#just the thought that perhaps there is an alternative we could try... or at least that there should be

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Arcanum Amorem

ACTUS PRIMUS: PART I

Also on AO3

Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 3.2k words

Summary: A request for my beloved mutual @chibipeachu <33 // AU inspired by Romeo and Juliet, where you meet a gladiator on the first night of the Saturnalia, and both of you seem to be immediately struck by Cupid's arrow.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (this fic is 18+), Alternate Universe (no emperor Lucius), deviation from canon, Lucius and Reader are in their 20s, forbidden love, slight power imbalance, fluff, some angst, eventual smut, potentially some depictions of violence, no death at the end, jealousy, alcohol consumption (wine), potentially some historical inaccuracies (SORRY), and I think that's it but lmk if anything else!

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

Favorable match… Political allies… One more year…

Your name was whispered behind you, but you quickly shushed them without bothering to see who it was. Your ear was pressed against the door to your father’s tablinum, trying to listen in on his conversation with a young suitor who had come to ask for your hand. It was already hard enough to hear anything over the harsh pounding of your heart and you didn’t need any more distractions.

But your name was insistently hissed again, much closer to your other ear, and you glared over your shoulder at the culprit — your cousin, Alba. Before you could say anything, though, there was shuffling inside the room, and the two of you quickly scurried down the hall to hide in Alba’s bedroom. Unconsciously, you took her hand and squeezed her fingers anxiously.

You heard the tablinum’s door open, followed by loud male voices trailing towards the atrium. You peered into the hallway and saw your father clapping the suitor’s shoulder, both laughing boisterously. Their backs were to you, so you couldn’t see more than his profile, and you wondered if he even knew what you looked like. Not like it really mattered anyway, as marriage was usually about forming ties with other powerful families. Perhaps his ambition was the only thing he cared about, and you loathed him all the more for it. 

Alba misinterpreted the scowl on your face, huffing with amusement.

“Are you so eager to see who wants to court you?” She said, a teasing edge to her tone. “You’ll meet him soon enough at your father’s party. The Saturnalia would be an auspicious time for an engagement, don’t you think?”

“It’s not that!” You scoffed, making the sign of the evil eye and crossing your arms over your chest. “I actually would much prefer not to meet him at all.”

She raised an eyebrow, bewildered but still amused. “And why is that?”

“Because I don’t want to be married off to a complete stranger. Is that so unreasonable?” 

She rolled her eyes, waving you off. “We’ve all gotten nervous about marriage at one point. I am sure your father would not accept an offer from someone who wasn’t kind, at least.”

You shrugged one shoulder, unsure. “Unless he had the right name.”

“Come now, let’s not be too pessimistic, dear cousin! Married life isn’t all that terrible, I promise,” she said. “And nothing is set in stone yet, but you have to realize that even if it isn’t him, it’ll be someone else.”

Her tone was meant to be placating, but to you, it seemed more like the kind one used when addressing a petulant child, which irritated you even more.

“Well, it’s easy for you to say. Quintus is almost always on campaign, so you don’t have to deal with him all that much.”

“Though I deal with our boys, who happen to be just like him,” she pointed out with a sigh, though a fond smile tugged at her lips. “Quintus is kind, if absent, but we live comfortably and I have to be grateful for that.”

You sighed heavily, knowing you wouldn’t get anywhere in this conversation. Alba meant well, but she was quite content to do what was asked of her without a second thought. Everything was as the Gods willed it, she always said. Why spit in the face of the Gods by asking for more when she already had everything she needed?

You had always known your fate would be marriage, but you had foolishly held out hope that you would have a choice in the matter. Still, every one of your senses rebelled at the mere thought of anything else. At least Alba was right in that nothing was set in stone yet, so you still had time to come up with an alternative… and perhaps come to terms with whatever consequences would come out of it. 

“Come, you must be starving,” she said, her tone conciliating, sliding an arm over your shoulders. “Let us get some dinner and speak of other things, alright?”

You hesitated, but your stubborn resolve fell away at the hopeful, earnest look on her face. Despite your differences, you loved each other, and you knew she only wanted the best for you. You could at least get some solace from that. You gave her a tentative smile and nodded, letting her squeeze you against her. 

“Lead the way, then.”

—----------------------

Lucius had no expectations about the party he was being dragged to. Because it was the Saturnalia, he was not expected to fight for the guests’ entertainment, which was a relief, but it would certainly feel strange to be a guest of sorts. He still wasn’t sure how Ravi knew the host – a respected politician who had been elected Aedile that past July – or how he managed to convince him to let a gladiator join the celebrations. But then again, it was the only holiday where all the social norms were overturned, and so he didn’t question it too much.

The guards posted at the front gate nodded at Ravi in recognition, letting them both in. Music and a cacophony of voices greeted them as they passed by the atrium, growing louder as Ravi led him through the house towards the gardens. Carafes of wine, platters of fruit, and other refreshments were passed around for everyone to indulge, but Lucius was too preoccupied with taking in the scene. 

There were a few panel portraits of the family on the walls by the main hall, but he couldn’t get a good look at any of them. Wealth was spelled out in the form of intricate mosaics and large frescoes, but there was nothing pretentious enough to be in bad taste. The dining room faced the garden and was open on two sides, letting the evening air circulate, bringing about the smell of roses. By the central pool, musicians played in earnest, the melody playful and uplifting. A few people danced, but others were content to clap and sing along. The atmosphere was relaxed and full of merriment, and Lucius found himself getting a little infected by all of it. 

“Not bad, right?” Ravi said, noticing the look on his face.

“Certainly better than the barracks,” Lucius said with a small shrug, trying to appear nonchalant.

Ravi chuckled, searching for a familiar face among the crowd. Lucius caught the eye of a pair of ladies and smiled at them politely, nodding in acknowledgment. The two of them giggled flirtatiously and whispered to each other, but he looked away so he wouldn’t encourage them to approach.

“There he is,” Ravi said, pointing to the other side of the garden. “Come, we should greet our host.”

As he was dragged off again, you finally emerged from your room, unable to stall any longer. Nerves and dread had you on edge, unpleasantly settling in the pit of your stomach. You served yourself a cup of wine from a nearby table and downed it for courage, putting on what you hoped was a normal-looking smile as you headed outside. A few guests stopped to greet you, exchanging a few pleasantries, but you were too distracted to engage too deeply in conversation. 

You saw Alba ushering her two young sons back inside, both of them grievously protesting their bedtime. She shared a conspiratorial look with you as she passed, rolling her eyes, and you snickered, inclining your head to let her know you’d wait for her to return. In the meantime, you watched the musicians for a moment, merely enjoying the lively folk song they were playing.

Across the garden, still unnoticed by you, Ravi was introducing Lucius to your father. He looked over Lucius’s armor – which happened to be his best garment for the occasion – lingering on the twin rearing horses and the griffins just beneath, the steel glinting in the firelight. 

“I recognize you,” your father said to Lucius. “Did I not just see you at the games the other day? Set against that Barbary lion?”

Lucius nodded and your father raised his eyebrows, impressed. “Few have faced such a mighty beast and lived to tell the tale. You are quite the fierce fighter.”

“You honor me with your words. I thank you,” Lucius said, placing a hand on his breastplate, right above his heart.

Your father looked around and spotted you across the central pool, still standing by yourself. Lucius followed his gaze and immediately straightened upon seeing you. You were swathed in rich purple fabric, adorned by garlands of flowers and dainty gold jewelry – like an Oread descended from the hills to grace the mortals with her radiant, unearthly beauty. Your eyes were closed in reverie as you swayed slightly to the music, a serene smile on your face. 

It was as if he had been struck by a divine beam, anchoring him in place. The rest of the party seemed to fall away, and even sound couldn’t reach him. He opened his mouth to say something, but he was unable to grasp the right words. Your father glanced back and saw the expression on his face, realization sinking in like a heavy stone. Some of his geniality disappeared, a cool politeness taking over. Ravi elbowed Lucius to get his attention and he cleared his throat, blinking the daze out of his eyes. 

“You’ll have to excuse me, I must go speak to my daughter. It was a pleasure to see you, my friend.” Your father clapped Ravi’s shoulder, then turned his hardened gaze on Lucius. “And a pleasure to meet you, as well. Let us hope the Gods continue to favor you in the arena.”

Both Ravi and Lucius dipped their heads in a small, polite bow. Just as he started walking towards you, you finally spotted them. For a moment, your eyes met those of the handsome gladiator, shock at his presence just barely registering before intrigue set in. The intensity with which he looked at you, with the unwavering focus of a hunter, sent a shiver down your spine. For once, the urge to flee was accompanied by the faint wish he might give chase. You frowned slightly in confusion at your own thoughts, but you did not move, only averting your gaze when your father reached you.

“Hello, little starling,” he said fondly, kissing your temple. “How generous of you to finally grace us with your presence.”

You grinned lopsidedly, rolling your eyes at him without any real annoyance. “Who was it you were just talking to?”

“An old friend, from my time in the army,” he said, studiously avoiding talking about Lucius. “You know, daughter, there is someone I would like you to meet tonight.”

“Oh?” you said, trying to sound casual despite the icy dread spreading in your chest. 

“Yes, the son of a good friend of mine who’s in the senate, Cassius. He is just getting started in politics, but he shows a lot of promise. Smart young man.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I-is he here already?”

“I don’t believe so, but why don’t I find you when he is? Here comes your cousin,” he said, smiling at her. “How goes it, dear Alba? You finally put those two rapscallions down?”

She nodded, huffing out a tired laugh. “A most arduous task… if it weren’t for my cousin here, I would have surely gone to bed myself.”

You snuck a glance at the other side of the garden once more, realizing the gladiator no longer stood there. Had he already left? You looped your arm through Alba’s, trying not to seem too keen to go looking for him. 

“Walk with me, perhaps it’ll help you stay awake,” you said.

“Just stay out of trouble, you two,” your father said, seemingly joking, but there was an undercurrent of sternness you did not miss. “And don’t stray too far.”

You tugged Alba away as your father turned to greet more guests. You walked with urgency without realizing it, practically dragging her along. You scanned the faces of those around you, but you had no luck finding him yet. 

“Slow down!” Alba exclaimed. “Where are you taking me?”

You snapped out of whatever frantic daze had gripped you. “N-nowhere, cousin. I suppose I am just… anxious.”

She wagged her eyebrows suggestively, but you scoffed, shaking your head. You grabbed another cup of wine from a nearby tray and drank, then handed it to her so she’d finish it off. You forced yourself to slow down, your disappointment growing as you did a full lap of the garden without even a glimpse of the gladiator. Alba was chattering off about some new gossip, but you weren’t really listening, absently nodding along.

What was once mildly pleasant about the party suddenly became overstimulating and oppressive. Your breathing became shallow with anxiety and your mind scrambled for an excuse to get away from everyone for a few minutes.

“Oh, I forgot to show you the lovely new brooch my mother got me,” you said, feigning excitement as you tried to swallow past the knot in your throat. “Let me go fetch it! I’ll be right back.”

“Are you sure? We could wait until tomorrow,” she said, frowning with confusion as you disentangled from her. 

“No, no, I couldn’t possibly wait to show you! You’ll absolutely love it. Just wait here!”

Without giving her time to respond, you slipped through the crowd, hurrying past the dining room. As soon as all the sound dimmed into the background, you heaved a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping. The light in the corridor was dimmer, the shadows offering more cover for you to sneak about. As you headed towards your bedroom, you spotted someone standing by the main hall, gazing at the portraits. You did a double take and recognized his armor first, your heart racing once again. You’d finally found him!

You glanced around to make sure there were no more stragglers. It was a great risk to you and your family’s honor to be there with him unaccompanied, but curiosity overrode your senses. It was as if you’d been bewitched, approaching him slowly, like a somnambulist. You stopped an appropriate distance away, not brave enough to get too close to him.

“Hello,” you said tentatively, your voice slightly tremulous. 

He looked over at you, momentarily taken aback at seeing you in the flesh. You glanced at the wall, noticing it was your portrait he’d been looking at. Your cheeks were instantly aflame, a thrill dancing under your skin. He huffed with self-reproaching amusement, shaking his head, and looked away as if ashamed he’d been caught doing something he was not supposed to. 

“It does not compare in the slightest,” he said after a moment, his voice soft.

You tilted your head curiously. “What do you mean?”

“The portrait,” he explained, glancing at you sidelong. “It does no justice to your present beauty.”

Your face grew even hotter at that, and you smiled bashfully. “You are much too kind. What is your name?”

“Lucius,” he said. “Though I am not commonly known by that name. Can you keep the secret?”

You nodded, placing a hand over your heart so he’d see you meant it. You smiled at each other before looking away once more, and you inched a little closer. He was even more attractive up close, but you restrained yourself from studying every detail of his face. The few times you’d attended games at the arena, you’d been forced to sit all the way at the back with the rest of the women. You’d recognized the fighter’s grace in the way he carried himself, standing with his shoulders squared and his head high. But you’d never been anywhere near talking distance to a gladiator, much less as the subject of their attention. That was another thrill in itself, which only made his allure greater.

“How do you know my father?” You asked.

“I don’t,” he said. “We have a mutual friend, that is all. He was merely gracious enough to let me into his house.”

“Well, I, for one, am very glad he did,” you said. “Though that is not to say I was not surprised to see you.”

He hummed thoughtfully, glancing down the hall. “I do not presume he knows where you are right now?”

You shook your head. “Oh, I would not be standing here if he did. He can be quite overprotective, as you can imagine. So… I guess we will both be keeping secrets tonight.”

You shared a conspiratorial smile and he turned to face you with renewed interest. His blue eyes roamed over you to further take you in, but you looked away, feeling all too exposed under his rapt attention. 

“Well, I cannot say I blame him, with such a precious jewel at home.”

From the corner of your eye, you noticed he inched a little closer, too. You pursed your lips, beyond pleased, but you wouldn’t give in so easily to pretty words.

“Does flattery always come so easily to you?” You asked, teasing, as you turned to face him, too. 

He chuckled, taking another small step closer. “Not before tonight.”

You hummed noncommittally, narrowing your eyes as if you didn’t believe him. 

“I wonder how many fair Roman ladies have heard the same…” You mused. “Perhaps I’ll have to put you to the test, to see if you really mean what you say.”

He laughed, unoffended, the sound hearty and genuine. “You spell trouble, my lady.”

You batted your lashes to appear innocent. “Me? I have done nothing!”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yet.”

Suddenly, you heard your name being called from the other side of the house. It was Alba again, and her voice was growing closer. You swore under your breath, glancing over your shoulder to make sure she wasn’t in sight yet.

“I must go,” you said hastily, trying not to seem too distressed. “Forgive me, I-I really thought we would have more time to talk.”

“I will find you before the night ends,” he said resolutely, taking your hands. “I won’t be leaving just yet.”

“My bedroom faces a balcony,” you said, lowering your voice. “Wait until everyone has gone to sleep, when the night is darkest, and I’ll meet you there. Be careful.”

He nodded, bringing your hands to his lips and kissing your knuckles, all while holding your gaze. You painstakingly pulled away, casting one last glance at him before dashing to the west wing of the house, where your room was. 

You dug through your jewelry box and picked out a fine bronze brooch, straightening just as Alba reached the doorway. Your heart was hammering in your chest like a hare’s being pursued by hunters, but you tried to smile casually. 

“What happened, cousin? I told you it would be too much trouble to look for it tonight,” she said, though she seemed more excited than irritated. “Your father sent me to look for you. Cassius is here!”

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

[easy-there-leftovers]

I See You, Darling

[Astarion x reader] The idea never left my mind, and I so very badly need this right now. Heavily inspired by this cutscene where Tav chooses a dialogue option and Astarion's eyes just deviate-- (gif above, just wait for his eyes to look at you WKDKWKDK) |Word count: 2k.| Based off of this post I made.

Part 2 here!!

Also, this is more heavy on the world building rather than dialogue. If I end up making this a series, I might write with more dialogue in mind but it was just necessary to do this first afhjaqfbnjkafbnebn--

A story in which an overworked art student longs for a fictional character that they've devoted so much of their time to.

Alternatively; Astarion realizes there's someone else watching him. And he can't wait to get acquainted with them.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

You’ll admit, perhaps you were simply tired. Attending a prestigious school for the arts doesn’t exactly leave you with much free time to indulge in more calming forms of recreation. Your course requires you to consume a wide array of media to expand your library of creativity, after all. All in the name of generating more interesting media to entrance and enthrall your audience with your original work. 

Maybe all the moving pictures and swimming texts have caused you to greatly misunderstand what you are seeing. Surely, your favorite character isn’t looking directly at you, right?

Right?

But before that, let’s review what might have happened earlier to explain just what exactly in gods name is happening.

Shall we?

——

You purchased the game a few months back. “Baldur’s Gate 3.” A game that took the players and immersed them in the world of Dungeons & Dragons, introducing them to the mechanics of tabletop RPG as they did. It seemed interesting enough. And if the concept of character creation and storytelling didn’t sell you on the idea of it, the pretty faces on the cover certainly did.

So, with the little money you could spare from your part time job at your own institution’s library, and with what little sanity you had left to argue with, you impulsively bought said game. And it was fun. Exhilarating. Electrifying. 

Until you ran into a problem.

Astarion. The rogue, elven vampire that you have chosen to romance after careful deliberation. You scoffed to yourself. He was one of the biggest reasons why you purchased the blasted game at all. You’ve carefully studied the character in all his glory, from his striking carmine eyes and delicate unstained curls, to his aptitude for bloodshed and all manners of gore. He was such an interesting character, giving you more and more reason to pursue him as the story progressed. Yet the same can’t be said about your relationship with him. Or at least your “Tav’s” relationship with him. 

You’ve had some difficulty in deepening your relationship with the ex-magistrate. It seemed as if no matter what options you chose, no matter what manner of advances you made, he’d be quick to dismiss you. Painting you as a desperate little pup as he did. Denying you the opportunity of further knowing him. You’ve created and overwritten more save slots than you'd like to admit, perusing each one to select different lines of dialogue only to be rejected time and time again.

You thought it strange. But perhaps this was simply the way his route was meant to unfold. He was such an incredibly complex character after all. Perhaps this was meant to prove the party’s loyalty. 

But that didn’t stop you from being frustrated with other aspects of the gameplay. You've spent countless nights hunched on your work chair, back curving like a dead bug as you analyzed each and every possible outcome in combat. Eyes, bloodshot from cutting your sleeping hours short, just to endure the story until you were at an appropriate place to log out. And hair, flicking and curling out in different directions due to you weaving your hands through them in exasperation. 

You saw your reflection on your screen as it darkened to load the next scene and you couldn't help but stare at your character in slight envy. You know full well that however you designed them, it wouldn’t affect how the others perceived you, and yet you couldn’t help but pretty them up for your own interest. You designed it with yourself in mind, but making them far more attractive than you would ever be. Effortlessly beautiful as they stirred to wake up in the forest you settled in for camp.

How could Astarion ever turn this beautiful being away? If not for their heroism, then surely their looks would be enough to draw him in, no?

And speak of the devil. Once you could control your character again, you readied them to interact with your sharply dressed companion. Wanting to try your luck once more as the bright sun shone upon your character like a promise of a new day. Unfortunately, you’re greeted with a look of boredom, oh so familiar, that you sigh. “I hope you’re not here to beg—” Mocking him, echoing the words you’ve come to expect with faux mirth in your voice. But you cut yourself short when you realize he has yet to say anything. 

Strange.

 What’s even stranger is that he's just staring at you. Well,--- he’s staring at Tav. Your character.

“What the fuck…?” You move your mouse around, clicking to try and toggle the dialogue options to no avail, screen stuck in a cinematic close up of his face. Much like how the camera always pans when awaiting your response. 

However, unlike the common script of his actions that you’re used to, the one that you’ve memorized like a well practiced dance, his eyes smoothly glide off of your character and onto you. 

You freeze, but your heart doesn’t. The beating of your chest growing stronger the longer he looks at you. Eyes, blood red like rubies, boring into your own. He regards you, blinks, and then smiles that deviously charming smile of his before your screen turns dark. Your computer turns off, and you stare in shock of what just happened.

‘No fucking way, no fucking way, no fucking way—‘ You’re not delusional, right? Sure, you’re tired, but no fucking way did you just imagine one of the hottest characters you’ve seen in a while break the fourth wall just to fuck with you.

You laugh to yourself.

Yes, you’re just tired. Nothing like a good four hours of sleep can’t remedy. Although, as you get up from your chair, foolish as it may seem, you grab a used shirt from your floor, and hang it on your computer in the case that those piercing eyes come to life once again while you sleep.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you get ready for the day, you notice your dirtied clothing still on your computer. Covering it as if it were a petrifying doll from a horror movie. You feel childish for doing so, reasoning that you were simply stressed from the events that taken place prior and removed the cloth.

As you did, your screen was brought back to life. Showing you the next night as if your little "tryst" with Astarion never happened. An entire thirty minutes or so of progress seemingly gone. Thankfully, you saved just before your game went haywire and you attempted to load up your last slot. 

Zzzt Zzzzt!

Alas, your game was not cooperating once again. You tried the save just before that and the same error screen presented itself to you. ‘Maybe this is a sign that I should just fucking work instead.’ Irritated at the thought, you moved to log out of the game but a familiar voice convinces you otherwise as the screen returns to normal. 

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” 

‘Is this— a romance scene?!’ Astarion had never initiated an interaction before! Perhaps the game gods were granting you mercy. Or maybe, something you did last night might have given way for this line of dialogue to open up. Regardless, you happily took the opportunity and began reading your choices.

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” ━─━────༺༻────━─━

Well. Thank you.

It’s none of your concern, fangs.

Better now that you’re here.

What happened last night?

━─━────༺༻────━─━

What…did happen last night? You don’t recall anything past the blackening of your screen, but it looks like you did something after that which caused this dialogue.

You don’t want to squander this opportunity, who knows when this will happen again, but your curiosity gets the best of you. So you save, and choose option 4. 

“Oh, you poor thing. Spooked you, did I?” He laughs, seemingly taking in the look of confusion that graces both yours and Tav’s face.

“What do you think happened last night?”

“My fucking game crashed.” You answer automatically.

Tav moves to open their mouth but is silenced with a tut. “Not you, spawn.” His eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement, but the way his mouth is pulled in a tightly-lipped smile offers you further insight otherwise. 

“I need your answer.” His eyes are on you yet again, and you feel the world begin to spin.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you plan to get ready for the day, you notice you’re not exactly in a state to do so. You expected to wake at dawn, the dark and cool air to greet you as it fills your room and envelops your walls. Instead, you wake to see an endless amount of evergreen and the smell of the dark and damp grass beneath you filling your senses.

And if spending hours, weeks, months, of playing this damned game has taught you anything, you know that you now reside in the heart of the forest that you usually set up camp in. But this time, you're far from your bedroll and the fire that your party created.

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far to no avail. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

And this chill so does love playing games.

You clamber away on your knees when you hear that deep chuckle of his emanate from right beside your ear. Creating as much distance to inspect this figure you’ve yet to face.

You see Astarion in all his vampiric glory. ‘Well, for a vampire spawn, I guess.’ You comment to yourself. Crimson eyes, darker than you imagined, with full, dark lashes contrasting his pallid skin and pure hair that glow under the moonlight. An unsettling, and cursedly attractive, smirk curls onto his lips. His ivory fangs on full display as he does.

“It seems as if those useless artifacts were worth something.” He marvels at his handiwork, his prize, and approaches it with confidence. 

“Well, your character certainly is more ‘prettied up.’” He circles you, carefully appraising his newest asset, and grins. “But you are far more intriguing.”

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster.

“Although, you are very cute. Cheeky little pup, aren’t you?” He jests.

