#little. even if that did end up helping him in the long run

[moonlitstoriess]

You Were Mine First- Lucien x fem!reader (2/2)

Summary: For one hundred years, Y/N carried the weight of a bond Lucien never felt. Then, one day, it was gone—severed, rewritten, given to another. She thought she could endure it. Thought she could live unseen, unnoticed. Until the day Lucien walked into her shop… and fate forced them face to face.

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Previous part

Warnings: mention of injury, angst, miscommunication (gets resolved towards the end), fluffy end

Lucien shifted on his feet, running a hand through his hair. This wasn’t his problem. This wasn’t supposed to bother him this much.

But she’d left. Y/N had left.

And wasn’t that telling? How many times had he seen someone disappear overnight? How many times had someone been forced to run because of rumors—because of accusations? But this wasn’t some nameless, faceless person.

This was her.

The female who, for some reason, always had that ridiculous book of herbal remedies tucked under the counter when he came in, despite her pretending she never read it. The female who always kept her guard up around him.

The female who might’ve been a Hybern loyalist.

Lucien clenched his jaw.

That’s what the rumors said. That’s what the whispers had claimed for weeks now, hadn’t they? That she was hiding something, that she wasn’t who she said she was.

And maybe they were right.

Maybe he’d been a fool, walking into her shop every damn week, trading snide remarks, and thinking—what? That she was just some ordinary shopkeeper? That she wasn’t tangled up in something deeper?

So that means she really was what the rumors said? She really did support Hybern?

The thought made his stomach twist.

But then another voice in his head scoffed.

Everyone hides something, idiot.

Lucien exhaled sharply. He needed to get out of here.

But he didn’t move.

Because something was still nagging at him. A little thread, dangling just out of reach.

And then—click.

Arlena.

Her grandmother.

What if she hadn’t left?

Lucien’s heart gave a hard, single beat against his ribs.

Because he knew where Y/N’s house was. He had walked her back once, when he’d come across her on the streets, arms full of heavy bags, stubbornly refusing to ask for help even as she nearly dropped one. He had taken them from her without asking, ignoring her scowl and muttered complaints the entire way.

His feet were already moving.

Then he was walking faster. Then faster. Then nearly running.

And he had no idea what he was expecting to find when he got there.

The sun in Summer Court was relentless, a golden fire drenching the city of Adriata in warmth and light. The breeze carried the scent of salt and citrus, and the streets bustled with life—merchants calling out, waves crashing in the distance, silk-draped fae laughing as they walked past.

And yet, for Y/N, the brightness of this place had yet to reach the parts of her that had long since dimmed.

She had chosen Summer for a reason. Not just for the distance, not just to disappear. The land had been an old inheritance, a quiet place left behind by her mother’s bloodline—a side of the family she had never known well, yet had always carried within her. It was a small, unassuming property near the edge of the city, with enough space for a home and a shop. The perfect place to start over.

She had savings from her years running her shop in Velaris, a decent enough sum to buy the storefront she now stood before. The first few weeks had been exhausting—negotiating prices, hiring help for renovations, deciding what this shop would even sell.

It was nothing like her old store in Velaris. No trinkets, no delicate crafts.

Instead, her hands now worked with nature itself. Herbs, teas, salves, elixirs. People came to her shop not for decoration, but for healing, for energy, for sleep, for clarity. A new purpose, one that let her bury herself in the motions of work, in the careful grind of mortar against pestle, in the measurements and mixtures that demanded precision, leaving no space for intrusive thoughts.

But some nights, even potions could not drown out her mind.

Lucien knows.

Oh, Cauldron. He knows.

And yet… he still chose Elain.

How many times had she woken up, heart pounding, that thought looping like a curse in her head? How many times had she tried to make sense of it, only for every answer to twist the knife deeper?

She had spent countless nights staring at the ceiling, going over every word, every sentence, every interaction. Had it meant nothing? Had he truly been so disgusted by the truth that he couldn’t even face her before she left?

Her fingers tightened around the wooden door handle of her shop, her reflection caught in the glass.

She had tried to forget.

Tried to move forward.

But how does one move on when their mate has broken the bond and chosen another?

The sun was bright, the sky was endless, the waters shimmered like liquid gold. But in the end, even the Summer Court could not burn away the shadows curling in her heart.

"It’s crazy how life changes."

Lucien nodded slowly, his gaze focused on his hands—not seeing, not really listening. His mind churned with thoughts so tangled, he wasn’t even sure what Jurian was talking about.

A few weeks ago, he had run to Y/N’s home, desperate for answers, for something, for her grandmother. But Arlena was gone, too. The house was empty, untouched, a ghost of the life that had once been there.

Either way, Lucien had been left standing in the street, feeling something he hadn’t in years.

Lost.

After that, he gave up. He went back home, forced himself to push it all aside, to bury it in the corners of his mind where things he didn’t want to deal with went to rot.

It was easier than trying to hold onto something slipping through his fingers. Easier than chasing ghosts. He spent the following days with Elain during his stay, listening to her soft, soothing words, getting to know her, trying to connect with her like he had hoped to for the past year.

They spent the following days together, talking, laughing, sharing time in a way they never had before. And Lucien had tried, truly tried, to tell himself that this was it—that this was what he wanted, what he needed.

But now, weeks later, he realized it wasn’t the fairy-tale connection he had imagined.

He didn’t feel as happy as he thought he would.

Maybe it was his fault. Maybe he was just an ungrateful brat who couldn’t appreciate the beautiful, kind mate who had been right in front of him this whole time. Elain was everything he was supposed to want.

But maybe it was because he kept thinking about a certain shopkeeper who made Elain open up to him through her gifts in the first place.

Because somewhere deep down, his mind wandered back to Y/N.

But he couldn’t help it.

His mind kept replaying their conversations, the way she had spoken to him, her sharp words cutting through him like a blade—yet there was something there, something he couldn’t explain. A pull. A sense of ease when he was around her.

Why?

Why had she made him feel that way?

He had been around Elain, and it had always been careful, calculated. Everything had felt like a slow, hesitant dance. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for her, because he did, but...

With Y/N, it had been different.

It had been natural.

Her sarcasm, her cold demeanor—none of that had scared him off. It had intrigued him. She hadn’t expected anything from him. There had been no pressure, no attempt to make him fit into some mold of what he was supposed to be.

With her, he had felt like he could breathe.

So why did he keep thinking about her? Why did she keep creeping into his thoughts when he had a mate who, in many ways, was exactly what he needed?

It wasn’t fair.

And maybe that’s what it all boiled down to—fairness.

Maybe it wasn’t fair to Elain that his mind kept wandering back to Y/N, but there was something in the way they had connected. It had been real. It had felt like more than what he had with Elain, more than the gentle smiles and words he’d shared with her.

The more he thought about it, the more it became clear.

He wasn’t sure if it was because of how easy it had been to be around Y/N, or because of how guarded she was, but there had been something magnetic between them.

And that scared him. Scared him more than he cared to admit.

He shouldn’t even be thinking like this.

Lucien’s chest tightened as the thoughts swirled in his mind, making him feel like he was suffocating. Why had he thought there was something there between them? Why had he thought there was a connection?

The questions piled up. One after another, relentless, endless. He couldn’t find a way to quiet them.

His thoughts flickered back to Elain, and for a moment, guilt washed over him.

Why couldn’t he focus on her? Why couldn’t he just be satisfied with what he had?

But then, like a fresh wave, his thoughts returned to Y/N again.

Where was she now? What was she doing? Was she still in Velaris? Had she found somewhere else to go, somewhere safer? Was she still running from whatever had haunted her?

And, most importantly, why the hell did he keep thinking about her?

There was no answer, not really.

But one thing was clear—he couldn’t shake her.

No matter how many times he tried to bury it, no matter how many days he spent with Elain or how many nights he lost in conversation with her, his mind kept returning to Y/N. The girl with the cold exterior, the one who hadn’t wanted him in her life, but had made him feel like he belonged.

His chest tightened at the thought. He didn’t know what any of this meant, or what he was supposed to do with the feelings that twisted inside of him every time he thought of her.

But for the first time, he couldn’t deny the truth anymore.

Y/N had gotten under his skin, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

Lucien snapped out of his thoughts with a sharp flick to the head, the sudden jolt making him hiss and instinctively touch the spot where Jurian had struck him. "The hell was that for?" he growled, wincing at the mild sting.

Jurian raised an eyebrow, his arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair with a look that practically screamed, Are you kidding me? "You've been staring at your hands for the past five minutes," he remarked, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I figured I'd help bring you back to the land of the living."

Lucien gave an exaggerated sigh, slumping back further into his seat. He rubbed the sore spot on his head. "I can't hide it anymore," he admitted, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and resignation. "I need help, J."

"One," Jurian began, his tone suddenly shifting to an almost exasperated, deadpan delivery. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that? It’s enough to make me lose my patience with you." He paused for a beat, clearly making fun of Lucien's sense of familiarity. "And two," he continued, leaning forward slightly with a smirk, "please, do tell. What has been gnawing at that pretty little head of yours? I’m dying to hear it."

Lucien inhaled deeply and leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping absently on the armrest. "You remember how you told me two months ago to visit Y/N’s shop?" he asked, his voice quieter now, careful not to give too much away.

Jurian nodded, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, I remember. Thought it might work out for you, seeing as you were so... desperate for your little flower princess." His voice was thick with mockery, but Lucien wasn’t in the mood for it.

Lucien clenched his jaw for a moment, steeling himself. "Well, yeah. Her," he finally said, voice low and almost embarrassed. He could feel the weight of the words on his tongue. "I’ve been visiting her shop. And, at first, it was just to buy some gifts for Elain. You know, to finally get things to move forward with her. Things started... well, things started to feel like they were finally falling into place."

Jurian snorted, clearly waiting for the real meat of the story. "But?"

"But," Lucien continued, trying to steady his nerves, "it wasn’t just that. There was... her." He sighed, rubbing his face as if the words hurt to say. "It’s like there was this connection. Not with Elain—don’t get me wrong, I care about Elain—but with Y/N, it was different. I don’t know why, but it was easier to be around her. It was like... like I didn’t have to try so hard. And yes, she was cold, distant, but it was like she saw through me in a way no one else did. And now—now all these rumors are flying around."

Jurian's gaze turned calculating, but his voice was still light when he spoke. "Oh yes, Lord Theon’s ex-fiancée? I heard Lord Theon was in the middle of some important meeting when he got wind of the rumors. Apparently, he fainted right there in front of everyone."

Lucien’s eyes darkened as he leaned forward. "Yeah, that’s the one," he muttered, shaking his head. "But this... these rumors, J. I don’t know what to believe anymore. They’re talking about Y/N like she’s some sort of... monster. A traitor, even. I can’t... I won’t believe it until I see solid proof. Not from the mouths of gossips who can’t even get their stories straight." He leaned back, clenching his fists. "Her shop’s gone. She’s gone. I don’t know where she is, and it’s been driving me crazy. I’ve tried everything—asking around, checking everywhere... nothing. She’s just... gone."

Jurian watched him carefully, his expression turning more serious now. "And yet here you are, still obsessing over her," he noted, a flicker of amusement in his voice but something else, too. Something deeper. "Interesting."

Lucien ran a hand through his hair, looking down at his lap. "I don’t even know why I’m overthinking this," he admitted. "She’s no one to me. I barely know her. I haven’t even spoken to her for weeks, and yet here I am, losing sleep over her. I don’t know what I’d even say if I saw her again. But..." He trailed off, the weight of his unspoken words hanging between them.

Jurian let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head with an almost disdainful grin. "Oh, for the love of the Mother, Lucien," he muttered. "Always the same with you. Always caught up in your feelings for someone you think you can’t have." He crossed his arms and leaned forward, eyes narrowing slightly. "I’m starting to think you like torturing yourself."

Lucien froze, his gaze snapping up to meet Jurian’s. "What are you getting at?"

Jurian’s smirk faltered, and for a moment, his eyes turned dead serious. "Be ready by sunrise," he said, his voice clipped. "We’re going to find her."

Lucien’s heart skipped a beat. "What?!" he demanded, leaning forward in shock. "Are you serious? How do you know—"

Jurian stood abruptly, cutting him off. "For the Mother’s sake, Lucien. Just follow the damn orders."

Lucien’s chest tightened, the urgency in Jurian’s voice making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "What orders? What are you talking about?"

"Don’t worry about it," Jurian snapped, his tone cold and commanding. "You’ll know soon enough. Just be ready."

Lucien stared at him for a moment, disbelief warring with his need to find answers. Find Y/N. But Jurian was already moving toward the door. Lucien stood up, unable to contain the wave of confusion and doubt that hit him. "J, wait—"

But Jurian’s voice was already fading as he disappeared into the hallway. "Sunrise, Vanserra. Sunrise."

And with that, the conversation was over.

Y/N was just closing up her shop, the scent of dried herbs and fresh lavender lingering in the air as the evening sun dipped low in the Summer Court. The street outside buzzed with the usual market hustle, but tonight felt different. There was a strange undercurrent she couldn’t shake. She brushed it off at first—perhaps it was just her nerves. But she was wrong.

As she placed the last jar of salve on the counter, a loud crash came from outside, followed by frantic shouts.

Y/N’s heart skipped. Without a second thought, she grabbed a small satchel, filled it with several healing vials, and tossed her cloak over her shoulders. Something told her she wouldn’t be returning here tonight.

The noise grew louder as she made her way toward the door. Her shop, a little haven of nature’s remedies, had been her peace, her sanctuary. But the world outside wasn’t so kind anymore. The scent of burning wood hit her as soon as she stepped outside. The cobblestones felt hot beneath her feet as she jogged toward the chaos.

When she turned the corner, she froze. A group of men, cloaked in dark robes, were holding down a merchant while another was ripping through his cart. They weren’t from around here—Y/N would have recognized them if they had been. Their movements were swift, practiced.

One of them saw her. The sharp, calculating look in his eyes made her blood run cold. He gestured to his comrades, and within moments, they were heading her way.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. Her fingers slid into the pouch at her waist, pulling out a small glass vial. The green liquid inside was her creation—a soothing balm for the mind, meant for clarity and focus, but it could also disorient anyone who wasn’t prepared for its effects. She uncorked it, letting a quick drop fall into the air between her and the oncoming attackers. The scent of mint, rosemary, and sage swirled around them, and within seconds, they stopped in their tracks, blinking in confusion.

She didn't wait for them to recover. She darted forward, using her agility to slip between them, knocking another vial out of her pouch. This one was for healing—applied in the right spot, it could make someone feel like they were reborn. She splashed it across the face of the closest attacker, watching as the flush of pain in his face faded, replaced by stunned relief. He staggered back, disoriented.

But there wasn’t time to waste.

“Who sent you?” she demanded, her voice cold, her heart racing.

The leader, now regaining his focus, scowled. “Does it matter?”

“Answer me,” Y/N pressed, her voice a low, dangerous hum. She kept one hand on another vial—this one a far more potent concoction meant to knock someone unconscious for hours. The threat in her tone was clear.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment. His eyes flickered to his men, who were recovering more quickly than she’d hoped. Then he finally spoke.

“We're just a few of many... but you're a lot more trouble than we anticipated, shopkeeper.” He gave a harsh laugh. “You'll be seeing more of us soon.”

Y/N didn’t wait to hear more. She turned, bolting through the alleyways of the Summer Court, her mind already calculating her next move. She couldn’t let them get away. She couldn’t let herself be dragged back into whatever mess this was—especially not after everything she had done to get away from it.

Her thoughts churned, a storm in her mind. Who were they? What do they want from me? But no matter what, she knew she couldn’t let them win. Not again. Not when she had worked so damn hard to build this new life, to carve out a little peace for herself.

The Summer Court was still bright and warm, the air still heavy with the scent of flowers, but Y/N could feel the storm building. Whatever game these people were playing, she wasn’t going to lose.

Lucien stood in the doorway of their shared quarters, staring at the crumpled parchment in his hands. He had been pacing for the past hour, the weight of his decision hanging over him. He had to leave, had to find her—find Y/N—but that didn’t mean he could just vanish without saying something to Elain.

His thoughts tangled, the words not coming easily. The last thing he wanted was to lie, but he also couldn’t tell her the truth. Not yet. Not until he had answers. Until he knew what the hell was really going on.

With a quiet sigh, he unrolled the parchment and began to write:

Elain,

I need to go with Jurian on a mission for a few days. Don’t worry, it’s nothing dangerous. I’ll be back soon, but I wanted to let you know. I’m leaving at sunrise and won’t be reachable for a while.

I’ll see you soon.

Lucien.

He set the quill down and stared at the letter, the words swimming in front of him. He wanted to say more, to apologize for his absence, to explain the chaos building inside him. But it wasn’t the time. He had a job to do, and for once, he wasn’t going to let his heart dictate his next move.

He folded the parchment carefully, sealing it with a wax stamp before using his magic to send it to her, hoping she would see it before he left. Then, with a deep breath, he turned on his heel, heading for the door.

The gnawing sense of urgency in his stomach had grown into a fierce hunger. The rumors about Y/N didn’t add up, and that only made it worse. Was she really the monster they were painting her to be? Or was it something more? Something deeper?

He wasn’t sure what he hoped to find—proof that she wasn’t the traitor, or maybe the confirmation that she was. The truth would hurt either way, but at least it would settle the chaos inside his mind.

The letter to Elain had been easy enough to write—too easy, almost. He couldn’t let her get involved in this. Not when the stakes were too high, not when he had no idea what was going to happen. He hated himself for keeping her in the dark, but there was no other choice.

His heart twisted in his chest, but he shoved the feeling aside as he pulled the door open to leave. He had no time for guilt. No time for second-guessing. He had a mission to complete.

Lucien walked down the hall with his footsteps steady but heavy, as if the weight of his own thoughts were trying to drag him back to his quarters. He caught sight of Jurian, leaning casually against the stone wall, arms crossed and looking annoyingly unbothered.

Jurian’s eyes flicked up when he heard Lucien approach, a smirk spreading across his face. "You ready to go, or are you going to stand there brooding all morning?"

Lucien’s lip curled, annoyance mixing with the raw energy that thrummed through his veins. "I’ve been up all night, and I’m still not sure if this is a good idea," he snapped, his voice clipped.

"Good idea? It’s a terrible idea," Jurian said, sounding almost cheerful. "But I figured you'd want to at least try to solve the mystery of the disappearing witch. Plus, you’ve been staring at your hands for a week now like they might hold the answers."

Lucien’s eyes narrowed, his fingers twitching at the mention of the damn hands. "Don’t start," he muttered, rubbing his face in frustration.

Jurian grinned wider, clearly enjoying the way he was getting under Lucien’s skin. "Oh, I’m just getting started, don’t worry." He pushed off the wall, stretching lazily.

"I’ve been searching everywhere. I’ve asked every damn person who might know, and it’s like she disappeared off the face of the Earth." His voice was tight with frustration, hands balling into fists at his sides. "I should’ve known better. Trusting the rumors, getting wrapped up in this... mess."

"You’re really going to blame yourself for this?" Jurian raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for self-flagellation, but this is just... sad, Lucien."

Lucien shot him a glare. "Not the time for jokes, Jurian."

The smile on Jurian’s face faltered for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. "No, I guess not. You’re right," he said, his voice low. "We don’t know what’s going on with her. But we’re going to find out." His tone shifted again, becoming more serious. "It’s not like you have any other option at this point. You want this. You need this. And if it means going after someone you barely know, someone with half the city convinced she’s a monster, then you’ll do it, because you’ve already made up your mind."

Lucien’s chest tightened, the weight of Jurian’s words landing harder than expected. "I’m doing it because I need answers," he said, his voice steadier now. "Because this... it’s more than just rumors. It’s about what’s real. And if I have to track her down to find out the truth, then that’s what I’ll do." He paused, taking a slow breath. "But it’s not just about finding her. It’s about knowing who she really is. What she’s done, or... hasn’t done."

Jurian studied him for a long moment, eyes calculating. "We’ll find her. We’ll figure it out," he said with a nod, sounding more serious than before. "But if this goes south, Lucien... I want you to know, it’s not on me."

Lucien gave a dry laugh. "Of course it’s not on you. It never is." He clapped his hand to Jurian’s shoulder, trying to steady his nerves. "Let’s just get this over with. I can’t do this alone."

Jurian’s smirk returned, but there was something more behind it now—an edge. "Good. You’re finally admitting it."

Lucien shot him a look. "Don’t push it."

"Fine, fine," Jurian said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Let’s go find your best friend. But I’m warning you, if she turns out to be as bad as they say, I’m not sticking around for the emotional crisis that follows."

Lucien gritted his teeth, trying not to let the sarcasm get under his skin. "Just don’t slow me down, J. We have a long day ahead of us."

Jurian chuckled darkly, the sound echoing in the hallway. "After you, my brooding friend."

Lucien shot him one last look before heading toward the door, his heart pounding with every step. The mission was simple: Find Y/N. But the questions, the doubts, they lingered, gnawing at him, growing louder with every passing second.

And as he stepped out into the morning light, the only thing he was certain of was that nothing about this search would be simple.

It has to be Elain who sent those maniacs here.

Who else would it be? It makes sense. She had to be the one. All the signs point to her—quiet, calculating, the type to hold grudges until they fester. And why wouldn’t Elain go to such lengths? After everything that happened, it had to be her. She’d wanted to get rid of Y/N for so long, hadn’t she? She'd never let go of what happened. Of what Y/N took from her.

It’s so obvious, and yet... why would Elain care now?

She’s moved on, hasn’t she? Lucien’s at her side, everything she’s ever wanted right there in Velaris. The life she dreamed of. She has him, she has peace. She doesn’t need to keep trying to ruin everything Y/N has built, not now.

No. She was overthinking. This is just paranoia talking. What reason could she have for coming after me now? She reached her goal. She got her happy little ending, with the sunlight and the soft life, the happiness that should've been hers in the first place, that Y/N "took" away from her. That should be enough for her, shouldn’t it?

Y/N must be exaggerating.

But then, that little voice in the back of her mind—the one that’s been whispering to her for days—speaks louder, sharper, like the snap of a blade being drawn. Elain wouldn’t stop there. She never did. It’s not enough for her. It was never enough. She always had to be the one on top. And why should Y/N think she’s changed? Why should she think that her perfect, pristine world in Velaris is so flawless that she doesn’t feel the need to drag Y/N into the dirt one more time?

Elain sent them. Elain sent them.

Fury rises in her blood, hotter than anything she’s ever felt. It’s like a fire, wild and uncontrollable, consuming everything in its path. The bloodthirsty rage that’s been bubbling just under the surface for so long bursts free, flooding her mind with sharp, ugly images.

Let Elain think she’s won. Let her think she’s found peace in Velaris with her perfect life and her perfect love. She doesn’t know what Y/N’s been through, what she’s become. Elain has no idea what she’s turned into.

The moment Y/N steps closer to her house, the feeling intensifies. That familiar weight, that oppressive sense of ownership she has over everything here. It’s home. And the thought of someone daring to cross that boundary, to threaten what’s hers... It fills her with a need to destroy, to make them feel the pain she’s endured.

This ends now.

Y/N steps through the gate, the weight of her anger settling over her like a storm cloud, ready to break and wash away everything in its path. Her fists curl at her sides, knuckles white.

