#it feels so wrong for her to have golden hair like she's white blonde its canon. to me

[francy-sketches]

lmao I found a relic of my old joanna design with emo hair (that's how her grandkids got it) but it only exists in cat form

[delicatebarness]

i think he knows | prologue

Summary: Following the town's typical good girl, Reader, as she finds herself drawn to the trouble-making bad boy, Bucky. Much to the dismay of her protective golden boy brother, Steve.

Warnings: None I don't think for this one. If you believe there is any that I should add please let me know.

Word Count: 947

Masterlist | Next Chapter

A/N: Brooklyn isn’t New York Brooklyn, it’s just some random small town.

Tags: Let me know if you would like to be tagged for this series.

Brooklyn High School is the heart of the town. Nestled between white picket-fenced housing and greenery. It projected community pride and tradition. As did its golden boy, Steve Rogers, the star quarterback, captain of the basketball team, and straight-a student. His dedication to both sport and school made the town believe he could do no wrong.

Yet, behind the blonde hair and blue eyes, the facade of perfection was a protective older brother. Steve’s younger sister, you, was simultaneously his biggest weakness and most valuable strength. Everyone who met you loved you; A shining example of everything good and pure in the world.

Steve had a sense of pride swell within him, greeting his classmates with nods, smiles, and the occasional fist bump. It was evident how popular the eldest Rogers was by the turning heads and whispers as he walked by. He never took his eye off the ball, or you. Between the chaos of the hallways and Sharon’s daily routine of explaining her & Steve’s schedule of the day, Steve always made sure you got to where you needed to be. He guided you through the halls so you didn’t trip or bump into anyone while your nose was in a textbook.

Down the hall, Steve saw the one familiar face that he couldn’t bring himself to respect - James ‘Bucky’ Barnes. Bucky was the opposite of Steve, known throughout town as a ‘rebel without a cause’. Steve wore a varsity jacket, Bucky wore a leather one. Steve drove a car, Bucky rode a motorbike. Steve trained for football while Bucky smoked under the bleachers. Steve was in a loyal long-term relationship, Bucky wouldn’t keep a girl around for longer than 3 dates at the maximum. While making their way towards class, Steve noticed that something had caught Bucky’s attention, you. Bucky’s gaze lingered on you as you walked past the group he was standing with. 

Steve’s protective instincts kicked in, causing him to speed up. Pulling Sharon along with him, he shielded you from the brunette’s eyesight. Glaring back at Bucky, Steve gave a silent warning to stay away; causing Bucky to smirk back at the blonde before turning his attention back to his friends. Once around the next corner, Steve took the book out of your hand, breaking your trance. “Hey I was-” 

“Keep away from Barnes,” Steve cut you off while holding the book above his head, just like he used to do when you were children and wanted you to play sports in the garden. “I don’t trust him.” 

“Give it back, Stevie,” Using the nickname only you were allowed to use, you didn’t stop trying to reach your book, you cursed his height compared to yours. For many years you wondered where his side of the genes were from. You still remember the days when he had no muscles evident or even height; for a good year or so you were taller than him while being two years younger. Then one day, it was as if he transformed overnight. Suddenly, he was towering over you and looked like he had lifted weights every day of his life. You sighed when he gave you a stern look, knowing what he wanted to hear first. “I’ll stay away, we’ve never even crossed paths.” Satisfied that you understood, he gave you the book back before the three of you carried on with your journey to class. 

You walked the rest of the way with your book clutched to your chest, noticing all the boys in the hallway avoiding eye contact with you, you appreciated that books and studying let you escape that feeling. They helped you live a life you could only imagine having. A restless reckless life, no routine, no worrying about grades; even though you did enjoy studying and continuing to learn. The “good girl” image wasn’t something you planned or wished for, you just were. Since you were young, your parents would always say they didn’t need to worry about taking you anywhere. You were naturally polite, and well-mannered, often putting the needs of your friends and family before your own. 

~

By lunch, you realized that you truly understood Steve’s warning regarding Bucky. He had been playing with your thoughts all morning, distracting you from your learning. A teacher had asked what you would consider a simple question, the room expected your hand to go straight up into the air. However, you were too busy mindlessly doodling in your notebook. “Miss Rogers?” Your teacher had been calling, waiting for you to snap back into reality. She directed the question to you when you finally looked up at her. 

The embodiment of everything you were supposed to avoid, the bad boy, rebel, “low life” according to your dad. There still seemed to be something about Bucky that had you intrigued. Of course, Steve’s warning wasn’t the first time he had your attention, the town is small and people talk. You knew about the tall, leathered-up, rider and the things he got up to around town. All the girls wanted to date him, the majority got to, at least for one date anyway. Not you, you didn’t bother thinking about relationships while still in high school. You always said you’d wait until you're at college and haven’t got a personal guard dog scaring off anyone who tried. 

Looking up from your textbook that was laid down on the lunch table, your eyes met with him for a brief moment, your heart began to race. Had he been watching you the whole time? As if he could hear your thoughts about him, he began to smirk at you sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh, sh-”

[koji-haru]

As a dog returns to its vomit, so fools repeat their folly

[Another short story for Halloween! Finally got the time to finish this one, phew.]

He could feel a sharp pain…somewhere in his body, he wasn’t sure anymore. Pain was everywhere, and his head was fuzzy, everything was a cacophony of screams and everything crashing and falling apart, and the world was a messy blur of greys and blacks and gold, but most of all a sickeningly overwhelming amount of red. 

But things appeared to be getting better. The suffocating warmth all over him was subsiding as a certain kind of comfortable coldness overcame him, the heavy weight on his limbs appeared to ease down bit by bit, even the pain was gradually dissipating into the air. His body felt lighter as if it had been finally unchained from its millennia old prison. Floating higher and higher, away from all this chaotic mess.

“Nooo! Sir! SIR! Stay with me, sir! ADAM!”

And then…

And then…

…

“And then what happened?”

A bright light flashed before Adam, and when he blinked to adjust his eyesight, he was greeted with ruby red eyes heavy with concern, a delicate white-pale face with bright red cheeks adorning a slight frown, and silky smooth honey blonde locks. 

“Adam?,” Lucifer asked when the man didn’t respond and simply stared at him under some kind of stupor.

“He must have hit his head harder than I thought,” a smooth female voice answered. 

Adam turned to follow the source of the second voice and saw a tall, slender woman, with sharp eyes like that glistened purple jewels and hair that flowed like a golden waterfall. The ground beneath him felt soft to his skin, the light peeking through the foliage kissed him with warmth, and the songs between the trees calmed his mind in its tender embrace. Adam looked further beyond the two people beside him, and saw that he was somewhere where life was teeming unfettered by outside forces, safe and away from any danger. He was in paradise. Back at home.

“Hey, Adam, what’s wrong?” Lucifer placed a cool hand on Adam’s shoulder, a growing concern on his face. “What happened?”

“I�� huh??,” Adam wondered aloud, his brain currently feeling like mush. It felt as if trying to form even a single coherent thought was a herculean task for him. But even then, somehow it felt like he shouldn’t be here. As if—

A stinging pain erupted at the back of his head, his hair there suddenly feeling warm and moist. 

“Ow!”

“Lilith! Be more careful!,” chided Lucifer as he grabbed the red stained cloth away from the woman’s hand. “I’ll do it, and you can tell me what happened instead.”

Lilith leaned back on her knees, a hand under her chin as she carefully recalled the event that led to this. “Well, I was looking for Adam so that we could have lunch together as usual when I saw him climbing that tree.” She turned her attention to a bewildered Adam, who was still sitting speechless on the ground beside her. “I’ve told you time and time again to not climb that try. It’s enormous and full of weird twists and spikes, and it even oozes some weird goo. And now look, you slipped and fell.” Lilith glanced back up to Lucifer, and continued, “I called out for him to get back down but this idiot was too stubborn and ended up falling and getting caught in the roots. I had to drag him out.”

The fuzzy memory in Adam’s head was slowly clearing. He was doing that, wasn’t he? No wonder his head hurt so much. Just thinking was stinging his mind as if something sharp was poking and slicing pieces of his brain out. He should ease up a bit, yeah.

“Adam! You should’ve listened to Lilith. You know she only cares for you, she’s not trying to control you,” Lucifer reminded Adam as he gently cupped the first man’s face between his hands, pulling them closer to his. “Don’t go near that tree again, okay? It’s not safe.” 

Deep red eyes, silky like molten magma, stared straight at Adam's own golden ones, and he couldn’t help but nod and agree at the angel’s instruction. Swallowing the little bit of saliva in his mouth to relieve the dryness of his throat, Adam finally said something coherent, “Ah, uhm, okay, I won’t do it again. Sorry for worrying you both.”

Adam remained seated on the ground, as both Lucifer and Lilith had insisted, and watched the two from a distance gather today’s lunch instead. There was a dull, almost numbing, pain on the back of his head, though somehow it wasn’t something that concerned him at all. Lucifer had wrapped a cloth around his head, to stop the bleeding, apparently. Adam reached out to the back of his head and lightly touched where he guessed his supposedly injury was. Yup, there was a slightly stinging pain whenever he put some pressure on his head, though somehow, the sensation felt rather misplaced to him like the pain was real, just that it didn’t belong there. 

There wasn’t anything else for Adam to really do but to simply remain seated and wait, and allow the confusion in his mind to simmer and cook. Did he really hit his head that hard? Everything just felt so…distant to him. He could grasp and feel the soft grass between his fingers, he could feel the way the breeze carried away the heat on his skin, the songs of the birds definitely reached his ears. And yet, they all felt so far away from his grasp; so disconnected from him somehow. This kind of sensation, it was something he had never felt before. He felt so so lost; his grip on the blades of grass tightened, almost plucking them off the soil, the birds’ sweet chirps sounded more like a cacophony of deafening screeches, and no matter how cool the wind’s kiss was, sweat kept forming on his palms and forehead. It felt like he was in a spiral, a fast whirlpool that kept dragging him down deeper into dark depths. 

“Adam? Adam!”

Adam blinked and then Lucifer was back in front of him. His fingernails were covered in dirt and stained green, and there was a mess of loose soil and torn grass around him alongside multiple scratch marks. 

“There, there.” Lucifer pulled Adam towards him into a gentle hug as one hand rubbed his back to ease the tremors that overtook his body. “You poor thing, I’m here now,” he said as he placed a light kiss on top of Adam’s head.

“W-wha..? What’s happening?,” gasped Adam as he gripped onto Lucifer’s robe with trembling hands. Why was he shaking? And why couldn’t he stop it? It felt as if he had lost control of his own body as his limbs moved on their own and his mind reacted to things that weren't even there. 

Gentle, but firm arms held Adam even tighter as a mesmerising song pervaded the air around him, relaxing the tense muscles in his body and soothing the chaos in his mind. The sweet melody surrounded him in a comfortable embrace as he felt it kiss his eyelids shut until serenity claimed him. 

“That’s right, just fall asleep now.”

—-

The next time Adam opened his eyes, his head felt much clearer. It was as if a thick fog had finally been blown away. Adam rubbed the sleep away from his eyes, there was still a dull pain in the back of his head, but other than that, he actually felt much better like he was finally back on the controls. A strong hand helped him carefully sit up when he struggled a little to push himself up. 

“Oh good, you’re finally awake,” smiled Lucifer, still holding his hand, the other supporting his back. 

Adam looked around, he was on an oddly comfortable makeshift bed made of leaves, they were somewhere relatively dark, surrounded by rugged stone walls, some sunlight seeped through what he thought was the entrance. It felt…

“We brought you back to our cave,” Lucifer continued. “Seeing how you weren’t too well earlier.”

That was right. No wonder the place felt familiar to him, of course, he was just back to his cave that he shared with Lilith. Well, that should have been obvious to him quicker. 

“Apple?” Lucifer held a single red apple on his palm, outstretched towards him in an open offer. 

A low rumbling sound echoed in the cave, and Adam felt his face heat up as he gratefully accepted the fruit from Lucifer. “Thank you.”

The small fruit crunched under his teeth as its sweet juices coated his tongue and slowly satiated the hunger in his stomach. It was crisp and fresh, and perfect in every way as everything else in the garden, and yet, somehow there was something in the back of his mind that held back a bit every time he took a bite of the apple despite the almost painful hunger he felt in his stomach. Eventually, he put the half eaten apple down onto a small leaf basket beside, his body having decided to have had enough of it.

“Are you not hungry?,” asked Lucifer, red eyes almost glowing in the low light. 

“I am, it’s just that…I’m not really fond of apples,” replied Adam, pulling away from the angel’s hold. The cold touch made his skin feel itchy all over. 

“Hmm, I was sure you liked them though,” muttered Lucifer. “Oh well, more for me!” Lucifer reached over and grabbed the abandoned apple on the basket and took a bite off of it, the juices flowing down his chin, looking somewhat golden under the dim lighting. And were his teeth always that sharp?

“Lilith should be back soon,” said Lucifer between munches. “She should have other fruits with her.”

“Is Adam awake yet?”

Speak of the Devil’s wife first woman. Lilith’s form casted a long shadow into the cave as she entered, carrying with her a basket full of fruits. 

“Oh, it’s good that you’re up.” Lilith headed straight towards Adam, sitting just across his left. “Here, I got you some of your favourites,” she said as she pushed the basket forward to Adam. Inside were a variety of ripe fruits, from grapes and oranges to bananas and strawberries. 

Adam eyed the fruits handed over to him, they were all fresh and perfectly ripe, and were all of his favourites; it was obvious that Lilith had carefully taken her time to find food that Adam most preferred to eat. “Since when were you this nice to me?,” blurted out Adam, the words just naturally flowing out of his throat.

There was silence in the cave. One moment, then two, then finally, laughter bounced between the stone walls. Both Lucifer and Lilith’s laughter sounded throughout the entirety of the cave, making Adam shrink inwards to himself as he felt like he had said something completely ridiculous. 

“Oh dear, how hard did you really hit your head?,” asked Lilith between chuckles. Then, turning to Lucifer, she asked, “Are you sure you healed him properly?”

“I did! Really, I did!” Lucifer wiped the tears from his eyes, trying to control his laughter. “But I guess our dear Adam here is just as easily confused as always,” said Lucifer, his voice suddenly turning low and smooth.

That seemed to pull Adam out of his embarrassment, letting irritation take over instead. “I-I’m not confused!,” he exclaimed. “You never liked my company, you never cared about me! So I don’t know why you’re suddenly being overly nice to me,” he pointed accusingly at Lilith. He had always known that Lucifer favoured Lilith over him, but he didn’t like this joke at all, especially since it was made at his expense. They could play together all they wanted, but he wished they would at least leave him out of it!

The laughter that once echoed in the cave quickly subsided into an awkward silence with both Lucifer and Lilith exchanging glances between each other. Adam simply crossed his arms in a huff; there they went again, leaving him out of the loop. And while it was expected and he was used to it at this point, that didn’t mean that it stopped annoying him.

Lilith cleared her throat, concern heavy in her eyes and an awkward smile on her lips. “Why wouldn’t I care for you? I’m your wife Adam.” She reached out and tried to hold one of Adam’s hands, though he quickly pulled it away. 

“Come here Adam, let me take a look at you, maybe I did miss something,” said Lucifer as he gestured for Adam to come beside him. Again, his eyes appeared to glow slightly under the dim light, though rather than looking like jewels on rock, they felt closer to a predator lurking in muddy waters. 

And so, without a second thought, Adam got up and ran. Where would he run away to? He wasn’t sure, but he simply didn’t feel safe anymore in that cave with those two. He had no idea why he felt he needed to get away from them, Lilith was his equal and destined partner, and Lucifer was their guardian angel, there was nothing to be afraid of. But still, his instincts told him otherwise. 

Eve. Right, right. Eve, his actual wife, where was she? He needed her presence right now, she wouldn’t lie to him, make fun of him or betray him. Adam ran all over Eden, searching every tree, every cave from big to small, and even behind waterfalls to find his wife, and yet, no matter how thorough and meticulous he searched, he found no trace of her. Nothing at all. Not even a sign that she was ever in the garden, as if all traces of her were simply erased from existence. 

Eventually, Adam found himself back at the tree. Its twisted roots arching through the soil in gigantic curves and spirals. Its branches meandered through the air as hard spikes while a certain black liquid oozed from its every pore; thick and heavy, its smell pungent like misery. Adam felt it calling for him. To reach out, and allow its thorns to pierce through him and the black mess to swallow him whole. He felt his legs move on their own, closer and closer towards the twisted tree. 

“Adam!” 

A small hand grabbed his shoulder and quickly pulled him back and away from the tree. 

“Adam! What are you doing?!,” asked a frantic Lucifer as he shook Adam. “We looked all over the garden for you! And then to find you back here..!” Lucifer brought Adam closer into a tight hug as if afraid he would lose the first man if he let go. “Please, Adam, talk to us. What’s wrong?”

Not long after Lucifer had pulled Adam away from the tree, Lilith had arrived, gasping for air and out of breath. “Adam..!” Then she rushed in to join the two in a hug. 

Adam struggled and squirmed between their arms until finally he managed to slip away and push them from him. “Where’s Eve?,” he asked. “I looked everywhere for her, but I can’t–”

“Who’s Eve?,” asked Lilith, looking at both Adam and Lucifer.

Lucifer merely shrugged, seemingly just as confused as Lilith. 

“Eve? The second woman? My wife?,” Adam clarified. 

Hurt flashed in Lilith’s eyes before she looked away, hugging herself. “What has gotten into you, Adam?” 

“There’s no second woman, Adam. It’s just you, me and Lilith,” said Lucifer as he pulled a quietly sniffling Lilith close to him, to comfort her. 