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster which earns you a click of his tongue in response.

“You’re not broken, are you? Or am I to anticipate your little ‘what the fuck?’s as your only contribution?” Long, and incredibly masculine, fingers crawl and curl to grasp your chin like a spider. 

“I’ve waited months to have you. And now here you are, finally within my grasp.” The statement causes something to stir within you.

“What do you mean, ‘months?” 

He narrows his eyes, possibly trying to comprehend your stupidity.

“I’ve been watching you. Waiting, for the right moment. Interacting with this– caricature of yourself until you could deny yourself of me no more.” Blood rushes to your head. Your cheeks burning in embarrassment for seeming overly eager. And in panic as his intentions have yet to be cleared.

“And now that I’m here? Do you want to kill me?” You feel your heartbeat in your ears, awaiting his response. Your eyes wide in fear, yet trying to fake heroic bravado in the attempts to gain the upperhand.

And in this moment, he thinks you absolutely invigorating.

“Oh no, sweet pet. I’ve waited far too long for that. I’m going to make you mine.”

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Should I make this into a series? "The adventures of a misplaced artist in Baldur's Gate!!" Or something like that. Let me know, lol

[sunderwight]

Honestly fascinated trying to figure out how both of Ambessa's kids ended up being diametrically opposed to her whole jock spartan might-makes-right mentality.

Tthe obvious answer, of course, is that Ambessa's husband (Kino's dad, and the guy Mel thought was her bio dad until recently) was way more of a diplomat and way less of a fighter, both philosophically as well as in terms of skill. And that he's the one who passed this on to the kids.

This fits well enough as an answer. The guy in the portrait certainly looks more like a talker than a fighter, and we know that Ambessa has a thing for pretty, submissive men thanks to her whole introduction in S1. Also, regardless of Mel's genetics this is presumably the man who raised her and is her father in the "nurture" sense of the equation, so it would be completely reasonable for her to take after him.

However, there are a few issues here.

One is the fact that even when Mel is talking to who she thinks is Kino about the possibility of one of them being a bastard, or of a bastard half-sibling existing, neither of them mention their father at all. While I doubt either of them would hold illusions about Ambessa remaining faithful to a spouse (for all we know the guy's still alive while she's off carousing with twinks), you would think that if both kids were close to their dad or took after him particularly, there'd be at least a passing mention of him in the midst of this discussion.

Maybe Mr. Medarda died a long time ago, though. Perhaps it's a topic so buried that it's an established habit to simply never mention it. Or maybe there is an issue of estrangement between him and his children for other reasons. He doesn't seem to have factored into Ambessa's decision to send Mel away, nor is his potential grief brought up around the subject of Kino. Despite confirmation of his existence, he seems (ironically) to be out of the picture, though it could also just be that the writers wanted to leave their options open for what he might be like in case another Arcane-adjacent series comes into production. I am fairly sure that Mel is the most likely character from Arcane to create continuity into a show about Noxus or Demacia or something, if we get another LoL series, especially since her story feels the most unfinished.

However, there's another possibility, which is that Mr. Medarda up there was such a nonentity in his kids lives that he doesn't come up because there's not much of a relationship to acknowledge. In which case, even if he is more of a diplomat (and he and Ambessa were a political marriage, presumably?) it'd be hard to credit him with influencing the kids so significantly.

One of the interesting things about Mel and Kino is that even though they are at odds with their mother on a lot of topics, topics that even seem to tie into prevailing Noxian cultural ideals (so, things they'd have been overall raised to believe in by the rest of their house and not just their mother too), they are also kind of astonishingly confident in expressing themselves?

So, somebody must have been supporting their alternative viewpoints and validating them as opinions worth expressing, even if they weren't things Ambessa approved of or actually wanted to foster in them as opinions/philosophies.

I think an interesting option is that it was Ambessa herself who did this, actually.

Ambessa's lore mentions that she figured out really early on that Kino did not share her temperament at all. Also, that she started searching about for ways of ensuring not only her house's domination, but the survival of her children specifically. Because the succession in a Noxian noble house doesn't seem to be guaranteed by birthright, which means that Kino and Mel would probably face rivals from their own family if they seemed too weak or vulnerable to lead, and someone else contested it. An easy way to remove a "weak" leader would also be to just kill them off. That's even apart from external rivals (like the ones who actually did kill Kino).

Which means that even if her kids had different values and priorities, Ambessa would probably have wanted them to still present those opinions with ferocity and confidence. If they cower to her, they will cower to others, and that's worse than them just not being aggressive combatants or warlord types. If you're gonna be a peacenik weirdo (by Ambessa's standards) in Noxus then you better damn well still be an assertive one.

I like this idea partly because the image of Ambessa trying to balance her kids having totally alien opinions about things like the value of life and importance of compassion, with trying not to actually beat down their spirits about it. Just spending a lot of their formative years being like, ugh, I have to listen to my nerd ass loser children tell me why they think mercy is a good idea. Such a fucking chore. Anyway great job presenting your arguments kids, lots to think about, let's go get ice cream. Then Mother has to fire one of your military tactics instructors for daring to call you a couple of wieners. Again. Even though she's right.

[drenched-in-sunlight]

Honestly, after finding out that most of the bosses are optional except for Messmer (and of course a few others) just makes it even more sad for me. After finding out the Rellena and Gaius are both optional bosses and not Messmer just shows that those two truly don't share the same fate and Messmer was to truly die alone without ever seeing Marika as well.

yeah and you know the even more messed up part? i think when Marika shattered the Elden Ring, she probably thought that Messmer would be safer in LoS 😭😭 they were separated, but at least her firstborn wouldn't be pulled into the power struggle that would tear everything apart in the Lands Between. and it's true. when we get there... Messmer is safe in Shadow Keep.

ppl in LoS has no idea the Elden Ring was shattered, they just thought it was some serious stuff going on in LB. Messmer was dispirited and sounded tired, but he had resigned to the fate of never seeing his Mother again. if we never showed up i think he'd have no problem waiting for a miracle from her forever.

hell, he didn't even give two fucks that Miquella was going there to become a new God and take his old friend as Consort, or Godwyn knights were running around trying to find a body replacement for their Prince. but well, we have to barge into his house and trigger all his anxiety at a same time because we need his Kindling to go stop Miquella. holy hell.

and don't get me wrong, i understand that thematically, both he and Marika get what is due to them. in their quest for revenge they have done truly horrible crimes, and in the end even their love for each other got twisted into a final curse sealing their fates. but all of it is just so tragic. because, yes, the love was there. maybe it could have gone a lot easier for everyone involved if the love hadn't been there, but it was, and now everyone suffers.

and if you think back about the Dark / Abyss theme in DS1, Manus - Father of the Abyss, was once human. he was consumed by the Abyss because his humanity went wild, trying to look for something that he had lost:

"This extraordinary soul is a viscous, lukewarm lump of gentle humanity."

"The will feels envy, or perhaps love, and despite the inevitable trite and tragic ending, the will sees no alternative, and is driven madly towards its target."

it circles back so perfectly to Marika and Messmer's fates that it got me sitting there staring at a wall. jfc. how the hell did Fromsoft do this again?

[lilac-rose-writes]

An Analysis and Comparison of Cain's Not Able's Original and Alternative Routes

1) Felix pushes Ted in himself/ Ted has Buggs push Felix in

Felix doesn't show any hint of sadness or hesitance when pushing Ted in. It's quick, it's brutal, and he takes pride in doing it himself. He doesn't care about Ted in the slightest. It's his final victory, the last way he can lord his superiority over Ted. It's a demonstration of his resentment, his distaste, all of the times he's dismissed Ted as lesser or unworthy of the company. As little as Felix wants it to appear to eb, it's personal.

And then there's the alternative route. Rather than using the stick or mop that Kid has given him, Ted stands back and orders Buggs to do his work for him. I believe that a large part of this is due to the upset he feels over Felix trying to kill him ("this was a sad day"). He is hesitant, because Felix is his brother, and until now, Ted "thought [his] brother loved [him]". Perhaps he thinks he wouldn't be able to follow through with actually doing away with Felix himself.

With Buggs doing it, there's an element of detachment. This can go one of two ways. It could be a way for Ted to try absolving himself of guilt, because if he didn't commit the murder with his own hands, he at least doesn't have the memory of them shoving his brother to his death. On the other hand, this could be a way of Ted trying to make the whole ordeal more detached from him. The only involvement he's had is giving instructions. Felix isn't even worth Ted's energy anymore, after that sort of a betrayal. Ted stands back and watches it happen, glaring coldly all the while. He's doing his utmost not to care, and for the most part, he's succeeding.

2) What each of them say just before the other is pushed in

This time, Ted's is the personal one. He's more than just correcting Felix's "Teddy"; this is his way of getting back at Felix for every time he's talked down to Ted. We see throughout the game how Felix considers his brother weak and inferior, incapable and idiotic. The nickname "Teddy" is derisive, intended as an insult. It mocks Ted, making him seem softer. "Felix" is professional. "Teddy" is babying and informal.

More than this, though, this line acts as a turning point for Ted. In that moment, he doesn't consider himself as Felix's brother. He doesn't want to be associated with his former self, the one who nodded and stayed silent and tripped over himself to please his brother. Ted is in control here. He's taking on a new identity, a new way of behaving outside of Felix's influence. This isn't about the company. It's about him.

And then there's Felix's last words to his brother, which are about the company. Because when it comes to Felix, everything is. He's been taught to value Applesoft above all else, so that's exactly what he does. He's first the company's heir, second a person. Applesoft takes priority over everything. And that's precisely why Felix is able to murder his brother without the barest indication of remorse.

The entire day, Felix treats Ted's death as nothing more than a business transaction. He wants to be the sole heir. He's dismissed Ted his entire life, but this isn't just Felix getting tired of him and deciding to dispose of him on a whim. He sees it as for the good of Applesoft. And that makes all the difference in the world.

3) How they both respond to the reveal of the plan

On one hand, you've got Ted. The only person preventing him from running away is Felix. Kid and Nugget are stood to the side, Felix is the one who pushes him in. But it's just been revealed to Ted that despite all of his hope otherwise, Felix doesn't care about or love him. He's shocked, and hurt, and betrayed. And there's something inside of him that still wants to believe this is a lie, that Felix will break into an out-of-character grin and mock him for falling for the trick.

He pleads with Felix rather than leaving, because he's so used to giving Felix all of the power that he doesn't know what else to do. Felix is in control because Ted continues to let him be.

I think it's important to note that Ted doesn't say that Felix wouldn't. Just that he "can't". It's a plea, a denial of what's right in front of him. Ted knows his brother is capable of killing him, but he doesn't want to believe it.

Also, Ted says that Felix can't kill him because he "did everything [Felix] said". In this case, that "can't" means that Felix shouldn't be allowed to do away with him. The only reason Ted can see for why Felix might want to kill him is that Ted has done something wrong. He doesn't blame Felix. Ted sees this as his own fault. He's been taught to agree with his brother, keep his mouth shut and stay in line, but even though he's been doing that the entire day, Felix still wants to kill him. Ted wants to be of use, wants to make Felix happy. But nothing he does will ever be enough, because Felix can't see him as anything more than a hindrance. Felix believes Applesoft should be run by someone strong and independent. And to him, Ted is incapable of being either.

On the other hand, there's Felix's reaction. First, he's incredulous. He processes what's going on much faster than Ted did, but rather than feeling betrayed, he throws something of a tantrum. He's so accustomed to Ted following him and doing exactly as he says that when placed in a situation where he has no power, Felix doesn't know how to handle it.

He tries to take back power with the definitive "I will not", but it doesn't work. He continues to call Ted by that same derisive nickname, but that serves as the last straw. And lastly, he does what he does best. He tries to make a deal.

Felix goes from denial to anger to bargaining in a matter of seconds. He defaults to repeating the actions he's practiced, the actions he's been taught. He tries to talk himself out of the hole he's dug, but it no longer works when he's been exposed as a liar. He's shattered the glorified image Ted had of him, and now he can only deal with the consequences.

Even if he does manage to get away and tell someone, it's highly unlikely anyone would believe him- and even if they did, they wouldn't care. The only company Felix has allowed himself to keep is Ted, and he's constantly emphasised how weak and useless his brother is. Saying that he had to run from Ted attempting to kill him sounds more than ludicrous- it would be embarrassing. It would ruin the air of superiority he's so carefully crafted, and any respect people might have had for him would be gone in an instant. All he can do is try to bargain, and insist that this isn't happening, and glare accusatorily at Ted as though he has any right to do so.

4) Both insult their help

While Nugget doesn't care about being called weird and Buggs seems to be okay with being insulted under his own terms, the fact remains that both Felix and Ted have no qualms about hurting people's feelings. They consider themselves above others thanks to the attitudes they've grown up around thus far. The main difference is that Felix sees himself as superior to everyone, and Ted sees the Huxleys as superior to everyone.

Ted apologises after calling Buggs fat because Buggs claims he "said [Ted] could make fun of [Buggs'] poverty, not [his] weight". But Ted must have either forgotten or disregarded this in the first place for that correction to be made. There's probably something more to be said here about Buggs taking pride in where he came from but not in his appearance, but that's a post for another time. I think it's interesting that Ted's picked up Felix's habit of insulting his assistance, and shows quite how big of an influence being around Felix alone has had. Nobody's taught him any differently, so while Ted doesn't have any aim to upset or hurt those working for him or who he considers beneath him, he's learned that it's expected that he does.

5) Their final words inside of the hole

Ted tries to appeal to Felix's (nonexistent) merciful side. If nothing else, he wants his brother to feel guilty about killing him. He wants his suffering to end, for Felix to get some help, to be able to move away from his biggest fear. Felix has done everything he can to make this as unpleasant as possible for Ted, and Ted still doesn't know what he did wrong.

And then there's Felix, who attacks. He does the only thing he knows how to do around Ted, and that's trying to wear his brother down. He clings to the favouritism that makes him feel worthy, makes empty promises because he doesn't want to believe he's replaceable. He calls Ted a failure because he can't come to terms with the fact that he's lost, and because- once again- nothing Ted does will ever make Felix view him as less of a failure.

There's more I could say and more to look into, so I'll possibly expand on this further at a later date. This was a lot of fun to look into and analyse, and I thank you for reading it all! :D

[otomehoneyybearr]

Ikemen Prince 4th Anniversary Eve

Gilbert & Azel: The Relationship Unbeknownst to Anyone

Somewhere on a certain day—

Gilbert: "---I've always wondered if the conqueror beast and the sacred beast were one in the same."

Gilbert: "Both being evils of the world that control people and manipulate them as they please."

Azel: "I agree with the evil part. You and I would be better off not existing."

Azel: "We are both nuisances to the world, after all."

Gilbert: "Should we die together then?"

Azel: "You mean kill each other."

Gilbert: "That’s right."

Azel: "Disgusting."

Gilbert: "Agreed."

Azel: "So?"

Gilbert: "Hehe, no need to rush. I've went through the trouble of preparing food and drinks, so why not enjoy it first?"

Azel: "I'm having alcohol, while you're having water?"

Gilbert: "Oh, so you noticed."

Azel: "I am a god, after all."

Gilbert: "More like a con-artist, right?"

Azel: "That's another way to put it."

Gilbert: "Haha, you're not denying it."

Azel: "The title isn't that important."

Gilbert: "Really? I thought you’d be particular about it."

Azel: "Not at all. At least with you, being god or con-artist doesn't matter."

Azel: "I'm just a 'nuisance’ in the end, aren't I?"

Gilbert: "So you realized that."

Azel: "Just how many times do you think I've confiscated the weapons you smuggled into my country?"

Azel: "Can't you stop that? It's increasing my overtime and it's annoying."

Gilbert: "It only takes time because you carefully disassemble the firearms and send them back each time."

Gilbert: "Is that your hobby or something?"

Azel: "Do you want to be called a carefree rich boy?"

Gilbert: "Oh, so it was actually a declaration of war."

Azel: "If you understand that much, then don't bother asking. Tanzanite is the land of the gods,”

Azel: "So you should’ve realized by now that your spies and schemes are powerless in my sacred domain."

Gilbert: "Hmm, that's troublesome."

Gilbert: "It seems I miscalculated how difficult 'cleaning up' Tanzanite would be."

Gilbert: "Or perhaps I should say I underestimated you."

Gilbert: "Tanzanite has the lowest return rate for spies among the major countries."

Gilbert: "Currently you’re the only one from your country that's noticed my plans—No, more like, you're the only one at all."

Gilbert: "I thought that I could gather some information from you by sharing a drink, but..."

Gilbert: "You're quite hard to read. Is this what a god is like?"

Azel: "Donations are always welcome."

Gilbert: "Unfortunately for you, I only believe in myself."

Azel: "I figured as much. Spending time on you could be considered a waste."

Azel: "...Though a free meal does have its value."

Gilbert: "Haha, if you get along with me, there might be even better things in store for you."

Azel: "Not happening."

Gilbert: "Oh, that was an immediate answer. Despite us being somewhat similar."

Azel: "That's just slander."

Azel: "I don't distrust human potential as much as you do."

Azel: "Humanity doesn't need gods or beasts."

Gilbert: "...Is that so?"

Azel: "Want to bet?"

Gilbert: "Sure, sounds interesting."

Gilbert: "Your schemes are like mirages, vague and hard to grasp, but..."

Gilbert: "I'll bet on the foolishness of humans."

Azel: "Then I'll bet the opposite."

Azel: "I'll bet on the potential of humans."

Azel: "They have the ability to cleanse themselves. They can recognize and atone for their mistakes."

Azel: "Make sure to prepare your money, Disaster boy."

Gilbert: "You too."

Some little notes I had:

*: There's a possibility of Azel being older than Gilbert, seeing as he would attach things like (ーくん)-kun or (ーちゃん)-chan to the nicknames he gave Gilbert…That or Azel's was just trying to antagonize him.

**: Alternative interpretation of the nickname carefree rich boy could be 'airheaded/thoughtless young master'

***: Alternative interpretation of the nickname (厄災くん or yakusai-kun)Disaster boy could be 'Mr. Calamity'

I wasn't sure which of these interpretations would fit Azel's dialogue more, so I wanted to leave these notes so that everyone can get a general sense of the word/nickname.

Master List

▼・ᴥ・▼

[ficnation]

Chapter 10: The Big Bad Wolf

Series: “Eat Your Heart Out” Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female! Reader x Will Graham Word count: 5,0k+ Warnings: canon-typical warnings, canon divergence, gore A/n: I hope you enjoy it just as much as I did. This is also a bday present for my friend. Happy birthday!!! Don't freak out <3 Main Masterlist || Hannibal Masterlist

PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

“Every social worker enjoys certain aspects of the job more than others,” the man explains with a smile that seems almost too forced; it’s been glued to his face since the moment Alana greeted him. “There are cases that you reach and cases you don’t reach.”

You spin the pen between your fingers with a steady rhythm, your mind wandering and tuning in and out of the conversation between Clark Ingram and Alana Bloom. But something about his demeanor strikes you—the way his bright smile seems permanently plastered on his face. It’s off-putting, unnatural, as if he’s struggling to maintain the facade of a polite and helpful citizen.

“Peter’s had persistent cognitive problems. Confusion, paranoia, rage.”

“Peter’s a sheep,” you mutter to no one in particular. “He can’t hurt an animal, let alone a human being.”

“You really like sheep, don’t you?” Jack jokes, reminding you of your choice of words from not long ago.

You look at him with a raised brow before nudging him in the arm with your elbow. “And you don’t? At least sheep don’t bite.”

Jack chuckles at your retort, but his expression quickly turns serious as he turns his attention back to Clark Ingram. “So, what do you think, Agent Avant? Is Peter Bernardone capable of violence?”

You pause, considering the question carefully. “It’s hard to say,” you reply, your tone measured. “But based on what we know so far, it doesn’t seem likely. His cognitive issues suggest a lack of capacity for such brutal acts. If he was ever violent toward anyone, it’s likely he was pushed to his limits and lashed out.”

Will and Hannibal stand to your left, listening intently to the conversation between you and Jack, as well as the one taking place on the other side of the thick one-way mirror. Their expressions are unreadable, betraying little of what they might be thinking or feeling.

They’re silent until the moment when Alana reaches out to touch Ingram’s hand. The social worker does nothing to hide his discomfort as he quickly shifts his hands away and leans further into his chair.

“That’s smart,” Will explains, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants. “She keeps pushing him on his feelings, not on the facts.”

Hannibal nods in agreement, his gaze focused on the interaction between Alana and Ingram. He casts a fleeting glance in your direction every now and then, his eyes catching your presence in his peripheral vision before returning to the scene before him.

“She’s trying to gauge how comfortable he is with emotion, if he has any,” Will adds, glancing at you too, curious to know your thoughts. “He couldn’t bear being touched by her.”

“It’s a telling reaction,” you remark, your voice calm and measured. “It suggests a deep-seated discomfort with emotional intimacy. Perhaps indicative of a psychopath?”

“Yes, his responses are typical of psychopaths during interviews, but could also indicate resentment,” Hannibal agrees.

“No, I don’t believe it’s resentment or hatred towards women,” you assert, your tone firm. Your eyes narrow thoughtfully.

“No, his eyes are dead,” Will concludes. “He’s a predator.”

“It’s the absence of empathy, of any real connection to the people around him. That’s what makes him dangerous.” You glance over at your husband, seeking confirmation or perhaps an alternative perspective, he acknowledges your words with a nod of his head.

The conversation between Ingram and Alana continues for a while longer, but your mind is too preoccupied to fully focus. You’re aware of their words, but your thoughts are elsewhere. You can’t shake the feeling that Ingram is hiding something. It’s the way he recoils from her touch, the way he conceals himself behind smiles and warm words. There’s an eerie resemblance to your father that sends chills down your spine; something in his demeanor triggers warning bells, a deep and primal instinct for danger.

You attempt to refocus on the conversation, but Ingram’s subtle gestures and body language keep drawing your attention. There’s something sinister about him, a feeling that resonates deep within your bones.

Suddenly, Jack’s voice pierces through the room, pulling you away from your thoughts. “Let him go,” he commands.

The panic in Will’s eyes prompts you to react, and you turn towards your boss with an annoyed expression. “Jack, don’t do that. You know he’s the one.”

“I’ve got nothing to hold him on,” Jack responds calmly.

“We can still get something out of him,” you insist, your eyes pleading. You couldn’t care less about the killer on the other side of the glass, but it’s evident that Will is invested in this case.

“Peter Bernardone is psychologically disadvantaged. He’s been manipulated,” Will argues, his hands clenching into fists by his sides. “As his social worker, this man is in a position of trust, and he has betrayed that trust.”

The realization hits you like a brick—this is personal. In a twisted, complicated way, this is no longer about catching the man responsible for killing sixteen women in cold blood. It might not even be about Peter anymore. The next sentence coming out of Will’s mouth confirms it.

“I know what it’s like to point at a killer and have no one listen.”

“You pointed in the wrong direction.” It’s all Jack says before leaving the room.

Your gaze instantly finds your husband’s face—his expression a mix of disbelief and powerlessness. You reach for his hand, and he doesn’t resist at all as you squeeze it reassuringly, nails gripping into his skin to keep his mind in the room with you and Hannibal. God, Hannibal. You almost forgot about his presence beside you with how quiet he’s become.

“We won’t let Peter Bernardone suffer for all of this, Will,” you assure him. It’s all you can offer—a useless promise that you might not be able to fulfill.

You find yourself in the BAU’s headquarters not long after, walking through the almost-empty corridors leading toward Crawford’s office. You can’t shake your husband’s heartbroken expression from your mind. It lingers hauntingly in the back of your thoughts, refusing to be forgotten.