The world is a blur around her, but her focus is clear, sharp—so sharp it hurts. Elain thought she could do this, that she could manipulate and twist things from behind the scenes, that she could silence her.

Well, Elain’s about to learn that Y/N’s not something to be erased. She’s survived everything Elain could never understand.

Y/N feels the pulse of power in her veins, a power she’s learned to control, to shape with precision.

But at the same time, her mind is full of questions she can’t seem to shake, voices she can’t quiet.

Why would Elain care now? She has everything she wanted. She has Lucien. She has Velaris. She has... peace.

But the bloodthirsty part of Y/N screams, telling her the answer. Elain hasn’t changed. She’s still the same. She never stopped hating Y/N. She never stopped wanting her to pay for what she did.

And if Elain’s the one who brought this chaos to Y/N’s doorstep, if she’s the one who is responsible for all of this...

Y/N will make sure she regrets it.

The days stretched on, each one dragging heavier than the last. Lucien had expected a difficult journey, but what grated on him most wasn’t the exhaustion, the unrelenting pace, or even the unease curling in his gut. It was Jurian.

The bastard was too comfortable.

Even after days of walking through untamed wilderness, Jurian showed no signs of strain. He was always two steps ahead, moving with purpose, like a man who knew exactly where he was going. That, more than anything, was what made Lucien’s nerves prickle.

Because he didn’t.

Lucien had asked—several times—but every demand was met with the same infuriating response.

"You’ll see when we get there."

Or—

"Patience, Fox Boy."

Or, the worst of them all—

"You ask too many questions."

Lucien had never wanted to punch someone as much as he did right now.

The sun was dipping behind the treetops when Lucien tried again, this time without the usual exasperation in his voice.

"You owe me an explanation, Jurian."

Jurian didn’t even pause. "I owe you a lot of things, but an explanation isn’t one of them."

Lucien exhaled sharply, quickening his pace until they were walking side by side. "You’re leading me somewhere, but you refuse to say where. You’re dragging me across this entire damn territory on nothing but vague assurances and half-truths. And I’m supposed to just—what? Trust you?"

Jurian finally looked at him, eyes glinting with amusement. "That is how journeys usually work."

Lucien scowled. "Not when the guide is a lying bastard."

Jurian’s smirk widened. "Then maybe you should’ve stayed home."

Lucien’s temper flared, but he bit it back. He needed to stay sharp. Fighting Jurian wouldn’t get him answers—at least, not yet.

He settled for a different approach.

"What’s so damn important that you dragged me away in the middle of the night for this?" His voice was quieter now, more measured. "What aren’t you telling me?"

Jurian didn’t answer right away. He let the silence stretch between them, long enough that Lucien thought he wouldn’t answer at all. Then, with a casual shrug, he said—

"It’s about Elain."

Lucien’s stomach dropped.

His steps faltered for half a second before he forced himself to keep walking. "What about her?"

Jurian didn’t so much as glance at him. "Isn’t that what you’ve been wondering all this time?"

Lucien’s fingers curled into fists at his sides. "Don’t play games with me, Jurian."

Jurian let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "Then stop making it so easy."

Lucien swore under his breath. "What did you find out?"

"Not here," Jurian said easily, as if they were discussing the weather and not something that had haunted Lucien. "We need to keep moving."

Lucien let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Of course. Keep moving. Keep following you blindly, like a fool."

Jurian only smiled. "See? You do learn."

Lucien clenched his jaw so hard it ached.

He didn’t push further—not yet—but he felt it. That creeping, gnawing sense of dread curling around his ribs. Something was wrong.

And Jurian knew.

They traveled in silence for the next few hours, the tension between them thick enough to cut. The further they walked, the more Lucien noticed the shift in the land.

At first, it was subtle—just a feeling. The way the trees seemed to lean inward, their branches gnarled and twisted. The way the air grew still, heavier, like it had absorbed something dark long ago and never fully let go.

But by the time they reached the outskirts of the abandoned village, there was no ignoring it.

Lucien knew this place.

Not this village specifically, but places like it.

War-ravaged. Hollow. Ghosts of the past lingering in every shattered doorway and burned-out home.

The scent hit him first. Not fresh rot, but something old, lingering beneath the earth. The kind of decay that never fully faded, no matter how much time passed.

He stopped walking.

Jurian did too, his expression unreadable.

"What is this place?" Lucien asked, his voice quieter now, as if speaking too loudly would disturb whatever still lurked here.

Jurian scanned the ruins ahead. "One of the many casualties of the war."

Lucien didn’t need him to elaborate. He could see it—feel it.

The remnants of homes, long abandoned. Blackened, crumbling walls. A dried-up well in the center of the village square, its stones cracked from heat. Rusted weapons littered the ground, half-buried beneath dirt and dead leaves.

War.

"Hybern," he muttered under his breath, his throat tightening.

Jurian, for once, didn’t offer some sarcastic remark. "One of many villages that got caught in the crossfire," he said, voice quieter than usual. "People forget that it wasn’t just soldiers who died."

Lucien’s jaw tightened. "We’re going through it?"

Jurian nodded. "It’s the fastest way. Unless you want to add another three days to the trip?"

Lucien shook his head, already stepping forward. "Let’s get it over with."

He could hear it.

The echoes of screams. The clash of steel. The silence that followed when the battle ended and there was no one left to save.

Lucien didn’t argue.

They moved carefully, stepping over broken beams, past shattered doorways and collapsed roofs. The air was thick, suffocating. A graveyard without the graves. The silence here was wrong. No birds. No insects. Just the whisper of the wind through empty streets.

Lucien tried not to think about the people who had once lived here.

Tried not to wonder if they’d been innocent. If they’d fought. If they’d even had the chance.

Jurian, for once, didn’t make any snide remarks. He was watching. Not just the village, but the shadows between the ruins.

That’s when Lucien felt it.

A shift in the air.

A ripple through the silence, like something watching.

He stopped.

Jurian did, too.

"You feel that?" Lucien asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jurian nodded once, hand moving toward his sword. "We’re not alone."

Lucien’s magic flared, crackling beneath his skin.

And then—

A shadow moved.

A flicker of something darting between the ruined houses. Too fast. Too smooth.

Lucien’s blood turned to ice.

"We need to go," Jurian said lowly, his voice calm, but firm.

Lucien didn’t argue.

They turned—

But the wraiths were already closing in.

The first wraith struck fast—a blur of darkness lunging from the shadows.

Lucien barely had time to react before his instincts took over. He dodged, twisting out of the way just as clawed fingers swiped at his throat. The air where he had stood shimmered, the wraith’s claws leaving behind a faint, sickly glow.

Poison?

"Shit," Jurian swore, unsheathing his sword in a single, fluid motion. "Run or fight?"

Lucien barely had time to answer. Another wraith rushed him, its form shifting between mist and flesh, solidifying only at the last second. He ducked, spinning on his heel as his dagger flashed in the dim light—slicing clean through the creature’s chest.

No blood.

No scream.

Just a horrible, hissing noise as the wraith reformed, its body pulling itself back together as if the wound had never been there.

Lucien’s pulse spiked.

"Fight," he gritted out. "And hurry."

There were more of them now.

Emerging from the ruins, peeling themselves from the shadows. Dozens.

Their eyes glowed—a color that wasn’t quite gold, not quite silver. Not alive. Not dead.

Jurian let out a short, humorless laugh. "Great."

And then they were on them.

Lucien fought like hell.

He moved with precision, dodging the wraiths' attacks as his blade flashed, slicing through their forms—only for them to reform again and again.

They were fast. Not solid for long enough to land a killing blow.

One lunged at his back—he twisted, barely avoiding its claws as another wraith swept toward his side.

Too many.

Then—

A blast of steel.

Jurian’s sword cleaved through the nearest wraith, cutting it clean in half. The creature dissipated, its shadowy form writhing before it melted into the ruins.

Lucien’s breath hitched.

Jurian grinned. "Gotta love blessed steel."

Lucien swore under his breath. "Could’ve told me that earlier."

"Where’s the fun in that?"

Lucien didn’t have time to respond before another wraith attacked.

Jurian’s blade swung—another kill—but the creatures weren’t stopping.

Lucien cursed. His magic flared, the heat of his power surging through his veins. He reached for it—grasped at it—fire burning at his fingertips.

The wraiths shrank back.

Lucien exhaled sharply. Fire. That’s what they feared.

Without hesitating, he unleashed it.

Flames erupted from his hands, roaring through the air, setting the ruins ablaze.

The wraiths shrieked.

They fled.

Dissolving into shadows, vanishing into the ruins.

And then—

Silence.

Lucien stood there, chest heaving, flames still flickering at his fingertips. The smell of burning lingered in the air.

Jurian let out a slow whistle. "Could’ve started with that."

Lucien shot him a glare. "I thought we were running."

Jurian smirked. "You wanted to fight."

Lucien rolled his eyes, shoving his dagger back into its sheath. "Next time, maybe warn me about the blessed steel before I nearly get my throat ripped out."

Jurian chuckled. "Noted."

Lucien glanced back at the ruins. The wraiths were gone, but that creeping unease still clung to the air.

He exhaled sharply. "Let’s get the hell out of here."

Jurian nodded. "Agreed."

And without another word, they moved on.

They didn’t stop until the sky bled red and gold, the last remnants of sunlight sinking below the horizon.

Lucien’s limbs ached, the wraith attack still burning in his muscles. They had covered miles since then, moving swiftly through the crumbling remains of another forgotten village. It had been abandoned long before the war with Hybern, yet the weight of destruction still lingered in the air.

Burned homes. Collapsed rooftops. Statues worn down by time and war.

A ghost town, untouched for years.

Lucien pulled his cloak tighter around him, his breath misting in the cold air. "Where the hell are we?"

Jurian didn’t glance back. "A place people don’t walk into unless they have a damn good reason."

Lucien scowled. "And what’s our reason?"

Jurian was quiet.

Too quiet.

Lucien’s irritation spiked. "Jurian."

Nothing.

"Jurian, I swear to the gods—"

Jurian sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "We needed a way through. This was the fastest route."

Bullshit.

Lucien stopped walking. "You keep saying we need to hurry, but you haven’t told me why."

Jurian paused, his back still turned. "Because if I told you, you’d think too much."

Lucien clenched his jaw. "And I’m not already thinking too much?"

Jurian finally turned. "Would you rather go back to Velaris? Back to the lie you’ve been living?"

Lucien’s blood ran cold.

His fingers twitched toward his dagger. "What the hell does that mean?"

Jurian didn’t answer. He just sighed, shaking his head. "We’re stopping here for the night. Keep your questions to yourself until morning."

Lucien barely resisted the urge to punch him.

But he let it go. For now.

The fire crackled between them, casting long shadows against the ruined walls.

Lucien sat with his back against the cold stone, arms crossed, eyes locked on Jurian. He still hadn’t gotten a straight answer.

And he was done waiting.

"You knew about the wraiths, didn’t you?"

Jurian didn’t look up from sharpening his sword. "Figured we could handle it."

Lucien let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "And the ruins? The fact that no one comes through here? That wasn’t a warning sign?"

Jurian finally met his gaze. "Do you trust me?"

Lucien’s stomach twisted.

Because he didn’t know.

He wanted to. Jurian had been the one person who hadn’t treated him like an afterthought, the one person who wasn’t waiting for him to fall in line with someone else’s plans.

But this—this secrecy,

Lucien leaned forward. "Tell me why we’re really here."

Jurian exhaled. "Because this place still holds remnants of the Cauldron’s power. And I need you to see something for yourself."

Lucien frowned. "The Cauldron was destroyed."

Jurian’s gaze was unreadable. "Was it?"

A chill ran down Lucien’s spine.

He had seen it shatter during the war. Seen the pieces scatter into nothing.

Hadn’t he?

Lucien’s fists clenched. "What aren’t you telling me?"

Jurian looked at him for a long moment, then simply said, "You’ll find out when we get there."

Lucien gritted his teeth. "That’s not good enough."

Jurian smirked. "It’s going to have to be."

Lucien swore under his breath.

He had a feeling that, whatever waited for him at the end of this road, it was going to change everything.

And he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

The wind howled through the skeletal trees, rattling the bare branches like bones clacking together.

They had left the abandoned village behind at dawn, but the land only grew more hostile. The deeper they traveled, the colder it became. The quieter.

Too quiet.

Lucien had spent enough time in Prythian’s wild places to know when nature had gone still for a reason. And this place—the stretch of land leading to the Cauldron’s ruins—was wrong.

He glanced at Jurian, who was unnervingly calm. Like he expected this.

"How much farther?" Lucien asked, voice low.

Jurian didn’t answer immediately. He surveyed the forest ahead, gaze sharp, before murmuring, "A few more days. If we’re lucky."

Lucien scowled. "If we’re lucky?"

Jurian only kept walking.

Lucien followed, but the unease creeping up his spine didn’t leave him.

They set up camp in a clearing that night.

Lucien’s muscles ached. His exhaustion was bone-deep, but sleep wouldn’t come.

Because he could hear it.

Faint at first, like a whisper beneath the wind.

Something was out there.

Jurian was still awake, sitting by the fire, sharpening his blade. He didn’t react to the sound, didn’t even glance up.

Lucien narrowed his eyes. "You hear that?"

Jurian hummed. "Yep."

Lucien’s fingers twitched toward his dagger. "And you’re just—what? Ignoring it?"

Jurian finally looked at him, utterly unbothered. "No point worrying about something until it shows its teeth."

Lucien let out a sharp breath. "You’re insane."

Jurian grinned. "Probably."

Lucien rolled his eyes, but his grip tightened on his blade.

Because the whispering didn’t stop.

And whatever was out there... it was watching them.

It happened fast.

Too fast.

One second, the fire crackled peacefully. The next, shadows exploded from the trees.

Lucien barely had time to react before something slammed into him, sending him skidding across the dirt.

His head spun. He caught a glimpse of glowing eyes, of blackened flesh, before Jurian’s sword sliced through the air.

A shriek—a sound that shouldn’t exist—ripped through the night.

Lucien rolled to his feet, his blade drawn.

The creatures were wrong. Their shapes flickered, shifting unnaturally. They had too many limbs, too many eyes, their bodies twisting in ways that made Lucien’s stomach churn.

And they were fast.

He barely dodged the next attack, his instincts screaming. He slashed, his blade cutting through one of the creatures, but it didn’t bleed. It only shrieked, retreating into the darkness before another took its place.

"What the hell are these things?" Lucien growled.

Jurian’s expression was grim. "Remnants."

Lucien swore. "Remnants of what?"

"The Cauldron’s destruction left things behind," Jurian said, slicing through another. "Things that shouldn’t exist."

Lucien didn’t have time to process that.

Because one of the creatures lunged—

And this time, he wasn’t fast enough.

Pain exploded in his shoulder as claws raked through flesh. He staggered, his vision blurring.

Jurian swore. Then suddenly—

A flare of golden light.

Lucien barely registered it—barely registered the way the creatures shrieked and fled—before the world tilted and his knees hit the ground.

His vision swam.

The last thing he heard was Jurian muttering, "Well, that complicates things."

Then—darkness.

When Lucien woke, he wasn’t in the forest anymore.

The air was damp, thick with ancient power.

He groaned, forcing himself upright. His shoulder ached, but it had been bandaged.

Footsteps.

He turned his head just as Jurian entered. “Good. You’re awake.”

Lucien frowned. “Where are we?”

Jurian crouched by the fire, tossing him a waterskin. “We made it.”

Lucien’s stomach dropped.

He looked around, really taking in his surroundings. The cavernous walls. The stone pillars, cracked and covered in old runes. The lingering hum of magic, faint but unmistakable.

He knew this place.

Or at least, he thought he did.

Lucien’s mouth was dry when he said, “This is where the Cauldron was, isn’t it?”

Jurian’s expression was unreadable. “It still is.”

Lucien’s heart skipped a beat.

He shot to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in his shoulder. “That’s not possible. The Cauldron was destroyed.”

Jurian tilted his head. “Was it?”

Lucien’s breath hitched.

He felt it before he understood it—the low, thrumming pull of magic older than the world itself.

He stepped forward, the pulse growing stronger, rattling in his bones, in his very soul. His breath turned shallow, his heart hammering.

Something was wrong.

Something was breaking open.

And then—

The world snapped apart.

Pain ripped through him, tearing through flesh and bone, through his mind, his soul.

A vision struck—

Not a memory. A truth.

A vision of a golden afternoon.

A female stood before him—Y/N.

His heart lurched at the sight of her, at the sheer familiarity of her. His mate.

Not Elain.

Her.

Lucien saw it now—the moment it had happened. The moment the Cauldron had chosen her for him.

It had been gentle. A bond of warmth, of understanding. A bond that had existed before it had even been acknowledged, woven into the fabric of who they were.

Y/N’s eyes had widened, and Lucien had felt it too—that pull.

That undeniable, world-shattering pull of a true mate.

But then—

Then the vision twisted.

The Cauldron trembled.

It had been fractured, unstable from its own rebirth. It faltered.

Lucien watched in horror as its power surged, its mistake unraveling before him.

It was not meant to break bonds.

But it had.

The vision shifted—

To the King of Hybern.

To Elain.

To the final battle, the moment the Cauldron ripped him apart and rewrote fate itself.

Y/N's bond with him had been severed.

Destroyed.

And in its place—

The Cauldron had forced him onto another.

Elain.

A lie.

A mistake.

The Cauldron had realized too late what it had done, the wrongness of it, but its power had already been spent.

Lucien's soul had been torn in two, bound to a woman who was never meant to be his-while his true mate had been left behind. Forgotten.

She had believed he had rejected her.

Had abandoned her.

Had chosen another.

And he—

He had been living in a cage of fate's broken design.

Lucien gasped, the vision collapsing around him.

And as the truth settled into his bones, something within him shifted—

Something long dormant-long lost-

Snapped back into place.

His bond-his real bond-roared to life.

It hit him like a storm, like a fire that had never gone out, only buried beneath the ashes of deception.

And Y/N-

He could feel her.

Her breath.

Her heartbeat.

Her presence, far, far away-but there.

Alive.

Real.

His mate.

His true mate.

Lucien stumbled back, his chest heaving, his vision still spinning as the power of the Cauldron recoiled, leaving him standing in the aftermath.

His knees buckled, and he clawed for stability, gasping for air, for something to hold onto.

The world slowly pieced itself back together.

And when it did—

Lucien turned.

His gaze locked onto Jurian.

“You…” His voice shook, raw, disbelieving. “You knew this whole time.”

Jurian’s expression was entirely unrepentant. “Yep.”

Lucien’s hands curled into fists, his breath coming too fast, too sharp. “You knew this entire fucking time?”

Jurian grinned, leaning against a nearby pillar. “What can I say? Watching you torture yourself over the wrong female was the most entertainment I’ve had in centuries.”

Lucien growled, taking a step forward. “You—” His mind was racing, piecing it all together. “That’s why you suggested I go to her shop.”

Not a question.

A statement.

Jurian’s smirk widened. “Also guilty.”

Lucien’s stomach turned. “You planned this.”

Jurian tilted his head, smug as ever. “Maybe I just got tired of seeing you so blind and Y/N so stubbornly quiet about this whole charade. Decided to take things into my own hands.”

Lucien bristled, rage crackling through him. “And you didn’t think to tell me sooner?”

Jurian exhaled. “You forget—I was with the King of Hybern for a very long time. I know everything about the Cauldron. How it works. How it fucks people over.” His eyes gleamed. “And I knew you wouldn’t believe me if I’d told you outright.”

Lucien’s blood boiled.

His fists clenched.

And before he could stop himself—

He lunged.

He grabbed Jurian by the collar, slamming him into the nearest stone pillar.

“For a year,” Lucien snarled, his grip tightening, “a fucking year, you watched me tear myself apart for a female who wasn’t even mine—while you let my real mate believe I abandoned her?”

His teeth bared, his voice shaking with rage, betrayal, agony. “What in the Mother’s name is wrong with you?”

Jurian didn’t so much as flinch.

Didn’t even look surprised.

He just sighed. “Being a hero never really suited me.”

Lucien’s fury burned hotter.

Jurian clapped him on the shoulder—the audacity—and drawled, “Now, why don’t you let go of me so we can go get your true mate back?”

Lucien froze.

His grip loosened.

His chest heaved.

“You…” His voice wavered. “You know where she is?”

Jurian rolled his eyes. “Umm, yes? I know everything, you moron.”

Lucien’s stomach dropped.

Jurian smirked. “She’s in the Summer Court. Opened up a new little shop, actually. Real cute setup. You’d love it.”

Lucien didn’t wait to hear the rest.

He was already moving—pushing past Jurian, heart racing, mind spinning, body desperate to get to her.

To fix this.

To see her.

“I messed up,” he breathed, cursing himself, cursing everything.

Jurian followed lazily, shaking his head. “Yeah, no shit.”

Lucien's claws pressed into his palms.

Midway, Jurian reached for his shoulder in some semblance of camaraderie.

Lucien shoved him off. Growled. "We will talk about this. You have a lot to explain."

Jurian sighed, exasperated. "See, this is exactly why I was debating whether to tell you in the first place."

Lucien shot him a warning look, but he didn't stop.

Couldn't.

His mate was out there.

And he was done waiting.

The Summer Court had been kind to Y/N. More than she had ever expected.

The warm breeze brushed through her hair as she walked through the quiet, lamp-lit streets, the scent of salt and citrus filling the air. The Summer Court was nothing like Velaris—there was no suffocating weight of what had been stolen from her here. No reminders of what she had lost.

Her fingers curled around the small bag she carried, the last of the day’s earnings from the shop tucked safely inside.

She had built something here. A quiet life. A peaceful one.

The distant hum of the ocean waves was a familiar comfort as she hummed softly to herself, her steps light against the cobbled path. This life—it wasn’t the one she had imagined, not the one she had once dreamed of when she thought she had a mate. But it was hers.

Maybe she was never meant to have a mate.

And that was fine.

It had taken a long time—too long—but she was finally learning to accept it.

That didn’t mean she had forgotten. That didn’t mean she had forgiven.

One day, she would have her revenge. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not even a year from now. But one day, when they least expected it, she would make sure Elain Archeron paid for what she had done.

But for now, patience. Peace.

She exhaled softly, shaking off the thoughts as she reached her home. The small cottage was modest, but it was hers, a place untouched by the ghosts of the past. With a hum, she dug out her key and slid it into the lock, twisting it open—

And froze.

Her humming died on her lips. Her breath caught in her throat.

Jurian was leaning against her kitchen table, a plate of freshly baked pastries in hand, biting into one like he had every right to be here.

And Lucien—Lucien was standing near the window, looking as if his entire world had just been ripped apart.

Jurian was the first to speak, still chewing, still as smug as ever.

“Oh, Y/N, dearest. Sorry for not telling you about our arrival beforehand. Things just… got a little messy.” He gestured vaguely, swallowing another bite of her food. “But you really should be more logical with where you keep your keys. I mean, under a flowerpot? Really?” He sighed, as if truly disappointed in her lack of caution. “Anyway, I believe you need no introduction to this guy.” He jerked his head toward Lucien. “He desperately needs to talk to you. Also—” He licked his fingers. “Delicious pastries, as always. Your cooking skills never cease to amaze me.”

Silence.

Y/N stared. Lucien stared.

And then, at the exact same time—

“You know him?!”