Adam felt a tension on his legs. Either he was going to go off on another frenzied sprint or he was going to buckle under the stress that had been plaguing him since he first woke up after having fallen from that tree. 

Sensing that Adam was back on the edge, Lucifer lowered his voice and made himself appear even smaller, less threatening. “Calm down, Adam. Just talk to us. We’re not here to bring you harm, okay?” 

 There it was again. Red like molten magma that burned through Adam’s very being. Glowing slightly in the fog that slowly approached the three. And again, Adam couldn’t help but agree to the angel’s suggestion. With a shaky sigh, Adam nodded his head and quietly said, “Okay.”

—--

Adam was the first man, and the first human. Lilith, the first woman, was made shortly after him. Lucifer, an angel from Heaven, was tasked to monitor and care for them in the garden of Eden. The three of them got along very well. Adam and Lilith’s relationship was going well and strong, and even Lucifer was part of it too, though that was kept a secret from Heaven. 

Apparently. 

That was what both Lucifer and Lilith had told Adam when they all finally got back to their cave and talked. Lilith never left Adam for Lucifer, and there was no second woman named Eve. 

After essentially scavenging for traces of this ‘Eve’ and with how both Lilith and Lucifer both acted towards him, the explanation made absolutely, 100% logical sense. All evidence pointed to them being truthful. Adam didn’t even have the memory to argue against them. No matter how hard he searched his mind, he couldn’t form an image of this ‘Eve’ or what she was even like. Where did he even get the name? Or the idea of a second woman? That fall really must’ve scrambled his brain.

“I’m sorry,” said Adam, looking down at the bedding he was sitting on. “I–I don’t know what came over me.”    

“Did you hear whispers from that tree?,” inquired Lucifer. “Asking you to come over and be absorbed into it?”

Adam shook his head, “No, not really. It just felt like…it was calling to me.” He looked out towards the entrance of the cave, still feeling the tendrils of temptation caressing his brain.

Lucifer sighed, “Adam, you and Lilith were specifically asked not to even go near that tree for a reason. It’s malignant.”

Weren’t they told not to eat the forbidden fruit instead? Adam wanted to ask, but clearly that tree bore no fruits. And why would eating a fruit be dangerous anyway? A malicious tree made more sense, and now that he really thought about it, he did vaguely remember being told by the angels about the tree. 

“I’m sorry, I promise to stay away from it,” Adam reassured, though the look on both Lucifer and Lilith’s face told him that they were far from convinced, which was fair enough, considering the stunt he just pulled off. “Really, I mean it this time.” And he did; the tree was obviously dangerous, the injury on his head a literal proof. He would have to be stupid to go near the tree again.

—-

The days following Adam’s little accident had been rather calm and peaceful, with a few minor misunderstandings here and there mainly due to Adam’s poor memory. But that wasn’t too much of a problem, Lilith and Lucifer were always kind enough to remind him when needed. And really, Adam couldn’t find any fault with the way he was living right now, but sometimes, he just felt as if the two were too close to him. Their casual touches, lingering warmth, gazes that were held for too long. He knew there was nothing wrong with that kind of closeness, they were, after all, together, but…he just felt that he needed some distance from them.

And distance from them did he get. Adam made sure to wake up before the first rays announced the start of the day, carefully untangling both Lucifer and Lilith’s limbs away from his body as he silently slid down from between the two. Lately, he barely had the time to be by himself, with at least one of the two always sticking with him, apparently still worried and concerned about what had happened a few days ago. Everywhere he went, they also went. They would be there when he would first open his eyes, when he would gather food, when he would simply take a walk, and before he would close his eyes for the day. In his every waking moment, either of their presence would be with him. It was sweet, the way they care too much for him, but Adam was starting to get sick of it. It felt suffocating. So when he stepped out of the cave, and was greeted by the crisp morning air alone, he felt rather liberated as if finally released from his chains. 

Adam took a leisurely stroll by the riverbank, following its gently meandering curves down rolling hills. It felt nice. The early birds’ morning greetings, the pleasant trickling of water as it curved around rocks, and slightly chilly air that latched onto his skin. He could see, just past the riverbank, the forest tree line, a doe and her fawn, a bear climbing a tree to get some honey, a shapely woman with long wavy red locks, mushrooms sprouting from tree barks…wait. Adam froze in his tracks before quickly turning around and back to where he thought he had seen another person. There it was, a bit of red peeking through the forest’s vast green. 

“Hello?,” Adam called out, a little anxious. No response. He went further into the forest, pushing past thick branches that seemed to insist on blocking his path. “Um, I don’t think I–” He pushed past the last branch blocking his view and all he saw was a small tree with a pale trunk and bright red leaves, not another person. 

Oh. 

Adam rubbed his eyes with both of his hands, and it seemed that his eyes did deceive him the first time as a small red tree was still what stood in front of him. Perhaps the day was still a little too early for him. 

Regardless, his misperception wasn’t going to stop him from continuing his leisurely morning stroll. So, Adam turned back towards the riverbank and resumed to trail along the rippling waters. Though, the further along he went, the dimmer the day appeared. Wasn’t it supposed to become brighter? Even the quiet serenity from earlier had shifted to something a little more eerie. More and more red trees seemed to peek through the forest tree line as the air got heavier and thicker, sending freezing shivers down Adam’s spine. 

Then, something red appeared directly in front of him, glowing faintly in the thick fog. And before he knew it, something grabbed him by his shoulders.

“Adam..! Adam..!”

The fog cleared and Lucifer stood in front of him, shaking him slightly by his shoulders. 

“Lucifer..?” Adam slowly blinked. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean what am I doing here? Adam, you've been missing since this morning!” Lucifer pulled Adam into a tight hug. “I thought you were gone!”

Adam frowned, confusion evident in the furrows of his brows. “I was just taking a quick morning stroll along the river.” He turned to his left to point at the small river, but was met with dry, dead trees with no sign of a river nor was it early in the morning anymore. When did he stray away from the river? And how long had he been wandering? Out of the corner of his eye, in the distance behind Lucifer, he saw a gigantic tree with black twisting roots. The way its branches curved like hands urging him for a dance. 

Noticing the distracted look in Adam’s eyes, Lucifer placed a hand on Adam’s head, pulling his attention back to him and his sight away from that damned tree. 

“Let’s just go back, okay?,” he asked, looking Adam in the eye. 

“Okay.”

~

“Where’s Lilith?,” asked Adam as soon as they got back to the cave. The cave appeared to have way fewer items than before he had gone for his morning walk. 

“She’s with her husband,” Lucifer answered casually as he tidied up the place a little. “Why?”

Adam turned to look at Lucifer as if he had just said the most ridiculous thing ever, which at this point was for Adam. “Her…husband?,” he asked slowly, unsure if he had heard Lucifer correctly the first time.

“Yeah, her husband, the second man Evan,” Lucifer replied before looking up to face Adam. “Are you okay?”

No. Adam was not okay. Not. At. All. 

“Uh…since when..?,” Adam asked with a shaky breath. 

Lucifer dropped a wooden carving of a duck from his hand and quickly strode over towards his husband and held him steady. “Hey, hey, what’s the matter?”

Adam could feel his breathing become shallower, the space around him seemed to twist and swirl, and narrowed around him, the ground floating and becoming more distant from him. What was happening? Everything felt so wrong. The last few days he experienced and remembered…where did they go? His head hurt. His head hurt so much. The pain kept growing and growing and—

—-

The next time Adam opened his eyes, his head was lying on Lucifer’s lap, his husband. 

“Oh, you’re finally awake,” Lucifer smiled as he gently brushed Adam’s hair with his fingers. 

Adam couldn’t help but lean into the touch. The repeated slight pull on his scalp simply felt nice, like an invitation to soft cloudy dreams. He released a contented sigh, his eyes feeling heavy again despite only having woken up.

“Now now, it’s about time you got up,” Lucifer chuckled. “Come on.” He shuffled slightly as he helped Adam up from his lap. “Apple?,” he offered, a shiny red apple in his hand.

“Thank you,” Adam reached out and grabbed the apple, biting into it. It had a delightful crunch between his teeth, sweet and fresh on his tongue, and filling in his stomach. How endearing. Lucifer always got him the best version of his favourites. His ever fawning husband. 

“What part of the day is it?,” Adam asked when he noticed that there was barely any light peeking into the cave. 

Lucifer glanced up and around contemplatively, fingers holding his chin, “Hmm, it should be late in the evening now, close to dusk.” 

“Oh. That late already?,” Adam wondered aloud. That meant he hadn’t done anything all day. He couldn’t have slept the whole day away, could he? But when he searched his memory for what he had done today, he came up with nothing. “Did…did I sleep the whole day away, Luci?”

“Yes, but you’ve been unwell lately, so that’s to be expected,” answered Lucifer.

That made sense, Adam supposed. He certainly felt much better now though, that day-long sleep providing him the rest he probably needed. Though, something did feel unwell, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. A sudden wave of exhaustion draped over his body as he tried to fish around his mind to figure out what was still bothering him. He dropped the apple he was holding and placed a hand over his mouth as a surge of nausea rose up his throat, leaving him trembling slightly.

“Oh dear, I think you’re still sick.” Lucifer spread his arms wide, head tilting back down to his lap. “C’mon, let’s get you some more rest.”

Adam slowly crawled back to Lucifer and placed his head back on his lap as he wrapped his arms around the angel’s waist, snuggling into his robe. He felt Lucifer’s feather-light touches on his head, brushing his hair gently as he untangled them one by one. Soon, a sweet melody echoed throughout the cave, bouncing between the walls and sounding like a choir of glistening night stars and gently trickling streams on a chilly morning. Adam had only recently woken up, but he could already hear sleep whispering in his ears calling for him to join them, and let it kiss his eyelids goodnight. And so, he did. He needed the rest anyway.

“Goodnight and sweet dreams, Adam.”

—-

Two days had gone by and Adam hadn’t yet ventured out far from the cave. Whenever he did so, a wave of weakness would come crashing down on him as if his body would only then suddenly remember that it was still unwell. Thankfully, Lucifer was never gone from his side for too long, otherwise he wouldn’t know what to do being holed up by himself in such a small space. 

Today too, Adam remained inside the cave, sitting by the entrance carving a little wooden ducky for when Lucifer would come back. Normally, the angel would've arrived about an hour ago, but he seemed to be quite late today. Maybe Heaven had given him a lot to do today. Adam placed the carving tools and the wooden ducky down, sighing discontentedly. The more he idly waited around, the more restless he got. As the first man, Adam was meant to explore and discover new things in the garden, not be huddled up doing nothing in one spot. 

Well, if anything, he could try again today. There was no harm in trying.

Adam slowly stood up, arms stretched out and ready to grasp onto anything in case he ended up tripping. A step, then two, then more until he was a good distance away from the little cave. The expected nausea never hit him. Adam grinned from ear to ear, his heart beating fast from excitement and joy. He was finally healthy again! He flexed his toes, feeling the softness of the grass beneath him, the air had never smelled so fresh to him before, the flowers had never looked so colourful. This was more like it. Wild and free to roam wherever he pleased.

He wandered around, not really following any particular direction. Wherever he went, animals greeted him with head bumps, playful nudges, settling on his hair; others even trailed behind him for a while. It seemed that the garden’s other residents missed him just as much as he missed them. 

The squirrels hopped alongside him, chasing fluttering butterflies; birds flew past him as they circled around each other; foxes skittering between his legs, some others bumping into him and pushing him forward. A skip and a hop and dancing around small streams and rocks and branches, Adam followed along the wave of animals around him, joining them in their little playful dance. 

Adam took another step forward, and maybe he misjudged his step, maybe it suddenly breached the soil, but this time his foot got caught on a large root sending him to fall towards the ground and onto something viscous. A thick black liquid coated his arms and torso, with some splattered on his face as well. When he looked back up, the animals had all scampered away into the thick fog that had now surrounded him. A heavy gloom hung in the air as the fog masked the landscape he was currently in, with the only hint being the withered ends of scorched trees peeking through the ominous grey around him. 

Pushing his hands against the puddle he fell into, Adam tried to get back up again and get away from this place, and yet he remained stuck on the spot. The root he had tripped over had suddenly grown more in the short time since he fell; it now wrapped itself around his ankles, chaining him into the ground and deeper into the puddle of black goo. Adrenaline rushed throughout his system as panic invaded his thoughts. He shook and pulled and twisted his legs in his struggle to escape the root’s tight grip. Eventually, a crisp crack rang into the chilly air, the root having been broken by his efforts. 

Once free, Adam rushed back up, and simply ran. Which direction? He didn’t know and he didn’t care, he simply needed to get away from the place. Though, the more he ran, the colder the air felt against his skin, and the thicker the fog became to the point that Adam could barely even see his own hands in front of him. But he kept running and running until he bumped into something large and rough, and fell onto his rear. In front of him was the very tree that appeared vaguely in his memories and dreams, whispering promises of knowledge and wisdom. He could feel the tendrils of temptation slithering into his mind, groping around his brain in search of something. 

Adam quickly turned around, he had learned his lesson, nothing good ever came from interacting with that cursed tree. But what greeted him was a group of twisted trees that twisted and merged together into a prickly amalgamation, acting as an impenetrable wall that caged him together with the enigmatic tree. 

Soon, the wall of interlocking branches twisted some more and crept closer forward, pushing Adam further into the centre until he had nowhere else to go but beside the massive tree. A sickening crunch echoed in the air as the tree ripped itself open in half, a rush of viscous black liquid gushing out and a putrid smell of sulphur permeated the atmosphere. A hellish heat spread throughout the area, igniting some of the branches on fire, like fiery red eyes surveying a caged animal. Adam turned around and faced the gaping hole in the tree. The black goo shiny like a mirror, whispering to him to come closer.

Come.

Take a look and see.

The truth is within your grasp. 

Adam listened to the whispers, and took a small step forward, leaning forward into the hole. On the shiny black surface, he saw himself. Golden eyes that glowed faintly, his skin looked…pallid, large dark horns curved from his head, and his chest had multiple scars focused on a specific area. 

A sharp, stinging pain suddenly erupted from his chest. And when he placed a hand over his chest, red liquid coated his hand, and more flowed out of him. He looked back up to the hole within the tree, and saw a blood red sky, a city of corrupted souls, and heavenly corpses feasted upon by beasts. 

The hole widened even further as more black liquid poured out; it was large enough for a person to fit through. Adam reached out, dipping his hand into the dark liquid. But in the corner of the shiny surface, was a reflection of fiery red eyes and three pairs of red-white wings. A freezing hand landed on Adam’s shoulder, pulling him back slightly. 

“Adam, you never listen, do you?”

[apoptoses]

Venice in winter is nothing compared to his homeland, but it’s still damp, oppressive. Outside the sky is a pale shade of grey and the wind must be blowing something fierce, as the little roundels of glass rattle in their iron panes.

But Bianca’s chambers are a hot house. Heat crackles in the fireplace, from the candelabras that dot the walls and tables. Steam curls from the surface of her bath and Amadeo watches the way the wisps of blond hair that surround her face curl with it. She tips her head back against the rim of the tub to look at him. Her cheeks are flushed as rose petals when she smiles, gone pink from the steam.

“You’ve made a terrible mess of my bed,” she says.

And so he has. Having no spare clothing here he’s had no choice but to yank the velvet covers free and wrap himself in them. He’s lying the wrong way, his feet peeking out near the head of the bed. He pushes them into a pillow and grins behind the auburn curtain of his hair.

“And what of it?” he asks.

“Does your master let you get away with such things?”

“No. He beats me terribly. I’m a victim of his punishments almost nightly.”

Bianca rolls her pretty blue eyes. “And you enjoy it, don’t you?”

He does. But she needn’t know that.

This room with all of its delicate things- perfume bottles, silk ribbons draped across her vanity table, Bianca’s little shoes and her combs for her hair and her vases of flowers- it’s not the place for that sort of talk. It’s like being inside a jewelry box. Like being beneath the sea, with the way the steam has collected on the windows and left them shimmering and wet.

Bianca toys with the golden end of her braid, searching it for split hairs. The pearl strands woven into it click softly as she twists and turns her hair.

Amadeo lives in a beautiful palazzo of unruly boys. He sleeps in his master’s strong, imposing bed. He’s been to brothels of all sorts, enjoyed their lurid sort of appeal but this place, this woman’s chamber- it holds such fascination. He watches her in awe as she lifts her feet from beneath the water, rests them on the opposite end of the tub, and he feels as though he’s under a spell.

“You look like a mermaid,” he mumbles.

Water runs down her legs. They’re pale, slender, and Amadeo wonders if he grasped her by the ankle if his fingers would touch where they encircle it. Pressed together as they are, water and soap bubbles clinging to her skin, they look like the appendage of a sea creature. If he blurs his vision the fine golden hair on her legs becomes scales.

“Oh?” Bianca flicks a bit of water at him. It lands on the tip of his nose. “And were I a mermaid what would you be? Some fisherman come to capture me? A prince lost at sea, desperate for saving like Odysseus? Come, wash my back and tell me.”

Amadeo rises from the bed. He leaves the safety of the blankets behind and drags her carved wooden stool over to the side of the tub.

Funny how they’re both naked and yet he feels all the more vulnerable for it. Bianca is otherworldly with her hair swept aside, her head tilted to expose the line of her throat, her shoulder. He takes the wet cloth, rubs the perfumed water into her skin, and wonders what a crude being he must be in comparison.

“Perhaps I would capture you and travel about with you, keeping you on display. I could charge a gold coin just to look upon your beauty,” he says. “You’d make me a rich man.”

He drags the cloth over the delicate ball of her shoulder. It’s white as a porcelain doll, soft in a way none of the other boy’s flesh is. Amadeo massages at her skin and takes in the musicality of her little groan.