The atmosphere is uncomfortably quiet, with only the echo of your footsteps breaking the silence as you make your way through the corridor. Your focus is consumed by the folder in your hands, flipping through its pages absentmindedly for at least half an hour. The world around you becomes a misty haze as you try to concentrate on the contrasting words printed on the white paper.

Suddenly, you’re snapped back to reality as someone grabs you by the arm and forcefully pulls you into the nearest room. The sequence of events unfolds so rapidly that it’s all just a massive blur.

“Hey, what the hell!” You react instinctively, swinging blindly at your assailant. Your hands make contact with their face, nails poised dangerously close to their eyes. It’s not the most efficient form of self-defense, but your reflexes have dulled since you’ve been out of the field.

As your vision clears, you recognize those dark, menacing eyes, though you’ve never seen them so up-close before. Their gaze is hypnotizing, compelling you to loosen your grip on their jaw. Despite the danger, you can’t bring yourself to let go entirely.

“It’s just me,” Hannibal’s voice cuts through the tension, tranquil and unaffected by the threat of your fingers near his eyes. His hands grip your elbows firmly, though not painfully, as he meets your panicked stare head-on.

“Why did you grab me like that?” you question him, a hint of vexation in your tone, though you notice how soft his skin feels under your palms.

“Do you prefer a gentler approach?” Hannibal responds calmly, his demeanor unruffled.

You blink slowly, confusion replacing your initial anger. You glance around the empty conference room behind him. “Why are we here?”

Hannibal’s grip on you loosens slightly as he looks over his shoulder before acknowledging your question. It appears he only just became aware of your location himself. “Coincidence.”

Hannibal’s eyes find yours again, and you both stare at each other in silence, unmoving. The tension between you is palpable, each moment stretched taut like a drawn bowstring. You’re not even sure if either of you is breathing, but you can still detect the faint fragrance of his cologne—notes of leather, cedarwood, and a hint of something darker and more mysterious, perhaps oud. The stillness of the air crackles with anticipation, and your shared curiosity poses the question: “who moves first?”

“Would it be rude of me to ask you to release me?” he finally breaks the tension, his tone almost reluctant, as if he secretly wished you would hold onto him a little longer.

You release him, albeit with some apprehension. “You wanted to see how I handle sudden threats, huh?” Your words are more of a statement than a question, delivered with a certainty that seeks confirmation.

“Yes,” he replies simply, catching you off guard with his honesty. It’s almost unnerving how straightforward his answer is.

You watch as a tiny smile quirks one corner of his mouth, the faintest twitch of his lips. It’s as if he was born to be intimidating yet effortlessly charming at the same time. Everything he does seems so well thought-through to the point of being eerie.

“And what conclusion did you reach?” you ask, striving to keep your voice steady. There’s an undercurrent of tension flowing between the two of you, and you can feel his eyes scrutinizing you, taking in every detail.

“More of a confirmation, really,” he replies, his gaze traveling from your face to your hands and back.

You know he noticed your hesitation before you let go of him. You know he’s still analyzing you, taking in every detail, every little movement you make. You can feel his eyes weighing you, measuring every ounce of your reaction, your breath, and your pulse.

“You reacted almost instinctively,” he concludes, not asking a question or suggesting that he expected anything less from you. “It’s a sign of strength.”

You can’t tell if he’s being serious or just saying that to be polite, and you feel compelled to challenge him on that statement, so you do: “And what would’ve been a sign of weakness then?”

“Not fighting back,” he replies simply, his eyes never leaving yours. “Not putting up a fight.”

Your mind struggles to process his answer. “So, what you’re saying is that someone showing weakness by letting themselves be attacked and possibly killed is worse than someone who reacts and fights back?” you reply, not hiding your disbelief at his words.

His response is almost immediate. “Precisely.”

You almost laugh at the straightforwardness of his reply. His words are as chilling as his demeanor. You want to challenge him, to call him out for his bluntness. But you can’t summon the energy, and your gaze falls away.

“What if someone doesn’t have it in them to fight back?” you ask, curious to see how he’ll respond. “Maybe they’re not capable of it.”

He considers the question for a moment, seeming to weigh a myriad of variables in his mind before giving you an answer. “The instinct for self-preservation is primal, ingrained in every living being. It doesn’t matter if they don’t have the physical ability to fight back; the urge to live overrides everything. Even a child will fight when pushed against the wall. Only the weak would let themselves be slaughtered without at least attempting to survive.”

You feel almost appalled by his words, their harshness sinking in. There’s a hint of sadness in your voice as you ask, “So you believe someone who doesn’t fight back is weak?”

“I don’t believe it, I know it,” he replies with a coldness you’ve never seen in his eyes before, a spark of something dark igniting in his pupils.

He’s serious, there’s no underlying joke or hidden meaning behind his words. You feel a chill run through you, the tiny hairs on your arms standing on end.

Hannibal raises his hand toward your face, dragging his knuckles over the skin of your jaw. He seems almost impressed that you don’t flinch at his touch.

“You’re as strong as they come, my dear,” he murmurs, his voice so low it almost blends with the hum of the wind outside the windows. He leans in, his soft lips pressing against your forehead, and then he leaves the room without another word.

You’re left there alone and stunned, your eyes staring ahead but not really seeing. Your body trembles, but instead of pure fear, there’s a hint of excitement running through your veins. Adrenaline rushes through you, and the feeling of his presence lingers in the air, both comforting and unsettling.

You wait in the conference room for a few minutes, trying to collect yourself, half-hoping that Hannibal will return. You feel like you’ve just been through a whirlwind of emotions, thoughts, and sensations.

But all you’re left with is the memory of his scent lingering in the room and the soft touch of his lips on your skin.

“You look like a man who has suffered an irrevocable loss,” Hannibal’s voice breaks through the quiet melody of the aria playing in the car. The psychiatrist’s choice in music doesn’t surprise Will in the slightest; he’s gotten used to his refined tastes.

“I’m trying to prevent one,” Will counters, gazing over his shoulder at your sleeping form curled up in the backseat.

“You look so peaceful—far more relaxed than he imagined you would be. Hell, just ten minutes ago the thought of you sleeping in the presence of Hannibal Lecter didn’t even cross his mind. It was different from the last time; this time you didn’t have anything to drink or soothe you—nothing. You just let your guard down so easily as if you didn’t see a threat in Hannibal anymore. Will didn’t like that at all.

“Do you think if you save Peter Bernardone, you can save yourself?” Hannibal’s voice breaks the silence, his words carrying weight in the confined space of the car.

“Save myself from what, Dr. Lecter?” Will asks, his eyes staring ahead yet again, but there’s a hint of annoyance in his voice—barely detectable.

“From who you perceive me to be,” the psychiatrist responds, his eyes briefly leaving the road to glance at you through the rearview mirror. Will swears he sees a subtle quirk of the man’s mouth at the sight of you.

“I’m afraid I need to be saved from who you perceive me to be.”

“Many troublesome behaviors strike when you are uncertain of yourself,” Hannibal observes, his focus returning to Will. Perhaps he senses he’s been caught. “Peter Bernardone lies in the same darkness that holds you.”

“No, I’m alone in that darkness,” Will replies without hesitation.

“You’re not alone, Will. You have me and her, standing right beside you through all of this.”

Will’s eyes find your figure again, and he bites the inside of his cheek, lost in thought. “I’m not sure if I want her to be. I don’t want to scare her off.”

“You won’t, Will. She’s not going anywhere, trust me.” Hannibal reaches for the other man and squeezes his arm gently—it’s strangely comforting, though it shouldn’t be.

When you reach Peter’s place, it’s eerily empty. All of the cages have been left open—no animal in sight. You can’t imagine the agony Clark Ingram must have put him through. The sight breaks your heart into a million pieces because you know Peter Bernardone has been pushed to his limit.

The three of you rush toward the stables, ready for the worst. Will is panicking inside and out, his hands trembling and breath coming out in shaky puffs of air, while you and Hannibal remain fairly composed. The contrast in your behaviors is visible from miles away.

As you find Peter, he’s kneeling on the ground beside the body of a dark-coated horse, his work nearly finished. The needle slides through the animal’s skin effortlessly, like gliding through soft butter.

Will is the first to break the silence as he steps toward the kneeling man slowly, with apprehension evident in his movements. “Peter…” he whispers hoarsely, his eyes glued to the sight of the blood-soaked animal before him.

The scene takes a while for your mind to process. The image of that defenseless horse lying lifeless on the stable floor, the smell of blood lingering in the air along with the subtle scent of death. All of you already know what has happened here—it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.

Hannibal catches your gloved hand in his and pulls you closer to himself. You feel his steady presence beside you, a calming force amid the turmoil. His touch is unexpected, yet it speaks volumes.

“Is your social worker in that horse?”

“Yes. I used to have a horrible fear of…” Peter speaks up, his voice trembling slightly but not out of fear. “Of hurting anything.”

You glance at Hannibal to gauge his reaction to the situation, but instead, you find him already looking at you—his eyes filled with a strange admiration. You were right after all; Peter couldn’t hurt a fly unless he was pushed to his limits.

Weirdly enough, this twisted reverence makes you feel just a little bit sick to your stomach. You shuffle forward, seeking proximity to Will and distancing yourself from Hannibal, forcing him to release his grip on your hand.

“But… He helped me get over that. Feels so abnormal.” Peter lets out a pitiful chuckle, tears rolling down his bony cheeks.

“An abnormal reaction to an abnormal situation is normal behavior,” Hannibal concludes, his eyes now cold and distant. You’re unsure whether it’s due to the situation before you or your withdrawal from his affectionate touch.

“I think he deserves to die,” the kneeling man says, his voice filled with helplessness as he looks between the three of you.

“He does,” you mumble, more to yourself than anyone else. You’re relieved when there’s no immediate reaction to your words, but the way Hannibal’s eyes bore into your back tells you he heard.

“But you didn’t deserve to kill him, Peter,” Will says, shaking his head. He crouches beside the man, offering a reassuring hand that rests gently on his back as Peter stares at the dead horse. “I want you to come with me.”

You and Will help the man stand up as his legs shake, threatening to give up beneath him. Only now do you see how much damage this situation has done to the poor guy. He didn’t deserve any of this, but the world has always been a cruel place—evil humans’ second nature.

When Will and Peter head toward the barn door, you and Hannibal linger behind. Will’s uncertain, but not worried glance your way is a testament that something has shifted between the three of you. You just have to figure out what.

“Cruelly poetic,” you say, standing a safe distance away from the man and the corpse.

“He’ll be just fine,” Hannibal murmurs in response to your statement as he watches Peter and Will slowly make their way out of the stable. His gaze is calculatingly cold, the smallest twitch of a muscle in his cheek betraying the emotions underneath—the genuine emotions he rarely lets others see.

“It was necessary,” he adds softly. “He needed to rid himself of that darkness within.”

“Necessary?” you question, your eyes still glued to the two men walking away and not the psychiatrist standing before you.

Hannibal’s eyes move from Peter and Will to you, the corner of his mouth twitching into a slight smirk. You feel like he’s expecting you to say something more, but you can’t think of anything to reply.

“Necessary,” he repeats, and now his eyes find yours with that same calculating stare.

“The way you view life and the world itself... It’s peculiar,” you notice, sticking your hands into the pockets of your coat.

Hannibal’s gaze never leaves yours, and he doesn’t reply at first. There’s a slight smirk playing on the corners of his mouth again, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he’s judging you or if he agrees.

“I find my way of viewing life perfectly reasonable,” he finally says quietly, the words almost whispered. You notice a small twitch of the muscles beneath his eyes, and you wonder if you said the right thing or not.

“You do?” you ask, still searching for his gaze, but you can tell that he’s no longer looking at you. He’s staring at something in the distance instead then heading toward one of the stalls that holds white sheep.

“In life, we need some form of guidance to help us navigate the unknown,” he adds quietly as he pets the woolly animals. They’re not afraid of him. “I’ve found mine. What about you?”

Before you have a chance to respond, you notice Clark Ingram’s bloody fingers, ripping the stitches on the dead horse’s stomach. He tears through them from within, letting the guts spill out of the corpse as he crawls out of it.

Hannibal strolls toward him so casually, his hands dipped into the pockets of his perfectly pressed pants as he looks at the man’s struggle. You join him by his side as an involuntary smirk crawls up your face at the sight of the social worker coughing out blood and stumbling over his own legs. It’s amusing.

The psychiatrist admires your expression, slightly astonished by your reaction. He certainly didn’t expect you to show your true colors so fast. Not a care in the world of how your satisfaction might come across to others.

When Ingram reaches for the bloody hammer, you feel Hannibal’s hands tugging you closer yet again. You let him, leaning on him like an old friend—hip to hip. The warmth of his body is comforting, stirring something insatiable deep inside you.

“Mr. Ingram. Might want to crawl back in there if you know what’s good for you,” Hannibal says casually as he steps aside, taking you with him.

You didn’t even realize that Will had entered the stables. He holds a gun steadily in his hands, pointing it straight at Ingram’s head. Your smirk disappears just as quickly as it appeared, slight shock taking its place on your face.

“Will…” you mumble breathlessly.

You try to reach for him, but Hannibal doesn’t let you step away from him as he tugs you even closer into his side. He presses his lips to your temple and whispers, “He won’t do anything. Don’t worry.”

You’re not sure you believe him. You’ve seen how personal this was to Will, how panic and pure anger took turns in taking over his body since the moment he met Peter. The emotions were controlling him in a way nothing and no one else could.

Ingram drops the sledgehammer to the ground, falling to his knees with arms open and raised like wings—like a blood angel. “Officer… I’m the victim here,” he breathes heavily, but the smile that flashes over his features tells a different story.

“I’m not an officer. I’m Peter’s friend,” Will counters, ignorant to your begging eyes.

Don’t do it, Will. Please, don’t do it.

“Peter’s confused.”

Will feigns hesitation as he lowers the gun just slightly. But the way he grips the weapon tells you easily that he’s far from done with Ingram—his hold doesn’t loosen even for a mere second.

“I’m not.” He raises it back up with an air of palpable confidence. He knows what he wants. He wants to see Clark Ingram begging for life, drowning in the pool of his own blood, choking on it.

You squeeze Hannibal’s fingers so tightly, you’re surprised when he doesn’t even flinch. He just observes Will expressionless.

“Please, Hannibal,” you beg him under your breath, barely audible. You know he hears you, even if he pretends otherwise.

“Pick up the hammer,” Will throws the command, gesturing toward the bloody object that was just thrown to the ground moments ago.

Hannibal glances at your horrified expression, then at Will’s lips pressed tightly in anger. “Will,” he finally interjects with so much stoicism in his voice. His stare alone is insistent enough to make just about anyone listen to him.

But not Will. Will is deaf to Hannibal’s words—especially right now. He doesn’t want to hear him, he doesn’t want to be heard by him. He has a chance to make it right for Peter’s sake, maybe even for his own sake.

“Pick it up,” Will keeps insisting, now, even more agitated. He pops the safety off and puts the pistol almost directly in front of Ingram’s face.

“It won’t feel the same, Will,” Hannibal tries again, stepping toward Will. “It won’t feel like killing me.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“You did the best anyone could do for Peter, but don’t do this for him. If you’re going to do this, Will, you have to do it for yourself.”

You blink slowly in shock before you push Hannibal away from your husband. You take his place and move so close to Will, you can almost feel his shaky breath on your skin.

“Will, please,” you beg softly, “don’t ruin your life. This isn’t going to fix anything.”

“How do you know, huh?” he spats out, his voice mean—meaner than he ever was toward you.

The adrenaline and the rush of the situation are threatening to derail any semblance of calm you’ve managed to keep over the past hour. You grit your teeth and murmur so quietly, in hopes only he can hear you, “Trust me, I know.”

That seems to awaken him temporarily as he looks at you for a second, confusion written all over his face. His eyes are wide open, searching your face for answers—he finds nothing.

Hannibal’s gaze never leaves you two, watching you carefully. Will is so focused on this mystery, he doesn’t even notice when you take the gun out of his hands and point it at Ingram yourself.

“What?” Will asks, his eyes snapping back to you as you push the gun towards Ingram.

“P-please… Please don’t,” the social worker begs as you step closer and press the gun harshly to his left temple.

“Oh, would you like me to be gentler?” you ask, tilting your head. There’s something deeply attractive about the way you hold the gun with unwavering determination, a fierce protectiveness radiating from you. There’s not an ounce of doubt in your expression; you really do look like a cop now.

Will, amidst the chaos of his thoughts, finds himself strangely drawn to you in this moment. His gaze is fixed on your face, and he can’t help but admire the way you look with that gun in your hand. It’s such a contrast to the innocent woman he married—it’s a side of you he never knew existed. There’s a primal allure to your fierce stance, a primal instinct that resonates with him on a level he can’t quite comprehend.

Hannibal notices the expression on Will’s face, and a smirk plays across his lips. He understands the magnetic pull that emanates from you—the allure. He shares the sentiment with Will, recognizing the primal attraction you exude as you hold the gun with a steady hand.

Your complexity intrigues and captivates them, drawing them in despite the inherent danger. They find it both thrilling and unsettling. The darkness hiding in them stirs with your presence, awakening that primitive instinct that’s been lurking in the depths of their souls. You have them completely entranced, and they can’t tear their eyes away.

Will once thought you were quite simple. He learned to read you like a book, then you disappeared and came back after almost ten years with no contact and he still felt like he knew you well enough. But lately? You’ve been unpredictable, complicated and twisted in your own particular way.

All of them hold their breath, the tension thick. The only sound heard is Will’s breathing—heavy and slow.

Ingram’s eyes are glued to yours. Something in the look he gives you makes all the anger and resentment wash away from your mind, and it takes you a moment to remember why you’re standing there with the gun.

You lean over Ingram and whisper something in his ear that no one else other than him can hear. Judging by the puddle of his own piss that pools on the floor, no one else would want to hear it. His eyes bulge with fear and shock, and he can’t make a peep in response.

Then, you pop the safety back on and hit the social worker in the temple with the butt of the gun. He tumbles over to the floor with a thud.

“Temporal region,” you conclude, straightening up. “You hit it with enough force and you can either kill someone or make them pass out.”

“Good to know,” Will mutters, looking at you again with newfound appreciation and respect.

Hannibal is also staring at you, with a newfound sense of admiration. He’s suddenly aware of your own power over others. As a psychiatrist, he’s learned what kind of tactics are used to break people down, and he knows that you used them against Ingram with devastating precision.

“What did you say to him?” he asks quietly, the rage still lurking just beneath the surface.

Hannibal watches as the two of you stare at each other intensely. He can’t help but feel a strange excitement rising inside of him as he watches the two of you square off against each other.

Will’s intensity is almost palpable—there’s a primal instinct within him that craves power, and he’s fascinated by the way you wield yours.

“Nothing that you need to know,” you reply simply, not about to divulge the details of your threat.

When Hannibal sees the intensity in both of your gazes, he can’t help but feel a strange stirring within him. He’s never seen the two of you so intense about anything before.

Will’s eyes narrow as he stares at you. He wants to know what you said, he wants to know the darkest depths of your mind. But he respects that it’s something you don’t want to share and lets it go.Hannibal can’t take his eyes off the two of you. It’s almost like he’s staring at a trainwreck he can’t look away from. He might just be right.

Taglist (I tag ppl that leave a comment or ask me for it): @strrvnge @raininhell @crowsoundsonly @gabriella-aesthetic @gayschlatt69 @russian-soft-bitch @lokittyy @hellouseemc00l @justaproudslytherpuff @it-s-tickety-booh @r4diocabeca @sanriogarbage @zoleea-exultant @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @emily-roberts @unsolvedghoulboyz @00hellohello00 @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @jadenblueberry @slashercupcake @octobermania @magdalenmillicent-blog @unsolvedghoulboyz @gabbyonjupiter @lanklr @oliviathecat06 @fatkissers

[midnightcatharsis]

I’M NOT ANGRY AT JAYCE BECAUSE HE THOUGHT HE HAD TO DESTROY THE HEXCORE AND IN CONSEQUENCE KILL VIKTOR OR BECAUSE HE DECIDED TO DO IT. (I have no doubt that he saw something terrible that will be revealed later). I AM ANGRY AT JAYCE FOR HOW HE CHOSE TO DO IT and because it looked like it was way too easy for him.

Most arguments defending Jayce like: "he did everything right because he saw something terrible and had to stop it", "Viktor was manipulated or taken over by the hexcore and had to be stopped", "the cult was morally questionable/evil" - all operate on a fallacy that there were only 2 solutions: either to do nothing completely and let the hexcore do whatever it wants or kill Viktor in the EXACTLY SAME way and manner that Jayce did it. And I have several problems with that take.

A. First of all Jayce didn’t save anyone because it was probably a self-fulling prophecy and by killing Viktor without thinking Jayce didn't stop the tragedy but rather made it happen.

Yes, after merging with the hexcore Viktor seems a little more distant and hollower and is certainly manipulated/used by it, but Act 2 proves he was still himself. He still was desperately clinging to his humanity, he still disagreed with Singed, he still wanted only to help his people, he still wanted them to have their humanity (as proved by Vander's situation) and he still had emotions. He was happy and excited to see Jayce again and wanted to share this dream with Jayce, wanted Jayce to be proud and happy with him... And then he just feels betrayal, confusion, disappointment, and fear. Whether he was manipulated or whether the cult would have bad consequences long term is beside the point. What is important is that he was to some extent in control, had good intentions, wasn't aggressive, and was capable of talking and reasoning. Jayce couldn’t see that. By killing Viktor to avoid the tragedy Jayce took his humanity from him, and this will cause exactly what he wanted to avoid. Dying Viktor rejects humanity -he thinks that everybody he was trying to save and he himself were killed only because of his positive emotions towards Jayce and his trust in him, and he probably doesn’t want to feel that hurt, fear, and betrayal anymore…

It was still possible to talk with Viktor, only Jayce’s choice to murder him will create a villain Jayce wanted to stop.  

B. Even assuming that Jayce absolutely had to kill Viktor to stop the hexcore that is the least problematic and hurtful part. I couldn't hate Jayce or be angry at him for killing Viktor if he was convinced, he had to do it to save the future regardless of whether it turns out to be a good choice or a self-fulling prophecy. I'm not angry at him for that. I’m super angry at him for how easy it was for him to kill his partner/roommate/best friend, how he didn't struggle with it at all (for comparison we see Vi clearly struggling with the idea of killing her sister despite knowing that she is a terrorist), how emotionless he was, and how he made Viktor's last moments hell and emotional torture by giving him the most brutal, terrifying and heartless execution that was possible.

He didn't even try to find an alternative solution to save Vik. I am not saying he should have found it, but he didn't try. He returned and immediately decided to murder him. Viktor invited him and Jayce didn't even bother to talk to him, didn't try to reason with him or to convince him, didn't want even to spare 5 minutes to explain the situation to Vik, perhaps Viktor could give him some advice or insight or if not, at least Jayce could tell him why he had to kill him so that Vik doesn't feel so betrayed in his last moments. Jayce could spend 2 minutes to reassure him that Jayce doesn't want to do it. Finally, Jayce could just say "I'm sorry Vik" or "Forgive me, for what I have to do" or ANYTHING. If he did that, I would find it tragic but I couldn't possibly dislike him. My problem is that he didn't. He didn't want to spare 2 fucking seconds to say "I'm sorry" and to make it slightly less horrifying for Vik or to reassure him that Jayce truly cared. Imagine the hurt, confusion, and betrayal that Viktor had to feel upon realizing that the only person he considered a friend wants to murder him without regret and without telling why. Probably if Jayce spared those fucking 10 seconds to express to V that he doesn't want to do it, only thinks he has to, Viktor would be able to understand, wouldn't want to completely get rid of his emotion and humanity later and the villain Jayce was trying to destroy wouldn’t be created at all. Let’s be honest those 10 seconds wouldn’t have destroyed the earth or caused any horrifying cataclysm.

