A killer instinct flared in you then, and you remembered the second knife you bore, hidden within your corsette. A pocket knife, a tool from your father to help pit and peel the fruit from his farm.

The oak handle was cool in your left hand, the right throbbing and limp. With the last remains of energy, you pushed up from the bed, swinging with all your strength - aiming for the blue-siphoned back.

In a graceful turn, the male caught your arm for the third time. You had to blink at the speed with which he stopped you.

Bracing for cruel, unforgiving anger, you were instead met with sympathetic eyes.

Loathing coiled within you.

“Release me,” you spat.

“I’m sorry to do this,” was all he said, and then pads of those rippled fingers were grasping your jaw, pressing to the pressure points of your neck with precision.

Grunting to fight his grasp, you didn’t struggle long before a ringing in your ear grew to defeating silence and the world tipped to black.

Part 2 >>> AN: HELLLOOO! And welcome to ATTWN - massive shout out to @kindasleepywriter for finding the perfect name for this series! I so so hoped you liked part 1. I edited it like a million times, still not 100% happy with it, but I think I just needed to get it out. Fair warning - this fic won't be light hearted, our reader is going to go through some really heavy stuff. I'll of course put my warnings ahead of each part, but please know I plan to explore some darker themes surrounding mental health etc. If you'd like to join the tag list for this fic, let me know in the comments! Always love hearing your feedback, and thank you so much for reading! <3 Nic

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slytherintrikru · 1 year ago

Text

— || Revenge is Sweet || —

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy x gryffindor!muggleborn!reader (SHE’S OF AGE)

Word count: 6224

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 16+, fingering, clit rubbing, cock in Vigina, male and female, adult content, adult language, cuss words, clit licking, degrading, fluff if you squint, pet names, anguish, cheating, heartbreak, revenge, crying, Lucius comforting Y/N?, aftercare, praise, daddy kink, cum swallowing, fluff, out of character Lucius, 2 almost 3 years after the 2nd wizarding war, younger woman with older man, first time together, heated make out session, kissing, hickeys, love bites, SFW if you squint. (SHE IS OF AGE)

Summary: Y/N wanted to surprise Draco by visiting him at the Malfoy Manor but ended up catching him cheating instead. While leaving she bumps into Lucius Malfoy and things get kinda heated. (SHE’S OF AGE)

Requested: by no one this is my idea

A/N: Hello, my fellow Dreamers, hope you like this. Please give me your feedback. BTW I also already posted this on my AO3 account @ slytherintrikru.

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Y/N navigated her way up the meandering, earthy path that led to the formidable gates of the Malfoy Manor. These gates, a grand testament to the opulence within, were adorned with wrought-iron craftsmanship that gleamed even in the muted light of dusk. Beyond the gates, a long, majestic driveway, flanked by a procession of ancient trees, guided her toward the mansion's imposing facade. Standing before her, the Malfoy Manor exuded an aura of architectural splendor. Its stately stone walls rose gracefully, adorned with intricate details that whispered of centuries past. Tall, narrow windows punctuated the facade, their panes seeming to conceal secrets within, bestowing upon the house an air of sinister allure.

The estate on which the manor resided was vast and mysterious. A dark forest encroached upon the edges of the property, casting eerie shadows that played hide-and-seek with the waning daylight. In stark contrast to this enigmatic woodland, a lush and meticulously cultivated garden graced the manor's rear, a testament to the Malfoy family's penchant for grandeur and elegance.

With each deliberate step, Y/N's heartbeat quickened. Her trembling hand reached out to rap upon the massive, wooden double doors that guarded the entrance. She couldn't have fathomed that she would ever find herself returning to this nightmarish place, where the echoes of her torment at the hands of Voldemort and his fanatical followers still reverberated in the depths of her memory. It had been two agonizing years since that fateful day when Fenrir Greyback had dragged her through those very doors, her hair pulled viciously as she struggled to match the monstrous pace set by her captor. The same mansion had borne witness to her harrowing encounter with the Dark Lord himself, the malevolent figure who had imprinted the dreaded Death Eater mark upon her left arm—a mark she had desperately sought to eradicate for almost three long years.

The reason for her presence here, despite the haunting memories, was her enduring love for Draco. Three years had passed since the inception of their clandestine relationship, but their bond remained unshaken. Draco's parents, however, were a formidable obstacle in their path. They looked down upon her as a 'filthy Mudblood,' a fact that had never deterred her resolve, so long as Draco stood by her side. Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy had resorted to devious tactics, attempting to buy her loyalty, attempting to pry her away from their son. Their efforts had met with stubborn resistance, leaving them fuming with frustration. On countless occasions, they subjected her to scathing tirades, especially Narcissa, whose cruelty knew no bounds. After a week, Lucius resigned to a sullen silence, but Narcissa's venomous words and occasionally physical aggression persisted as a daily ordeal that Y/N endured with steely determination.

Y/N flinched as the manor door creaked open, her reaction akin to that of someone stumbling into a jinx. Her startled gaze dropped to the floor, where a familiar figure stood. It was Rue, the endearing house elf, a cherished presence in Y/N's life.

"What can Rue do for Draco's lovely girlfriend?" Rue inquired, her lips curving into a warm, welcoming smile.

Y/N couldn't help but smile in return; Rue had always held a special place in her heart. With her bright blue eyes and those endearing pointy ears, Rue exuded an unmistakable charm. Not only did she anticipate Y/N's every need, but she also prepared food and drinks precisely to Y/N's liking. Since the law against elf brutality had been enacted, Y/N had taken it upon herself to ensure Rue's comfort, providing her with clothing. Over the months, Rue had transformed, shedding the weight of servitude to become a happier, more carefree presence.

"I'd like to see Draco, please, Rue," Y/N replied, her voice gentle and careful not to startle the petite house elf.

Rue's smile widened, and with a tiny, reassuring grip on Y/N's hand, she led her inside. As the door closed softly behind them, Rue spoke again, her voice filled with an eagerness to assist. "Master Draco is in his room. Rue will take you."

Y/N hesitated for a moment, a playful idea forming in her mind. "No, no, it's fine. I can go myself. I want to surprise him."

The adorable house elf nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. With a snap of her fingers, she vanished from sight, leaving Y/N to navigate the winding corridors of the Malfoy Manor alone.

Y/N couldn't help but grin at the thought of Rue experiencing a moment of personal indulgence, wondering if the house elf was trying to savor the pleasures she had missed in her life of servitude. With that pleasant thought, Y/N embarked on her ascent up the many flights of wooden stairs that led to the upper reaches of the manor. Her footsteps echoed softly through the hallway as she made her way toward Draco's room.

As she arrived at her destination, Y/N came to an abrupt halt, her senses keenly attuned to an unexpected sound emanating from behind Draco's door. She strained her ears, desperately hoping it wasn't a case of accidentally stumbling upon an intimate moment between Lucius and Narcissa. A glance at the door's label confirmed it was indeed Draco's room, and then she heard it again.

Moans.

Specifically, the unmistakable sounds of male and female moans. Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she leaned closer to the door, attempting to confirm what she dreaded most. She heard his name, Draco's name, whimpered from a female voice within, a voice that sent shockwaves through her.

Her blood ran cold, her heart rate spiked, and tears welled up in her eyes. Y/N prayed it wasn't true, that Draco wasn't betraying her. She cautiously pushed the door open, her movements silent as she observed the heart-wrenching scene before her. Draco, lost in passion, buried his face in Astoria Greengrass's neck, his vigorous thrusts filling the room.

Their eyes met, Y/N's and Astoria's, in a moment of cruel recognition. Astoria's smirk seemed to taunt Y/N, as if declaring, 'He's mine now, you filthy Mudblood.' With a heavy heart, Y/N gently closed the door, tears streaming down her face. She turned and fled down the hallway, down the stairs, without a care for her surroundings or the possibility of colliding with someone.

Tears flowed freely as Y/N reached the bottom of the stairs, her heart shattering into a million pieces. Her cries escaped in a heartbreaking crescendo, echoing through the manor's grandeur. In her distraught state, she collided with an unexpected presence, teetering dangerously on the brink of falling backward. However, strong arms enveloped her, steadying her in her moment of despair.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing, girl?" The voice, dripping with disdain, hissed through the tense air. Y/N's heart lurched at the sound, her gut telling her it was all too familiar. As her tear-blurred gaze lifted, she was met with the sight of a thoroughly baffled and irate Lucius Malfoy, his aristocratic features etched with a mix of anger and confusion. Her own expressive eyes, a mesmerizing shade of E/C, locked onto his cold, steely gray ones.

Blinking away the tears that blurred her vision, she stared at the formidable pureblood wizard who stood before her. Their eye contact held an unspoken tension, a connection fraught with history and complex emotions. It was in that moment that Y/N noticed something she hadn't expected in Lucius – concern. The realization was like a jolt, sending a shiver down her spine.

Concern?

It couldn't be right, could it? Why on earth would Lucius Malfoy, of all people, be concerned about her well-being? Y/N hesitated, her hand instinctively rising to wipe her eyes once more, as if questioning her own senses, wondering if her eyes were playing tricks on her. But the look in Lucius's eyes remained, a glimmer of unexpected humanity in the formidable man who had long been an enigma to her.

"Are you going to speak, or just stand there like a dumb-witted Mudblood?" Lucius's words, laced with venom, cut through the heavy silence. Y/N turned away from him, hurt etched in her eyes, his cruel words piercing her heart. In that moment, the gap between them seemed insurmountable.