“Mm, and would you keep me in a cage? Would you be a very strict master, one who never lets his little captive out?” she teases.

Amadeo nods. “A golden one, so that I might hand feed you through the bars. I could charge another coin for that, I think. Plenty of men would pay for the pleasure of passing you a little bite of fish.”

He washes her scapula when she leans forward, the ball joint at the base of her neck. Her breasts bob in the water, slick with soap, flushed pink with the heat,  and Amadeo can’t resist running the cloth over her clavicle. Down and down until his finger slides into the valley between them where her sternum rests. Her laugh vibrates beneath the bone as she slaps at his wrist.

It’s a half-hearted protest. Splashing just for the sake of getting him wet, and as Amadeo dodges her hand he pretends to accidentally grope her. The entirety of her breast nestles perfectly into his hand.

“You’re such a predictable boy. Would you have them pay to do this as well?” Bianca asks. Her voice rises into a gasp when he catches her nipple between his finger and thumb. “How many gold coins to molest your captive mermaid?”

She’s soft. Not like his master, who’s like caressing one of the marble statues that lines their courtyard. Bianca has warm breasts to squeeze, a roll of flesh that appears above her stomach when she sits hunched and naked like this. Amadeo rubs his palm over the swell of her stomach, his fingertips brushing the gold curls that cover her mound, and curls his other arm around her shoulders to clasp her wet back to his chest.

“None,” he says. “I wouldn’t charge them any, because this I would keep all for my own.”

The wind rattles the shutters of the palazzo. Rain lashes at the windows. It’s freezing outside but in here Amadeo is sweating. It trickles down his back as he grazes her thighs with his fingers. He’s damp under the arms, too warm from the fireplace, from his desire. Just like with his master, he feels monstrous from it. Lesser for the needy thing between his legs. An animal driven by lust.

Bianca struggles in his grasp. Not to get free, to rise up toward his wandering hand. But the position is awkward. Her ankles, perched as they are on the edge of the tub, they don’t give her enough leverage to lift her hips and so she’s trapped there; wiggling like a fish. Amadeo teases at the crease where her thighs meet. He traces it from knee to pubis and back again and listens to the quickening of her breath.

The cleft of her must be slick. She’s probably flushed pink down there as well but he can’t see it through the water, the way her thighs are clenched together.  But that’s alright. He’s submitted to his master, to the workers of the brothels. Amadeo’s not had anyone squirm for him and he’s finding he likes this game. Her shiver when he rakes his nails through her curls sets his blood alight.

He works his finger into the tight crevice where her thighs meet. He seeks out the sensitive nub between her legs and he knows he’s found it by the way Bianca tips her head back and inhales a sharp breath.

Amadeo tries to picture her as a sea creature. What folds she might have here, in this secret part of her. Whether she’d be warm inside or cold, slimy like the belly of a fish. He forces his finger further down through the squeeze of her thighs and teases at her entrance.

It’s torment, being outside of this bath, unable to plunge into her. In the excitement of the previous night he’d finished all too quickly, and it’s embarrassing, really. He’s dying inside to repeat his performance, to do better this time. But he owes her. Pleasure is the only way he can pay her.

Bianca’s hands grip his forearm like a vice. They’re slender, like a doll’s, and he likes to feel small but she’s the first to make him feel powerful. He rubs tiny circles at her and her nails dig into his skin. Glides his finger up and down and watches through the distortion of the water the needy thrust of her hips.

“Amadeo-“ she gasps.

Her knees fall apart. He clucks his tongue at her, stills his hand.

“You’re a mermaid, remember? Your legs should stay together, yes, like that.”

She lets out a whine, clenches her legs back into place. Amadeo touches her again, slow, teasing, and bites back a hiss when she claws at his wrist.

This is new, having someone fall apart in his arms. Taking her apart little by little with his fingertip alone is a rush that goes straight to his head. Like being drunk only better, because instead of a headache there’s a reward at the end. Falling upon her in her great golden bed. Or perhaps just the satisfaction of seeing her shake with pleasure. That alone might be enough.

The pearls in Bianca’s braid click when she tosses her head. Amadeo strokes her, up and down, again and again. Runs his finger along her folds and watches her toes curl at the edge of the bath. He presses at her entrance. Makes as if he’ll let his fingertip in and her toes point with anticipation. Then go lax again when he takes his fingertip away and seeks out the sensitive nub of her again.

“You’re a horrible tease,” she complains.

Amadeo laughs. “I’m your captor, aren’t I? It’s my right to tease. I trapped you for my own pleasure, after all.”

He traces a little circle over her clit. Bianca presses his cheek into the crook of his elbow, as though she means to hide her face.

“Most men would take their pleasure in other ways.”

There’s no hiding herself, though. Amadeo tilts his head, ignores the pain that comes with straining into such an awkward position, and takes in the way she’s panting. The rush of color to her cheeks, how she bites her lip when he touches just the right way. He keeps on that spot, repeats the motion, and he can tell by the way she squeezes her thighs that she’s squeezing tight on the inside too.

“I’m unlike most men,” he says, and kisses at her throat.

Her skin tastes like the perfumed water. Like salt because she too has begun to sweat. He rubs over and over, feels the rush of her pulse, and wonders if this is what his master feels with him. Whether making him squirm, helpless in his arms, makes him feel indomitable as well, and for a second he wishes he could rend her throat with his teeth. Amadeo wants to feel the stitch of her heart the way his master feels his whenever he bites into his flesh and takes his blood.

Slow circles. Over and over he spirals his fingertip. No change in the motion, no teasing now. There’s only one end to this and he means to achieve it as he drops kisses along her neck. Amadeo picks up his speed bit by bit until she gasps. There, there- the words are muttered out over the slosh of the bath, and he listens. Takes her advice even though his forearm is screaming at him, and-

Bianca kicks at the edge of the tub. Her cry sounds surprised, like she didn’t expect to be wracked with this much sensation, and she shakes with it. Her thighs squeeze so tight around Amadeo’s finger he couldn’t slip it inside her even if he wanted to.

And that’s fine. Good, in fact. This pleasure is for her sake and even if his cock is throbbing its need between his legs it can wait. Must wait, he decides. His master would scold him for taking her like a street ruffian not once but twice.

She’s lovely when she goes slack. Bianca’s hair is mussed from rubbing her face against his arm, a gold curl come free near her temple. Amadeo goes to tuck it back for her but she shakes her head.

“My hair will have to be redone entirely.” She plunges her wet fingers into his auburn hair and drags him down for a kiss. Her body is uncomfortably hot, sticky against his. “You’re right, you know.”

“About what?”

She nips at his lip, hard enough to leave it smarting. While Amadeo is busy rubbing at his mouth she rises from the tub like Venus from her shell. Arm covering her breasts, she reaches with the other hand and gestures for him to hand her a dry sheet.

“You’re like your master,” she says.

Amadeo cocks his head. He hands her the sheet without getting up from the stool, suddenly embarrassed of the thing throbbing between his own legs. He aches to throw her to the floor and take her.

“How so?” he asks.

Bianca enshrouds herself in white fabric. One neat movement, so well practiced that she hardly drips water onto the floor, and she’s perched on the edge of the bath rubbing herself dry. Arms first, then legs. She brings her ankle up to rest upon her knee and Amadeo can’t help but stare at the bone white jut of it. She’s pale as his master there. Her ankles never see the sunlight and so he can see the blue veins through her skin, and he wonders how they’d taste.

“Both of you are entirely unlike other men,” Bianca murmurs. Her foot with its pale sole, white as the belly of a fish, lands suddenly in Amadeo’s lap. She grinds her heel down and draws a gasp from him. “Now come to bed, Amadeo. I believe it’s time your captive takes her revenge. You’ll allow me some fun, won’t you? Before I release you back into the waters to swim home to your master?”

The pearls in her braid are loose. He ruts up against her foot and hears them rattle when she tosses her head back and smirks.

Amadeo is hooked. How easily he swings between such extremes. Misery and ecstasy. Dominance and submission. Shame and desire. He’s a being made of contradictions, and as he follows her to her golden bed he thinks he’ll do anything she wants so long as it keeps him here a moment longer. Safe from reality in her jewelry box room.

Safe from his sadness so long as he remains trapped in the net of want.

[kylobith]

LotR Week - Day 2 (12th Dec)

language | culture | beauty

Word count: 4,197

Under the burning afternoon sun reflecting upon the white city, Faramir emerged from the library, instantly shielding his eyes. Had he truly kept his nose buried in scrolls for so long? When he had entered, it was merely dawn, the palace still lulled in peaceful sleep. Constantly awoken by the tiniest noises and cracks from the hallways or outside, he had stirred out of bed and had decided to do what he did best in such irritating moments.

Studying.

Recently, he had found a plethora of reasons to delve into books again — not that he truly needed any — and learn as much as he could about a realm whose history and people that he admitted to not have paid heed to often enough.

Now that he and Éowyn were married, he felt a pang of guilt for not knowing more than he already did about her kingdom and her kin. Although they were to settle in Ithilien once their new home would be born from the ruins of a previous mansion, Faramir yearned to respect the customs of her land as much as his own within their household.

He was willing to compromise and demonstrate his sense of flexibility. Where their art of guest-receiving would align with Gondor’s standards, he saw no problem with providing a mixed education to the children he hoped to have and raise with her. Often had he pictured it; a blonde little being mounted on horseback with the poise of a court member of King Elessar’s entourage. The child would master Westron and Rohirric at equal level, speak Quenya fluently, and have at least some notions in Sindarin or Dwarvish tongues. They would be both wild and tame, proud of the two united banners of their bloodline.

Sensing that he was getting ahead of himself again, Faramir departed from the archives and set out for the citadel. As he paused to contemplate the breath-taking view upon the Pelennor, one which he should have long grown weary of, he found his mind drifting back to his research.

Rohirric. A language unlike any other that he knew or at least encountered, with its peculiar grammatical structure and malleable word order. For the first time in years, he was facing a barrier between the knowledge he sought and himself, as if the more he read about it and its phonetic system, the less he understood. It was as though he was grappling with a most complex device he needed to unlock, but missed the keys to access even the most basic notions of the dialect that she grew up speaking.

He had considered asking Éowyn directly to teach him, and the thought of having her sit him down at a table whilst happily scribbling away on a piece of parchment to also participate in the recording of Rohan’s oral culture sounded like the best way to ever spend time.

Faramir pictured her hardly-concealed impatience at his mistakes and his horrid accent, typical of beginners. How she would be unable to tame her reactions to spare his feelings, wincing whenever he would say something wrong or pronounced something to the point of complete incomprehension. And he would love every bit of it. She was Éowyn, after all. The fairest maiden he had ever beheld, the one who accepted his hand in marriage and shared his bed ever since the lavish wedding at Edoras.

But he meant for the whole learning process to remain a secret for now. It was all part of the grand gesture he wanted to make for her. He had already planned most of it. At sunset, he would take her to the garden in Minas Tirith, where he had held her hand for the first time. They would watch the golden and rosy hues of the evening sky from underneath the arches, and he would slip a carefully-picked flower into her luscious hair. Then, he would recite a love poem he would have written in her language, ending it with a simple sentence reflecting his adoration for her, and making a point of how beautiful she was to him.

If he finally managed to grasp the quirks of Rohirric, that is. Aware that each language reflects the culture of those who speak it, he needed to put himself in the boots of a Rohir, but he could not wrap his head around the way that they thought, the way that they felt and experienced the world around them. Something as simple as the subtlety of terms and the connotations of certain phrases eluded him.

He had seldom ridden through the plains and valleys of Rohan. Its landscape, although now somewhat familiar, remained a great mystery to him. Having lived all his life in Gondor, he had enjoyed the privilege of encountering visitors from nearly all over Middle-earth, engaging in hours-long conversations with them, but he had never known the challenge of settling down in a foreign land and immersing himself in another way of life. Faramir had offered to stay in Edoras until their Ithilien home was ready to welcome them; he would have gladly helped Éomer in his new role as king, to provide him with wise counsel and serve as mediation with Gondor.

But Éowyn had refused. While she was elated to have wed him in the heart of the colourful Meduseld, she was eager to start this new chapter in her life, to leave her past behind and begin her assimilation to Gondorian culture. Perhaps she was braver than he had ever been in this regard, he thought. There had been no hesitation on her part, and he had assumed that she would have wished to stay in Rohan longer in hopes to make a difference in the treatment of women. Or, more realistically, she would have barked at her brother until he would yield and introduce new laws while getting rid of archaic ones.

As he entered the Hall of the Kings, Faramir faced the two empty thrones ahead of him. Aragorn must be attending another council meeting in a different part of the citadel, he thought. It did seem rather strange to him that the hall was left vacant; what if somebody entered to beg for help? Would they even be heard?

A rustle coming from his right alerted him that he was not alone after all. Under the arches, studying one of the statues with passive interest, stood the king of Rohan himself, clad in his armour, yet comfortable enough to let his guard down.

‘Éomer, my brother!’ he exclaimed, walking up to him with a beaming smile and open arms.

The king pivoted and his stern expression softened upon seeing his sister’s husband. He indulged him to a warm embrace and patted the prince’s arm rather harshly, but the latter paid it no mind.

‘I did not know you were visiting!’ Faramir said, surprised to see him in Minas Tirith at all, especially in the empty hall. ‘Has anybody been notified of your presence? Have you been assigned quarters for your stay?’

‘Yes, yes, don’t worry. I wanted to enjoy a bit of peace before being swarmed with servants and diplomats.’

Faramir laughed and shook his head. He would have felt exactly the same way, had fate been different and had he become Steward in his father’s stead.

‘Does Éowyn know that you are here?’

‘Not yet. Ah, she will find out soon enough.’

‘Are you not eager to see her?’ he inquired, his curiosity piqued. ‘If you do not send for her, you know that you will hear about it until you are on your deathbed.’

Éomer laughed and responded with a simple shrug. Faramir invited him to his office so they could both sit down and share news of their respective lives. How things had changed! After the pouring of wine and the exchange of pleasantries, the prince noticed that he had left some of the borrowed scrolls from the library wide open onto the desk. Unwilling to stain them with spilled wine or ink, he began to roll them up again, but their content did not escape Éomer’s notice, who squinted at the writings.

‘That is Rohirric!” he noted with a pleased expression. ‘Are you studying our tongue, brother?’

Faramir blushed and sheepishly nodded his head. He hoped that Éomer would not start questioning him about his knowledge, since he still considered it to be awfully vague.

‘Indeed. I wish for our household to be shaped by Rohirric and Gondorian customs alike. Éowyn is my equal, she should not forsake her culture for my own, even now that she came to live in my land.’

‘How’s the learning so far?’

‘Not great.’

He placed the secured scrolls onto a nearby shelf, away from the dangers of clumsiness, and returned to his chair, picking up his goblet.

‘I cannot seem to wrap my head around the way that your people see and write about the world. Do you see the same things that we Gondorians do? Do you see the bud of a flower and feel the promise of a fruitful spring to come?’

Éomer snorted and chugged the rest of his wine in one, large gulp.

‘You are overthinking it, Faramir,’ he said in reassurance. ‘The Rohirrim are not as complicated as you think. We do not need a hundred words to describe a tree.’

With Faramir’s permission, Éomer helped himself to another cup, stretching out his legs in front of him.

‘See us as more… practical people. Where you might look at this desk and say “Here stands the pillar of knowledge, the support of my hours of contemplation and meditation, the theatre of my duty and of my wit, where justice is served and culture preserved,” us Rohirrim would just say…’

The king waved his hand with raised eyebrows towards the piece of furniture in brief silence.

‘“It’s a desk.”’

Faramir chuckled and sipped the deep burgundy nectar.

‘Well, you sound well-learned in Gondorian phrases and imagery,’ he teased.

‘That happens when your brother-in-law keeps pestering my men about lore, poetry and song whenever he visits Edoras.’

Their shared laughter fills the room and instantly brings more warmth to it. The new prince of Ithilien stared at his working table in deep contemplation and pondered Éomer’s words. It’s just a desk. And indeed, it was, but could there not be more to it?

There it was again, his damned eternal Gondorian perspective.

Faramir tapped his fingertips against his goblet and reclined in his seat.

‘What makes your people so practical indeed?’

‘You are asking the wrong person, brother. I can’t say that I have much interest in knowing about such things. But the way I see it, it has something to do with our lack of documentation. Our stories, our tales, our history… We share them orally. We don’t value written records the way that your kin do. I suppose that we do need to keep it simple so our message and our motivations do not get lost in translation and interpretation. Besides, we see beauty in simplicity.’

‘Is it so?’

It made sense to him. Éomer might not have been raised a scholar, but his argument seemed to have opened Faramir’s eyes to something he had never even suspected. Of course, he had forgotten about the risks of oral tradition! How many names, accounts and legacies had been misshapen by the trials of time? By the innocent romanticisation of narration at the detriment of facts?

Faramir drank his wine pensively and glanced at his guest. Perhaps he could let him in on his little quest. After all, Éomer was great at keeping secrets, and he spoke the language he sought to master.

‘Éomer, I wish to learn Rohirric for Éowyn. I want her to feel at home wherever she goes, and I want her to feel understood. I have been trying to teach myself in secret for weeks, but it seems that the more I learn, the less I know.’

His brother-in-law curved his eyebrows in surprise — although he did not expect any less of Faramir. The king put down his cup and opened his hands.

‘I am a warrior, not a scholar. But I suppose that if there’s anything you wish to know, perhaps I can help.’

His host beamed at the offer and put his cup aside as well. He grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, propping up the sheet on his knee with a thick volume on the history of scientific innovations of the Haradrim.