Jurian only grinned.

Lucien’s head snapped toward her, eyes wide. “You know her?!”

Jurian, the absolute bastard, only took a sip from his glass before placing it down and answering with complete nonchalance. “Oh, yes. Lucien, see, Y/N and I have been friends for over a year now. Since the moment I knew about the whole Cauldron drama, I made sure to visit her shop and get to know her. And we’re now the closest of friends, aren’t we, Y/N?” His smirk was absolutely infuriating. “As for Lucien, well, that’s a long story, really, but let’s just say—”

Jurian never got to finish his sentence.

Because the moment the words closest of friends left his mouth, Y/N snatched the nearest thing within reach—her wooden fruit bowl—and hurled it straight at his head.

Jurian dodged, but not fast enough. The bowl smacked his shoulder, and a few apples tumbled onto the floor.

“Friends?!” Y/N seethed. “Friends?!” She turned her glare on him, fists clenched. “You barge into my home, with someone you know I can’t be around, eat my food, and now—now you admit to being my friend because of some—some Cauldron what?! And you were friends with him this whole time too?!” She pointed an accusing finger at Lucien, her voice rising with every word. “I cannot believe you, Jurian. I really can’t. Friends aren’t like this!”

Lucien took a hesitant step forward. “Y/N—”

“Shut up!” she and Jurian snapped at the same time.

Lucien’s mouth shut instantly, his jaw tightening.

Y/N took a deep breath, nostrils flaring. She jabbed a finger toward the hallway. “Go into the other room. Now.”

Lucien’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. He turned and left without another word.

Jurian sighed dramatically, rubbing his temple. “You know, I really don’t get enough credit for all the effort I put into making people’s lives better.”

Y/N shot him a look that could have burned him alive. “What. The fuck. Did you do.”

Jurian raised his hands in mock innocence. “I fixed things.”

“You fixed things?” she echoed, voice dangerously low.

Jurian smirked. “Alright, fine. I didn’t. The Cauldron did. I just… helped speed things along.”

Her nails dug into her palms. “You better start talking. Now.”

Jurian only sighed, shaking his head. “You never did have any patience.”

Y/N reached for another throwable object.

Jurian immediately lifted his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright! Calm down, will you?” He glanced toward the hallway. “Just—just listen to him. Really listen. And then, then, you can kill me later. Deal?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “I make no promises.”

Jurian grinned. “That’s my girl.”

Y/N huffed, turning on her heel before she could strangle him, pacing toward the hallway. Behind her, she heard Jurian call out, “Lucien! You’re up!”

Her hands clenched. Her heart pounded.

And as she turned to face Lucien once more, she steeled herself for whatever was about to come next.

The moment Y/N stepped back into the room, she regretted it.

Lucien stood near the window, but his usual sharpness, his composed demeanor, was gone. His broad shoulders slumped forward, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. And then—her gaze finally took in the bandages wrapped around his shoulder blade, the stark white fabric stained with hints of red.

She hesitated. Swallowed hard. “What the hell happened?”

Lucien stiffened, like he hadn’t expected her to speak first. “It’s nothing.”

She narrowed her eyes but didn’t push. Not yet.

Instead, she moved further inside, closing the door behind her with a quiet click. Silence wrapped around them, thick and suffocating. It was unbearable—too many things left unsaid, too much anger simmering beneath her skin.

And then Lucien let out a long breath, sinking into one of the chairs, pressing his hands into his face, fingers dragging through his unkempt hair. He looked—defeated. Like the weight of the world had finally broken him.

Y/N crossed her arms. “What is going on?” she demanded. “Why are you two in my house? What the hell is happening?”

Lucien inhaled sharply, like he was bracing himself. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”

The words hit her like a whip.

She blinked. “What?”

His head lifted, and those amber eyes-so raw, so open in a way she had never seen before— locked onto hers. "I am so sorry for not knowing sooner."

She frowned, her heart beating just a little faster, even as confusion twisted through her. "Lucien, speak properly."

He exhaled. And then, barely above a whisper, he said it.

"You're my true mate."

Everything in her froze.

Her lungs forgot how to breathe, her body forgot how to move. It was like the world tilted beneath her feet, and she barely managed to remain standing.

The words repeated in her head over and over again, and yet she couldn't process them.

Couldn't believe them.

And then-a cold, bitter laugh escaped her lips.

Lucien's brows furrowed. "Y/N-"

"So she was right." Her voice dripped with ice.

Lucien looked at her as though she had lost her mind. "Who-"

"Elain," she spat. "She really did tell you, didn't she? That you were my true mate?"

Lucien's eyes widened, shaking his head. "No-"

But she cut him off, her voice rising. "No what?

No, you didn't believe her? No, you weren't disgusted by me like everyone else? Because that's exactly what she said. She told me that you knew. That you knew about the rumors. That you knew I was your mate and that you didn't care because you were repulsed by the idea of being tied to someone like me."

Lucien went still. A deadly, terrifying stillness.

"What did you just say?"

Y/N let out another cold laugh, but it didn't feel like laughter at all. "Don't act so shocked."

His voice darkened. "When did she come to your shop?"

She scoffed. "Two days before I left."

Lucien's entire body tensed. "She threatened you?" His voice was eerily calm, too calm, but there was an underlying rage in his tone that sent chills down her spine.

"She told me to leave," Y/N snapped. "Told me I didn't belong. That you were hers and that I needed to disappear. And guess what, Lucien?

Even here, I still can't escape her. Even here, she has eyes watching me. People attacked me because of her. Because of you."

Lucien shot to his feet so quickly the chair nearly toppled over. "What?"

YIN smirked cruelly. "Even here, I get no peace.

Even here, I am hunted because of the female you chose.”

Lucien's breathing was ragged now, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His jaw was tight, his golden eye burning with fury.

Then, in a raw, unsteady voice, he whispered, "I swear, I had no idea."

Y/N just stared at him.

"If I had known," Lucien continued, voice cracking, "I would have—fuck." He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling harshly. "I never felt the bond before. The Cauldron chose Elain. And I thought-" His throat bobbed. "I thought that was it."

Y/N's lips parted, a sliver of something other than anger creeping into her. "You-" She hesitated. "You didn't reject the bond?"

Lucien looked at her like she had gone insane.

"Reject it?" His laugh was humorless. "I never even knew it existed."

She blinked, trying to process his words.

"For a year," he went on, shaking his head, "I tried to make someone who isn't mine love me back. And this whole time—" He exhaled roughly. "It wasn't even her."

Y/N's stomach twisted. "What do you mean?"

Lucien's gaze softened, an aching kind of sadness filling his features. "It was the Cauldron that bound me to Elain." His voice was barely a whisper now. "I had no idea you were my true mate."

Y/N couldn't speak. Couldn't think.

Lucien took a step closer, as if drawn to her. "If I had known..." He trailed off, his throat working, his voice breaking. "If I had known, I would have-"

He didn't finish the sentence.

He didn't need to.

Because in that moment, Y/N finally understood.

For so long, she had carried this pain alone. Had believed herself abandoned, discarded by the one who was supposed to be hers. But Lucien... he hadn't known. He never knew.

And now?

Now, he did.

And it changed everything.

he tension in the room lingered even after their argument had settled into an uneasy silence. Y/N sat stiffly, arms crossed, glaring at Lucien, who still looked shaken. Jurian, leaning back against the worn-out chair, exhaled heavily before breaking the silence.

“I knew,” he said simply, voice quiet but certain. “From the moment Hybern found the Cauldron.”

Lucien’s head snapped up, his amber eyes narrowing. Y/N’s stomach twisted. “What?” she demanded.

Jurian nodded. “The moment I saw what the King was doing with the Cauldron—saw the way it was twisting fate—I knew something was wrong. I saw the bonds forming, the way the Cauldron was interfering with them. That’s when I knew.”

Y/N frowned, still processing. Lucien’s jaw tightened. “You knew about me and Y/N?”

“Yes,” Jurian admitted. “And I knew when the Cauldron forced the bond between you and Elain that it wasn’t real.”

Lucien sat back, looking dazed. Y/N gritted her teeth. “And yet you didn’t tell him.”

Jurian turned to her, gaze sharp. “Would he have believed me?”

Silence.

Jurian sighed. “That’s why I started searching for you, Y/N. I knew you were out there, and I knew you’d have the truth he needed to hear. I couldn’t just go to him with claims—I needed him to see for himself.”

Y/N clenched her fists. “For a hundred years, I felt the bond. I carried that knowledge alone, knowing my mate didn’t even know I existed. And then one day, the bond just… snapped.” Her throat tightened. “I thought you had broken it, Lucien. That you had known about me and rejected me.”

Lucien flinched. “I didn’t knowingly break it. I—I had no idea.”

“Right,” she scoffed, but there was exhaustion in her voice now.

“Right,” she scoffed, but there was exhaustion in her voice now.

Lucien dragged a hand through his hair. “I thought Elain was my mate. I never even considered the possibility of another. I never felt the bond before, not until the Cauldron forced one on me.” He looked at her then, eyes desperate. “I would never have ignored you if I had known.”

Silence stretched between them again, filled only by the weight of the truth settling over them.

But then Lucien suddenly stiffened, his mind catching on something. “Wait,” he muttered, looking at her sharply. “You said Elain hasn’t left you alone. That she has spies watching you—even here.”

Y/N exhaled sharply. “Yes. A few days ago, I had a run-in with some of them. They said things—things only Elain could have known. It was clearly a message from her.”

Jurian sat up straighter. “How did they look?”

Y/N frowned. “I don’t know. They wore dark cloaks. Concealed their faces.”

Jurian swore under his breath. “That’s not Elain.”

Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Right. And I should believe you?”

Jurian leaned forward, voice low and serious. “Trust me.” The weight of his tone made both of them pause, their gazes locking onto him. “Those weren’t Elain’s spies. They were something worse. Sages of the Cauldron.”

Y/N froze. “What?”

Lucien’s brows furrowed. “Sages?”

Jurian nodded. “They’re a faction that still worships the Cauldron. They protect what’s left of its power, and they sense when something unnatural happens. If they’ve been watching you, it’s because they felt something shift.” His eyes darkened. “Like a broken bond that wasn’t supposed to break.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted.

Lucien straightened, eyes burning with new intensity. “Then they’re a threat.”

Jurian shrugged. “More than that. They might try to interfere if they think the bond is being restored.”

Y/N swallowed hard. “So… what now?”

Lucien turned to her, his face unreadable. “I can still feel the bond. You can’t.”

She nodded.

His jaw tightened. “How do I restore it?”

Jurian exhaled through his nose. “You have to sever the Cauldron’s bond first. You have to break your tie to Elain completely.”

Silence fell again as both Y/N and Lucien absorbed that truth.

Lucien looked away, expression unreadable. Y/N sat rigidly, mind reeling.

So that was the answer. The reason she couldn’t feel it anymore. The Cauldron’s interference had severed her side of the bond. And the only way to fix it—

She let out a shaky breath.

Lucien was staring at the floor, his expression unreadable. But when he finally spoke, his voice was certain. “You’re right.”

Jurian stood suddenly, clapping his hands. “Then get up, both of you.”

Y/N and Lucien blinked at him.

Jurian smirked. “We’re going to Velaris.”

“No way in hell am I going back to that place ever again.”

YN’s voice rang through the room, sharp and unwavering.

Jurian sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Come on, YN—”

“Are you crazy?” she snapped, pacing furiously. “Do you even know what happened there? The rumors they spread about me? The lies? Elain practically controls everything over there. Her sister is the High Lady, her other sister is a Valkyrie. Do you think they’ll ever believe me? That they’ll ever like me?” She let out a bitter laugh. “They think I’m a traitor. That I betrayed them. That I was loyal to Hybern. And you—” she whirled on him, her anger burning through the room. “What is wrong with you, thinking I should just waltz back in there like none of that ever happened?”

Jurian’s jaw tightened, his patience wearing thin. “YN, I know what I’m doing—”

“Oh, do you?” she cut him off. “Because it seems like you’re just throwing me to the wolves.”

Jurian’s nostrils flared, his fists clenching at his sides. “You think I’d put you in danger? That I’d lead you somewhere you’d be torn apart without reason?” His voice was low, controlled, but there was frustration brimming beneath it. “I didn’t spend a whole year watching all this unfold just to push you into a losing battle.”

YN opened her mouth to snap back, but before she could, a voice—low, steady—cut through the tension.

“Enough.”

She froze, turning to see Lucien step forward. Jurian took a step back as Lucien came closer, his gaze fixed entirely on her. His golden eye flickered, his russet one locked onto hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch.

Then—so, so gently—he reached out, his fingers barely grazing her cheek. A featherlight touch, as if he feared she would flinch away, as if she were something delicate, breakable.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice raw with something she couldn’t quite name. “I want to feel our bond again. I want to be mated with you. I want you to feel the same. I want us to have what we were always meant to.” He swallowed, his fingers lingering against her skin. ���Do you want that with me?”

YN’s chest ached. She had spent a century convincing herself that this bond, this mate, was nothing but a cruel joke played by the Cauldron. That Lucien had known and broken it on purpose. That he had chosen Elain over her.

But here he was—standing in front of her, asking her if she wanted this. If she wanted him.

Her thoughts swirled, chaotic and tangled. The years of resentment, the pain of watching him from afar, of knowing and then suddenly not knowing—the bond ripped from her as if it had never existed.

And yet…

“Yes,” she whispered.

Lucien exhaled, his fingers twitching against her cheek, but she wasn’t finished.

“But,” she continued, her voice steadier now, “it’s not something that can be fixed overnight. It will take time. There’s too much history, too much—”

“I know,” Lucien murmured, his eyes searching hers. “But we can work through it. We will work through it. If we both give it a chance.” His thumb brushed along her jaw, just once, before he pulled back slightly. “I already know my answer, YN. I just needed to know yours.”

She met his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest, and with a slow exhale, she gave him what he was asking for.

“Yes,” she said again, firmer this time.

Lucien’s lips parted, something flickering in his expression—something warm, something relieved.

“Then we need to face them,” he said softly. “We need to prove to them that we’re in the right. That you were never the villain they made you out to be.”

YN’s throat tightened. “But—”

“There are no buts,” Lucien interrupted, his voice gentle but firm. “If we want them to see the truth, then we can’t keep hiding. We can’t keep letting Elain’s version of events shape the world’s perception of you.” His russet eye darkened. “And if anyone knows more about these bonds—about what the Cauldron did—it’s Rhysand. You may not trust him, but he’s the only one who might have real answers.”

YN hesitated, her fingers curling into fists at her sides.

From the corner of the room, Jurian was watching them with a smirk, arms crossed as if he had known this exact moment would happen.

She scowled at him, then let out a long breath before shifting her gaze back to Lucien.

“Fine,” she muttered. “But if anything goes wrong—if anything—” she jabbed a finger at Lucien’s chest, “you’re winnowing us out of there immediately.”

Lucien’s lips twitched. “You have my word, ma’am.”

Jurian clapped his hands together. “Perfect. Now, let’s go break some illusions.”

The moment Lucien winnowed them into the townhouse, Y/N barely had time to catch her breath before the scent of roasted meat and spiced wine hit her. The flickering glow of candles on the dining table illuminated the shocked faces of Feyre, Rhysand, and Elain—mid-dinner, forks frozen halfway to their mouths.

The silence lasted all of two heartbeats.

Then—

“What the hell?” Rhysand was on his feet in an instant, shadows curling around him as his violet eyes locked onto Y/N with a feral snarl.

Feyre shot up as well, stepping protectively in front of Elain. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, her gaze cutting to Lucien, to Jurian, and then back to Y/N.

Elain’s expression had brightened the second she saw Lucien, her brown eyes lighting up in relief, in happiness—Lu, you’re back— but then she saw Y/N.

The warmth drained from her face like a candle snuffed out. Her lips parted in surprise before curling into something sharp, something cold. “What is she doing here?”

Y/N clenched her fists.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Rhysand bit out, his power rippling through the room, the air thick with warning. His voice dipped into a growl. “Traitor's have no place in this city.”

Feyre’s hands clenched at her sides. “You betrayed us. You sided with Hybern—”

“I did not side with Hybern!” Y/N snapped, the words flying out before she could stop them.

“You expect us to believe that?” Elain’s voice was quiet, but full of venom. She lifted her chin. “After everything you did? The lies you told, the way you—”

“Don’t you dare,” Lucien cut in, his voice low, furious.

Elain blinked at him in shock. “Lucien, you—”

“I what?” Lucien stepped in front of Y/N, shielding her as he glared at Elain. “You think I’d just stand by and let you rewrite history?”

Elain’s face twisted, her usual soft demeanor fracturing into something hard. “You’re really choosing her over me?”

“Choosing truth over lies,” Lucien corrected, his russet eye burning with anger.

Y/N’s breath hitched. The sheer force of his protectiveness—his rage—made her head spin.

Elain flinched, but quickly masked it. “I don’t know what she’s told you—”

“Enough,” Jurian interrupted, stepping forward with a sigh, arms crossed. “Gods, you fae love the sound of your own voices.”

Rhysand snapped his gaze toward him, his power crackling in the air. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Jurian drawled. “Would you all just shut up for a moment?”

A tense silence settled over the room.

Rhysand’s expression darkened dangerously. “You think you can waltz into my home and speak like that—”

“Yes, actually,” Jurian cut in, entirely unfazed. “Since you all are so convinced of your own version of events, I thought it might be nice if, for once, someone told the truth in this godsdamned city.”

Feyre scoffed. “And you expect us to believe you?”

Jurian only smirked. “Oh, you will. Because this time, I have proof.”

Feyre hesitated. Rhysand’s brows furrowed slightly, as if considering whether it was worth listening at all. But Elain—Elain was already shaking her head, eyes wide with feigned innocence.

“This is ridiculous,” she said, voice trembling just enough to sound believable. “I never spread rumors about her. I never—”

“Cut the act, Elain,” Lucien snapped.

Elain flinched again, real hurt flashing across her face, but Lucien was unrelenting. “You knew exactly what you were doing,” he said, voice steady. “You wanted me to believe she was a traitor. You wanted all of them to believe it. And you succeeded, didn’t you?”

Elain’s lip trembled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Are you sure?” Jurian said, tilting his head. “Because I have some very interesting letters in my possession. Letters sent from a certain Archeron sister to certain key figures in Velaris.” He pulled a stack of parchment from his coat and held them up lazily. “Want to guess what they say?”

Feyre’s expression wavered, her gaze flickering to Elain. “What… letters?”

Elain paled. “I don’t know what those are.”

“Don’t you?” Jurian’s smirk widened. “Shall I read them aloud? Or do you want to admit it now, before I air all your dirty secrets in front of your precious family?”

Silence.

Elain’s hands clenched at her sides. Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths.

Then—Feyre turned to her, something cold creeping into her stare. “Elain…?”

Elain swallowed. “I—”

“You actually did this?” Feyre’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the air like a blade.

Elain’s composure finally cracked. “I—” She let out a breath, her hands shaking. “I had to! You don’t understand—”

“You had to?” Lucien’s voice was like ice. “You ruined her for what? So you could paint yourself as the innocent one?”

“I—” Elain’s voice hitched, and then, as if on instinct, she turned to Feyre. “Feyre, you believe me, don’t you?” Her eyes welled with tears, her lower lip trembling. “You know I would never—”

Feyre took a slow step back. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Silence pressed down on them all. Y/N barely felt like she could breathe, her chest tightening.

Then—

Rhysand exhaled sharply through his nose, his gaze like steel as he finally spoke.

“Into my office. Now.”

His voice was an order, absolute and final, his eyes cutting to Lucien, Jurian, and Y/N.

Lucien straightened, his face unreadable. Jurian gave a mocking little bow, a smirk still playing on his lips.

As for Y/N—she couldn’t stop herself from glancing back at Elain, who had slumped into a chair, face buried in her hands. Feyre stood over her, expression torn.

But before Y/N could process any of it, Lucien’s warm hand pressed against her back, guiding her forward.

They had won the first battle.

But the war had only just begun.

Rhysand leaned against his massive oak desk, arms crossed, violet eyes sharp with scrutiny as they landed on Y/N.

“Y/N.” The single syllable carried the weight of a century’s worth of accusations.

Y/N sighed. The room felt suffocating, and for a brief moment, she considered staying silent. But then—Lucien shifted slightly in front of her, his stance subtly protective, as if to remind Rhysand that no amount of power or authority would allow him to intimidate her now.

That small action settled something inside her.

So she met Rhys’s gaze head-on and spoke.

Rhysand’s Office – Truth Unraveled

Rhysand leaned against his massive oak desk, arms crossed, violet eyes sharp with scrutiny as they landed on YN.

“Y/N.” The single syllable carried the weight of a century’s worth of accusations.

Y/N sighed. The room felt suffocating, and for a brief moment, she considered staying silent. But then—Lucien shifted slightly in front of her, his stance subtly protective, as if to remind Rhysand that no amount of power or authority would allow him to intimidate her now.

That small action settled something inside her.

So she met Rhys’s gaze head-on and spoke.

“I knew about my mating bond with Lucien for a hundred years,” she said evenly. “I felt it snap into place the first moment I saw him. I felt it every day after that, the pull, the warmth, the… inevitability of it.” She inhaled sharply. “And then, one year ago, it broke.”

Rhysand didn’t react immediately, but his eyes darkened, assessing.

“I felt it break,” Y/N continued, her voice gaining strength. “One moment, it was there—the next, it was gone. At first, I thought it was something Lucien did. That he had chosen to reject it. The pain of that, of thinking he had knowingly severed what was between us…” Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “It nearly destroyed me.”

Lucien shifted closer, as if the memory of her pain was enough to stir his own anger all over again. “I never broke our bond,” he said, his voice tight, restrained. “I never would have.”

Rhysand studied him. “Then how do you explain—”

“I explain it like this.” Jurian cut in, dropping a thick stack of aged papers onto Rhys’s desk with a smug grin. “The Cauldron did a shit job with the whole mating business.”

Rhys arched a brow, unimpressed. “You’re expecting me to believe the Cauldron—one of the most powerful forces in existence—messed up?”

“I’m expecting you to read before you make an ass of yourself,” Jurian shot back. “But then again, making an ass of yourself seems to be your specialty.”

Rhys’s jaw ticked, but he ignored him—for now. He flicked a hand, and the papers lifted into the air, pages flipping on their own. His eyes scanned the documents, and for the first time since they arrived, a flicker of uncertainty passed over his face.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never questioned it,” Jurian went on. “Lucien is mated to Elain—a female who can barely stand to be in the same room as him? And you? Your mating bond appeared at the exact moment Feyre needed you most?” He gestured lazily to Y/N and Lucien. “But these two? They felt the bond for a century, only for it to be ripped away the second Elain entered the picture?”

Rhysand said nothing, but the way his brows furrowed slightly told Y/N that he was at least considering the possibility.

“The Cauldron doesn’t make mistakes,” Rhys finally murmured, but there was doubt in his tone now.

Jurian snorted. “The Cauldron also created Hybern, Koschei, and—oh, I don’t know—every cursed thing to ever walk this world. I wouldn’t exactly call it flawless.”

Rhys exhaled slowly, setting the papers down. “This is… a long argument.”

“No shit,” Jurian quipped.

Rhys shot him a dry look before turning back to Y/N. “And you?” His voice was quieter now. “You believe all of this?”