Lucius, however, couldn't ignore the pain he had inadvertently caused, and for a fleeting second, remorse tugged at his conscience. Yet, his pride prevailed, and instead of apologizing, he pressed further, his tone demanding answers. "What's wrong with you, girl?"

Y/N pulled herself away from him, a mixture of emotions welling up inside her. She hesitated for a moment, then her voice trembled as she questioned him, "W-Why do y-you care?"

The unexpected vulnerability in her voice caught Lucius off guard, and a flicker of something uncharacteristic passed through his stormy gray eyes. He blocked her path as she attempted to move past him, their proximity intensifying the tension between them. "Just because we got off to the wrong foot when we first met doesn't mean I'm the same person I was before," he hissed, a rare hint of vulnerability seeping into his words. "Now tell me what's wrong, or I'll use Legilimency on you."

Her defenses crumbling, Y/N couldn't hold back the flood of emotion any longer. The words tumbled out of her, her voice wavering as she confessed, "Your son cheated on me with Astoria, that's what happened." She glanced away, bracing herself for the judgment she anticipated. "You're probably happy that he's not with a filthy Mudblood like me anymore. I'll just—"

"He did what?!" Lucius's voice reverberated through the manor, his anger palpable as it resounded against the walls. Y/N glanced at him, a puzzled expression on her face. She couldn't comprehend why he would be so furious that his son, Draco, had cheated on her—a Mudblood—with a pureblood. Lucius Malfoy had never harbored any warmth toward Y/N, so this sudden outburst was baffling. She had always assumed that Draco's parents would be delighted if something like this were to happen.

Lucius's voice, filled with indignation, interrupted her thoughts once more. "How dare that boy break someone's heart instead of just telling you that he wants to end the relationship. I raised him to treat women with respect. Even if the girl is a filthy Mudblood!"

Y/N frowned, her gaze drifting downward to her feet, unable to meet Lucius's eyes. His words were laden with a complex mixture of anger, disappointment, and something she couldn't quite fathom.

"Why would you care anyway? You should be happy that he cheated on me. Now he can go marry a pureblood who's more beautiful than me," she muttered bitterly, her self-esteem shattered.

In an unexpected turn of events, the cold metal of the snake handle of Lucius's cane lifted her chin. She blinked in surprise as he swiftly pulled his cane away and grasped her chin roughly with his hand, forcing her to hold eye contact with him.

"Don't ever say those words again. Am. I. Understand, Y/N?" Lucius's voice, though stern, held a strange mixture of concern. She nodded in response, but it seemed that wasn't sufficient for him. He demanded more. "I expect you to answer when I ask you something!"

"Y-Yes, Sir!" she squeaked, her gaze locked onto his features. She couldn't help but notice the commanding presence he exuded, the sharp lines of his jaw, the strength evident in his angular face. His long, platinum blonde hair cascaded gracefully past his shoulders, framing his striking countenance. The blueish-gray eyes that held an air of authority seemed to peer directly into her soul. Y/N's cheeks flushed inexplicably as she found herself momentarily entranced by his striking appearance. ‘He's handsome’, she thought, a realization that seemed to take her by surprise.

Y/N's unspoken admiration for Lucius had been a well-guarded secret, a silent confession her heart made each time she crossed the threshold of the Malfoy Manor. Her heart would do a subtle dance of anticipation whenever she knew she'd encounter him, and a flush would steal across her cheeks, like a clandestine tribute to his striking presence. It was an irrational reaction, one she couldn't quite understand, given that Lucius had never hidden his disdain for her—well, at least, he hadn't before.

Lucius's trademark smirk played on his lips, but there was a curious shift in his demeanor. Gone was the initial cockiness, replaced by genuine amusement as he surveyed Y/N's puzzled expression. Her blush intensified, a shade that rivaled the crimson and gold of the Gryffindor house colors.

"You really think I'm handsome?" he probed, his tone now laced with curiosity. He leaned in closer, the proximity between them causing a subtle flutter in Y/N's heart. Lucius's eyes sparkled with a newfound charm as he awaited her response.

"I—what? I didn't—" she stammered, but her words were abruptly silenced.

"Legilimens, my darling girl," Lucius smoothly interrupted. His smirk remained, but it was tinged with a magnetic confidence that left her feeling exposed. He leaned even closer, his lips brushing against her ear, and he whispered softly, his voice a provocative caress, "Ah, yes. It appears you've conveniently forgotten that I possess the ability to delve into your mind. You see, I heard every thought you've had about me. Like your secret desire for me to pin you down on my bed, to make you forget how to walk."

Y/N's eyes widened, her cheeks aflame with embarrassment. Her heart raced, and she felt a shiver of vulnerability wash over her. Lucius's audacious revelation had unraveled a new layer of intrigue and desire, transforming their dynamic into something far more intricate and captivating.

She gasped, disbelief coursing through her. Could he truly have been privy to her every innermost thought? It felt surreal, like a dream she was unable to awaken from. In an attempt to regain her composure, she instinctively retreated a step, allowing her gaze to lock with his. His eyes held the same intense emotion she had noticed earlier – a smoldering, undeniable lust that sent a tingle down her spine. He leaned closer, his body almost brushing against hers, and she could feel the heat radiating from him.

"That's the very reason I've maintained my distance from you all these months," he admitted, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability beneath its low, seductive tone. "After my ex-wife and I discovered the truth about you and my son's relationship, I tried to keep my demeanor cold. Yet every night, unable to control my desires, I found myself lost in fantasies of you," he confessed, his words a hushed, intimate secret shared between them.

A blush painted her cheeks once more as his voice whispered sensually into her ear, sending shivers coursing down her spine. His hands found their way to her sides, exerting a gentle, yet possessive squeeze. She couldn't help but shudder at his touch.

"My son is a fool for betraying such a beautiful, enchanting nymph like you," he purred, his lips grazing the tender skin just below her earlobe. His kisses left a fiery trail down her neck, only to ascend slowly back towards her lips. When their mouths met, it was as though a swarm of butterflies took flight in her stomach, fluttering wildly. She didn't respond immediately, her brain struggling to catch up with the whirlwind of sensations. Gradually, she inhaled his intoxicating scent, responding to his kisses with a growing hunger of her own.

Y/N's moans of desire seemed to echo within the cavernous expanse of Lucius's opulent mansion. Every step she took away from the memory of Draco's betrayal and closer to Lucius felt like a transgressive leap into the unknown. The kiss, fueled by a volatile mix of guilt and longing, deepened with each passing second. It was a magnetic force pulling them closer together, their lips becoming the epicenter of their shared need.

Her fingers wove themselves deeper into Lucius's long, platinum blonde hair, the strands silky and cool to the touch. He couldn't help but groan in response, the sound a testament to the intensity of their connection. His powerful hands, previously residing at her sides, ventured boldly downward, reaching her shapely derrière. With a delicate yet firm touch, he squeezed, sending exhilarating waves of sensation through her body.

With a sudden surge of passion, Lucius lifted Y/N off her feet, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to maintain their electrifying kiss. The sensation of being carried by him, the firmness of his grip, and the heat of his body against hers were intoxicating. They ascended the grand staircase, their rhythmic ascent echoing through the mansion's ornate halls.

As they turned down the dimly lit hallway, the portraits of stern-faced ancestors bore witness to their clandestine rendezvous. The anticipation was palpable, each step a deliberate stride toward the unknown. The soft glow of moonlight spilled through heavy, brocade curtains, casting intricate patterns on the Persian rugs that lined the floor.

With an audacious display of strength and desire, Lucius kicked open the door to his lavishly appointed bedroom. The door swung wide with a creak, revealing a chamber bathed in shadows. The grandeur of the room was nothing short of breathtaking, with its sumptuous canopy bed, antique furnishings, and gilded accents. The room exuded an air of timeless elegance, a stark contrast to the illicit passion that had led them there. Yet, with another commanding kick, he shut the door behind them, sealing their secret within the confines of the room's opulent embrace.

In the opulent chamber, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtered through heavy curtains, he guided her towards his bed with a gentleness that belied the intense desire simmering between them. The sumptuous sheets, adorned with intricate patterns, awaited their embrace, a testament to the luxury that surrounded them. With a feather-light touch, he laid her down, the mattress conforming to the curves of her body like a lover's caress.

Desire surged between them, an irresistible force pulling them closer together. She eagerly wound her legs around him, her longing palpable. A deep, resonant chuckle rumbled from his chest, a seductive reverberation that filled the room. It was a sound that resonated with promise, the promise of what was to come.

His lips embarked on a slow descent down the delicate curve of her neck, leaving a trail of searing kisses in their wake. His teeth grazed her skin, eliciting sharp gasps and urgent moans from her trembling lips. Y/N's moans danced in harmony with the hushed symphony of their passion, their clandestine desires woven into every sound.

With a masterful touch, his hands began their sensual exploration, fingers tracing the contours of her body. He reached for the fabric of her shirt, the anticipation of their impending intimacy electrifying the air. But as he made to unveil her, he paused, gazing into her eyes with a mixture of tenderness and raw desire. His voice, a sultry whisper, hung in the air like an unspoken invitation, "Do you want to continue this?"

Her heart swelled with a heady blend of love and desire at his considerate question. It wasn't just about the act itself; it was about the connection they shared, the intimacy that extended beyond the physical. Her eyes met his, and she nodded in fervent agreement, but his gaze turned insistent, demanding more than a mere gesture.

She acquiesced, her voice a soft, breathless confession. "Yes, I want to continue."