Viktor in episode 6 has no idea why he has to die and you know what? He doesn’t fucking deserve it. Regardless of whether he will become a villain later or not, regardless of whether he was controlled or manipulated by the hexcore he still had good intentions and didn’t deserve to die like that, to be treated like that, especially, not by Jayce who merged him with the hexcore in the first place.

I think that if I were in Viktor’s position I would like at least to know why I have to die or whether my best friend ever cared to, you know, die more peacefully. Wouldn’t you dear reader?

Even later after murdering Viktor Jayce still doesn't look as if he gives a damn about him. He doesn't say anything, or do anything that indicates that he feels sorry about that. He doesn't cradle his body, instead, he leaves the corpse in a place where he knows nobody will even give it a proper burial... He shows fewer emotions and less care than supposedly taken over by the hexcore Viktor.

I don't think Jayce deserves hate for deciding to destroy hexcore/killing Viktor even if I think he didn't save anyone but made everything worse. However, Jayce deserves every possible critique for choosing the cruelest way to do it, for how easy it was for him, and because he doesn't show any care or emotions in episode 6.

The only thing that could still make me understand this and forgive him is if it turns out that he was being manipulated or taken over by the void/hexcore or some other powerful being.

[gorchards]

Love Lines - Yuta Okkotsu x Reader

word count: 4,118

a/n: Hi there! This is the first fic I've ever published so go easy on me lmao. Y/N is (very loosely) inspired by Rika because I love their dynamic and I'm a sucker for the childhood friends trope. I don't think the reader is specifically gendered but bc of this they may be fem-coded. Fic under the cut! Hope you all enjoy!

You and Yuta Okkotsu had a long, long, history. When you were in elementary school, you had proposed to him. Of course, you didn’t fully know what you were doing when you did- you were so young at the time. Then again, neither did he, when he wholeheartedly accepted. And for a long time, you two had been inseparable. During high school, the two of you had realized that perhaps there was something to that proposal you had originally made, and had begun dating. 

In some ways, it was better than what you could have ever dreamed. He was sweet, comforting, and always there for you. Just as he had always been, of course! But somehow even more than before. He was braver with you, and would come along on whatever random excursion you thought up. And he had changed you, too. His greater involvement in your life added a sparkle to it that you hadn’t experienced before. He made you feel stronger. He grounded you when you felt like you were going to fly off the  handle, and soothed you when you were spiraling. 

But… You were also more involved in his problems than ever before. The reverse was true of course. But he always had to take time to mull them over, and all that time he spent made you so anxious for him. You were so involved in his problems now, that it was starting to take a toll on your own mental health. You expressed this to him, and he tried his best to ease your fears- assuring you that things would all work out.

 That was a turbulent period of life for the both of you. So many things were changing in your individual lives. And during that change in your relationship with him, you began to realize there were a great deal of challenges that he had never let you in on before. It became overwhelming for you to see, and have him refuse your repeated attempts to help. He was so worried that you would eventually feel like he was a burden to you, but in doing so, he had unintentionally pushed you away. You couldn’t take it- and it made you feel that if he could have been hiding the fact that he was being bullied from you, what else was he hiding? Did you even know the real Yuta Okkotsu? Thoughts such as that plagued your mind toward the end... and it would eventually become too much for you.

Though it wasn’t that simple, that was ultimately the reason you had broken it off. Mounting pressures in your own life made it feel impossible to keep up with how much healing you realized he needed. Yuta had attempted to mend things- checking in with you often, trying to at least remain friends. He still cared about you, of course. He had assured you that he was still just a call away if you needed him. But even that became suffocating to you with time. In the end, you sent him a long, painful message about how you just couldn’t remain friends with him. And then, you blocked him. 

Since then, a mere four years after your breakup with Yuta, you had completely thrown yourself into your college work. Of course, along with spending any excess time you had with your family and your other friends. But it seemed to do little about the fact that he never really left your mind. At least once a day, a thought like this crossed your mind: “Oh, Yuta would love this!” Or, alternatively, “I wonder what he’s doing right now…?” You would still find yourself looking at the photos you had taken him, or of the two of you together. For a moment in time, you could pretend that nothing had changed between you and Yuta.

But then, cold hard reality would set in and crush your heart. You had not spoken in many years…and with how you left things, you might never again. Were you not used to the weight by now, perhaps you would have reached out. But apologizing now? After the state you left him in? You were sure that would make you cruel. 

Occasionally you would sit and imagine how he may have moved on from you. With how little he posted on social media, you weren’t sure exactly what he was up to, no matter how many times you refreshed his instagram. But even after all this time you still felt like you knew him inside and out. And so, you were completely certain that someone else must have been taken by his sincere smile, unkempt hair, and gentle eyes that you once admired daily. If looks weren’t enough, you couldn’t think of one person who wasn’t looking for a devoted and sweet boy like him. 

Maybe it was even that upperclassman who was in his class that you were often jealous of. They had grown very close over his senior year because being with you had made him more sociable. You could imagine Maki being the kind of girl who wouldn’t hesitate once she found out he was single. Unlike you, who had stalled for as long as possible in an effort to keep things from changing between you and him. And in the long run, you couldn’t seem to do that, either.

You yourself had tried to move on already. You had waited what you deemed a respectable amount of time before trying your luck with romance again. But in every person that you had dated, you never found Yuta. You would compare them all to him. You quickly found yourself growing dissatisfied and restless before ultimately breaking up with the string of suitors that followed him. So you had sworn it off for the time being, shifting almost all of your focus to your educational goals. You wanted to start working as soon as possible, and trying to find someone while agonizing over the Yuta-shaped hole in your heart was only going to slow you down.

One fateful day though, you strode into a local coffee shop near your campus. Nothing different than any other study sessions before. All signs pointed to it being a normal day, if a bit more productive than usual. That alone was enough to put a little spring in your step. You stood in line looking over the menu, puzzling over what you would get. A vanilla chai, perhaps? Or would a matcha latte be what you were craving… You hoped you would be able to decide before you reached the cash register.

The time to order came all too fast. “Good afternoon, what can I get for you?” The barista asked, slightly more terse than she usually was. You imagined the cause for this was due to the line of customers behind you that had slowly mounted since you had gotten in it. 

You were able to make a split-second compromise with yourself, out of courtesy for your noticeably antsy barista. “Good afternoon! Could I.. uh… Could I get a matcha latte, with a little vanilla?” You paused for a moment, feeling your stomach growl just a tad. “Oh! And one of your muffins, please!” Hopefully, this would satisfy you for a solid cramming session.

You gave the barista your name, sitting down near the counter patiently as you waited for your little snack to be called out. You began to scroll through your music, hoping to find a playlist that would get you in a focused mood. You were about to select one of your many playlists, when you heard your name being called. 

“Latte for Y/N?” You could just hear the barista’s voice over the mounting chatter. So, you jumped up from your seat and scurried over to pick up your little study session snack. You thanked the barista, and moved to return to your table when you heard your name again.

“Y/N?”

You knew that voice. And you knew it wasn’t the barista calling you back for your wallet. The whole world came to a standstill for you, as you tried to decide whether or not you should turn around. It’s like all of the many programs in your brain had suddenly crashed at the sound of Yuta Okkotsu’s voice.

“How?” was your first thought. How was it possible that you had ended up at the same restaurant, on the same day, at the same time? You hadn’t physically seen him in years. You hadn’t talked, or called, or texted since your last conversation. Just when you were getting good at forcing yourself to suppress your thoughts of him- why would the universe put him here, and why would it do so now?

Say you did turn around. What would that even do? Surely it would just bring up painful memories for the both of you. And you really didn’t want to make him cry again. You feared that if you turned around he would look exactly the same as the day you broke up with him. 

Maybe it wasn’t him. After all, your mind could be playing tricks on you. If you didn’t turn around to face this hypothetical Yuta, you would never have to truly face your feelings about him, either. And even if he was there, you could just pretend that you didn’t hear! Then he would just move on, and you still wouldn’t have to think too hard about how leaving him had affected both of your hearts.

You felt a hesitant hand tap your shoulder, resuming the activities going on around you. Ah. You had waited way too long thinking it over. And you felt it would be so mean of you to speed walk away now, after he had worked up all that courage to approach you. So, slowly, you turned yourself to face him.

There stood Yuta Okkotsu, a half-full cup of iced coffee in his off-hand. But he looked noticeably different than you last saw him. His hair was styled in an uncharacteristically stiff fashion; It was gelled down and parted slightly to his right. Starkly different from the wilder hair you remembered him having. He was a bit taller, too. His clothing leaned more toward “smart” casual, rather than the comfortable styles you recalled him wearing.  And his face looked…  mostly the same, aside from the bags beneath his eyes, which seemed smaller than you remembered.

“It’s… It’s you.” He spoke, a bit short of breath. Like he couldn’t believe that you were standing in front of him. He looked a bit tense, as he had feared the worst. 

If it wasn’t you, he would have embarrassed the hell out of himself. He would have gotten over it, but it would only prove how hopeless he was at getting over you. Imagining you in public like that might have made him hole himself up in his dorm until his friends inevitably dragged him out and convinced him he wasn’t clinically insane. 

Conversely, if it had been you, he feared that you would have a viscerally negative reaction to his presence- that over the years you had stopped caring about him, and even grown to hate him. He knew that was ridiculous- you were passionate and reactive, but you were always polite. Still, the fear gnawed at him, perhaps more at the notion that you had grown to loathe him rather than that you would rebuke him.

But there you stood. Eyes widened in shock, and surprisingly still. But he didn’t see any hate in your expression. Still, he braced his heart for disappointment when you opened your mouth.

“... Yu ... ta?” It came out as more of a question than you had intended. You felt like you were in a trance, but did your best to shake yourself out of it. “What… What are you doing here?’

He accidentally let out a chuckle in response, and then motioned his cup to his little set-up in the corner of the coffee shop. “Studying… for my, uh, finals. And getting coffee. What are you doing here?” 

You motioned over to your laptop bag that you had yet to open. “Same as you, actually! What a coincidence!” You said with a little laugh, and just a hint of awkwardness in your tone.

The both of you remained silent for a moment before he decided to break it. “... Would you like to sit with me? It’s getting crowded in here.”

Oh.

His breaking the silence had surprised you even more than you already were. He didn’t typically do that, even when you were together. He was comfortable with it with you- and besides, he much preferred to look into your eyes. Again you were stunned into silence. What would be the right thing to do here? 

You knew what you wanted to do. You wanted to sit down and have lunch with him. You wanted to talk endlessly about what you had missed in the last four years. You wanted to give him your new socials, your new number, your new address. You had dreamed for years that you would run into him again like this.

But on the other hand, you also wanted to do what was right.  What made sense. And it didn’t make any sense to let him back in your life after all this time. You weren’t sure you could handle it even if it did. There was just so much history, and so much baggage between the two of you. You didn’t want to mess anything up further- for him, or for yourself. That wouldn’t be right at all.

His voice cut through your thoughts. 

“... I’m sorry I… I can see you’re uncomfortable. I’ll… I’ll go.”

Shit. That’s not what you wanted. That little sad look in his eyes.

“What?” You replied. A reaction of pure panic. Pure desperation. 

He turned back to you, averting his gaze slightly. “... I shouldn’t have asked… I just thought…” He looked right at you. “I thought… It would be nice to have coffee.”

“... It would.” You said, trying to soften your tone. Just coffee, you told yourself. It didn’t necessarily mean anything to have coffee with an old friend.

If he weren’t listening so intently to every word, he might not have heard you over all the noise. Now, it was his turn to be stunned. “It would? You think?” He asked, his eyes meeting yours again.

“... Yeah, it would.”

~

And so you sat down at his table. Suddenly, you felt very aware of yourself. The way you were sitting in your chair, the way your hands gripped your coffee cup, the sweat pooling from every gland you had… The sheer anxiety that built in you every moment that ticked by without a word.

“So uhm… Did you end up applying to TMTC?” He asked.

Tokyo Metropolitan Technical College. Your dream school. He…remembered?

“I did but…Well, I didn’t…I’m going to TMU. But I do have a few friends there.” You said, staring into your latte. “Ah, their sister school! That’s even better!” He replied, smiling a tad awkwardly. “That makes sense. You’ve always been really smart.”

“And where do you go?” You asked. It felt weird to you that you didn’t already know.

“Ah… well… I went to a community college at first… And one of my professors also works at TMC so I…” He trailed off.

“... You’re going there?” You looked up at him, your brow raised. A clear suspicion was evident in your expression.

“...Not… Not because I thought you’d be there.” He said, swallowing nervously.

Your heart twinged a little.

He continued, being unable to make eye contact with you. “Not- Not that I didn’t think you would! And not that I- I just… I would have been a fool to give up a chance like that. And our majors were far enough apart that if… If I did run into you… And you didn’t want to see me… Then you wouldn’t have to. Not that I didn’t want to see you I just-”

You laughed a little, causing him to stop his rambling. He didn’t act any differently than the boy you remembered. And even after all this time, you knew him like the back of your hand. He was still your Yuta.

“...Something funny?” He asked, throat still painfully dry. He took a sip of his drink.

You shook your head. “No… Nothing. I see why you did it. I’m just a tad jealous is all.”

“Do you… Like it at TMU?” Swiftly, he tried to change the subject.

You looked back up at him. “I do.”

The truth was, you felt a little lonely there. You had your friends, and you adored them. You got really lucky, and hadn’t yet had a mean professor. Your dorm was always cozy. The campus was beautiful. It would have been perfect if… He was there. 

Yuta. He was once your best friend, your companion…he was your home. Not a day could go by without you thinking of him. Something about his absence made days feel more monotonous. You felt like when you sat down here with him, you had been snapped out of a trance that you hadn’t been able to get out of for four long years. 

Yuta blinked when you failed to say more, and tried to coax something more out of you. “What do you like about it?”

“I see you’ve gotten nosier than ever, Yuu.” You teased.

Yuta’s face paled. “I’m sorry! That’s not what I-”

“Relax. I’m joking.” You had to laugh again. He was always so reactive to your teasing. Always took everything so seriously. That still hadn’t changed.  “Tokyo is gorgeous. I mean- I’m sure you can tell. You’re here too after all. But especially the campus! I don’t always have time to enjoy it with all the work my professors give me but…I really like going there. When I have time to go out with my friends we always have a ton of things to pick from. Makes it pretty hard to choose just one!”

Yuta smiled softly, leaning on the table as he listened to you earnestly.

You missed that fond expression of his.

“What is it, Yuta?”

“Huh…?” He froze, before sitting up and straightening himself out. “Oh- I just…Well you sound- IT sounds so pretty over there. I haven’t had the chance to go yet. I think I have a friend who goes there…” He said, tapping his chin.

“Who? Maybe I know them!” You said, leaning forward on the table.

“Her name’s Mai. Or- I think we’re friends. She’s Maki’s sister actually, you remember her? She sometimes joins our study group when we go to their house.”

Your eyes widened. “Mai Zenin?”

“Oh, yes! Do you know her?”

Knew wouldn’t be quite the correct word. You weren’t close at all, but you had worked on a few projects together. She was rather tight lipped about her personal life, and wasn’t much for conversation. But she was smart, and always did her part.

Despite the last name, you hadn’t connected the dots.

“Oh, not really. Our majors are close, so we have a few classes together.” You said quietly, looking into your cup.

Yuta did not fail to notice your change in demeanor.

“... Was she… rude to you?” He asked.

You looked back up at him. “Oh, nothing like that! I just… I had no idea.”

To think. You were two connections away from seeing him again almost this entire time. 

You weren’t sure how that made you feel.

“I didn’t either.” He chuckled. “I know she can be a bit…well, I’m sure you know.”

You found yourself smiling again. “Yeah, I know what you mean. But we always get a good grade when we work…. together, separately. She’s just…”

“A little intense?”

“Ohhhh yeah. You could say that again.” You said with a snicker. “Runs in the family I guess.”

Talking like this again… you found yourself so happy. This joy was something that you were only able to capture when you were with him. You felt a little nostalgic for your life before- Your life with him. It almost made you want to turn back the hands of time, or at the very least, let him back in again.

But that would clearly be selfish. Even from what little you had discussed, you could tell. Something was different. He had friends- plural. Likely new ones… maybe even a girlfriend.

He was happy.

Happy without you.

Not that you weren’t happy on your own, per se. But without him, the monotony of life had become so heavy. You felt as though everything was about your classes, your degree, your future job. Every moment you had, you spent working toward some distant future plan.

Yuta had always slowed you down and kept you in the moment. He put a colorful tint on your life when he was in it. 

In high school he was shy and awkward around other people…everyone except you, that was. You couldn’t help but wonder how that might have changed in three years. Maybe he…

“Y/N?” Again, he snapped you from your thoughts.

“Hm?”

“...You’re doing that thing you do.” 

That thing you always did when you thought too much. That far-off look you got when he couldn’t reach you.

He couldn’t bear to let you go there again.

He couldn’t bear to let you go at all.

You shook your head, but you knew exactly what he meant. “Just… just thinking is all, Yuta.”

“... Well, I have an ear if you need to talk it out.” He replied softly. His hand twitched slightly, out of instinct. He wanted to take your hand and squeeze it, but… He realized how awkward that could make you feel.

He still… he still cared? Really, and sincerely? After all this time?

You shook your head. It wouldn’t be right.

“That’s sweet Yuta, but… but I should be going. I really have to study.” You abruptly stood up and started gathering your things.

“What?” He stood up, eyes widened in a panic that he was trying to hide. “But we hardly-”

“My finals are soon, and I’m sure yours are too.”

“Y/N-.”

“Yuta I… I enjoyed this little chat with you but… Well I’m happy you’re doing well and I hope that you do well in your studies but I have to-”

“Y/N.” He grabbed ahold of your hand, and you froze. 

 Yuta took a deep breath. “...Sorry, I just…Y/N, I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do. If you never want to see me again I’d…I’d understand. And…” 

He had to take another deep breath, and you could see tears beginning to brim in his eyes. “But you… you mean so much to me. After all this time you… I still miss you. So much. You’re..”

The love of his life?

“...My best friend. Maybe that’s… weird of me to say. But it’s true. Even though we didn’t have that much time together today I… I’m really happy to hear from you. And I want to see you again.” He looked right into your eyes.

Into your soul.

You could see how desperate he looked right now. You felt tears pricking at your eyes. You knew that if you were still together, he would have immediately taken you in his arms and kissed them away. But when you looked at him you saw how much he was holding back in order to avoid driving you away again.

It was then that you realized just how much you had been holding back yourself. Everything you had been feeling, and trying to hold deep inside with all the willpower you had left was about to burst out. You missed him so much.

“Yuu…ta…”

You swallowed harshly, stepping back. Yuta hung his head as you began to put your things into your bag.

Then, he felt you tap his shoulder. He attempted to subtly wipe the tears from his eyes before he locked eyes with you again.

You took his hand and placed a scrap of paper in it. 

“What’s this…?” He asked.

“...My new number. I…I would like to see you again too.” You whispered.

“You…you couldn’t have told me that first?” He chuckled, drying his face with a little smile.

You felt your lips curl up. “Sorry. I know you hate surprises.” You squeezed his hand, before letting it go.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean it looked…for a moment I thought-”

“I’m one hundred percent sure.” Well, now you were. “I’ll see you soon Yuta.”

“I’ll see you soon Y/N."

✧ Start (You are here!) ✧ Next ✧

✧ Masterlist ✧

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Silly little headcannon:

Demons / sinners can't have salt because it's one of those pure substances that could dispel them.

It's also a punishment for sinners who enjoyed basic flavour in their meals. Other spices can be obtained in some form, more or less, often smuggled across rings from wrath or gluttony where the main farms can be found.

A few people hankering for Spice get The Real Thing - smuggled by the hellborn who went to earth. It was a very expensive desire to cultivate.

And there was always one idiot who thought that the salt thing was just superstition and asked for it. At this point the hellborn no longer argue, just make a vague your funeral statement, and give the item over.

Can it kill them? If you chug the bottle, sure.

Is it similar to drinking bleach? Yeah. Parts start to melt like they're trapped in an acid rainstorm starting from the inside out.

Sometimes it can warp how they reform. And it's a bitch and a half if you get it on your skin... burns like acid and won't stop til you get it all off.

So imagine if you will, that there's a hell alternative, sourced from the oceans of envy in Leviathan's realm. Supposedly off limits and out of reach to sinners because, well, fuck em that's why.

They're meant to be punished and Lucifer was pretty pissed with the whole cohort so he banned their access centuries back. Only Zestial recalls being able to cook with flavour...

Rumours say he ddid it in response to Lillith's rebellion and the inners that inspired it. Others believe, like the foolish romantic things they are, that Lucifer's life became bland without his Queen and wanted the rest of the Sinners to understand his pain, to know what they cost him.

All utter twaddle, really.

No one ever considers that perhaps it's just Like That here. After all... there's a lot of similar things in hell to their earth counterparts -like chimkin and pyork; hellborn dont know any different but sinners do.

That's the cruelty, that they can have something Like but not close enough. And without salt... a lot of those recipes you would eventually cave and try to make, just for a moecule of serotonin in the pits of literal despair... would be off.

Unless you pay for deliveries from another rings' business and the import taxes could bankrupt someone unwary, that is. Despair was a hell of a currency... and didn't the Vees and the other financially minded overlords know it. Not to mention more industrious hellborne.

Or, unless you had Connections.

One of the little thrills of being at the Hazbin Hotel was Charlotte unknowingly gifting the sinners (staff and guests alike) all access to Envy salt. She didn't see the big deal, and was caught off guard when Angel said that having the condiment available for every meal, was better than any rimjob he'd had in the last four decades.

Vaggie had hurled a plate like a discus at the man, aiming to remove his revolting mouth at the neck, but he'd caught it in a spare arm. Grinning at her.

"Admit it toots, you missed it too. Though I'm not sure how cause, seriously, ya whole attitude is salty." Dissolving into dorky laughter as her anger wavered into begrudging amusement.

"Oh shut up. But uh, we still got salt in Heaven, and there's always been some in the hotel... so I never really got a chance to miss it. "

Charlie interjects, confused in the way she had of being sincerely curious and obliviously privileged. "What do you mean? Aunties Levi and Levy sell it cheap to the other rings. Why wouldn't you have salt?"

Sensing a chance to educate and be a bit of a bastard about the king, Alastor interjects. "Why, my dear, haven't you heard your father decreed that Leviathan salt is banned to sinners? Its a silly little punishment designed to distress, because without it a number of meals that remind one of home just miss the mark. Insidious... i would almost be impressed if it was employed by anyone else."

Charlie deflates.

"Chin up, at least there's some here to bring something to the table. Unfortunately the spices are running a tad low so Husker will have to go and see if there's any of our dear hellborn contacts available to pop up to earth for a shopping spree "

"Wait, I can get dad to make us some?"

"And let him poison us? No thank you dear. You would absolutely survive anything he hides in the spice, he would make certain, but you know quite well sinners mean nothing to him."

"Thaaaaaaat's not... entirely true. He wouldn't kill you or make you sick deliberately, I dont think."

"He is the devil my dear Charlotte, and you know he will do anything to keep you safe from whatever he perceives as harm. Including even such innocuous creatures as dear Niffty."

Said sinner was being stopped from eating her plate by Angel and Husk. They were offering nonceramic options to limited success.

"Smiles, little help here?"

"Niffty, do drop that and I shall let you have the liver of the next sinner I hunt. You may adorn it with your beloved ketchup all you wish and I shan't even point out how it ruins the flavour, even once!"