Y/N lifted her chin. “I believe that what I felt was real. That what Lucien and I still feel is real.” She hesitated. “And I believe that Elain—your Elain—ruined my life. She threatened me in my own shop. Pretended to be a friend, only to turn out to be a foe."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Rhysand took his time processing. Then, slowly, he straightened, stepping toward them—

Only for Lucien to subtly shift again, his body angled just enough to block any further approach.

Rhys paused. A flicker of something—maybe amusement, maybe understanding—crossed his face before he exhaled sharply. “Look,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “I apologize, Y/N.”

Her breath caught.

“But Elain is my family, too,” he continued, his voice measured. “And when I was faced with choosing between believing her—the soft, kind sister—and you, the one who had already been painted as a traitor, what choice did I have?” His gaze was piercing, like he was daring her to challenge him. “Rumour or not, as a High Lord, I take the safety of my people seriously. When I was told you were a traitor—”

“Oh, please,” Jurian groaned, rolling his eyes. “Spare us the ‘noble High Lord’ speech. You believed her because it was easy to believe her. And because you’re an arrogant prick.”

Rhys’s lips curled into a slow, predatory smirk. “No wonder after all these years, I still hate you, you insufferable sea urchin.”

Jurian placed a hand over his heart. “And yet, you still haven’t drowned me. Must be love.”

Y/N almost laughed. Almost.

Instead, she turned back to Rhysand, who was watching her again. “If you wish to say anything to Elain,” he said carefully, “you can. But I give you my word, we will deal with her.”

Y/N hesitated.

Then, she shook her head. “No.” Her voice was quiet. “Just tell her… that I pity her. And that I hope, someday, she finds peace.”

Lucien stiffened beside her, and even Rhys’s expression faltered for a moment.

Finally, the High Lord nodded. “Very well.” He crossed his arms again. “Now, let’s discuss what happens next.”

Y/N’s spine locked.

“You will be compensated,” Rhys continued. “And you are welcome in Velaris again. If you and Lucien wish to restore your bond—”

Lucien didn’t move.

Rhys sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fine. Compensation, freedom, all of that—done. But I assume you’ll need time to adjust?”

Y/N studied him. Then, slowly, she said, “I’ll decide on that myself.”

Rhysand smirked. “Fair enough.”

Lucien still didn’t relax, but Y/N found herself… lighter. Not at peace, not entirely. But lighter.

And for now, that was enough.

A year later, Y/N never thought this would be the life she was living now.

For a hundred years, she had carried the ache of an unfulfilled bond, the pain of watching her mate exist in another court, seemingly unknowing of her. And for one year, she had lived with the grief of thinking that bond had been shattered forever.

But now?

Now, she woke up each morning with the weight of Lucien’s arm wrapped around her waist, his breath warm against her skin, his presence as solid and certain as the rising sun. Now, the world was bright—vivid—colors she had forgotten seemed to have seeped back into her life, as if the bond’s return had repainted everything she saw.

It hadn’t been an easy road. Rhysand had helped them restore the bond—not out of guilt (though there was plenty of that) but because, deep down, he knew he had made a mistake. They had traveled across courts, met with creatures even Amren would hesitate to cross. The process had been slow, painstaking, but with every step, with every new piece they uncovered, something between her and Lucien clicked back into place.

And then—one day—it simply snapped back.

The moment it did, she had felt it, as if the universe had taken a deep breath and exhaled in relief. And when she looked into Lucien’s eyes—his real, warm, knowing eyes—she saw everything she had ever wanted staring right back at her.

At first, they took things slow.

Lucien came with her to the Summer Court, choosing to leave behind the baggage of his past and start anew beside her. They rebuilt their lives, not as broken pieces forced back together, but as two fae learning each other all over again—this time, without the weight of uncertainty, without the ghosts of what-if's haunting them.

Jurian, of course, refused to let them be too happy without his interference. He bought a home nearby just to be annoying, dropping in at the worst possible times.

Y/N had taken the compensation Rhysand offered—not as a favor, but as what was owed—and built something of her own. She had a place now, a home she had made with Lucien, a life that felt like it was hers again.

Their bond grew stronger with every passing day, deepening with shared experiences, whispered conversations under the stars, stolen kisses in the sunlit waters of Summer.

And when they finally gave in—fully, completely—when they stopped holding back…

The mating frenzy was ruthless.

YN chuckled just thinking about those months—months where they couldn’t be apart for longer than a minute, where just being in separate rooms felt wrong. Months where Jurian had been kicked out of their home more times than she could count, storming off with a string of curses because for the love of the gods, could you two just keep your hands off each other for one damn second?

(No, they could not.)

Lucien had proven to be as romantic as he was insatiable.

He left notes for her everywhere, tucked between bookshelves, slipped beneath her pillow, hidden in the folds of her clothes. Some were sweet—I love you more than words can say. Others were mischievous—I’d rather be tangled up with you in bed than doing whatever the hell I’m doing right now.

He woke her with kisses, pressed flowers into her palms for no reason other than to see her smile, whispered mine against her skin like it was a prayer.

He danced with her in the moonlight, slow and unhurried, even when there was no music. He traced the lines of her hands, the curve of her cheek, as if memorizing every inch of her, as if he still couldn’t believe she was real.

And when she woke up from old nightmares, from memories of pain and betrayal, he was always there—his hands steady, his voice soothing, his love unwavering.

As for Elain…

She got what she deserved.

Rhysand and Feyre had not taken kindly to the deception, to the lies that had unraveled their court’s foundation. It hadn’t been a harsh punishment—not exile, not death. But Elain had been stripped of the privileges she had grown accustomed to, forced to reckon with the consequences of her actions.

Even Nesta, cold and sharp as she was, had sent Y/N an apology. A simple letter. No excuses, no justifications—just acknowledgment of the wrongs done to her.

But none of that mattered anymore.

Because YN was here. Living.

A warm hand curled around her wrist, pulling her from her thoughts.

Lucien’s molten gaze met hers, a soft smirk playing on his lips. “You’re thinking too much again.”

She huffed a laugh. “And you’re distracting me again.”

His fingers traced slow circles against her skin. “That’s my job, isn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered as he pulled her against him, his arms caging her in, his warmth seeping into her.

And as he kissed her, slow and deep, she thought—

This.

This is what it was always meant to be.

“You are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.”

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Taglist: @forever-paramore28 @jaybbygrl @xxemmarldxx @theravenphoenix26 @moonlwghts @circe143 @rcarbo1 @onebadassunicorn @casey1-2007 @bambistuffsblog

[girlusional]

Can you get out of the room? - LADS

You asked him to leave the room so you could change your clothes, but he reminded you that you both were married and had children. (I saw some couples doing this on TikTok).

pairing: Zayne x You, Xavier x You, Rafayel x You, Sylus x You, Caleb x You (Female reader)

warnings: pet names (babe, love...), sex mention, suggestive phrases

w:1576k

Zayne

It was a lovely Sunday evening. After a long week, you finally had a chance to have Zayne with you again, a rare occasion due to his hard work in the hospital. 

He was reading a book on bed, waiting for you to get ready so you can go out to eat at your favorite restaurant. The bedroom was very peaceful, the only noises being the cars outside and the My Little Pony opening song coming from the living room, where your daughter is. 

You just got out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, when you saw him reading and decided to test something you saw on the internet.

“Love, can you get out of the room, please? ” Your voice sounded innocent as you began to open your drawers. “I need to change my clothes”.

You turned to look at him and saw that he was staring at you over his glasses, looking confused. “Pardon?”

“Well, I need to put on some clothes and I am a bit shy to change in front of you.” You said, squeezing your arms around your body to keep the towel covering you. “You know… I am a bit embarrassed.” 

A playful smile appeared on your lips as you saw his frowned face.

“I don’t understand why you want me to leave the room.” He answers, closing the book and taking his glasses off. Then he stood up, walking towards you at a slow pace. His shirt has the first two buttons open, and his belt is open as well.

“Because I don’t want you to look.” He almost laughs at your answer, looking at you, dumbfounded.

Suddenly, he called your daughter's name, who appeared at the door after some minutes. She was only four and was wearing a blue dress, matching Zayne’s shirt color, ready to go out with you, so she looked at you a bit confused when she saw your body still wrapped in the towel. “Mommy is not ready?” 

“Mommy is being difficult.” Zayne forces a sad expression, walking towards the little girl and patting her head. “Tell her to hurry up.”

“Hurry up mommy!” Your daughter runs again to the living room and Zayne smiles, looking at you. 

“Do I have to remind you how babies are made?” You blush slightly when he smiles mischievously, leaning against the door. “But once you asked, I will leave the room and make our little angel company”.

Xavier

It was your time to take a shower, so Xavier was taking care of your son while you were enjoying your bath, massaging yourself with the liquid soap. When you ended your bath, you walked to the bedroom and saw Xavier with the baby in his arms.

“Babe, can you get out of the room?” The blonde man looked at you, confused. 

“Why? Did I do something wrong?” You opened a tender smile to him and chuckled, getting some clothes in the drawers. 

“No, of course not. I just want to change my clothes.”

Xavier looked at you, then his eyes found the baby in his arms. One moment later, he looked at you again. “You know… that I already saw everything, right?” 

You blush, looking away to cover your face. “Shut up… I just need some privacy…”

“If it is something with your body, stop overthinking. You are as gorgeous as ever.” You looked at him, and for a moment you didn’t know if you wanted to kiss him or to throw a pillow on him. 

It was just a joke, a prank that you saw some couples doing on the internet, you didn’t know he would say something like this.

“And don’t you remember what happened fifteen minutes ago that woke him up?” You widen your eyes, feeling your cheeks getting hotter.

“Xavier!”

You two listened to the baby laughing, and you couldn’t help but smile too.  “You… silly.” Xavier opened a warm smile at your words.” 

He kissed your forehead before he began to walk away from you. “I will get his pacifier. Maybe he can sleep again, and we can…” Xavier glanced at you.

That 's it. You got a pillow and threw it at Xavier, making him run out of the room, laughing out loud.

Rafayel

One morning, Rafayel was helping your son with the art homework, and both of them sat on the carpet of the bedroom.

You saw that cute and pacific scene in front of you and smiled, seeing your husband so excited to teach your little boy. A perfect time…

“That's it, my little bubble, now if you mix yellow and red…”

A perfect time for a prank.

“Babe, let's go to the swimming pool… it's so hot today.” You say, innocent, seeing your son's eyes shining bright with the excellent idea.

The boy closed the notebook and ran to his own bedroom, and Rafayel chuckled.

“Fine, let's relax a bit, maybe after that he can sleep early and I will have you just to myself.” He stood up and wrapped his arms around your waist, giving your neck a peck.

“We will have a lot of fun, but now can you get out of the room? I need to put on my bikini.”

Rafayel frowned, confused. “What? Why do I need to get out?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling softly. “I am feeling a bit shy today, so I didn't want you to see.”

The artist raised an eyebrow at your comment.

“Love, do I have to remind you how we made that little boy?” He kissed your cheek. “It was raining when I held you and…”

“Shush!” Your face was almost burning up, as red as a tomato. “I remember.”

He chuckled again, caressing your hip slowly.

“Good, then I don't have to remind you about how…”

“Daddy! Where are my swim goggles?”

Rafayel stopped, looking at the door.

“Have you looked in your drawer?” He answered, looking at you. “I will help him.”

Sylus

It was your birthday and Sylus promised a “family day” to you, as you asked for. 

While you were drying your hair, he was helping your younger daughter to dress up. A moment later, he walked into your bedroom and saw you choosing an outfit. 

“Love, can you get out of the room?” Sylus frowned. “Why would I?”

“I want to change my clothes, so I will need to take off the one I am wearing.”

Sylus looked at your covered body, then at your face. “It’s not a big deal. You can change in front of me.”

“No, I am embarrassed.” You answer, lying. You just wanted to test the prank you saw on the internet.

“Embarrassed of what?” He scoffed.

“Changing my clothes in front of you.” He blinked, totally confused, then called three names, making his deep voice reach all the house.

Two children runned into your bedroom, the twins, who were already dressed up, then your younger daughter walked in slowly, since she was still learning how to walk.

“Trust me, kitten, I saw your body a lot of times already.” 

One of the twins frowned, saying “Ew! Mommy and Daddy are flirting!” You looked at the kid, poking his nose. “We are not!”

Sylus was smiling charmingly. “Of course we are…” He walked towards you and held your hand, giving it an affectionate kiss.

“Will we have another sibling?” You almost choked when the child said it out of the blue. “What? Where did you get this idea from?”

“Daddy told us that to make a baby he has to kiss your hand…” One of the twins said. “I want one more sister!” The other said as well.

You looked at Sylus, who was trying to hide his smirk against your hand. 

“Everyone… get out of here!” You shouted at them. Sylus laughed, holding both of the twins in his arms when he escaped from the bedroom, letting just you and your daughter. “Can you believe it?” You ask the little girl, who smiled cheerfully. “No, you are not going to have a new sibling.” You said, picking her up. 

Caleb

“Captain Marshmallow to Captain Daddy, are you listening to me?” You frowned, amused, as you saw your daughter and your husband playing spies in your bedroom, rolling on the bed and running around the room.

“I am, Captain Marshmallow. Leader Mommy just arrived from work. We need to greet her.” Caleb said as he picked the little girl in his arms. “Let's go.”

You smiled, kissing the girl's head before doing the same with Caleb's lips. “How are my ‘Captains’?” The question was almost a joke, but you saw your husband laughing.

“She watched a lot of movies.”

“Daddy! We can use the bubble guns to play!" The girl ran out of the room, letting you and Caleb all alone.

“How are you, my dear?” He hugged you tightly.

“Tired, but I am good.” You smiled, feeling a bit better. “I need to change my clothes, can you get out of the room, babe?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why? It's not like I never saw you naked before, you know…”

You poke his arm, blushing. “I just need some privacy.”

He laughed, seeing your daughter running back to the bedroom with two bubble guns on hands.

“I will give you ten minutes.” He winks, looking at you. “So hurry up, or I will have to keep you here for more than that.”

[qcatter]

A Nightmare

i hate tumblr it hates me, and nothing posts ever. on that note i was up all night haunted by Mer prowl who has seizures instead of crashes and wrote this whole thing out on my phone and it's 6 in the morning now help. why are word limits a thing even with readmores!!!> prowl is in a horror story while jazz waits eagerly for his buddy cop escapes heist can start. (prowl is in actual hell as an angel meeting a demon who's twisted like a horror funhouse mirror until he's barely recognizable as the same thing as you once.) @keferon like a cat bringing a dead fish.

Prowl sighed, swimming through the bright surface waters.  The chances of closing this missing persons case were *abysmal*.  Nothing to go on, not even a clue to just when he went missing.  Tracking down a missing mer through word of mouth out in the wilds from half (and sometimes full) feral mers.  The case was cold long before it had been handed to him.  Missing for possibly an entire moon before someone noticed and reported it.  

Prowl breached for a moment to get a lung full of fresh air and to scan the rocky coastline.  The leopard seal mer he encountered had been more concerned about Prowl leaving their territory than giving anything approaching general directions, let alone *accurate* ones.  Swim that a way for a day, zig zag through that reef, and the island with a bay that has a rock jutting out of the water that looks like a shark had a mer *cliff jumping* from impossible highs and landing into the reef a hundred feet away. 

 Completely insane and utterly deranged if not for the fact that Brainstorm was in fact, a flying fish, and was last reported working on upgrading his water pulpusion jet swim assist to work in the air. Not that he could have been leaping off of these cliffs.  The shear drop made them unclimbable,  let alone from the bay as the slope would be utterly exhausting to drag oneself up the - oh, that rock *does* look like a shark.  Well nobody said Brainstorm was anything but incredibly focused on his projects.  It did not change the fact he was not here *now*, and likely and run off after whatever flight of fancy he got caught up in. 

 It better not be humans again.  The wildlife laws protected them from getting captured or experimented on, but some mer alway got it in their head to mess with things better left alone.  Humans were dangerous, known for catching and killing massive amounts of sealife, from shrimp to great whales.  Rather ironic, as Orcas such as Prowl had a similar reputation.  A supposed genius like Brainstorm surely wouldn't have... he absolutely saw a boat or a human splashing on the shoreline and had to go poke it.  

Giving a few loud clicks to map out the shoreline. Prowl checked it against the list of human habituated island.  This one wasn't, but a boat migratory routed passed within a few miles of here.   Prowl couldn't help but grin to himself.  It might not be the best lead, but it was one that didn't involve speaking with witnesses that didnt want to talk.  Soon Prowl would be able to find what little tide pool Brainstorm had gotten himself stuck in, and get back to civilization.

Lightening flashed across the night sky, Prowl flinched back below the surface, blinking away pain and blind spots. The very air felt heavy, pressing down like the deep sea crushed organs.  Every time he went up to breathe it felt more like drowning.  Flipping back under the boat he hooked his claws back into its' belly plating.  From the tips of his fingers to the ends of his tail, he *ached* . City patrols at least had time to rest.  Trailing boats at a distance during the day was tiring, but at night it was child's play.  Humans could spot a whale breach halfway to the horizon when it was light out, but would miss him right under their noses the moment the sun went down.  The sea and storm rolled, and Prowl let it rock and cradle him against the boat.  It was nostalgic.  Comforting memories of being pressed against his mother's belly while resting growing muscles from endless swimming.  Water going from fighting every moment to easing soreness when you gave in and drifted.  His claws were numb. The ocean pulled, the humans howled and chattered to each other over head. The air was heavier than the sea and hurt to breathe, hurt to *think*.  Waves crested and caught the light of their lanterns, shattering it in the water like glass.  His hands started to shake.  The boat screamed a horrible screeching hiss as the humans all barked at it, a terrible symphony with the song of the storm. His aching tail went tense and stiff and his fins started to uncontrollably tremble.  Prowl shoved himself away from the boat and let sea hold him in its' imbraise as he fought his own muscles to grab ahold of his pendant.  The chain snapped but he managed to click the dispenser twice.  Shoving the two oily pills into his mouth he struggled to swallow past his swollen tongue.  One popped under his teeth filling his mouth with greasy oily bitterness. He gagged. A fresh mouthful of salt water washed some of it away.  Tasting salt, medication, and blood he finally managed to swallow as the waves rolled him against sand.

Everything hurt.

It was dry. The light was too bright. A howling barking collection of seals wouldn't shut up. Each noise sending stabs of pain into his head as they got closer. Something shuffled in the sand near him as a wave of water poured over him.  Something was touching him. *Hands* were touching him! With a sudden jerk as he was rolled over, Prowl awoke.

Hands were holding his face as water was poured over scrapes and gashes along his body. Blood trickled over fingers with dulll blunt flat claws as it leaked from his tongue.  A human face swam in and out of focus, muttering sounds and pointing tools.  It frowned at him. Then starting barking orders before clicking a light and shinning it at directly into his eyes.  The pain blooming from his eyes into his skull had him thrashing as humans shouted and pulled on top of him in an effort to pin him down. Vision blurred and spotting left him defenseless as a sudden pricking bite hit him and he knew no more.

Prowl awoke in a white void.

He drifted in the center.

The water tasted of salt, clean, empty and wrong.  Clicking sonar showed that it was a small room. Two thirds water, one third air.  The walls were flat and empty, as was the floor. Save for vents and light. Surfacing showed the oddly high ceiling to much of the same, save for a small flat shore and a door.  Flipping to dive Prowl stopped. Floating facing the floor, Prowl reached out and touched it, then stretched his tail. It breached the surface. One, two strokes of his tail as he swam to touch wall to wall. He turned.

One, two. 

Less powerful stokes let him do it in five. Swimming in a circle had him scrapping against the sides unless he went carefully and slowly.  Even the air was wrong. It stank of oils and grease and chemical and fish and ranked of animals.  Purgatory may have been aptly named.

A click and a clang. Prowl surfaced. The door on the shore opened. Two humans entered, grinning and chittering to each other. One stayed back while the other approached with a bucket of fish. Prowl stared, silently and flicked his tail in line order to face it directly.  It placed down its' bucket and bent down on its' strange legs and smiled at him. He bared his teeth back.  He was already cornered and caught, he refused to back down. Prowl was a killer whale, he would not shy from this thing. It grinned and begin wave a fish taunt him with it. He lined himself up slowly, holding eye contact as he floated perfectly still and perfectly pointed straight forward unblinking.  

The human rose, and began reach for the bucket. One, two. Prowl burst from the water and sank his teeth into flesh. The taste blood and fat filled his mouth as screams filled his ears. He held it down.  Digging his claws into loose false skin until they pierced the true one. Nothing Prowl caught ever escaped from him.  Something popped and pain popped against his side. Throwing himself off and back into the water he yanked the little anemone biter off of himself. It was a needle. The lights rippled and the voices swam. Prowl... drifted.

Prowl awoke in a blank white room. 

He floated in the center. The water tasted of salt, clean, blood and *wrong*.  The room was small, barely more water than air. The air smelled of chemicals, burning the inside of his mouth as he scented it. The flat shore recked of it. It was empty expect for a few stray drops of blood and an over turned bucket of fish.  Beaching himself, Prowl drug himself painstakingly slowly, one hand at a time, over to the door. The handle refused to turn.  Slaming himself against the metal only left him with bruises. After chipping his claws to till the quicks bled he finally stopped screaming. Instead he turned back to the fish, dragging himself back and begain to pick through it and began picking the bones clean. Nearly all were un prepped and raw, save one. A small mackerel had a small slit cut in it.  He swallowed it whole and gagged as the trace bitterness of meds bit his tongue and desperately tried to keep everything he ate down. He failed. Leaving the mess and the pile of bones Prowl return to the pool.

Prowl awoke in a small white room. 

He floated lopsided in the center. The water tasted of salt, clean and wrong. His fins were scraped raw. Paint had been chipped from the walls. (One, two, wall) Faint brown stains left where ever the water did not reach. Prowl did not remember making the fourth one. (One, two, wall) The lights were too bright. They never fully went out. (One, two, wall) Some machinery thrumbed and throbbed in his head.  He ached. The door buzzed and clicked. A human brought a bucket of fish inside and left it on the flat beach. His fins shook. The door closed and clicked. Prowl pressed his face into a corner and tried to block out more light with his hands but then the sounds roared louder.  He seized.

Prowl awoke in a dim dark room. 

He floated in the center peacefully. The water tasted of salt, clean, and wrong.  The spot where they injected him was sore and inched. His hands were sore from scraping them against the rock. His belly hurt from dragging it on the ground.  The lights brightened. The door buzzed and clicked. A human came in and slowly tossed fish in frount of him one by one as he ate them. He left the bones on the bottom of the pool.  The fish tasted wrong. The door closed and clicked. The lights stayed on until he fell asleep.

Prowl awoke in small white room. 

It tasted of salt and the waste and remnants of fish and wrong.  He flicked a bone at the door. It hit dead center. The door buzzed and clicked. A human came in with a bucket of fish. It tossed him a fish. He ate it. It tossed him another one. The next went high and he caught it. It threw the fourth into one of the corners. Prowl didn't even turn to look as he stared the human down. The human sighed and tossed another just over his head. He had to reach up to catch it. The human grinned. It tossed the next one even higher. Prowl had to halfway breach in order to get it. The human howled and chattered at him. It started swinging a fish back and forth before launching it straight up. Prowl stared the human down without moving a muscle while the fish landed with a plop a few feet behind. He did not move. The human did not throw anymore fish. Prowl shoved the bones into the filtration intakes.