With the patience of a man intoxicated by her presence, he lifted her shirt, revealing her in all her vulnerability and desire. Each moment was a deliberate act of unveiling, an exploration of the secrets they had kept hidden for too long. Her whimpers of longing grew more pronounced, a sweet symphony of passion that ignited the room.

Their discarded shirts lay scattered, forgotten remnants of the world they had left behind. Their lips collided once more, a fervent clash of desires. His hands, strong and gentle, cradled her face, deepening the kiss into a consuming blaze of longing. In this stolen moment, their connection transcended the physical, binding them together in a fiery embrace that defied the boundaries of reason and restraint.

In the cocoon of their desires, time seemed to slow, allowing them to savor every tantalizing moment. The room, adorned with rich, heavy curtains that filtered the moon's soft glow, bathed them in an otherworldly ambiance. They paused briefly to remove the remaining garments that clung to their heated bodies, leaving a trail of discarded clothing scattered haphazardly across the floor.

With a profound longing etched upon their faces, they surrendered to the pull of their desires. He took the initiative, his lips blazing a path of fiery kisses down her form. Every inch of her skin he touched seemed to ignite with desire, his teeth delicately grazing, and his mouth fervently claiming her.

One of his hands, large and commanding, found its place on her breast, the fingers expertly working her sensitive flesh. The other sought solace on her hip, the grip possessive yet tender. Y/N's response was immediate, her back arching sensually as she pressed herself closer to him. The room bore witness to her unrestrained passion, shadows playing tricks on their entangled figures.

The dimly lit room provided an intimate backdrop to their stolen moment, amplifying the intensity of their connection. She gasped, unable to stifle the whirlwind of sensations coursing through her body. Her longing and need reached a fevered pitch as his lips moved relentlessly over her skin.

This sensation was unlike anything she had ever encountered, not even with Draco. It was a heady concoction of raw desire and an emotional connection that left her feeling utterly exposed and vulnerable, yet simultaneously empowered and alive.

His lips reluctantly abandoned her chest, tracing a searing path downward, inching closer to the epicenter of her desire. Her hips reacted instinctively, a silent plea for more, a plea for him to satiate the burgeoning hunger that consumed her. In response, he chuckled darkly, a knowing grin playing upon his lips.

"So, so greedy for me, aren't you?" he purred, his voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down her spine. "I've barely even started, my little nymph, and you're already squirming."

Her moans grew in volume, punctuating the charged atmosphere. Her hips continued their rhythmic dance, a wordless invitation for him to delve deeper into her desires. Just as hope began to wane, he boldly ventured between her legs. His thumb found her eager clit, tracing slow, electrifying circles that sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body. She couldn't help but gasp loudly, her moans intensifying as her body surrendered to his skillful touch.

“L-Lucius!” Y/N's fervent whimper hung in the air, a plea for more that only fueled Lucius's desire to push her further into the depths of pleasure. He reveled in the sound, a wicked grin playing upon his lips as he continued to work his magic. His fingers, slick with her arousal, glided effortlessly inside her, seeking out her g-spot with uncanny precision. The sensation of his touch sent electric jolts of pleasure coursing through her, her moans becoming a chorus of surrender.

The room seemed to close in around them, the ambiance heavy with the heady scent of their desire. Shadows danced seductively across the walls, an intimate audience to their clandestine tryst. Every subtle movement, every trembling breath, was magnified in the dim light, intensifying the eroticism of the moment.

Lucius's voice, a velvet caress of dominance, lured her deeper into submission. "That's right, my little slut," he whispered huskily, his words both an affirmation and a command. "Feel how good I'm making you. Did he ever make you feel like this? Did he know all the right spots to please you?"

She struggled to form coherent words, the pleasure he evoked rendering her speechless. Her response was a breathless admission of truth, punctuated by her moans of ecstasy. "N-No... aahh-"

Lucius's eyes bore into her with an intensity that left her feeling exposed and vulnerable, yet utterly consumed by desire. His fingers continued their relentless assault on her g-spot, her body quivering in response. Her pussy clenched around him, a physical manifestation of her escalating pleasure, and he couldn't help but grunt with satisfaction.

"My little slut," he growled, his voice dripping with unrestrained lust, "you've never felt this kind of pleasure before, have you? Well, let's make sure you're fully satisfied, my dear."

With each word, he propelled her further into the abyss of desire, his fingers dancing with a masterful touch that promised to fulfill her every longing. In the dimly lit room, their forbidden encounter continued, a symphony of passion and submission that echoed through the night.

Lucius's descent towards her quivering core was an agonizingly slow and tantalizing journey. His head moved lower, inch by tantalizing inch, until his mouth hovered just above her dripping wet pussy. The room, bathed in the soft, dim light of concealed passion, seemed to hold its breath in anticipation of the forbidden act about to unfold.

Y/N's body was a live wire, tingling with desire as his warm breath caressed her sensitive flesh. Her back arched in a primal response, a silent plea for him to continue, to grant her the pleasure she craved. The air was thick with tension, the electrifying atmosphere heightened by the palpable anticipation of what was to come.

With a deliberate, torturous slowness, his tongue made its first sensuous contact with her throbbing clit. Y/N's response was immediate and intense; she arched her back, a breathless gasp escaping her lips. Waves of desire surged through her, her hips rising to meet his mouth in a fervent demand for more. His tongue traced lazy circles around her clit, each pass a teasing caress that left her trembling with need.

Her hips moved in rhythmic desperation, bucking into his mouth as she sought to intensify the pleasure. Lucius, the master of seduction, had her in a hypnotic trance, his tongue shifting tactics to move from side to side, skillfully exploring every sensitive inch of her. He returned to her clit, sucking with a purposeful hunger that sent shivers coursing through her body. Her moans grew in intensity, a symphony of ecstasy that filled the room.

As if orchestrating a symphony of pleasure, his fingers joined the sensual dance, slick with her arousal. They thrust in and out with a relentless rhythm, each penetration hitting her g-spot with pinpoint accuracy. Y/N's body was a trembling instrument of desire, her moans and whimpers filling the room like a seductive melody.

A familiar sensation began to coil within her abdomen, growing in intensity with each tantalizing moment. Her pussy clenched around his fingers as the waves of pleasure overtook her. With a gasp that shattered the air, she climaxed, her body trembling in the throes of ecstasy.

Lucius's voice, thick with desire and dominance, broke through her post-orgasmic haze. "Good girl, my good girl," he murmured, his words both a praise and a command. Her cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and satisfaction. He withdrew his hand from her quivering pussy, his fingers glistening with her essence. With forceful insistence, he grasped her jaw, parting her lips and presenting his cum-covered fingers to her mouth. "Taste yourself, whore!" he demanded, his voice a potent blend of authority and lust, igniting a primal hunger within her.

The room, cloaked in shadows, seemed to hold its breath as Y/N's lips encircled Lucius's fingers, moving with an almost hypnotic rhythm as she licked and sucked them clean. Her tongue, eager and tantalizing, left no trace of her essence behind, and Lucius watched her with a predatory hunger that mirrored her own desire. With an excruciating slowness, he withdrew his fingers from her mouth, his grip shifting to encircle her delicate throat, a possessive hold that sent a jolt of excitement through her.

A deep, throaty chuckle resonated from Lucius, a dark sound that underscored his mastery over her. It was a symphony of submission, her whimper in response to his control weaving through the charged air. His other hand, which had been on her jaw, descended with purposeful intent to his throbbing cock. With tantalizing deliberation, he began to stroke himself, each languid movement of his hand a seductive overture to the impending climax of their desires.

Y/N grappled with a myriad of emotions. She knew she should be overwhelmed with guilt, entangled in an illicit affair with her ex-boyfriend's father. Yet, beneath the layers of her moral reservations, a burning desire and a thirst for revenge surged within her. She yearned to make her ex-boyfriend pay for his betrayal, to mend her shattered heart by indulging in the very act that had caused her so much pain.

Her internal turmoil was momentarily eclipsed as she felt the firm tip of his cock teasing her wet, throbbing pussy. The exquisite friction sent a shiver of anticipation coursing through her, and her moans and whimpers filled the room like a seductive aria. Her body was a symphony of need, the sultry dance of his cock against her clit driving her to the brink of ecstasy.

Lucius's voice, dripping with dominance and desire, anchored her in the present moment. "My little mudblood," he taunted, his words laden with a derogatory term that should have stung. Instead, the sultry timbre of his voice rendered her helpless, a willing captive to his seduction. "Is this what you've desired all this time? For a real man to fuck you, to slide his cock deep inside you and make you feel good?"

Despite the term, her moans and whimpers betrayed her true desires, her voice trembling with need. "Y-Yes, Daddy," she whimpered, her plea echoing through the room, a fervent entreaty for the fulfillment of her deepest, most forbidden fantasies. “ Please, fuck me!”

"Daddy? Hmm?" Lucius questioned, his voice dripping with irresistible seduction that hung in the air like a sultry promise. A low, dark chuckle followed, resonating with a wicked allure as his eyes sparkled with mischief and a hint of malevolence. It was a look that promised a thrilling journey into forbidden desires, an intoxicating blend of pleasure and danger.

The room, cloaked in shadows and secrecy, bore witness to their clandestine rendezvous—a sensual dance of dominance and submission that unfolded in hushed gasps and fervent touches. Lucius reveled in her surrender, delighting in the way the derogatory term slipped off his tongue, and, to his surprise, she seemed to share in that twisted pleasure. "My little mudblood is filthy, isn't she?" he continued, his words dripping with desire and a touch of cruelty. In their intimate connection, the term had evolved into an oddly cherished secret, symbolizing her eager willingness to plunge into the irresistible depths of their forbidden passions. "I like that."