Her pupil expands ominously. She squeals and drops the plate.

"Delightful. Now if you'll excuse me, Im afraid Carmilla wants a meeting with us about ensuring all the weaponry was returned. Vagatha, do you wish to come see your mentor?"

"Not my name..." she grumbles, following after with less hostility than she might have shown previously.

....

Charlie is left to wonder after why her father would make it so hard to cook non-bland foods.

He, after arriving to the dining area with great flair, explains that why not? It's meant to be a punishment. The memory of never quite tasting things the same as they were remembered and the despair of trying anyway was a punishment sinners enforced on themselves.

Charlie snaps that it wasn't okay, and that even little kindnesses like a positive memory of life reinforced through a good meal, could be instrumental for changing a sinner for the better.

Lucifer points out that no amount of paprika sprinkled on a sinner corpse was going to redeem her pet overlord or his friend Rhododendron.

Charlie pushes back saying it just might. How would he know? Had he tried before?

Her father pauses, considering, and she really should have paid attention to that odd expression as he asks if Al put her up to asking.

Charlie rolls her eyes. No, but he did do most of the cooking and he'd mentioned that the spices were low.

Ugh, the fucker was cooking for them? Are they sure it was really pyork and not sinner? Lucifer's disgust was obvious. Of course he'd eaten sinner before, eternity was a long time and you wanted to try new things on occasion. But it wasn't a, you know, hankering. A Need.

Charlie countered easily, if with a thread of frustration in the tone. Yes dad, they were very sure. Al cooked lots of stuff, not just sinner... and hey, even Lucifer had enjoyed some of the meals.

The king had to begrudgingly give him that. He cracks his knuckles, having an awful funny little idea. "Well, if that's the case and you trust him, I suppose theres no choice but to wa-bam! Spices restocked and a few new ones added! Straight from Earth to our pantry... let's see what the snarky fucker thinks about that."

Charlie beams at ber dad, hopeful that someday the pair might be friends... but understanding that it would be a matter of one small concession at a time.

....

Later, after the intrepid duo of Alastor and Vaggie returned from Carmilla's fortress of a territory, having been thoroughly negotiated with for future use of the steel... and royal favour if possible, the pair seem to head tiredly for the main sitting area.

Charlie greets them at the door like a labrador bursting with love for an owner that left an hour ago and they just weren't sure the person was ever coming back. Out of the kindness of her heart, Charlie offers to cook; and the overlord finds he suddenly has a burst of new energy, because no. Not again.

Niffty had just gotten the last attempt off the high vaulted ceilings.

Angel, lounging about on a rare day off, offered to help make something. He was struggling to find non drug and alcohol related activities now he had free time. And you could only play with yourself so many times in a day when it was what you did for work yknow?

Cherri was blowing up his phone with party deets, begging him to come over and play... and he was being so brave about it.

The sound of music filled the kitchen, helping a little. Filling in the gaps in his brain where the Wants crept in with sound. His twitchy hands put to use grabbing out equipment and ingredients as Al instructed.

Cooking was easy enough and soothing for the spider sinner. He cant recall what they were making, just followed instructions to peel and dice and cut as Al did his showmans patter over the music. Some truly insane stories from decades back in Hell and something about a sinner who sounded like Vox absolutely going face first into the pavement. The deer was a riot when he got going, and wasn't aiming his anger at you.

It felt... warm.

Well, hell always was, but this... cooking with someone always reminded Angel of his life before. Cooking was a whole experience if the family was together and had time. That's just how the bonded... well, 'cept dad and arackniss. Idiots got it into their head not to joint he family in the kitchen... as if every other guy in the other Families wasn't proudly cooking upa storm. They should've been embarrassed to miss out!

He notes the now overflowing spice rack and points it out to Al. Angel can't help the small grin as he sees those floofy red ears flick back in obvious agitated indignation, before they are forcefully corrected by the overlord.

Big bad fluffy ass adorable overlord. Betcha Al still thought the rest of the hotel didn't know about his tail... eh, let him keep his fragile sense of dignity. Angel'd trade his four best vibrators for a pat, though. Needed to know if it was anywhere near as soft as it looked.

That he knew was a secret, the kind you didn't snitch about to nobody. Al still didn't seem to realise it was Angel and Husk who'd found him a bloody mess after the new place opened, when that fake smile finally thinned and he'd passed out near his room. Lucky for the stubborn deer that they'd been keeping an eye 'cause Husk (the grumpy softie) felt something was wrong and followed him at a distance. Spooky Jnr (the shadow) had actually been hovering anxiously the whole time and practically came to get the not-so-subtle stalkers when Al had collapsed. They'd dagged the overlord into the new radio tower, yanked off the sodden layers, and given the idiot some actual first aid.

Husk had looked conflicted for a moment, just a fraction of a second there, and Angel kept thinking about if he'd have had the strength to gently clean, stitch and bandage his own overlord if the chance to let them die came up. He wants to think he'd show that same compassion... but Al wasn't Valentino, and thank fuck for that, so Angel knows he'd find a way to smother the moth bastard if he was ever that lucky.

Still, he now knew about the tail. Husk'd played it off like he'd been the only person to help when the near-delirious and panicked deer snapped awake the next morning in his new bed, all trussed up. But he's sure something of the night must have stayed in that red head, because sometimes Al looked at him from the corner of his eyes. Testing him, maybe seeing if Angel wanted something from him, or was going to use it against him.

Sure, the sinner was a bit of a muck up, and he'd killed for fun, but like... no one important. Not friends, not family, not... whatever these weirdoes in the hotel had come to be to him. But he couldn't breach the gap to tell Al he was safe with Angel, because that'd be saying th quiet bit out loud... and he's not sure he'd get the same answer back.

But... he'd noticed he was able to just exist 'round Al, even with his dirty jokes, more often now. There was a slight ease of tension. Same as the one he had with Vaggie, really... you didn't say anything out loud, but you both knew there was an easiness there. A safety.

She hadn't even thrown that plate hard enough to decapitate earluer, and if that didn't say sisterly love, what could it stand for?

The sound of staticky uh, french-like words spluttering over the music in little hissing bursts catches Angel's attention. He snaps back into the moment.

Alastor looked furious and indignant about the whole cosmic flex of Lucifer's restocking. Of course the little king had interfered. It wasn't done kindly, it was another reminder that he could do anything he wanted and it was so Easy... with one thought he invalidated another way that Alastor was helpful to the hotel. His spy networks, the deals he had with smugglers... no longer necessary.

All so his majesty could try and show his daughter how useless even the most powerful sinners were in relation to the Morningstar family. Missing her point entirely... again.

Just because one Could doesn't mean one Should or even Must.

Angel, as one who had been around Hell for a while and could see what was yanking Al's chain about this mess, points out that it actually didn't curry favour with Charlie. Not like Short King intended after all.

Heck, he even points out it aint that bad if you reaaaaally thought about it... cause hey, saved money and time in the end, right?

Seeing a need to distract, he fluffed up his chest fur, draped himself over the countertop and cooed. Alastor's ears went right up in alert, and Angel would've bet Fat Nuggets that that floofy tail was doing the same in some ancient panic instinct.

Putting it on thick, to dispel the tension, Angel grins lazily at Al. Pointing out that, hey... maybe you could get them sexy smugglers to bring the starlet back some of those new Toys he'd heard about, cause word on the street was that there was this new kinda Stroker that-...

Al looked like he was about to have a stroke... but the ears settled. This was familiar nonsense.

Angel laughed, not unkindly, and stretched upright again. Messing with Al and Vags was sort of fun, like a hobby you dusted off when things got a bit Meh. It was also fun to get the Radio Demon on the ropes, given how much the guy liked to shitstir all on his own.

Alastor, for his part, then caught Angel completely off guard by asking if all 6 of his arms were broken - because why would he need something like that otherwise? The scrunched expression actually showed the overlord was trying to rationalise the request. Fuck, that was hilarious...

The whole bizarre nature of the conversation actually made Angel tear up in disbelieving mirth, holding his sides.

"How the fuck do you know what that is?" He'd wheezed, trying to imagine Al flicking casually through one of the Lust catalogues like he would a newspaper on Sunday. The mental image blurred and warped like Al on a camera screen, it was too hard to picture.

"We're from the same time period my good man, and Hell's advertising campaigns are as persistent as they are pervasive." Al points out the kitchen window at a number of visible billboards that displayed products one would not anticipate being so openly advertised anywhere else.

Nothing subtle about the new DragonDrillDo XXXL-treme from VoxTek! The billboard ran the breadth of three adjacent buildings and the product looked like it could probably could kill a Sin if used incorrectly.

"Oh. Well, a stroker is like... you know how sometimes you just have had a long day, and you don't wanna have to do everything yourself, right? Gotta get that dopamine flowing somehow, and store bought is fine in this house. No shade." He flutters his eyelashes and watches the deer sigh in silent resignation that he would weather whatever came out of Angel's mouth right now.

"Why don't we get one for the table, you know... to share if you like, and I'll help ya try it out..." the eyebrow waggle was excessive, but it sure was fun.

He hadn't anticipated the slice of tomato that slaps him dead on the forehead. Laughing harder as it slips down his face slowly, as if in on the bit.

"One could point out the merits of putting in a hard day's work, and using a little elbow grease as it were. The things you do by hand provide greater satisfaction, over the artificial...or so I have always come to understand." Al deadpans back, grinning at the suddenly shocked expression on Angel's face. "Come now, little spider, you don't truly believe that I'm blind to that side of life, hmm?"

"Smiles, watch what you say... with the visuals my brain is producing, asking me to come anywhere might just be a dangerous game." Angel quips back, putting certain mental images aside for later perusal. The guy was hot in the weird scary way of the overlords... so sue him.

He, predictably, gets another tomato slice to the face. Charlie was gonna scold them for wasting food in a hot minute. Ah well, Angel's just grateful it wasn't the capsicum, that coulda stung for days, had the overlord had them to hand.

Still, the fact he wasn't being mauled by poppets means that he musta wormed his way into Al's Good Graces. Same as husk and Niff and Charlie... and maybe Vags, he's not sure where those two fall now. Less attempted stabbing with that little angelic toothpick, at least... so maybe they're doing okay too.

"If you are quite done being ridiculous," Alastor makes quite the show of rolling his eyes and blasting an audience groaning at him. "Do be a, hah, a deer, and grab out the following..."

Angel may have four hands on heh, hand, most of the time but the list of spices was getting excessive at this point. They can't all go in the same dish, right? It'd be too much for one tongue to process and just come out feeling like you licked a powerpoint or something.

Angel's smart mouth moves as if to say something of the sort to the guy who could technically turn him inside out and not in the fun way, but won't 'cause they're not-buddies now... when something shifts. It's almost like the little glass thing wiggles out of the way of his grasping fingers and then hurls itself downward.

The cap unscrews itself as it falls, in a way that seemed too easy for something new, something allegedly just off the shelf of some earth store or whatever. His eight eyes flare wide with realisation at the What, but there's nothing he can do, no way to react fast enough to move as the contents begin to spray outward. A torrent that shouldn't be possible.

Angel feels someone grab one of his lower shoulders and yank him back, with a speed and ferocity that should have tossed him across the room, but even with that action he can sense it's far too late.

Scalding pain sears up his right upper arm and shoulder, fragmenting across face, neck and a splotch on her lower right arm. It's blinding. He's been hurt real fucking bad before, and each time felt different... this... this was like flashes of lighning behind the eyes.

Fuck, he hadn't felt anything like this since they stopped doing electronecro shoots. Fucking hated the few moths Val'd been into that... or maybe it eas Travis. Both needed to choke to death for that mess, if the world was fair, that is.

Angel can't comprehend anything but the twanging of nerves as his trajectory and the full force of his lanky telephone pole of a body is yanked straight into a writhing mass of darkness. The inky mass of shadows hissing frantically as granules continue to spill down, shielding as best they can despite ther own discomfort.

Dimly, Angel wonders if they feel pain... if Al can feel their pain, or what they touch. It's a weird thought...

Heh, best not share that with Val or he'd find a way to fuck that shadow, and Al'd burn down the whole of Pride. Oh, hang on, loopy thoughts, nope, can't do shock. that's bullshit. Get it together Angel.

The shadows brush over his limbs, dislodging what they could of the corrosive substance, trying to help where they could. Despite the obvious discomfort it caused everyone involved.

Angel is half braced on a nearby bench, trembling, because fuck that hurts, One of his arms is being gripped to near bruising strength, and the other is grasping Alastor's should right back.

Despite attempts to stifle it, Angel could feel his mouth part in a harsh, agonised cry as several of the utensils and bowls they were using crashed to the floor at the sudden displacement of bodies.

The container clanged to the floor innocently, rolling away and spewing out more than a dozen jars that size should have been able to produce. Perhaps an enchantment? Wouldn't be the first bottomless thing conjured; saved on shopping bills if things just refilled when empty or expired.

His shout must have alerted others because Vaggie was suddenly there, spear brandished wildly, as Husk stormed in behind her. The pair look ready to skewer Alastor if he was secretly attempting to murder and cook Angel.

To be fair... that was certainly one assumption. Angel could suggest a few other reasons for callig out that might get him actually, honest-to-satan, turned into shish kabobs by Al. He lets out a shaky laugh as his thoughts go a bit silly again.

He just holds off on slapping himself across the face, trying to stay calm. He'd had worse, much, much, MUCH worse... and this was what set off the hysterics? Fuck off with that!

Although, based on the way Husk's stern expression blanched just as sharply as Vaggie's, perhaps he wasn't being a big old baby about this. Maybe it really was Bad.

"Shit." Vaggie hisses, eye wide, and spear donking onto the floor. "What the fuck happened in here?"

Angel pushes himself upright as the shadows recede, breathing deliberately. That cute little in-out thing Charlie did in yoga the other day, something about breathing into boxes wasn't it? He wants to make a dumb box-based joke, but the energy is going into not-screaming as he moves his torso.

Angel can feel himself calming slightly, against the residual stinging pain in his cheek. Fuck, must've gotten some there. It's about a 5 out of 10, compared to the rest... until he tries to smile and reassure the others. Then it hits a full-on 7.5.

His eyes water, fuck, yeah he's not gone soft. That actually really goddamn hurts. It's exactly like that time Angel accidentally spilled acid on himself disposing of a rat uptop, the scars were still healing on his arm when he died. What a weird damn thing to recall.

Soemthing moved beside him, stiffer than usual but nonetheless commanding attention. "Husker, Vagatha... do NOT let Niffty in here. She'll harm herself attempting to clear the mess, and likely try to roll in it to chase the burning pain. You know her proclivities by now." The tone is that odd twist of jovial and authoratative, but the normal playful teasing lilt to it has a note of strain there.

Angel feel his world do a dark somersault as Alastor tugs him through the shadows and across the room to the entrance. Far away from the salt littering the surfaces about the cupboard, not to mention the floor. It seemed to still be trickling out of the container... what the actual fuck.

Vaggie ducked out the door and yelled for Charlie, citing urgency and that they needed medical help. Angel starts to think that perhaps that was, you know, overkill... but he's suddenly aware of how hard he's leaning on support when Husk pulls him off of Alastor and braces him with his own paws.

Those golden eyes are roving over the sinner, and Angel can't find the energy for a sexy little pout and some coquettish quip. Whiskers clearly ain't into what he sees. That expression could glower its way through steel doors if he wanted it to.

"Well, fuck... what kind of idiot puts actual, honest-to-goddamn-earth salt in the kitchen?" Husk mumbles herding Angel immediately towards the far counter, eyes assessing. "Gotta wash this off quick - you might have some clinging to your skin. Is the sink clear?"

The words ring in the air, echoing against the clashing sounds of their footsteps and the pounding of Angel's heart in his ears. It's about that point he catches up with the realisation that there's no music playing.

He glances back at the visibly seething Overlord, who was trying not to appear to be propping himself up against the nearby open door, and failing somewhat. Angel could see that the damn salt had clearly caught Al across the shoulder, upper back, neck and patches to one side of his face. One of the silly red ears was rather less fluffy, appearing quite agitated as it twitched.

Well, fuck. If Al caught a glancing blow whilst dragging Angel out of the spray, then how bad was the starlet? He felt barbecued.

Hah, technically he'd been pre-prepped and marinated in something. Maybe Al and his friend Rosie could take a nibble! Husk shook him, gently, but enough to click his brain back into the here and now. The hysteria quashed back down for the moment, he'd give his third pair of arms for that mess to stop.

"Hey, listen this is going to suck but it's necessary to get it off you. So just stay with me, alright?" Husk murmurs, wetting a teatowel and sarting to sluice the areas. He might have sworn rather viciously at the first touch of water... but by the time the second lot poured over the area, it started to feel soothing.

"Well this has been quite the little frustration. All our preparations have been tainted by something that would try to ea the stomach of those who ingested it." Alastor snarls as Vaggie approaches, slowly, as if she was trying to tempt an injured feral cat into accepting help.

His eyes snapped to her, and without the shadows, it was clear the extent of the damage. Angel hadn't realised Salt could eat through clothing until now, probably for the best he'd done such a damn good job on those stitches, the top edges of the wound are almost invisible under the regrown deer fur.

Angel can feel his own shirt just as ratty, and mourns the loss of it. He'd liked how it made his chest perk just right... and getting a shirt that could switch from four to six arms was a bitch and a half in this town. The enchantments alone cost him a lot in terms of repaying Val in weird, off the wall kink stuff the moth was into and Angel wasn't.

Briefly, Angel considered the fact he'd thought seeing Al dishevelled like this would make him look kinda hot, maybe a bit naughty. But it was kinda distressing, and freaky. Not unlike the night they found him collapsed, really. Overlords are meant to be untouchable gods compared to Sinners on the street, seeing them fucked up and hurt was... actually frightening in a weird way.

At least you could say that the mussy look made Al's perpetual grin all the more manic. You could feel that the wrong move might end in someone getting bitten. The radio dial eyes, though, suggested that perhaps Al had an idea who did this... and they were going to PAY.

It was also kind of a mess in his head now, not just his own injury. But Alastor actually interceding. He didn't have to, he'd been out of the 'splash zone' as it were... why the fuck had he risked harm by coming to get Angel?

Was this ike how sometimes Al would appear and take on Sinners targeting hotel staff? Or that time he literally took a bullet for Husk, and laughed about it, only to make the offender eat his own weapon until his teeth broke on the barrel and the fucker was a mess of snotty tears? Niffty'd turned the dislodged molars into a necklace and gifted it to Charlie... who had worn it for a full day and then put it 'somewhere safe'.

Hah, get wrecked you stubborn deer, you LIKE me! Angel suppresses his gleeful little giggle, knowing it'd hurt to let it out right now. The flicker of smug grin Husk shot him seemed to indicate he agreed. Or at least, that's what Angel was interpreting that as.

Still, guilt did churn in his guts cause, yeah, he could take a beating and all but it never felt right to have others get hurt for him. Anytime Cherri caught a blow in a fight to prevent him taking it, it weighed on him. This... this was just as messed up, but in a different way.

Alastor was shorter than Angel, not by much, but enough that it was inevitable that the salt showering on the spider was going to trickle down to those below even as they pulled him from the metaphorical line of fire.

Something down Angel's chest was burning, but at this point, he straight up wasn't ready to look down and acknowledge the full extent of this horror. Inside his chest, his heart was alternating between thundering at Husk's tender care and proximity... and aching for accidentally getting someone else hurt, for his sake.

He's just some washed up, rent-a-hole whore, why would anyone-... his fists clenched. No, no we're going to be kind to ourself. Even if it feels all woo-woo and new agey bullshit, but Charlie thinks there's worth in me. Husk looks at me like I hung the moon. Alastor put himself in harm's way to help me. They must think I'm worth something beyond my body, beyond sex.

And one day I'm gonna feel confident about that too. Not yet, but I'm gonna get there. Angel reassured himself.

"It's okay..." Husk murmurs, the mantra repeated soothingly over and over, until the tension in his arms released. "There you go... don't let the thoughts win. Hard to fight your own brain, but you can. I've won, and you will too."

Well, fuck, he can't not fantasise about riding Husk off into the sunset now can he? Not when Whiskers was being so kind, so understanding, so-... smug, actually. But following the flicking tail with his eyes helped to settle the weirder thoughts the spider was experiencing.

The calm immediately broken when the cavalry arrived.

Charlie blasts open the doors with the largest first aid kit known to sinner-kind. Three Nifftys could sleep in it with room to spare for the entire bug collection... where the fuck did the Princess get this thine?

Ah, Angel idly notes the Sloth symbol. Well, of course it was from Bellphagore, the Sin was prodigious for naptime and medical care.

"Nobody panic! I have literally everything we could ever need to manage a situation right here! How bad is it? Is anybody dead?" She rapid-fires across the room, eyes darting in all directions to assess the situation.

"It's fine, nothing that won't heal in a day or so, charlotte do calm down!" Alastor grins, doing his mildly condescending little hand wave, straightening back to his cheerful persona as if he wasn't half-charred.

Husk actually walks across the room and smacks his overlord over the back of the head with a wing. "Just cut the shit, Al, we both know that hurts like a bitch... and I'm like 85% sure being honest about that for once won't kill you. Probably. Ain't like anyone here will take advantage of you like this, they like you... lord knows someone has to."

That startles a laugh out of the deer. "Oh Husker, you are a delight..."

"More importantly," Husk interjects. Starting to tug the only mildly-resisting Alastor towards the sink as well. It's a miracle no one has been bitten yet. "How did this even happen? The only salt we got in the hotel is from Envy, normally... and you can't just accidentally get the earth stuff, right?"

Lucifer pops in in a swirling array of red-gold sparkles. "There you are sweetie, what's the hullaballoo that's got you yelling all over the hotel?"

Charlie, already pulling out more gauze and cream than anyone would need in a lifetime, gestures at Angel and Alastor. Husk returns to his task of gently wiping over Angel's angry-looking shoulder with a moistened towel; it takes effort for the spider not to flinch.

"Ooh yikes. Hmmm, looks like you got a little clumsy in the kitchen there, bambi." Lucifer grins, eyes sparkling with malicious delight. His expression doesn't waver as it takes in Angel. "And you managed to damage a guest in the process, how can you call yourself a bellhop? For shame."

The antlers creak ominously, extending upwards and pulling at the angry skin there as Alastor clearly chooses to ignore the limitations in the face of the small all-powerful asshole before him.

The process pauses, in shock, as Husk tests the bounds of Al's famously finite patience by clipping him again with a wing. Angel is going to have a heart attack if Whiskers doesn't cut that out right the fuck now. Al seems to surprised to be angry, at least.

What the porn start wasn't expecting, was to have the too-bright grin turned upon him as Alastor asked. "Angel... the device you mentioned earlier, would it come in such a width that one could cram the entirety of his Lowness into the orifice, since he wants to act like a pompous little dic-...?!"

"Whoakay, no need for that. I'm sure it was an accident..." Charlie interjects, hands up like someone trying to settle a furious horse that was ready and willing to cave someone's ribcage in.

Lucifer winked at Alastor and turned to face his daughter, "Of course it was, sweetie, I'd never hurt your guests deliberately!"

That omission caught even Charlie"s attention. "...dad? I just want to clarify... not accusing you or anything, but did you... know that you summoned earth salt when you restocked the pantry?"

"Of course not Char Char." Said the prince of lies, whose smile was violently gleeful under that insipid hat.

Charlie's expression closed off completely, pinched taut, as she saw Angel breathe his way through the gentle sluicing of water over too raw skin. Her mind was racing as rapidly as her pulse. Worst case scenarios whirling through her mind.

Would Valentino punish Angel for this? For being hurt and likely delaying filming? Probably. Fuck. She hated this.

Charlie takes a deep breath, and forces a smile onto her face. She can do this. "Dad. It starts with Sorry? Remember?"