Prowl awoke in a clean white room.

He floated calmly in the center.

The water tasted fresh, of salt, clean and wrong.  There was a hammock hanging in the water.  It felt familiar. Prowl wasn't sure if he had ever seen it before. He swam into it. It wasn't soft, but it was sturdy. A familiar dark kelp green that perfectly cradled his body with holes for him to fit his flippers in.   The hammock was too low in the water for him to comfortly lay with his head above water. With a long suffering sign he wiggled and twisted around till he was sitting up enough to lay his head on the metal pole.  The frabic was rough and hurt where his skin was soft and sore, but it was the softest thing in this room and he missed his at home.  Where he wasn't trapped and could cook his food and turn the lights off all the time and sleep in a soft woven hammock properly for hours at a time rather than constant small naps. The door buzzed and clicked. A human came in holding a bucket of fish and a long stick with a ball on the end. It stopped and stared at him. He stared back. It wailed at him and began chittering in annoyance. It waved a fish. Then tapped the other side of the shore with the pole. With a sigh Prowl pulled himself from the hammock and gave a gentle swish of his tail to reach over and grab the fish. The human tapped the hammock and dropped a fish on it.  After Prowl wiggled back onto it the human tapped its stick on the other side of the room and waited.  Prowl went over and tapped the spot. It was almost like a form of communication. Maybe if he could manage to get something across besides bared teeth and lunging, were clicks and whistles weren't.  Prowl tried tapping. The human just handed him his fish and tapped a spot way up on the shore. This was the stupidest thing Prowl had ever done. But unless he went where they tapped, it would refuse to give him the fish.  Nothing was working. Attempts at tapping and placing his fish down, throwing the fish and draging him self over to it and tapping, tapping and leaving to see if the human would go there. Nothing!  Tired and with his belly scrapped raw Prowl rolled off the shore and unto the hammock and wiggled until he had his head pressed up against the side. The human babbled at him and tossed him a few extra fish.  Prowl threw his own arm over his face and for the first time, managed a deep sleep.

Prowl awoke in that hammock with the worse crick in his neck and waist from where he was bent over himself. He slept on the shore the next day.

They took the hammock.

Prowl awoke in a small white room. He floated just above the bottom. The water tasted of salt.  He wondered if it was worth surfacing. The door buzzed and clicked. A group of humans came in. They brought the hammock back and set it up. One tapped it with the pole. Prowl swam in.  It handing him a fish and tapped the pole again and handed him a second one. The hammock lifted from the water and Prowl struggled not to squirm as he was held in the air.  Hands brushed along him through the frabic and down his tail. One pair grabbed his fin and pricked it with a needle. Just as suddenly they backed up, barked at each up and lowered him back. They gave him the rest of the bucket and left him there. Alone, in a hammock. This time it was high enough to layout and rest his head. Prowl slept.

Prowl awoke in a Hammock in a bright white room. It was the only thing in there besides himself.  The lights pulsed. He drug himself to shore and shook stiffly through his seizure. He stared fixed at the one brown splatter of dots on the wall that looked like a fish hook. The door buzzed and slammed opened and humans rushed in and started pawwing at him. They shoved him down and rolled him into the hammock and lifted him through the doors. Frozen and shaking he watched. Down halls and past many doors until they reached a room that smelled so strongly of chemicals he could taste it through his blood.  The humans frantically yelled and barked until finally after one of the needles they jabbed him with made him black out.

Prowl awoke In a small white room

The fish tasted different, but in a familiar way. The bitterness matched that of when he would bite through his perscription. The water still tasted wrong.

Prowl drifted and awoke.

The humans would try to make him follow the pole where they tapped it, and jump for his fish. He often would not.  It was easier not to but there wasn't enything else. There was nothing to do but drift after listening to his own screams ringing in the silence. 

So Prowl drifted.

[slavicdolls4mangione]

luigi supporting you making content on tiktok hc 💌:

shoutout to the anon who got my vision, this one’s for you! <33 as you can probably tell, i went HAM on this one 😭

- luigi hates tiktok. he finds it overwhelming, chaotic, and way too fast-paced for his taste. he’s more of a ‘read a book in silence’ kind of guy, so the idea of endless scrolling and loud trends just doesn’t appeal to him.

- that said, when you tell him you’ve started a tiktok account to talk about your favorite things—books, philosophy, movies, debates on different topics, and even your hot takes on agriculture and politics? he’s immediately intrigued.

- he loves how passionate and articulate you are, and he can’t help but admire the way your mind works.

- despite his dislike for the app, he downloads it just to follow you. he tells himself it’s to “support you,” but deep down, he’s genuinely curious about what you’ll share.

- your videos are nothing like the content he expected. you’re not doing dances or trends, you’re just yapping lol. you talk about your favorite substack articles, analyze the themes of your latest read, rant about why tea is superior to coffee (or vice versa), and even dive into deep topics like religion and politics. safe to say, luigi is hooked.

- he becomes your biggest hype man. every time you post he’s there in the comments, leaving thoughtful responses. if you talk about a book he’s read, he’ll add his own analysis. if you delve into a philosophical concept, he’ll write paragraphs agreeing with you or gently challenging your perspective. his comments are often longer than your videos, and it becomes a running joke between the two of you.

- sometimes, you catch him in the background of your vlogs, quietly sipping tea or reading a book. he’s always smiling softly as you rant about whatever’s on your mind, completely enamored by your passion and intellect.

- one day, while filming a tiktok about your favorite philosophy book, lu chimes in from the background. you’re mid-sentence, explaining why you love the author’s take on existentialism, when he casually interjects:
“but don’t you think their view on free will is a little too optimistic?”
you pause, turn to him, and immediately launch into a spirited debate. the camera keeps rolling, and your followers lose it over the unexpected cameo.

- after that, it becomes a recurring thing. your followers start noticing that the same soft-spoken voice in the background that’s always adding thoughtful commentary or playfully challenging your takes, is the same person leaving those long comments under every video.

- comments start flooding in like:
“wait, is the guy in the background the same guy who writes essays in the comments???”
“luigi_from_fiji in the comments vs. luigi in the background is the best character arc of 2024.”
“the way he just casually drops the most profound takes while she’s filming… i can’t. they’re adorable.”

- one of your most popular tiktoks is a video where you’re talking about your favorite coffee shops, and ofc luigi interjects in the background:
“but tea is clearly superior. it’s more versatile, and you can’t deny the cultural history behind it.”
you stop mid-sentence, turn to him, and say, “oh, we’re doing this again?” before launching into a full-blown debate about coffee vs. tea. the video ends with both of you laughing, and your followers absolutely melt.

- one day, you decide to make a video about one of your favorite authors, fyodor dostoyevsky (self indulgent sorry). you’re gushing about how crime and punishment explores the psychology of guilt and redemption but halfway through your analysis, lu, who’s been quietly listening in the background, can’t help but chime in:
“but baby don’t you think raskolnikov’s redemption arc feels a little rushed? i mean, after everything he did, the ending almost feels… too neat.”
you turn to him, eyes lighting up, and say, “okay, first of all nicholas, how dare you,” before diving into a passionate defense of dostoyevsky’s writing. the two of you end up in a full-blown literary debate, with lu arguing that notes from underground is the better psychological study, while you insist that crime and punishment is the masterpiece.

- your followers go wild for the video with comments pouring in like: “luigi coming in with the hot takes on dostoyevsky?? i’m obsessed.”
“the way she said ‘how dare you’ and then immediately launched into a 10-minute rant… mood.”
“luigi’s face when she starts defending raskolnikov is priceless. he’s so whipped.”

- another time, you’re talking about white nights and how the dreamer’s idealism and loneliness resonate with you. lu, who’s been quietly reading in the corner, looks up and says softly:
“i think the dreamer’s problem is that he’s too afraid to live in the real world. he’d rather stay in his fantasies than risk getting hurt.”
you’d pause, tilt your head, and reply, “but isn’t that what makes him so human? he’s flawed, but he’s real.”

- lu smiles at you, his eyes soft, and says, “i guess i can’t argue with that.”

-the moment is so tender that your followers immediately start spamming the comments with:
“THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER??? I’M CRYING.”
“luigi’s a simp for intellectual debates and i’m here for it.”
“this is the most romantic thing i’ve ever seen.”

- luigi secretly starts to enjoy tiktok but only because of you. he’d do anything to support you, even if it means spending hours on an app he claims to dislike.

[tommiib]

The Mistake We Keep Making ~ P.SH

warnings: angst, suggestive, depressed reader, infidelity, cheating, self hatred, toxic hwa.

wc: 1.5k

Just a little drabble.. I hope you enjoy!

How did you end up here? Naked. Vulnerable. Sticky.

It’s a tale you’re all too familiar with, a story that should have ended long ago—one that should have never begun. You know it’s wrong, but you can’t help it. Not when he smiles at you like you’ve made his day, not when he brings you lunch during your grueling study sessions, not when he’s between your legs, devouring you like you’re his last meal, whispering how beautiful you are, how sweet you taste, how good you feel. Not when he looks up at you with hooded eyes, bottom lip quivering as he spills into you. Not when you collapse into each other, bodies tangled, drowning in a high you were never meant to share.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to be with him.

You both knew it.

--------

“Y/N.”

Your name pulls you back, snapping you out of your daze. You’ve been zoning out more lately—a side effect of exhaustion, of self-inflicted chaos. The weight of your last year in university, the pressures of grad school applications, a demanding internship, moving out of your old apartment before the lease expires. You’re barely holding it together, and maybe that’s why you keep making the same mistakes. Why you keep letting him in.

“Huh—oh, yes?” you blink, refocusing on Lara, her golden nose ring glinting under the soft apartment lighting. Gorgeous as ever, her warm brown skin flawless, her long red curls framing a face too symmetrical to be real.

“You’re scaring me,” she says, eyes scanning you with concern. “You keep zoning out. I think you have too much on your plate.”

She knows you too well. She always has. You’re a chronic overachiever, running yourself into the ground without ever leaving space to breathe. The difference is, Lara has balance. She’s just as busy—final year, business major, yet somehow her life is seamless. Perfect boyfriend, a family with money, an apartment that isn’t suffocating under the weight of bad decisions.

Meanwhile, you trick yourself into thinking that 5am gym sessions compensate for the disorder of your life, that productivity masks your wreckage. You can’t even remember a time when you weren’t a mess.

“I think so too,” you admit, sighing. “But I’m too deep in. I worked so hard for that internship, I can’t screw it up now. Maybe once I finish moving, things will settle.” You take a sip of your hot chocolate, hoping the warmth will calm your nerves.

“I literally offered to hire movers for you.”

“Okay, but who’s going to unpack all my shit?”

“I said I’d help you.”

You shake your head. “I don’t like people touching my things.”

Lara scoffs. “Why do you make things so hard for yourself?”

You don’t know. You really don’t. But it’s a pattern—one you can’t seem to break.

“You know I like doing things myself, Lara. If I can’t handle it alone, then what’s the point?” It’s a mindset etched into your bones.

She exhales sharply, rolling her eyes. “I don’t understand you.”

“Me neither.” You chuckle, but it’s hollow.

She convinces you to let her help with the move, and though you resist, you’re relieved. You’re grateful to have her, even if a small, ugly part of you resents how effortlessly put-together she is.

You’ve known Lara since third grade, since you found her beating up the class bully, Seth. You were inseparable after that. Her 4’9, 60-pound eight-year-old self had taken on the biggest guy in the grade and won. She was fearless, independent, kind—all the things you pretend to be. Maybe that’s why you push away her help. Accepting it feels like pity. It’s cruel to feel that way about your best friend, but you can’t help it.

She’s perfect without trying. And you…

You’re crying. Alone. In your car. In the parking garage of Lara’s apartment.

Pathetic.

You slam your forehead against the steering wheel, frustration bubbling up in your throat. You’re so sick of crying. Sick of feeling. Sick of yourself. The weight of everything—the past, the present, the future—presses down on your chest, suffocating.

Your phone vibrates.

A name you should’ve erased long ago lights up your screen.

Hwa: I want to see you.

You exhale sharply, fingers tightening around your phone. He always seems to find you when you’re at your lowest. As if he has a sixth sense for your weakness. But the truth is, you wouldn’t have said no even if he’d texted at any other time.

You: I need you, Hwa.

And that’s the worst part.

Because it’s not just loneliness. It’s not just sex. It’s something much darker, much deeper. A sickness rooted in your bones, in your mind, in the way you let yourself believe that this—this—is the only way you can feel anything at all.

Maybe that’s why you always end up in his bed.

Even though you know that’s not where you’re supposed to be.

-------

Seonghwa’s fingers trace the curve of your jaw, tilting your face toward his. The warmth of his touch sends a slow burn through your veins, igniting something reckless inside you.

“Angel,” he murmurs, voice smooth, coaxing. “Look at me.”

You do, blinking up at him from where you rest in his lap, curled into him on the couch. He smells like cedarwood and sin, his presence intoxicating. The movie playing on the screen is long forgotten, drowned out by the steady drum of your pulse.

It’s always the same routine—he comes over, you eat, you talk, you fuck. Repeat. Some nights feel different. Some nights, he lingers. Holds you a little longer. Whispers things in the dark that make your chest ache. Tonight is one of those nights.

His wife and daughter are away for the weekend, visiting family. He couldn’t go because of work.

You don’t know who you hate more. Him. His wife. Or yourself.

You hum softly, lashes fluttering as you meet his gaze. His thumb brushes against your lower lip, eyes darkening.

“You’re so quiet tonight,” he muses. “What’s on your mind?”

Everything. Nothing. You.

Instead of answering, you shift in his lap, pressing your thighs together. The movement doesn’t go unnoticed. His hand tightens on your jaw, the other gripping your waist. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, eyes locked onto yours, heavy with intent.

He leans in, breath warm against your skin.

“Tell me what you need.”

You swallow, heart hammering. You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t. But your body betrays you, melting into him, chasing his warmth.

You whisper the words you always do, the ones that keep you bound to him in this cycle of ruin.

“You.”

Without hesitation, Hwa leans down, his lips meeting yours with a tenderness that should not belong to you. It is slow, deliberate—loving. The kind of kiss a man gives his wife, the kind of kiss a man should give his wife. And yet, here he is, pressing that devotion into you, stealing what was never yours to have.

"Hwa," you breathe between his kisses, your voice barely a whisper, more of a plea than a protest. 

"Hm?" He hums, lost in you, unaware—or perhaps too aware—of how he unravels you piece by piece. 

"You're so gentle tonight," you murmur, tilting your head to grant him access, surrendering before you can think twice. His lips trail down your jaw, onto the delicate skin of your neck, his breath warm against your pulse. 

"I finally have as much time with you as I want," he says, each word pressing into you like a brand. "I'm going to take my time. Savor you. Every part of you."

The words hit deep, sinking into the hollow spaces you pretend don’t exist. He wants to savor you. To be with you. To consume you slowly, as if you are something precious, something worth lingering over. But are you? Is this self-destruction or indulgence? Is this a wound or a reward?

"I missed you so much, angel. Your smell, your face, your taste. Always so pretty for me. You know that?" 

Here he goes again, whispering the words he knows will break you apart, dissolving the fragile pieces of your restraint. He knows you too well. Maybe that’s why he chose you. He knew you were empty, a void waiting to be filled, so he poured himself into you—made you whole in the only way he knew how. Physical love, fleeting love, the kind that fades with the morning light. Because there’s no way he could truly love you, right?

Hwa strips away his shirt, then yours, discarding them like the last remnants of reason. His hands are firm yet reverent as he lifts you, carrying you toward your empty, half-packed room. He stumbles over a box, nearly losing balance, and you let out a quiet laugh. 

He silences you with a kiss, deep and claiming, before laying you tenderly onto the mattress. 

Tonight, you are his. 

Tonight, he is yours. 

And when the morning comes, reality will take him back. 

But for now—for now, he lingers.

[majoryeager104]

Could you write about a horrendously down bad Tomura reacting to the reader speaking in their native language (and maybe even learning it for them)?

(this is totally not for my oc btw cough cough)

gahhh I love this so much ofc <3 so sorry this took me a little while to finish

✦••······················••✦•······················•✦••······················••✦

Tomura had been staring at you for a while. Stealing glances here and there, looking away a few times to make sure you didn’t notice just how much he was admiring you, even in a moment like this. You were fooling around with Himiko, running around the base and laughing. It was cute. Really cute, he’d think, his chin on his palm as he watched your movements. One thing he specifically focused on was your eyes- a vibrant and lovely shade of e/c that he couldn’t help but adore.

It didn’t take long though for the moment to end, especially considering you’d just stubbed your toe on the corner of a table. “Fuck!” You exclaimed, not realizing you’d said it in your native language until everyone was staring at you perplexed. Even Twice had stopped bugging Compress to look at you and tilt his head, letting out a very simple “huh?”

Despite the initial confusion everyone had caught on, and while you and Himiko now sat opposite him, while the latter girl smiled and asked you about your language, Tomura sat there, still staring. He listened to you speak that language again when Himiko asked you to. It sounded pretty, especially in your voice. He thought about it late into the night.

But he’d never tell you that. No, no, he’d much rather just overthink telling you how pretty your native language sounded while pacing back and forth in his room. There had to be some other way to say it, some other way to convey how much he liked it, how much he liked you.

So, instead of being upfront, he got to studying. His usual hours on his computer late at night were now spent learning, and practicing phrases, quietly sounding them out hours into the night.

It wasn’t until the next morning that all his hard work came to fruition, when he approached you during breakfast, and as per usual, you were walking around with that content look, those pretty eyes landing on him as you waved hello.

He picked up a conversation with you, trying to figure out a way to slide in the phrase he’d learned. He was so nervous, fidgeting and getting quiet here and there, looking down or away from you, needless to say it was a little perplexing from your point of view. When he noticed that, he panicked, and blurted out the words he’d been intending to say since last night.

“you have pretty eyes”

He cringed after he said it, already feeling stupid for it. That was, until you smiled, really, really smiled. “Thank you, Tomura” you replied, and thanks to his all nighter, he caught it, a small smile forming on his face too as he scratched the back of his neck. Success.

You were smiling about the moment well into the day, and to be honest, so was Tomura. So much so that he spent even more time practicing in your native language. After a few months, he got to a point where he could hold a basic conversation with you, and he absolutely loved it. Being able to speak to you so intimately, because no one else in the league knew it, just you two, it made him blush to just think about it.

And as a cherry on top, he did in fact (eventually, when he got the confidence to,) ask you out in your native language too.

✦••······················••✦•······················•✦••······················••✦

A/n; when I read the request I knew I knew in my left asscheek that reader would curse after stubbing their toe. I don’t know why, but it was perfect to me, and I hope you liked it <3

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

The window is always open

Warning ⚠️; None, just fluff and fatherhood

Pairing; None, Damian Wayne & Gn!Vigilante!Reader (Father figure$

Summary; You always leave your window open in case one the batkids would need to come in for emergencies. Yet, Damian use it all the time.

Credit @cafekitsune

Note; my doctor scare the living shit out of me, so I wrote this to calm me down.

Note 2; I’m dying, wtf was that bug? Why did a part of a draft updates here??? I am so sorry y'all! I do not know how that happened honestly 😂

You stood in front of your door, hand on the doorknob, knowing something was amiss. You frowned and listened attentively. You heard a soft sound, like little footsteps, from your kitchen which made you relax as you knew who it was. You unlocked the door and got inside, taking off your coat and boots.

- “Damian, I thought we spoke about it already. The window is open but only for emergencies and I doubt stealing my take-out fall in that category,” you gently scolded as you entered your kitchen.

You switched the lights on and crossed your arms staring at the teen as he hate your take-out. Damian stared back at you, not giving a single fuck.

- “Nah, but avoiding an angry Bruce,” Damian replied and you sighed.

- “What did you do this time?” You asked, leaning your shoulder against the wall.

Damian rolled his eyes and offered you no reply. You sighed and went to make you some food, giving some to the kid to decide whether or not to tell you why he ended up running away from his father. But Damian said nothing as long as you cooked, not even as you sat down.

You ate in silence, eyeing Damian up and down. No bruised, no injuries and no signs of him being hurt. So why was Bruce angry after his son? At some points the sound of a notification caught your attention and you knew who it was before looking at it. Bruce was asking you if Damian was at your place and you reassured him that he was and to not come, that Damian was sleeping here.

The bat left you on read.

Yeah, that wasn't good.

- “Bruce ain't coming to get me, right?” Damian asked with a small voice and you shook your head.

- “Nah, I told him to not come and that you were sleeping at my place tonight. I’ll take you to school in the morning, don’t worry,” you reassured Damian and he nodded at that.

You two finished eating in silence and cleaned the dishes before you sat back down and helped Damian with his homework. Not that he needed help but he did need the company you realized and you couldn't bear the silence anymore. So, homework it was.

You were glad to be out of school, the new subjects seemingly more boring than they were in your time, and somewhat harder. Maybe it was the wording, you thought.

Before you realize it, they were done and you allowed Damian to watch the TV with you for a while. You knew he wouldn't sleep anyway, so where was the harm?

The teen picked a series you ignored all about and, just for you, played it from the start. You enjoyed listening to Damian explaining what was going on when things confused you, the series was clearly one of his favourite subjects and you wondered if he had no one to talk with about it. It wasn't long before Damian ended up snuggling against your side, tucked under his blanket, slowly dozing off. You wrapped an arm around his frail shoulders and he sighed.

- “We got into an altercation, with Bruce I mean, and it’s my fault,” Damian ended up admitting as he yawned. “I think he want to send me back to my mother.”

- “Oh, Damian, don’t be say that. Your father love you very deeply, he just sat on a stick and never got it out,” you replied, passing your fingers through his hair. “Besides, you really think I would allow him to send you away like that? He’ll have to fight me before being able to take you to the airport,” you tried to reassure him and Damian snorted.

- “He’ll kick your ass,” he pointed out, sighing and closing his eyes.

- “Bolt of you to assume he’ll win. I too have contingency plans!” you declared with a smile.

Damian chuckled at that and his hand found your shirt. You looked down and watched as he clenched his fist tight on the fabric as if he feared you would disappear. You pulled him closer to you, stroking his shoulder.

- “I promise sweety, Bruce is not going to send you away,” you swore and Damian buried his face against your side.

- “But I… disobeyed. I went out alone without him and I told him I hated him. Why would he keep me?” Damian asked with a little voice and it broke your heart.

- “Damian, your father love you and he heard way worse from Jason, Dick and even Tim. Trust me, his only thoughts must be that you are getting “into that age”, and I bet he wasn't angry, but scared. I would have snapped too knowing you went alone playing vigilante. You know how dangerous Gotham can be,” you scolded him and Damian groaned.

You hoped you understood what you didn't say; Bruce had lost Jason once, the scar hadn't healed even if Jason was back from the dead. It wasn't hard to see he was terrified the same thing would happen to his actual son.

- “C’mon, you’ll see. Tomorrow Bruce would have calmed down and you two can speak. Before long you’ll be laughing about tonight,” you promised and Damian said nothing.