With deliberate intent, Lucius poised himself at the edge of her ecstasy, the air thick with anticipation. He surged into her abruptly, a powerful thrust that drew an electrified whimper from Y/N. Her body responded instinctively, arching in response to the sudden intrusion, a wordless plea for more. Lucius groaned in satisfaction, luxuriating in the exquisite sensation of her tight, wet heat enveloping him.

"Daddy!" Y/N's moan, fervent and desperate, reverberated through the room, echoing the intensity of her longing and submission.

Lucius wasted no time in unleashing the primal depths of his desire, setting a relentless pace that sent tremors through the bed beneath them. Pleasure and pain intertwined as Y/N's body stretched to accommodate him, her moans and gasps forming a seductive symphony that filled the room. Each powerful thrust propelled her closer to the precipice of ecstasy, the headboard bearing witness to the fervor of their illicit union.

"F-Fuck," Lucius hissed, his voice a symphony of unquenchable desire as he intensified his rhythm. His hips surged against her with unrestrained lust, each collision sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. The room resounded with their shared passion, an intoxicating rhythm that reverberated through the air and ignited an inferno of sensations. “You’re so tight and wet, aaah- I’m going to have so much fun destroying this tight little hole of yours.”

The hand that encircled her throat tightened incrementally, a gesture of dominance that sent a thrill of arousal coursing through Y/N. Her fingers tangled in Lucius's long, platinum blonde hair, tugging gently as she sought to draw him closer. His primal groans and moans in response only served to deepen her desire, each intoxicating sound forging an unbreakable connection between them in the hidden world they had created.

Their moans, like an intricate duet, melded into an intoxicating symphony of desire, echoing through the dimly lit room. With each primal thrust, he plunged deeper and faster into her, igniting a passionate crescendo that left them both gasping for breath. Her heart raced in response to the electrifying pleasure coursing through her veins.

"Lucius—Lucius! Aaaahhh—fuck! Daddy!" Her words, a fervent chant of need and submission, spilled from her lips in breathless abandon. Her hips responded in kind, moving in a seductive rhythm that matched his powerful thrusts, a dance of desire that transcended the bounds of their forbidden liaison.

"So damn good! Aahh—yes! Oh fuck, my little mudblood knows how to please me," he growled with unapologetic desire, his voice a seductive purr that sent shivers cascading down her spine. His hips quickened their relentless pace, pounding into her with an unyielding urgency that caused the bed to groan and creak beneath them, a testament to the fierce intensity of their union. “Tell me how good I’m making you feel, slut!

Her moans swelled, a wild symphony of ecstasy and surrender that reverberated through the room like a siren's call. She clawed at the sheets beneath her, her fingers desperately seeking purchase in the soft fabric as waves of pleasure crashed over her. It was an exquisite torment, a tantalizing whirlwind of sensations that threatened to consume her entirely.

"Daddy, you—ahh—feel so good," she gasped, her voice trembling with a potent mix of longing and desperation. Her nails traced feverish patterns over his heated skin, leaving trails of tingling sensation in their wake. Her silent entreaty was clear: she yearned for him to take her harder, to claim her completely in the tempest of their shared passion. “You make me feel so good! You’re fucking me so much better than him.”

Amid the dimly lit room, their passionate entwining continued, each feverish moment adding a new layer to their shared desire. Lucius, a commanding figure, maintained his relentless thrusts, his dominance evident in every movement. Her fervent responses wove a tapestry of longing and ecstasy, their chemistry igniting the air around them.

"I know, my little nymph," he purred, his voice an intoxicating blend of pleasure and command. His grip on her tightened possessively, fingers leaving tantalizing imprints on her heated skin. "Cum for me, slut. Show me how good I make you feel." His words hung in the air like a seductive spell, sending electrifying shivers throughout her body.

With each powerful thrust, the tip of his cock skillfully teased her cervix, intensifying the delicious ache in the pit of her stomach. Their bodies moved in perfect unison, a dance that seemed to transcend the boundaries of time and reason, an intricate symphony of passion that left them breathless.

Lucius, releasing his hold on her throat, replaced it with his mouth, his lips and teeth marking her skin as he continued to slam into her with primal urgency. Love bites and passionate kisses adorned her flesh, evidence of their unrestrained fervor. They moved together, bodies melding into one, a force of nature that defied control. In a rapturous climax, they reached the pinnacle of their desire, their voices rising in unison, filling the room with their unrestrained passion.

As Lucius withdrew from her, a plaintive whimper escaped her lips, a testament to the aching desire that still clung to her. His triumphant smirk hinted at the pleasure he derived from her desperate longing. As he made his way to the bathroom to cleanse himself, her eyes remained fixed on the vacant space he had occupied, her body still tingling with the fading echoes of their intense union.

Upon his return, a damp cloth in hand, he approached her with eyes that held both tenderness and desire. Every stroke of the cloth was a gentle caress, an unspoken declaration of their strange intimacy. The discarded rag landed carelessly beside them, a forgotten relic of their fervent encounter.

"Go to sleep, my little nymph," he whispered, his arms enveloping her in a protective embrace. "I'll be here when you wake." His words were a soothing promise, lulling her into a cocoon of security and contentment that belied the complexity of their relationship.

She nestled against him, her heart aflutter with emotions that defied easy categorization. Despite the impending repercussions of their actions, she couldn't deny the profound satisfaction she felt. As her eyes fluttered closed, the only thought that remained was that revenge, in its twisted and tumultuous way, could be intoxicatingly sweet.

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diasslim · 3 months ago

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Hello! I'm so happy to have more new writers?! 🎉

can the reader be hailie's mother? and the reader's family doesn't like Marshall and try to exclude him from readers and hailie (hailie may have just been born or about 1-2 years old)

Thank you✨

A/N: Hope you like it!

Warning: Angst; slight swearing!

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Since you met Marshall, your family never really liked him, but when you showed up pregnant just some years after finishing high school they went crazy.

As soon as you two could you two got married. Both of you were working all day to have some rent, since your familly won't help you if you didn't divorce him, and his mother? Well, it's complicated, even if she liked you.

The months passed quickly, your belly growing big as your fatigue. You quit your full time job to work as a cleaner on a restaurant near your house. Of course your parents didn't like the fact you were working while carrying a baby, they thought that Marshall should be able to pay for everything alone.

And when he kept going for rap battles, wanting to make hip hop his career? You could see the disgust on their faces when they came to visit you.

Halie was born at Christmas. The most perfect gift you could have been given. And when he hold her you knew it was the best gift for him also.

For the first time in years your parents didn't make Marshall's and yours relationship a problem. They were just focused on you and the cute baby on his arms.

The things you would do for it staying like this. You thought Halie would be the glue to stick the family together. Oh, you're so wrong! It just got worse.

They would come in the house and starts random fights, waking the baby and making her cry, they would insult Marshall and his music, one time your father even called you a hoe.

"Say that shit again!"

Marshall yelled to your father as he gor infront of you and crying Halie on your arms. You mother held your father by his arm, begging for him to stop insulting you.

"I will! You're a shit hoe! You were not raised like that!"

It was just two seconds to your dad be on the floor because Marshall punched him on the nose. You mom let out a scream as Halie would cry even more louder.

You couldn't move. Your arms embraced Halie even tightly. You would faint. Your heartbeat is getting too fast or too slow? You couldn't tell if you were dreaming or this is the horrible reality you were facing.

"Please stop! (F/N)! Please, stop..."

Your mother yelled and looked at you, then at Marshall, then back at you. She was shaking. Is she afraid? Is she anxious? What the fuck is happening?

"The both of you are two fucking crying bitches!"

Your fathee got up and spit on the Marshall's feet, getting out in a rude manner as he almost breaks the door. You sigh in relief. You kneeled down letting Halie on the floor as her legs are shaking.

"Mama..."

You close your eyes, trying to ignore everything around you. But you felt skinny shaking arms embracing you quickly and a soft kiss on your forehead. Your mother didn't like Marshall, neither your choices, but she will be forever your mother.

You just opened your eyes when Marshall sat by your side, embracing you and Halie in a tight hug. Halie let go of you and hugged her dad tightly, allowing you to cry on his chest as you think about everything that just happened.

..................................................................................

#eminem #eminem fanfiction #marshall mathers #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers fanfiction #eminem x reader #slim shady x reader #slim shady #angst #family problems #fanfic #imagine

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sirenedeslily · 1 month ago

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VIDEO OBSESSION 〻ᯇ # matthew sturniolo

✦ SEARCHING FOR PROFILES… two results found !

result ONE out of TWO — @ChromeHearts

MATTHEW STURNIOLO, marlboro-stained recluse. winter fog. chrome hearts. eyebags? permanent. little big planet. streamer incapable of not raging. body littered in tattoos. opium* meets forgotten ps2 game protagonist. yohji yamamoto. blade runner (1982). 2002. scared of the hoes. relies heavily on sarcasm, dry quips, and saying “bruh” at the most inappropriate times. permanently tired. takes games way too seriously but always clutches the win. vamp anthem by playboi carti. boston › nyc.