‘There is one notion that seems to differ much between our mentalities,’ he started, ‘and it is this of beauty. You said that your kin find beauty in simplicity, but what else? How do you express it?’

‘Oh, well, we feel connected to the earth and fire, where Gondorians evoke air and water to us. Any aspect of our world that we find attractive, we connect to these two elements. We like what is grounded as much as we like that which is fiery. Many of our sayings and expressions comprise these themes, when they don’t revolve around horses.’

Not wasting a single second, Faramir scribbles away, his brow furrowed in concentration. Earth. Fire. Noted.

‘Do you have vocabulary with elemental connotations to describe something you find pretty?’

‘Yes, we do,’ Éomer answers before marking a pause, seeking examples. ‘When we mean to say that someone is as beautiful as the sun, we say sunne fyrna. Burning like the sun. Like they radiate light.’

Rejoiced at the idea that he might have found something to use to compliment Éowyn, he continued to take notes, guessing the spelling from the rules he had read about.

‘Is it a powerful way to compliment somebody’s beauty?’

‘Yes, and no. It can be overused.’

‘Oh.’

Éomer chuckled and drank another gulp of wine, before scratching his beard. He pictured his sister and tried to imagine how she would like to be complimented by Faramir. Not how anybody else might, but which words she would value from his mouth. Then, with a smile, he held out his hand for Faramir’s quill, and his brother-in-law did not hesitate to lend it to him, alongside the parchment.

Not quite used to writing, Éomer’s trembling hand formed a few words onto the paper and showed it to his host.

‘This is the highest compliment that Rohirric women could ever hear. If you wish for Éowyn to fall for you all over again, this is your key. But let me warn you: do not blame me if her bairn sees the light of day nine months after you say it to her,’ he winked.

A few days later, once Éomer had departed Minas Tirith to return to Rohan, Faramir approached Éowyn and tenderly wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing the back of her head. Despite the tears of sorrow from seeing her brother leave again, she allowed herself to smile and turned in his embrace to place a tender kiss upon his lips.

‘How about you and I have a walk in the garden at sunset?’ he murmured, his fingers weaving through her golden hair.

‘I would rather stay at home, if you don’t mind,’ she said with a sniffle. ‘How about we sit by the fire and you read to me again? I love hearing you tell stories.’

Faramir’s disappointment was powerless compared to the thrill that invaded him to know that she enjoyed listening to his tales. So, he gladly accepted, but still took the time left that day to pick the most beautiful flowers at the market for her, as well as her favourite Gondorian pastries.

When the fire crackled in the hearth of their home, Faramir entered the room, finding her already nestled onto a chair, her eyes admiring the dancing of the flames. Éomer was right; the Rohirrim were particularly bound to this element.

And now, he found beauty in it, too. Perhaps not like a Rohir would, but he did.

He found elegance and refinement in the way that it illuminated her delicate traits, her chiselled cheeks and the lovely dimple on her chin that he so often kissed. In its halo, the fairness of her hair glowed and radiated like the summer sun and the bright moon had come together in one. Her thin, pale hand rested onto her lap, only adorned by her wedding band. It was the perfect image; the love of his life in the firelight, making him fall head over heels all over again.

Faramir stepped inside ever so calmly, holding the flowers in his hand. Éowyn, alerted by the soft footsteps, turned to him and instantly smiled.

‘Fari, are those for me?’

He nodded, mirroring her grin and brushing his fingertips against her cheek. He came to one knee before her, admiring her with the most loving eyes that any being would be graced with.

‘Beautiful flowers for my most precious lady. My gorgeous wife.’

She chuckled and leant closer to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him into a tender kiss. Then, she took the flowers and admired them with her lips parted in awe.

‘They are perfect! Thank you. Let me find a vase for them.’

‘Do this, and I shall find a book for us to enjoy.’

They parted ways with another kiss and joined again after a few minutes. Faramir sat on the chair by the fireplace and patted his knee. Éowyn kicked off her slippers and sat in his lap, tying her wrists around his neck and resting her head in its crook. He opened the book and proceeded to read a tale of romance, the type that they had both come to appreciate more ever since their first encounter.

As he spoke the words in his solemn and affectionate voice, his eyes losing themselves in hers every so often, she felt her heart slowing down. Passion that causes one’s heart to race at the sole sight of one’s lover sure is pleasant; but to her, there was much greater satisfaction in finding a person with whom one feels so at ease and at peace that their heart would feel tranquil at last.

When the story came to a close, Faramir felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. Now was the time to surprise her. He had written the poem with Éomer to help him translate his feelings in the Rohirric tongue, and his brother-in-law had provided with ample wordings and phrases for him to convey his affection for his wife.

But now that he had to recite it, he found himself at a loss. None of the words remained within reach. They eluded him every time that he thought he could reshape one of the verses. Oh, what to do?

Well, he would have to do what he always did in unforeseen circumstances as a Ranger. Improvise. At the very least, he could remember the loose vocabulary. He could manage to simply tell her that she is beautiful. That was easy.

Closing the book and placing it on the rug, Faramir held his beloved wife’s hand and stroked its smooth skin. Lost in her deep eyes, he let the words overcome him. He let them invade every piece of himself that was not already conquered by the sight he beheld.

‘Éowyn,’ he intoned with a lovestruck voice, ‘leofest wife min, is éosgitan prættigre thonne thé.’

Éowyn froze, her eyes round as marbles and her jaw slacked. Faramir beamed with pride at the sheer surprise upon his wife’s face. But when her bewilderment turned into a deep frown, his exaltation swiftly came to an end.

‘Did I mispronounce something?’

She blinked a few times before rolling her eyes to the ceiling with a groan. The tension in her shoulders decreased, until she met his gaze once more.

‘Did Éomer teach you this?’

‘Well, yes. I have been studying Rohirric for the past weeks, but I needed his help. I wrote you a whole poem, but as soon as I looked into your eyes, I… I could not retrieve the words and I felt rather foolish. So, I used the other words he taught me to compliment your beauty.’

Faramir ran a hand through his hair, rather embarrassed. Surely, if this was her reaction, he had done it all wrong.

‘Was my pronunciation that horrendous?’

Éowyn laughed and pecked his cheek.

‘No, my love,’ she consoled him. ‘If you need advice about learning Rohirric, here it is: never trust Éomer. What he taught you means that horseshit is prettier than me.’

‘Oh. OH. No, no, this was not my intention at all! I…’

‘Calm down, Fari. I figured as much.’

He sighed in relief and wrapped his arms around her waist.

‘Why would he do such a thing?’

‘He’s a big brother. That is what big brothers do.’

‘Boromir never…’

‘My love, from all the things I have heard about him, I can assure you that Boromir was no typical older sibling. Siblings bicker, they fight over the pettiest thing. Éomer and I often shouted death threats to one another!’

Faramir blanched and shook his head in disbelief. He could not fathom Boromir ever uttering such calamities to him. But come to think of it, his father had done that aplenty in his stead.

‘I see. Well… I apologise for my words. I never meant to insult you.’

‘I know, Fari, you do not need to reassure me. Take it easy on yourself. Éomer took advantage of your cluelessness about our tongue to trick you. In a way, I think it comforts me into thinking that he sees you as his brother now. Not only did he gratuitously insulted me through you, but he also played a trick on you to embarrass you without harm.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘Oh, yes. He would not do that to just anyone.’

The pair exchanged a loving smile and indulged into a slow kiss. When their lips parted, Éowyn instantly forgot the incident and traced his jaw and chin with the tip of her nail.

‘So, you said that you are learning Rohirric? Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I wanted to surprise you. I wrote a poem in your language for you, and I meant to recite it in the garden at sunset. But since you preferred to stay at home, I wanted to pronounce it here instead. Again, I forgot all of it. But I have it written in my office. Now, I do not know how much of it I can trust.’

‘You had Éomer translate it with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Expect the lewdest things, then. But I will read it, if you allow me. Perhaps he did grow some common sense and actually did a good job. You can never know, with him.’

She peppered his face with kisses, causing him to blush and giggle. Oh, how he loved it when she made him drop his guard and made him giddy with the simplest of gestures. None other could bring him to such heights.

‘Min se swetesta sunnan scima,’ she murmured into his ear.

‘Wait,’ he exclaimed, perking up. ‘Sunnan… It is the sun, is it not?’

‘See? You know more than you think.’

Faramir grinned from ear to ear in victory. At last! He had understood a spoken word! He felt like a child whose arrow reached the target for the first time. It did not matter whether he did not hit bullseye; he had reached it.

‘But what does it mean?’

‘It means “my sweetest sunbeam”. And seeing you now, I believe that it could not fit you more.’

He chuckled and cupped her face, gently tracing her cheekbones with his thumbs.

‘What word is there in the Rohirric tongue to describe what I feel when I see you?’

‘Your words were spot-on.’

‘Come on,’ he playfully groaned, rolling his eyes. ‘You know that I was the mere victim of a crude trick. I want, no, I need, a word to express the fact that you are my most precious treasure. A gem I shall never tire to behold. One I seldom dare to touch with my rough fingers out of fear that I might shatter you.’

Éowyn flushed red yet did not avert her gaze. She stroked his hair and sighed.

‘Sincroden.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Sincroden. It means “treasure-adorned”. Many maidens of the Rohirrim dream to have a man address them as such.’

A shy smile played on his lips as he registered the information. He shifted a little on his seat and, sensing her slipping off his lap, he held her knees firmly and pulled her back onto him, pressing her to his chest.

‘Sinchroden wife min.��

The twinkle in Éowyn’s eyes betrayed the bursting joy within her thundering heart. Once again, she bestowed him with a most tender kiss, and none of them let go for the rest of the evening. Clad in the flames’ cast orange hues, they no longer needed words to convey their devotion to each other. They spoke the universal and unspoken language of bewitched hearts, eyelashes grazing their cheeks and the caress of their mouths the only syllables they required.

[alyofraventree]

The Raven and Little Lady

a starter with @jaehaera-targaryen11

The sun had begun its rise over King’s Landing, casting a golden hue over the Red Keep. Alysanne stood at the edge of a balcony, taking in the site of the city below her. The air was filled with the smell of the city mixed with the salt of Blackwater Bay and this distant hum of city life. This new world was a far cry from the ancient woods of Raventree Hall, where it felt like the whispers of the old gods still lingered. Here, everything seemed brighter, sharper, and, in its own way, more dangerous. 

Alysanne shifted her gaze from the bustling city to the training yard below, where knights and squires were already hard at work. She could feel her fingers itching for the familiar weight of her bow, but such training would have to wait until later. Here, she was expected to wear silks instead of leather. At least while she did enjoy a good sword fight, after years of mending her own clothing, her needle skills were not lacking. It had been a saving grace for her integration into courtly life. 

She had faced many challenges in her twenty-one years, but now she found herself in a brand new predicament - navigating the delicate social world of the royal court and, more pressingly, trying to win the favor of a ten-year-old princess. Aly had grown up mostly along side her much other brother and her nephew, and the way of most young girls were as foreign to her as the Dornish deserts. And both were things she wished to know more about. 

Damn it! Why was this so hard? 

She could face down a charing boar, but the idea of making small talk with a little girl had on more on edge.

The soft rustle of fabric drew her attention, and she turned to see the Princess Jaehaera standing in the doorway. The young girl, with her white blonde hair and violet eyes, looking both delicate and intense. Alysanne felt a pang of uncertainty. She may have been known for her fearlessness and desire for adventure, but if ever those traits were useful while being a lady in waiting, it would mean something went very wrong. 

Aly swallowed her nervousness. She had never been particularly “ladylike,” and she was worried that her rough edges might put off the young princess. Yet, she did desperately want Jaehaera to like her. She had heard of the girl's sweet nature and seen the smile on Helaena’s face when she talked about her precessus daughter. She had heard of her love for history and dragons, causing Alysanne to spend some time in the shelves reading as if preparing for a test from a maester. She had even spent some time with the ravens of the weirwood, listening for bits of gossip. 

Alright, don't mess this up, Alys. Keep it simple. Keep it safe. And try not to swear like a damn sailor.

“Good morning, Princess Jaehaera,” she said, her voice steady but warm, or at least she hoped it was. “Your mother has asked me to keep you company today.” 

After a pause and a slew of swears that sang through her mind, in the worry that she had somehow already messed up, she tried to remember the advice given to her by Lady Helaena. “I brought some sewing supplies. I used to sew my own clothes back at Raventree Hall. Perhaps we could work on something together? Recently I have been trying to add details to a gown that show some old Blackwood legends.”

She motioned towards a nearby table, where needles, thread, and fabric lay. This included a black dress with a trim of fallen red weirwood leaves, telling the story of the poisoning of the Raventree Weirwood.   

a starter with @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood

[reverend-dog]

Legacy

Taima didn’t really know what the bottom of a birdcage tastes like, but she was blessed with a vivid imagination. She dragged in a breath and coughed, and recoiled from the stench of her own breath. “Drinking games are stupid,” she muttered, and wished she had listened to that advice earlier. She shook her head, both in disgust with herself and in an effort to clear her mind.

Her hair slapped her cheeks like nylon rope. She grabbed a lock in one hand and brought it in front to riddle the reason. Some sort of dark, stiff crust coated the strands and fused them together. But in the next instant, Taima forgot all about her distressed coif in favor of the sight before her.

She recognized the costume first. Who wouldn’t? Barely a week went by that the red, black, and gold unitard with complementary boots and cape didn’t show up on the news, or on somebody’s channel. Usually the images were blurry, with just the colors visible, but Exemplar gave enough interviews and photos with fans to be instantly familiar. Ten years since his first appearance, never a hint of scandal, hailed as one of the greatest heroes, even by some of his enemies.

But Taima guessed that not nearly as many people had ever seen him like this.

Exemplar’s eyes and mouth gaped, though a more accurate description of his eyes would be the sockets gaped where the eyes should have been. One side of his cowl was torn, and cracked bone gleamed where the scalp beneath was likewise shredded. His left arm twisted behind him in a way that meant a dislocation at best. The right arm was nowhere in sight. His chest, with the stylized image of a shield, curved inward like a tire with the air let out. Both his knees bent the wrong way, and one boot was missing. Of his cape, the billowing golden expanse of fabric, only a few short, ragged strands remained.

And the blood. So much blood. It gathered in a dark crust around Exemplar’s eyes and mouth, but the puddle under him was large enough to still be liquid. Spatters made gory graffiti on the alley walls, and a flash of insight told Taima what it was that made her feel so filthy as well. Looking down, she confirmed the spatters and streaks that covered her. She rolled to hands and knees as her stomach rebelled, and spilled its contents to mix with the grime and carnage.

“A witness,” purred a voice behind her. “Perfect.”

Dry heaves prevented Taima from answering, or even lifting her head to see who spoke. A giant hand reached under her to wrap around her neck, and dragged her into the air. She clawed at the fingers with both hands, both in an attempt at defense and to keep from choking. A face appeared inches from her own, one just as well-known as Exemplar, but for opposite reasons.

“I’m not going to harm you,” he offered reassurance, his smile dazzling in an uncannily handsome face. His white costume with golden armor accents had never gathered the slightest smudge, and his long, blonde hair always fell past his shoulders in perfect waves. “You know who I am. Say my name.” He loosened his grip on Taima’s neck just a touch.

Though terror seized her heart and twisted her gut, Taima found her voice. “M-Morningstar,” she mumbled.

Morningstar nodded, his smile even wider. “Very good,” he praised, then looked Taima over. “Oh dear, I hope none of that blood is yours, is it? What were you doing here?” He pulled her closer and sniffed, then nodded. “Ah, I see. One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor, right?” He shook his head and tsk’ed. “Alcohol is bad for you, especially in large quantities.”

“Important safety tip,” Taima choked around his grip. “Thanks, Egon.”

Morningstar chuckled. “Though in this case it’s serendipitous. Now, listen closely. You have a very important assignment.” He extended the arm from which Taima hung, and held her over Exemplar’s body. “Take a good look. Do you have a phone? Take some pictures. You’re going to be my Gabriel. You’re going to tell everybody that their beloved guardian is dead, and how he died. You’re going to make sure the world knows his blood is on my hands.” He chuckled again. “So to speak.” He pulled Taima in close again. “If you don’t, I will find you. And after I do, nobody will ever find you again. Tell me you understand.”

Taima fought to keep her face from showing her revulsion. She thought her breath smelled bad? Morningstar’s somehow managed to outdo it, a pointed counter to his perfect looks. Her head felt light, not quite attached to her neck, and very fine needles seemed to poke her all over. Her eyes felt hot. Was this strangulation? “I – understand,” she managed.

“Excellent!” Morningstar pronounced with another smile. “I’m going to set you down now, and then I’m --”

What he meant to do next would forever remain a mystery. A strange warmth bloomed within Taima, starting between her chest and abdomen, then spreading through her in a rush that made her gasp. The blood that drenched her soaked into her skin, like sweat in reverse. Pressure built in her eyes and released, and through a golden tint she saw Morningstar’s head throw back, face stretched in surprise and pain. His grip on her throat released, but she did not fall. Taima looked down, and gaped at the distance between her feet and the ground, and the force that radiated from her to keep her aloft.

Morningstar staggered backward to fetch up against a concrete wall with a solo of growls and moans. Composure lost, he stared at Taima, perfect features grotesque. “What is this?” he spluttered.

“I don’t know,” Taima told him, “but you’re not going to like it.”

[ninazadzia]

One Night In Santorini, By Ninazadzia

Summary: They were colleagues. Yelena Belova was his teammate, first and foremost. She was not a romantic prospect for him, never had been, and never would be. But Bucky couldn't deny what was right in front of him. "What happens in Santorini stays in Santorini, as far as I'm concerned." T for swearing/sexual innuendo. Bucky/Yelena.