Against you, you felt the teen relax, his body going limp against you and his breath became deeper. You smiled, realizing Damian was succumbing to exhaustion. You pulled his blanket higher, wrapping it correctly around him. You leaned down and kissed his hair, wishing Damian a good night with a smile, knowing he would be fine once morning came.

[emmaaxox3babyy]

⋆˚࿔ sneaky little girl 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

nikki sixx x female reader (requested ᥫ᭡。) word count: 1594 realized mid way of writing that the person who requested this deactivated their account, hope you all still enjoy! - 𝓮 ᥫ᭡

7/10/89

5:36 pm

tonight was the night.

as you added the final touches to your outfit, admiring just how realistic you looked as a delivery driver in the mirror, you couldn't help but let out a slight chuckle.

there was no way you were going to wait in that never ending line, only to get shitty seats in the back row. you had planned this out for weeks. going to every store, hell, you even gone as far as going to random fast food businesses, begging the workers to see if they had spare uniforms in the back.

taking the brush, running it through your hair one last time before grabbing your car keys and heading out the door. as you sat in your car, heading towards the stadium where motley crue was performing, you stopped at a pizzeria along the way, carefully placing the two pies of pizza in the passenger seat. you had to play the role, no backing down now.

when you first brought up this idea to your friends, they all thought you were crazy.

no way you will be able to sneak in, the security is going to be insane!

just you watch, you replied back.

an hour later

closing the car door, your nerves started to kick in as you held the food in your hands. you worked so hard, please don't let this fail terribly. as you walked passed the line of people waiting to get inside, you saw a door in the corner with a sign "do not enter" carefully centered right in the middle and a fairly fit security guard standing beside it.

a deep breath escaped your lips as you smoothly approached the guard, flashing him a large grin. he looked at you unfazed, his expression stern.

clearing your throat you finally spoke. after some time explaining who you "were" to the grown man, he reluctantly nodded his head, as he moved to the side, opening the metal door. you were in the clear.

once the door slammed shut behind you, your jaw dropped to the floor as excitement hit you at full speed. HOLY SHIT, IT FUCKING WORKED. this was a dream come true, you couldn't believe it.

not realizing how long you stood still, being carried away by your thoughts, you felt a hand gently graze your shoulder. being taken out of your trance, a gasp left your lips, causing you to drop the food on the floor. as you turned to see who it was that just touched you, your eyes landed on a familiar form. it was the one and only, nikki sixx, your all time favorite bassist.

staring at you, a smirk plastered on his face, his eyes roamed your body, up and down, taking in the sight that froze in front of him.

hm what do we have here? i don't think anyone ordered pizza... not that i know of.

rubbing your eyes, you had to make sure you weren't going crazy. your thoughts going a mile a minute, you couldn't even form a simple sentence, that sly personality of yours vanishing into thin air.

stumbling over your words, your cheeks growing red.

he placed his finger on your bottom lip, dragging it down a bit.

were you trying to sneak in? naughty girl. good thing you're cute.

nikki shook his finger at you mockingly and in the same breath grabbed your arm, dragging you through the back stage area. though you couldn't stop to smell the roses, you admired the quick glances you were able to see before entering into a room, a plaque titled "nikki sixx" comfortably sitting on the wood of the door.

what's your name sweetheart? you look awfully young to be here by yourself.

your voice coming out in a delicate tone, you told nikki your name, causing him to smile, taking your cheek in his hand and pinching it. nikki was loving this whole situation, he couldn't wrap his head around the fact that you did all of this just to sneak in, impressive. what a sneaky little girl you are.

sit babygirl get comfortable, i don't have to get on stage for another hour. you're such an adorable little thing, i'm so glad i saw you when i did.

you could smell the alcohol radiating off of nikki, thankfully he was still somewhat sober. he turned his attention rather quickly to his hair, fixing the few strands that was sticking out, his playful smirk never leaving his face. he adored your presence, an innocent little girl just sitting on the couch in his dressing room, watching his every move, oh how he was going to change that.

within a couple minutes of chatting, nikki broke the ice, as he swiftly lifted up your shirt, leaving you in nothing but your panties and bralette. a groan left his lips admiring just how perfect you are, unable to control how much you had an effect on him. he was going absolutely wild, he needed to devour you, he couldn't wait any longer, the anticipation was killing nikki.

such a good girl, look how pretty you are... i bet your little pussy is just dying to be fucked? look at that wet spot, is that from me?

taking his calloused hand, placing it directly on the wet spot of your panties, making soft small circles on your clothed clit. your head jolted back, a sudden gasp filling the room as you began to melt into his touch.

why are you being so shy honey, use your words, i love hearing that little baby girl voice of yours.

his free hand gliding your face in his direction, forcing you to keep eye contact with him. seeing how your bottom lip turned into a pout, nikki growled, immediately removing his grasp from your cheek and roughly gripping your hair. you could feel the pressure in your scalp, that aching pain slowly turning into pleasure as you moaned nikki's name.

that's my girl! scream for daddy, let everyone know how much of a little whore you are for me. you're making daddy's cock so goddamn hard, you little fucking tease.

a mixture of a groan and giggle escaped your lips, your knees starting to cave in a bit, becoming a shaky mess in the matter of seconds. though you needed nikki, he craved you just as much. the clear age gap between the both of you was making this experience twice the fun for him.

oh my sweet precious baby doll, be my obedient little pet and bent over for me okay? i need that tight pretty pussy on my cock now. don't make me repeat myself.

nikki's tone was serious, his dominant headspace clouding his brain. watching you bent over the couch, your panties completely soaked made his mind go into overdrive. taking his fingernails, lightly dragging them across your pale skin before unexpectedly giving your ass a few hard spanks. the strength of each slap caused redness to appear to the surface of your skin immediately.

ouch nikki!

oh shut it little girl, take my spanks like a good pet. you better not whine, the next time you do, you're getting ten more.

you nodded your head in response, not wanting to push nikki's patience. your submission causing him to hum in satisfaction. hearing his leather pants become undone, you closed your eyes, the butterflies in your stomach rapidly fluttering with each passing second.

nikki dragged his index finger over your core, slowly making an up and down motion. he could feel how excited you were getting for him as he brushed your damp panties to the side, giving him the perfect view of your pussy. nikki grabbed his cock, stroking himself slightly, before whispering in your ear,

darling are you ready? beg for my cock, show me how desperate little girl you are, show daddy.

you couldn't lie, you were absolutely touch starved. in short sentences, you repeated yourself over and over of how much you needed nikki to be inside of you. as he listened to you, nikki uttered a sinister laugh, obsessed over how you responded to him.

as you continued to beg, your bare ass in the air, you gasped when nikki suddenly shoved his cock inside of your pussy, your body naturally gripping around him. feeling your eyes roll back.

jesus christ! your cunt is so fucking tight, i-i've never felt anything like this before, my god doll! you are mine, ALL MINE NOW.

your hair sticking to your body, the sweat dripping off of you. nikki continued to pound your sweet pussy, letting out a whorish moan. he was in pure ecstasy, you were meant for him. his new favorite doll.

shit d-doll, i-i mhmmm, d-daddy's in love!

nikki please don't stop-p.

oh baby girl, i'm not done with you yet.

time skip

not realizing how much time has passed by, you and nikki just enjoying each other's touch. a random sharp bang broke the tension, coming from the wooden door, he looked at the clock in the room and then back at you.

oh my sweet angel, i have to go on stage now, but you better stay right here.

nikki gave your forehead a soft kiss as he pulled his pants back up, not wanting to leave you but duty calls. you smiled into the kiss, your cheeks getting hot. right before nikki was about to leave his dressing room, he shot you a wink, his smirk now turning into a genuine smile. what a special little girl you are.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[loves0phelia]

Hello!

I would like to request another Matt Murdock fic. I have imagined where because they both work at Nelson and Murdock, Matt and his girlfriend (or even fiance or wife) decide to be late for work because they want to take a walk together and is like very romantic and fluffy.

I hope you like and consider the idea!

❤

Nelson, Murdocks and Page

Summery: the request

Words: 1k

Warnings: none, grammar mistakes.

A/N: thank you for requesting! Sorry it took me so long 🫶

You and Matt have known each other since your college days,  it all began a random Tuesday in class. Matt walked in wearing his large black glasses, his hair neatly parted to the right. He tapped his cane on the floor, making his way toward the higher seats where you usually were. To someone who didn't know his condition, it looked like he was fumbling, struggling to find a seat but little did you know, Matt had it all planned. He had been aware of you from the very first day of law school.

You always sat quietly in the back of the class, invisible to everyone except him. The rest of the room never noticed the way he paid attention to you. The soft scent of your perfume always catched him and it captivated him. Matt was smitten, and he knew he wanted to get your attention.

"Do you need help?" you asked, your voice soft and sweet. Matt couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips, your voice was even more soothing than he'd imagined.

"Sorry, um… I’m just trying to find a seat up here. I find it a little less overwhelming," he explained. For a moment, you were a bit puzzled until he added, "You know... heightened senses because I’m blind?"

The realization hit, and you immediately felt embarrassed. "Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Of course, let me help you," you said, instinctively reaching out and gently taking his upper arm to guide him to the seat next to yours.

"You can sit here next to me if you want," you offered.

"That’s perfect. Thank you," Matt replied.

From that day on, you two were inseparable. Every class was spent sitting together. Every Friday night, you found yourself in his dorm room, where you met the infamous Foggy, and where you all became an unstoppable trio. 

And one night, when Foggy was away on one of his many dates with Marcy, Matt kissed you for the first time and asked you to be his girlfriend and that same dorm room.

You stirred in bed as you felt gentle fingers go up and down your naked back. 

You woke slowly, eyes fluttering open, and a small smile tugged at Matt’s lips.

"Morning sweetheart" he whispered, his voice rough with sleep but still so comforting. He reached out, his hand gently brushing your cheek, and you melted into his touch.

"Morning," you murmured back, snuggling closer to him, and resting your head on his chest as he wrapped his arm around you, holding you close.

For a few moments, there was just the peaceful silence between the two of you, the kind that didn’t need words to speak volumes. Matt pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering for just a moment longer than usual.

The ring on your finger felt natural now. You and Matt have been married for years now but you were both still so over the moon in love.

He smiled, his heart swelling at how effortlessly easy it was to be with you, like nothing in the world could feel more right. 

"I don't want this moment to end," you whispered against his chest.

"It doesn’t have to," he whispers back, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your cheek.

"But we have a meeting at the office," you protest.

"Foggy and Karen can handle it," he assures you, a hint of mischief in his tone.

"Really?" You lift your gaze, searching his face for certainty.

A slow, knowing smile tugs at his lips. "Yeah," he breathes before capturing your lips with his.

Matt walks beside you, his fingers tangled with yours, the warmth of his palm made you feel fuzzy and his hair was still messy from your hands running through it earlier.

"You’re smiling," he notes, tilting his head toward you.

"Yep, I'm just happy. This is a perfect morning" You say, squeezing his hand. 

Matt’s lips curved upwards, and squeezed your hand back three times. He couldn't agree more.

“I can smell the bakery a few blocks away, want to stop by and get some goods for Fog and karen?”

“Of course, maybe they'll forgive us for being late” You say with a teasing tone.

When you reach the storefront, the rich scent of pastries engulfed you, making your stomach growl audibly. Matt chuckles. "I think that was louder than my own heartbeat."

You nudge him playfully. "shut up."

The bell above the door jingles as you step inside. The place is small, cozy, the air thick with sugar and espresso. Matt lets you guide him to the counter.

"Pick something for me," he says, his voice softer now, intimate. His chest presses against your back as you order a bag of fresh croissant and two double chocolate fudge muffins for Karen and Foggy as well as a tray of 4 well deserved coffees.

As you and Matt step out of the bakery, your bodies naturally draw toward each other even as you walk. There’s a quiet giddiness between you, marriage has only deepened that connection.

The office comes into view, and as you ascend the stairs, your laughter echoes softly in the hallway—until a familiar voice interrupts.

"Finally! The Murdocks decide to show their faces!" Foggy throws his arms in the air, his exaggerated sigh making Karen roll her eyes beside him.

"Where have you two been? You missed the meeting!" she adds, though there’s more amusement than frustration in her voice.

You lift the bag of pastries, smiling sheepishly. "We brought treats?"

Matt sets down the tray of coffee with an easy grin.

"You're lucky you're nice, Murdock number two," Foggy mutters as he immediately snatches his muffin. "Otherwise, you wouldn’t have gotten away with it so easily."

"Don’t threaten a pregnant woman, Foggy. That’s highly inappropriate," Matt tuts playfully, not an ounce of seriousness in his voice.

"Blah, blah, blah," Foggy waves him off with a mouthful of pastry before side-eyeing Matt. "I know Murdock number three isn’t the reason you two were late."

Matt smirks, completely unashamed. "What can I say? I love spending time with my wife." His arm slips around you, hand resting over the swell of your belly.

Karen shakes her head, smiling. "Hopeless. Both of you."

[infizero]

hes like a feisty little kitten

[licorishh]

OH YEAH ALSO finally watched the FNAF movie with the coolest person on Earth, 11/10 movie, Mike looked ready to curl up into a fetal position on the floor and burst into tears at all moments, he is so me, would watch again

[rafesangelita]

♡ ࣪when a movie night with your best friend ends with you and rafe naked underneath your blankets..

warnings: bsf!rafe, fluff, cuddling, sexual tension, reader is a little bold in this one, heavy petting, tit play, dirty talk, degradation, oral (m. & f. receiving), face sitting, face fucking, hair pulling, choking, biting, finger sucking, size kink, unprotected sex, rough sex, multiple orgasms

a/n: movie night dates are my fav <3

wc: 2.3k

“they have the whole twilight series on here..” rafe looked away from your tv, and at your bare legs as you stepped out of your bathroom, a pair of sleep shorts and one of his t-shirts adorning your body. “oooh, put it on!” you joined rafe under the covers, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. anyone from the outside would’ve looked at you and rafe and thought you two were a little too close to be best friends, and while they might be right, you and rafe loved being close like this.

“i’m surprised you’re wearing a sweatshirt,” you tugged at the soft material, “i like it.” rafe looked down at you, the corner of his lips quirking. “yeah?” he pulled you closer, his large palm splaying across your lower back. you hummed breathing in his cologne. he was so warm and just so big, you couldn’t help but snuggle into him more. the movie started playing, the soundtrack playing softly in the background as you two fell into a comfortable silence.

“these are the movies you watch strictly for the vibes, because the acting is terrible.” you gasped at rafe’s words, unintentionally moving against his front side. he cursed under his breath, backing away slightly so you couldn’t feel his hardening cock through his sweatpants. “it’s not that bad.” you giggled, backing up on him which only made rafe shut his eyes. he was trying his hardest to keep his cool right now, but with the way your shorts rode up past the curves of your ass, it was nearly impossible.

rafe was growing fidgety, his movements not going unnoticed by you. “are you okay?” you turned around, his cheeks flushed pink as a thin sheen of sweat coated his skin. “yeah— yes, i’m just uhm.. i’m burning up in this sweatshirt.” you took your bottom lip between your teeth, your fingers dancing along the hem of his shirt. “so take it off.” rafe swallowed thickly, feeling your nails graze just above his v-line. “what?” he laughed nervously, waiting for you to say you were kidding. “..take it off.” you repeated, watching the way rafe’s chest rose up and down with every breath.

even though you two constantly teetered the edge of what friends did and didn’t do, rafe always made sure to never cross the line.. unless you wanted to, of course. “a-are you sure?” rafe was already going through a mental battle, his jaw ticking when you took it upon yourself to pull his sweatshirt over his head. tonguing his cheek, you and rafe shared a glance before you averted your attention back to the tv. “can you hold me?” rafe knew he couldn’t say no to you, nor did he want to.

letting you rest your head on his bicep, he pulled you against his chest, his hand slipping under your, his, t-shirt. it was hard to focus with his hand on your tummy, his hard-on nestled between your cheeks while his breath fanned the back of your neck. you only lasted ten minutes like this, your hips moving on their own accord as rafe trailed his hand further up your torso. he froze when he felt the swells of your breasts against his thumb, a curse leaving his lips as he whispered in your ear.

“you’re fuckin’ killing me right now.” he groaned, taking one of your tits in his hand. you arched into him, reaching behind you to palm him through his pants. resting his head in the curve of your neck, rafe licked a stripe up against your skin, his tongue running over the sensitive spot of your flesh. you moaned, the sound making his cock stir. you’ve wanted rafe like this for so long, you couldn’t believe he was finally touching you the way you’ve wanted for so long.

craning your neck so you could see his face, you continued stroking him through his pants, his lips finding yours before he slipped his freehand under the waistband of your shorts. “no panties either? fuck, you were just begging for this cock weren’t you?” you whimpered a ‘mhmmm’, before you felt his middle and ring fingers dip between your folds. “what the fuck? you’re soaked..” he grazed your clit, your body jolting in pure unadulterated pleasure.

“when did that happen, huh? was it when you took my shirt off?” rafe slid his fingers down to your entrance, gathering the pool of wetness there before gliding his digits back up to your sensitive bundle of nerves, “or was it when you got under the covers and put your ass where i needed you most?” he whispered the last part, admiring the way your eyebrows knitted together in desperation, your lips glossy with his spit.

“please, i need you so bad, ray!” you cried, refraining from whining when he took his hand out of your shorts. bringing his digits up to your lips, you welcomed them in your mouth where rafe watched you suck your sweetness off of them. “you’re such a fuckin’ whore, i didn’t even need to ask you to do that.” he watched with a dark gaze, your tongue swirling around his fingers and sucking them as if it was something else. “you look so pretty when you’re cock hungry..” rafe teased, pulling away from you to take his sweats off.

you got on your knees, crawling to the edge of the bed where rafe stood fully naked. he was so hard, your mouth practically watered when he pulled you closer to him by your chin. “can i please taste you?” you gazed up at him with those watery eyes as he threaded his fingers through your hair. “oh, how sweet of you for asking,” he tugged at the hair on your scalp, his cock just centimeters away from your face, “do whatever you want with it, ‘pretty. it’s yours.”

you gave him that smile that made him fall in love with you all those months ago before licking a stripe up from the underside of his length, lapping up the pre cum that managed to dribble down his cock. rafe was mesmerized as he watched you, your pretty eyes never leaving his as you managed to wrap your lips around his sensitive tip. he was so big compared to you, he worried about how you’d be able to take it all. slowly, you kept lowering yourself until he bottomed out in your throat, the man above you in complete awe.

rafe was turned on beyond belief, the urge to just wrap his fists in your hair and fuck your face until you’re choking on it made him feral. you stilled, swallowing around him until he had to pull you off. “are you fucking with me right now? you want me to cum inside your mouth that bad?” he squeezed your cheeks together, landing a harsh smack to your ass. you yelped, nodding frantically as he pulled his t-shirt off of your body. with your tits now on full display, rafe balled your hair up and lowered you down onto his cock again.

you doubled over, your back arching as he thrusted into your mouth at an unforgiving speed. the sounds coming from between your lips were nothing short of obscene, heavy tears now rolling down your cheeks. rafe couldn’t formulate a single thought, his brain empty as he reveled in the feeling of your throat taking his cock. he fantasized about this for so many nights, wanting nothing more than to have you at his mercy and letting him take you however he wanted. fuck, he just knew you’d let him too. his pretty little best friend finally taking his cock, he could just cum at the thought.

as if rafe was brought back to earth from floating on cloud nine, he groaned when the band in his stomach snapped, his high washing over him in waves of pure ecstasy. his cum shot down your throat, the thick white ropes painting your tongue as his thrusts grew sloppy, his hold on your hair loosening as he let out a string of curses. “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..” rafe lost himself like never before, a hiss leaving his lips as you kept bobbing your head, desperate to take each drop.

“y/n—” he shuddered, pushing you away before you could keep going. overstimulated and out of breath, rafe pulled you up to look at your face. “i’m so sorry, i didn’t think i was going to finish that fast..” he was slightly embarrassed, but even more confused as you shook your head. “it’s okay!” you pecked his lips, batting your eyelashes at him as if he didn’t just cum in your mouth without permission. “where is it?” he cupped your cheeks, your mouth clean of any cum.

“what?” you whispered, equally as confused until rafe’s eyes widened in realization. “did you fuckin’ swallow it?” his thumbs hooked between your lips, opening your mouth to check for himself. he couldn’t put into words how bad he wanted you right now, the simple fact that you took what he gave you so eagerly made him tackle you back down on your sheets, his lips melting against yours in an instant. you welcomed him between your thighs, moaning in his mouth as he took your shorts off.

“sit on my face.” he rolled over, pulling you on top of him. you didn’t have any time to process what was happening before he pulled your thighs down on either sides of his head. rafe wasted no time, his tongue flicking between your folds. you gasped, scrambling to grip his arms as he dragged your hips across his mouth. “you taste amazing, holy fuck.” he circled your clit, sucking the sensitive bud before digging his fingers into your skin.

you cried out, eyes fluttering shut as you clenched around nothing. “f-feels so good, rafe!” the man beneath you moaned, his chest filling with pride as you writhed on top of him. despite his mouth working wonders on your soaked cunt, you felt so empty, wanting nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch of his cock. “need you inside, ray,” you looked down at him, “please fuck me.” grunting at your words, rafe gave you a nod.

standing up on shaky legs, rafe sat up against your headboard before pulling you back down on his lap. “wait— i don’t have any condoms.” rafe was panting, his lips glistening with your slick. “so?” you kissed him, grinding helplessly on his cock. “you’re okay with that? if i don’t use one?” you hummed, trailing kissing across his toned chest. “fuck— okay, baby.” rafe wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting you up as you reached down and lined him up with entrance. making sure you were looking at his face, rafe lowered you slowly, both of you moaning as you sunk down on his length.

you felt so warm and tight wrapped around him like this, both of you shuddering once he filled you to the hilt. “you okay?” his voice was gentle as he spoke to you, his fingers stroking your chin as you nodded. “yes, i just feel so full.” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck. “listen to me,” rafe started, “you’re not just my best friend after this. me and you? we’re together, alright?” you blinked, a smile gracing your features as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “really?” you felt giddy, your small laugh being cut short when he moved his hips.

“yes, really..” he trailed off, “i need you to know that i love and respect you, because the way i’m gonna fuck you right now? you just might forget.” you were about to question what he meant when he bear hugged you and started thrusting into you from below, your lips parting as a shriek ripped itself from your throat. “oh, fuck!” you rarely cursed, the word throwing rafe for a loop before he smirked to himself. “you cussing now, angel? is the dick that good?” you buried your face in his chest, unintentionally biting down on the flesh as his thighs smacked the bottoms of your ass.

rafe’s force was brutal, his tip kissing your cervix with every movement of his hips. “yes! yes, it’s so good!” you cried, holding onto him for dear life. “i’ve thought about doing this for so long,” he groaned, “just’ wanted you to be mine already.” rafe looked up at you as if you weren’t real, like you’d disappear into thin air if he didn’t hold you tight. he continued like this, leaving open mouth kisses between your neck and shoulder, your head knocking against the headboard.