KAILANI HENDRIX, the quintessential “soft girl” youtuber from nyc. tinted lip gloss. born in pink tulle & lace. doe eyed. small, delicate tattoos peeking from under lace-trimmed sleeves. miu miu. short n sweet. freshly painted nails holding a cup of matcha. directed by sofia coppola. prada candy. deer-themed knickknacks. soft spoken. rhode. leg warmers. dainty gold rings. ‘03 princess. her most cherished possession? her custom made blythe doll that her boyfriend gifted her. bambi by clairo. sandy liang. ballet flats.

CHRIS STURNIOLO, static by lucki. vivienne westwood. 2002. disheveled and clueless. stussy. mario kart aficionado but only chooses donkey kong. pepsi. hot wheels hoarder. timberlands. chronically inebriated but somehow always lucid enough to pull off a quick-witted comeback. dior sauvage. collects old bootleg mixtapes of obscure 90’s memphis rap. french toast crunch. album reaction streamer who plays ssx tricky and gta v when high. custom lighter with his beautiful girlfriend on it. godly at fortnite.

NAO CHUNG, kill bill: vol. 1 (2003). deeply nostalgic for jet set radio future, and can recite every dj professor k line from memory. born in ‘00. yumin ha. soju. aphex twin. sonic adventure 2. co-parents a tamagotchi with his boyfriend nick. korea › nyc. spike spiegel. incapable of thinking before he speaks. ralph lauren polo. self thought producer. ysl l’homme. singer who effortlessly blends the edge of k-rnb with dreamy electronic textures, capturing a raw, nostalgic energy rooted in korean street culture. omen main but exclusively runs knife kills in unranked just to troll his friends.

NICK STURNIOLO, self titled idgaf warrior. vintage olympus om-10. obsessed with collecting bootleg runway tapes and niche comme des garçons accessories—his holy grail is an unreleased cdg tote from their 1998 guerilla pop-up in paris.. gentle monster eyewear. homotron 3000. poison by brent faiyaz. carries a polaroid of nao tucked into the coin slot of his vivienne westwood wallet. ‘02 star. mocha macarons. always in second-hand luxury stores. comme des garçons odeur 53. youtuber known for his meticulous fashion reviews. leather jackets and marlboro reds.

back to profile one @FallenAngels - back to masterlist!

🖥️𓈒ིུ✧꫶᳜᳝͟ᰭ✿⃨ TRENDING NOW ! matt sturniolo was known for many things: his striking looks, his dominance in the gaming world, and his complete inability to keep his cool around beautiful women. so it’s almost poetic—almost—that his fiery temper explodes during an intense fortnite match, broadcasted live to thousands, only to discover later that the player who completely shattered his pride was y/n greenblatt, one of the most beloved streamers in the community—and undeniably beautiful.

𝒢𝜚 💭 ࣪ ✸ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ∿ PLS SEND ASK I WANNA KNOW WHAT CHARACTER YOURE MORE DRAWN TO

TAGLIST ( open ) ; @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @flouvela @waitforyrlove @elizabebabe @ncm9696 @marrykisskilled @maggot3647 @l34n @sturniolossss @lovingregulusblack @cl1tlover3000 @mattslolita @mattssgf @le4hsblog @brvtall @mattscoquette @chratts-left-ball @jetaimevous @angelesqve @starlace111 @secretlocket @starkeyszn @etherealval @slut4chriss @star-yawnznn @nickmillersn1gf @sturnsmia @tastesousweet @strnilolover @xoxo4chrisss @ifwdominicfike @emely9274 @fratbrochrisgf @2augustsago @sturn777 @st4rsturns

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k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9 · 5 months ago

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2Pac - Hit 'Em Up

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stay-dazed · 6 months ago

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a simple stray kids guide (for baby stays) ✨

overview: stray kids, or skz for short, is an 8-member korean boy band that debuted on march 25th, 2018 under jype ent. they were formed through a survival show in 2017 with originally 9 members, but one member left the group a year after debut for unknown reasons. there are three subunits to the group: 3racha the rap/producer unit, danceracha the dance unit, and vocalracha the vocal unit. of course, though, all of them do a bit of everything.

stray kids were considered an “experimental group” since the leader of the group was tasked with choosing all the members himself, and coming up with the name, logo, and fandom name of the group. as a group, they produced all their own music as well. they were relatively small for a while but by the time they released their song god’s menu, they were growing in popularity.

now stray kids have had many accomplishments, including: performing at lollapalooza, being the first k-pop group invited to the met gala, becoming ambassadors for brands like versace and gucci, winning around 82 awards, and producing an ost for the deadpool movie. they've also recently set a guinness world record for the first ever group to have #1 albums 5 times in a row over the course of only 8 months!

while they are incredibly talented and successful celebrities, they’re also very down to earth, and very connected with their fanbase. they’ve shown openness and vulnerability with their fans by releasing songs with serious topic matters, crying on stage, and talking about their emotions/experiences. personally, they’re the only band i’ve ever seen who feel genuine love for their fanbase.

english name: christopher

stage name: bangchan, cb97 in 3racha

age: 27 (october 3rd, 1997)

nationality: australian-korean

languages: english, korean

positions: leader, producer in 3racha, dancer, rapper, vocalist

skzoo: wolfchan

instagram: gnabnahc

basics: chan was born in korea, but moved to australia when he was about 3 or 4 years old. he remained there with his two younger siblings, hannah and lucas, and their cavalier king charles named berry, until he was 13 when he went back to korea to become a k-pop trainee. he trained for about 7 years until he was finally able to debut as stray kids’ leader. chan is very reliable as the leader and dad of the group, but he’s also australian, so he adds to the chaos very well.

fun facts: chan has hypermobile arms and legs, and can turn his hand 360°. he sometimes wears wrist and knee braces due to overextension. chan won many medals in swimming growing up and could’ve gone into that career. along with that, he’s also good in many other sports like soccer and track. chan's hair is naturally curly!

english name: rhino (yes i’m serious)

stage name: leeknow

age: 26 (october 25th, 1998)

nationality: korean

languages: korean and basic english

positions: lead dancer in danceracha, vocalist, rapper

skzoo: leebit

instagram: t.leeknowsaurus

basics: minho was born and raised in korea as an only child, aside from his cat siblings soonie, doongie, and dori. he moved out of his parents’ home at a fairly young age in order to be closer to his university, where he was said to have studied dance and comp-sci, as well as worked as a waiter for some time. he was called in to train under jype in 2017 and he ended up passing the dance test in only 2 weeks, the shortest period among jype trainees. minho is considered to be a “tsundere” since he’s very blunt, loud, and a bit rough generally, but is very kind and caring inside.

fun facts: minho toured in japan with bts as a backup dancer when he was in highschool. minho has acrophobia, the severe fear of heights, and he cannot swim. minho is well-trained in taekwondo, boxing, and bodyguard martial arts. minho said that the reason he isn’t comfortable showing his abs like some other members do is because he has a scar on his stomach from a surgery he had as a child.

english name: lewis

stage name: spearB in 3racha

age: 24 (august 11th, 1999)

nationality: korean

languages: korean and intermediate english

positions: producer in 3racha, main rapper, vocalist, dancer

skzoo: dwaekki

instagram: jutdwae

basics: changbin was born and raised in korea, along with his older sister, in a fairly wealthy family. he originally joined jype as a trainee at age 17 to debut as a vocalist, but was convinced to debut as a rapper by a counselor. unfortunately i don’t know much about changbin’s trainee days, other than he trained for about 2 years, and he was part of 3racha who uploaded their first rap song on soundcloud in 2017. changbin is a pretty silly and loud person, but has been described by his members as someone they can approach and who will notice/remember the smallest things about them.

fun facts: changbin prefers plants as he’s allergic to both cats and dogs. changbin is a blackbelt in taekwondo, and he named his own pecs "jut" and "dwae". changbin has said he would like to own his own gym or be a tattoo artist. changbin is the shortest member at 5 '6. changbin was named the fastest male rapper in the k-pop industry with 11 korean syllables per second, i believe.

english name: sam

age: 24 (march 20th, 2000)

nationality: korean

languages: korean and advanced english

positions: dancer in danceracha, vocalist, rapper

skzoo: jiniret

instagram: hynjinnnn

basics: hyunjin was born and raised in korea as an only child, along with his long-haired chihuahua, kkami. he was approached by two k-pop company scouts at a young age, one of which while he was out shopping with his mom. and, of course, he chose jype. he trained as a dancer, and admitted he had hated dancing at first due to the emotional toll it took on him, but now he says dance is like another language he can speak. unlike minho, he attended university online, all during his busy career as an idol. hyunjin is introverted, but very silly and dramatic at the same time.

fun facts: hyunjin has a fear of sudden loud noises, like balloons popping. hyunjin is the tallest member at 5 '11. hyunjin was going to be an interior designer before he became an idol. hyunjin is an artist in multiple forms of media, but he’s most interested in sketching and painting. hyunjin had a live called “counseling center” where he would read his fans’ comments and give them advice/encouragement. hyunjin once broke his hand and now he can't really bend his right pinky finger.

english name: peter

stage name: han, and j.one in 3racha

age: 24 (september 14th, 2000)

nationality: korean

languages: korean and advanced english

positions: producer in 3racha, rapper, dancer, vocalist

skzoo: han quokka

instagram: _doolsetnet

basics: jisung was born in korea like his older brother. his family moved to malaysia when he was about 8, where they stayed for a while before coming back to korea. his parents weren’t particularly supportive of his desire to become a trainee at first, but they made a deal with him that if he could be accepted into a company before a certain amount of time, they’d let him continue. if not, he’d have to go back to school to get another job. luckily he made it into jype, and became chan’s very first member of choice. like hyunjin, jisung is an introvert, but he’s very loud and energetic at the same time.