Here’s an excerpt:

As it turned out—Yelena liked red wine.

“You look nice,” he managed, as she walked up to the table.

She threw him a wink, and sat across from him.

He had to admit—when he tasked Yelena with finding civilian clothing, he didn’t think she’d take that to mean dressing like a literal Greek goddess.

She’d taken her blonde hair out of its usual braids, which had dried into fluffy curls over the course of the afternoon. She wore a billowing white maxi dress and golden sandals. Her dress had halter straps and a plunging neckline, and from what he could tell, an entirely open back. He tried his best not to stare, but if her goal was to show off her figure, she’d accomplished that in spades. 

In the time they’d been working together, he tried his best not to think of Yelena Belova in that way. They were teammates, colleagues—never mind the fact that she was an objectively attractive blonde woman. They could never “go there,” as far as he was concerned, so the less he thought about it, the better.

Still though. As she leaned over the table to get a better look at the menu, James couldn’t help but think, there’s a reason you’ve kept her at arm’s length. 

It was true. Of all of the Thunderbolts—Alexei, Ava, Antonia, John, everyone else he’d gotten to know these last few weeks—he’d gotten to know Yelena the least. He made a point to spend as little time alone with her as humanly possible—so much so that their interactions that afternoon was probably more than he’d talked to her than all of their previous exchanges combined.

Yelena, astutely, clocked this. “So. If there was ever a time for us to bond, James, this would be it.”

He sighed, and took a sip from his wineglass. “You’re right. I’m sorry about that.”

“Let me guess.” His stomach dropped as he waited for her to continue. “This has to do with the fact that you knew my sister, and you two didn’t exactly get along.”

He had to stop himself from breathing a sigh of relief. He cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t even say that I really ‘knew her’ all that well. I mean we worked together a few times, but still—Natasha and I never really talked much.”

Yelena slowly nodded, and then narrowed his gaze at him for a moment, not saying anything. James picked at his calamari, and it slowly dawned him that he might’ve just made a mistake.

“Okay then,” she said, softly. “What did I do wrong?”

He looked up from his plate. “What do you mean?”

Yelena’s blue eyes were glassy, as if she were fighting off tears. She let out a hollow laugh. “I mean we’re on the same team, we’re fighting the same enemies… John, Ava and Antonia, none of them have any reason to be friendly to me, but I know all of them way better than I know you. And every time I try to talk to you, I just, I feel like you just push me away.”

Bucky softened his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was doing that.” 

He was lying through his teeth, and she knew it. She rolled her eyes. “Oh, cut the shit, James. Of course you were. So if it isn’t because of Natasha, and if wasn’t something I did, then please, tell me whatever the fuck it is that’s made you so damn antisocial towards me, specifically.”

He’s taken aback by how angry she is—although, realistically, he shouldn’t be. She’s right, and he knows it.

Tell her the truth.

He tries his best to drown that voice out, the one in his head telling him to tell her exactly why she’d been kept at arm’s length, why he wouldn’t dare allow himself to get to know Yelena Belova. 

Truthfully—his resolve was waning. And it was getting all the more tempting to rip that bandaid off, and to tell her the truth.

You can read the full thing here. 

[practically-an-x-man]

So... I rewatched Pixar's Brave, and I got a huge burst of writing inspiration for a scene toward the end of Ellis' story

Essentially, the government finally catches on to Ellis, and they trick Gabi into telling them an angel's one weakness (it's decapitation). By the time Gabi realizes what she's done, they've already taken Ellis.

Ellis is almost out of angelic power, and their transformation has taken its toll on their body. They can't fight back, not without risking everything. The government agents take Ellis to a secure base, awaiting interrogation.

Gabi, fearing the worst (since she told them how to kill angels) gets her best friend/crush Sonia to drive her to the military base where they're keeping Ellis, and they surprisingly manage to sneak in undetected and free Ellis.

Unfortunately, on the way out, things go horribly wrong.

Just before they're able to escape, one of the guards shoots Gabi in the heart. She's dying, and it'd take nothing less than a miracle to save her- one Ellis might not have enough power to give.

Risking their life, sanity, and identity, Ellis crumbles to the ground, shielding Gabi and Sonia with their wings. They push their last bit of angelic power into Gabi, hoping that maybe, it'll be enough to save her life.

Instead of becoming fully demon, something else happens. Ellis, as the first angel to feel actual love since... well, the Stone age about, (platonic, not romantic, Gabi and Sonia are endgame lol) starts to change. Their angelic features are restored, but rather than looking like they did when they first fell, they have six wings instead of the regular two, and their hair is bright white instead of golden blonde.

They've become a Seraph, the first to ascend since the angels detached from humanity and human emotions.

This... does not make the other angels happy, to say the least. But that's another arc, one I'm still figuring out.

That's epic! So intense!

Thank you for sharing!

[blondrichclosetwitch]

Your eyes couldn't hide anything

You were wrong when you said everything's gonna be alright

You were right when you said this is the end

You lie for a moment, you lie as a decoy

Sittin on the stand with no remorse

Be creepin wit mad demons

Blood rushin, concussions

Y’all can’t see this but this might be the night

Chloe don’t know better, Chloe’s just like me

Dreams like this must die

And everyone has a heart and it’s calling for something, and we’re all so sick and tired of seeing things as they are, and everyone is hidden and everyone is cruel, there’s no shortage of tyrants and no shortage of fools

And the little white shape dancing at the end of the hall is just a wish that time can’t dissolve at all:

“Well, there are some things too hard to explain but my baby’s coming home.”

And I realized

How many paths have crossed between us

This story is old, I know—but it goes on

Sounds like today’s a good day for a tape

It seems to make you laugh each time I cry

Annie

Well its been ten years or maybe more since I first laid eyes on you

Come and play the tunes of glory

Raise your voice in celebration

And learn the meaning of existence in fortnightly instalments

Come share this golden age with me in my single room apartment

Oh and I could be a genius if I just put my mind to it

Now they expected to control us (these aren’t the words but they’re what I thought the words were for 30 years )

“Oh, come on make it up yourself. And I promise I won't tell this to anybody else in the world but you.”

I ain’t had a job for a year or more, I don’t own a thing

Holy law and money, their intentions are tall

We smoke and talk in my room

Maybe I'm crazy

Or maybe you know

But I've got this feeling it’s all about to blow

So we go from year to year with secrets we’ve been keeping

“Yes, Jackie.” (there’s actually a French man named jacky on the wall who died last year)

Cameras on the microphone

I knew you was conflicted

Light my fire

Holy junkie

Funky monkey

He don't want to play that game

He gotta play that game

What will you ever do when you blow a fuse?

Sooner or later you’ve gotta get down and sing

I’m the siren that you hear

I’m churnin out novels like beat poetry on amphetamines

I’ve got feathers in my hair

They judge me

Brooklyn Babies

Yeah then I saw love disfigure me into something I am not recognizing

“See the cage.”

I will not open myself this way again.

All all you folks, you come to see; you just stand there looking at me…and I could kill you.

“I know there’s a way that we can make ‘em pay.”

“We never lost control.”(this stuck out like a sore thumb today)

When I’m in trouble I know she’ll go with me until the end; everybody asks me how I know I smile at them and say “she told me so.”

Don’t get high on what you create, oh it just might steal ya

Cocaine cocaine cocaine ALL DAY, Jesus, ok quick lecture: we’ve Got an overdose coming, so you better pull your shit together and now the lyrics: buzzing all the time, just one hit and I feel great….we promise we won’t tell.

Music is your only friend; until the end.

We can’t stop is the song that was playing Dec 30 2017 when fake katie told me I needed to “party” even tho I’d been sober a year, and when I asked with what, she responded “coke and ecstasy”. That was the longest & most severe drug addiction I ever had and I hope I never see it again, and sometime in 2018 while high out of my Mind after realizing I’d been duped, wrote, “blond got me hooked on cocaine” on my wall next to an exchange between me and my ex-therapist that said “I’m in a boat with drugs and ritual and voices”, and her response “do something with it or get a new boat”…so I did. It just took awhile. In the words of our friend the pot dealer “smoke weed, dude.”

Also don’t trick people into cocaine addictions by pretending to be their dead niece, maybe? 🤷🏻‍♀️

Don’t bother saying you’re sorry(though you having your henchmen leave wrapped drinking straws everywhere so I’d be reminded of my addiction was super shitty IMHO)

You are the habit I can’t seem to kick

And like a car crash I can see but I just can’t avoid

Like a plane I’ve been told I never should board (Steel, RIP)

Oh right that song about a girl you’re obsessed with that you never talk to, twice in one day

“When you hit the ground, it’s an awful sound.” Speak to us of this expertise. After all it’s played three times in 24 hours. On three different playlists.

A yo there’s poison in that gumbo

I know your secrets, bitches

[messers-moony]

My Everything | S.B

Paring: Sirius Black X Wife!Reader

Summary: When five marauders goes to two within the instance of a day. Two children are left without fathers and a wife is left without a husband.

Request: Sirius Black x Wife!reader reuniting and she's Remus sister

A/N: My first Harry Potter request. I got so excited to see this in my inbox and I hope it isn’t the last :)

Perhaps it was the feeling of betrayal she felt when he was finally gone. The fact that everything he’d ever said was a lie. She couldn’t help but think maybe his vows were a lie too. The five Marauders were now two. Only two left. How did this even happen? 

The unbreakable group of five. James Potter, the so-called leader of them all. The mom friend who always made sure everyone was okay and cared for. Sirius Black, the second in command. The mischievous, charismatic troublemaker who was always in detention. Peter Pettigrew, the outcast of them all. The shy and naive boy who gave them all a sense of logic. Remus Lupin, the intelligent and solace of them all. The only boy smart enough not to get caught. Y/n Lupin, the creative and sneaky one. The only one who could sneak and out of the Potions cabinet without Slughorn noticing. 

Now it was just the Lupin twins who, as Sirius called them, the “Linking Lupins.” It was hard in the beginning. First-year was difficult. All they had was each other. Lyall hadn’t really been accepting in the first place, but Hope was always blissfully unaware of her son's problem. All she knew was that he had to go away once a month. Lyall cursed himself out every night that Remus went away, cursing himself for letting this happen to his son. 

The cries of his baby girl begging for her brother. The wails of Y/n pleading for Remus not to go away. Not wanting to let go of him, hearing Remus from inside the room in the basement begging to be let out. Sobbing, crying for his mum or his dad to let him out, praying that the wolf doesn’t take over. Whimpering at how much it hurts the way his bones dislocate and relocate back together in a new way. 

So yeah, first year was challenging. But Dumbledore had a safe place for him to go every evening of the full moon, and Y/n would be there when he woke up every time. Remus relished in the way her hands felt in his. They were so soft compared to his calloused ones. So gentle compared to his often rough movements. Small compared to big. She was everything he wasn’t, and he was happy about that. 

James Potter was the first to talk to them with his flamboyant nature. His eyes were the lightest of browns with spotted glittering green. His smile was perfect and straight. How could someone’s smile be that way at the ripe age of eleven? Despite his aura screaming, “I’m the popular kid, and you’re the loser,” he was actually quite nice. 

Upon looking at James, the Lupin twins both thought of trouble. They remembered the popular kids from their muggle school before this one, how they used to belittle Remus for his scars and how Y/n used to push them away. So, forgive them for being a little cautious around him. It didn’t help that James’ counterpart was the opposite of them both. 

Sirius Black, lanky and confident. This boy had no boundaries and absolutely no limits. If he wanted it, he was going to get it. His eyes were the purest iron, and his smile was white like quartz. Hair black as coal and personality as gregarious as the color wheel. His style was toned back, but his character could’ve put the color wheel to shame with how bright he was. Sirius Black could’ve been the antonym to Remus and Y/n Lupin. 

During second year they found another boy who was being beaten by Slytherins for his scarlet and golden robes. He was stocky, and it seems that he was pretty timid. His blond hair was disheveled, and his blue eyes full of fright. Y/n had stepped in front of him just like she had Remus from the bullies back in muggle school. Her wand was held tight in her grip as she stared at them. 

“What are you gonna do, Loony Lupin?” One of them snarled. 

“Aguamenti.” 

The Slytherins were now covered in water. Damp like they had all taken a shower with their clothes on. Their black robes turned a shade darker. The evergreen accents turned olive, and the silver turned into grey. The main Slytherin boy gritted his teeth, and his icy eyes stared into Y/n’s e/c ones. 

“You’ll pay for that.”

Y/n pocketed her wand in her robes, smiling sweetly, “I’m sure I will. Now, run along before I do something worse.”

They didn’t want to obey, but they also didn’t want to stay in that situation. The Slytherins scurried off like dogs following their owner's command. Y/n fixed her hair with her hand and turned around. She was offering her soft hand to the boy who was frozen, shocked, staring at her. Hesitantly he gripped her hand, allowing her to pull him up. She was only slightly shorter than him. 

“Y/n Lupin.” She introduced, “You are?”

“Pe- Peter Pettigrew.”

Y/n bowed playfully, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Peter.” 

“Pleasure.” Peter muttered shyly as her group of friends approached. 

Remus swung an arm around her shoulders, “You’re bloody brilliant, you know?”

“Our star.” Sirius swooned jokingly as Y/n punched his shoulder, causing him to pout, “Who’s this?” James queried, looking at Peter, who cowered under the hazel-eyed gaze. 

“Boys,” Y/n smiled brightly, “This is our new member of the Marauders. Peter Pettigrew.”

Peter fiddled with his hands anxiously, “New- New member?”

“Mhm!” Y/n hummed, “You’re our new addition.”

James smiled, “Any friend of Y/n’s is a friend of ours. Welcome, Peter.”

From then it went from four to five. Peter never really stopped thanking them for letting him in. For the first time, Peter felt at home, and it was thanks to Y/n. He realized how kind she was, how creative she was. It was so strange. The group was so different, like extraordinarily diverse, yet they worked together so well. Y/n and Remus seemed to be the brains of things. James and Sirius seemed to be the trouble makers. Peter just did his own thing but always contributed. 

In fifth year Remus started to worry. Everyone was so secretive. They stopped hanging around as much, even his sister. It hurt. It really hurt to see them seeking around on the map that he and Y/n created together for the most part. It wasn’t until during the winter break did Y/n finally realize what they were doing affected them. 

Remus barely cried. Or at least that’s what people made it out to seem. Remus actually cried a decent amount. He was snuggled up in his room. His blanket encasing him, and his arms held around his pillow tightly, gripping it as if it’d leave him like he felt everyone else was. His heart felt broken. Y/n was outside his door, hearing his soft cries, and gently knocked on the door. 

“Rem. Can I come in, please?”

He didn’t say anything, so she just let herself in. The door closed behind her with a click, and she saw her tall brother curled up into the tightest ball with silver streams on his cheeks. Y/n sat in front of him and rubbed the side of his arm. Remus’ eyes continue to release water like a dam that had been broken. He couldn’t swallow it no matter how hard he tried. 

“What’s wrong, Rem?”

Remus didn’t say anything. He just dug his head deeper into the pillow he was holding. Y/n’s hand made its way to his sandy-colored hair. She was scratching at the scalp and smoothing his hair away from his face keeping the strands from getting wet. Her hand hesitantly reached his cheek and wiped away the tears that kept falling. 

She sighed, “Remus, please.”

“You’re- you’re gon’ leave me, aren’ you.” Remus choked. 

“Leave you?” Y/n questioned softly, afraid if she raised her voice any more, it’d make things worse, “I wouldn’t leave you if I was given a chance, Remmy.”

He sniffled, “You- you haven’ been a- around.”

“I know.” Y/n soothed, caressing his cheek, “But there’s an explanation for it. James, Sirius, Peter, and I have been distant. We know that. But there’s a reason for it. You’ll find out soon.”

Remus’ eyes met his sister's warm e/c ones, “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never.” 

He smiled gently. The corners of his lips barely curled, but she knew it was there. Remus had fallen asleep with his sister's hand in his hair. When she was sure he was sleeping, Y/n left the bedroom, allowing him to sleep peacefully. Then she wrote a letter to James where she knew Sirius was staying too. 

One more week, Y/n thought. One more week of this Mandrake leaf in their mouths until they could be done with this. 

It took another month before it was ready. Before they were ready. They were in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom when they started. James started first. When he turned into a stag, they all began laughing. James turned back, pouting. Sirius turned second into a huge black dog. Y/n smiled and petted his head. 

“Very fitting, Sirius.”

Sirius turned back, letting Peter turn next. He was so tiny that Sirius almost stepped on him. James and Y/n sniggered at their rat friend. Next was Y/n, who turned into a graceful cat. Her fur was black, and her eyes were a striking e/c. James smirked and nudged Sirius. 

“Matching animagus’, eh?”

Sirius scowled, “Cats and dogs don’t match.”

Y/n turned back, “Don’t they?”

“Ready for this full moon?” James asked them all. 

“‘Course!”

“Yep!”

“Can’t wait.”

That full moon was better than them all. Remus had people to join him. There was something that he noticed, though. Every time he’d get close to the cat, the dog would growl and stand in front of her. It was like the dog was protecting what was his. Y/n noticed it too. Every time Remus got close, Sirius stood in front of her, keeping him at a safe distance. 

It wasn’t until a quiet night in the Marauders dorm did Remus finally bring it up, “Sirius.”

“Remus.”

“How long?”

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows, “How long what?”

“You know,” Remus moved his hand in a circular motion for him to continue, “How long have you liked my sister?”

“Woah, Remus.” Sirius stated in shock, “That’s quite the accusation.”

Remus tilted his head, “Is it?”

“Yeah. It is.” Sirius replied, “Y/n is my friend. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“So, you not sleeping with any girls for the past year is just a coincidence?” Remus questioned knowingly, “You staring at her during class and parties is just on accident?”