“shit— sorry.” he laid you down, pinning your knees to your chest before slamming back into you again. nothing could top this, you were sure of it. with rafe pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, and his fingers now rubbing your clit, it wasn’t long before you were sobbing out, both you and rafe kissing each other as your orgasm hit you, quite literally stealing your breath away. rafe came twice, unaware that he could even do that within a fifteen minute time span.

your stomach caved in as you attempted to breathe, your heart beating in your ears as your back arched off of your sheets. “..rafe,” your voice just barely above a whisper before you gasped, the man on top of you cradling your head as he watched you come undone beneath him. you were crying, moaning hysterically as your high came over you, rendering you speechless while rafe marveled at the sight. “too much?” you nodded, rafe pulling out before shushing you with a peck to your lips.

you were still going through the aftershocks of your orgasm when he pulled the blanket over you two, both of you flushed against each other as he eased you down from your high. as if the moment couldn’t get any better with you shyly smiling at each other, the song ‘roslyn’ started playing from the movie, both of you stroking the other’s skin. “are we really together now, or were you just thinking with your other head?” rafe laughed, wrapping his arms around your waist. “no i meant it.” he traced the curve of your lips, admiring you until you fell asleep.

[sanriovin]

steamy shower sex with simon.

the man's just come home from a deployment which took you away from him and him away from you for a whole month. a whole month of both of you having no sexual contact with each other, no calls, no photos, no nothing.

so just imagine the desperation and the raw need between the two of you as he stepped foot back into the place that finally felt like home after so many years of trying to find it, dropping his bag to the wooden floor, not even bothering to take his shoes off as his arms found themselves wrapped tightly around your smaller body, holding you close, so close.

"missed you, lovey." his voice was deep, low, as usual, yet his tone was softened, into one of vulnerability, love, desire, and need. one that he only ever used towards you. only you were deserving of hearing and seeing his true emotions, which were hidden behind a cold mask to others.

you insisted he should take a shower, clean himself up from the messy deployment, ease his stiff, aching joints, slowly ground himself back into the domestic side of his life, even if it wouldn't last forever. not yet, at least, one day, maybe.

however, simon didn't want to be alone yet, no, not after he just came back to his sweetheart. so in the end, the two of you ended up showering together. it started as a normal shower, which slowly escalated into more.

which is how you found yourself, in simon's big, well-trained arms, his scarred fingers pressing tightly into your thighs, back against his muscled chest, as he fucked up into you, his fat cock stretching out your pulsing, clenching walls with a slight new found difficulty from how long he was separated from you. but, that just means he has to get you nice and stretched out, doesn't he?

the running water did little to conceal the groans and low moans from him, and the higher, louder moans and whines from you. your head was leaning against his shoulder, eyes barely open, as his tip repeatedly pressed against your sweetest spots inside you, making you feel dizzy from the unwavering pleasure.

rutting his hips up into you, his grip on you tightened, as he slowly lowered his head, whispering into your ear amidst his noises of pleasure and relief. "feeling good, pretty girl? getting close? i can fucking feel you clenching around me so hard. you wanna cum, yeah?"

he was teasing you with his words, as he soon began to simultaneously bring your wet pussy down onto his dick while fucking up into you, but you knew he was just as wanting as you were in this moment.

your moans grew louder in noise, stirring him on to do the same, his groans and grunts of your name and dirty words growing louder and more rushed. your wetness was dripping down his cock, slipping down his bare, marked skin, leaving a trail which almost immediately got washed off by the running water in the shower.

the glass was steamed up, a white sheet of condensation hiding your two bodies away from the outside. the air was getting hotter and thinner, which, along with your current states, didn't really help much. but, none of that mattered in the moment. what mattered was that you were with simon again, getting one of the best sex experiences in your life.

"g'nna cum, wanna cum, pleasee, 'leasee!" you cried out, turning your head, trying to capture simon's lips in a long-awaited kiss. you could see his eyes moving to look down at your lips, as he lowered his head down, capturing your lips in a wet, messy kiss, one with tongue's meeting, fighting for the dominance, which undoubtedly you had lost quickly.

"you wanna cum, huh?" he muttered out, his pace constant, not speeding or slowing down. "wanna cum so desperately? then do it. be a good girl for me and make a fucking filthy mess."

and that was all it took for you to snap, your body jerking and trembling as the tension in your lower abdomen snapped, mind blank, save for simon's name, as your orgasm hit you so intensely, squirting so hard as your body shook from it. your pussy clenched and twitched so much that that in itself was enough to bring poor simon to the breaking point.

holding you down tightly on him, which was definite to leave many loving, reminiscent marks of what had happened, he let out a lusty, heavy moan, burying his face in your shoulder, as hot spurts of his cum shot into you, intertwining with yours, creating a sticky mess between the two of you as it began to dribble out, getting flushed away through the shower water.

it took you some time to gather yourselves; to catch your breaths, come back to reality, to ground yourselves from the orgasms you had just experienced. simon slowly let you down, turning the shower off, looking down at you, as you slumped against him, barely managing to stand on quivering legs.

"well, that shower was pointless, wasn't it?"

but he wouldn't trade these moments for anything in the world.

(author's note: wrote this on a whim, not too proud of it 🤞)

[pepperyduck]

this is love ft. kento nanami

a/n: a few sappy slices of life with my main man :3 enjoy as i dig up motivation to finish kinktober. 18+ mdni!

"honey?" kento's voice is muffled through the door as he calls out to you, "everything okay?" the door rattles as he tries to open it, knob jingling.

"uhm, yeah! everything's fine!" you nervously shout, much too loud, and rush to unplug the iron that had melted your husband's favorite shirt. you panic and yelp when the hot iron scorches the side on your hand, throwing the stupid device to the ground in a clatter.

"why is the door locked—are you okay?" he asks, voice becoming more concerned as he hears the movement inside.

"i'm—i'm fine! promise! just give me a minute!" you're rushing into your shared master bathroom to run cold water over your hand, and kento’s using a screwdriver pulled from thin air to break into your bedroom. tears well in your eyes when you catch the sight of kento seeing his favorite shirt burnt and melted to his own ironing board. "i’m so sorry…"

in reality, he doesn’t care about the shirt—he’s already at your side to inspect your burnt hand. after a few seconds, he speaks.

"did you try to iron my shirt for me?" nanami asks, a small smile on his face, "you didn’t have to do that." he turns off the faucet and takes a small towel to dry your hand off.

"i tried to, i’m sorry—i didn’t know it would do that." you apologize, looking down at the cold tile flooring in defeat.

"oh, honey." he coos, "it’s only a shirt."

"have you seen your father?" you ask your son, yū, who’s sat at the dining table, eating breakfast. he shakes his head no, and when you look at your daughter, mayu, she does the same.

"jeez," you grumble to yourself, bedroom slippers pattering down the hallway as you go to search for your husband. saturday mornings were his time to sleep in, but realistically, he never slept past 9am. and currently, it was nearing 10am.

you check everywhere. he isn’t found in the bedroom, living room, his office, the garage, the patio or in the little garden he kept. upstairs, downstairs, everywhere, he isn’t there. and when you check in your bedroom for the last time, you hear a soft buzzing coming from the bathroom. upon entering, you see your husband bent over the counter, leaning close in the mirror as he shaves his stubble with an electric razor.

"there you are—when did you get that?"

kento had always been a clean shaven kind of man, going to a barber shop once every two weeks for his straight razor shave. it hadn’t even crossed your mind he didn’t go after work yesterday.

but when he looks at you—you burst out laughing. he’d shaven most of his beard off, but a few fuzzy patches remained on his cheeks, along with a mustache grazing his upper lip. peach fuzz and a few knicks litter his chin. this was the first time you’d seen him unable to do anything perfectly. and he looks ridiculous.

"is it really that bad?" he groans, pouting when you wrap your arms around yourself in a giggling fit. you shake your head, although your unforgiving laughs are a testament to the opposite.

"no—no, let me help," you say after calming down.

after gathering a new razor and some shaving cream, you sit atop the counter and your husband stands between your legs. kento is surprised how flawlessly you shave his face, without creating any more marks or cuts. you giggle and kiss him, getting some shaving cream on your face.

"ken?" you shout from the kitchen, where you’re sat, working on your dissertation. it’s been a long road of blood, sweat, and many, many tears; but you’re finally getting towards the end. about to earn a doctorate.

"yes, darling?" kento replies, walking into the kitchen on queue, his timing impeccable.

"can you read over this paragraph, please?" you kindly ask of him, pointing to your most recent written paragraph. he leans over you, planting one firm palm on the table, the other on your back; his eyes read along the sentences and his fingers tap along your spine.

"ah," his finger becomes more focused on a certain word, "wrong 'there', honey."

"no it's not..." you instantly retort, squinting your tired eyes to read over your writing. and you're right, it was the correct one the first time. this was his version of teasing you. but kento couldn't keep up the face much longer before he's giving in with a shit-eating grin you didn't see that often. "you're funny." you groan as kento stands back up.

after reading over the paragraph for about the nineteenth time, you notice kento silently slipping you some tea before turning back around to keep himself busy with cleaning. you absentmindedly take a few sips, then some more...and you find yourself becoming more and more sleepy...

and you're out like a light, forehead pressed directly against the table as a puddle of drool forms on the papers below. kento already has a warm blanket straight from the dryer to drape over you, and you stir just enough to get comfy on your arms.

kento knows that his back will hurt in the morning, but he sits around the corner of the table next to you, settling his head into his arms to drift off to sleep alongside you.

music of your taste plays rather quietly in the kitchen. you stir the pot of soup and inhale the flavorful aroma that wafts through the air.

kento sets two bowls next to the stove, then rummages through your silverware drawer to find two spoons. the kids are at their grandparents for the weekend, it's only you and your husband, converted into the duo you were long ago.

you step away from the stove to go fill up two glasses of wine, the brand kento had as his favorite had slowly turned into your favorite over time, too.

kento fills up the two bowls to the brim of the delicious food, grinning on the inside at the simplicity of it all. just you and him. he lids the pot with the matching glass top and makes his way over to the table.

you set out place mats for the both of you, then place the wine glasses in their prospective areas. kento places the bowls on top of the mats as you grab the spoons from the counter.

in the kitchen, your bodies subconsciously dance around each other. carefully, in perfect tune and pace. delicate steps of a routine formed over so much time together.

in the universe, your souls are tied, striding alongside one another in each lifetime repeated.

and this, is love.

[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ Till death do us part ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : What if Alastors dear little darling wife, his partner in crime, the person he thought he'd never see again, turns up with Mimzy on the day of the visit of the big boss of hell.

Pairing : Alastor x fem! Reader

Word count : 1899 Words

Genre : Fluff , Drama , Angst

Warnings ➵ Mentions of death, you're shorter than

Vaggie, possessive Alastor, swearing

Prequel -> > The radio star lost <

a/n : I love this trope ngl, tried to not make him to much out of character, hope it worked.. T T

Also I'm rather new to Hazbin Hotel, so I say sorry if anythings seems wrong or out of character! ><

┌───────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

The whole hotel was a bit chaotic right now, Lucifer himself would be visiting in just a bit and Charlie wanted everything to be perfect. Colorful decorations were hanging everywhere, a banner was hung up for welcoming the king of hell, how does one even welcome the king of hell into their hotel? Charlie was probably the most stressed of all, but Vaggie did her best to calm her nervous wreck of a girlfriend down.

The moment Lucifer stepped into the hotel was meant to make everything go down, Alastor and his Ego had somehow always a snarky remark against Lucifer. Charlie tried her best to keep them apart, introducing her other friends, before she announced how she would be needing his help. And again the banter between the king of hell and the radio demon started all over again. As if throwing insults at each other before wasn't enough already, now they were pulling at Charlie left and right, like two babies fighting over a toy.

But all things come to an end, which Charlie was thankful for right now, as Mimzy, apparently a friend of Alastor, which was interesting to know he even had any, came barging in with a grand entrance. As the woman now settles down at the bar, talking with the others, Alastor and Charlie took Lucifer on a walk around, Husker disappearing for a second too, but soon joining them at the bar again, a scowl on his face, but something else, undescribable behind his eyes.

A bang was heard through the whole hotel as the entrance door was slammed open and heard could be an angry voice. "MIMZY! You little bitch!" A demon, a slight bit shorter than Vaggie probably, walked in. A scowl evident on the face, as her eyes scan over the place, before falling on the woman she was looking for. "How dare you leave me in the shit like that?! You've got it coming if those sharks don't kill you, I certainly will!" Ignoring the questioning looks of Angel and Husker, you stomp over to the blonde, ready to yank at her hair, when suddenly a bit of debris was thrown through the window and landed beside you, barely missing you by a hair. "The fuck?" The demon's head craned around, looking out the window and there they were, those fuckers Mimzy was in debt to.

You didn't really have time to react much, as three people stormed into the entrance hall, all you could catch was a glimpse of red before the person ran outside, screams of the sharks could be heard, at least those were finally taken care of.

The loan sharks were gone and fought off quickly by that person, his voice now directed to Mimzy, your own eyes on her yourself with a scowl. She and that red demon apparently knew each other quite well, as Mimzy was walking to the door, you finally really looked at the demon. He had short red and black hair, ears sat atop his head, despite scowling Mimzy he was smiling, though a sinister smile it seems. His attire was almost completely red too, a cane was clutched in his hands, as he watched Mimzy walk off, you could only make out a small part of his face. The man seemed so familiar as if you had known him for a long time.. Your heart was running a mile right now, it was getting hard to breathe, and then...

"Thank you Alastor, really.." The long-haired blonde spoke up.. That name, it couldn't be right? Mimzy would've told you, she knew him, she would've definitely told you.. right? You must be mistaken right now.. Your eyes were fixated on the man called Alastor, the voices and sounds around you were all a mush, drowned out as your brain was going all around. Now that you could see his face, he definitely had some resemblance to him.. to your late husband, who had died before you. You were his assistant, his partner in crime, when the news hit you that he was shot, it broke your heart, but still, you continued on alone, killing. That's probably what also got you to hell, well sooner than later you were figured out and soon arrived here in hell.

"Yo smiles, this girly is gawking at you for minutes now." Slowly voices were coming back to you, the white spider beside you talked, pointing his thumb at you, the red-haired now meeting your eyes, his ears straightening and standing alert like the ones of a deer caught in headlight. What irony if he was your Alastor, the irony of dooming him with deer-like features, after getting shot assumed for a deer while hiding one of the many bodies. That day you decided to let him go alone, oh if you just hadn't done that, maybe you both would be alive or you would've at least arrived together in hell.

Alastor was taking slow steps to you, the smile on his face looking strained, yet it never disappeared, his hand was reaching out for you but stopped. Eyes moving over your form, taking in everything. Resemblance to his wife evident, but.. how did he never notice you before? Had he ever met you, walked past, maybe even taken a second glance but dismissed this feeling he has right now.

Swiftly he grabs your wrist, dragging you behind him, ignoring the calls of his name of the other residents, his mind plagued by one only thought, more like one only person.. you.

Stumbling behind him, his grip rather firm on your wrist, yet it felt comforting as if you knew he would never hurt you. Not in your lifetime and also not now in your afterlife. Eyes watching the back of his head, you were wondering what expression his face harbors right now. Was he happy? Was he confused? Disappointed? Maybe he knew where you were all this time but didn't want to meet you. No, he wasn't like this. He may have been distant sometimes while alive, but in the end, he was always a darling to you. Taking care of you, just as he vowed on your wedding day. A distant memory, yet one of the most beautiful ones you have.

A door was opened and as you were pulled inside, the door closed. Steps echoed through the room, you noticed a forest on the other side of the room, but that didn't rather faze you, eyes on him again.. and him only. "Al-" You were interrupted by laughter, the man before you was hugging himself, his arms around him, yet you still weren't able to see his face. "D-Do you know.. How often have I thought about you?!" His voice was loud, a static sound like from a radio accompanied it. One of his hands was tearing at his hair now. "That bitch never told me... I'll make sure to kill her for that.. She kept you from me.." The laughter got even louder, as if the man before you was going insane.

This behavior was nothing new to you, he used to be like this, high on adrenalin when another murder was successful.. Or when he was close to being figured out by the police and detectives, yet he always slipped away right through their incapable fingers.

"I always wondered what happened to you, if you grew old with someone new.." If you were able to see his face right now, you would be able to see the sinister yet possessive smile on his face, his eyes darting around the room.

This all ended in a second when he felt a soft hand on his. He knew this hand, he also knew the person it belonged to like the front of his pocket. "I would never, I carried on alone in your memories, yet I was never as skilled as you darling, so sooner than later they connected all the dots to me." A low chuckle could be heard again, the static radio sound calmed down again too. The tall man slowly turned around now, his hand engulfing your own, his fingers softly running over your own, before he linked them together. How he had missed this feeling, despite having a distaste for people touching him, you were different. Your touch felt warm, like the summer sun kissing his skin, it felt comforting.

"I've missed you mon amour.." His voice was soft, probably the softest it had ever been since he had arrived in hell. His hand guides yours up to his lips, as he closes his eyes and presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand, a smile, now softer, on his lips. He was never one for kissing you on the lips, he definitely favored kissing your hand, like the gentleman he has always been. "I figured with how you were talking seconds ago my dear.." A soft smile was creeping up onto your lips too, mirroring his own one. Red eyes open again, your hand still pressed to his face, but now he was rather holding your hand to his cheek. "Oh how I wished I could've stayed with you my darling, we would've been so successful.." Giggling at his words, with him at your side, you probably would have been going for a long time. "But who says we can't be successful now?" A smirk etched its way onto your husband's face, oh how he loved your daring little mind, always thirsting for blood. With you by his side again now, he would definitely be able to get everything done that he wanted.

"Shall we go back? I want to meet your friends properly." Wanting to pull away your hand, he softly gives you a tug, your head landing on his chest now. Wide eyes look the the side now, as you weren't really able to move, his arms having snaked around you and his chin resting on your head. This was unusual much physical contact, but figured that you hadn't seen each other for multiple decades he yearned for your touch just a slight bit. Your arms lying around him, embracing the hug. "Let's just stay here a few minutes more, we got enough time to introduce you to everyone down there but for now.. let me have you for myself." Nodding softly, your head rests on his chest, as your eyes close and you simply enjoy the presence of your dearly beloved husband.

"What do you mean 'married to smiles'?!" Angel, as he was introduced to you, shouted from his place on the couch now, staring at you flabbergasted. "We've been married for quite a few years before his death." Smiling you answered his question. Alastor didn't like all the attention you were getting, but sooner than later he would have you all to himself again when you two go back to his cozy hotel room or the radio tower. "So you two fu-" Angel wasn't even able to finish his question before he shut himself up as he noticed the look on Alastors face. This time he would've been dead for sure if he finished that question.

Overall everyone invited you happily into their little hotel family, it was amazing. Charlie immediately took a liking to you and if you're being honest she quickly was viewed by you like a daughter.

[saymio]

Little Girls Shouldn't Be Out Alone

Pairing: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: running away from home might've been the worst decision of your life.. but its not because youre homeless now, its because you met him.

Warning: dead dove do not eat, brief knife play, dubcon, light bdsm, kidnapping/stalking, age gap, mentions of suicide + more.

A/N: not proof read. I tried doing the salesman justice..I promise

6.9k Words

...

the scene you were in was so cliche it was almost funny. your mother died not too long ago, and it was really hard for you because she was the one person in your life that seemed to really care about you. she was everything you wanted to be in life..growing up she was your idol, and to this day she still is... you just wished you had noticed it sooner.. maybe if you did you could've prevented it.. prevented her suicide. its been 2 months but it still haunts your brain, the scene of it. you wanted to throw up thinking about it. her bright smile ceased to exist, her intelligence couldnt impress you any more. it all ended with the gun going off in her mouth..intelligence splattered all over the walls of her shared bedroom with the gun laying next to her... and in result of your mothers suicide your father had to take you in. they had divorced when you were around 4 years old...you don't remember much. but living with him made you realize, your mother did the best choice she could've made then..even if she cried over it for years.

your father was an alcoholic, he didn't abuse you with hits and violence but he abused you with words. blaming you from the divorce and suicide of your mother. you tried to not let it get to your head..it wasn't your fault and he knew it. if anything the blood of your mother stained his hands.. but with the never lasting tournament he inflicted on you a part of you thought maybe he was right...maybe she didn't end her life over you but you could've prevented it. you were the closest person to your mother and vice versa..so..how did you never notice it? her suffering? did you miss all the signals..how stupid were you... she ended her life and you did nothing about it. you were useless...as per usual...

anyways...as you were saying. the scene you stood in the middle in was so cliche, it was like it belonged in a teenagers wattpad story. you were crouched down in an alley way, rain soaking you and everything around you as you sobbed into your hands. you couldn't live with your father anymore, you just couldn't. you knew if you stayed just one week longer..you'd follow your moms footsteps.. you hated this, you just wanted to live a happy normal life. apply for a nice university, move into a dorm, and visit your mom and dad during breaks... but the world wanted otherwise. here you were, drenched in water as you sat in the middle of nowhere...you had run away from home. you had no idea what to do next. your covered your backpack in a plastic bag but it barely helped. all your necessities were wet and your money was probably soggy by now. you're so stupid. couldve you just checked the forecast. to make sure the day you run away from home was a day the weather wouldn't freeze you alive? you couldnt do anything, nothing at all. should you just head back home? deal with your fathers screams for just a few months more before you could save up and move out? or should you just stay here..soggy and homeless... you knew what you were going to do... you'd stay here. you could take what the world would throw at you. you knew you could..but you just couldn't take another second of your dads tormenting. hes probably hoping you went off and jumped off a bridge or something..ending your fate just like your mother did.

you had fallen asleep, it was still raining and cold...but it was notably less than before. you were shivering, shaking in both fear and how frigid you were feeling. your teeth were clattering and you were being hyper aware of everything around you. if someone comes up to me all scary and intimidating I'll throw my backpack at them. it'll give me time to run away.. the sound of cars driving on the slippery wet roads filled your ears ever so often...the street was dead. if something happened to you no one would know.. squish squish squish you could hear the sound of foot steps echo around the streets...and it was getting louder..closer... until... "what are you doing here." a man holding an umbrella was standing Infront of you, he looked neat and tidy. the opposite of what you looked like at the moment. his suit was ironed to perfection, not a wrinkle in site. his hair slicked back neatly with gel.. and his features... they were striking and fierce.. he was handsome.. he tilted his head to the side and stared at you with his souless dark eyes. "well?" his tone wasnt soft but it wasn't stern either...it was like he was asking a child if they could hand him over the toy they've been playing with... you gulped down the lump that was forming inside your throat. "n-nothing..nothing important.." you spoke, barely over a whisper. you were nervous and scared. you felt like something was off about him, he just seemed too good to be true. handsome men like him always have something they hide from the rest of the world. he raises his right eyebrow at you, obviously not believing that you were doing nothing.. "do you need help? I could get you a new pair of clothes. this area is dangerous, did you know that?" he smiled at you, but it wasn't genuine at all. it was like one of annoyance...if he was so annoyed why would he offer a hand to you? it didn't make sense... you stared up at him from the floor, you felt like a stray puppy left in a box. and he was here to pick you up and become your new owner.. you knew this was probably a bad idea, you knew he was bad business. but.... you were so scared and cold in the rain..what would be worse than this? "yeah...I need help.." you spoke softly, you refused to look at him as you did so. you felt embarrassed....asking a stranger for help because of a stupid mistake you did with your own free will..you're pathetic... "great, I'd love to help you. follow me." he spoke, but it didn't seem like he was glad or happy to be at help at all.. he spoke with a deadpan voice, as if he was bored and wanted to get this over with. was this some sort of community service thing he has to do? help the homeless during the rain? whys he acting like he's being forced at gunpoint to do this... you got up from the ground, all wet and soaked in rain water. you felt so uncomfortable you wanted it to end..you grabbed your bag and followed him at a small distance... he lead you to a car. a black suv, it was clean and pretty...and it looked warm. you kept walking until you were right next to him, was he gonna let you inside the car? but you'd make it dirty and wet..and was this even a good idea??? heading inside a strange mans car in the middle of the night in the pouring rain.. but you didnt have much time to think much about it as he had opened a door to the car..the interior was a lot like him. clean, tidy and sleek... "well? get inside, don't worry about getting it wet. I don't mind." he smiled at you again, with the same fake smile that made your skin crawl because of the sheer eeriness to it. "ah- yes okay..." you crawled into the car, your wet clothes making a slight squeaky sound against the material of the car seat.. you set your bag next to you as he slammed the door shut...and it was pretty aggressive. the loud slam that echoed through the streets from it made you flinch as you stared at him walking around the car to the drivers seat.