fun facts: jisung started learning english in malaysia, which may be why his accent when speaking english is faintly british. jisung has been open with his fans about his struggles with social anxiety and depression. he also supposedly has trypophobia, the fear of clusters of holes, but that isn’t proven. jisung has a bichon frise named bbama. jisung and hyunjin were the real enemies to besties.

english name: felix

age: 24 (september 15th, 2000)

nationality: australian-korean

languages: korean, english, basic french

positions: dancer in danceracha, vocalist, rapper

skzoo: bokkari

instagram: yong.lixx

basics: felix was born and raised in sydney, australia, with his older sister raechel and his younger sister olivia. he was 17 when he moved to korea to become a trainee at jype, where he studied korean at the same time, as his parents didn’t raise him to speak the language very much. it’s been said by chan that he was particularly hard on felix during their time before debut because he saw potential in him, and he wanted him to do his best to succeed. felix is known as the sunshine of the group, for the fact that he’s incredibly sweet and happy.

fun facts: felix debuted his runway model career at a louis vuitton fashion show. felix is a 3rd degree black belt in taekwondo, which he won 63 medals in over the course of 12 years. felix has a very deep voice that doesn’t match his face, and he will occasionally make his own asmr content. felix has volunteered in laos with/become an ambassador for unicef. felix is so afraid of scary things, he’s admitted to reading his bible after watching a horror movie. felix cries easily.

english name: sky

age: 24 (september 22nd, 2000)

nationality: korean

languages: korean and advanced english

positions: lead vocalist in vocalracha, dancer, rapper

skzoo: puppym

instagram: miniverse.___

basics: seungmin was born and raised in korea, along with his older sister. he moved to LA as a child for only about 3 months, but that’s where he started his study in english and where he got his english name from a teacher. he trained for one year after winning 2nd place in jype’s 13th open audition, before debuting with stray kids. seungmin is basically an ambivert (it’s not conclusive if he’s introverted or extroverted), and tends to playfully bully his members. he can be pretty random and silly.

fun facts: seungmin wanted to be a baseball player before becoming an idol, and he actually pitched a strike at a game for the second time recently (the first time he was about 9 years old). seungmin was into boxing, although i’m not sure if he is anymore. seungmin and felix have a live called “cat puppy school” where they just mess up recipes constantly. seungmin is the only idol i’ve seen that seems to have autistic traits, from my own autistic prospective. i’m not diagnosing him of course!

english name: bobby (i refuse to call anyone under the age of 60 bob)

stage name: i.n

age: 23 (february 8th, 2001)

nationality: korean

languages: korean and intermediate english

positions: vocalist in vocalracha, dancer, rapper, maknae

skzoo: foxi.ny

instagram: i.2.n.8

basics: jeongin was born and raised in busan, korea, along with his older brother who’s in the military, and his little brother yoon. he was a trainee for about 2 years, and was only 17 when they officially debuted. he bonded especially with hyunjin, who basically took him under his wing at the time. jeongin is introverted, but follows his hyungs’ lead into chaos. he’s very clumsy, and he’s known as the spoiled maknae. the “baby bread” of the group.

fun facts: jeongin wanted to be a kindergarten teacher, social worker, or priest before becoming an idol. jeongin has a more nasally voice, so he’s particularly good at the trot singing style. jeongin has claimed he was a naughty child, running away from home and laying down in the middle of stores when he couldn’t get what he wanted. jeongin is incredibly good with fashion, so his members come to him for advice, and he often posts ootd’s on his instagram.

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enkays-den · 7 days ago

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Enkay watches the Imp and Skizz Podcast #128 (feat..... Imp and Skizz?????)

This week the boys took questions from the community and answered them! It's been a long time coming, since the last time they did this was over two years ago!

NOTE: none of these are direct quotes unless they are in quotation marks! I paraphrased a LOT to make this post decently short! This podcast is an hour forty minutes long, you GOTTA watch the full thing! x

"thanks for having me. big fan." i love skizz

Skizzleman name origin! He wanted to make a username for a poker website and the original slant on his last name was taken; a rap stereotype at the time was to slap 'izzle' on the end of it, Skizzleman was born

Impulse name origin! Impulse played marching snare for a drum corp called Impulse! His initials are SV so he smacked that on the end.

Question #1 from Marihl1354: What advice would you give to the other 10 years in the past?

Impulse: Join me. If you have the time, make it because you WILL be successful.

Skizz: Care less about what others think, because you can fly so far if you stop trying to please everyone and follow your instincts.

Question #2 from Hunter-7115: Who's the Better Host?

Both! It wouldn't be the podcast you know and love if it wasn't both of us!

"I complete you" SHUT UPPPPP

Question #3 from nicholashalom1632: Biggest moment that put your friendship to the test?

This story from the first Q&A We were both being you and stupid and drunk and thankfully we've never been that bad since.

Question #4 from IdiotSandwich2087: How exactly would you define your worst day in content creation?

Impulse: Any time where I have my day planned and I'm excited for it, and then something gets in the way and messes up my plan. It's mainly just frustrating and it's something I specifically have issues about.

Skizz: My first Twitch Rivals event, my internet cut out several times, and it was frustrating and demoralizing, but I didn't lose my cool.

Question #5 from iceybruhyt2178: What did you think initially when Grian originally pitched Third Life?

Skizz: I knew it would be a hit. I didn't know the longevity, but I knew it was going to be a success because it had the potential to have story elements that the audience would enjoy. I'm honored that I was picked since my channel was so small at the time.

Impulse: I knew it would work, but I didn't know how well us together would make this perfect ensemble. And it's still an amazing group that gels so well together on and off screen after almost 4 years. Each person wants everyone to have a good time and make great videos.

Question #6 from opalwhisker: What do you do with all the gifts you receive? What's the weirdest/funniest gift you've been given? What's your favorite stuff?

Impulse: Pretty much everything is special, because they all have heart and meaning to the person that gave it to me, and it makes me very grateful for my fans and for what I do.

Skizz: The drawings really impress me because it's such a show of skill and talent and everything is so touching because it's personal.

Question #7 from AgnesBooth-zu7tw: What would you do for content creation if you can't do Hermitcraft?

Skizz: Streaming. I like doing variety game streaming as well as Hermitcraft, the cooking stream with my wife was a lot of fun. Also voice acting (enkay personal note: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE)

Impulse: Anything that shows off my authentic self. I also really enjoy the video production end of things because it makes a great product and it plays to my strengths, I want to persue that more.

Also the Podcast!

Questions #8 and #9 from TrueCDC

Question #8: What video are you most proud of?

Impulse: The Storm the Castle video! I worked so hard on it, I learned a ton of new things, and it was really fulfilling for me to build something that was an experience everyone enjoyed.

Skizz: The Guess the Build series! I pitched the original idea based off of Telestrations and Grian took my idea and really polished it in terms of rules and getting the server mechanics organized so it's sleek. They're so much fun to make, everyone has a great time, the videos are amazing. I love the laughs we get out of it.

WHY WAS THAT BLEEP SO LONG

Question #9: What would you do differently about the podcast if you started again tomorrow?

The name. It doesn't telegraph a lot of information if you don't know who we are, and it doesn't really say anything about what sort of stuff we make.

The thing we DON'T regret is making our podcast NOT centered around a particular topic. It keeps things interesting for us and that's the most important element to keep the podcast going for as long as we want.

Questions #10 and #11 from Ranger12_

Question #10: What have you learned from each other?

Skizz: The importance of planning when it's needed. I tend to be more loose and free but it has it downfalls. I can still plan but have the freedom I need.

Impulse: A bit of parenting advice from Skizz. "If your kid is asking you to spend time with them to make a memory, You Take It."

Question #11: How did marching band change you?

Impulse: It kind of helped expose us to the multitasking that we would see later in adulthood, between school, having to have a job, and practicing. It taught me a lot of discipline and I got to experience the rush of REALLY hard work actually paying off.

Skizz: It really had a LOT of gravity and importance because of how intense and highly respected DCI is. It's a lot of pressure and we all had to pitch in to execute routines PERFECTLY.

Question #12 from LoSDockForBoats: Skizz, when you realize there was never a time limit on living your life to its fullest?

Skizz: A combination of my MS diagnosis in my mid-20s and any time when someone close to me passes away is always a wake-up call.

Question #13 from catfan0_0: Who are your favorite non-Minecraft content creators?

Skizz: For drumming, Estepario simply because he's the best, Brad Owen makes really good poker content and his videos are interesting, insightful, and funny! Sam The Cooking Guy is an amazing chef and host, and the post production is great, and the recipes he makes are AMAZING! (special shoutout to theOdd1sOut and Mark Rober)

Impulse: Harris Heller, he's a tech guy that I get most of my gear recommendations from, and I enjoy his videos.

Questions #14 and #15 from @skizzpulsee (AHHHHHHHH)

Question #14: What's your Roman Empire? (they didn't understand what that meant)

Impulse: Expanding my content to a wider scope.

Skizz: I don't think I have one (Enkay grabs the mic: IT'S SITCOMS)

Question #15 for Skizz: What's the best prank of all time?

Skizz: It was ages ago when I was working at Costco. There was a woman named K would nick little paper/cardboard signs that no one would miss from fast food places and stuff to decorate her room. We went to a Subway for lunch break and she said she wanted a sign that had LED lights in it. I grabbed it as we left and head back to work. She took it and later on I see there's a couple cop cars in the mall plaza and he told his boss to say that the cops were there for K because of the sign. He SOLD it and K is freaking out. I come back and pretend the cops talked to me. I grab the sign again and go outside to "talk to the cops". I put the sign in her car (I stole the keys from her locker) and return and pretend I got a stern talking to from the cops and they have my photo and information.

She got SO anxious about it that my boss felt bad and let her take the day off. She sees the sign in her car and flinches (I have snuck into the parking lot and have followed her). I yell at her to not get too mad, she yells at me good-naturedly, and she takes a well deserved afternoon off. (Kids, don't steal things)

Question #16 from Kiwimarauder: Which guest inspired you?

Impulse: Claire. She motivated me to pull the trigger on lifestyle changes that I'd been wanting to make for a few years now and it's recently been a big impact on me (but also I can't choose, they're all inspirational)

Skizz: My two main ones are Mumbo and Bdubs. Mumbo was such a big inspiration in terms of creativity and not questioning if my ideas are "good enough" and Bdubs because he helped me embrace "I'm happy and healthy and my important people are too, and sometimes that's all the ambition I need"

Question #17 from mariashaw980: Do you ever join the Hermitcraft server to find yourselves enamored by the utter creativity, complexity, and strength of your peers?

Impulse: Yeah, I was a big hermitcraft fan from season 2, and I was watching Etho from before I made a youtube channel. To be in the same space with these people hit me every time I'm with them. They're all inspiring and amazing and it's humbling.

Skizz: ditto to the above, I'm constantly amazed with literally everything

Question #18 from ronaldfelix1850: What other hobbies do you guys have besides gaming?

Skizz: Poker, but it's not a BIG hobby because poker is the fun thing and not gambling. I learned it from my older brothers and I loved the psychological angle of it.

Impulse: Computers and tech stuff, also renovating (probably because of my interior decorator wife). I love working on house projects.

Question #19 from Savannah_831: What's your favorite moment you've had together playing minecraft?

There's so many, but a recent highlight is our prank on Joel early in the season. It was a collaborative moment for us and it's so much fun to get one over on Joel because he has such great reactions and it was a matter of pride

Question #20 from TzainDoesMusic: Who's the one person you want to meet, dead or alive?

Impulse: Matthew McConaughey or Matthew Perry

Skizz: Matthew Perry is also high up there, but also Jesus would be cool. I would ask QUESTIONS. "I bet I could make him laugh"

Questions #21 and #22 from Alchamyx:

Question #21: To Skizz: How in the world do you stay so positive?

Skizz: It's more that I don't show too much real negativity on stream or in videos. It's not really what I want to give as a content creator for you guys, and everyone has bad days, nothing to be ashamed of.

Question #22: To Impulse: How do you see your creative projects come to life?

Impulse: Honestly they're usually spur-of-the-moment ideas, usually inspired by stuff that I surround myself with at the time. My candy factory was inspired by my daughter getting REALLY into all the Willy Wonka stuff. The cyberpunk city and all the lore wasn't inspired by ANYTHING topical. It just came to me, and I knew myself and Bdubs would have fun with the building style.

Questions #23 and #24 from angiesteuck:

Question #23: Skizz, how do you like playing on Hermitcraft?

Skizz: I LOVE it. It's fun being a guy that helps facilitate funny moments. It makes me want to be a better builder and do more for the Hermits, like Tango does with his amazing games

Question #24: Do you ever get recognized when you are out and about?

Impulse: Very rarely. We were once recognized together in the middle of nowhere and it was a really sweet family. But my last vacation I was on a cruise and I was recognized several times! If you see either of us, absolutely say hi when it's an appropriate time!

Skizz: I had a dinner where my waiter recognized me and he was very polite about it, it was such a nice moment.

BONUS PRIMMERS!!!!!

#impulsesv #skizzleman #imp and skizz #text #hermitcraft #life series #trafficblr #hermitblr #walleye is cool and she put up with me pausing the stream every two minutes to transcribe this

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defjux · 25 days ago

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64 of my favorite Hip Hop releases of 2024 Anything outside of the top 20-30 the order doesn't really matter much, but I think all of these releases are dope and worth your time. I'll post another list soon with the rest of my favorite albums from this year in other genres, but the hip hop list is tradition for me at this point. Hopefully there's something new here for you to enjoy. I'm sure there's a few releases that went under the radar for me, so if anyone has suggestions i'm all ears. As always, the album titles below will have the bandcamp link/spotify url as a hyperlink if either are available. Oh yeah, feel free to let me know what your favorite albums of the year were, i'd like to know - any genre, it doesn't have to just be hip hop. Peace. Chart with Album Titles included

1. ELUCID - REVELATOR 2. Ka - The Thief Next To Jesus 3. AKAI SOLO - DREAMDROPDRAGON 4. Mach-Hammy - #RICHAXXHAITIAN 5. Cavalier - Different Type Time 6. The Fortunate Ones (Anwar HighSigh & Dr. Quandary) - RESIN 7. Armand Hammer - BLK LBL 8. Kenny Segal & K-The-I??? - Genuine Dexterity 9. ShrapKnel - Nobody Planning To Leave 10. Sunmundi & klwn cat - Lived and Born 11. Nakama - EMBERGO_ 12. Lee Scott - To Tame A Dead Horse 13. Dead Players - Faster Than the Speed of Death 14. Oliver The 2nd & Heather Grey - Desert Camo 15. Navy Blue - Memoirs in Armour 16. Nuse Tyrant - Juxtaposed Echoes 17. Phiik & Lungs - Carrot Season 18. Nickelus F - MMCHT 19. DJ Muggs & Raz Fresco - The Eternal Now 20. Joshua Virtue - Black Box: JOSHUA IS DEAD

21. Duncecap & Steel Tipped Dove - The Need To Know 22. Jak Tripper - The Wild Dark 23. Mary Sue - Voice Memos From A Winter In China 24. Midnight Sons - Money Has No Owners 25. Revival Season - Golden Age Of Self Snitching 26. JPEGMAFIA - I LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU 27. Boldy James & Conductor Williams - Across The Tracks 28. Sasco - The Hottest Year on Record 29. yungmorpheus - WAKING UP AND CHOOSING VIOLENCE 30. Hester Valentine - Valenta 31. Deca & Deal. - Bough 32. Serengeti - KDIV 33. Mavi - Shadowbox 34. cunabear - What Dollar$ Can't Buy You 35. Rap Man Gavin & postureless - Memories, Dreams, Reflections 36. Sadistik & Maulskull - Oblivion Theater 37. Oddisee - And Yet Still 38. Roc Marciano - MARCIOLOGY 39. Noveliss & Hir-O - Cyberpunk Rhapsody 40. Tyler, the Creator - Chromakopia 41. Rich Jones & SINAI. - Sour Dub 42. Freddie Gibbs - You Only Die 1nce 43. Vince Staples - Dark Times 44. Javi Darko - DEATH OF AN IMMORTAL 45. bromethugzine - THUG ZINE issue 002: WORLD-SPIRIT 46. Teller Bank$ & Ed Glorious - The Pride & Glory 47. Nxworries - WHY LAWD? 48. Cavalier & Quelle Chris - Death Tape 2 49. R.A.P. Ferreira - The First Fist to Make Contact When We Dap 50. Lupe Fiasco - Samurai 51. Lt Headtrip X Bloodmoney Perez - EMBLEMS 52. Chuck Strangers - A Forsaken Lover's Plea 53. Daniel Son & Futurewave - BUSHMAN BODEGA 54. MIKE & Tony Seltzer - Pinball 55. Kendrick Lamar - GNX 56. Estee Nack - SYSTEMATICALLY WE WERE NEVER FREE 57. Ja'king the Divine - Children of the Scorned 58. Big Flowers x Messiah Musik - Save The Bees 59. Shape - Midnight Geometry 60. Sleep Sinatra & bloomcycle - Memory(ummm…) 61. Skyzoo - Keep Me Company 62. Common & Pete Rock - The Auditorium, Vol. 1 63. NAHreally & The Expert - BLIP 64. IMP - Idle Hands

#album of the year #2024 hip hop releases #music recommendations #ELUCID #brownsvilleka #AKAI SOLO #mach-hommy #cavalier #armand hammer #nakama #sunmundi #lee scott #shrapknel #navy blue

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harlowtales · 8 months ago

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Y/N goes into labour at Gazebo Fest with Jack on stage 👶🏻

18+ only - Mature Themes🚨

“Ok baby I hope you’re ok.” Jack said as he kissed you and grabbed his keys heading out the door to head to Gazebo Fest sound check in the heat of a May Kentucky afternoon.

“Will you please go? Grandpa is coming to pick me up later. We’ll be in the VIP section so gramps is out of the way. I know this is your first festival you’re running for the city and I’m about to deliver this baby at any moment but everything is going to be fine.” You went in for a deeper kiss as you couldn’t get enough of your husband’s pillowy perfect heart shaped lips. Your favourite thing to do was suck on his juicy bottom lip just to remind him of who’s boss.

“Mmmmm don’t start ok, I’m going to be late. I don’t know how you manage to heighten my anxiety and calm me down at the same time.” Jack said to you half wanting to take you into the bedroom but his heart was beating fast as he had his mind on the 2 days coming up of the whole production of the festival. It was all on him to make it a success.

As planned Grandpa came to get you and promised he wouldn’t go and try to get too close to the action. He insisted on going and Jack had a hard time talking him out of things. Now that you were pregnant it was more him keeping an eye on you.

“Are you comfortable Y/N? Let me know if you need anything” Grandpa said as you took your seats. He was forever the gentleman and it was obvious where Jack got it from.

“I’m fine, just feeling the pressure is all” you said as you rubbed your belly “the baby is sitter lower.”

“Oh I know it’s just a matter of time. We’re all very excited. I have big plans for this little one. Maybe they’ll like car sales and I can buy them a dealership.” He said proudly.

“Maybe Grandpa.” You said with a giggle. Everyone was putting their 2 cents in as to what the first grandchild from Jack would be. Jack and you agreed you would let your child decide what they want. Jack said if they want to act or rap he wasn’t going to stand in the way, but was maybe hoping for a doctor or professor.

The opening acts were done and it was time for the big moment for the King of Kentucky to take the stage. You got as excited as any fan and were disappointed you weren’t allowed to watch from the side of the stage as usual but Jack wanted you out of harms way and away from the music being too loud. In the box they catered to your every need, but you would rather be hanging out around the stage drinking ice cold Modelo in the heat.

It was evening now and you didn’t want to miss Jack but it was too long of a day for you now. You asked if there was someway to lay down and Grandpa was concerned. “We can go home” he suggested kindly.

“No I….I don’t want to miss Jack.” You said wincing a bit from the baby kicking hard.

“Y/N you don’t look good.” Grandpa said honestly and concerned.

“That’s enough for you for the day. There’s plenty other times for you to see Jack.” He insisted.

“But there’s no…ouch!” You paused and winced. This felt different. It was a sharper pain you hadn’t felt before. “There’s no other first….oh!” It came again “No other first Gazebo Fest.” You finally finished saying in between wincing and flinching from sharp pains you were starting to feel in waves.

“Get over here! She’s going into labour, I need help!” Grandpa said having no idea what to do. He thought he could handle it but seeing you in such pain was too much for him. He had grown so close to you it was hard for him and he had never seen a baby born in his life. In the days his wife had babies husbands weren’t allowed in the room.

“I got this don’t worry.” Sunni said who was hanging around in the vicinity. He didn’t want to step on Grandpa’s toes who claimed territory over being beside you, but he knew if shit went down he was the only other one in Jack’s circle that could help. He had seen his sister’s kids born in her home birth and helped out during the whole ordeal.

“You got this ok?” Sunni said rubbing your back “breathe like this” he demonstrated taking a deep breath in for a count of 3 and slowly letting it out. You started to feel more in control, but the contractions were speeding up.

An ambulance was on the way and venue security was making sure the whole area was blocked off for privacy. They found a cot for you to lay on as you felt weak. Jack continued to spit bars of such hits as Nail Tech, and They Don’t Love It while you started to cry out in pain holding Sunni’s hand tight as he guided you in what to do. He advised people to not call Jack but in an open air festival people saw a commotion in your section and cell phone started coming out like crazy.

Finally the ambulance got there and gently moved you onto the stretcher. Jack saw ambulance lights in the distance and paused the show as he always did concerned about the crowd. He hadn’t yet got the news while performing that his baby was coming.

“Everyone please take one step back. An ambulance is here please if someone needs help clear the area and make sure everyone around you is safe.” He said trying to keep the crowd calm. Just then Urban came up on the stage and whispered in Jack’s ear.

“What the fuck??” He said to Urban amplified by the mic near his mouth. “She said what? Finish my set? Is she fucking crazy?”

In between contractions you sent a message for Jack to finish his set and not leave to come to the hospital. There was too much riding on Gazebo Fest for him to not continue for the fans. In your mind this made perfect sense. Sunni was with you in the ambulance and Grandpa was following in his car. Grandpa had alerted the whole family who was headed to the hospital also.

“Y’all I gotta fucking go. I’m having a baby!” Jack screamed and everyone at the festival roared as Jack jumped down off the side and took off running. Urban, his security, and assistant had no choice but to take off and try to keep up with him. Kat his assistant was running behind him with the puppy who was barking with excitement. They located the black sprinter van and jumped in “How fucking fast can you go?” Jack asked the driver “I’m having a baby.” The driver looked at him confused. “No not me my wife I mean, fuck go!!” Jack said flustered.

It took about half an hour to get to the hospital and was the longest 30 minutes of Jack’s life. “K, I need to know where my wife is. I’m Jack Harlow and her name is Y/N Harlow.” Jack explained as he walked up to the counter out of breath.

“We know who you are Mr.Harlow. Please remain calm. Your wife is on the 12 floor in room 1204, she hasn’t delivered yet, but you’ll have to squeeze in. Your whole family is in there.” The front desk admin explained not too happy with about 6 people in the birthing room that wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Maggie was wiping your brown as you were in position. You had your hospital gown on and a large sheet over your bottom half. You were dilated and the baby’s head was crowning when Jack burst into the room. They managed to stop him long enough for him to put on a gown, wash his hands, and put gloves on.

The baby was coming fast. It had only been a few hours since your contractions started. Jack got there just in time. “Whoah baby! Look at you my superstar. You…oh…oh shit! I see the head!!! She’s coming!” Jack exclaimed and let out the secret you were having a girl. None of his family knew until he just blurted it out. The whole family cheered much to the doctor’s dismay and more people had showed up like Urban and 6 of Jack’s other friends.

“Ok everyone I know this is a big deal, but it’s a little tight in here can you please step outside and Mr. Harlow please contain yourself. It’s distracting. Baby is coming and we need to focus.”

“Yeah of course doc I got you.” Jack said “Ok y’all get da fuck out.” He said to everybody ushering them out of the room. I gotta catch my little soccer ball right quick here.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant Mr.Harlow but thank you for clearing the room. Now are you ready?” The doctor said motioning for Jack to crouch down and get in position to catch the baby.

“Doc I said I got you. You don’t even need to be here for real. I got this.” Jack said confidently.

You were so happy to see him. It was getting chaotic and Jack being him brought you some peace and made you laugh which took your mind off some of the pain.

“You look good down there baby as usual, don’t trip, ain’t no thang, just need a few more pushes and she’s out.” Jack said coaching you in his own way.

“Jack don’t make me laugh right now.” You begged breathlessly holding Maggie’s hand and trying to listen to the nurse telling you when to push, breathe, and stop. He was being completely serious and didn’t get how much he was irritating the doctor.

“Ok Mrs. Harlow bear down and give a big push. This is it.” The nurse said. “Mr. Harlow get ready. Hold your hands like this. Here’s your clamp and scissors.” She said handing everything over to Jack who wasn’t ready for what everything entailed in this moment. His whole world was about to change and it hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Welp you got this so I can go.” The doctor joked with Jack patting him on the back and heading for the door.

“Ah hell naw doc, I was just kidding please don’t go.” Jack begged.

“Uughhhh!!!!!” You screamed and bared down hard. The head came out and rest of the body just slipped out quickly. Jack caught his daughter filled with so many emotions he started to cry with joy. Guided by the doctor he clamped the umbilical cord and snipped it. It all happened so fast.

“Mr. Harlow you want to bring your daughter over and clean her off for mom?” The nurse asked as Jack was just stunned staring at her in his arms. Her tiny body was shaking with loud crying.

“Got good lungs on her baby.” Jack said to you staring at her and continuing to hold her.

“Jack give Y/N the baby.” Maggie said “She needs to eat and bond right away…Jackman…did you hear me?”

“Jack give me my dang baby.” You said prying her away as he was fixated on her. She latched on immediately and sucked happily resting on your tummy. She was beautiful with fine brown curls, olive complexion, and grey/hazel eyes she hadn’t fully opened yet. Jack saw a dimple like his when she yawned and he lost his mind. You were exhausted and had nothing left. Jack kissed you on the forehead and pulled back the curtain covering the glass doors.

About 20 people were waiting from outside the room. It was the most famous birth the hospital had ever had. They all would have been front row for the event had they been allowed.

“Don’t y’all got nothing better to do?” Jack teased them. “Y’all act like there ain’t a festival going on. We’ll have y’all over soon. Thanks for coming I love y’all so much but we getting on these good people last nerves so go on y’all.”

“Just one peak.” Phil said anxiously

“No come on Phil.” Said Ismail pulling him away

“Baby, you ready cuz they all crazy.” Jack said about all your family and friends

“And my family hasn’t come yet.” You said rolling your eyes. They had a ways to travel from out of state but when your mother and Grandmother and aunties got there, it was going to be something else. Your daughter had no shortage of love.

“Did you see the way I cut the cord like a boss” Jack bragged.

“Hunny please.” Maggie said “You did nothing compared to Y/N.”

“Ok fair but I executed perfectly. She has a perfect lil belly button.” He beamed with pride.

“Jack.” You said faintly as you were now just too weak and falling asleep ready to go to your room and rest.

“Yes baby?” He said “You want me to take her so you can rest. I get it give her to me.” Jack said eagerly

“No, I want you to go, like can you leave please?” You said half smiling “like how turnt can you be right now. Just looking at you is making me tired.”

“Ok. I’ll chill out but let me take her please.” He said reaching down to scoop her up.

“Hunny hold her like this.” Maggie said “hold her head properly.”

“Mom I got it.” Jack said defensively

This was just the beginning of motherhood as Mrs.Harlow.

@okaaay-mice @itsyagirljaz @ride4harlow

#jack harlow #fanfic #jackman thomas harlow #romance #jack harlow fanfic #dramatic #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x reader #Spotify

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