"Of course, Char-Char! Ahem, Angle Rust, im sorry you were injured by accident." Lucifer chirped, looking slightly to the left of the sinner and not really caring for anything but Charlie's approval in this situation. He thinks he nailed the faux concern too, the pompous little cockrel.

Thankfully, his daughter is not the naive child he recalls. The King of Hell's eyes go wide eough to fall out of their sockets as his own beloved daughter hurls a half chopped cabbbage at his head. The leaves exploding about like confetti, leaving him bewildered and blinking sharply. "What?"

"That. Was NOT. An. Apology. Dad." Charlie growls, horns out and tail lashing. "We don't try to hurt others here, and I get you have an issue with Al for some reason... but this is ridiculous! You of all people know that earth salt can permanently harm sinners, so why would you do this?! I'm not as stupid as you think dad, it's clear you were hoping to get Alastor with this, because he's our main cook. And look what you did! Angel's hurt too, do you have any idea what his overlord might do to him because he's not 'camera ready'?"

Angel actually froze as icy dread clawed its way up his spine hand over hand. With everything happening, Angel really hadn't thought that far ahead, and now someone spoke the reality aloud he found himself visibky fighting back tears.

Val would make him pay for damaging company property...

Fuck, he'd be lucky if they let him leave the studio again.

"Worry not Angel," Comes an unexpectedly calm voice. "I will clear my schedule for the evening and deal with the moth. He's been on the to do list for a while..." Alastor reassured, admittedly uncertain why he was being so altruistic. He'd told himself to stop caring after the whole Adam fiasco. Damn it all.

"You... will? Why, I ain't got nothing to offer you..." Angel looked confused. That mask slipped over his face as he grinned salaciously, "unless ya changed your mind about that offer i made to suck ya-..."

It was his turn to get smacked with a wing.

"Behave."

"Anything for you, Whiskers..."

"Drop the act, its creepy." Husk groaned, wringing the teatowel out over something on Angel's side. The avian feline hissed in sympathy as Angel flinched back from the sensation, then cringed at the way the rest of his skin went taut. "Stay still if you can, I know it hurts, but you're doing great..."

"Indeed Angel, creepy is my shtick... do find your own." Al drawls, taking a subtle step away from the now-advancing Charlie, who had her demonic aspects out and more duckie shaped bandaids than anyone should have a right to have access to. "Please keep those away from me."

"Only if you let me flush the injury with at least some water to make sure we get it all off of you." Charlie negotiates, putting down the bandaids in a manner that suggested they could be snatched up again in a split second. And for a moment, Alastor feels pride at her clear if clumsy attempt at manipulation. She appears to have learned deceptive kindness, will demonic wonders never cease?

Lucifer is scowling. "Stop being such a drama queen. Here, I'll fix your little boo boos, even though its pointless because this is hell and you'll be hurt doing something violent or self destructive in the next four hours anyway, if you stop complaining about it. You got pranked, deal with it bambi."

Alastor bared his teeth sharply at the king's outstretched hand as the monarch advanced. Angel could see something trembling sharply under the coat from the corner of his eyes and guessed the deer instincts were not taking this threat all that well. "For someone who sees himself as above the so-called barbaric, cruel and hopeless sinners, sire, you certainly dont hesitate to utilise similar actions to harm out of petty jealousy."

The King pauses, scoffing arrogantly. "Jealousy? Of what, you? The freak manipulating my own daughter with this stupid sweet-cannibal overlord act? Fuck you. Because let's be real here... overlord or no, if i really wanted to I could just smite you and be done with it. Why can't you take a joke, Annette?"

Alastor learns towards the King. "Then do it, little majesty, smite away. Because I'm certain that a little spot of casual murder will repair the fracture between you and Charlotte fantastically and not just remind her how little you care for the sinners she's trying desperately to save."

He pauses, and if he physically could, Alastor would be scowling. "And for further clarification, you feathered fool - a prank is only worthwhile if the victims find it funny in the aftermath. Although given how isolated you've been, one can only imagine how little of the social graces or cues have remained. Is it any wonder everyone you ever loved has abandoned you?"

Lucifer was growing brighter with every word, horns out, tail lashing. Ah, there's the family resemblance.

There's a general group inhalation, and Angel sucks it through his teeth, his nerves flicked into flight or fight mode as the Devil himself seethes. You can feel his power like the pulses of sound at a concert, it moved through you and you know it could crush your bones with the right frequency.

"Sinner scum, you think you can show such disrespect to me and get away with it?" Lucifer's breathing hellfire on every word, very biblical and not at all overly-theatrical. How fascinating. "Let's see how smug you are when I strip your flesh from your bones!"

"Hah, you wouldn't even be the first to try it, you duck-obsessed dictator. Do attempt some originality, majesty, or did the creative flair disintegrate when you landed in Hell?" Alastor tosses back, appearing unconcerned about the fact that at least Vaggie and Charlotte are making definitive 'cut it out' gestures at him.

Shadows shoved Charlie, Vaggie, Husk and Angel out of the way as a blast of something bright hurtled through the kitchen towards Alastor; decimating retinas left and right.

Angel briefly wonders if Val would be open to having the scripts done in braille so he knows when to moan and when to say something dirty... because it didn't feel like he'd ever see again. Fuck, the sink seemed to be gone, as well as the walls behind it.

Charlie screamed in a horrified fury, leaping for her father, who was grinning as he panted in rage. "Not so smug now, are you, bambi?"

The grin dropped in pure shock as a rather disappointed-looking Alastor appeared from the dimming decimated area, appearing fundamentally unchanged... except for the collar flaring brightly, tight against his throat.

"Ah, blast. I'd hoped that would do the trick... do you want to try again, little majesty? I'm sure you have a number of insecurities I could prod at if you need motivation...?" Alastor asked, seizing at the lilac chain with obvious disgust behind that smile.

"You... what? How are you alive? Is that my-...?" Lucifer stammered, thrown off-guard. He could have vaporised Adam with that blast, why the fuck was the BELLHOP alive?

He receives a withering glare. "Do catch up. Yes, it is. No, I can't say where she is, though one might look upward for answers."

Charlie covers her mouth, breathing in for four and out for four. She can stay calm. Her dad tried to kill her not dad mentor overlord friend hotelier over some jibes, after he tried to pull a prank that could have severely injured him but backfired and got two members of her hotel instead. And something her missing mother did saved Al from the smiting, but he... was upset he didn't what? Die? Was this the time for crisis counselling? Was this a cry for help? What did the mental health first aid guide recommend? This was NOT in the curriculum!

Vaggie was there, immediately, her gentle hands holding her close and encouraging her to breathe. This was all so insane.

" If you are quite finished your tantrum, Little Majesty, would you heal Angel Dust already and show some contriteness for how your actions caused this harm?" Alastor snipes, redirecting attention to the other sinner. "He's quite injured, and I dislike knowing you have brought harm to a friendly party whilst attempting to torment myself. There will be a way to make you pay, little king, and I intend for you to worry about when and what form that will take."

Lucifer, possibly in shock, shuffled over to the starlet with a slightly vacant expression; reaching out mechanically to grab a wrist. He pulses gold light up the spider's arm, wrapping it around the injuries and soothing the harm without any visible effort.

By the time the light fades, even the hair has regrown to its normal pattern and consistency over the previously burned patches. Good as new. That was insane.

Husk has to physically catch Angel as his knees go weak from the sudden rush of endorphins as the pain stopped completely. They stumble a step before Angel can get his shit together in the wake of such an unexpected headrush.

Lucifer rounds on Alastor. "Now you're gonna tell me what the fuck that's about!" He gestures at the collar, " And why seemingly everyone else in Hell can land a blow on your frail crimson ass... but me trying to actively Smite you is waved off? Do you understand how physically impossible that actively is?"

Alastor lets his neck crack sickeningly to the side. "Hah, that's quite simple. She made it clear that I would not be allowed to let you stop me in any way, shape or form and wove it into the contract. Especially not die, unless it was in service to her daughter's hotel or ideals. Everything about you and your abilities is made to bend around that of your dear wife and her abilities; she bet the farm on being able to ensure against you causing harm to someone under her banner. You have no power here, little morningstar, and you most certainly aren't supposed to Be here. That has been made abundantly clear."

Lucifer found himself flinching back. He could hear the echoes of Lillith in those words, in her darker moments, when she'd lost composure against the only being in all of hell who could withstand her powerful fury.

Charlie looked stricken. "Al, what dad did wasn't right, and I'm not devaluing your experiences, but... everyone is welcome at the hotel. You can't say that to him."

Lucifer is looking at him pointedly, eyes narrowed and stomach roiling in horror as he deciphered this mess. "I don't... think that's what he meant, Char-Char. I think... your mother doesn't want me here, around you, and that's... upsetting her. Which used to be why palace staff got replaced so frequently... but I don't think you ever noticed, duckling."

"Why would she try to keep us apart?" Charlie frowned, her memories of time with her mother were so cheerful, interspersed with some odd moments of formailty and a bleakness. But who wasn't an angsty teen at some point?

Lucifer can't help the hysterical little laugh that escapes. "Charlie, she's done nothing but for your entire life. Why stop now?"

His jaw clicks shut as if horrified to have been so blunt.

"As disgusting as the words are in my mouth, I'm afraid I must agree with your father, Charlotte." Alastor grimaces somehow, the smile was there but he looked like he'd gotten a mouthful of poison with no way to spit it out. "You were to be kept separate, and away from... toxic idealism i believe is the wording used. Though I would argue you've already received a fatal dose lready, based on the hotel alone."

A laugh track plays, it feels perfunctory. Expected.

"Did she... make you come here?" Charlie asks bracing herself. It was pretty obvious, but given her mind was whirling form the last half hour, she feels she's doing pretty well actually!

"Yes, and no. Not at first, at least. Initially she just wanted someone to keep an eye on you, especially during your initial forays out into Pride. Your... enthusiasm often outweighed your common sense, before you found Vagatha, who then took on the role of guarding you." Alastor made a dramatic wink at the ex-orcist, who flushed slightly gold under the scrutiny.

"It was later, after that rousing disaster of a television program, when I approached you directly at the hotel that she decided to add stipulations about this project. Though her... request... to keep the royal house divided has been a source of contention as of late, especially with the recent meetings with Heaven and battle."

"So you're... sort of here on your own free will?" Charlie clung to hope that this answer would silence the crushing guilt in her stomach.

"You could say so. I wasn't forced to come to the hotel, that was out of interest and convenience, but once here it was identified that... she would prefer I stay. Which has been most frustrating." Alastor's right ear flattened, the left was damaged and twitched in place.

That prompted Angel to step in. "Okay, can we do story time when Al's not covered in salt-related injuries? I can tell you it sucks harder than Tina Titfucker in Tornad-hoes at Large 4: Return of the Gobbler, and she's a vacuum cleaner of a sinner when she gets going."

Vaggie looks revolted at the segue, but Husk is grinning.

Lucifer stiffens. "...I did say I'd fix it, didn't I, bambi? Can't have you swooning like a damsel in the middle of a big plot reveal... this isn't a hellanovella."

Alastor steps out of range of the hand, and is immediately bracketed by Angel and Husk. "I am willing to eat my way out of this, so anyone who wants to keep their hands on their bodies has until the count of 1." he snarls at them.

"Nah, I think you're going to chill out and trust us..." Angel teases, poking out his tongue and tightening his grip.

"If you think the whole... other night situation is going to save you frm my wrath, I assure you, the debt has been repaid already with this little mess. Do not test me." the Overlord snipes, going deathly still as the radio dials flashed. But intriguingly the sinners don't seem to be phased.

Angel seems intrigued. "Wait, you remember that? How'd you know I was there too?"

"Well, my good man, I know two tall pink-adjacent sinners and you, sir, were not in Rosie's signature attire." Alastor deadpans, as Husk clearly attained a ery specific visual and bit his lip to stifle the laughter. "I do appreciate the assistance, but had assumed it was implied that the reciprocal debt was up to me to figure out how to fulfil..."

"Er, no... sometimes you just help people ya care about, so they don't die. That's what people do. Would you have hesitated if it was like Rosie, or Charlie?" Angel asks, wondering who fucked up this guy's sense of trust... but then recalled where they lived and decided the answer was 'probably everyone'.

"That's... different."

"Did you three fuck? What's this coded thing happening here?" Vaggie interjects, looking to be on the verge of pulling her hair out.

Husk's hat falls off as he bursts into deep gales of laughter at the very idea. Angel pouts, "Aw Whiskers, it'd be real hot if we did... are you laughing at little old me...?"

Alastor appeared to be considering the implications of their statements and the current positioning of everyone. It was a plausible question.

He sighs, tensing slightly as Lucifer stepped closer. "No, rest assured I did not breach any of the fraternisation rules of the hotel. These two were foolish enough not to take the opportunity for a raise in status and power, when they discovered I was injured after the little fight with Heaven. Husker maintained he was the only one who was present, but I recall more than they suspect."

Angel gasped. "Fuck, you weren't awake for the stitches were you? I shoulda given you something."

"Rest assured, it wouldn't have been the worst thing that's happened to me, but no... that bit is not part of my recollections." Alastor assured, wondering why he felt the need to. He should have pressed on that guilt like a bruise, delighted in the agony and regret Angel exuded. But he was tired, and in pain and the... stars or something were incorrectly aligned for such schadenfreude. Something along those lines.

The spider and the cat seemed to relax a fraction.

"Good, cause I'd've felt like an asshole otherwise. That took ages to fix... you shoulda said something earlier, asshole." Angel mumbles, tightening his hold as Lucifer made contact. "No, keep all tentacles to yourself, Al... and teeth! Fuck, I need that arm, bad overlord! I'm not above smacking you with a rolled up newspaper if you snap at me again!"

"You wouldn't dare..." Alastor gasped, shocked.

"He would, and I'd find the sunday edition, so it had extra heft." Husk confirmed, the traitor.

Skin healed over, fur regrew, and the persistent sting seemed to fade. Lucifer paused, and then tugged the thinnest thread of somthing from Alastor's chest, causing the sinner writhe at the sensation. It was fine as a hair, tangling in on itself and disappearing into the aether at a casual flick of the devil's wrist.

"Got rid of the divine grace holding that little scratch open on you. You're welcome. Now, tell me more about this deal with my wife." Lucifer says, tugging his hand back as Alastor sagged, breathing heavily.

Husk turned and flared his wings, creating a bit of a privacy screen as he checked in with the Overlord. "You still alive?"

"Indeed. It's been... some time since there was a lack of pain in my everyday that it quite caught me off-guard." Alastor mumbled back, and wasn't that fucking sad to hear?

"You wanna talk to short king though? I can give him the old Sinder wink and take him somewhere to forget his wife for a bit, if you get me, and you can escape." Angel suggests, winking outrageously.

Alastor rolls his eyes. "I can't ask anyone to take on that level of vile task for my sake..."

There's an offended "HEY! I'm a CATCH you fucking period stain! Anyone would be delighted to sleep with m-... oh, sorry honey, I forgot you were there." from the other side of Husk's wing curtain.

Alastor straightened and used a flash of magic to repair his attire, and that of Angel, removing the muss of moments before. He nods to Husk, who drops his wings.

"What do you want to know?"

"The exact terms of the deal, as best you can provide it, because I'm sensing a silence order in the binding." Lucifer says, not quite a command, but bordering on it. Alastor glares at the mini monarch, but Charlotte looks on the verge of tears, so he relents.

"She has requested someone watch out for and protect Charlotte, and ensure her safety, no matter the cost. As I mentioned before there were caveats about that, and the hotel, but overall Charlotte is the centre of the matter. This includes managing any threats to the hotel, and not inciting any major overlord based drama, as she liked to term it. It's the main reason I haven't ripped Vox's head off and shoved it up the moth's backside like a matroyshka doll." Alastor's expression went sinister, and it definitely felt like there was backstory there that no one wanted to touch right now.

"Uh-huh... and what else?"

"Keep you away. Isolate Charlotte from your influence if possible. Keep her in a position where she can be seen as a harmless figurehead that Heaven will never feel the need to deal with or remove. thus the encouragement in this redemption farce." Alastor says, waving a hand and trying to ignore how Charlotte's fallen expression panged at the heart he definitely didn't have.

"But... it could work!" Charlie says, her passion and desperation driing her to tearfulness.

"Exactly. It COULD work, and she is afraid for you if it should."

"...what?" Charlie jerks back, blinking owlishly.

"There is... precedent, for a sinner being redeemed. I can't tell you about that, because she has bound it... but she didn't say that I couldn't mention it has happened before just the details."

"He's lying Charlie, don't get your hopes up." Lucifer warns, movng towards his daughter as her expression wars between hope and confusion. "She could have told him to say that..."

"I can also tell you, that redemption confuses Heaven, and she was told to deal with it last time it happened. Which is why she..." the next words cut off as the chain flared. The silencing charm in effect.

"Hmmm, you know, I don't recall if I was banned from explaining how the redemption allegedly happened... I understand they were out in an extermination with at least one person they didn't want to see die, and foolishly decided to stand between them and angel blades. I still don't understand how that resulted in redemption, because realistically thousands of sinners have tried to protect others from Exorcists over the years of slaughter... why this particular one?"

Charlie's eyes went wide. "That's... a really big clue, thanks Al! Ohhhh we need to look into this, it has to be about the intent! Or maybe the connection?"

"Please breathe, baby..." Vaggie murmurs, gently.

"Anything else?" Lucifer asked, frowning at Alastor. He didn't like this situation. It felt too convenient.

"She made it clear I was not to directly raise arms against or antagonise Heaven, particularly her first husband. To ensure this, she put a rather frustrating bind on my powers, I have some access... but not all." Alastor seemed to be aiming for nonchalant, but was clearly uncomfortable with having shared such a vulnerability, possibly wondering why he had done so.

Charlie looked like she wanted to grab his hands and say something heartfelt. Lucifer looked a tad too smug... and Vaggie's expression was torn between realisation and a base-born desire to throttle him. That, he could work with.

"Are you telling me, you old-timey idiota, that you faced the first man without any angelic steel and at half your power? What were you THINKING?!" she explodes, yanking at her hair.

"It was a conflict of orders, protect Charlotte and the Hotel but don't raise arms. It was the best caveat I could find... and honestly he was such a sloppy little thing, if it had't been for the guitar axe nonsense damaging my staff, it wouldn't have taken much more to kill him."

"But you-... ugh..." there was a string of words Husk looked like he agreed with but refused to translate. "Not the point! You should have said something! We could have had you put up the shield from somewhere less vulnerable to attack... had someone near you WITH the steel so you didn't have to pick it up. It's called trust, you idiot, try it sometime!"

Alastor's ears were flat back on his skull, eyes wide. He seemed taken aback she'd care at all.

"Welcome to being cared about, Al, you'll never know peace or privacy again... but the people make it worth it." Angel says, slinging an arm over the Overlord's shoulders. "I do have one question though... how can you be, y'know, in a soul deal, and still keep your souls?"

"Ah, that's simple, negotiation. Technically, there are still a number of souls under Husker, who is under myself. It's about how you word the contract."

"Oh... okay, that checks. So... how'd you meet her majesty?"

"Well, after a number of midnight rendevo-.. I'm kidding your majesty. We had an unexpected meeting under unusual circumstances, and a deal was the only way to prevent being trapped somewhere annoying. That's all I am willing to say on the matter."

Lucifer's red eyes seemed to See something before he nodded to himself. "I can see the truth of what you're hiding, sinner. Are you in danger from my wife? Does she... punish disobedience like she used to with the hellborne staff?"

"...perhaps, but it is harder to reach across realms. So for the most part it is additional limitations or draining power from afar. Annoyances, at best, but at least my skin stays on."

"Listen, I don't like you... but Charlie does, and I know what she's going to ask me. I could do it... but I need to know why you and Charlie have a chain between you. I can see it plain as day." Lucifer asks, voice glacial.

"It's not-..." Charlie starts.

"It's for a Favour, so do unclench. She wanted Charlotte on a soulchain to control her indirectly, but... well, that didn't quite fit the definition of Protection, from my perspective. Unfortunate, that. But a Favour allowed someone to share information about angelic steel to another party without repercussions, so it was necessary."

"...if I find out you're lying, and I do this, I will be actively able to smite you. You know that, right?" Lucifer says, again, not a threat... just... stating a fact.

"Well, given I was willing to allow it earlier for the off chance it might break the deal or kill me, I would say go right ahead, Sire." Alastor shrugged, "But if you want a deal..."

"Nope. Now, bend over," everyone ignored Angel's gale of laughter, "so I can reach the stupid thing and shut your eyes. I mean everyone, of course."

The King does... something. A light almost brighter than the attempted smiting, smote-ening, smything? Who knows, burns through the room and the whole place vibrates as a metallic snap is heard.

Shadows zoom up the walls and across the floors, the room fills with symbols and radios crackle to full volume momentarily. It settles quickly. "Apologies, that was a lot of power rushing back at once, it was allow it to manifest, or explode."

"....I suppose I owe you thanks, your majesty." Alastor said, saying without saying the implicit thanks. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I believe that there's a rather pesky insect requiring extermination. Come along Husker, Angel... let's take the Void!"

Husk groans, but it's swallowed up by the sudden wave of shadows.

"Dad, can you clean up the salt? I don't want anyone else to get hurt." Charlie asked, "And... and then ould we go and talk somewhere? About mum? And the things she did? I think we need to..."

"Anything for you Charlie. You know that." Lucifer reassured, snapping away the mess.

As they left the kitchen, there was a tiny cry of despair from niffty, who had escaped her confinement too late to play in the Pain Snow.

-----------

Flaming debris rained down upon the few employees Angel had pointed out should probably go down with the ship, as the Studio burned. Husker helped tie the fuckers up.

Bits of Valentino rained down upon them all, as Alastor finished tearing the man to ribbons. Jazz and maniacal laughter filled the air.

A drone paused overhead and Alastor smiled into the camera. "Oh don't get jealous, picture box, you're next on the list!" he coos, and holds upValentino's head. "See you soon!"

The drone jerks away at speed.

Angel fumbles to catch the skull thrown his way, screams and drops it. "No, no thank you I don't need it on my wall, thanks..."

"Ah, a pity."

"Thanks for this... Boss." Angel grins, and feels mild relief to maifest a chain that wasn't pink for once. It disintegrates. "What?"

"You have your freedom, I can't and won't uphold the deal you had with the Moth, it's vile... but if you want a deal wherein I place you in charge of the other souls from the moth and you do what you will with their skills, consent and some funding... that's up to you."

"Whiskers?"

"I'd say read the fine print... but yeah, that sounds like a good deal to me. Any chance you'd let me go, boss?"

"You know, you've caught me in a good mood, why not?"

Husk's chain snaps too.

"Now, who wants to go to my room for a stiff-..." Angel grins, Alastor glares. "drink of some top notch whickey, and we shall renegotiate your potential contracts, hmm? We can come and kill the picture box and the doll another day. Ah, I'm sure dear Charlotte will be delighted to hear of your freedom, Angel! And yours, Husker!"

"Yeah, yeah, love ya too you emtionally repressed murder machine!" Angel grins, pulling the pair of Overlords towards him in an expected hug. Husk makes a confused mrrrp? and Alastor, he made a small Bleat.

Angel's eyes go ROUND in delight, looking at the pair. "Holy fuck, if I knew you guys came with sound effects like that I would've been squishing you into hugs far earlier, that's cute as hell. Like nuggsy-level adorrable..."

"husker, your man seems over-tired and clearly delusional. Do get him under control while I prepare a portal?"

Husk snorts. "You're on your own, Al, anyway I know you're fawn'd of us."

For that, he gets no warning as the floor turns to shadow void.