Sirius’ cheeks went pink, “And it’s definitely a coincidence that you always hug her first after every Quidditch match.”

“Okay, fine, fine.” Sirius confessed, “I like Y/n. I have for a while.”

“So why haven’t you asked her out?”

“Excuse me?”

Remus shrugged, “Why haven’t you asked her out yet? You know she enjoys going to Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks.”

“Mate, have you forgotten we’re talking about your sister?” Sirius asked, “Like your twin sister?”

“I know.” Remus replied, “She likes you too, you know.”

Sirius’ eyes were practically bulging out of his skull. How in the name of Merlin was Remus so calm about this? He said it so casually as if they were talking about the weather. Sirius expected Remus to get angry or throw a book at him. 

“Are you- Are you giving me permission to date your sister?”

“As long as you don’t hurt her, sure.”

Sirius hesitated before asking his next question, “Can you help me do it?”

Remus smirked, “Casanova of Hogwarts can’t ask out Y/n?”

“Please, Remus.” Sirius begged, “I really like her, and I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Remus snorted, “You always fuck things up.”

“That’s why I need you!” 

Remus just smirked triumphantly. 

“Pleaaaseeeeeee.”

“Alright, fine.” Remus relented, “Just be cool about it, yeah? Take her to Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks. She’d enjoy that a lot. Maybe take her to Tomes and Scrolls.”

“You’re a lifesaver!” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Remus rolled his eyes, “Now shut up. ‘M tired.”

The following day Sirius and Y/n did go to Hogsmeade together. She was amazed when they went into Honeydukes together. She picked out some of her favorite sweets and some for Remus since the full moon was a week away. When she went to pay for it, Sirius pushed her hand away, paying for it himself. Y/n wouldn’t stop thanking him. 

Next, they went to Tomes and Scrolls. On any ordinary occasion, Sirius would’ve hated this. Truth be told, he wasn’t really a reader or a book person in general. But for her, he’d do absolutely anything. Y/n picked out some new books and began raving to Sirius about one in particular. So again, Sirius paid for them and told her to find a table in the Three Broomsticks. 

Sirius went to the area where the book she was raving about was found. He grabbed one for himself, planning to read and annotate it for her. Maybe he’d give it to her as a birthday gift or just a random gift. Nonetheless, he knew she’d love it, and Sirius would fall off a cliff if she asked him to. 

Inside he found her sitting with a hot chocolate and a butterbeer for himself. Sirius slid into the booth smiling at her. They talked about everything and anything. Sirius even went as far as to tell her some stuff about his family the other guys didn’t know about. He went on about how he envied Remus and her relationship wanting the same thing with Regulus. 

Sirius told her how he wanted his future to look. How many tattoos he wanted. Where he wanted to live. How many children he wanted. So on and so forth. He was so open and so honest it surprised her. Generally, if someone asked Sirius what he wanted his future to look at, he’d just shrug. Now he was spilling everything to her. 

It didn’t take long after that for them to become official. Remus smiled when she announced it. He was happy for her. Remus could see how happy Sirius made her, and for that, he was grateful that someone could take care of her in his absence. Y/n only wanted that for him too. One day she’d have a family, and Remus wouldn’t be her main priority. That scared her because, for all seventeen years of her life, it was just her and Remus. 

After graduating from Hogwarts, they got married. It wasn’t anything huge, especially with Voldemort on the rise, but it happened. James was Sirius’ best man, and Marlene was Y/n’s maid of honor. Remus walked Y/n down the aisle and gently kissed her cheek before letting her go. Seeing Sirius and Y/n get married made James overjoyed to marry Lily, but that would happen all in due time. 

So what was it that made her feel this way? Was it the betrayal? Was it the dishonesty? Was it the disloyalty? What was it in truth? The moment Sirius was locked away in Azkaban, everything changed. When Remus heard about it, she was his first stop. Inside he saw her with a baby on her lap. Their baby boy, just a year old. He was born only months before Harry. 

Little Perseus Sirius Black. Y/n’s pride and joy. He was everything to her. Remus had walked into the house seeing his broken sister holding her child close to her as he cried. Remus walked in and gently took the child from her arms, allowing her to lean on his shoulder as he held Perseus. The little boy smiled at the familiar face of his uncle. 

“Rem!” 

Remus smiled softly, “Hey, Perseus.”

It took a long time for Y/n to collect herself. Remus had taken a spot in the house since he couldn’t find a place by himself. Y/n worked at the ministry most days, and Remus would take care of her little troublemaker. As Perseus grew, he looked more and more like his mother. The same e/c eyes and h/c hair. The only thing that made him look like a Black was his defined body and facial structure. 

The sharp jawline, the defined nose, the straight cheekbones, the semi-hollow cheeks, and the pointed chin. His features were that of the Noble House of Black, yet he could’ve made his way to look like a Lupin even more. For a while, Y/n worked a lot. She was trying to keep her family afloat. But it wasn’t until Remus said he got a job offer at Hogwarts did she have to stop. Working for her felt like nothing. Every day she was worried about Perseus going to school. Especially with Sirius being out of Azkaban. 

The night that Remus saw Peter Pettigrew on the map, he knew something was wrong and sent Y/n and owl for her to come to Hogwarts. Without hesitation, she did. On the night of that full moon, she was also down in the Shrieking Shack, holding Harry close to her, not wanting him to get hurt. When everything got resolved, she cried. 

Y/n went home that night rethinking everything. A week later, Remus and Perseus returned home. She couldn’t remember holding Percy that tight ever. Y/n was just thankful that he was safe and he was home. That night that Y/n and Remus told Percy what really happened, why his father was never really in the picture. 

A year later is when Perseus finally met his father - well, that he can remember. He was fifteen now, going into his fifth year at Hogwarts when Y/n and Remus took him to Grimmauld Place 12. It felt foreign, and it felt evil. Needless to say, Percy didn’t like the place. Inside, Sirius was waiting for them along with many others. 

When the door opened and shut gently, he knew it was her. For the first time in over twelve years, he’d be allowed with his wife again. The woman he loved and the woman he felt the most solace with. He’d also see the boy that he used to know grown up into a young adult. The young gentleman Sirius always wanted. 

Perseus stood in front of her, Y/n’s hands on his shoulders. Sirius almost chuckled at it. Percy was protecting her even if she didn’t know it herself. He stood in front of her for a reason, to make sure she’d be safe. Sirius stood in front of them, swallowing harshly. 

“Remus, Y/n.” He choked on the last name.

“Good evening Sirius.” Remus greeted politely, “How have you been?”

Sirius shuffled, “I’ve been better.”

Remus hugged him, whispering in his ear, “Don’t fuck this up.”

“Hey, Siri.” Y/n smiled with tears in her eyes, “Hey, love.”

Gently she walked in front of Percy and hugged him tightly. Sirius’ arms went around her waist, and his nose dug into her hair. The scent of her perfume and shampoo calming his nerves slightly. Y/n dug her head into his neck and placed her arms around him. They pulled away and smiled. Gently he kissed her forehead. 

“I’m sorry for believing that you would ever,” She looked down, “You know.”

Sirius picked her chin back up gently, “You have nothing to be sorry for, love.”

Y/n kissed his lips softly. His lips were far from how she remembered. They were no longer soft and tasted of smoke. Instead, they were chapped and tasted of firewhiskey. Perhaps some things never change. Their lips melded together perfectly, just as they did so many years ago. They pulled apart, smiling brightly. She pulled from his embrace to stand by his side. 

“Sirius, this is-“

“Perseus, I know.” 

Perseus smiled nervously; they had the same smile, the same straight smile, “Hi.”

“Hi.”

It was silent for a while as Perseus shuffled, “Are you- are you staying this time?”

“I’d like to.” Sirius replied, “I’m not quite sure the extent of my living abilities, but I’ll be here.”

“I’m- I'm in Slytherin.”

“Okay.”

Perseus looked incredulously, “Okay? That’s all you have to say?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with being in Slytherin.” Sirius stated, “Your heart is in the right place.”

“How would you know?” Percy snapped, “You’ve been gone for most of my life. You don’t know anything about me.”

Sirius quirked an eyebrow, “So you standing in front of your Mather was just a happy accident? You weren’t planning on protecting her. Shall something go wrong?”

Percy looked at the ground, “Someone had to make sure she was safe while you were gone.” 

“That’s not fair.” 

“Life isn’t fair!” Percy yelled, “You left us. You don’t realize how badly you hurt her while you were gone.”

Remus walked back into the corridor to see Y/n frozen staring at her son. Sirius was standing in an argumentative stance. Percy’s eyes were filling with tears of frustration as he stared at the man who abandoned him from the start. 

“You left me. You left mum. You left Remus.” Percy cried, “How did you expect this to go, huh?”

Sirius didn’t say anything, “Did you expect me to be happy?! Did you expect me to hug you and fall into your arms?!” Percy shouted, “Because I’m not. I’m not happy, and I’m not going to fall into your arms and hug you like a naive little boy. My mum deserves better than this bullshit.”

“Enough!” Remus snapped, and Percy froze, “Your father is risking his life to be here right now. To meet you. I get it. I wouldn’t be happy either if my father did what Sirius did. But with things, the way they are right now is holding a grudge really that important?”

“N- No, sir.”

“Percy.” Y/n called, and he stared at her with watery eyes as she approached him, “I get it. You’re angry, you’re upset, but he’s still your father. He wants to be here now.”

“B- But he-“

“I know, my love. He’s going to try and make up for it. You don’t have to trust him right away. You don’t have to say ‘I love you’ right away. He isn’t expecting that.” Y/n wiped the tears from his cheeks, “All he’s expecting is his son. The little boy that he last saw.”

Percy looked down, “I know you aren’t that little boy, and I wish you still were. The little boy that used to make me smile and laugh. The little boy that used to cause mischief around the house driving Remus mad.” 

Sirius smiled, “You’re older now, and that will take some getting used to. I know you don’t remember, but Sirius used to be the only one who could get you to stop crying. He used to hold you all night, sleep with you in the rocking chair.”

“Sirius used to babble nonsense to you while I was at work. He used to take you to the park. Make you laugh by turning into a dog.” Percy sniffled, “Back then, Sirius was your everything, baby.”

Percy hugged his mom tight, “I- I’m scared.”

It was only loud enough for her to hear, “Why, baby?”

“What if- what if he leaves again?”

“He’s not going to.” Y/n moved the hair from his face, “Sirius wouldn’t leave us unless he had to.”

Percy knew what that meant. Sirius wouldn’t leave unless he got killed or died. Percy looked at Sirius’ eyes which were filled with tears from recalling the moments of his past. Y/n smiled reassuringly before Percy allowed himself to hug his father. He was wrapping his arms around his stomach, nuzzling his nose into his chest. 

When they pulled apart, Sirius smiled, “You’re my everything, kiddo.”

[thesmokingguns]

Tomato Plant

Minors DNI 18+

Mentions of drugs and sex

When Duff moved into his new apartment he noticed that the neighbor had a green thumb. When moving boxes he had to be careful to weave through pots and plants that were growing. It reminded him of his mom back home and though the boys all grumbled that this was definitely not going to be a party house like they had wanted.

But when he saw her at 6am on a Sunday morning when he was waking up to throw up he realized just how wrong he had been about the girl next door.

“I’m Duff.” he had brushed his teeth and sprayed too much cologne on and got dressed in his semi clean pants. She looked up tuckin a stray piece of curly blonde hair behind her ear, looking him up and down, smiling at him.

“I’m Dani. So you’re the new neighbor who listens to The Clash at full volume at 3am.” she said it teasingly but the bassist felt the way she was easy to get along with. “I was going to bring you some cookies or something but my cooking doesn’t keep up with my gardening so I have a plant for you.” she was moving around, finding one of the plants in a big black pot and giving it to Duff.

He looked at it, vaguely thinking that it looked like a weed plant but not knowing enough about plants to actually say anything to her.

“You can tell everyone it’s a tomato plant and you harvest it when it blooms in September. If you need help with it let me know.” He nodded his head, not knowing what else to do, “I have to go to work soon. Have a good day Duff.”

When the guys came over that afternoon they all looked at the plant and at Duff, confused.

“Where did you get a pot plant?” Axl asked, looking at the plant that Dani had given to him. Duff looked at the plant confused.

“It’s a tomato plant.” Duff repeated what he had been told, handing out beers to the guys who all looked at him, wondering if he could really be that vulnerable.

“Where did you get a tomato plant?” Izzy asked, suspicious of this new development and wondering where he could acquire one as well.

But Duff was starting to realize that this plant was for him and not others and he was going to safeguard his secret now. His neighbor with the golden hair and those hazel brown eyes who was not the old lady that he had expected.

“Leave the plant alone, aren’t we here to work on the band?” He didn’t see them all exchanging looks at the plant that would never sprout a tomato in its life.

Duff saw her again two days later. She was on the back balcony, smoking as she sat back on a chair, eyes closed with an expression that let him know she was stressed about something. Dani was well dressed in a pair of suit pants, a starched white shirt with too many buttons undone and her curls falling out of a ponytail.

He could see her from his balcony and wanted to comfort her but he didn’t know what words to say to her. He had only talked to her once and that had been when she gave him the tomato plant that had yet to sprout any red tomatoes.

“Hey Dani.” the words came out of his mouth before he knew what was going on. He watched her eyes open and she blinked at him as if she was wondering how long he had been staring at her on the porch. “I ordered pizza and wings. Do you want to eat with me?” she smirked, putting out her joint as she pushed herself up.

“I had a really bad day, Duff. Really bad.” he wanted to apologize to her, ask her if she wanted to talk about it but she was morning closer to him, lips so close he could smell the chapstick she was wearing. “And the only thing that would make me feel  better is to get fucked so hard all I can think about is dick and not my problems.” She tilted her head as she leaned forward, the small barrier between them not giving enough space. “Can you fuck me?”

Duff nodded his head and Dani smiled, swinging her legs over the barrier and making it over to his side of the porch. She was grabbing his hand, leading him into his home as she sent a smirk over her shoulder at him.

The bassist was confused as to what was happening but as Victoria made her way into his bedroom and started undressing he became bery aware that she was serious about fucking him. She folded her shirt and pants, placing it on a chair and turned to him in a black lacy set, waiting for him to make a move.

He pulled off his shirt, stepping forward as Dani started undoing his pants. Neither of them are talking now as they just breathed in each other. His pants fell to the floor with a tug and Dani raised an eyebrow as she looked at Duff.

“Comando? I guess I’m wearing too much now.” Duff moved for her panties, tugging them down as Dani undid her bralette. Her small tits free as the bassist pulled her panties off and grabbed her thigh, pulling it closer to him.

Dani leaned into her pleasure, fingers tangling with his blonde hair as she felt his mouth on her body. Kissed on her thighs as she waited and anticipated the feeling of his lips higher to the split between her legs. A whimper came out of her mouth as his tongue came out, flicking over the wetness between her thighs. The way she whimpered and grinded against his face was driving Duff insane.

He hadn't been with girls who let themself just feel pleasure like this. The way Dani was so free with letting him see her enjoy herself. She was loud, whimpering as she arched against his face giving him access to her body.

“Fuck Duff, you’re going to make me cum.” his fingers slipped into her body and he had to catch her with one hand and guide her back onto the bed as he pushed her thighs back, his mouth devouring her.

As soon as Dani hinted at cumming he was making it his personal mission to make her cum as many times as humanly possible. Her back arched, hand tugging his hair as she rode her orgasm on his fingers and face. Duff licking and working his fingers inside her body as she pushed her knees together holding him there.

The doorbell rang, breaking Duff’s concentration as he pulled back from Dani who was still writhing in his sheets, panting heavily now in her post orgasms. She lifted a hand to touch her cheeks as she looked down at him, the doorbell ringing again.

“It’s the food.” Duff admitted, unsure of what to do. Dani smirked at him, pushing herself up as she grabbed duff, kissing him.

She could taste herself on his tongue and Duff was thinking of laying her back and holding her down as he made her cum around his cock this time. BUt as he tried to lay her down Dani shook her head, pulling away from the kiss with a wet smack of lips.

“You should probably get that. I think it’s going to be a very long night for us.” Duff groaned, grabbing his pants as he heard the doorbell ring again.

The pizza kid looked annoyed as he saw him but Duff could care less as he grabbed the pizza and wings, handing the kid the money as a teenager looked inside the apartment, eyes landing on the plant Dani had given to him.

“Cool tomato plant.” Duff looked at him, handing him a bigger tip before shutting the door, locking it and putting the food down. He had to get back to bed.

[dr4cking]

I just came across your blog and I love your writing so much. Can I request where reader and draco are in a secret relationship so she likes to tease him in public by flirting with guys!? And he gets like so possessive and fucks the living shit out of her 🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️

Consequences.

masterlist taglist

draco malfoy x reader | smut | anon requested.

a/n : thank you for requesting! this was so fun to write! <3

this is one of the most excited things she got when she signed a deal to be in a relationship with the one and only, draco malfoy.

they have been secretly dating for 7 months and the fact that no one know about this, making the adrenaline of getting caught more exciting.

y/n loves how draco would treated her like she is the only girl for him, which is true. but she also likes how she would seek a chance of getting him worked up when she gets on his skin then she would get what she wanted.

like now, it was no different days but she decided she would add some fun today, she loves when he goes rough with her in bed and now she makes sure she would get it without having to look desperate.

y/n smirked as the brightest idea popped up in her mind. draco is the type of jealous and overprotective boyfriend, so why doesnt she proves it today?

she admit she was kinda scared when she saw the angry version of her boyfriend but she loved it at the same time. she likes to tease him, knowing he cant do anything.

and if this how she would get what she wanted then she would take it.

she walked out of her dorm and run downstairs, she knew draco already waiting for her in the great hall. it would be the perfect chance for her.

her eyes looking for the blonde haired guy as soon as she entered the great hall and she found him already looking at her, his eyes were telling her to sit near him,

but no, not today.

y/n took a seat beside theodore nott, a friend of draco who would always take his chance to flirt with all the girls who passed by him.