you were sitting on the toilet, inside of this strange mans house...I mean, nothing happened yet so you should be safe right?... you turn to look at the shower that was running, waiting for the water to turn warm..and then you stared at the folded clothes. he grabbed some clothes he thought would fit you and sent you to the bathroom with it. you were confused, he was being nice..but for what? it seemed like he didn't want anything from you..maybe he was a little annoyed but he was still helping you.. he seemed normal.. you were so confused. he even put the clothes you were wearing and the clothes that got wet in your backpack into the washer. maybe humanity is just getting better and he's truly just a kind man who wants to help? you stare around in the bathroom, its almost all white with black accents. it was very modern and clean..paintings on the walls that probably cost more than your houses rent..because truthfully this man was obviously very rich. his house was huge and it seemed like he had rows and rows of guest rooms..it was impressive. maybe he was just a snobby rich guy that was trying to fix his attitude. so maybe that's why he seemed so annoyed and put off with you.. he was trying to fix his views on dirty poor people by helping them!! that had to be it..you just cracked the code!! you smirk to yourself and give yourself an imaginary pat on the back before checking the water to see if it was hot now..and when it was you stepped into the shower. the warm water fell onto your body, like it was engulfing you in a tight hug. even though you were in a strangers house, in an area you didn't even know existed...you felt like you were at home. taking a warm shower, getting ready to go out with your mom..... you and the strange man haven't spoken much, he just gave you clothes, put your old clothes in the washer, gave you food and sent you to a guest room.. he was cold, you'd expect a man that was willing to help a stranger from the streets to be nice..and warmer. but he wasn't. you were getting curious about him, what was his name? where did he work? why'd he even help you...but you decided to stay in your place. at the end of the day, you two were still strangers who would never meet again after this. the thought kind of left a pang in your heart. you wanted to know more about him..maybe..maybe he'll want to stay in touch..? but you highly doubted that considering how cold and silent he was. he probably just felt pity seeing such a young girl sleeping in the rain on the streets...he didn't do this to get close. just to make himself feel better.. that's how rich people just are.. you sighed and stared up at the ceiling of the room..you'd be out of there by tomorrow, left in the streets all alone again. you felt your eyelids getting heavy, you started to black out until you closed your eyes and fell asleep..sound asleep.

you woke up to the sound of knocking on the bedroom door, you could only assume it was the man that helped you last night because..who else could it be? you woke up, still droopy as you stretched and looked out the windows. it was bright out now...it was time to get up... you didn't want to but that didn't matter because this wasn't even your house. you got out of the bed and put the slippers the man gave you on. you pulled the shirt that was slipping off your shoulder up as you lazily shuffled your way to the door and creaked it open. you started up at the taller man, again in his neat suit and styled hair. he always manages to unintentionally..or maybe intentionally embarrass you. "still sleepy, huh? you should change and put your clothes in your bag. breakfast is being made." he flashes you another smile...a fake forced smile. its like he doesn't know how to smile or something...you just slowly nod your head at him before he turns around and leaves... you were hoping he'd get the sense of pity again and let you stay longer. you wouldn't mind being treated llke shit here if it meant you got to stay in this house. but of course..people don't like it when cockroaches sneak inside. you closed the door In front of you and did the bed. you didn't want to leave with a bad impression In case he even gets this weird savior complex again..you did the bed and packed your clothes, you headed your way downstairs to the kitchen with your bag in hand...that smell..it smelled like home. the smell of bacon filled your senses as you got closer and closer down the stairs. you haven't smelled something like that in the morning since your mother died, she would always make you eggs, bacon and toast. it was simple but you loved it. you just wished you had savored it more because with no shocker,, your dad doesn't cook. at all. you almost always order something and if you don't you're the one cooking. but even then, he always complains about how shitty your food tastes..even though you know its not true. you finally get to the end of the staircase, the stairs end right near the kitchen so you get a good look at what's going on. it seems he has a personal chef cooking up breakfast as he's sat at the table, sipping on coffee while on his phone. "ahem.." you awkwardly announce your presence to the man at the table, he stares up at you with a blank face. eyes full of nothing but darkness..the more you stare the scarier he gets. as if he were a walking body with no soul inside of him. "sit down. breakfast is almost finished." he speaks blankly, just like his face. something about the atmosphere feels a lot more awkward than before. it seems he isn't even bothering to smile at you like earlier...maybe something happened while you got changed? or maybe he's just not a morning person...you wouldn't really know but you started day dreaming. wondering about his life. maybe its because of how mysterious he is, or his face or wealth..you weren't really sure but something about him allured you. you wanted to know more even if he didn't want to know more about you. you didn't really care if the interest was one sided. you were just too curious... but again, not your place.. at least you felt like it wasn't..he was clearly not interested in having small talk with you. like at all. you didn't want to annoy him more than he seemingly already was. you wanted him to help you again because truthfully, no matter how scary he was or seemed..he was still helping you.. and you need the help. and appreciated it.. minutes passed and nothing was even muttered, a small cough or creak of the chair every now and then but that was it...and the silence was deafening. it was so awkward you could die..you were fiddling with your fingers waiting for the food, you almost just wanted to ask if you could leave now and that you didn't want to eat but.. that would be rude, and you didn't want to be rude. so you just sat still, letting the silence explode your eardrums. . .

"your food is ready" those four words felt like an angel had just saved you from hell, you were about to explode from the tension. and it wasn't the good kind. "ah, thank you!" you bowed your head at the lady that cooked the breakfast as she walked away.. you looked at your plate and then at the mans non existent one..he wasn't going to eat breakfast? he has seen your confused stares because he set his phone down and placed his chin on his hand, he was staring right at you. "I don't eat breakfast. I was just waiting for you to get your food." he stared at you before smiling at you, it wasn't as eerie or fake as the other smiles he's given you but..it was exactly genuine either. like a pity smile..something along those lines. "oh..thank you for waiting.." you bowed your head at him too before you began to eat..it was the same breakfast..the same one your mother had always made for you..what were the odds?..right? you felt yourself getting emotional, eating this simple breakfast just reminded you of your mother. but you couldnt cry Infront of this man...he'd probably just stare at you and do nothing about your sad state...you didn't feel like embarrassing yourself like that. not Infront of this stranger. . . . . "I finished..." you stare up at him, your entire plate is finished due to not eating all day yesterday. he stared at your plate and then at you, you felt kind of embarrassed..like he was judging you for eating.. "okay, should I leave you where I found you or at a house" he stared at you with a blank face, emotionless as he awaited your answer. you help in a frown at the way he worded it, sure he found you but...it felt like he was referring to you as if you were a stray animal. you bit the inside of your right cheek, you really didn't want to go. you wanted to stay safe in shelter but you didn't have a choice...you could either ask him to take you back to the place you dreaded the most, or a place you dreaded a little less... "take me back to the alley way you saw me in.." you stared at your lap as he nodded. he pushed his chair back before taking one last sip of his coffee. "follow me to the car." he pushed his chair back under the table as you got up right after him... I guess now my journey as a homeless person really starts now...I need to find a job soon...

time skip

its been a couple of days since the strange man helped you from the alley way. your delusional side tells you one day he'll be back for you so you sleep there everynight, letting a dumpster bin hide your sleeping body from those who pass by the alley way. todays its been awfully gloomy, cloudy, windy and cold.. you were hoping it wouldn't rain since you didn't want to stay there cold and wet again..and you highly doubted the man would be back for you if it did...you spent most of these days searching for a job, with no avail.. rejection after rejection ...it was wearing you down... how long would you even hold up for in these streets? you were barely 20 but you were already on the streets. not like you had a choice. it was either suicide or homelessness for you.. you decided to just take a break from searching for jobs today. you didn't have much money left from your savings but you had enough spare change to go to put your dirty clothes and buy an ice cream in the park nearby...you went looking around for a big enough plastic bag to cover your backpack in. you had a feeling it would rain hard again, you could smell it even. and you didn't want to play princess waiting for her knight in shining armor to come save her. you need to think ahead..and be smart..

as always..you were right. it was going to rain today, and it was raining hard. it brought you back to the day you were found by the man all cold and scared in the rain. you were lucky he didn't rape you, you were too trusting of him.. you were once again shuffled up in the alley way, wet and cold. you were sitting on the ground hugging yourself while your backpack sat next to you. at least you found a bag for it, at most it'd get a little wet but nothing compared to last time... your hair and clothes were soaked, you could feel water droplets form on your eyelashes as you tried to wipe away the water that was landing on your face with your equally as wet hands. you were scared..again. you were hoping to god the man would come back, you even place your backpack in view to the street and road Incase he passed by..he would know you were still there. your entire body was ice cold, your breath, fingers, clothes, you were freezing.. after a few hours of sitting in the rain you decided that it was about time you just go to sleep..no one was going to come by and save you again. you leaned your head onto the dumpster next to you and fell asleep. the sheer cold and wetness of the situation didn't leave your senses but..it was almost like you had forgotten about it while you slept. . . . "again?" you heard a voice, a very familiar voice..you jumped out of your sleep and looked up at the person standing infront of you. it was the man that had helped you last time this happened. you felt your cheeks warm up, both at how embarrassing this was, and how sweet (?) it was.. he came back to check on you. whether it was out of worry or pity, you couldn't tell. but either way it made you happy to see someone checking up on you. he just started at you, with the same dark, soulless eyes as always. he just turned around and started walking away. you didn't know whether you should follow him or not..but you trusted your guts and you did. he led you to the same suv as before, it even looked the same. clean, sleek..like you hadn't gotten it dirty that day you got in. "get in" he stared at you, waiting for your response. his sentence threw you off a little, it was as if he was commanding you...but you didn't pay much attention and got inside the car. watching him as he slammed the door again..and walked around the car into the drivers seat. he was still the same.. but in his defense its only been 4 days since he had helped you.

you two were sitting at the dining table, his cook had made the two of you steak with some veggies.. you weren't that hungry but you still ate to be respectful..the same awkward silence corrupted a seemingly 'wholesome' moment. you wanted to say something, it was itching inside your throat. you just wanted to ask his name so you didn't have to call him a stranger anymore.. but he still didn't seem interested. why the hell would he help you if he wasn't interested in even getting to know your name? this was the second time. and even if he denied it was obvious he went there for you..to help you. "you, what's your name." he had put down his fork and knife and stared at you, obviously asking you the question. but you still felt unsure if you should answer. what if he was looking at someone else..or what if he was insane and talking to himself..you were so lost in your thoughts you didn't even notice how his face was changing. he was getting irritated with you. "well? I asked you a question." his voice was more stern than before, his eyebrows were raised and he looked at you with an expression you couldn't read. it was probably annoyance though. "oh- I'm sorry..I've just been kind of out of it...my names y/n" you stared at him and give him an awkward smile. you fiddled with your fingers under the table, you didn't know if he was going to keep talking. "I can tell. well y/n, what are you doing outside all alone? don't tell me you're this young and so in debt you had to go homeless." he stared at you, his facial expression changing to disappointment. but you ignored that and processed what he said first, what does he mean he can tell? did he bring you here just to insult you?? you internally scoffed before shaking your head not to him. "I'm thanfully not in any debt... I just left my home for personal reasons.." you weren't staring at his face but you could tell his facial expression changed, he simply just hummed at you and took a sip of his wine. "what about you? what's your name..and how old are you? you felt it was fair to ask him questions back since he had asked you some. it isn't rude to just be curious right? "you can just call me sir. and I'm 42 years old.. old, huh?" he sarcastically laughed and took a sip of his wine. all that you were thinking was, why was he trying to be so mysterious?? "oh..okay..sir" it felt awkward calling him sir, what if it was a weird kink of his..he could've atleast given you a fake name if he wanted to be like that.. . . . . "thank you for helping me again sir" you bowed at him, not too 90 degree angle but just enough for your thankfulness to be clear. "I appreciate it." you smiled at him, and unlike his smiles..yours was genuine. you truly were happy to have been 'safe' from the rain. even if it soaked you for a while... you were at the alley way again, the sky still looked cloudy and sad. you were scared itd rain again but that's a worry youd have to think of for later. "youre welcome y/n." he just gave you another fakeass smile, the one that's painfully obvious like he's doing it on purpose before he got into his car and drove off. leaving you there to figure out what you should do if it does rain again. but you werent too worried..maybe he'd come back..?

history repeats its self, at least it was for you. you kept finding yourself hugging yourself for warmth in the same alley way, with the same rain pouring down on you. was this strange man gonna save you from this rain aswell or has he given up on saving you from the cruel weather. maybe its still you gulp up the courage to go back home because the weather was driving you insane. the mans help wasn't even helping , it was just giving you a false sense of hope. you sat there for hours, under the pouring rain. and even worse, this time it was thundering. your skin was cold and freezing, every inch of you was soaked in water. you wanted to melt into the ground, the scene was so pathetic. you were pathetic. . . . after what felt like an eternity you came to the conclusion he truly wasn't going to help you. you were nothing but a prop to fuel his ego.. you let your heavy eyelids close as the rains soaked you and everything around it... you would just sleep it out..and find somewhere to sleep that wouldn't leave you like this. . . . you fluttered your eyes open not long after you had fallen asleep. you weren't fully awake yet but you have a strange feeling that someone was looking over you...watching you... you turned your head and rubbed your eyes. you stared at the person watching you, it was the strange man!! he was here to save you from the rain one last time.. your eyes brightened as you stared at him, but something was off. he was holding something..your eyes were a little fuzzy so you couldnt see properly but you knew it wasn't an umbrella like always..he was also getting soaked in the rough rain. before you could ask him about it you felt something hard hit your head. like you've just been struck a pipe... you stared up at the man, eyes going droopy as you fell to the ground... did he just hit you? what...what was happening..why you..?

you woke up in a barely lit, red room. you were confused and scared. you didnt remember much.. just the fact that you were hit by some sort of pole and woke up here. did karma finally get to you for not helping your mom in her time of need? were you going to get raped and killed here?? you started to hyperventilate, you wanted to scream for help but you found it hard to even make noise..your throat was closing and it felt like you were going to pass out again.. your breaths were rapid and your body was shaking. you wanted to get away but you couldnt. your wrists were bound to a chair that seemed to be super glued to the floor. you were pulling at the restraints, you were gasping for air. your eyes were slit as they darted around the room..looking for anyone that could help you... "fuck you look so hot when you're scared" a figure walked out from the shadows of the room...it was the man that had been saving you from the rain??! his dark eyes pierced holes into your head, you were trying to process what the fuck was happening.. he stepped closer to you and stopped right Infront of you. you pushed against the floor and chair, trying to find a way to magically get away. your eyes were wide and filled to the brim with fear, your breathing only got worse as you started to let out choked sobs. "p-please..don't do anything to me please..please.. let me go....I wont..tell anyone..please" you closed your eyes shut, not wanting to look at the man that you were hoping just hours ago would come save you. when you wanted to be saved you didn't mean it like this.. your salty tears dripped from your chin onto the collar of the dry shirt you were wearing. it seemed while you were out he had changed you out of your wet clothes and into the same pair you had worn last time you were here.. your head held low as you were sobbing for your dear life, he hasnt done anything to you yet but you knew he was going to. his cold hands touched your chin, yanking it up to stare at him. the action only made you sob harder, your eyes still glued shut. you didn't want to look at him, you did- "open your eyes and stare at me if you don't want to end up dead." you flinched and opened your eyes quickly, your large eyes stared up at his. they were wet and teary...you just wanted to be free..you didn't want to be here..before you could act upon anything he leaned down and licked one of your eyes, licking away the forming tears that were prickling at the corner of it. you didn't know if this was some sort of weird kink of his or if he did it just to make you uncomfortable but you hated it. it felt uncomfortable and too in your space. you hated this foul man. disgusting. your face was a mixture of uncomfortability, anger and fear. and he loved it. "I love that weird face you're making, doll, keep doing it" he smirked at you..he was staring you down. making you even more uncomfortable than before. he was a freak, was he into peoples pain or something?? can he just let you go.. he stared at you even longer..inspecting every little movement your face made...he loved it. he loved seeing you in discomfort and fear. it fit you, really well. "ever since I've seen you I've been mesmerized... don't mistaken my words as a confession though. this isn't love. this is desire." he reached his hand out to your head, patting and petting you. ruffling your hair and making it all messy..as if you were his pet. "you know, when I saw you..I thought to myself.. 'little girls shouldn't be out alone'..especially in the rain.. where gross men like me could stick their slimy dicks inside you with no consequence." his hand wandered down from your hair to your cheek, down to your neck.. his large hand gripped at your neck, causing you to squirm under the fear he might choke you to death. his eyes and list scrunched into a smile as his hand pressed on your neck, watching you squirm under his grip. "I wouldn't kill you before putting my dick inside you. so calm down, will you?" he grips tighter around your neck as his other hand crawls its way down up body....

he stripped the clothes you had on from your body, you were sitting on the chair, naked. your wrists are still bounded to the chair so you couldn't move or go anywhere. you felt so gross. a random middle aged man was manhandling your tits, grabbing them so hard it left red marks on them. you were holding in moans, you were scared but fuck did his hands feel good on your sensitive nipples. but you didn't want him to know you didn't want him to know you were feeling go- "AH!~" you let out a mixture of a scream and a moan, his right hand had snuck its way down from your chest to your now wet pussy. he shoved two fingers inside, no warning, no prep, just shoved them in. only using the wetness of your pussy to help his movements. your back arched against the chair, you were moaning in both pain and pleasure now. he was handling you like a piece of meat, roughly 'massaging' your boobs and ruining your insides. he made rough scissor motions with his fingers, occasionally curling them inside of you. it hurt so bad, it hurt. so. bad. "you cried and sobbed like you didn't want this but look at you now. moaning under me. you were even wet when I put my fingers in. slut." his voice was deep and full of need,, he took his hand away from your tits before he slapped you. really hard. the skin on your cheek stung and was probably starting to turn red.. but it felt good..even thought you didn't want this, and all you wanted to do was go home...his fingers..they felt too good to go back. "fuck I wanna make you go through so much pain, I want to ruin you. fuck." his fingers continued to ravish your insides as he shamelessly started to rub his hard on. he was getting so turned on by this. a scared young girl, pleasuring the older scary guy Infront of her so he can make it out alive.. he wanted more. he took his hand out of your pussy, your clit was twitching. needy for more. you whined at him, you wanted to cum, you wanted to release.. you wanted it all... he scoffed at you before spitting onto your face and giving you another harsh slap. "stop complaining bitch, be grateful anyone would even want to fuck a dirty mutt like you." he tsk'd at you before turning around and grabbing something from a small box nearby. your heart was pounding, your mind was racing and your hole was pulsing. the way he disrespected you, the way he spoke to you.. it turned you on. were you just needy for approval and wanted to do what it takes to impress the guy? or maybe it was so you could keep your life..or maybe you were just insanely horny. you didn't even know at this point. you didn't know what was taking over you. the man turned around...holding a knife. you started to feel your heart race in fear again, your breath hitched as you tried to push away from the chair...and of course you couldn't. he stepped closer, and closer, an closer. until he was barely inches away from you. he raised the knife and pointed it at your stomach, pushing it into your skin.. not enough to stab you or make your bleed, but enough for it to hurt. it was like getting a shot at the doctors office that lasted too long for your comfort. you shifted under the knife, you were uncomfortable. not that scared but you were anxious..you didn't like the thought of a sharp knife being pushed onto the skin of your stomach that much.. "you look cute like this. I would cut you but I don't think it's time for that right now." he smiled at you, like you had just won a grand prize..and frankly you think you did. you didn't want to deal with more pain than what you were already feeling. he put the knife down, dropping it onto the floor. your pupils were blown. he looked so hot like this. it was scary but, hot as fuck. "opinions on getting your insides ruined?" he spoke, flashing his signature fake smile.

you were finally free from the chair, your wrists felt so much better. they felt less imprisoned.. but you didn't have much time to think about that as your insides were getting rearranged by the man you had once found safety in. you were in mating press, your thighs were rubbing against the skin of your stomach. loud gross sounds of skin slapping and wet pussy filled the room, he was filling you up. you let out loud unstable moans as he ruined you. his face was stuffed into the crook of your neck as he bit and nipped at it harshly. leaving dark bruises and hickeys on it as he kept slamming into you. your felt sweat dribble from your forehead as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. it felt. so good. you could hear him panting, louder and louder as his dick was hitting places you couldn't dream of reaching on your own. it hurt a lot, it felt like you were going to get split open any second now but..the pleasure..the pleasure of your pain and of his thick cock was flooding your brain. you'd worry about the pain later.. "fuck you look so hot when your insides are getting blown out" he grips at your neck, hard as he fucks you like a ragdoll. your hands fly to his, gripping and clawing at his hand. an attempt to unblock your airway, to no avail. his movements started to get rabid and sloppy, he was close. you knew he was. he let go of your neck, leaving a faint bruise due to his grip before he slapped your cheek again. the stinging, it only got worse. you felt like every inch of your body was getting ruined and beat. and truthfully, you loved it. "fuuu- fuuck.. sir- i- fuck..m' gonna cum! m' close! please let me cum! please please please!" your words were fast and sloppy, you were close, you needed to cum you needed it. he spat on your face again, making you feel like a disgusting piece of meat..but you loved it. you wanted to make him proud. he took his left hand and started to rub your clit as he slammed into you. each time it got faster and faster. "cum for me baby, show me how much you love my cock..fuuck.." you arched your back against the bed as it started to make a loud annoying squeaking sound from the rapid movements on it. "fu- ah~! fuckfuckfuckfuck yes yes please ah more more please ah ouh..~" your loud moans filled the room as you came all over his cock, leaving a white ring of sticky substance at the base of his dick. shortly after he came inside of you, filling you up with cum with a loud(ish) grunt. he didn't stop though, he kept moving, not only to help you out your high but to bring you to another. this man doesn't intend to stop until youre full of bruises and unable to walk..

Another note: I REALLY HOPE THIS IS GOOD, I fr spent all day on this (started at 8am, its already 8pm rn omfg) I hope I portrayed his character well, idk if I made him too mean or tame or wtv idk hshshhs, reqs are open!! pls check blog rules before u send them though:)

TAGLIST: @pollys-doublelife @gongyoosgf