Husk and Angel would maintain it was worth it though.

Alastor pinches his nose, exhausted. "Ah, but the show must go on, hmmm? Let's see what happens once the curtain rises after such a lengthy... intermission."

His smile fade out last, as the overlord travels to the hotel with his hapless passengers. There were deals to make and Heaven to overthrow... no time to waste!

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

End

I had a vague idea and it spiralled, so tired.

[fili-urzudel]

Should You Wish (Thranduil x OC)

I'm not back! Just clearing out my drafts.

This was inspired by a piece of art I saw somewhere quite a while ago, where Thranduil went completely blind after the dragon's attack.

Summary: A servant has been serving the royals of the Greenwood for years. When the King loses his wife and his sight in a battle against a dragon on the borderlands, the whole kingdom is changed. The servant would quite like to help Thranduil achieve a sense of normalcy again; she's just not sure what that is for him.

Warnings: Brief descriptions of injury, permanent disability. Some fluff.

A hundred years was, in fact, a mere blink in the eyes of an elf. Ithronel knew. She had been serving the royal family for nearly two.

But the day the king stumbled back to Mirkwood on the arms of his compatriots, face stabilized with field medicine but still horrifically destroyed, eyes blank and cloudy, time slowed. It slowed as the elves waited for their queen to return, and she never did. It slowed as she, along with countless others, alternated between trying to help the healers and waiting shakily, anxiously for news of their dear king's health.

It slowed as he did not show his face for days that turned into weeks, despite the healer's assurances they had made him as well as he could be. It slowed as she was required to leave his food on a table, the room empty, and she was only allowed to clean his quarters one room at a time, always with him in a different chamber. It slowed as the king's throne sat, unused, and each day she and the other servants refused to let it collect even one particle of dust.

"Tell no one," the healer warned her in a low voice. "No one who needs not know shall, but the King... he has lost his sight. We could not repair it." Ithronel grimaced, not out of malice, but pity, which she knew the king would hate to feel directed at him. Still, losing one's sight was a great tragedy. Along with losing his love, she worried that he may not survive.

But survive he did, and he seemed rather anxious to prove it. Just twelve weeks later, or at least that is how long Ithronel assumed had passed, he began to try to return to his normal life. The throne was untouched, but he let himself be in the same rooms as his servants and advisors, conducting business in his consulting chambers.

Another few days, and Ithronel was allowed to clean his office space as he took his supper there. She entered quietly, before resolving to make enough noise that he would know she was there. "Your majesty," she announced her presence. "I am just here to tidy your office."

"Come in," he says in a flatly modulated tone. Not dejected, not disgusted. Simply emotionless.

She quickly got to work, kneeling under the desk to gather a dropped quill and a few sheets of paper.

"What is your name?" He asked, unprompted, and she nearly hit her head on the underside of the large desk.

She stood to address him, wanting to respect him even if he could not appreciate the gesture. "Ithronel, my king."

She had introduced herself to him many times before, but with so many servants and subjects, he had more important names to remember.

He gave a slight nod, saying nothing more.

Another few years, and she again found herself in the lone company of the king, cleaning his slightly-more-intimate-and-comfortable study. He sat in an armchair, staring at the fire. He had no other activity to occupy him, and Ithronel supposed he was deep in thought, perhaps considering more deeply the book he held in his hand.

She started at the bookshelves and worked her way down, before noticing that the curtains, made of velvet, needed replaced. "I will be right back, Your Majesty," she warned him before he heard the distinct clicks of a door opened and closed.

She took them down and replaced them with dust-free facsimiles one by one, aware of the way King Thranduil's head tilted just slightly each time he heard her step from her small stool back onto the ground.

She had scarcely finished folding the final curtain to be taken to the laundry when he spoke.

"Ithronel?" She froze. It was the first time the King has ever used her name. It sounded so... so meek, so humble. She was astounded that he must have guessed it was her purely by the sound of her voice.

"Yes, my king?"

"Could you please read this to me?" His voice was deathly quiet, embarrassed. "I cannot see it."

She walked closer, and she could see the way he tensed as he heard her footsteps approach. Perhaps he can see my shadow move as well, she pondered silently.

She gently took the book from him, their fingers brushing briefly. "A history book?"

"I thought... sometimes I imagine what they will say of me," Thranduil faltered. "I suppose it is comforting to know how objectively those stories are told."

Ithronel frowned. "Would you mind if I read you something else?"

Thranduil turned his head slightly, to the sound of her voice over his shoulder. "What did you have in mind?"

Ithronel tried to browse the shelves quickly, not wanting to make him impatient. "Ah!" she exclaimed suddenly, making him whip his head in her direction. "Sorry, I just thought of something. What about..." she rifled through her bag that sat by the door. "The Solstician Healer?"

"What is that?" Thranduil asked, only a bit derisively.

"It's a fictional story," Ithronel said carefully. "I don't want to give away too much, but it has a very nice message. It's a nice way to end the day, I think."

"You've read it before?"

"This is my fifth time," she admitted. "I read it first when I was only ninety."

"Don't you tire of it?"

"No," she responded easily. "I've read many other books, but the feeling this one gives me never goes away, no matter how many times I read it."

"Then I suppose it is a welcome diversion."

Thranduil's eyes drifted closed of their own accord, tired from not blinking and dry from the fire. And perhaps he liked the sound of Ithronel's voice. It was animated, more active than the voice either of his parents had ever used when speaking with him, but it was also gentle, blending perfectly with the crackles of the fireplace in front of him.

He heard footsteps moving, and only then did he realize she had stopped reading. He considered asking why. He then considered that perhaps she was tired, as tired as he, and though he was king, he had no right to demand of her to give up her rest for him.

He heard her come closer, and urged himself to continue looking... well, calm, he supposed. He felt a blanket spread across his shoulders, her fingers briefly brushing across his collarbone as she covered him. "Sleep well, my king," she whispered, her voice startlingly close.

"Thank you, I will try."

The words had her nearly jumping back. "I'm sorry, your majesty," she said, flustered. "I thought you were already asleep. I'll just, um, I'll be going now--"

"Will you come back? I would quite like to hear the next chapter." He had lost the plot already, but he was willing to try to catch up.

She hesitated for a long moment. "If you should wish it of me, of course I shall."

To dream of a fire and voice that did not belong to a dragon was most pleasant indeed.

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 42

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 700

Masterlist

———————————————————————

It was a Friday evening, and we were in a list meeting. The room buzzed with energy—ideas flowing, the weight of upcoming deadlines pressing on us. We were a month away from the elections, the final stretch, where every ounce of effort mattered. 

The polls had Lucy in the lead, but by a razor-thin margin of just 1.5%. Virtually nothing in a city of over 200,000 residents.

The past few weeks had been relentless: pounding the pavement, attending meetings, handing out flyers, trying to convince more and more people. All this while continuing my job at the office, squeezing every free moment into the campaign. It was exhausting, no doubt.

“You’re doing 45-hour days! Slow down—I want you to see your goddaughter grow up!” Alexia teased, though I could tell she was genuinely concerned. She thought, and not entirely wrongly, that while I enjoyed campaigning, I had thrown myself into it recklessly because of Lucy. She worried about where it all might lead.

“Don’t worry, Alexia, I’ve got this! And look, at least I’m smoking less!” I reassured her with a smile.

In the past weeks, I had occasionally run into Lucy’s campaign team while flyering, but never Lucy herself—only her face on those enormous election posters plastered all over the city. It was tough seeing those piercing blue eyes multiple times a day. Painful, even. I still thought about her a lot, a mix of resentment and disappointment. 

That Sunday morning, I was at the city square market, mingling with voters alongside Philippe and another teammate. It was the day after Philippe’s big rally, which had drawn a packed crowd.

Then I saw her—Lucy. Walking towards us, flanked by two of her people. Lucy, in midnight blue pants and a white blouse that accentuated her striking eyes. 

Avoiding her was impossible; there was no escape. My heart pounded. I hadn’t seen her since that last time. My hands turned clammy. Stay in control. 

When she spotted me, her smile froze. As often happens in politics, we had to pretend. Lucy and Philippe despised each other, but there was no way they could cross paths at a market, in front of voters and a few journalists, without exchanging pleasantries. Lucy excelled at this, forcing a smile and feigning friendliness. 

She ignored me completely—except for a single, frosty glance to acknowledge me. It was colder than ice. 

Feeling deeply uneasy, I excused myself and headed to the nearby public restrooms.

Inside, I tried to collect my breath and thoughts. 

Suddenly, someone burst in, locking the door behind them.

It was Lucy, standing less than two meters away. She had followed me. Her gaze was anything but friendly.

“What the—” 

She cut me off. 

“You’re such a bitch, Ona! You want to play this game? Make me look like a liar?” 

I stammered, unable to find words.

“Why are you saying this to me?” 

She was seething.

“I heard about last night’s rally—specifically that idiot’s attack on the airport expansion project!” 

I realized where this was going. She was referring to a campaign promise she’d made about expanding the airport. When we were together, we had often discussed politics, and she’d confided in me about the project’s challenges. There were expert reports that questioned its feasibility, and the state was resistant to its high cost. It wasn’t dead, but it was shaky. Yet it remained a key plank in her platform. 

Philippe, staunchly against it for environmental reasons, had discussed it with me. I had, perhaps carelessly, mentioned the possibility that it might not happen. He’d done his own digging and unearthed those reports. 

He had used this in his speech, leaving Lucy in a tight spot.

“I’m sure you’re the one who told him all that!” 

Lucy could barely contain her fury. 

“He’s a journalist, Lucy—he dug it up on his own!”

Her eyes blazed.

“I swear, Ona, you shouldn’t have gotten involved… See you in a week.”

She stormed out, furious. 

I struggled to breathe, shaken by the sheer intensity of her reaction. 

In a week, I’d see her again—this time for the first of the major public debates between the candidates.

What kind of game had I gotten myself into? 

[mothgodofchaos]

Stupid

Wrote this on a whim, had an idea and had to get it out.

Darkiplier x GN!Reader, TW: none Words: 1130

You were stranded out in the rain by your date with no way of getting home, and against your better judgment, you called Dark. Shame burned inside you, not wanting to admit that you were relying on an ex-partner after failing to get a new one. But you had no other way of getting home, and the streets were far too dark and slick for you to even consider walking. You texted him the address after he hung up, going back into the restaurant as the winds continued to storm, threatening to soak you to the bone with chill rain. The poor host boy ran to get you a warm drink as you waited in their lobby, seeing you shiver. It was incredibly sweet, and you passed him what little cash you had on you for the gesture. 

Dark pulls up in front of the restaurant, and you sprint out to his car, clutching the to-go cup close to you under your coat as you clamber into the passenger seat. At the sight of you, he turns up the heat and puts on the seat warmer, incredibly concerned.

“What on earth happened?”

“He walked out on me… said he was going to the bathroom. Was I, stupid for believing him? We had only just ordered, but I knew he wasn’t coming back when they only brought out my food. And I stupidly agreed to let him drive me here.”

“No, I would not say that was “stupid” of you. Sounds like the issue was him, not you. The drive over here and ordering food is not nearly enough time for someone to make that drastic of a decision. At least he should have had the decency to tell you to find an alternative way home…”

Dark grips the steering wheel a bit tighter as he speaks, trying to both calm you down and keep his eyes on the road. The street lights reflect off large puddles on the asphalt, splashing onto the sidewalk as your tires cut through them.

“I’m sorry I called you, I’m sure you were busy.”

“Not at all, you know how I enjoy spending my evenings. Simply a few chapters into a book and about halfway through a cup of tea when you called. Something I can very easily pick back up. And I am sure you know, if I had found out you had to walk home in this weather, your inconsiderate date would have perhaps lost a few fingers, or limbs…”

It makes you laugh a little bit, the shaking from the cold finally settling. You pick up your drink, making careful two-handed sips as you don’t quite trust your grip strength after the cold made your finger joints a tad useless. The heat is turned down, making it easier to hear the rain outside and the tires against the road. Watching water droplets race down the window like when you were little. Dark glances over at you when you go quiet, his gaze softening when he sees you smile again.

“What happened to us?”

Your question cuts the silence, startling Dark a little. He waits, working through his thoughts to form a coherent response.

“We were younger, we wanted different things. No one was at fault, and I think that made it hurt more…”

“I don’t think we want different things anymore, Dames.”

His breath hitches, having not heard you call him that since your amicable break up.

“Are you done having your adventures out there? Are you really sure I am exciting enough for you?”

“You were always exciting enough for me. I was hoping you’d come with me.”

“...I am truly sorry I could not.”

The silence surrounds the two of you again, Dark adjusting his grip on the steering wheel as he focuses on the road again. You take the hint and go back to watching out the windows, the conversation not going quite as you had hoped. Maybe it was your broken heart trying to fill the void of tonight’s wound, maybe you were saying the things you wanted to for a long time. He pulls into your driveway, parking the car and taking out the keys.

“I will walk you to the door, I refuse to have you standing out in the rain, locked out.”

“Thank you, Dark.”

His larger frame blocks your back from the rain, despite the fact he’s not wearing a coat. The simple white button-down soaks in the water easily, plastering the wet fabric against his body. His tie is loosened, but clearly he never quite got undressed from his day out before heading to get you. It takes a bit of working, but your key unlocks your door and you push inside. You enter, shrugging off your coat as you turn back to Dark, him smiling softly at you.

“Would you like to come in?”

“No, I should not. But thank you, darling.”

He turns to walk back to his car, but you grab his hand. Dark turns back to you, confused.

“Something wrong?”

“Can we try again? Even if it’s just one time?”

His jaw clenches, and you can see the conflicting emotions behind his eyes. Water drips down his hair and down his face, closing his eyes as he lets out a long sigh.

“I should not. But I want to. You have always been my greatest temptation.”

“Why don’t we then?”

Dark looks away, a lone tear mixing with the raindrops on his cheeks.

“I am afraid you will leave me behind again… that I cannot be the man you want me to be. I am older now, I use a cane, my habits are those of an old man. I know this. And I do not want you to realize this a bit too late, and break my heart again…”

“I was stupid to leave you behind before. And I’m not just saying that. Leaving you here has been my biggest regret. I promise you that.”

Dark looks between your eyes, searching your mind and seeing you’re telling the truth. You know he doesn’t like to intrude, but you don’t blame his disbelief.

“Please, let me know if you get bored of me…”

“I will never get bored of you.”

You grab his tie, tugging him down into a kiss. He’s surprised for a moment at your bold move, but matches your energy as he cups your face. The two of you stand out in the rain on your front porch, soaked to the bone but you could not be happier with each other. When you part, you tug him inside, promising another book and more tea as your clothes dry together. And you’d never have gotten him back if that asshole had never left you at that restaurant. 

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's origin✨ || bts • kth - chapter 0.5

"you're afraid I won't wait." "I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

19th October

Buenos Aires, Argentina

Taehyung watched Jimin return to their hide-out with evident disappointment settled across his face. Another indicator being the deep sigh which followed right as he closed the door behind himself.

He perked a suspicious eyebrow at Jimin, exchanging a glance with Yoongi then who was sitting across from him and sharpening his sword. "What happened?"

Jimin plopped next to him, sulking deeply. "Guess Bella won't help us out."

"I'll pretend being shocked," Yoongi snickered under his breath, only earning an annoyed glance from the younger one before he fell back into sulking.

Taehyung only rolled his eyes out of Jimin's sight and cleared his throat then. Trying to set the right tone to cover the fact he wholeheartedly agreed with Yoongi's sarcastic stance.

Why would Arabella Valentine help them out if it didn't benefit her?

That wasn't her style.

"Did she say why?"

"Yeah.." Jimin shifted in his seat, running his fingers through his light brown hair, "She prefers going after a rich heir in Cyprus." Mild jealously flickered through his features and Taehyung could tell but chose not to mention.

"Seriously, why are you so whipped for this woman?" he eventually wondered out, "She's manipulative and you can't trust her. I don't get it."

"Plus, she's screwed us over countless times.." Yoongi added with a mumble. Both now looking at him expectedly.

Pursing his plum lips, the thief in question fumbled with his fingers for the right words. "Well, first of all sh-"

"Don't you dare say 'she's hot'," Taehyung quickly countered, shooting him a serious glare to which Jimin only chuckled bashfully.

"Well, she is, but that isn't the main reason.." 

The anew sigh leaving his lips filled with awe and admiration this time, gaze wandering out the window into the sunlit capital of Argentina. A dreamy look on his eyes with possible hearts if he was a cartoon character, Taehyung was sure.

"You guys wouldn't get it.. I like that she's so sneaky and always keeps me on my toes. She's dangerous and mesmerising. She's.. she's simply one of a kind," he eventually settled.

And perhaps they really didn't get it because all they were able to see in her was a competitor, another thief who might occasionally help them out. But only for a price - which was usually betraying them with all the loot.

"It's kinda cute though. He's the literal definition of fool in love," Yoongi plainly stated then, trying keeping a straight face although they could see the ghost of a smile on his lips. His tease pulling Jimin out of his little daydream.

"Anyway," the master thief said then, dismissing his older friend's comment, "That means we need someone else to get us in there."

"We don't know any other female professionals though."

"At least, not personally."

All three fell into deep thoughts.

This wasn't good. They needed a woman to pull off this coup. Only women were invited to the embassandor's gala as it was specifically to celebrate female achievements. It was their only chance to get in the embassy.

- Well, not the only one, but surely the easiest one. Two would sneak in as staff members and the third one had to be among the guests. To keep an eye on the embassandor and the ball hall while the other two were breaking into the office room. And to be one of the guests he'd need to be the cavalier of a lady.

"The party's in a week, we need to come up with something. We're running out of time."

"Why did you only ask her now, if we knew beforehand-"

"I was sure Bella would be in.."

The oldest one shrugged, putting his katana aside. "Maybe we should just cancel it and instead go for a different coup."

At this, Jimin shot Yoongi an irritated glare before laughing out. "You're giving up too easily! I'm sure we'll fi-" Pausing himself mid-sentence, he faced Taehyung then who gulped at the mischieviously wide grin on his lips. "Say, what about your doctor fri-"

Before he could even complete, Taehyung already cut him off with a harsh glare. "No, forget it."

Jimin whined. "Why?"

Dumbfounded at the new level of idiocy his best friend had reached, the gunman exhaled with a huff. "Are you seriously asking? She's a civilist. I'm not getting her involved in this and besides, I doubt she even got time."

"How do you know, you haven't asked her?"

"She's an assistant physician in her second year, she's just working non-stop."

"Then a reason more for her to get out of the daily grid!" Jimin exclaimed, thrilled about his brilliant idea, "And didn't you say she's always curious about our work and finds it exciting? Yes, just imagine how thankful she'd be!"

Taehyung, however, was less and less inclined to the nonsense idea of getting Cassandra involved in this. He always tried his best to keep their friendship seperated from the rest of his life - or at least as seperate as possible. And he grew frustrated with Jimin's irrational enthusiasm.

"You can't be serious, this is way too dangerous for an outsider. What if something goes wrong?"

"Taehyung's right," Yoongi, who had been silently listening to their argument, eventually intervened, "She's completely unexperienced. We can't effort it."

"Guys, you're such naysayers!" Jimin groaned then, throwing his hands dramatically in the air, "This coup we'll be like walking into a candyshop, nice and easy. She won't need to do anything but look pretty and mingle with the other guests. That's it. She won't be anywhere near the action where we -" His finger wiggled between himself and Yoongi. "- would be."

"Wait, you and Yoongi are breaking in?"

He smirked. "Of course, since she's your friend you're gonna be her escort."

Taehyung became pale, all colour drained from his face. He and Cassandra in fancy attire in the middle of a ballroom? The thought making him swallow with an irrational flush colourings his cheeks.

"I mean.. putting it like this.." Yoongi mused with a small smile, earning a side-eye from Taehyung.

"You're seriously changing your mind on me now?"

The swordsman shrugged, sliding his katana back into its shealth as he had finished the sharpening, being content with his work. "I didn't think about the fact that she'd indeed not be directly involved in the heist. Her only role would be to get the third one - you - inside. That's it."

"Unbelievable," Taehyung dragged out a breath, shaking his head. 

He didn't like admitting it, but they had a point. Still a pretty dumb point, in his opinion, but nevertheless, a point. If they wanted to go through with the plan, the young physician was their only option in the moment. At least until he could come up with a better one. And he would try his best to do so.

"You guys really mean it, huh?"

"Look, Tae, I get it," Jimin said then, grabbing his shoulder with a sympathetic smile, "It's not like I'm keen about getting an outsider involved either, but she's our only option right now. And I wouldn't suggest it if I believed she could get in actual danger. You know me, I'd never endanger anyone on purpose. Especially not a pretty woman."

Of course Taehyung knew that. He knew Jimin for half of his life by now, he knew he wasn't reckless or mindless towards others. Only towards himself. And his look of appeal made Taehyung eventually sigh in defeat, nodding.

"Maybe she won't agree anyway," Yoongi argued then with raised brows. Partially in an attempt to calm Taehyung's mind. "What then?"

But Taehyung could only laugh out dryly at this. Already knowing her answer.

»»»

21st October

Barcelona, Spain

Cassandra's eyes widened while alternating between Jimin, Yoongi and Taehyung, the latter one standing in the background with crossed arms and an annoyed scowl.

"Me?" She pointed at herself, still processing and not believing their surreal proposal.

When she had left the hospital after an early shift, the only thing she'd expected to find at home was her left-over food and the rest of a tv show which had been left in the middle - wishing her hospital life would've been just half as entertaining as in the show.

She hadn't expected, however, to find Taehyung and his friends waiting for her in front of her entrance door.

Now thinking about it, considering they were thieves and could break into anything they wanted, it was quite nice of them respecting her enough not to break into her apartment and instead wait outside.

"Cassandra, Cas," Jimin sighed in pity ploy, engulfing her hands in both of his. Taehyung only rolling his eyes in the back at the sight of his friend working his usual charms. "We wouldn't ask you if we weren't desperate. I swear, we wouldn't let you get in any danger. You just need to enter from the main entrance, have a good time at the gala and then leave again from the main entrance. That's all."

She blinked again, feeling her heart-beat picking up in excitement.

Was she even allowed to get excited? Shouldn't she be panicked and call them crazy?

She should, but for some insane reason she wasn't. She was indeed considering this.

"Just for the record, I was against this idea," Taehyung barked in, "Seriously, feel free to say no."

"Don't influence her!" Jimin's head snapped back. Making Taehyung scoff and look away again.

Cassandra took a moment to think about it. Although she was certain her answer was already set, she still tried staying objective and weighing out all factors.

"If I do it.. you'll keep me safe, right?" She timidly peeked up, seeing a smile spreading on Jimin's features.

"Of course! Well, not me directly.." His head returning to Taehyung with a smirk, "But Taehyunghie will. Considering he's unrivaled with his gun and good in combat, you'll be in good hands."

She smiled, knowing all that very well.

Her brown irises wandering to her friend who was about to protest again, but instead folded his lips when meeting her warm stare.

He already knew her answer anyway. That was why he was so against it in the first place. She might've not been naive enough to mistake her films for reality, but the way Jimin set it, it sounded exciting and risk free. Besides, she was someone who always helped others and only a blind person wouldn't see how much in need they were of her right now. Jimin had practically thrown himself to her feet after all. 

So he sighed, giving her an affirming nod. "I'll protect you, Cas."

She smiled gently. "I know."

If she didn't trust Taehyung, she wouldn't have even considered it.

Content with his sincere answer, she faced Jimin again. "I'll do it."

"Great!" he cheered and jumped onto his feet, pulling her with him before engulfing her into a tight hug. Making Cassandra laugh out as she hugged him back startled.

They must've been indeed quite desperate, she concluded.