“hey nott, you’re looking good today” y/n raising her voice a little bit louder on purpose, draco who sat across them already fuming at her flirty voices.

“hey y/n its all you, looking hot as always.” she laughs although its not really funny, she cringed at the way her laugh sounds but play it along when she heard a thumped sounds from a fork dropped to the plate.

y/n continues her flirting with theo touching his arm and laughing about his jokes until it was time for their class. she looks at draco’s red face and give him a wink and a smirk.

“what the fuck is up with your bratty behavior today?” draco asked as he walks past her, he makes sure no one was looking in their direction.

“who are you calling brat? because i’m for sure not one.” y/n replied giving him her sly grin before she runs to the class not giving him the chance to answer her.

they were sitting next to each other in potions class, draco tried his best not to distracting the class by calling y/n’s name at any chance he got but she was still ignoring him and told him it was nothing.

“baby, did i do something wrong?” she swore she almost wanted to stop all her game when she heard the intonation in his voice but she decided to be stubborn.

“its nothing draco i promise” y/n shoots him a smile reassuring him, the least she could do right now.

professor snape called out and announce that they’re gonna make a new potion and have to partner up with someone and when he listed her name with harry potter, she couldnt get more excited as she look at draco and shot him an apologetic smile.

“hey y/n, could you bring the ingredients i’m still working on how to make this properly” she nodded at harry’s order and get the ingredients immediately but not before taking a look at draco and swaying her hips on her way making him glared at her.

“here, harry. so, what’s the first step?” y/n asked and do what harry instructed.

she keeps asking him not-so- important questions to keep their conversation going but to make it worse she touched his arm on purpose and twirling her hair.

draco behind her already watching every move she made.

but whats make draco more mad is when they finished the potion and y/n jumped happily as they successfully made the potion and give the chosen one a tight embrace.

draco stormed out of the class balling his fists up, anger radiates off of him making all people passed by him to back off a little. y/n noticed this right away feeling guilty and decided to follow him but he was nowhere at the sight.

she was still looking around for draco asking people if they’ve seen him but the answer is no.

until a cold hand grabbed her wrist harshly and pulling her in one of abandoned class. she yelped when the person lock the door and put his hand on her mouth to muffled her scream.

“you did that on purpose, dont you, brat?” y/n rubbed her thighs together as she recognized the deep voice behind her, its draco.

“now you gonna have to stay quiet and be a good girl for me while i teached you some lesson, yeah?” she only nodded at him cant speak as his hand still on her mouth.

“for the whole day i’ve been wondering what i did wrong to make you act like an ungrateful brat. but all i see now is that you just need to be tamed, right?” draco whispers into her ear guiding his free hand down to the bottom of her skirt after y/n gives him a nod of permission.

he sneaked his hand under her skirt and put it in her panties rubbing her cunt getting her aroused then he pushed in his fingers into her without warning making her body jolt out.

“you just wanted to be fucked braindead, yeah? what a dumb girl” his hand still remain on her mouth not trusting she would be able to keep her voice down.

y/n put her hand on his hand that were buried deep inside her and pushing his fingers deeper into her starting to fuck herself on his fingers making him chuckle.

“think you deserve to cum after what you did earlier, hm?” draco said taking all the control in his hand and starts to thrusting his fingers deeper and faster.

his long fingers abused her cunt just like the way she needed and when he curls them inside she screamed, luckily his other hand still covering her. she was squirming there and then under his touch.

y/n rolled her eyes back in pleasure when his fingers meet her spot and pumping into it over and over again.

draco feels her walls clenching around him and quickly pulled them out of her leaving the girl whining.

“think about the consequences next time, princess.” draco turns her around and pushes her chest against the wall, placing her ass right in front of his crotch.

“i’m sorry i’m sorry draco! please i need to cum.. fuck me please dray punish me!” y/n finally let her voice out as his hands are too busy roaming around her body.

a hard smack delivered to her ass making a loud sound causing her to whimpered at the sting.

“stay quiet princess or i will not consider about giving you the chance to cum” she shuts her mouth instantly as draco unbuckled his pants letting it falls to his ankle.

y/n cant help but letting out high pitched moan when his hand came in contact with her marked ass again and when he pushed her panties aside finally lining up his cock against her entrance.

“now you will remember who you belong to.” draco said as he slammed all of his cock inside her, pounding into her right away not giving her time to adjust.

“oh fuck! y-yes dray..” y/n moans out loud which earned her another slap on her sore ass.

“quiet, brat” she tried to hold her moan by biting her lips but it just slipped off of her especially when his tip hit her spot.

draco’s eyes rolled back in pleasure, groaning quietly as he let himself disappear inside her going in and out of her with snaps of his hips, each time it gets harder and faster.

he roughly squeezed her breasts through her shirt making her shirt ruffled and messy before letting his hand down to circling her clit.

“make yourself cum, y/n.” he slaps her sensitive clit a few times making her writhed, ripping her orgasm through her body, she doesnt care anymore when she moaned his name out loud.

“feels so fucking good” with the last thrust, draco stilled and shoots his thick cum into her non stop, painting her walls white with his liquids over and over again making the girl moaned when her panties became sticky.

draco pulls out and put his pants back on. he stared at her fucked out body before turning her around to face him and quickly pressing their lips together kissing her passionately.

“next time just ask me if you want your needy pussy to get pounded hard by me. dont you dare do that stunt ever again.” y/n nodded at his words giving him a cheeky grin. sweats running through their bodies.

and when they opened the door, all the students that passed by giving them a weird look, draco smirked at them before pulling y/n back into a deep kiss.

“mine.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

pls i love this one-

tagging : @dracoscum (unblock me hoe) @hellounicorn @onyourgoddamnleft @whoreforgeorgeandfred @turn-to-page-394-please @underappreciated-spoon-321 @youreso-golden @silverdelirium @dracmalf0y-dm @f4iryluvy @famishedbeak @arzfia @starstruckgranger @lieswithoutfairytales @slut4dracoo @alexthealexthealex

[whimsicallyreading]

For Rowaelin Month day 17

 “A sick day”

CW- PTSD, mentions of violence

Aelin considered herself a fortunate person.

She has survived genocide, her family's murders, losing loved ones, slavery, torture, and the Great War. Now she is a queen, a mother, a beloved Mate.

Her life had changed since those bleak days where she'd wondered if she would ever escape captivity—the days when Aelin didn't know if she would ever be free or find love again. Every morning she woke up curled into Rowan's side, and while she drank her morning tea, Aelin could count on her young daughter snuggling into her lap.

Yes, she was swamped most days, but that was normal for a queen. But even the moments between boring meetings brimmed with life and laughter. Rowan's hand on her thigh beneath the table. Fenrys' theatrics when conversation spiraled off-topic. And even the hardened lords thought it was hilarious when their three-year-old princess barged into councils and demanded her mother's attention.

Her family gathered for dinners at the end of every day. Aelin's little family, Fenrys, Emrys, and Malakai were the regular attendees. Aedion, Lysandra, Elide, and Lorcan joined when they were present. It was a time reserved for family only, and it was by far Aelin's favorite part of the day.

Aelin had a good life now. Her family was growing, and her country thrived beneath her rule.

So it always took her by surprise when a bad day came.

She had woken up fine. Delly had slammed open the chamber door with a gust of wind and squirmed herself between her and Rowan in the early morning. Usually, Aelin treasured the moments when her daughter joined them, but being pregnant again had taken a toll on her sleep.

Rowan tried to stop their child before she entirely collapsed onto Aelin but was a moment too slow. Delly flopped onto her mother's chest in a disarray of wrinkled nightgown and golden curls. Soft sobs were sputtering out of the tiny figure.

I'm sorry. Rowan whispered into her thoughts. He knew how hard pregnancy was on her and took his mate's comfort very seriously. It troubled him that their toddling daughter woke Aelin so abruptly.

Aelin blinks the sleep from her eyes and sends him a happy smile to assure him everything is fine.

"What's wrong, Dell?" Aelin soothes a hand up her baby's quaking form.

Adelia sniffles harder, unable to talk through the tears. She'd started to have bad dreams in recent weeks, but never had she been so inconsolable.

Aelin shifts as Adelia's arms tighten uncomfortably around her bump. Rowan sees her discomfort and reaches around to pull Dell to him instead, but it is met with resistance.

"No," Adelia finally wails. "Mama. I want Mama."

Rowan frowns. Adelia was a daddy's girl to the bone, and this was the first time she'd ever refused to go to him. Their daughter squeezes harder and burrows her face into Aelin's torso.

"Dell," Rowan leans next to her and whispers, a cool breeze brushing against her flushed cheek. "What's wrong little love?"

Adelia lifts her head, and Aelin's heart contracts painfully. Her cheeks are red and swollen from the intensity of her crying, little sobs still stumbling from her chest as Rowan settles her down enough to speak.

"Mama was gone. She was hurt, and she couldn't see me." Dell sniffles, her green eyes glassy. "Can you see me, Mama?"

Aelin tugs her daughter in closer, unable to stand the sight of her so sad. "Yes, of course, I can. I'm right here."

"You were in a box. She wouldn't let me see you," Adelia whimpers in a small voice. "She told me she was gonna keep you. I don't want you to go, Mama."

Aelin's face blanches. It wasn't possible. Her little baby couldn't possibly have seen what was coming to her mind. She looks at Rowan, and his face is pinched with worry.

"It's not real, Dell." Rowan uses a thumb to wipe the tears off her cheek.

Adelia flinches. "Uncle Ress told me it was. He told me Mama had got stollen and put into a box by the bad lady and that she should have stayed there."

Aelin's heart stops. Nausea crawls up her throat, and Rowan tugs Adelia away just in time for her to crawl out of bed and gag into a potted plant. The sickness grips Aelin, the shudders in her arms only growing worse with her daughter's mumbled cries.

"Daddy, I want Mama to stay here." Rowan hushes her and murmurs quiet reassurances. "Don't let her get stollen."

Ress had said that? In front of her daughter? Aelin tries to close her eyes against the visions creeping into her mind. The places her scars used to be ache, and her hands pulse with the remembered pain of reconstruction.

The baby in her womb squirms under its mother's stress, and Aelin throws up again.

She should have stayed there.

Cairn brings the hammer down onto her frail knees, the ringing of cracking bone splits the air.

She should have stayed there.

Aelin opens her eyes to endless darkness. Sweet smoke wafts through invisible holes and sends her to sleep- leaving her mind vulnerable to Maeve's manipulations.

She should have stayed there.

More and more memories swarm behind her eyelids until a pair of grounding arms wrap around her shoulders.

"Fireheart, you are home. You are safe. Can you breathe with me?" Rowan sighs loudly behind her shoulder, and Aelin tries to force her own breath out.

Breathing in is harder, but Rowan's scent fills her nose and loosens the binds on her lungs. Soon, Aelin is doing the exercises independently, and Rowan nuzzles his face into her neck. His hands snake under her bump and lift some of the pressure, easing more of her tension.

"There you are," Rowan kisses her cheek as Aelin comes back around. "Are you okay?"

Aelin shakes her head and sinks into his arms. "Can you take me back to bed?"

Her legs feel like jelly, and her stomach is weak from turning. Rowan lifts her with ease. His arms are warm, and he murmurs sweet nothings into her ear as he carries his mate back to their bed.

"Adelia?" Aelin looks around for their daughter.

Rowan pulls back the duvet and reveals the sleepy from nestled right into the middle of the pillows. "She fell back asleep quickly."

"I can't believe Ress told her those things," Aelin can feel a tear slipping down her face. Ress had never forgiven her for her days as Celaena. Darrow had grown to accept her, but Ress never warmed up to having Aelin as his queen despite her efforts.

She hadn't realized the extent his hatred went.

Rowan scowls as he lays Aelin down next to their daughter. "Ress is young and foolish. I have forgiven a lot of his hostility and ignored most of his juvenile antics, but Aelin, I can't forgive this."

"He should never have said those things to Dell." Ress's words linger in her head. She tried to do right by her title and live up to her parent's legacy. Aelin took a lot of pride in listening to the demands of her people and tending to their problems personally. But the odds of Ress being the only one to feel this way are slim. Did they wish she'd never returned? Was she arrogant to take the crown just because it was her inheritance? She'd never had the formal training as ruler and relied a lot on Rowan to help manage foreign affairs. Despite the loss of her fire, many still feared her and considered her a murderer. No matter how hard she tried, Aelin's history as Adarlan's Assassin proceeded her.

Tears burn Aelin's eyes, and Rowan's scowl deepens. "He should have never spoken of you like that at all."

Aelin shakes her head, "It's his right to think what he wants. Maybe he has a point."

"No." Rowan growls, and Dell flinches in her sleep. Taking a deep breath, Rowan softens his voice. "He's wrong, Aelin. Ress was wrong to scare Dell, and he has no right to demean everything you've sacrificed. You've suffered for your people."

"I closed the lock because I had to Rowan," Aelin argues. "That doesn't automatically make me a good queen. What if I'm failing?"

Rowan pulls their duvet up to Aelin's chin, and Dell instinctively snuggles to her mother's side. Her daughter was a leach for warmth, and Aelin could feel her remaining flames writhing in her veins agitated.

"You are a wonderful ruler, Fireheart." Rowan bends down and kisses her lips reverently. "I've met my fair share of emperors, kings, and queens. None of them have given up so much to better the lives of their people. They care for you in return."

Rowan steps away from the bed, and Aelin makes a displeased noise. "Where are you going so early in the morning."

"I'm awake now. I feel like a flight through Oakwald. Go to sleep, and when you wake up, I'll bring my females breakfast," Rowan pulls on a plain white tunic. "Sleep, love. You both need your rest."

Rowan can read her too well. Aelin can feel her eyes drooping despite how much she wants to deny it. "Very well, but there better be tea and pastries."

As Aelin drifts back to sleep, she swears that a mischievous smile passes across her mate's face.

~~~

"Aelin," Maeve twirls a lock of blonde hair in her fingers. "Where are the keys?"

Cairn twists the blade in her thigh again, and Aelin screams, "screw yourself."

Aelin writhes beneath the pain and the dark queen's gaze. Her torturer goes to twist the blade again, but Maeve holds up a hand. "Wait. There is a smarter way to go about this."

"I won't tell you anything," Aelin gasps, the blood seeping from her thigh pools onto the table. "There is nothing you can do."

"Not even to spare the princess?" Maeve smiles as the cell door opens. Connall walks into the room, a squirming girl in his arms.

"Let me go," the girl screams, and the air in the room turns frigid. Her blonde hair whips around as she twists and fights. The little girl's head turns, and she freezes when she catches sight of Aelin. "Mama?"

"Adelia?" Aelin asks, confused. "You can't be here. You aren't supposed to be here." With renewed energy, Aelin thrashes against her bonds and bares her teeth at Maeve.

Maeve takes Adelia from Connall and strokes her hair. "Such a pretty one."

"This isn't real," Aelin hisses. "I wasn't pregnant when you took me. Adelia was born in Terresan."

Maeve hums a sympathetic note, "It seems you're confused." Aelin fights as the dark queen sits with a frozen Adelia in her lap. "Begin again, Cairn."

A hot iron is lain against Aelin's neck, and Adelia's screams rattle the stone chamber.

~~~

Aelin wakes with a gasp. Her chest is seizing in uncontrollable fits, and little hands cup the sides of her face.

"Mama?" Adelia's concerned face hovers over Aelin's. "Why are you crying?"

Relief washes over her at the sight of her daughter, safe and sound. She tries to take deeper breaths, but her body fights against her. The baby in her womb squirms uncomfortably. Aelin feels guilt that they are so subject to her moods. She tries to open her mouth to speak, consol her frightened daughter, but Aelin can't get any words out.

"Daddy!" Dell screams, frightened tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.

Rowan bursts through the door, "Dell?"

Adelia sniffles and kisses Aelin's face sadly, "Daddy, what's wrong with Mama?"

Aelin grabs at her chest, trying to ease the tightness there. She was scaring her daughter. What kind of mother would do that? Rowan sits beside her, and a cool wind goes up her nose and fills her lungs.

"Fireheart," Rowan lifts Adelia and sits beside her. "Is this a sick day?"

It was the code they'd come up with for the days when the past came back to haunt them. When the turmoil in their mind forces their bodies to rebel, and they can't seem to put on their usual facades. It used to shame Aelin, the days she couldn't rise from bed and do her duty. But her mate's unwavering love soon cracked that lie and eased her burden. Rowan had convincing arguments. Aelin's people needed their queen at her best, and on sick days, she wasn't able to give that to them. Their court was strong. They wouldn't allow Terresan to fall while she recovered. Aelin deserved time to heal.

Rowan must have been able to tell that she wouldn't be able to settle herself this time as his winds continued their push and pull in her chest. "Yes," she rasps dejectedly.

Dell buries her face into Rowan's shoulder. Her mate rests a hand on the side of her face and soothes her cheek. "To whatever end, Aelin. We will get through this just as we do everything else."

Rowan kisses the side of Dell's face. "Little love, do you think you can go to the kitchens and have someone bring Mama tea?"

That fae instinct to fuss rears its head in their child. Adelia perks up at the opportunity to do something useful. "Yes!"

Rowan sets her on the floor, and she takes off in a blur of untamed hair and swishing skirts. They wince as a gust of wind slams the doors of their chambers against the wall.

"She's a handful," Rowan talks, aware of the soothing effect his voice has on her. "But we always knew our children would be. I can't wait to see what kind of chaos our son brings into our lives."

Aelin wraps her arms around him as the remnants of her dreams finally fade away. "You think it's a boy?"

"I know so," Rowan pinches her side, and Aelin smiles. He'd also been confident that their first child would be a girl. His smugness after Adelia's birth was unbearable.

"Rowan," Aelin whispers. "Can we just lay here today?"

"I could never deny you anything," Rowan leans against their headboard and kicks off his shoes. "You don't need to ask, Aelin. It's okay to take time for yourself."

"What if I'm just proving Ress right?" The insecurity slips from her lips before she can stop them. "What if there is someone more capable?"

"Ress won't be a problem anymore," Rowan rests a hand against her bump, and the baby withing kicks at it, bringing a smile to his face.

Aelin narrows her eyes, "What have you done?"

"Nothing that anyone will blame me for," Rowan assures. "He would be in a lot more trouble if the rest of the court learned what he said in front of Dell. Ress should be grateful I didn't do a lot worse."

Aelin sighs, "I don't understand why I can't just let it all go. Why do I allow myself to be so haunted?"

"It's not that simple," Rowan shakes his head. "I'm hundreds of years old, and no matter how many years pass, there are things from my past that haven't healed. The mind is different from the body, and sometimes it takes longer for it to recover. There is nothing wrong with that. You gave up everything for the people you loved."

"Because I had to," Aelin contradicts.

A hardness comes over Rowan, "because no one else could."

Rowan rolls over her body into a plank and looks deep into her eyes. "No one else that day would have made the same sacrifices out of love. Not even me. I was too selfish to let you go. You gave up everything, and by the strength in your soul, you came home to me. In all my decades, I have never met someone so remarkable, and I never will again. Take as many years as you need to recover, Aelin. This world owes a debt to you, and I will make sure it pays. You deserve every happiness."

His hand threads through one of hers and drags it up to rest on the bump between them.

Happiness.

Dell darts back into their room, a cup of tea sloshing in her hands as she runs. "Daddy, I put extra sugar in it. Uncle Fen is coming with more cups, but I made this one special."

Rowan pulls away from her, and the laughter on his face is contagious.  

Aelin smiles and accepts the tea from Dell's hands. She even manages a few sips without cringing from the sweetness. Fenrys follows behind her shortly and sets a fresh cup covertly on her bedside table.

There may be hard days, Aelin realizes as her family gathers around her, but the love they showed her every day made it all worth it.

[tu-sugar-mami]

You're an exchange student part 2:

You can read the first part here

You sit awkwardly on a gigantic chair while holding a lukewarm, barely touched cup of tea with both of your hands. Your back is straight and your shoulders are tense. You're starting to feel a bit sore after being still for a long time but you can't bring yourself to move.

After the incident with the first cultist —or what you still think is a cultist, the redhead girl— the tall lady took away your bug repelent and lighter along with your backpack, putting them on the top row of a nearby shelf where she was sure your little hands wouldn't reach.

If you're honest, you're not sure how you ended up sitting in the chair in front of the gigantic fireplace with many heavy comforters on you providing much needed warmth, feeling like an unexpected but not unwelcomed guest instead of the next sacrifice, but truly you're not complaining. This is thousand times better than to die outside from the cold.

As you sit there innocently waiting for the next important thing to happen, you can see that the two young women who arrived after you are exchanging a few words with Miss Tall Lady while taking off their coats to reveal several layers of winter clothes underneath. It's strange to you, but you pay it no mind. Every person takes different to the cold, after all.

The tall lady starts pacing back and forth in front of you heatedly talking, glancing at you once or twicce, and it's not hard for you to notice the strain and exasperation in her tone. Whatever she's saying sounds serious, but you can only make out a few words like 'offering' 'wrong' and 'mistake'.

Not knowing what to respond your find yourself distracted by the decor. Your eyes roaming every detail of the chiseled fireplace, taking in the most fine of the details. Then, is the stairwell that catches you attention and you can't help but to think it would be a great place to slide on a cardboard box.

"Are you listening to me?" A commanding voice and a snap of fingers brings your wandering mind down from the clouds and your neck snaps to face the woman. Her eyes are a beautiful golden, and you can't believe you didn't notice before.

"Your eyes are mesemerizing..." You say in your language, breathless, the words slipping past your lips almost as in a trance. Your gaze goes a bit down and your fingers twitch with a sudden desire to run them over those blood-red lips and feel for yourself if they are as soft as they look.

Miss Tall Lady looks thrown off by the foreign accent in your voice. It's definitely one she hadn't have the pleasure of hearing before and somehow makes her pause. Her mind might be playing tricks on her but why did whatever you said felt like some kind of compliment?

"Mother?" One of the young women from before asks tentatively. You don't know if you're right but you think the girls are the woman's daughters.

"Take this one to the library. I will follow shortly." Miss Tall Lady says before hurriedly walking away, though without losing her lady-like grace. Your eyes follow an hypnothic sway of hips going up the stairs before you sense a hand being extended towards you, expecting.

"Teacup, please." A blonde, very polite-looking young lady says. You jump a bit in your seat and inevitably blush, thinking for a moment you were caught in your respecful percieving, but to your relief the woman in front of you didn't seem to notice that.

"Uh..." You're not sure what Miss Blonde wants, but judging by the look she's giving you, you suppose she wants to greet you formally, so you do what any other civilized person would do. "Hi, it's a pleasure to meet you, miss." You say as you properly position the teacup in your left hand and with your right you shake hers. She's taken aback, but after a second of hesitation a smile breaks and graces her face.

A pair of loud laughs sound from behind the blonde. The young woman with the dark hair approaches you both from the side with an amused grin. "I like this one, Bels."

"An odd one indeed." Miss Blonde replies.

The last one of the unusual trio approaches on the other side of the blonde, the redhead you knocked out earlier. She looks at you intently. "Just so you know, no one besides mother sends me to sleep without consecuenses, little one." and punctuates her statement with a boop to your nose.

"Yes, yes, you'll get your revenge later, Daniela. Let's not keep Mother waiting." You're hoisted up by the hand. The warm comforters falling off your back and piling on the big chair, instantly making you shiver with the lack of heat. The three women walk away and you have no other option than to follow them.

The door is opened and inside you find yourelf gaping at the amount of books stacked on the big shelves. You can count with one hand the times you've been in a house that has its own library, but this one by far takes the cake. "Can i grab a book?" You ask to Miss Dark Hair, pointing to one of the nearestt bookshelves while giving your trademark Puppy Eyes.

"What? You want to read?"

"Book." You say, pointing again insistently to the bottom row of antique books.

"Sure, go have your fun while Mother arrives." Miss Blonde nods and you waste no time to grab the fattest, heaviest book of them all and sit on the floor with your legs crossed, only to sigh in dissapointment as the book is in a language you yet again can't understand. But as you flip the pages you can see that it has very depicting images of old eras that you find fascinating.

You don't notice the time passing as you 'read' undisturbingly, until a big hand is placed on your shoulder and you almost jump out of yor skin, closing the book with a snap, effectively losing the page where the images told you the process to make soap.

"Someone's been studying, i see." The Tall Lady from before stands before you in all her height and you cand help but to rake your gaze all over that goddess until you reach her eyes, not without your flushed face at the end. "So, i brought you here for a reason." She says while her hand motions you to stand. "Here at the Dimitrescu Castle we are in possesion of many doors to knowledge, which does include many books that offer some insight about other countries along with their tongues." You're nodding along whatever she's saying, not a single word ringing a bell in your understanding but to you it would be impolite to leave her hanging. Tall Lady stops in her tracks, in front of a very dusty bookshelf with even older books. Her hand goes from side to side selecting several books which she then hands to you.

You eye the books curiously and you notice that they're a vast collections of translating dictionaries, all varying in length and language. You kneel and start looking through them, being mindful of the most antique and delicate ones. You spot a thin one but with a very familiar dialect and you look up to give Tall Lady a toothy smile. "This one is! Uh... Wait, let's see." You open the book and look through the content searching for words. You stand and motion the lady to lean a bit and start pointing words.

'Student.'

'Cold.'

'Lost'

'Thankful."

As you keep making sense with the few words you're provided, the expression on the lady's face changes to a one of understanding and pity. She pulls out a very fancy-looking pair of glasses out from who knows where and takes the book from your hands, flipping through it's pages, looking for words of her own.

'Stay.'

'Dinner.'

'Sleep.'

'Rest.'

She points word by word and you get the hint. You nod eagerly and smile. Tall Lady smiles back at you and for a second there you feel your heart paralize. You could have sworn you saw a pair of unusually long canines on that pearly white smile. But surely you're just tired, right?

"Daniela, please take our guest to one of the spare rooms." The lady says gesturing to the red-haired young woman.

"Yes, Mother." And the next thing you know your being lead by the arm out of the room.

Once you're gone the tall lady's whole demeanor changes to one of anger and she let's out a frustrated sigh. "The nerve of those villagers. To send a foreigner as the monthly offering! No wonder why the man-thing you brought was insisting it was a mistake."

"They're not respecting the deal, Mother. Should i make them understand who they're dealing with?"

The Tall Lady's pointer finger rests on her lips as she thinks. "No. I'd like to have a word with the leader." She put the book on a the nearrest table with a bit too much force, snapping the poor table in half. "Bela, bring him to me."

---------

Part two is up. Less comedy, more plot. This isn't planned to be long so maybe this will only have one or two more chapters.

@thejennystuttle

[maxirueee]

AU Alberu's POV as the experimented Beru

Alberu: Cale?

Cale: ...nggh..yes?

Cale rubs his eyes as he tried to open them slowly only to see his lover looking right at him with a nervous expression.

Alberu: I suddenly had a bad dream.

Cale: It's literally 3am in the morning.

Alberu: mm..yea- well *fidgeting*

Cale: Spit it out. What was your bad dream about Beru?

Alberu: DON'T CALL ME THAT ANYMORE- PLEASE just please I'm begging you...

Cale was in deep shock that his lover raised his voice at him just because of what? He called him by his nickname?

Cale: Didn't you tell me multiple times that I should stop calling you 'hyung' when we finally got together?

Alberu: I-its not that.. I just-

Cale: Tell me what's wrong Beru.

Alberu: THAT'S the PROBLEM.

Cale: Which is??

Alberu: That nickname, in my dream I was suddenly trapped in a flat boxed screen, I couldn't move but all I could do was smile. Smiling while looking towards the horizon which seemed endless. White. Blank.

ALberu: After a few minutes I suddenly heard voices. At first, there were a lot of compliments about how radiant I loo-

Cale: Are you even sure that's a bad dream?

Alberu: Yeah it is a bad dream!

Cale: Aren't you just totally flaunting how good-looking you are? You're srsly waking me up in the middle of the night because of this? I'm going back to slee-

Alberu: I SWEAR THAT'S NOT IT!

Cale looks back at Alberu who had a look of desperation. Cale couldn't distinguish if what he's seen rolling down the face of his beloved was sweat or tears. Maybe both. Well, he might as well comfort his lover since that was his job. Alberu: I heard giggles, squeals, people were shrieking with how I finally appeared. They kept saying that I looked so dazzling, how I sparkled. They were even speaking the same annoying lines that you tell me every time with your glib tongue.

Cale: Whatever do you mean oh shining sun of the Roan Empi-

Alberu: My point exactly *glaring at Cale*

Cale: Alright go on.

Alberu: It went on for days, I couldn't tell how long I was trapped in that frame-like screen window, all of a sudden I reverted back to my dark elf form.

Cale continues to stare at him, already feeling bored as he watched Alberu continue ranting his struggle of a mere dream. Although he found it amusing as he heard him say the next lines.

Alberu: But it didn't stop there, my hair color suddenly changed to a blood-red color just like yours Cale. I was the spitting image of you. And the voices agreed on how we really are sworn brothers if we just switched hair colors.

Cale: Hoh...

'There must be something more to this if it actually made the emperor of the Roan Kingdom have buckets of sweat rolling down his pretty face.'

Alberu: It was until I heard somebody say, 'How about a Pink Haired Beru?'

Cale: Huh?

Alberu: My hair color immediately changed to pink, then sky blue, then green, then orange, then red again. I didn't know when it'd stop but I couldn't even budge. Even when I wanted to so bad.

Alberu looked dead straight in Cale's eyes, with both his hands firmly holding his partner's shoulders, but ironically he was shaking. Alberu Crossman was shaking in fear. For what reason? Is this another one of the Sun God's pranks to his lover? Perhaps it was the God of Death again? He continues to ponder at the annoying thought that maybe divine beings were messing around his precious people again but stopped as Alberu continued speaking his worries.

Alberu: I thought it was okay since it was just a hair color change..then a woman's voice asked with great anticipation, "HOW ABOUT A BALD AND A MOHAWKBERU?"

Alberu: I continued to smile, even when my luscious golden blonde hair was instantly gone and I was suddenly bald. BALD! I saw numerous hearts floating in front of me and I could hear the mockery and laughter of beings I could not even see. Yet I continued to smile.

Cale was speechless.

Alberu: For some reason, I could read the words floating in front of me. "EVERYBODY GIVE IT UP FOR THE ROAN KINGDOM'S FAVORITE SHINING SUN- BALDBERU" is what it said. More hearts appeared at a scary rate and I couldn't even shout or move. I was terrified.

Alberu glared at the person in front of him like a mad man. Cale just shut up and listened to whatever he said, Alberu really looked mental.

Alberu: The woman from a while ago spoke again, I swear her voice was scary beyond belief. She added "Okay everybody hold up- Now imagine DELINQUENT HAIRCUT AlBERU"

Alberu: My hair suddenly grew back twice as much and it was styled into this weird looking hairdo...

Cale continued to have his stoic face which made Alberu feel relieved. Little does he know Cale was on the verge of laughing his ass off-

ALberu: I suddenly heard "JOSUBERU I CAN'T WITH THIS FANDOM- YA'LL REALLY DID IT U PUNKS" again from that mortifying woman since earlier, apparently it was done by a group of people claiming to be my fans?! BUT THE MONSTROSITY THEY'VE- no that wasn't even half of it

Cale: 'There's actually more?! PFFFFFT' I see, continue then. The prince saw his darling sweetheart Cale shaking as if he was sympathizing with what he was going through. At that very moment, he felt touched by his lover's empathy towards himself.

Alberu: The horrors didn't end just there as I was still waiting for the whole nightmare to be over, they were begging for a 'Voldeberu' which I don't even understand, at that point, I SUDDENLY LOST MY NOSE!!

I WAS BALD AGAIN AND MY NOSE DISAPPEARED YET I WAS STILL SMILING. I HAVE NEVER FELT SO MUCH FEAR IN MY LIFE.

Alberu: Somebody then proposed a 'Clowberu' AND MY FACE SUDDENLY BECAME A CLOWN WEARING MAKEUP. The hardships I had to take while staying still like a fucking mannequin. BUT IT STILL DIDNT STOP THERE.

Cale almost broke into laughter as he wanted to continue listening to his lover's amusing dream! If he laughs now Alberu might as well punch him in the face.

Alberu: I wanted to cry, I pleaded with the Sun God in my head that I want this to stop but I didn't get what I wanted. Instead, a chatbox suddenly appeared, I almost pissed my pants reading at the schemes of those so-called 'fans' had for me.

Cale: Oho.. what did you s-see then? 'Pfft'

Alberu: "LET'S MAKE HIS SKIN GREEN WITH ONLY ONE EYE, MIKE WAZOWSKIEBERU" "We need a butt, BUTTBERU" "I still didn't get my mohawhkberu!" "TWIN TAILESBERU" "AFROBERU!" "MONKBERU!" "SANGWOOBERU" "COWBERU" "UCHIHABERU" "I SAY NUNBERU! NUNBERU SUPREMACY RISE!!!!!!"

I DON'T EVEN WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT MIKE WAZOWSKI BERU! BUT THEY WANT MY HEAD TO BE A COW?! HOW COULD THEY TO THE EMPEROR OF THE RO-

Cale couldn't handle it anymore he bursts out laughing, almost in tears.

Cale: BUHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAH!!! If only I was there to see it all! I ca- I CANT! MIKE WAZOW- WAZOWSKI HAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAH AND AFRO?! HAHAHAHAHAHA

Alberu: How could you be laughing at my pain?!

Cale: Oh dear emperor of mine, isn't it fine that you have such 'entertaining fans' of yours?

Alberu: Entertaining can't even describe those lots... They all praised me for how I was the rising sun of the Roan Kingdom as they humiliated my every being. To the point where they even planned on turning me into 'LIGHTBULBERU'. A FUCKING LIGHTBULB BECAUSE THEY WANT ME TO SHINE LITERALLY. A WALKING FLASHLIGHT KING. ME. ALBERU CROSSMAN.

Cale: PFFT HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Alberu: Haaaahh... You don't understand because you were never in my position. Those fans were a bunch of lunatics I say, LUNATICS!

What Alberu doesn't know is that we, the fandom won't just stop there...

Alberu felt shivers down his spine as he recalled the very vivid and realistic experience he had inside his dream.

Cale: I am so telling this to Tasha, my esteemed and very much adored Beru <3

Alberu: JUST CALL ME HYUNG PLEASE!!

The trauma seemed to have sunken deep into his mind that every time Cale calls him by that nickname, he subconsciously touches his hair and nose in order to reassure himself that it's still there.

I'm tagging these superb beings for making the thread LEGENDARY: @cale-alberu @chunnicalesimp @thescarletguard @trashduchesshenituse-reblogs @farmercale @just-a-sleepy-person @annerisk @pile-of-sticks @trash-duchess-henituse @icyteaa