"Y-you said it's next friday though. And where?"

"In Budepast at the French embassy," Yoongi, who hadn't tried persuading nor hindering her from participating, but instead had stayed pretty neutral next to Taehyung, said.

He'd been taking a look around her apartment instead. Small eyes growing round when seeing the film posters Taehyung had mentioned to them.

"You can travel around Europe freely, right?"

She hummed in affirmation.

She had always wanted to see Budapest anyway so that wouldn't be an inconvenience. However, she recalled her schedule.

"I'll need to pull in some favours and switch shifts then.."

Taehyung instantly straightened at this. "If that'll be a problem, we're gonna look for someo-"

"No, no, I'll do it. Don't worry," she giggled, seeing him shut his mouth and going back to sulking.

In all honestly, she felt quite flattered by his concerns. But she trusted their word that it wouldn't get dangerous for her. 

And a fancy gala at an embassy? Who would say no to that? It'd be the first time she ever attended something like this. 

Her smile dropped at this realisation. Now, this was actually concerning.

"It's gonna be so fancy.. " she mumbled. Chewing on her lips.

She didn't have any fancy clothes. Of course not, why would she? She had a few good clothes for special occasions and celebrations, but in no way would they be enough for an embassador's gala. She'd need to buy something, but did she even have money for a suitable dress for such an event?

She started mildly hyperventilating.

"Hey, hey, don't worry. Just wear a nice dress. It doesn't have to be some expensive designer piece, no one will tell," Jimin ensured her, patting her shoulder with a cheerful smile, "It's not the Milan fashion show. The people at the gala won't be able to tell the difference."

"Okay," she nodded when another question popped up in her mind. "But how will I even be allowed to enter? I don't have an invitation after all.."

At this the three thieves only exchanged a glance before their lips tucked into cheeky grins.

"Please, that's a piece of cake. Don't let that trouble you." Jimin winked.

»»»

26th October

Budapest, Hungary

It was 8 o'clock on the dot when Cassandra stepped out of the elevator that evening. It'd been awhile since she'd spent a night at a hotel and it felt odd.

The only good thing was that it was a rather small vintage one, meaning no cameras inside and not many guests as she made her way out of the old but well-preserved building. The reception at the foyer was currently empty, facilitating her departure. And she remembered to turn her face away from the camera at the entrace. Just like the guys' had instructed her. It was one out of only two, the other one being at the back entrance that led to the backyard.

Even if it wasn't their main intention to save her from embarrassment when choosing that hotel for her - the practical reasons being it not having much security and its suitable location - it saved her from nosey people wondering where she was heading to in such a fancy look. She had already felt insure enough, not being used to wearing anything but scrubs or normal clothes. She didn't need employees or guests' talking while walking around in a floor-long dress, heaving the fabric with her fists not to step onto it.

Cassandra knew there was no going back now that she had already exited the building. And she wondered if Taehyung would be there as settled.

The last contact had been back in Barcelona, when they'd given her location and pick-up time, keeping the risk of leaving traces as small as possible.

For all people knew, she was a mere tourist. Which she was, in a way. At least she'd passed the past two days by wandering around the city to all the touristy spots, making the most out of her trip there and acting unsuspicious.

Much to her relief she spotted Taehyung waiting at the end of the street. He was leaned against a black limousine with tinted windows, not having noticed her yet as he was too preoccupied with texting the others on a burner phone to see the startled expression on Cassandra's made-up eyes. 

His dark brown hair was combed back with the side parted, except for a rebellish curl that was falling on his forehead while he was hunching. The black tuxedo he wore perfectly underlining his tall and sturdy stature. Its suit jacket left unbuttoned and hanging losely over the black dress shirt he was wearing underneath it, adorned by an equally pitch-black neck tie.

Describing his appearance as 'handsome' felt like the understatement of the year. She needed a stronger word than that to express her exact thoughts in that moment. 

Of course she always thought of him as a good-looking guy with an enchanting smile, from the very first glance she'd laid on him. She wasn't blind after all. However, seeing him in such a fancy attire for the first time left her breathless. Just like that very night many years ago when their eyes had met for the first time. 

Usually she only saw him in casual fits. Loose shirts, wide trousers or big hoodies. Like a normal guy. However, she'd use anything but 'normal' for him right now.

Taehyung looked like straight out of a runway or no - a film! A spy movie!

Like a real-life James Bond.

And that realisation made a hot rush run through Cassandra's veins.

She inhaled sharply, about to move when his head perked up as if he had heard her screaming thoughts and their irises met. Both staring at each other, perplexed.

His lips parted, unintentionally allowing his eyes to wander over her dress all the way down and then up again.

Cassandra was standing there, a vision in dark vibrant green. Embroidered leaves and flowers covering her torso, flowing from her waist sporadically down the tulle fabric. Glistening faintly under the streetlamps, like an emerald. Contrasting her silky-shining coppery curls cascading over her shoulders.

First he hadn't been sure if it was really her or a mythological forest nymph, having lost her way to the magic world and instead found her way there to him.

But soon he realised that it was indeed Cassandra. And that he was holding his breath.

"Hey, cool guy," she eventually breathed out. Interrupting their little staring contest.

He swallowed, forcing his lips to move into a casual smile. "Hey, Doc."

With uncertain steps, she walked up to him and he pushed himself off the car. Holding the passenger door open for her.

"You.. you look.." He was flustered, to say the least. His mind on overdrive as he tried not to turn awkward, but he feared he was doing just that by stuttering and blushing. She looked even more stunning from up-close. Finally, he managed clearing his throat. "You might get a cold."

With a small laugh, she looked away and folded her arms in front of her décoleté. It was warm enough during the day, but now that the sun was setting, a coolish breeze was indeed picking up which the thin straps of her dress surely wouldn't shield her from. Especially not as her back was completely open, aside from the straps crossing and forming a bow on its lower half - which had taken her a solid ten minutes to tie on her own.

Taehyung catching that detail as well, looking away shyly. And Cassandra's insecurity only grew, misinterpreting his behaviour. 

She started seriously regretting all her choices in this moment. Back then she'd thought that if this was her only chance to wear a beautiful long dress, then so be it!.

- Why didn't she go for a simplier dress? Preferably in an ordinary colour like black or creme with long sleeves and maybe even a turtleneck, if dresses with turtlenecks even existed.

She feared making a fool of herself again.

"Uhm, no it's okay. I'll survive, don't worry. I didn't have anything suitable to wear on top and didn't want to show up in a random jacket.." she mumbled. About to enter the car when she felt something being slid over her shoulders, causing her to still. And she saw his suit jacket laying on them.

Her lips parted, her cheeks chrimson red by now. She held the collar together with one hand.

"Thank you," she quietly said, seeing him only offering her a quick nod before they bothed entered the parked limousine.

The French embassy was in the city centre, close to Danube's bank. An upmarket part with lots of cultural sights. Meaning the traffic would keep them from arriving there fast.

They remained silent for most of the drive, both unusually tense. Only stealing glances at the other when thinking they wouldn't notice.

"We can still turn back. I can return you to the hotel," Taehyung offered, glancing at her hopefully before redirecting his focus onto the road in front of them.

They were almost there, he could already spot the long line of expensive vehicles lining up to enter or depose guests.

"Again, don't feel obligated. You don't have to do this. I'll find another way to get in."

The young woman shook her head though, the grip she had onto his blazer to keep it from sliding off, tightening.

"No, I'm okay." And she was. Slightly nervous, yes, but also incredibly excited. "And besides, I got my lucky charm."

His brows knitted at her, seeing a toothy grin on her features and a small teddy bear dangling from her fingers next to it.

"Isn't it cute?"

He couldn't help but chuckle. Somehow he wasn't surprised she was  into superstition or at least lucky charms. And her beaming face was  adorable.

"Very cute actually."

"I know it's ridiculous," she sighed then with a coy smile as she looked down to the teddy bear in her folded hands, "And I don't really believe in superstition. But I figured, it wouldn't harm."

Shaking his head, he tugged at the golden necklace underneath his collar. "What do you think this is?"

Her eyes widened. "So it's also your lucky charm?"

He shrugged. "So far I always had luck, so it could be this. I always wear it after all." He tucked it back in as memories surged his mind. He tilted his head at her with a smirk then. "So it must bring me some luck. Don't you think?"

Cassandra smiled at him with a fond look, knowing how much it meant to him. And it was nice catching a new glimpse of his life from behind the curtains of his usual secrecy. She enjoyed collecting all those pieces of random information about him.

"By the way," she said then, stuffing the small stuffed animal back into her purse, "I got your postcard a few days ago. The one from New Delhi."

"Huh, you only got it now?" he huffed with a raised brow, "I was there a month ago."

"Well, it's quite far away, on the other side of the globe.. Was it fun there?"

"Curious as always.." He grinned, amusement in his eyes as he peeked at her. "But yeah, it was. Also far too warm though."

Cassandra giggled at his whining, remembering he didn't do well in temperatures over 25°C. Would explain why he was walking around with a thin coat in winter.

"Maybe next time don't do a heist in a hot subcontinent."

"It wasn't a heist," he plainly stated. Knowing far too well that would only intrigue her more. And indeed, she leaned over with curious eyes. Her eye make-up intenser now for the gala than her usual one, making her doe eyes appearing even bigger than usual. "No? What else did you do there?"

He simply shrugged with a cocky smirk, remaining quiet which he knew would drive her mad.

"Don't be so annonying," she groaned and puffed her cheeks in a childish manner, "You mentioned it, now you gotta tell me."

"Oh, do I?"

"Of course."

"Let's say we were on a little treasure hunt."

Her eyes grew even rounder. "Treasure hunt? Like Indiana Jones or something?"

"Or something."

And he bit back a laugh when hearing her scofd.

Taehyung entered an side-street behind the embassy then, deciding it'd be better to park there for an easier escape later.

He unbuckled his seatbelt then and got out. Walking around to help her out of the car by offering her his angled arm, which Cassandra gladly accepted by hooking hers around his elbow. Making their way towards the embassy.

Another uncommon thing for her, stilettos. She usually didn't wear anything that was higher than two centimetres and even then it was usually boots or sneakers. She just hoped her walk wasn't as wobbly as her legs felt in that moment.

It only now really downed to her that this was really happening and anxiety made a surprise appearance after all.

"Remember what I told you? About the cameras?"

She nodded at his question, recalling his and the guys' little prep talk. She'd taken notes. "One left at the gate, two left in the courtyard, one right at the entrance and one over the staircase. And another two in the ballroom, at the side of the stage."

His lips tucked into a lopsided smile. He was impressed. "Good girl."

The praise caused Cassandra's lips to press together, feeling her cheecks blushing along. She never knew words of affirmation could've such an affect on her. 

However, she also felt quite proud of herself. She'd done her best to memorise everything after all, not wanting to screw it up.

She had to turn her head away from them in case something went wrong and Jimin wasn't able to loop the security footage. It was a worst case scenario, but they had to be prepared for everything. And Taehyung surely didn't want risking her getting recognised on any footage.

Turning a corner, the embassy's aristocratic building came into full focus then. It was in a long row building which covered the whole block. Tall, rounded glass windows on the ground level, above them a terrace on the first level. The entrace was two tall rounded gates adorned with ornatements of metal. Between the two gates, a plaque that said 'Francia Köztársaság Nagykövetsége'.

- Overall, it looked indeed like a building where only the french would have their embassy in.

Taehyung pressed his in-ear monitor then to activate it. "Guys, we're about to enter."

"Cameras all set," Jimin answered from inside the building, "Have fun!" And Taehyung could hear the smirk in his friend's voice. Mumbling a quick 'thanks' before turning to Cassandra, catching her staring at the building with the line of well-dressed important people behind security guards.

Her steps slowed until she caused them both to stop, Taehyung giving her a questioning glance. "Just say the word and I'm driving you back," he whispered as he covered her hand that was wrapped around his arm. Giving her a soothing smile, only earning a wary one from her.

"I.. I just feel a little silly in this outfit, you know? I'm not used to anything but my normal clothes and.. I'm afraid I'm not fitting in. People might already be staring at me." She was looking around as paranoia briefly took over her while they passed by the iron gates. Perhaps she was only searching for excuses.

Her words made him frown as he also looked around, not noticing anyone looking funny at her. And he should, if it was the case, he was trained in observing people.

"Cas, calm down. You don't look out of place at all, you look.." His voice suddenly got caught in his throat as she her glance returned to him, looking expectantly at him. And the way the streetlights gleamed in her chestnut-coloured eyes made his mind blank out for a moment. He stuttered. "You look.. fitting."

Cassandra arched a brow at him, cocking her head. "Fitting?" She giggled, dumbfounded. It was so random, it genuinely distracted her from her worries. "Thanks, I take that." 

She took out the invitation and the fake ID Jimin had sent her way then. And Taehyung was astonished how naturally she looked while passing both to the security guard. If she was nervous - which he knew she must've been - he couldn't tell. The guards passed her the documents back and they entered. Going through the metal detectors and towards the corridor to the courtyard then.

The courtyard wasn't too big, or at least the numerous people in their gowns and tuxedos made it appear smaller. The building's facade was just as cream white there as outside from the street. A big french flag lazily waving in the night air over one of the side entrances, which was covered by a curved construction out of glass with everyone lining up in front to enter.

Cassandra put on a serious face again and closed her eyes. Taking in a deep breath. "I'm better than everyone else. I'm better than everyone else. I'm -"

"What?" His brows furrowed in confusion at her weird mantra.

"Getting mentally into my role. Can't look like a misfit among all those snobby people," she explained with a grin and Taehyung let out a genuine laugh.

This woman surely was full of surprised.

He nodded in approval before tucking her towards the entrance.

"Smart. Come, let's go inside."  

»»»

TO BE CONTINUED IN THE NEXT CHAPTER!

next chapter: 0.6 here

Don't forget to like, comment & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

taglist: @lilanyxta @naoolammao345 @memna234 @tetehion @myblacklilame @nanakamami @sweetmimosa28

[wintersettled]

Ongoing Batfam recs

disclaimer! this is being written primarily off the top of my head so don't expect insane quality! also I'm aware a lot of people aren't sure where to start or what's current -- for that I recommend looking through reading guides but I thought I'd talk a bit about current ongoing batfam comics I'm aware of. To read these you could go to your local comic store, use the DC Infinite app or do what I often do and use alternative sites to read comics, many of which can be found by searching "where to read comics free reddit" via your internet browser.

not all batfam characters are currently appearing very much in comics so I'm afraid there will be a distinct lack of many favourites such as Tim Drake, Helena Bertinelli, Stephanie Brown, Jason Todd, and Jean-Paul Valley, however it should be noted that in Batman: The Brave and the Bold there is always a chance that an issue will feature one of them. This series features 60 pages containing multiple short stories which vary in length, some occurring across multiple issues. While it is labeled "batman" it regularly features characters outside of the batfamily.

I'd also like to not that due to DC's All-In there are many new authors and storylines starting up so most are barely any issues in! These are really just early on thoughts BUT it's a great time to start reading!

Regarding Bruce Wayne himself, Batman is currently (as usual) appearing in two new all-in arcs in both Detective Comics and Batman (2016). Can I say I like either? No! It is a long established fact that I am most definitely not Taylor's biggest fan and him deciding to rehash already done and in fact tired storylines as well as making minor adjustments to origins is no surprise nor do I care -- still I'll be fair and tell you that the story involves, you guessed it, the no-killing rule woah! Something so deftly written you can spot the killer from the first couple pages except this time the issue ends off with perhaps one of the most ridiculous and bad plot twists I've ever seen... enough hating on that. Now with the Batman series itself, I fear I dropped it ages ago. I'm understanding there's some conflict regarding the return of previous characters but following Gotham War I struggle to car about this run and I'll admit so far what I've heard from those who have read the recent series is mediocre at best.. still I recommend checking it out for yourself seeing as I can't actually speak on it.

Nightwing aka Richard Grayson is having a seemingly better time. With the introduction of Dan Watters as the new writer we're getting a new Nightwing (2016) story that I am feeling really positive about! I fully recommend checking this one out, just going off the first issue it looks good and I have spent the last month yearning for more! Titans (2023), however, I'm a bit more sceptical of... I'm liking the change in dynamics (always love a Roy feature and Donna leading) which see different characters taking the forefront of the team. I'm not a big fan of Beast Boy nor his dynamic with Raven so it may not be the best but I think the Titans are a super important part of Dick's story so I'll say if you're not keen on this, maybe run it back and pick up The New Teen Titans (1980) which is the start of the team and even sees Dick become Nightwing!

A new writer has finally joined up on Catwoman (2018) and let me say that I loved that first issue. Someone is trying to kill Catwoman and all of her previous identities. We hearken back to her international thievery and what a huge scale Selina Kyle was once on! I'm very excited to see her travel as the story progresses!

Damian Wayne continues as a main character on Batman & Robin (2023) which I am not caught up to so I can't comment on the story but at least in the past it's had its moments! I can't say I've always been totally into the portrayal of Talia however this series has in the past emphasized Damian's relationships with his father as well has others like Nika aka Flatline!

Both Barbara Gordon and Cassandra Cain have been appearing in Birds of Prey (2023)! I enjoy the series but I will admit I feel like it's still finding its footing and I loath the occasional portrayal of Barbara as Batgirl -- something I feel is actively harming the quality of the story. Most of the time she is portrayed as Oracle, and while her wheelchair has yet to make a comeback, I'm hoping somebody explodes the dark spirit of Dan Didio from that office so ableism and misogyny can finally die a cold and lonely death in their buildings janitorial closet. Anyways! Cass has also been appearing in her new solo Batgirl (2024)!! This is so exciting! If you don't know Batgirl (2000) is possibly one of the best things ever written in history and every one should read it so I'm so excited to see her back! This first arc seems to focus a lot on the dynamic with Lady Shiva, Batgirl's mother. While the first issue was more set up for the rest, I cannot wait!

outside of elseworlds I'd say that about wraps things up for current batfam! pick one up, I'd love to chat about it!

[modernmessydisaster]

Pre-Arcane S2 Act 2 Thoughts

With hours away until it drops, gonna list all my predictions & wishes. Hopefully, I get at least one or two right.

Ep 4, Obviously, a Jinx centered episode. But it's more so the effects of what Jinx did in Ep 3. The people of Zaun rallying behind her, wearing her colors & fighting back.

Jinx has been absent since the attack, probably watching after Vi and trying to figure out where she goes from here. How to finish herself off or something similar :(

It isn't until Sevika convinces her, especially finding out Isha got arrested & taken to Stillwater with the rest of her "followers". That Jinx finally takes up the role she's been given by Zaun, their hero.

Probably other parts of the episode, back n forth. How Cait is doing as Commander, the people of Piltover looking to her as guidance. Strict curfews, large number of enforcers & noxus soldiers patrolling. The once shiny Piltover looks empty of life and dreary. Muted, darker colors. Maybe at some points, Cait sees reason and slowly letting go of her anger/grief BUT Ambessa stops that and fuels Cait's vengeance again.

Leading to the mass arrest of Jinx's followers, probably calling Jinx a hero sent Cait over the edge a bit without Ambessa in her ear. Either way, Jinx comes and saves them. It's a whole big show! Which in the eyes of Piltover, a huge failure on Cait. Which probably shakes their trust in her, until Ambessa smooths it over. By declaring that an army of enforcers & noxus soldiers will march down into Zaun and finally bring it's people to justice. Maybe this is the start of Cait realizing she's wrong, Ambessa is using her, but it's too late.

Her mother & Vi's words haunt her now, at the choices she's made.

□□□

Ep 5, hmmm I wanna say a Vi centered episode. What she was doing in the timeskip. Underground fighting, her trauma & grief. Girl is going through it. Maybe we will see flashbacks to her time with Vander & her parents.

Honestly, don't know where this episode would go. Maybe more hints & build up of Viktor's cult in the background. Some Zaun people hating her for being an ex-Enforcer and her part in unleashing the Grey. I wanna say this is the episode where the Warwick/Vander fight happens. Perhaps this episode near the end lines up with Ep 4, timeline wise.

As in Vi, fighting for Zaun again. Going to help the breakout at Stillwater. Probably wanting to make it her final stance, her grave. But Singed unleashed Warwick/Vander at Stillwater. Vi goes to fight him, with help from Jinx later. OR Jinx was almost going to die going against Warwick/Vander and Vi jumps into the fight to save her/die doing what Vander told her, "protect/take care of Powder."

Basically Vi pouring out all her emotions into this fight. Flashbacks with "Remember Me" playing and Warwick/Vander seeing Vi's familiar fight style, Jinx's yells. He starts remembering, just the faces of his children. His own flashbacks with each kid, Vi being the last. Her child version overlapping who she is bow as an adult. Warwick/Vander letting out an anguish howl and trying to say Vi's name in a distorted voice.

Alternative thought, just struck me.

Ep 4, is about Jinx & Vi, combining what I wrote about each. I'm not about to rewrite this whole thing

Ep 5, being about Jayce/Ekko/Viktor/Mel. More so Mel & the Black Roses. Her journey in whatever maguc prison they put her into paralleling Jayce's own journey in the Hexcore/Arcane Time/Dimension Magic? Ekko, idk if he got separated from Jayce. Instead having his own journey in that Time Magic Fuckery with Heimerdinger.

Probably both groups seeing the danger of this Arcane corruption, one in the past, and one in the future.

Either way, all three groups break out. Mel goes to stop & get answers from her Mother. After learning everything she could from the Black Roses after defeating whoever was holding her. Awakening her own powers. Ekko going to save Zaun, and Jayce going to stop & save Viktor.

□□□

Ep 6, I feel like the episode will start with Viktor & his cult. Seeing how much it's grown during the time skip. Long haired Viktor, but while he should be happy. Idk maybe there is an unease brewing in Viktor, especially how weird his followers/hexcore Sky hallucination act. With tales of his miracles spreading, wouldn't be surprised if Ambessa tried making a deal with Viktor or something similar to have that magic on her side.

Viktor's cult has been in the background for Ep 4 & 5. So yeah, finally seeing what is going on with him. Probably eldritch horrors he can't comprehend and that disguise themselves as Sky, but can't or won't anyone. Since their influence & power is growing. Probably soon, they are going to do a ritual, maybe sacrifice of the followers to unleash something.

Viktor slowly realizing this. Adding in that with Ambessa's ruthless attacks on Zaun. Almost everyone has migrated to the lower levels where Viktor & his cult are. So when Ambessa attacks as we see in the trailer. Viktor & his followers are gonna be caught up in it.

Maybe Viktor & his followers will join the fight for Zaun, maybe the Hexcore/Void? Uses this opposite to do something? Honestly do not know, again all speculation.

Probably WRONG on everything here, but it was fun to theorize.

Lastly, quick things I want to happen in Act 2.

JINX & VIKTOR MEETING, they gotta at least have a conversation! Something something of Jinx commenting that Viktor isn't the only one who has hallucinations & hears voice. OR at least a long glance at each other

ISHA NOT DYING, I refuse to believe she's gonna die. Maybe almost dying, but Jinx saving her, thus how she lost her braids.

Slico hallucinations & voices being supportive

Jinx kicking Noxus soldiers ass especially with her own hextech/magic.

Mel having magic because she was touch/blessed by Kindred in the womb. Which unknown to her, is how she kept escaping death. Essentially, Mel is the lamb, fox, snd wolf. Death's champion.

Viktor & Singed meeting again.

Probably Maddie dying or her being horrified by her actions OR Maddie isn't horrified by her actions but CAIT IS

Steb, quitting the enforcers, starts a chain event of other enforcers quitting cause this is all going too far. Probably later, Cait asking him & others for help to stop Ambessa

Now to prepare myself to what an emotional mess I'll be in a few hours: