#look up the ''red tower of death'' if curious

[mist-the-wannabe-linguist]

Getting mildly anxious over school and work-related responsibilities so as a way to cope I shall read about bad historical events until I feel physically sick and want to cry which is a totally reasonable and effective coping mechanism :D👍

[aziraphale-is-a-cat]

DPxDC Warlock Batfamily

They're not warlocks in the traditional sense, no fancy spell work or obvious theming. In fact, most anyone less magically attune than John would just assume they were metas like anyone else on the team, but they weren't.

It took a while to notice, just passing off the magical fluctuations around them as the ebb and flow of the natural world, or maybe some residual curse vibes from Gotham (ew). But it was too consistent. When Batman slipped into the shadows it pulsed, and when Oracle seized control of nearby computers it surged. When Nightwing took his inhuman leaps into the air simply trusting that he would reach his lading point it soared and when that nightmare of a Robin brought a room to darkness it rested like a heavy weight on his shoulders.

They weren't individual users, their eclectically cohesive group structure was too uniform for that; but they weren't some family of sorcerers either, being quite obviously unrelated by blood save for a few. The most likely answer was that they were all warlocks in service to some common diety, taking on aspects of its power to enforce it's will upon the mortal world- and John really hoped it was a helpful entity, because they were in deep shit.

Peeling the partially liquefied tentacle off from across his chest, Constantine sat up and brought his hand up to cup his bruised face. He prayed to whatever was least likely to hold a grudge that their little hail Mary there had bought them enough time to perform a summoning.

"Hey Bat, get your patron on the phone, this is getting fucking Eldritch."

"What the hell are you talking about," Hal Jordan pushed himself out of the rubble with a massive green fist construct. "Bats isn't a magic user."

"Hm." Batman grunted as he picked bone shards out of his gauntlets. "I'll need to get something for the ritual."

Everyone present sat up to look at him like he'd grown another head, except Superman and Wonder Woman who seemed a little excited.

"I'm sorry, you're a magician?" The Flash pipes up from behind the ruins of an old altar, only to receive a level glare from his black clad coworker.

"Warlock."

"Oh."

Constantine grabbed onto some chains hanging from the precariously damaged ceiling, rising to his feet. "We don't have much time; that thing's off licking its wounds in space or something, but it'll be back. You go off and collect whatever artefact you have from wherever you hid it and I'll start drawing the circle, where are we pulling your Patron from?"

Batman nodded in agreement. "The Infinite Realms."

"Fucking Hell."

-

The Watch Tower was crowded when Batman returned flanked by two other members for his little hero coven, carrying a small case decorated with constellations and nebulae.

Wonder Woman stepped up to look at the container, obviously curious, but not touching it.

"It will be wonderful to see him again, Batman. After this is dealt with I hope to hear the tales of my sisters from beyond."

"He'll definitely be happy to chat after we're done," Nightwing commented. "I hear he's been training with Pandora."

Red Robin nodded to that, an exasperated look on his face as he likely anticipated a long and drawn out conversation about different kinds of swords. Amazons liked their blades.

John gave that idea some concideration, Amazonian ghosts probably get up to some killer fights without having to worry about, ya know, death. He called out to the Dark Knight, "I've got the circle done, now we just need your call."

The three of them walk over to the summoning circle unceremoniously carved into the watch tower floor, Batman narrowing his eyes at the damaged paneling but saying nothing otherwise. The Dark Knight opens the case in his hands and pulls out what appears to be a small model space station.

The Coven spread themselves evenly around the circumference of the circle and Batman begins the ritual. "Salve patrōnem, egō stellam vocō." He throws the model space station into the circle where it appeared to float as the symbols in the ground lit up.

Slowly, a figure formed in the center, first as hands holding the model and spreading out over its arms and to its body in the shape of a young boy. He seemed to be wearing a black rubber hazmat suit with white accents and green lichtenberg figures crawling up his left arm. White hair appeared and with it piercing green eyes that seemed to be fixed on the toy in his hands. A cape flowed out behind him less like fabric and more like the endless void of space littered with stars and a cold weight settled on the room.

"Damn B, y'all really fucked up the floor this time."

Red Robin snorted, "Nice to see you too, Danny."

[cherubfae]

𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰~! || {𝔥𝔞𝔷𝔟𝔦𝔫 𝔥𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔩}

You think you're being sooo sneaky leaving all these sweet love letters for your favorite guy. You're not. They 100% know but if they'll do anything about it is another question entirely.

tags: gn!reader! but implied male/masc reader for Angel ofc :3 mostly fluff!! mildly suggestive in Luci's & Vox's, slight angst for Angel, mention of alcohol consumption in Husk's! Alastor being his usual self lmao

Alastor

You must think you are quite the clever little thing, leaving such sweet notes around for anyone to find. Little letters you think he doesn't know come from you. His shadows haunt every crevice aware of all that goes on within the hotel's interior, and especially those that dwell within his radio tower. It is amusing watching you slither into his abode to leave yet another sweetly decorated note on his control panel while Alastor lurks within the darker corners of his tower. Scarlet eyes soaking you in like a lion hunting a gazelle.

Then, like smoke, you slip out the hatch and down the ladder towards the hotel as quickly as death. Trying to seem casual, whistling an off-key tune.

Curious, he grins. What a curious creature you are, hmm? He picks the letter up, his red claw caressing the crease of the seal. His name stares up at him, written in exquisite cursive and emboldened red ink he wished was blood.

With a single claw he slits open the top of the envelope with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel, withdrawing its contents that had piqued his interest. Immediately, his smirk widens. Positively Cheshire-like.

"My, my, darling. You are endearing, I hope you know that!" Alastor cooed with crackling static. He traced his finger along the penmanship.

He pictures you hunched over your desk fretting over such a delicate piece of stationery. Your words oozed admiration for the Radio Demon. How truly touching! The sentiment was most definitely mutual. Next time, he'll be sure to catch you in the act, little lamb.

Lucifer

The King of Hell was quick to move in upon Charlie's insistence. Eager to make up for lost time with his daughter, he takes on all sorts of tasks and attends every event she has planned. Every team-building exercise, there was Lucifer at the forefront; lest his rubber duck depression returned.

Initially, he's quite confused by the sight of a white and gold foiled envelope placed neatly on the center of his pillow when he returns to his quarters to rest. He's never seen his name written with such care. The scent of love and genuine fondness exudes from the small parcel and tempts his senses. It catches him off guard, a puff of hot air escaping his lips, blinking owlishly.

He's lightheaded as he reads the letter with one hand braced against the wall beside him. An apple-red blush coats his cheeks and creeps down his neck. The scent of you clouds his mind and corrupts his thoughts. He's starting to feel dizzy yet oh-so-happy!

You... You wrote this didn't you, sweetling? Red eyes wash over the page. He closes his eyes and presses the letter to his lips as he leans his back into the wall. It's surely from you, but why didn't you just come and talk to him instead of being all mysterious and cryptic? Has he not made his affections for you clear enough? Perhaps you were shy and felt more confident in staying anonymous.

Lucifer couldn't promise you or himself that he wouldn't go and find you immediately after he calmed down enough to be well-composed in a public space. He was practically vibrating with excitement.

Shaking out his hands and jumping in place, Lucifer straightens his tie. If all goes to plan, he'll have you snuggled in his warm embrace as he flies over Pentagram City before sundown.

Of course, he will make sure all six of his massive wings are preened and looking their best first. Hey, he is the King of Hell after all! He's gonna show off for you a little.

"Alright, darlin', I hope you're ready for a night on the town." Lucifer sucked in a sharp breath and exited his room swiftly making his way to you.

Sir Pentious

Sweet man is so flabbergasted! Surely this is a prank, yes? No? Oh my, then that must mean--! His pupils dilate and water, a big cheesy grin sneaks across his cheeks. His tail swishes behind him lightly and it's hard to fight the blush off his cheeks. It takes everything in him to collect his breath as he clutches the letter to his chest.

"What'cha got there, boss?" Points out one of his Egg Bois. Sir Pentious all but squeaks and shoves the paper unceremoniously into his breast pocket.

Pentious rasps, "No-nothing that needs to concern you!"

"Oh, okay!" Chirps his Egg Boi, waddling off.

Sir Pentious sighs, slitted eyes wander over to where you sit at the bar engaged in deep conversation with Angel and Husk. There's a weird tug in his chest he's never felt before. A longing. You catch his eye and give a gentle smile and offer him a tiny wave which he returns eagerly. He sighs dreamily, coiling in on his tails. I hope I may catch you at a more opportune time, my heart.

Angel Dust

Whenever he's had a particularly rough night at Valentino's, Angel retrieves a pastel blue shoe box from deep within his closest, almost completely filled to the brim with letters, gifts, and keepsakes you'd given him. Even the silly little half-assed doodle you made of him as a spider. He saved it all.

You're so cute, thinking that you're all anonymous when you are absolutely not, leaving him the cutest fuckin' letters that make him want to explode. It's nice. Having someone want you and not for sex. The pure heart of gold of yours was gonna be the double-death of him.

Angel hasn't quite worked up the nerve to ask you out yet. It's something he ponders every day, especially when reading your newest letter. He feels too stuck, too... Fucked up. That's not something he'd wanna put on you. You've never treated him like anything but a person. You saw the real him.

Instead, he lives for your letters. Wishing things could be different, that he could find the power to cut the contract with Valentino, and truly become yours when he's no longer that fucker's pet.

His eyes well with tears as he cradles your latest letter, praising him for how well he'd done at Charlie's little team-building experiment. He pretends it's you that he's holding. His fingers combing through your hair, smiling to himself when you lazily lean up his body to kiss him ever-so-softly. A true kiss made of real love, not lust. You snuggle into his chest fluff with your arms around his waist.

"Baby, I," with a blink, Angel is back to reality. The weight on his chest had only been a snoozing Fat Nuggets. Angel sighs, stroking his little buddy's ears. "Maybe one day, I can be strong enough for both of us, baby." He says out loud, hoping your heart will find his words.

Husk

He's quick to snatch the new letter up before anyone else sees, sending his half-drunk whiskey all across the countertop with a clang. Husk cussed under his breath, stashing your thankfully dry letter beneath the bar for safe-keeping until he could read it later.

"Why'dja gotta leave it out in the open?" Husk grumbles without malice. The playful sway of his raised feathery tail and soft hum as he wipes up his spilled drink was always a good sign of his rare, pleasant mood.

You're growing more and more bold with each letter. Leaving them places where someone other than Husk could accidentally misinterpret them: Charlie.

The last thing he needed was the well-meaning Princess of Hell to overextend herself and start playing matchmaker. Husker was doing just aces on his own. His love life was his and his alone to fuss about. He finished cleaning up the bar for the night, keeping the booze secure in its display case until the following day.

Husk peruses the letter freely in the privacy of his bedroom, one arm folded beneath his head. His golden eyes flicked from word to word. His pupils expand as he exhales an airy chuckle, lingering on the word handsome. The sound of his own trill rumbling in his throat startles him enough to drop the letter and slam his elbow into his nightstand.

Hissing, Husk pressed his palms against his shut eyelids. "Fuck, baby, ya really got this ol' cat comin' undone, huh? Sneaky little minx." He lied back down with a huff. "If only ya knew." His eyes slip shut. Tomorrow. Husk would finally approach you tomorrow.

Vox

"I see you still don't wanna text these, huh, baby?" Vox scoops up the letter taking residence on his seat, hastily clawing it open. He plops down on his chair, leaning back. "Too shy to be so vulnerable for me?" Vox's sharp-toothed grin spreads wide across his display screen, red dripping from the corner of his mouth as he hungrily drinks in your words.

"You are too fuckin' cute, aren't'cha, darlin'?" Vox chuckles, smashing his fist against his console with triumph. A bolt of electricity spirals around the system, causing him to yelp as it spans across the entire city. He created another blackout. "FUCK."

Vox is at your doorstep in a matter of minutes despite the darkness of Pentagram City. The forever-flushed red sky is light enough to find your apartment building. He's dressed in a new suit and feigned ignorance when you opened your door, holding a new letter. Surprised to see him there. Hah, caught with your hand in the fuckin' cookie jar, babe.

Allowing him into your home, Vox easily towers over you with a big grin. You looked fuckin' adorable, staring up at him so meekly.

"You didn't need to hide your feelings from me, sweetheart." He gently tilts your chin upwards. A single cyan claw grazes the line of your jaw, sliding to cup your cheek with his full palm.

"Vox, I," you stammer. Your sentence goes no further than those two small words. Vox traces your lower lip with the tip of his sharp thumb, smiling as your eyes flutter shut. He waits to see if you continue to speak and when you don't, he nods and tugs you to him by your hips. You gasp against him and he smiles, a bit softer now.

"I know, baby. I've gotcha," Vox's mouth presses tight to yours, lifting you up further into his arms for better access. Electricity soon ignites the house and city, Velvette must've gotten things running again.

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[thevoidstaredback]

Tim was curious. Maybe a little addicted to whatever the hell was in that coffee, he's still standing by the point that no other coffee will ever be enough, but that's not the point.

He wants answers. The Justice League want answers. No one has been able to get them. Because Phantom stays in the House of Mysteries, no one but the JLD can actually get time him. The Supers have tried listening out for him, but magic is something they're weak against and therefore can't hear through. Batman has tried to get into the House, but he's been sent everywhere else for his attempts. They would track him down as a civilian, but no one actually knows if he has a civilian disguise. It's very hard to hide hair that starkly white and skin pale enough to be blue.

Regardless, everyone wanted answers and Tim was determined to be the one to get them. Why does Phantom claim to be thirty-eight, fourteen, and eighteen all at the same time? Where did he come from? When did he die? How did he die? What the hell is in his coffee because damn was it good!

Off topic.

Tim had the rest of the Titans return to the tower while he stayed out. It'd be easier to track if he was the only one doing it. Besides, these guys work with Raven, they won't hurt him. Probably.

The fact that Phantom apparently smelled like death was another concern Tim had. Was it because he was dead? And what did Constantine mean that 'the smell lingers'?

More questions kept popping up like goddamn daisies, and there was no answers to clip them down. Tim was getting frustrated, to say the least.

***

Danny made an effort to at least try and help Constantine with the demon problem the building was having. Honestly, it wasn't even that bad, in Danny's humble opinion. The demon was just messing with people, not hurting anyone or stealing anything! He was, at most, planting minor inconveniences everywhere.

That's not technically his monkey, though, and it was most definitely not his circus. He figured he'd offer to be helpful, though, if only so that Constantine would owe him a favor. A favor he already knows how he's going to cash in.

"Why'd you really want to tag along?" Constantine asked Danny while they searched for the demon.

"What do you mean? You offered to bring me along."

"Yeah, but that's because you need to get out of the House more."

"Funny, coming from you."

"I spend more time outside of the House than I do inside." the Brit scoffed, "Now tell me why you agreed to come along. This is demon hunting. You only ever go ghost hunting."

Danny sighed and ran his left hand through his hair. Not that he could feel it, stupid nerve damage. "Deadman's been on my ass about my first trip to Gotham. I would've left to go find some place to crash, but the entire Justice League is also on my ass for some reason! I'd honestly rather not have to face any of them."

"You've been to Gotham?" Constantine asked, "When?"

Danny groaned, "Not you, too!"

"Whoa, okay, okay. You don't need to share with the class."

"Sorry."

"You better be."

"Hey!"

"Now tell my why the JL proper are after you?"

A sigh. "You remember at that meeting when Red Robin mistook my drink for his?"

"Yeah. Hard to forget. You freaked everyone out a little bit."

"Yeah. Turns out they all have questions that I don't want to answer. Avoiding them all has been the best way to not answer."

"You know you can't dodge them all forever."

"I know, but I really don't want to have to explain anything!" he whined, "The questions that they'll end up asking are gonna be really painful to answer."

A raised eyebrow. "How do you know what they'll ask?"

"Because everyone always asks the same things. Worded differently, but still that same."

"Then refuse to answer."

Danny met Constantine's eyes with a deadpan glare. "You're gonna look me in the eye and tell me that the Justice League and their sidekicks will leave me alone if I tell them 'no'?" He shook his head. "Lying's a bad habit, old man."

Constantine rolled his eyes as he went for his lighter, remembering they were were in a no smoke zone and retracting his hand. "Don't sass me, brat. Wonder Woman and Superman, at the very least, would back off. They'd get everyone else to, too."

"What about Batman and his brood?"

"Touche." the man said, "But you can't hide from them forever."

"I can try,"

"But you'll fail."

Another groan. "Can we just get this thing over with? I want to lock myself in the basement and wallow."

Part 5 Part 7

Tag List:

@zaiothe4th @someonebored0100 @wolfeyedwitch @angelheartgamer @nymanders @princessbelix @luminanightfall @kgne-k @bianca-hooks123 @reigning-catsanddogs @sassywombatranchhorse @dontfightmecauseillcry @soul-lime @anarinette @serasvictoria02 @the-chaos-goblin-child @confusedshades @caicie @fantasticstoryteller @randomshtickidk @itsberrydreemurstuff

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (part 10)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds 📍 Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smutty💦

Part 10 Good Deeds

Alastor takes you out as promised, but work/hobbies call him away. Not that you mind, you have your own hobbies to pick up.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, references to racial violence, reference to a word that’s now very much a slur, Hate for Aubrey, inaccurate portrayal of how easy it was to drink, oh yeah murder, mentions of a dismembered body, bloody shoes, physics hijinks with a corpse, these idiots in love, gators aaaaaye baby, domestic fluff?? Kind of?? Did I do it?!」

I think about Emmett Till often. Though his heinous murder came after the time this story is set, what happened to him wasn’t an isolated incident. So it is referenced here in a sense, because I can’t stop thinking about him when I think about racial violence in the south both what it looked like before and what it looks like now. I don’t say anything explicit and change the act, but it is still important to warn you. If you don’t know about the tragic death of Emmett, here’s a site with links to articles and essays. Be careful, it is awful and his deceased and battered face will come up on some links, as his mother wanted the world to see what they did to her baby. It’s an image I cannot forget and I rightfully shouldn’t. I know it’s off to have such a heavy topic before this love story but this case is the kind that would motivate such a killer as Alastor, and I don’t want to miss an opportunity to remind us of Emmett’s short life even if it’s done in a silly fanfic surrounded by nonsense. So forgive me for perhaps an odd real life addition, I’d be disappointed in myself for not addressing it when Emmett has been on my mind every time I think about the era someone like Alastor could have lived in. An era that did exist and people did live and suffer in.  An era not far removed from us, my father was alive when this happened.

Part 10 - Good Deeds

minors if you interact I will interpret that as a deep hate for me as a person so MDNI 👌🏼

“I’ve got to speak with the valet, go on ahead and find a table you like.” 

You didn’t want to do that at all, but knew Alastor wouldn’t ask if he didn’t want it. Well, he didn’t really ask, did he? He was certainly in his element, the shining and towering hotel every bit as pristine as his own public image.

It was as if every head in the room spun around to look at you. Everyone’s hair freshly styled, jewelry shiny and heavy, clothes immaculate. Your dress was lovely, no doubt, but no one looks at the elephant in her tutu at the circus and proclaims, “A ballerina!” This was, rather obviously, not your scene.

Alastor had presented the dress to you so sweetly, though. You woke up to find it hanging on the closet door hook, the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes. He had either waited for you to fall asleep to hang it or woken up before you for just the reason. It was red, his favorite color for you. The latest fashion, loose and straight. No corset. The neckline showcased a large, flat bow. 

“Partly a gift for me,” he had said as his hands slid down your sides when you had gotten dressed, “Such softness shouldn’t be hidden behind rigid boning.”

You settled into a large seashell shaped booth, the back coming up and over like you were the speck of sand yet to form into a pearl. The table was small, a glittering pattern under its shiny veneer. Everything was…glistening. Even the darkness past the windows seemed to be sparkling back at you. A few people turned to look you up and down, smiling and beginning to speak to their group before even turning back to them. 

You could wither, or bloom. So you learned back as if you were bored, legs crossed and feet gently shaking with anxiety or boredom, you hoped no one could sus out which. 

It was so odd. In your usual haunts, newcomers were greeted with curious smiles and maybe the tiniest suspicions. You were being picked apart to the bone by sharp stares and even sharper tongues, no matter how silent their jabs were to you. 

“They’re probably jealous.” Your head snapped up, when had Alastor made it in? “They look at you and know, ‘oh, that’s the kind of woman my husband would rather have a conversation with.’” You laughed, you absolutely could have stolen the attention and more from at least one of these women’s husbands.

“Perhaps they recognize these earrings, gone missing from their jewelry box earlier this year.”  You weren’t above accepting a woman’s stolen jewelry. It was her husband's fault anyway, might as well enjoy it. 

Alastor’s finger came to your chin, lifting your face further into the light, “Give em a good look, darling. I want them to eat their hearts out.” The blush that swept across your features was so fierce, the difference in temperature between your cheeks and your arms caused a chill to run down to your shins. He took a seat beside you, scooting up close and flashing that smile. A smile that had you chasing him into dark alleys and grabbing dead men by the ankles. 

A waiter came by, placing a drink in front of Alastor and asking what you’d like. You were so used to being in such spaces with the kind of men who answered for you that you didn’t reply immediately. When Alastor brought his drink to his lips, you realized it was you who was expected to speak. 

“Oh! A corpse reviver please.”

The man smiled and left with a nod. Alastor choked, hitting his chest with the fleshy part of his palm, “That was intentional, wasn’t it?”

You danced in your seat, “I’ve never been somewhere that has the stock for it that I was…allowed to order what I want.”

Alastor set his drink down and leaned back, shoulder pressing into yours teasingly, “I can’t imagine anyone disallowing you a thing.” With a sigh, you reminded him of the things you did to get your marks drunk and off their guard. You were surprised when he nodded like he remembered. “I saw that! You would sit so quietly on their laps. I remember thinking you were much more boring than you had initially made me believe.” You recoiled, and he shot you a look, “Who stalked who first, hm?” 

With a huff, you let it go. You weren’t actually sure the answer to that anyway. Focus let free from Alastor, you began to notice the looks were back. But no longer cutting into you, but wide and devouring. A few smiled at Alastor, some tipped their heads to him and offered a look of recognition. “Aren’t you popular.”

“I haven’t been out in awhile. They’re probably curious.” He took another sip, “Should be, atleast.”

A prideful smile slid up your face. You uselessly tried to mask it by licking your teeth. 

Something that happened when in public with Alastor that was unlike you was the tendency to become small. Not shrinking to provide him space; it was a turning in of your shoulders and touching of your knees in a subconscious effort to curl into a little ball of joy. Actively fighting the tug, you leaned back and opened your chest. An exercise in mental focus. 

“It’s weird. How you can be friends with my kind of people and….well, whatever is happening here.” Your hand waved at the room before you both. 

“My friendship with these people compared to our friends at the dives is…. A light bulb compared to a fire. One was manufactured to fit a need, one exists somewhat naturally.”

Tall and slim, body flat from collar bones to knees, a slip of a woman entered the room and you felt a shift in the atmosphere. Her hair was short and pitch black, fashionable to say the least. A few heads turned, a few upturned lips shifted into sneers. Side glances, hushed words, intentionally heard huffs. You turned to Alastor to find his face was as confused as your own. 

“Who is that?” You said it low, not knowing if she was friend or foe. 

“That would be Mrs. Aubrey Debreaux. Popular socialite and frequent hostess.” A sip of his drink, speaking about her like a character in a novel. “This icy reception is news to me though. She’s usually the life of the party.”

“She’s a real wet blanket now…Your circles seem really fickle. Always a bit of gossip.” You realized as soon as you said it that, well, that was the point. Alastor needed the gossip, and, well, he clearly enjoyed it.

“That’s what the wealthy do. Gossip and pretend the drama is as stressful as someone looking for their next meal.” Swirling his drink absentmindedly, his eyes followed Aubrey through the hotel bar. When you asked if he knew everyone there, he said it was his job to know people.

“Your job is in radio. You host a show, Alastor.” You laughed through your nose.

“Well, my other job.”

“I’d call that a passionate hobby.” Your hand came to rest half on his and half on the booth bench low and hidden, not wanting to monopolize, but he quickly took it and held it on the table. Another struggle to keep your shoulders from drawing inward.

The room moved on, forgetting you both were there and eventually about Aubrey too. Or so you had thought. When you drink was starting to mellow you, you turned to Alastor to admire the view. You’d come to enjoy that silence, the kind that only existed between people comfortable enough to know they didn’t need to entertain each other to enjoy each other’s company.

He was scanning the bar still, elbow on the table as he rested his chin there. From a distance of space or familiarity it could be seen as boredom. But up close and personal, you could see the wheels spinning behind his eyes.

“Golly, when in Rome!” Alastor hooted and grabbed you by the hand with one of his and carried his drink in the other, “Let’s go gossip. Bring your drink.”

He pulled you into a group of four people in a circle talking. They opened and let you both in, smiles warm. A clamor of excited ‘how long has it been’s, ‘how are you’s, and ‘you look well’s.

You’d expected him to ask for gossip like he’d said, but realized that’d be pretty conspicuous. Instead he waited, and when Aubrey passed by one of them rolled their eyes and he had his opportunity.

“What’s that look for?” He asked. 

Everyone got quiet and passed a glance between them. Finally a woman in a beaded dress and finger wave bob piped up.

“She reported a young boy touched her on the street.” Alastor watched Aubrey cycle through the groups as the friend spoke. “Grazed her hip with his hands, made a comment about white women as he did it.”

Alastor’s head whipped back around. “He got taken away that night.”

You gasped, hand coming to your mouth in sincere horror, “Just for touching her? Is he still in jail?” 

The woman’s lips pursed together, no one looking at you.

“Bless your heart. He didn’t touch her and he didn’t make it to the jailhouse, sugar.”

Suddenly the way everyone was looking everywhere but at each other sunk in. 

Panicked, you looked to Alastor. His expression was still, like the calm waters of a deep and foreboding bay. What horrors lie underneath? His tongue wiped across his teeth, and you reached out to take his drink from his hand. The action snapped him out of his daze for a second, expression softening a tad as he nodded a thank you.

If he shattered that glass now, people would remember. And when Aubrey went missing they may recall Alastor’s dramatic reaction. You knew his smiles intimately, the ones that were true and the ones that were illusions. The expressions of joy and the mask for his rage. The smile painted on his face now was nothing short of shallow.

You spent so many days in a bubble with Alastor, shielded by his grace or by the accepting and illegal circles you ran in that you sometimes forgot the reality of life. A dark privilege you hadn’t seen until you were the one looking naive for once. 

That’s right. The world was a bad place, of cruelty and injustice. Not just for you, or for parts of you, or for sides of you. Not just for women with smart mouths or a love of dance. No matter how safe the comfort of your friends and the dark halls you all commiserate in, no matter the like minds and mixed complexions of your peers, you were all just one cruel voice from being dragged into the night. Just a single accusation from being a whispered story in a glittering hotel bar. A headline no one would write. 

And some of you would be mourned more than others. 

You took a second, blinking rapidly to dry your eyes. 

“Apparently, she did it to get Hubert to leave his mistress’s apartment and come home.” A short man whose name you never got took a drag of his cigarette, “Worked. He’s been yapping all week about the state of New Orleans society and the importance of protecting the fairer among us.”

Alastor was quiet still, lips tight. You’d seen the photos in his home. You’d never discussed it, no need. Things can’t become normal if you’re always pointing them out. Plus, that was his piece to share. 

“Glad to see most of us here aren’t too keen to welcome her. I’d hate to have to find another bar.” Someone said, glancing around the room. “George just started making my martinis right.”

“Care to dance?” Alastor abruptly turned his entire body to you with a slick swivel on his heels.

You nodded, offering small polite goodbyes and setting your drinks back on the table before turning to him.

His open palm was outstretched and offering you a dance. You spread your hand over his and felt him hold you firmly before pulling you into him. 

He held you so close, much closer than anyone else on the dance floor. A scandalous lack of distance between you two. Quiet, Alastor’s eyes were distant. You were in front of him but he wasn’t seeing you. You let the song carry on a little longer for appearances before sighing into a smile.

“Why are we dancing when you have work to do? You have your tools.” Looking up at a man was rarely a view you enjoyed but the way his eyes slid down his nose and landed so sharply on you made it worth it. A look that said he’d devour you if he didn’t adore you so much. Your hand snaked behind his back to touch the hidden outline of this trusty little knife. He briefly wondered if this could be considered foreplay, the way he felt your hand on his lower back and running over his weapon. Much more intimate than he’d ever let anyone else be.

As your bodies swayed, the lights slid across the curve of his eyes and lit that bright honey brown color like a diamond twirling in the sun. The facets of his irises mesmerizing you. 

How terribly did you love him? 

How far would you fall for him?

“This would be a long one. You’d be waiting… could be a couple of hours. I need to be out of sight before she leaves.” A chill. Oh, you’d forgotten for a second, Alastor was a killer. He didn’t do it for ‘justice’ alone, he enjoyed what he did. Immensely. His voice had a note of giddiness and anger that didn’t mix well, but was oddly arousing. 

“Correction, I’d be dancing for hours. Drinking. Letting handsome men waste their money on me.” 

“Oh? Can they buy me a drink, too?”

You brought up your pointer finger, “You remind her of her humanity, and I’ll get a man to buy you a drink.” 

He linked his finger with yours. “I’ll need to give her special attention. She’s earned it.”

You loosely understood this wasn’t attention like you’d be given. This was attention that ran opposite affection. 

“I’m not here to be in your way, Alastor.” A quick kiss to your hand, one you hoped no one else saw. While no one here would be bothered by Brady, you still wanted to keep some semblance of confusion on what you two were to onlookers. 

His laugh was louder than you expected, a few heads turning, “Impossible. I’m always going wherever you are, dear.”

Would you never get up again?

“I’ll stay at the bar. If they close, I’ll just go to Beth’s.” Your fingers lingered in his, “Be careful. The best good deeds are done in the dark.”

A kiss to your nose. So gentle despite the topic. You could imagine it, the violent death of a woman. You could hear the sounds. Hers, his, the knife’s. A pang of guilt set in before you could remind yourself why this woman was going to die. A tiny smile settled on your face, he offered you a gentle command in return, “Understood, honey. Be safe.” 

You let him kiss your hand again and bow out of  the dance. You were doing it, it dawned on you as you watched him walk away. Truly kissing him goodbye at the door as he went off to work. The closest you’d ever gotten, atleast. 

He stopped by a group and said some quick goodbyes, apologies for leaving early, and left the hotel bar. 

You knew he had killed women before, Alastor was all for equality, but a part of you worried. Women tend to scream louder, and be heard more often, than men. A man screams and people just…keep walking. What would he do? Where would he do it?

With a sniffle, you let the jealousy of just what he would need to do to get her alone flutter away. Taking a seat back at your table, you sipped your drink and watched the others dance and chat. How odd, they could sway in such large places with big windows and bright lights with no fear of cops. Your scenes were dark, dusty, never seeing the sky. 

“He left ya?” One of the earlier women came by, someone you vaguely remember him nodding a ‘hello’ to at some point in the evening. 

Thankfully you were still quick on your feet. “Well, we came separately, of course we’d leave separately.”

A laughed, “Of course.” She leaned down, touching at your hair for a second, curiously, “Don’t hold your breath. But, it is nice he got you in here, huh? Must be a treat for you.” 

Your own laugh was just as abrupt as Alastor’s earlier, your hand coming to hide your smile. All you could muster was a nod. Yes, you stood out. Yes, you didn’t fit in with these people for many reasons. But, it wasn’t your first time in nice spaces. First time not pressed into a man who’d been made to believe he was more important the whole time, but still. 

It took two more drinks for Aubrey to leave. But there was a problem. As she was trying to bow out of the room, a man kept hooking his fingers under the loose belt of her boxy drop waist dress.

With practiced skill, you took note of where her eyes lingered on him, how her hand came to his arm but didn’t actually press him away. Not earnestly.

The pushy man saw it too, every little soft ‘no’ was a half ‘yes’. And Aubrey seemed to like that. It was almost ironic, given what she had done, how she egged on the younger man before her now by pretending she didn’t want him. His hand landed on her hip forcefully, her hand on his chest gingerly. He leaned in close, she pulled away barely.

The next act was the most classic to women of your era. The false exit.

Aubrey whispered something, he nodded eagerly and his many hands returned to himself.

She smiled at the back of everyone’s heads, as nearly no one would look her way, and she slipped out the doors.

You couldn’t stop yourself from shimmying as you slid from your booth. Barely a step away, you leaned back and grabbed the last sip in your glass. You swished it around your mouth like listerine, and swallowed it. Before you got too close, you pinched your cheeks until your eyes began to water.

You’d just found a way to make yourself useful.

“Whoopsie Daisy!” You giggled, shoulder colliding with the man’s chest as you stumbled past.

“Watch - ooh, hey,” the free hand that had come to keep you from getting closer quickly softened, curling around your waist. The same hand that’d just been on the socialite. You were sure to look up and sigh into him, your breath soaked in alcohol. “You okay, doll? Had a bit too much?”

With glassy eyes you nodded, closing them and letting your head nod lazily, “I lost my thing!” You laughed, hitting his chest.

“Your what? I happen to be a thing.” 

How quickly he forgot his target when easier to pick fruit appeared.

“No, silly!” A practiced hiccup, “my little…”

“Your little…?”

Your fingers wiggled in the direction of your hip.

“Purse!” A beaming grin. He asked if you needed help finding it. “Well, how else am I gonna get another drink!” The hand on your waist fell to your hip and slunk lower. 

“Oh well, I could help ya with that.” He leaned in, looking around first as if he had a secret, “I have a room upstairs.”

You tutted, “No no, I am a married woman!” He lifted your left hand, turning it over in a dramatic search for a ring. “Well, engaged…” you diverted your gaze. He lifted his hand to his brow then and scanned the room like a sailor to the horizon. “He’s working late.” You whined.

Why did his kind of man always want the taken woman? Did they think the chase was more meaningful then? Did they feel like they’d won some tug-of-war with an invisible, unaware opponent?

Maybe they were hardwired to hoard resources.

You let him seat you at the bar, and when he ordered you a drink you asked to know your savior’s name. William.

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Alastor was none the wiser, smoking a cigarette under the streetlamp just off to the side of the hotel awning. He didn’t smoke often before you, but he found the lure of sitting on the porch passing a pill between you both too hard to fight. And soon enough the habit grew from a drinking pastime to just… something to do with his hands.

As Aubrey appeared, waiting for her driver to retrieve the car, Alastor tossed the butt to the street and walked up on her.

“I’m quite cross with you, Aubrey.” His tone was smiling as his hand slid behind her neck and tugged her away from the safety and lights of the awning.

“Oh! Alastor, I’m actually waiting for my car.” She struggled to keep up with his pace in her heels, weakly pointing back to where the valet had stood earlier. She resisted a little, the palm on the nape of her neck silently shutting her down.

“Nonsense. We have business together.” Alastor let his hand fall to her upper arm as he yanked her into the closest side street. “I hear you’ve been a very bad girl.”

Aubrey huffed, pulling back against him once, then twice, but ultimately acquiesced when she could see his car down the street.

“Fine, you can drive me home then.” A misplaced giggle, her survival skills dulled by ego.

He tossed her roughly against the car, hand gripping her face tightly. She tried to say his name, but his hold was so firm her jaw was locked.

“You’re going to get into my car now.” Alastor’s eyes had lost their pupil, an expanse of a seemingly endless dark brown in the heavy shadows left by the lamp’s light. When he let her face go, she rolled her eyes and pulled open the back seat door.

That wasn’t what he had meant, not there, but he closed the door behind her and got into the driver’s seat. He hadn’t brought the tarp tonight, not expecting to need it, so maybe the backseat was his best option regardless.

When he pulled away, she reminded him he didn’t know her address.

“I’m not taking you home. I told you. I have a bone to pick with you.” Alastor found himself incapable of putting on a ruse for her. His patience was entirely lost in his unraveling anger.

“Oooh? A bone, you say. Well, well.” Aubrey leaned forward onto the front seat, hands snaking down his shoulders and chest so she could nip at his ear, “Finally letting me have a ride.”

He had to set his right hand in the darkness of his lap to hide the tremble, a disgusted rage manifesting in uncommon ways. 

As her fingers found the buttons of his waist coat, Alastor struggled to see the road in front of him. His vision was going white, and then red. His blood pressure was so high he was nearly blind. 

And when two hot fingers broached the small space between buttons of his dress shirt and touched the bare skin of his chest, the car came to an abrupt halt. The force threw her into the backseat. 

Alastor slammed the front seat door shut before opening the back and caging her in. “I can’t stand another second of your existence.” She crawled backward, making room for him. “I’m going to fucking kill you.” 

Aubrey settled her back against the opposite door, “Oh, the petit mort.”

His head hung low in frustration, a growled  “No, the big one.” as he raked his fingers through his hair to keep from punching his own car seat.

“So I’ve heard.” She pulled up the hem of her dress slowly.

“For fucks sake Aubrey! I’m not using double entendre!” His hands wrapped around her neck. “Must I really remind you of what wrongs you’ve committed?!”

A brief panic finally came, “Wrongs?? Excuse you.”

He could have sworn the snap in his brain had been audible to her as he lost his last bit of patience.

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“Excuse me.” You settled back into the seat, having taken a bathroom break to down some water in secret. You weren’t trying to actually end up blacked out.

“Anyway,  that's how we secured the riverside house.” William leaned into you. You tried to sip your drink and found it empty, having managed to finish it absentmindedly while he rambled on about himself earlier. As you stared at him you let your eyes lose focus and drift into plans for the morning. You’d like biscuits. Alastor had some sausage he’d picked up the other day, maybe a little gravy and some eggs. It’d be like a Sunday meal nice families ate after church. You assumed. Out of the peripheral of your daydream you saw him tap the bar twice and hold up two fingers. “Charge to 1033.” He said. With the clarity of someone who wasn’t pretending to be drunk you quickly held up three.

William shot you a confused look.

“One for my darling.” He made a show of looking around, the bartender pausing. You gave him a confirmation nod, “Three, please.”

“And is he in the room with us now, Helen? I’m beginning to think he’s imaginary.”

It seemed a fine enough name to give him.

“No! But I made a promise. Or…,” you returned the lean, head resting on his shoulder, “are three drinks a little steep for you?“ With a huff, he pulled out a pair of C notes and set them on the bar. The bartender nodded, reaching for the top shelf. You whistled at the sight. Too much money for the total seven drinks he’d ordered, if you weren’t somewhere Alastor frequented you’d have slipped them under the lip of your stockings when the man wasn’t looking. He was charging the room anyway, the large bills were just for show…

“One reviver for the miss, one brandy for the sir, and a rye whiskey neat for the beau.” The bartender set the drinks down on red napkins. The whiskey sat between you both, and after a beat you realized you hadn’t actually told him what to make for Alastor. And come to think of it, your last drink hadn’t been a reviver at all but a brandy ordered by William.

“Ya know I stood up another woman to help you,” he said it into your cheek, stealing your attention by breaking your line of thought. His arm around your shoulder curled to hold you closer, “Don’t I get a reward for that?”

His breath reeked of sickeningly sweet brandy, the taste sticking to the back of your throat. Your head tilted back so you could look at him down your nose, right hand coming to rest on his thigh.

The heat of his body was radiating through the fabric of his pants and made your stomach turn. How many hot and sweaty bodies had you had the pleasure and displeasure of touching?

A smirk painted your face, remembering seeing sweat sticking to Alastor’s forehead the last time he fucked you. What had you done for that reward? Ah right, the somehow shocking act of not withholding praise for how well planned out his greenhouse was. How impressive he was to you in so many ways. You could have lingered on that recollection, on how Alastor set down his coffee and kissed you. And how he didn’t stop until you were both left undone and flustered. But movement stirred away the pleasant memory to bring you back to an unpleasant reality.

His hand roamed down your arm, uncomfortably warm palm on your exposed skin. 

“Oh, I know you did.” You said.

William chuckled, absolutely no idea what you were talking about and not particularly giving a shit. “Did I mention I have a room here?”

“Ten thirty three.” You repeated. 

He looked genuinely shocked, “How’d you know that?” The man was absolutely mystified.

“I— you just…,” your mask slipped in the face of such abject stupidity, “Lucky guess.” William drank his brandy slowly, mentioning you should bet on the ponies together. You nodded. 

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Alastor didn’t care for strangulation. It took so much time and wasn’t particularly satisfying. No pleading, no screaming, no blood and gore. Just…. someone flailing beneath you and turning purple. Boring. 

He brought up the accusations before he began to squeeze, and her panic transformed to relief. “Oh that?” She tried to sit up, but he pushed her back down, “Are you really miffed at me about that?”

“Yes, Aubrey! You condemned an innocent child to a horrid death!” His hands loosened, all of his neurons firing off to feel pain in his own heart. 

She rolled her eyes, “I wouldn’t call them children. You seem so upset, hun. Did you have a mam-?”

The rest of the word was barely squeaked out of her, he couldn’t let her finish it. He wasn’t sure what face he made. But whatever it was, it scared her. The carefree way she’d been handling the interaction finally died, and he could register actual fear in her eyes then. 

But the rage just … withered. How many children had his mother loved and doted on before her last, much kinder position? How many Aubreys had she raised. It was nothing short of an overwhelmingly violent sadness that laced his finger together around her neck and tightened, the full weight of his body coming down to crush her airways. He wanted such sentiments to be smothered out of the world like the air in her lungs. If he killed enough, could he make a dent in their influence? He could try. For her. For his mother. 

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“Ya know, I could take real good care of you. If that’s what’s stopping you from coming upstairs.” 

With a deep breath, you gulped the drink halfway down. “Your fella doesn’t need to know. I could even get you your own place, you could wait for me there when he’s late with work. Have dinner ready. Slip off my shoes like a good girl.”

“Trust me; you’ve got a better chance of her smacking you with your shoes than slipping them off like a maid.” Alastor was resting his elbow on the bar behind you, head leaning on his hand. “Hey doll. That one mine?” He pointed at the glass.

“Oh? Alastor is the fiancé?,” William gave off a snide laugh as he was interrupted, Alastor standing up and walking to come between you two, “This guy?! Everyone knows he’s a frigid bitch. You must be a dive alley-cat if you’re—,” Alastor’s fist connected with the man’s jaw, eliciting a sickening crack. He needed both hands to keep himself from falling down with William as he was knocked back out of his bar stool. Alastor’s feet slipped on the spilt brandy, causing him to seize the stool for momentary support.

Alastor took the glass of whiskey with his non-dominant hand and downed it. He cooed, “Top shelf, Georgie?” The bartender nodded. “Good choice. Picked a worthy sucker, sweetheart. Ready to peel?”

You watched William try to stand, glass stuck to his palm. He did manage to get on his knees, shouting at the staff who stood motionless and unphased behind the counter. They didn’t say anything at all, oddly, until Alastor extended his swelling hand to you.

“Have a good evening, sir.”

Alastor flashed his signature smile and guided you out of the hotel bar. You only got a few steps before quickly running back and snatching one of the 100$ bills from the counter. William would’ve taken it back from the bar anyway. What a waste!

When a waiter offered Alastor a warm and familiar look you had to wonder, did people really not know what he did in the darkness of the New Orlean’s alleys? Did a part of them not feel some kind of debt to him? Or was he just painfully friendly when socializing?

“Just to be clear,” Alastor let the doorman open the lobby door, “It’s not the accusation of sex work that compelled me to sock him. It’s the implication you’d be cheap.” He waved the valet from the car and opened the door for you, “If you chose to sell your companionship at true worth, his daddy’s money couldn’t even buy him a kiss.”

“Aww,” you smiled at him through the thin windowpane, “Would you really be so cavalier about such a job if I did?”

“Would I? Gosh that’d make retirement much quicker for me.” He slid into the driver's seat and the door shut with a sharp ting. As he took hold of the wheel he reclined to let his hand settle behind you on the backrest, and then you three were off. 

“Oh by the way, Aubrey’s in the backseat.”

You turned slowly, first coming into view were her tiny, shining silver shoes. Your eyes kept traveling; stocking covered calves and then the bottom of her dress just past her knees.

Alastor’s coat draped over her torso and shoulders caused you to flit to him, confirming his jacket was gone, and back to her. 

Her face looked like that of a sleeping passenger. 

No blood.

When the car was a few blocks from the hotel, you leaned back and lifted the jacket. Her abdomen was clean, the white of her dress pristine. At first her neck seemed clear of cuts or abrasions until you rode past a streetlamp and a beam of light revealed the slowly forming collar of bruises.

Special attention.

For a hair of a moment you began to gently cover her again, before remembering her crimes and dropping it on her unceremoniously.

“Trunk not good enough for her?”

“Got interrupted. Booked it back to you.” He shook his head and patted the seat in tandem.

What luck that just as he felt sure she was too far gone for revival, he let go over her neck and sat up in time for someone to notice him. Fishing in his jacket draped over the seat, he found his cigarette case just as—

“What exactly are you two doing?” An officer was flashing his light through the passenger side back window.

Alastor froze, Aubrey motionless between his legs and a cigarette dangling unlit between his lips. “You startled me, officer! We were just canoodling. But she’s gone and fallen asleep before the main event.”

The officer’s brass light shone down but couldn’t reach the dead woman’s face past the shadow cast by the car door and glass. “She alright?”

Alastor’s eyes drifted down to the deceased socialite, “Truth be told sir, she’s had a bit too much of the giggle water.” Fishing your lighter from his waistcoat pocket, he lit this cigarette before setting the jacket over Aubrey like a gentleman.

“Alright y'all better get lost. Tell your moll this ain’t ladylike.” The officer tapped the window with his knuckle and when she didn’t stir just left with a huff.

Alastor was quick to leave the backseat and drive off, circling around at the next block to head back to the hotel.

“Is… everything alright?” You asked, very obviously concerned.

“Peachy! I just said we were necking before she passed out drunk.“ he leaned over and kissed your cheek, “Anything exciting on your end?”

Patting his leg you beamed up at him, “Always so quick on your feet! I don’t know why I worry so much.” His face lit up and you wanted nothing more than to launch into a praise filled rant that fueled his smile. But, you moved on to the question at hand. After a moment to think, you remembered ‘the best good deeds are done in the dark’. “Nope! Just got tipsy on William’s dime. An odd woman did touch my hair…,” you recounted every second, leaving out why you chose William, to Alastor. You hadn’t meant to, and he hadn’t actually asked, the evening’s events just seemed to flow out of you. The way he always added little comments and nodded made it feel like a conversation and not just you rambling. 

When the car was pulling into the driveway, you asked Alastor if you could drive it behind the house. Puzzled, he put it in park and let you sit between his legs. You started slowly, but quickly began to accelerate. As you approached the house you turned sharply to the left, right side tires ever so slightly leaving the ground. A sharp correction to the right to straighten out. One of his hands clutched you at the waist, the other gripping the seat.

He tried to form some kind of words but they came out a jumbled and panicked mash of sounds as you barreled toward the greenhouse. 

You slammed your foot on the brakes and Aubrey flew off the back seat and hit the floor with a loud thud.

“Ha!” You slapped the wheel, “I’ve been wanting to hear that sound the whole drive!” 

He used both arms now to squeeze you appreciatively, “You’re just the bee’s knees.” Alastor nuzzled into the back of your neck, truly feeling his heart flutter. You made him skip a beat. So many days and nights not even imagining such a pairing.

The best scenario he could think up was a partner who wouldn’t ask questions, who didn’t care to know, who was maybe a little too naive but otherwise capable. Even in his wildest dreams he hadn’t dared to think someone would exist who could support him.

And not just in the killing, which was a hurdle of course, but the other parts of him. The little sacrifices you made for him without complaint. 

What did he do for you, he worried. Your body was his on the occasions he wanted but never did you ask for him. You shared the housework equally. Yes he drove you around but your skills with the car were still new. Insignificant things, like making your coffee when he awoke first and waiting for you after work. With the detective still looking for connections, he couldn’t even properly introduce you or flaunt you around to his circles.

Like a flash of lightning taking down a tree, insecurity shook him. What on earth was keeping you there? Of all the people in New Orleans, how was he any more worth your time than the next?

If anything, he was nothing short of troublesome. His hold on you twisted from thankful to desperate.

Even the lovely evening out he had promised you, he’d left you alone in a strange place. A stranger had bought you more drinks than he had. 

“Would you like to go to the woods with me tonight? To dispose of Aubrey?” His lips swiped across the fabric of your dress as he said it.

The sudden advancement into his hobby took you by surprise. You hugged his arms against you, “Really? Are you sure?”

“If you don’t want to…”

“Is that what I said?”

“Well, no….”

“Don’t put words in my mouth! I absolutely want to go!” Your arms squeezed his.

He chuckled into your shoulder and gave your hip a pat, “Let me get her packaged up. You go rest your feet and I’ll come get you when I’m ready to go.”

You watched from the kitchen, the light he hung from the greenhouse ceiling setting the entire space aglow. When he finally emerged, his sleeves were rolled up past his elbows and his hair was falling into his face, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose before he could push it back into place. He waved from the porch, and when you made it out to him he was already pulling out small bundles.

“We’ll bury the pieces in separate places.” He dragged out a small trash tin with the lid already clapped down. “And this goes into the water.”

The packages were like Tommy’s, but smaller. They fit easily into the trunk, and beside them he snuggly fit the metal bucket.

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The Ford was parked down a dirt road far from sight, taking a parcel at a time and a shovel, you followed him into the woods. 

You had to ask, why not just his land? Wasn’t that safer? Easier?

“Well, a skull found out here is easier to act shocked about than on my property.”

The ground was still soft, but you could imagine it was rock solid in winter. “Isn’t this dangerous? Aren’t you slowed down in the colder months?” You kept your eyes open wide, adjusting to the pitch black of the forest. The trees were too close and too full still to see the stars. But soon they’d brown and die, revealing the sky’s light. Revealing Alastor.

“Eh it’s mostly busy during mating season because the hunters come out in numbers. But in general I avoid being here in the very early morning hours.” He paused and you reached out for the shovel for your turn, “It’s not too bad overall.”

“They mate in fall. It’s almost fall now.” You widened your stance for balance and began to dig. 

“Yeeees but I’m not alone!” He chirped.

“Fine… just, don’t come out when I’m not able to join you. Just wait or, I don’t know, burn them or something.” You tried to dig fast, wanting to spare his injured hand another turn.

“Very ineffective, brings too much attention and the body never burns all the way. It’s still identifiable in many cases.” Alastor said it quickly, as he’d had nearly a lifetime to think of these things and test them. 

You huffed, “Well, fuck. Okay. Still.” You leaned over and offered your index finger, not looking at him as you did. He laughed before wiping his hand clean on his pants and hooking his with yours. 

A small scream erupted from you, startling him. Your short heel sunk into the dirt when you leaned to lock fingers. The sudden loss of balance startled you. “Sorry… flat shoes. I need flat shoes…these are gonna be the death of me.”

Alastor’s hand came to his heart, pounding in his chest, “Of us. My heart nearly stopped.”

You dug many holes, all of them quite small in radius, just wide enough to slip in what you needed to. After each was deep enough by some standard you didn’t know, he would untie the twine around the package and let the contents spill out and down into the little cylinderical pocket of dirt. 

The first package had her hands. Then next was her feet. Her arms in pieces and then later her legs. The hips, the chest and shoulders, and finally, her head. You were grateful for the darkness, not wanting to see her face now that it was no longer attached to her body. 

The brush was so thick and the woods so dense that you found it hard to distinguish the burial spots once they’d been filled in and covered up. He explained most people came out there with a purpose, not really noticing some disturbed dirt here and there. It’s not like they’re people sized.

“You’re just something else, ya know that?” You said it into the shadows and didn’t see him wince. But you somehow, accidentally, knew to clarify, “I’m always so impressed by your way of doing things. You’ve really thought it out well huh? I know I should worry less but it’s hard.”

Because of the shade you didn’t see the way his shoulders relaxed. You never made him regret your inclusion.

Alastor carried the bucket as you slowly made your way through the darkness. You could hear the sounds of bugs, though you couldn’t see any.  The water surprised you, his arm coming to stop you from walking into the bayou.

“In winter they’ll get really still, so I slow down then too. But we still have time, it’s not too cold yet for them.” He took off the lid, the smell of copper blossoming from the tin.

With practiced moves, he tossed the viscera as far as he could into the small inlet marsh of the river. 

Within seconds the water frothed and rolled with the snapping of powerful jaws.

“Gosh they’re so neat.” You said, reaching out into the darkness for his hand. You couldn’t see him looking at you as you watched the prehistoric animals dispose of his crimes.

He wanted to kiss you. To confess every little happiness you filled his formerly hollow chest with. But he held back. He knew better. He’d tried before, once. When he thought settling was better than nothing. It ended terribly. It was better to just exist beside you for as long as you’d entertain his company. If you knew, he thought, of all the futures he imagined with you, you’d just feel tied down by his hopes. You weren’t a small bird he could hold in his home. 

You promised to not get in his way. The least he could do was not cage you with his love. He wouldn’t hold you back.

“Alastor.”

“Yeah?” He said dreamily.

“I think… ” You fought the urge to scream at the sensation between your toes, “Aubrey dripped into my shoes.”

Alastor yanked the bucket away from you, the angle he haphazardly held at it with a single finger to hold your hand having caused the liquid remains to leak out.

“Ankle boots. Ankle boots, no heel.” You muttered, the shoe rinsed off in the water with a paranoid speed now squishing under your sole. The action was enough to draw attention to your shore, long and round snouts moving toward you in the night as you got rid of Aubrey. It was time to go. 

The drive home was dark and silent. The bucket and tarps rinsed with the gas can full of water he always kept in the oversized, custom built trunk. It had taken longer than you had realized, which just brought up renewed worry for his sleep schedule.

When you finally made it home and into the bedroom, he mumbled it was too late to shower. A coordinated grumble between you that you’d both just wash the sheets in the morning. Alastor sat on the end of the bed and bent down, your hand coming to his shoulder to stop him. 

Exhausted, aching, and quite confident you smelled of sweat coated dirt with the tiniest hint of dead Aubrey mixed with alive William (blood and brandy, respectively), you lowered yourself to your knees. You untied the waxed laces of the right shoe, made of a shiny brown leather, and slipped it off. 

Alastor felt his throat tighten as he had to blink to keep tears away. You always seemed to listen when he spoke. Really listened, even when he was just being playful. Another tiny sweetness piled onto the mountain you were currently burying him under. Another ounce of inadequacy tipped on his self measured scales.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Hush, I don’t have to do anything.” You said it and he laughed breathlessly knowing he’d heard it before and praying he’d hear it forever. “I want to.”

You set the left shoe beside the right. When you didn’t stand but instead stared at him patiently, Alastor undid his pants and lifted his hips to push them down. You folded them neatly beside his shoes. Feeling up his legs as if you couldn’t see them there in front of you, you found his sock garters. 

“Keep the socks, please. It’s getting chilly.” He undid his shirt and folded it on his lap. 

When he was in just his underwear and socks, you looked up at him and wondered if he knew. That this was the closest to expressing “I love you” you had ever been. The act itself perhaps far louder than any words could be.

Sitting back, he patted between his legs like he had in the car. As you sat, he undid the buttons down the back of your dress. Why were so many women’s clothing items made in a way that required two people?

In the mirror above the dresser you took in the sight. When the dress fell to your waist he kissed your shoulder and met you in the reflection.

“Quite a pretty couple, if I do say so myself.” He rested his chin where he had just kissed and smiled at you. “What did I do to deserve your attention?”

“Affection,” you corrected. “Aubrey got attention.” He nodded slightly. “I think it’s karma.” You watched his brow arch. “You’ve earned me. Whatever that means, or looks like. We were put together for a reason.”

It was the sappiest thing you’d ever said and a year ago you’d have laughed in someone’s face for saying it. If a character in a novel spewed it out in a confession you’d have closed the book. But you meant it. Every single word was part of the fact this was supposed to happen. The idea that any timeline existed where your paths never crossed gave you the shivers.

Alastor closed his eyes, exhaustion catching up quickly as comfort opened the door for it. That didn’t make any sense to him at all. Why would anyone, god or the devil, give him something good just for the sake of being a good thing. He was very plainly bad. There must be a catch. That fear he felt before, the fear of wanting something too much, reappeared. Turning its ugly head to him as if called by name. 

Why? He could feel something, someone, setting their sights on him. 

When he opened his eyes, you were there still, looking at him. A smile too sweet. He felt the compulsion to tell you to run. That if this was his karma, it would end the way he deserved. And he didn’t deserve happiness. He didn’t deserve you.

But instead he leaned down, lifted your dress, and unclamped your garters. He wanted to be selfish. He wanted to cling to what good he had now. Even knowing he couldn’t possibly get to keep it. His fingertips delighted in rolling down the delicate nylon. He watched the red stained end loosen around your toes, a mental note to burn them before he continued his undressing.

“Lift your hips, my love. I’ll get you all ready for bed.” As he pressed forward and bent into you so he could slip off the stockings he turned to look at the you in front of him, “And I’ll keep you warm.”

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

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, @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

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@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[dusterbishop]

have you come here to rescue me (all of this can be broken)

summary. || three timelines, you have watched remy lebeau die. you didn't believe you would earn a fourth chance to save him until you find a variant with no memory of his past, lost in a void of existence.

pairing. || gambit x f!reader (past relationship with current enemies-to-lovers)

count. || 2.7k

notes. || posted on ao3 here. warning for character death and violence. thank you for all the kind comments and likes! i'm happy i could share this with such a talented fandom.

part one. || part two.

You and Gambit meet before, eh?

Many times

Mais, pleasure’s mine, chér. Gambit’s never forgotten a beautiful woman

You draw your next card at random, and find yourself flat on your back, the back of your head still slick with the blood that pools beneath you. The hit from behind splintered your skull, but this body merely festers with a fading migraine. It is the closest you could get to avoiding death without skipping from this reality entirely. The pain has to keep you anchored, because you can’t count on Gambit to know what to do to keep you here.

Gambit, for his part, stares down at you. He looks like your Remy, which seems like such a strange thought to have. Of course he looks like Remy LeBeau. That is who he is in every lifetime. And yet it makes perfect sense that you halt upon this revelation for the very same reason.

Every Gambit is Remy LeBeau, and yet this one looks like Remy. He has the same strong jawline, the same furrow of his brow, the same black-rimmed red irises. He towers over you, the line of his shoulders set back and perplexed, at least until he crouches down to be closer to your level. Every movement is fluid, graceful. No sign of pain or hesitation. No snarl of distrust or blank expression of disinterest.

Found ya’, chér.

You would laugh if the back of your skull wasn’t just recently smashed in, new body or not. The daze of death’s lingering touch keeps you still as you stare back up at him. He had promised you would meet again, hadn’t he? In another lifetime, at least, he had. You are not the same body that he had been in love with, and yet some part of you can still smell the smoke in the air and feel the buzzing of kinetic lightning across your skin.

He is not your Remy. Not even if he’s looking at you with that same curious intensity. Gamblers could never refuse the call of the cards, and you have a stacked deck.

“Watch it, Cajun,” you tell him. Your voice is scratchy, grating the back of your throat. That explains the weariness in your joints, then. This version of your body is sick in some way. “I know how to wave a stick.”

A knowing laugh escapes him. “Oui, saw ya’ wit’ it. Don’ threaten Gambit wit’ a good time.”

Right, the flirting. Of all the swamp-dwelling boys you could have ended up entangled with, you just had to choose the one with that damned silver tongue. This version of Gambit is no different than the thousands of others you have witnessed in terms of that, at least. Perhaps thousands was even a conservative estimate. How many times have you crossed lives only to find a stranger wearing the face of the man you love?

God, you’re tired of it all. You don’t think you can handle another Gambit right now.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you sigh. “I’m not staying long.”

“S’il vous plait, you should.” He’s smiling, but you know that look in his eyes. Your gaze falls to the inner folds of his coat. You can barely make out the stitched lining where he keeps his cards, but you know that its there. He always had a habit of stitching the pockets in the same spot. Your Remy liked to command full control of the kitchen table to spread out his coat and ensure straight stitching. The cats liked it, too. You would come home to find them all clustered at the table, Remy idly scratching Oliver’s chin while he assessed his work, the other two boys stretched out languidly with them.

Gambit notices your attention, and his smile goes flat. “Where’ve you been my life, eh?”

“Could ask you the same thing,” you shoot back. The fatigue starts to settle deep in your bones. Maybe this body wasn’t sick when you borrowed it. Maybe this is just the effects of your time-skipping leeching over to another form. Your body feels like its burning a low-grade fever. “I don’t want to argue with you, Gambit.”

“Argue?” He looks almost offended at the mention of underlying tension. “Mon chér, you wound me. Dis is a civil conversation, non?”

“Don’t you get tired of talking?” You know he doesn’t. The two of you have spent so many hours sparring both in the danger room and verbally. He likes to make you take the backfoot in both fighting rings. At least, Remy did. This Gambit seems… off.

He almost seems familiar.

“Not when I’m talkin’ to you,” his smile edges with that coy charm. “Why don’ you tell Gambit about your travels?”

It feels like dunking your head beneath tumultuous ocean waves. Your gaze jolts to his eyes. His biggest tell had always been the way his pupils expand, consuming the ringed red of his irises. In some light, at some times, it almost looked as if he didn’t have irises at all. Just an all-consuming gaze of ink-black.

He looks that way, now, staring down at you. Black-eyed and smiling like a rogue, his elbows perched idly on the curve of his crouched knees, hands freely dangling between you. Unarmed, almost, if not for the weight of cards pressed against the cuff of his sleeves. That brand of stitching is new. Your Remy would have been absolutely delighted to see that sort of innovation as much as he would have groaned about not doing it himself.

“Ace up your sleeve,” you say instead. Your head is rattling with a desperate panic. How does he know that you can travel?

Gambit flicks his wrist, the air rushes, and a splayed set of cards stare back at you. Four of a kind. A handful of aces, in fact. Your Remy would be in absolute stitches over it.

“Some, oui,” he says. He looks just as pleased with himself. He always did like to be the smooth-talker. The air whirs with quiet trepidation, charging, turning metallic in the back of your mouth. One of his brows raises the same moment you half-raise your arm, reflecting the same suit of cards back to him. His fingers reluctantly slide closed on empty air.

“So do I,” you tell him. You hold steady when he goes to take them back from you and nearly yank your arm out of reach when his fingers close over your wrist instead. He’s wearing his gloves, but even the slight warmth of his skin pressed against yours makes your mouth go cotton-dry.

“Houdini,” he remarks.

“Not quite,” you whisper.

“Non,” he agrees. He studies your hand for a long moment. The cards are his, of course. You had shifted time just enough to reach across it and claim your prize. Nothing more than a parlor trick in the light of what you have done lately. What is a suit of cards in the face of endless, staggering realities? If you don’t like the way a restaurant cooks a dish, you can cross time until you find the same dish cooked to mind-numbing perfection. If you miss the city bus because it showed up three minutes early, you can change lifetimes to delay the driver by five minutes, the extra two minutes only for good measure.

If you lose one Remy LeBeau, why not venture out to find him again?

And again?

And again.

You know the answer, now. Maybe part of you always did, yes, but the answer is staring you in the face. You cannot ignore him any longer. You cannot skip timelines and pretend that there will never be a Remy like yours again. He was yours because he was not perfectly brought up as a child and ended up with some nine-to-five office job and a three-bedroom home with a white picket fence. That Remy does not have an interest in a strange paradox such as yourself. Neither does the Remy LeBeau that ends up being a schoolteacher, or a stay at home dad, or a volunteer at an animal shelter.

Your Remy was imperfect, and that was why he was the only version of himself that you could love.

This version of Remy LeBeau is still holding onto you. His grip is firm, but not bruising. He’s holding you fast to keep you with him, not to hurt you. You’re too tired to attempt to escape. Every muscle in your body feels leaden and overworked. That’s the other answer demanding your attention, but you let the revelation slip from its leash and ignore it.

“I know what you are, chér .” His grip doesn’t change, but there’s a dangerous riptide swelling in his tone. “What you do.”

“Wayfarer,” you say. It feels flimsy to say it like this, laying flat on your back, Gambit poised gracefully beside you. Remy had been rather nonplussed with the title when you first told him about it. Non, mon coeur, you are Wildcard. Not even Gambit knows your next move.  

“You travel, d’accord?” With the hand still holding you fast, he rubs the calloused pad of his thumb against the rapid flutter of your pulse. It’s nearly enough to make you flicker out of time itself, consequences be damned. His next words are a wistful purr. “You can leave.”

You aren’t sure why the surprise that lances through you hurts so much. Of course, he isn’t your Remy. You know this. He may smile and banter and touch you as kindly as Remy does — as he did, past tense, it’s all beyond your grasp now — but that does not make you something for him to cherish.

It does, however, make you something to use.

“I am always here,” you start, settling into this waltz slowly. This was the other part of your existence that used to confuse Remy. Some part of you hardly understood it, either. You don’t know how every part of a jet plane or automobile works either, though, so it doesn’t phase you much anymore. You had tried to explain it with the T.V. analogy, like your other versions were playing on different screens even if you aren’t tuned in, but that only served to confuse him more. He did enjoy your choice of explanation in some way, at least, by fully indulging in references from his favorite T.V. shows. The conversation had derailed into you hitting him with a pillow, and then you had both unraveled into a different sort of banter.

Not that Remy ever let you get the last word, though. Tuning the channel, he had said seriously, as you had writhed beneath his touch in a breathless rush. Smart-mouthed, smooth-talking swamp boy.

“Some part of me stays here. A variant,” you continue. Gambit waits, those slivered-red irises trained intently on your expressions. How strange to have him staring at you with such suspicion. You could never lie well to Remy LeBeau no matter the version you stumbled across. You could hold back, yes, but he would always know anyway. You have learned to stop hiding from him. It is inevitable that you will admit your life to him in some way, either by choice or by necessity.

“I am here,” you say. “Like I’m sitting in a coffee shop in Paris, reading the morning newspaper, playing the crossword. I can see the empty grid in my head. I know the clues.”

There’s a familiar furrow in Gambit’s brow. You’re suddenly glad he’s holding your hand before you end up surrendering to the urge to reach out and smooth it away. Not your Remy. A touch from you is not the sort he hungers for.

“Paris, eh?” He presses his thumb to your pulse. You wonder if he feels the leap in your heart beat at the touch. “Wha’s got you wandering da Void, then?”

“I didn’t choose to be here,” you admit. “I got… reset, I guess. My mind went to the next version of my body available.”

“Reset sounds awfully dire, I t’ink.” He gives you a pointed look. “Wha’s got you?”

For one long, awful moment, you almost tell him the terrible truth. You almost tell him that you went looking for a version of him that was familiar enough to soothe the gaping hole in your heart. That you found a Gambit that was witty and kind despite his shitty upbringing, one that liked to make you laugh and could keep up with the practice drills you still put yourself through. A Gambit that wasn’t afraid that you would one day vanish and be replaced by some version of yourself that he didn’t love.

You want to tell him that you found a Gambit that you had wanted to keep safe, and he was shot in the back trying to do the same for you. You tore yourself apart to take down the men that did it to him. You died with him and you still woke up within one breath and the next. You had to wake up and hear his voice, except this is not the Gambit that died because of you, this version does not know what he holds onto so tightly.

You want to tell him that three other versions of Remy LeBeau died just as terribly, and you just keep spinning the roulette wheel, and you just keep living.

“That version of me died,” you say. “Shot in the stomach.”

He’s looking at you as if he has never seen such a phenomenon. You suppose, technically, he hasn’t. He used to be one of the lucky ones that didn’t know you even existed. There goes that winner’s streak.

“Do’ya have t'die to… reset?”

You think about lying again. God, you wish you could. “Not always.”

He raises a brow at that, but you don’t offer to elaborate. Instead, you let the cards in your hand release from this reality with a soft whir of energy. Your head feels stuffed with cotton, or perhaps rocks. Maybe this is your mind finally burying itself alive in rebellion of your time-skipping antics.

“Tell ya what, chér.” His fingers loosen their grip on your wrist only to tangle with your own, intertwining your hands. Your breath catches. It’s the only split-second warning you have before he hauls you up to your feet, one hand entangled with yours, the other supporting the small of your back to keep you balanced. You have to shut your eyes against the vertigo that thunders in your head.

“Don’t die,” he continues. “Paris ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, hein? No reason to go dere.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” you grit out. You think you might throw up. Or pass out. Your free hand grips onto the lapel of Gambit’s coat hard enough for your fingers to grow stiff. His hand on your back is a solid, anchoring weight. It supports you more than you would like. Relying on him could be a dangerous game.

Still, your power is a raw, aching nerve burning through your veins. You couldn’t switch without tearing yourself apart, not as exhausted as you are. Considering that this Gambit hasn’t driven a knife into your back, either literal or figurative, it’s easier not to resist when he makes a soft hum and sweeps you into a bridal carry. You keep your eyes closed, and try to ignore the burn at the back of them. A part of you waits for his sound of pain, the impact of bullets thudding into his back. Another part wonders if he will be vaporized from existence by the TVA, just a second before your hands meet.

The third, quieter part of your mind just thinks: Remy.

Gambit, the fourth ace in your suit, doesn’t do any of those things. He adjusts your weight, testing to see if you will squirm out of his grasp, then he begins to walk. He’s strangely quiet. It’s almost a relief in the wake of your draining, familiar conversation. How many times will you have to reintroduce yourself to a Gambit? What could you possibly offer this fate-curious, battle-wary version of the man you love? It’s the sort of question that makes you reconsider your choice to stay.

Stay with a Gambit with ulterior motives, or move on to another life with no guarantee of who will meet you there? Well. When you put it like that, there’s no other option at all.

And, as if he can read your mind, Gambit begins to explain.

[maybefae]

November 2024

Pile 1 - Pile 2 - Pile 3

Remember, this is a general reading and it may not resonate for everyone or completely. Tarot is a tool to help guide but you are responsible for your actions and life, you choose your path.

Tips!

Pile 1

Tarot: The Lovers (King of Swords), King of Cups (Seven of Pentacles and Death), Eight of Cups (Queen of Swords), Judgement (Two of Pentacles and Three of Wands), Five of Pentacles and Two of Wands (bottom of  the deck), The Tower

Oracle: The Fate, The Hound, The Tailor, The Enchanter, The Puppeteer, The Merchant, The Weaver (bottom of the deck)

I wanna preface by saying that I don’t really like covering readings that entail relationships to the general. However, while I was shuffling the cards and getting them ready, I saw The Lovers twice and then it fell on the table. And the messages I’m getting are specific but you can apply these messages outside of romance.

I believe that this month for you will focus heavy on your relationship with someone. And I keep having the word “gaslight” repeated and the oracle cards to denote manipulation being at hand. Deception and Trickery. And my anxiety is high. I keep second guessing myself and how I wanna write these messages which does confirm what I’ve been feeling. If you are in a dangerous situation, please reach out to someone that could help you (and I know that it’s hard and could pose more of a danger in some situations). 

I believe that most of the people here probably keep going back into this relationship because this person probably promises loyalty and that they will be different but it’s a trap. They’re manipulating you and trying to keep you chained up and still wrapped in a red string. They keep offering explanations, apologies… This could be a third party situation. I really don’t like this energy, by the way. This is very hard to channel. 

But I think this is the month where you finally have enough (thank god). I believe you will probably speak your mind and cut it off. But I think you will probably be scared to. I think you’re scared of the unknown, most likely because you’re so used to this cycle. Even if it was a very difficult relationship, you had grown used to the routine of it. You’ll be scared as much as you are curious and hopeful.

Some of you will probably have to pull more weight to get your life back on track, most likely responsibility and money wise, but I believe you will embrace this new solitude. Rediscovering yourself in this transition will be hard but you will look back on it and be grateful that it happened because you will be in a better place. You will get your self-worth back.

I do want to warn that I do feel like you will have to turn this person down a few more times. If you are into witchcraft, I would do some form of cord cutting spell, a protection spell, and/or banishing spell. 

Pile 2

Tarot: The Unknown (Nine of Pentacles, Five of Wands, Ace of Swords), Death (Eight of Wands, Eight of Pentacles), Six of Wands (Page of Wands), Three of Wands (The Vessel, The Cosmic Tree), Five of Wands (bottom of the deck)

I believe that most of the people that have picked this group are probably rebuilding from a recent chaos (it could be all the chaos that had happened to a lot of people this October). But you guys are rebuilding, dusting your pants off, and looking forward to your goals. At the same time, the chaos has left you in a state that you aren’t taking bullshit. You’re cutting it off as soon as someone wants to create more chaos. 

I was also getting distracted a lot when doing this reading. I was pulled into conversation with my sister and I was just veering off and practically distracting myself. I think this month will also have to do with reigning yourself and having to force yourself to do things. I believe it’s most likely out of exhaustion from having to deal with all the chaos and things still wanting to distract you. 

This month will probably have to do with focusing on your own life, resting, and trying to lead yourself in the direction you want/need to go in. It will take more effort than usual. If you have seasonal depression, I believe that definitely plays a part. But you’re embracing the unknown and letting yourself follow your intuition when it comes to directions. Also, I’m being told to tell you that it’s okay to stay in your comfort zone this month, especially if you need to rest. 

Inspiration could come back to you this month and out of the blue! Although this will be more of a slow month for you, you will be thinking of these ideas and planning to work on them. You may also have other people inviting you to work on a project with you or you will be planning on a goal/project with others (I feel it’s more towards the end of the month).

Pile 3

Tarot: The Chariot (King of Cups), Ace of Cups (Six of Wands), Five of Cups (Seven of Wands), The Tower (Knight of Cups), The Empress (bottom of the deck)

Oracle: Other’s Wishes, The Empress, Slept Through the Rumor, The Hierophant, Unseen Eye (bottom of the deck)

I think this pile will feel good about themselves this month and the things happening. This is a pile that is following their heart and doing what they love despite people telling them that they shouldn’t be going after their goals. And this could just be happening in the background without you knowing or you are simply ignoring the comments. It could also be because of the high you are experiencing with working towards your goals. You could be feeling really confident and sure of yourself just by the meer act of what you’re doing because you could be seeing progress in real time. It’s like you assured yourself that you’re goals are tangible by actually taking the steps (no matter how small). 

I believe you are encouraged to continue on this route. There could be a bigger breakthrough towards the end of the month and you could also find that someone else shares a similar goal/interest. This could be a potential project partner or simply a companion that shares a similar goal so you both encourage each other.

There will still be hard work being done but I don’t think it will feel like any work at all because you are enjoying the process. 

Decks Used: The Rider-Waite Tarot Deck, The Citadel: A Fantasy Oracle by Fez Inkwright, Ethereal Visions Illuminated Tarot Deck by Matt Hughes, Ophida Rosa Tarot by Leila and Olive, Maiden Oracle by Leila and Olive

Dividers: @inklore

[sun-snatcher]

( credits to @perryabbott for this phenomenal gifset ! )

1/? | SEAWARDS, TO YOU. ; REPENTANT!AU

summ.  Mairon Sauron repents. The Valar test his resolve. or:  A Seabird meets a Jailbird.  pairing.  (Repentant!Mairon/Sauron) Halbrand / f!reader w.count.  4k a/n.  AU!s1 in which the Valar are the ones who habit Sauron into Halbrand’s body , Númenor timeline is extended ,  Reader has an established Númenórean name , Galadriel’s call-to-arms is Sauron’s temptation , The Valar are just curious which path he’ll take atp

[This looks to be setting up for a series... Feel free to send requests so we can explore this AU together!]

HE BEHOLDS A LIGHT.

And then— and then.

Grief follows.

Great and bitter and relentlessly pitiless. 

It swallows him whole— spirit and body and thought alike— an all-consuming maw of devouring sorrow that he’d been forcefully severed from. All that Melkor— no, Morgoth— had sought to smother and sunder from his very esse, stirring back to life from where it’d first been cast to the black depths, like a scalding brand of hot iron against skin.

An eternal, burning reminder.

RETRIBUTION—

—howls the great Winds. 

It muffles his screams from unseen heights. Pure, unadulterated agony; his heart aflame of every pain he’d ever wrought throughout the age, throughout the centuries—

It takes a moment for him to realise he’s dying.

Enough, comes a soft-rising lament. He despairs. He is not yet forsaken. 

The voice lilts like a mournful dirge, and with it had come a gentle peace, and the torture seemed to cease nigh in an instant. 

Any will despair in the face of Death, booms another. It rumbles across towering pillars and a cavernous hall of light.

He is not as others. A mighty wave crashes on unseen shores. There’s a swelling cascade. He is Mairon, Maiar of Aulë. 

His name lights the world alive. Other voices have come, now. A curious crowd, a divine council.

He seeks repentance---Does he deserve it?---He is dying---Irredeemable!---He has yet to weep a single tear in the name of any that is good---You would grant him a chance to inflict the same corruption?---Cast him away--- Condemn him to the Night!---He is but a servant hand of M—

A fierce billow of wind. Lashing and deafening, enough to sweep the black name into muteness; into nothingness. 

INVOKE NOT THE DARKNESS HERE.

Quickly follows is a crescendo of music, a song of all Age and that carries all note of harmony, so beautifully terrifying it chills him to the bone. Strikes an utter fear in his heart he hadn’t felt since he’d first been tortured by—

“Let him speak,” commands One.

At once, All had fallen into quiet. The tides recede. The earth stills. The stars dim.

And then—

“Peace,” Mairon trembles, bowing low and terrified, guilt-ridden in his and all eyes. “I wish only for peace.”

Halbrand startles awake.

There are tears down his face.

Númenor, he remembers. He’s in the prisons of Númenor.

His senses are devoid of howling winds, of rumbling earth, and of roaring waters. No thundering night sky of stars. No agonising pain.

But then, echoing from behind, a voice resounds— delicate and openly gentle— and for a terrifying moment he thinks he might still be dreaming; that one of the Valar is speaking to him unseen once again, or perhaps the statue of Uinen graced outside his cell has come to life.

“Nightmare?”

A beat. 

“…Memory,” he answers tentatively, from where he’s curled in his cot. He rubs his face awake. “Where is Galadriel?”

“Trying to win over the heart of the Queen, still.”

“Here.” Halbrand hearkens, and can see a figure shift neath the torchlight closer to the wrought bars, kneeling down to offer him a sip from a carafe of wine. 

A bitter memory involuntarily resurfaces in him: A bottle of wine in his hands, red as a blood moon, feeding it to a black-haired elf chained upon a dark and nameless peak, scarred to the brink of death.

A blistering ache crawls down his nape. He grimaces. 

“No than—”

The moonlight gleams. Halbrand seizes. 

It’s… you .

The fair lady; from ereyesterday he’d recalled standing alongside the Captain of the Sea Guard, when he and Galadriel had first been brought before the royal court to face Tar-Míriel, and you looked like a vision of gold and ocean-blue. He had only caught a glimpse of your profile at the time, but here, now—

You’re beautiful , Mairon thinks candidly. The kind that would make men drown themselves at sea. 

“…No thank you,” Halbrand repeats, significantly less bitter than before. He shifts to sit comfortably, and leans his head back against the barred wall as he carefully scrutinises your ensemble under the hanging firelight— the shell-braid hair, the fresh-water pearl jewellery, the deep-teal gown. 

Princess? He reckons. No. You carry yourself light in both presence and step, but not sophisticated in the high and tight way someone of noble status tends to— not quite like Galadriel, even in all her salt-soaked mien. 

Politician, perhaps? Considering the attempt at an olive branch; an out-of-place kindness if you were to compare it to the scorn from the other Númenorean folk.

Nevertheless: “I was told nobody kneels in Númenor.” Then, more scathingly: “You’re not supposed to be here, are you?” 

The rough blatancy would have put anyone off.

But instead, you blink in surprise and laugh. It’s a soft, wind-chime of a sound, quickly ducked down so he could only catch the tail-end of your obscured, dimpled smile.

(He was surprised to find himself thinking he should have sat closer to the light to see it.)

“So says the castaway,” you volley breezily, rising back to your feet with your peace offering.

Halbrand finally stands to height before you move to leave. He’d much rather take the opportunity for a decent conversation at the very least, than stare mindlessly at the dark until something else interesting happens.

He’s tall, you come to realise. Dizzyingly so.

For someone who’d supposedly been adrift for weeks in the ocean, he looks surprisingly as hale as the she-Elf. Strong, even. It shows in the curl of his biceps, in the firm way he’s leaning down onto the bars now, forearms poking out as the sea-green shift in his eyes regard you almost inquisitively. 

If not for the tell-tale signs of a bad sunburn and his salt-licked wounds, you wouldn’t have been able to tell him apart from a local Númenorean sailor.

“To whom or what do I owe the pleasure of a fair maiden’s presence?”

But you aren’t so easily swayed. “Flattery will not get you far, Southlander.”

“So says the one who tried offering me wine,” he shoots, cocking his head to your bottle.

Well — 

Well.

Fine. Maybe you are easily swayed. Blame the quick-wittedness of him and that cheeky, roguish smile cutting across his chapped lips.

“Offered,” you correct, uselessly. He can surely recognise it: your meek attempt to have the last say. “You’ve lost your chance.”

He hums. “Hopefully not the chance for a name, at least?” 

Though it seems he’s lost that too—

A clamour descended from a distance; the jingle of skeleton keys, the sound of approaching footsteps in heavy armour. Change in guard shift, maybe, or it could be Galadriel’s escorted return. Regardless, you’re quick to gather your senses and make headway to the shadows.

“Wait—” Halbrand catches your fingers just as you turn to leave. The touch feels like a kindle; a spark of ember. “What are you called?”

“Tell no guard I was here, and I may just yet be able to tell you another day,” you whisper, before quickly slipping from his grasp.

And then you’re gone. Like sand between his fingers, like a ripple in water—

(Something, however, tinkers to the floor.)

“Who’re you talkin’ to, Southlander?” comes a snap.

(Halbrand stomps a foot on the rolling ring.)

“Myself,” he smiles.

You come the next night after.

Galadriel recognises you. 

“Does your father not caution you to speak with strangers?” she bites, when she watches you poke your hand into her cell. It’s a canteen of water.

A shrug. “If you speak of the Captain, you are mistaken.” Then, almost breezily, as if a tale told by you countlessly: “More he my ward and I his charge, if nothing else. Elendil found me in a tidepool, as an infant.”

Something flashes in Galadriel’s mind. A memory that never dims: Seaside, and a skin of water she’d given to a tidal-haired half-Elf, who had been left estranged with neither friend nor kin. 

She casts her eyes aside. 

“Erulaitalë will begin soon,” you warn. “The guards may likely conveniently forget to bring down your dinner amid the days-long occasion.” (You leave out the obvious: And because you’d socked two of them in the face during your little tirade towards the Queen yesterday.) 

Galadriel begrudgingly relents. 

When you get the canteen back to offer her prison mate, he’s already looming at the bars of his cell. 

“That’s not why you came, though, is it?”

He’s fidgeting with something in his hand. A mixed metal ring— silver and gold— dainty and elegant, crowned with a freshwater pearl in its centre. To someone like him the build is simple. Ordinary. But the startled look in your eyes seems to imply it’s not as meaningless as it appears. 

“You ought to reshape this,” he murmurs, thumbing at the edge as he studies it. Scrutinising, almost, in his mind’s eye— like he couldn’t help a habit of assessing the details and correcting any flaws. “It’s loose.”

You wrinkle your nose. “What would a castaway like you know of craft?” 

His face lights with a soft smile. (Galadriel thinks it might’ve been the most genuine she’d ever seen of him yet.) “Plenty, if you consider I was once a Smith.”

“Captivating,” you dismiss. “Now give it b—” 

You reach out reflexively, but he’s quick to retreat back into the safety of his cell.

“Ah. I believe you owe me your name,” he cocks his head slowly. “Fair lady.”

A huff. It’s almost comical how your shoulders sink in defeat as he continues. “Or perhaps you’d prefer, hm, I don’t know; Seabird —?”

“Eärmaril,” you admit, reluctantly. “Now give it back, lest I cut it apart from your very fingers myself, jailbird .”

There’s a long, tense moment. 

You wonder if he’ll return it to you; if he’ll continue to covet it as a method of leverage, perhaps— but then you watch him slowly make his way to lean on the bars to meet your gaze once more, and to your surprise, gestures for your hand.

You hesitate.

Halbrand patiently waits.

Then, tentatively, you reach out.

Seducer, you want to scoff— 

He carefully flips your hand palm-down, slides the ring gently back in place. 

—But you’re too distracted by the striking feel of him on your fingers. It’s callous, rough, strong. You’re surprised a man of his seemingly boorish nature can handle your hands this delicately at all, much less be this effortlessly charming.

“Sea-crystal,” he dazedly translates your name, once your presence had finally slipped free from the dungeon. “No?”

“A pearl,” Galadriel specifies. “The Heart of the Sea. ”

You’re back, again.

Halbrand is pleasantly surprised, to say the least. He’d half-expected you to stop showing up after the stunt he’d pulled, but there’d also been that gnawing part of him that knew (hoped) you’d return. There’s a stubbornness in you he can recognise from the she-Elf— it must be why the both of you take to each other so easily. 

“It’s no Lembas,” you tell Galadriel, handing her an apple. (Fresh, still. She can smell the dew rolling down its skin.) “But it’s better than what the guards have been offering you, here.”

He knows what you’re doing, if Galadriel’s word is right. You’re trying to turn the tides towards their favour; to, at the very least, get them out of these wretched cells while the kingdom debates their fate. Getting into their good graces, however, and why you’re going the extra mile with feeding them— he’s not quite sure he’s figured that out exactly yet.

“Enlighten me, what do you stand to gain from your act of breaking proverbial way-bread?”

“Halbrand,” Galadriel warns.

“It’s fine. He’s right to be wary,” you say, before turning to him. “Is plain amity not enough of a reason?"

“Not to my esteem. Everyone has wants,” he says. “Besides, looks can oft be deceiving.”

(You can’t discern if that’s a jab or a compliment or something else entirely. Perhaps all at once.) 

“And what is it you think I want, Southlander?”

He leans on the cell, studies you purposefully. “An escape. Off of this island home you’ve grown bored of. That in hopes, if the Queen should let us free, you could set sail along with us,” he says. “I think you long for a grand adventure, outside the shores of Númenor, to seek the finer joys of life beyond your charted waters.”

A stagnant moment passes.

“Hm,” you shrug, sounding unimpressed. “…Of grand adventures and finer things. That shall be my reason, then, if it is enough for you, Halbrand.”

He falters. The name rolling from your tongue sounds like the purl of a steady, clearwater stream. Like he’d been quenched of something he couldn’t quite place; of something he never noticed longed to be slated.

“What about you? What do you want?” you ask, setting the apple in his hands. 

You miss the turn of Galadriel’s head. 

Sauron doesn’t.

Vengeance, his heart cries instinctively, meeting Galadriel’s rallying-like gaze. 

But then Halbrand blinks your way. 

“Peace,” Mairon recites. “I wish only for peace.”

Someone else delivers in your stead, this time.

A cadet, who appears still wet-behind-the-ears; tanned with a mop of tight curls on his head, and holding a dissimilar kindness to your own eyes. He seems less inclined to linger in his visit, nor to entertain any of their questions. 

“Where is Eärmaril?” Halbrand asks, when the cadet clarifies your supposed order to him.

“…She regrets her absence.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he says, and couldn’t bite back the demand of his tone in time.

“Occupied,” states the cadet.

“With?” Galadriel urges.

“Dealings of which are not of your concern.”

He doesn’t know either, they quickly realise, sharing a knowing glance at each other. 

It’s only when five long minutes pass that the cadet concludes the bowl of scallops prepared will go stubbornly untouched out of distrust, and so decides to clear the evidence away, and turn on his heel to leave.

You fail to appear a night after.

And then the next.

Halbrand just stares at Uinen, and worries.

“Awfully hungry, are you?”

With a handful of fruit, you freeze in place. There’s a chill you feel crawling over you, the type you get when you know you’re caught red-handed; the type a child would get at the icy wrath of their father.

He’s not your father, you try to thaw. But it would be impossible to attempt that. So you allow yourself to look at him as Captain of the Sea Guard instead. “…Very much so.”

“We may not be of blood, Eärmaril, but to me you are still my eldest,” he reminds, “I’ve raised you longer than I have Isildur and Eärien.” 

“Only by three years,” you dismiss, leaning back onto the kitchen counter and crossing your arms.

“You’ve been sneaking to the prison.” He doesn’t sound surprised as he puts it out in the open. You wish he would’ve at least sounded as such, even a little bit. 

“The Faithful have believ—"

But having brought up that subject alone seems to effectively tip the scales against your favour. “Stop,” he says, in the authoritative tone he always uses to clinch arguments, “You will cease this madness.”

“Is that what we’re calling kindness, now?”

Elendil pinches the bridge of his nose.

“You are lucky, foolish girl, that I caught on, and not any other of the Guard. Why is it you care so much for these castaways?”

I don’t know would’ve been a terrible answer, but it would’ve been an honest one. That you cannot explain the call or the pull towards them since the day those two had set foot on Númenor—

“The sea put them in your path the same way I was put upon yours. And the sea is always right.” 

“That was different. You were an infant,” he corrects. “With no past to haunt you, and no intentions hidden in your heart. These are strangers.”

“Galadriel is known to Númenor. She was the Scourge of Orcs,” you defend, waving an arm. “And of H— the Southlander, I have seen nothing in him but the utter desire for peace.”

Elendil’s face twists into incredulity. “You can see that, and yet for Valandil you were seemingly blind to how involving him could have risked dismissal from the coming Sea Trials—?”

“Don’t bring him into this.”

“You brought him into this!”

“He offered to help—”

“Because he has a good heart.”

“—because you declined to help in the first place!” you snap, and set the apple down with an irritated thud. “All you had to do was convince Chancellor Pharazon to consi—”

Elendil huffs your name, and it feels the verbal equivalent of him flicking your ear. “Don’t you dare fault any of this on me.”

“I am not,” you assert. “I am merely stating the truth. I can take full responsibility for everything else, but whatever fault you feel inside of yourself is not my doing.”

Your expression sinks. “And what I asked of you was simple. If you cannot do even that, then at the very least: turn your gaze inwards for once, instead of casting it across the waters.”

That seems to have knocked the wind from his sails. 

(Surprisingly, yours too.)

“You know,” he sighs, after the silence stretched for a moment. “You are so much like your mother, sometimes.” 

“She’s—” Not my mother, you defy reflexively. Though that would’ve been unfair. She may not have been your mother, but you will always be her daughter; she had raised and cherished and loved you as her very own nonetheless; had chivvied and taught you the ways of water and the world better than anybody ever could have. “—She’s gone.”

“She lives in you. I can see it. Everyday,” he says. 

But that is all the grief he allows you to see. His hard, insular gaze set back into place, and suddenly you’ve found Elendil of the Sea Guard, again, as he goes to swipe the bag from your hands.

Later— much, much later, in fact— you learn Elendil’s following meeting with the castaways that night goes a little something like this:

A cut-glass voice, and a stomp of his feet. “Ever since you two driftwoods have sailed into my path,” echoes Elendil, “A discourse has been sown between me and my daughter.”

“What damage could we possibly have done,” Galadriel says in an undertone, watching him stride in. “Locked in a cage like beasts since our arrival?”

Halbrand shoots her a chiding look. Let me handle this. “Our… sincerest apologies, Captain. We did not intend as such. Your daughter merely extended us a kindness.”

A snort. It’s Galadriel’s.

“I don’t know what she sees in the both of you.” Elendil sighs, and a deep set frown makes itself known on his weary face. The Captain stops short at the foot of Uinen’s statue. “Perhaps a reflection of herself,” he continues, admiring the stone-carved hair blend into crested waves of the sea. “A key to understanding it.”

There’s a cold, calculative look in his eyes as he turns to face them. It’s nothing like the one you wear— warm, assessing. But there’s a kindness, still, in both of you; where the familial thread connects.

It seems you’ve managed to pluck that chord.

“Erulaitalë is a week-long trip to and fro. With the storms we’ve been having, maybe more. I’ve managed to get the both of you an audience with the Queen before then,” he lays the bag of fruit to their cells. “Tomorrow you will have a chance to plead your case. But whatever is commanded of me, I will obey. So for the sake of my daughter, and for yourselves, I ask you tread lightly .”

The last line is said pointedly at Galadriel. 

“Thank you,” Halbrand says. It’s forced— but genuine.

Galadriel says it too, though the day after; and not to the Queen nor Elendil, but to you, after the audience had gone as well as it could have.

Tar-Míriel now considers them guests of the island while she travels to perform her duties amid Erulaitalë, though they will be surveilled for the time being until her return, and will personally ensure the matter of their fate be seen to by then. 

Throughout the final mandate, however—

Ivory white is a beautiful colour on you, Halbrand concludes, distractedly.

“Glad to see the Captain didn’t lock you up in a tower,” he says after, as the Guards unlock his shackles. “Do you always have a tendency to help strays? To beachcomb for flotsam and jetsam that wash ashore?”

“A thank you would be nice,” you scoff, but without heat. “And yes. Call it a mutual understanding.”

The Guards shuffle off. Halbrand is left in the borders of the court, speaking to you, who’s robed in a dress like a monolith of pure light. Salvation, you look like. And you had been, in a way. He cannot deny that.

But he cannot deny he doesn’t trust any of it either.

(Something about things being too good to be true. He’s learned that lesson before.)

“I still don’t know what you want of me, Eärmaril,” he remarks, and was glad to know the sound of your name finally being uttered by him seems to have an effect on you. “But a part of me gathers that staying in those cells to rot might benefit me more, than to be at risk of being at your disposal outside these stone walls.”

Hurt flashes in your eyes. It’s the first he’d ever seen it. 

As if the thought of having someone in thrall to you was— outlandish. And here, perhaps now Sauron will see the malice cut through your façade. That alas, your true colours and intentions will bleed through, as always, like he’s been expecting and predicting all this while.

But then:

“You must have been hurt so, to be this distrusting, Halbrand.”

He seizes.

Your gaze melts into something sickeningly compassionate. Severe, almost, as Estë’s healing touch in his faded dreams.

Sauron doesn’t know what to make of it.

“You— think me afraid,” he manages, terse enough to be a statement more than a question. (Enough, hopefully, to hide the fact you have, indeed, rattled him.)

“No. I think you don’t know what true kindness looks like, even if it’s being handed to you on a silver platter.”

“I’ve done evil,” he says, slow and careful, and accompanies it with an intimidating step into your space; your orbit.

You don’t waver. 

If anything, you’ve boldly bared your throat as you crane your neck to level his steely gaze. “It is said only the sea can wash away all that is evil. That it can erode all given time. I believe that’s why you were adrift and washed here.”

“A baptism,” he muses, suddenly remembering Ossë, between the battle-drum in his ears. 

“Whatever floats your boat.”

Halbrand scoffs. “You think you know me.”

“I know enough,” you say. “I know I’m the only person in this moment who can give you what you want.”

“You alone cannot give me peace.”

“I cannot,” you agree, before cocking your head to the side. “Though, I can lend you a Smith’s hammer and tongs.”

In spite of himself, and against his better judgement—

Mairon lights up.

Footnotes:

Erulaitalë was a ceremony observed on the summit of Meneltarma, the tallest mountain peak of Númenor, in which praise was given to Eru for his works.

[auspicioustidings]

Firewatch Part 14

Summary: You visit a grave as our story comes to an end.

Words: 1.9k

You wondered if Johnny had snuck into bed with you. He had done it the last time Simon was on watch and it had been admittedly sort of nice waking up bundled in him. He was pretty cute when he was sleepy. 

He hadn't, the warmth was from Dosia which was strange because these days she usually was either outside or cuddled up with Price if Simon wasn't around like the little traitor she was.

This was not Simon's bed.

–

“You've been through quite the ordeal! Can't believe you were in the forest all this time. Surprised you never came across our Firewatch, they live out there. Or they did I suppose.”

“I- sorry, what do you mean?”

“Didn't you ever notice that tower from your old place? It was a watchtower for wildfires, the men who ran it had a cabin out there as well. Shame about what happened.”

“The fire…”

“Ah last I heard between air support and the trucks coming in to help from all over it's looking like they have it contained, but these things tend to burn for days or weeks before we can really relax.”

“What about the men in the forest? What happened to them?”

The sheriff blinked at you.

“How exactly did you survive out there all this time?”

–

It wasn't as bad as it could have been was what people kept saying. The tower was gone, but the fire had never ripped through the town thanks to quick detection and action to contain it. 

In the span of six months you had lost your home to fire twice over. You were living out of the little bed and breakfast while paperwork was sorted. There was a lot of red tape involved in bringing someone back from the dead, although it was curious how much easier it was made by the sheriff having not properly filed the death certificate in the first place. You weren't as officially dead as you should have been. 

Everything would be wrapped up soon and then you didn't really know what you would do. You had money from the Insurance claim on your cottage (that had been a wild series of phone calls to increasingly senior people as you tried to explain that you were the owner who had perished in the fire), but you had no clue what to do with it. 

You knew you had been putting it off, but it was time to go visit the grave. Maybe then you'd figure it out.

–

It wasn't anything fancy, just a rustic headstone set in the ashes. Dosia wasn't super interested, instead going to rub up against your visitor. Wonders never ceased.

“Knew she'd come around eventually.”

“They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Does it?”

You glanced over at Kyle and your heart thumped. The last time you had seen him had been weeks ago when he was disappearing into smoke and embers.

“Yeah, yeah I think it does.”

You both stood and stared at the gravestone, Dosia's ears pricking before she took off towards the treeline. You weren't worried, you were pretty sure you knew who she was in a rush to see. She completely ignored the man walking towards you and Kyle on her way. 

“Ouch.”

“She still hasn't forgiven you for saying I should've got a dog you know.”

“Still think ye should swap her for one.”

“He cried when we thought she didn't make it out.”

“Away and biel yer heid Gaz.”

You had missed them. You had really, truly missed them. It was overwhelming being on your own after always having them around. You were angry a lot at little things like how difficult you found a busy shop now. They had done that to you. It didn't make your stupid feelings any less complicated. It didn't make you feel any less like kissing the new scar on Johnny's arm or the bruises healing on Gaz.

“So you buried your girl in the end huh?”

“A few weeks before the fire. We were planning on bringing you to see it.”

“This close to town? Bit risky no?”

“Aye, reckoned ye were worth the risk.”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself. It was a strange thing looking at your own grave. Why put it here to bring you to see it? To prove that they weren't holding you to some impossible dream girl standard anymore?

“Was supposed to be a birthday present, but we're a bit late now aren't we little bird?”

Price looked tired as he emerged from the treeline. It must have been an awful few weeks for him. There was still the remnants of the fire to be looked after incase it blazed up again. It had taken out the cabin and the tower, nothing left but smouldering wrecks and a nasty looking burn creeping up his neck. All of those drawings in Simon's room gone. You don't know why that was one of the things that made you the saddest.

“Didn't feel much like celebrating anyway” you answered truthfully. 

Your birthday had been 5 days after the fire and you had spent it for the most part staring into the void and napping. You hadn't felt like celebrating your new found freedom at all. 

“We did actually get you something. Still have it, if you'd like.”

You wondered what it was. As far as you knew nothing survived the fire. But they were just things and things didn't seem all that important anymore. Not when Simon finally joined you, a purring Dosia in his arms. He was slow due to a bad left leg it seemed like. 

“OK.”

Simon let Dosia down even though she was very reluctant to go so he could take something from around his neck. He handed you the corded necklace. It had a key on the end.

“Happy birthday sweetheart.”

“What's it for?”

“Havnae given it a name yet, thought we'd leave that for you tae do.”

“It's a 20 minute drive out the other side of town, just on the treeline.”

You stared at them. You knew what they were talking about. There was a crumbling cottage out there, you knew because you had considered buying it when you had first moved here but it was more expensive than the one you had went with and you couldn't afford it. You had completely forgotten it was there.

“Hope you don't mind sweetheart, but we took the liberty of getting the electrical work done.”

“And the roof, sorry luv I know you're a good roofer but my heart cannot take watching you do that again.”

“Tae be fully honest the whole thing is already done. Got a wee bit carried away.”

All those trips into town. The way they'd come back looking tired. They had been building you a home. 

“But… no wait, that's not… you were going to let me go?”

“Couldn't keep you in a cage forever little bird.”

“You'd have gotten arrested!”

“Would we aye? For what?”

“For kidnapping me!”

“Funny thing sweetheart, nobody in town is talking about the fire because they're too busy talking about the miracle girl. Apparently survived months in the forest on her own, told the sheriff she was quite the survivalist.”

“Yeah well! You! I!” you huffed, trying to come up with any reason that you had lied that didn't sound like “I love you”. “It was a cooler story.”

They laughed and it made you smile. You couldn't do it in the end. They were not bad men, you couldn't tell the truth knowing it would see them punished and put away. When you didn't know if they were dead or alive it had brought your feelings a stunning clarity. You had fallen stupidly in love with them. 

“So what's next?”

“Don't know honestly. We're camping out and keeping an eye on things. Once the danger has passed we rebuild” Price said, hand massaging at his shoulder.

“I'm pretty handy with a hammer.”

“Yeah?”

“Suppose I could help out” you offered, fighting to keep the stupid grin off of your face as you held up the key  “after all my cottage is pretty nearby right? And this guy is going to be useless with that leg.”

“Watch it sweetheart, my teeth are still intact.”

–

John liked to joke that you would combust if you didn't have a project. Once the cabin was rebuilt (5 bedrooms, incase they had visitors obviously) you helped where you could with the tower, once that was done you wanted to redo the kitchen in the cottage, after that you talked him into taking in an abandoned dog (honestly very easy what with you and Kyle both giving your best puppy dog eyes). Dosia surprisingly seemed to enjoy the new addition, bullying the german shepherd into doing whatever she wanted. The pair of them mostly came and went as they wanted between the cottage and the cabin, thriving running wild in the forest in between. 

Simon tried to get you into football which you sort of did. You had no interest in the big games, but you'd both go and cheer on the local team when they had home games. Inevitably you both looked a mess having gotten into a bit of a paint fight when you had insisted Simon have a little flag on his cheek. You threatened to de-fang him at least once a week. Both Dosia and Riley were absolutely in love with him which both you and Johnny sulked about. You thought maybe, for Riley at least, that Simon felt safe. His leg never quite healed right so he was more cautious and slow moving now, something you thought she might find comforting. 

When Johnny wasn’t grumbling about the animals wanting nothing to do with him, he was whining at you to not get out of bed. You had never met a lazier creature than John MacTavish on a duvet day, he just wanted to cuddle and watch movies. When he was on a hyper day he wanted to redecorate which almost always ended in a fight because you disagreed on what would look good. Everytime a big video game release rolled around the two of you (and sometimes Gaz depending on the game) would just hole up for a weekend and do nothing but play. Luckily Price indulged you and usually kept you fed and watered. 

Kyle had only been half kidding about making a fire fighter out of you. It started as therapy really, a way to try and control the nightmares. He took the lead in teaching you about all the equipment, letting you observe drills and even buying you custom fitted kit. While you never did want to be near a fire again, you learned to be less scared of the idea, you learned to believe that you would know what to do if anything happened. When you hadn't panicked at a little bin fire in your cottage and instead had just dealt with it, you had showed up at the cabin bursting with excitement to tell them. 

The Firewatch went from 4 to 5. You enjoyed it, the peace and quiet and the stars as you sipped hot chocolate and looked out onto the forest. You didn’t really know what the future held for you, but against all odds you had found a family and you were well and truly happy. And if sometimes you found yourself looking through the binoculars just to check on said family, you figured that was just karma.

[verlaineszz]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ CIAO AMORE!

𓂃 ࣪˖ ༒︎— VAMPIRE! FEM READER X HUMAN! DAZAI OSAMU

𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ — SUMMARY: Night emerged and Dazai Osamu, a known thief who just ran away from patrolmen, was looking for somewhere to hide for a while. It was pouring and he wore a white ruffled poet shirt that showed his neck and collarbones, some black trouser with a golden button that had an intricate embellishments on it, a black coat and some leather black leather shoes. He used his coat as cover from the rain as he ran through the streets to the forest till he outran the patrolmen and stumbled across a cave that lead him into a strange "deserted" manor, where he met his romantic demise.

๋࣭ ⭑♡♱— HORROR + FLUFF + VERY SLIGHT ANGST + SUGGESTIVE + 19TH CENTURY AU + VAMPIRE AU

A/N: Another fic about vamps 4 fun(✦ ‿ ✦)! I hope you guys enjoy this one because in this one, reader is the vampire :D! I also might write a chuuya version where he's the one that is a vampire, and for today i wanna make dazai submissive because normally i always try to write him as near as the real him as possible so i dont mischaracterize him, but I'm gonna give into the 𝖋𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖞...needs that people have and make him abit out of character.

WARNINGS! : BLOOD, DEATH, CURSING, NOT PROOFREAD!

He ran through the street, slipping a few times due to the wet groves and rocks but he manages to always get back up and run. He was Dazai Osamu.. An infamous thief, known for being promiscuous and leading wealthy women on just to steal their wealth (and hearts.)

He breathes heavily as he ran farther and farther, he ran across multiple dimly lit streets and dark alleyways as the rain poured, "STOP! STOP! GRAB HIM!"— the patrolmen yelled as dazai fleds to the forest and running in different directions, he really did not know where he was going.. He ran deeply into the dimly moonlit forest till he lost the patrolmen...he looks from behind and sees that there were no more yells and he takes a deep breath.

His coat was wet and he was abit damp too, due to the times he tripped and landed on the wet floor. He covers his body with his coat as he seeks for shelter, atleast a vacant cave to stay in for the night, he looks around the forest, the trees were tall and it was pouring, he runs farther and he looks around but as he got deeper, fog was appearing, he must be in a high cold place then? He thought.

He stumbles over a few rocks and he lets out small curses and grumbles from the obstacles he faces, he walks farther and sees a cave.. Perfect! He thought, the cave was pretty small but it could fit atleast 2 people and it was small enough that a bear wouldn't be hiding in it, the cave had a cover on the front entrance, it was leafy vines that acted like a curtain. He pushes the vines to the side and enters the cave, it was dark and deep which made a wary feeling creep down his spine. The inside was abnormally long.. But as he walks deeper he sees another curtain of leafy vines that had a small light that showed the silhouette of the exit. He thought about stopping there and just rest up but he had this curious adventurous feeling that made him want to go deeper.

He moves the leafy green vines to the side and goes in, it was foggy and windy but the sky had a luminous hint of red.. It was weird.. The sky was blue but the moon was bigger and it had a red glow. He looks down and sees faint fogs. There on the ground laid down a graveyard with tombs that had no names. This creeped him out so he decided to look more further, near the graveyard was a big manor..it had towers and a big coffin shaped window, the roofs color was black and the building itself was bricked grey with ingrown red flowers and dark green leaves on the walls that looked like it has been here for long periods of time. The exterior of the manor had 2 columns on the entrance that had 2 big lit candles on each, it had a pathway that lead to the round top wood door that had silver embellishments, and the door knob was the shape of a spade, and the door was also oddly big, taller than him.

He looks around to the side and sees a bush maze.. Based on the gothic architecture, he felt like somebody rich must be living here, he needed a place to stay.. Or hide for a while so he knocks at the door— Knock! Knock!.. No response.. He tilts his head to side and tries to knock again, but as he was about to knock, the door opened on its own and his eyes goes wide, "this must be some fancy contraption then?" he thought, leaving a small giggle before going in.

The interior of the manor was lit with candles, the floors were a shade of crimson red and it had intricate gothic patterns, the tall ceiling had silver 3d patterns like spades and more, the patterns that left a gaping space had a color of deep red, and in the middle od it all was a big black chandelier, it was lit with candles and it had little dangling ruby bats as a design. Over all the place was already big and the walls had gothic patterns, decor and candle stands on the walls with already lit candles and European like gothic marbled pillars. There in the middle was a brown staircase that showed a huge portrait in the middle of the staircase, a portrait of a lady, a lady that had an attractive appearance that had his attention.

He sees a clothing rack near the door and he hangs his coat, looking around and walking to find if anybody was home. The candles were lit so he was sure someone was home, "anyone home?.. I uh.. I let myself in if that's okay!" he announces loudly, he looks to the side to see anothed door, and as he walks closer to it, he hears a female voice. "Halt. What are your intentions here? And where did you find my manor." you say in a calm but strangely intimidating tone as you walk down the stairs, wearing a gothic royal style gown with a ruby necklace, he slowly turns his head to you with slightly wide eyes, he stands straight and smile softly, trying to make himself look more friendly since you are a pretty thing, "I'm here to ask of you a favor, and that is if i could stay the night? And i found your manor through a cave in the forest. I just need somewhere to stay for a while since it is raining." he replies back, looking back at you with truthful eyes, he analyzed your face then your body and you looked like absolute royalty. He was pretty sure you were a noble, based on your clothes and the architecture of the manor.

"What is your name?" you ask, your hand on the staircases handrail with your head tilted as a gesture of questioning. "Dazai osamu, m'lady." he replies back while looking straight at you with a soft smile, you noticed that his clothes were damp and the ends of his pants were dripping from the rain water, you walk closer to him and expect him, you were still wary but it's been so long since the last time you've hunted for a meal, you grin and look at him softly, your aura coming off as seductive but mysterious, "Perhaps i may let you stay for a while.. You're hungry, aren't you? Let us have a chat as you dine." you say with a soft grin, he smiles back and you turn to go to the dining room, which is the big round top door to the left. You turn both handles and it opens up to a big long dining table with already cooked food on the table, there were mashed potatos, a turkey, soup and vegetables on the table.. It is cliche but dazai did not care, he was too hungry to think about trusting you.

The dinner room had 3 big chandeliers lining up and a big on the side, you offer him to sit down on one of the chairs that already had a plate, utensils and a napkin. You sit down infront of him and he looks over at the food in awe as you rest your chin on the palm of your hand.

"i must say, your place is beautiful. And the food smells delicious." dazai says politely with a smile, he looked over at your expression then around the dining room, it was incredibly detailed and fancy.. And that meant one thing.. You were loaded, and he know just how to lead you own and eat up your wealth.

"Why, thank you young man." you smile warmly at him, "May i ask.. What the pretty ladys name?" he asks as he puts food on his plate, looking down at the food and looking back at you from time to time. "[Your name].." you grin as you tilt your head, your chin still resting on ur palm. "pretty name.." he says as he takes a bite of mashed potatoes, though he wasn't particularly born from richness, he learned how to please women for their wealth, and he knew what a gentleman he could be, so he remained calm while eating, trying his best not to stuff his face with the delicious food all laid out for him.

"What were you doing in the forest this late at night?" you asked, dazai looked at you and he didn't wanna tell you the truth, that he was a thief, because if he did, he was sure you'd be wary of him. "I was camping and i lost my campsite." he replied calmly, making it more believable. He was a true master at lying, he knew the tactics of a liar and he knew the power of his charm.

"Ah.. I see, you are free to stay in my manor if you please." you reply calmly, your hand leaving your chin and making your hand clasp together, dazai smiles warmly but in him he thought this was an opportunity to steal your richness— "Really? I appreciate your hospitality alot, miss [Your name]."

± ⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻♱ 🦇 ♱༺ஓ˚₊‧±

After dinner, you show him to his room in the 2nd floor and it was a guest room, it had a closet, canopy bed, a nightstand with a vase of thorned roses and a candle, candle holders with lit candles on the fancy gothic patterned wallpaper and a chandelier. It was just as fancy as the whole manor, obviously. He was pretty cold and you noticed his damp clothes once again.

"The lavatory is right down the hall of your room, my dear." you mention, he nods and smiles warmly, "I see, thank you once again." he replies back, feeling a little bit interested in the way you called him, "my dear", it was weird, since he was the one always saying pet names to the people he stole from.

You leave his room and the second you left, he immediately looks around the room, checking if there was anything valuable in there, he checked the closet and the night stand if it had anything valuable in it, but it had Nothing but towels and some pajamas. He looked at the vase and he grins, "this looks quite nice.." he mutters, thinking about stealing it after he steals your wealth.

He takes a bath and looks around the bathroom, the bathroom had diamond black, white and red patterned floors, a silver and gold chandelier, gold candle holders, and overall a gothic vibe. Again, he was quite astonished by the beauty of your manor, it was different from the others. He did quite enjoyed the dark vibes but something about you intruiged him, you were awfully mysterious but welcoming, could you have different intentions? Or were you just being nice? He was questioning as he washes up abit and leaving the lavatory. He walks around the hallway and he sees the paintings you had. All of them looked Renaissance and the frames were so detailed, he wondered what was your hierarchy in royalty and how come he hasn't heard your name before.. But whats weird was the placement of your manor. He wondered why were you so isolated? He needed to know, after all he was a man that was not just hungry for wealth but also knowledge.

Suddenly, he heard a sound of something opening which made him run back to his room and silently closing door, he sighs and sits back on his bed, going to the closet and grabbing one of the towels inside and patting his face and his self dry before getting on the bed, he sighs once again and he stares the canopy bed ceiling, analyzing you and formulating a plan. It was still raining outside and the moon glowed red with fog.

He thought about you more.. Was he abit creeped out by you abit? Yes. Does he find you attractive, indeed he does. He place the back of his hand on his forehead and it felt hot..he has been so busy thinking about a plan that he didn't even notice that he may have fallen sick, he grumbles and he whines abit, "why do i have to get sick at the worse times!?.." he mutters as he gets under the sheets and trying to sleep to ignore it, hoping it would go away.

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻♱ 🦇 ♱༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

The next morning, it wasn't bright. It was just a dim foggy light, it wasn't a warm colored sky but a cold one. He slowly opens his eyes and he feels a hot feeling and a headache, he was sick alright... He sighs and he slowly sits up, he then hears a knock, "come in.." he says groggily. You enter the room holding his coat, it was dry and neatly folded, he looks at you softly, you analyze his state and you walk closer to him. "Morning, my dear. I dried off your coat and came to return it. you say, staring into his eyes with a soft smile, occasionally glancing at his pale bare blood pumping neck and wondering what his blood would taste like.

He stares right back at you, noticing how much you resembled something extraterrestrial.. It was already weird to him how morning did not look morning here, a weak smile formed on his lips and he announces something, "Ah.. Thank you But i think im kinda sick right now to thank you properly, belladonna." he says with a small chuckle and smile as he stares up at your eyes, keeping his eyes off of your collarbones or lips.

You bend down abit so your face is the same level as his, talking in a reassuring tone. "How unfortunate.. I'll get you some spare clothes and a damp towel." he nods and he stares at how the top of your dress was hanging off your chest, seeing more of you collarbones, "ah.. Shit." he thought and immediately looks to the side and ignores it, internally smacking his self after you leave to retrieve the items he needed. After all, you need to prep your meal and season it all the right ways to make it more appetizing.

You walk down the hall and you obtain all the things you needed to take care of him, you think about his appearance and you weren't going to lie but he was quite a handsome young man, a man who wasn't naive but he wasn't easy to manipulate either. You brought the things you needed to him and you give him another set of clothes, a white ruffled silk poet shirt and some high waisted trousers, along a bowl of water and some cloth to use for his forehead.

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻♱ 🦇 ♱༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

He changes into the new clothes and the damp cloth was on his forehead, there you were sitting on the edge of the bed near him he was sitting up abit, leaning onto the headboard.

Your head turned to him as he looks into your pretty face, he stares at you with his hand on his lap..quite interested at how you are taking care of him when hes sick, which felt new to him but in a comforting way, the light outside wasn't bright but not dark either, it was a perfect cold foggy color that he found comfort in, "How are you feeling?" you ask, your hand close to his, "I'm feeling okay, thanks to you of course." he gives a soft but seductive smile with half lidded eyes, the soft dim light from outside reflecting in his brown eyes. "If you need anything, feel free to ask me okay?" you added while pushing his bangs back. a slight reaction came out of him, abit taken back from your action.. "Of course, bella." he replies back with a sly smile before you get up and leave the room.

He looks at the window that showed a soft glow and fog and he thought about you, not quite why he felt different. He hasn't even spent 3 days with you and he already felt drawn towards you, maybe it was how mysterious you were or how a dark vibe you were but you were oddly different. He has met countless other women, different faces, bodies and personalities but something drew him to you, he loves all types of women but there was this one thing about you that stroke him really well, which made him want you more.

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻♱ 🦇♱༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

2 days pass and you took care of him, always giving him nutritious meals and soft touches the somewhat made him flustered.. Which was rare for him since, he has been with other women before, but why do you affect him so much? He thought as he laid down on the bed, looking at the bandages on his arms and hand, it was already nightfall and he needed sleep but he couldn't. He had alot of questions in his mind and one of them was, "why do i feel like im being watched?"

Cold sweat dripped down his back as he tries to erase the feeling, but he sits up and sighs, he wanted to see you once again, it was a weird feeling and he feels like he was lovestrucked.. He decides to sleep it through and just get it over with, he lays down flat and getting under the covers, trying to feel warmth and trying to fall asleep. Eventually he slowly falls asleep.

The next morning, he felt better and he stands up it was already about 11 am since he slept pretty late, he leaves the room and goes down the hall and checking out the paintings and vases, walking down the stairs he meets your big gorgeous portrait in the middle of everything. He stands there in awe, looking how they way you were positioned and how bewitching you were, he smile softly and he touches the frame of the portrait before leaving and exploring around your manor. The gothic architecture and interior truly hit the right spots in his brain, he really did enjoy your aesthetic, thinking about how it reminded him of a vampire. He thinks more about the topic and he notices how he hasn't seen you around the manor yet.. And what a coincidence it was that it was a morning.

He continues looking around and exploring, finding skulls used as vases, a grand piano, a collection of violins and few chess boards. He looks around and sees a dagger on the middle of a coffee table in the library of your manor, as he was about to grab it, you whisper something behind him "hello.."

He jumps up abit and turns to you from behind, "oh.. Good morning bella.." he says with a soft smile, walking closer to you with a sly smile, "What are you doing here?.. Are you feeling any better?" you ask, slowly snaking your hand to his neck to his forehead to check his temperature, "im just exploring your manor.. And I'm feeling well and i don't feel sick at all."

"Wonderful.. Since you're better, would you like to spend time with me? I could really used the company." you bat your eyelashes at him with a soft smile, he looks at you and chuckles, liking your demeanor and nods before you grab his hand and lead him to spend time with you, doing multiple activities to get closer with him.. Because trust needs to be obtained before capturing prey.

Eventually, the relationship between you two got close, but the difference was that the only person that got close was dazai. You just stayed in place, letting him get closer.

You let dazai doll his self up with the prince clothing you had, that he really matched the vibe of one, bit by bit he got more obsessed and inlove like he was a kid in a candy store that couldn't get enough that his teeth were already rotting.

One night.. The two of you were dancing around the ballroom, it had silver chandeliers and black marbled pillars with ruby linings in the cracks and a golden framed mirror on the side. As you and dazai danced, his hand on your waist and yours on his shoulder, it felt like fire to him, getting to hold a pretty little like you on the dance floor made his heart pounce, he twirls you around as you both talk, you smile softly as you both talk about common interest, flashing him your white fangs, which he immediately noticed but did not seem to care from how lost he wad with you.

The movements between you two were elegant and graceful, giving him the freedom to hold you close and burying his face in your neck as violins and an orchestra played on your record player, the music that was fast turned slow slowly, he held your body close against his from behind and he kissed your neck, his hand creeping up from your waist to your chest before the music drops and returns to the usual fast tone and he twirls you around, continuing the waltz that you two both got fond of, the music slowly fades away and he holds you closely, hand in yours and he looks to the side where the mirror was placed, he sees that you had now reflection. His eyes goes wide and looks back at you, "bella? Huh? Why can't i see your pretty face in the mirror?.." he says, tucking your hair behind your ear and caressing your cheek, you chuckle and push back his bangs, moving your hand to his head to his neck but while you caress his neck, dazai felt uneasy in someway, it felt like his neck was bleeding and slit open.. But he looks at the mirror but nothing.. You weren't in the reflection and nothing was dripping dowm his neck.

You get on your tip toes and cup his cheek, pulling him in for a deep kiss, his eyes qent wide before returning the kiss, you bit his lip, making it bleed, you lick his bloody lip and pull away, his cheeks went in a deep shade of red. "Perhaps you're just seeing things osamu.. I bet you're tired from all the waltzing, aren't you? My dear." you smile softly, he looks at you with obsession in his eyes before nodding, "of course mia cara." he replies back submissively before you lead him back up stairs to your room.. At this point, he already completely forgot about stealing your wealth and now he sees you as the only one he wants.

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻♱ 🦇 ♱༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

You led him to your room where you removed your outerskirt, petticoat, corset, shoes, and bloomers, leaving you in a silk thin dress that was above your knees. He followed, removing his coat, shoes, gloves and other accessories, his poet shirt and his high waisted trousers were the only thing left.

He stares at your figure with a neutral but blushing expression that showed obsession, he never really thought he'd be this madly enough with a woman, let alone a woman who he met randomly. He walks closer to you and smiles softly, "Can i hold you? Please?" he asks with pleading eyes, he didn't wanna invade your privacy so he asked for permission. The second you nod, he swoops you up and holds you tightly, burying his face in between your bosom, leaving light kisses as you pat his head, you sit down on the bed as he still holds onto you, eventually on his knees as he hugs you tightly, finding comfort in your presence.

Sometimes, he wondered how your relationship between you and him came to this..

As you pat his head, he looks up at you with glossy eyes and he leaves a kiss on the tip of your nose.

"I'll go to the washroom for a second, okay bella?" he stands up, "i see. You may go." You reply with an eerie smile, as he leaves and closes the door behind him, he walks around and goes through very rooms. Since it was your room, it was in the highest floor, a floor where he has not explored yet. He opens each door quietly, always checking the surrounding area if you were around.. He opens each door across the hall way and he reaches the end of the hallway that had this wooden door that had a design like a card of The ace of spades (also known as the Spadille and Death Card) he opens the door slowly and what revealed within the room made his stomach drop, the room reeked of a scent of rotting meat and something old, the inside of the room revealed coffins and cadavers on the ground, each body was pale, had sunken eyes, cheeks, and it almost looked like it wasn't even a humans body. It looked abnormally skinny and the hair already fell out of the head, leaving leftovers of different hair colored strands.. Brown..black..brunette..

Truly, it left dazai stranded of the scene, the cadavers on the ground were already decomposing and as he looked to the side, there were jars of liquids that had eyeballs that looked like it was staring right at him.

He looks back at the decaying blood drained bodies before silently closing the door and walking back to your room, he needed to talk to you.. Or needed to escape, someway somehow.

You already knew he was gonna find out about the bodies sooner or later, but it was more appealing to see shocking looks on the faces of the men you preyed on.

He starts to silently run across the hall, looking around if you were there but as he ran, he felt arms wrapping around his body. Your arms. He looks down and he turns to you, "ah..belladonna." he says, trying to play it off, you hold his close, he didn't want you to let go but the lingering feeling of death by his door was near. But didn’t he want this? He thought, dying by the hand of a beautiful woman happily?

He wanted to be a use for you, he lets you hug him and he wraps an arm around you, you were quite surprised that he did not resist. A grin crept up your face as you grab his hand, leading him back to your room that had a black, red and white laced canopy bed, a big vanity that was bronze and had a big coffin shaped mirror that had candles.

pearls and rubies were on the open red cushioned jewlery box which was on the side of the vanity. The ceiling had paintings and intricate 3d gothic patterns for texture. Then there was The coffin shaped stained glass window from the back of your room that led to your balcony had the moonlight shining through.

The pale red glow that strangely emitted from the moon shined upon your body, dazais breath caught in his throat after seeing your figure once again. You treated him so nicely and so comforting that he might as well just die happily.

You laid him down the bed and he holds your waist, you smile warmly and kiss his neck, whispering sweet nothings before smirking and sinking your fangs deep into that beautiful vein across his neck, your fangs were deep into his neck that made him let out a soft moan, blood poured on his neck down to his chest, he breathes heavily as you suck his blood dry, he felt comforted by your presence since he has been all alone in his life.. This somehow gave him a melancholic feeling since this was his last moments. his hand was still on your waist, admiring the beauty that was infront of him.

He then started to feel light headed, he turns his head to the side, his eyes met with your vanities mirror, you weren't there in the reflection, it was just him bleeding from his neck down to his chest, he didn't want to die not seeing your face one last time, so he moves back his head to your figure as he leans his head to ur head as you drain his blood.. He had this one shameful feeling inside of him that made him wonder what caused all of this?

Ah.. Maybe perhaps the reason was because the more he stole, would leave him less than anything he have ever stolen. Maybe it was fate that brought him his greatest pleasure and also his greatest death. He kisses your forehead one last time.

"Good night, bella."

A/N: wehehehe i love the ending of this one, sorry for yapping about the surroundings more than the actual fic but thanks for reading! ♡＾▽＾♡ three cheers for sweet revenge for me plssss!!

© All works by @Verlaineszz. Do not copy, redistribute, or repost on other platforms.

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[morbidanthem]

Number Seven; Surprise in a Box - 2,014 Words [Ao3 Link]

Diavolo X Fem!MC

You were rather surprised to see a little sparkly Red Box with an equally stunning Golden Bow just sitting atop your desk in the Student Council room.

It was very small- small enough to fit into the palm of your hand, as you read the card that was attached to the top of it.

‘Open Me when you are alone’

It was written in script, and it looked familiar to you, but you didn't have time to think about it as a cacophony of complaints sounded out behind you.

“Oi! Who do they think they are?! Leaving a gift for MC like that!” Mammon protested loudly.

“Indeed, I wonder if it's a demon who has a death wish of some kind?” Satan had added onto the notion.

“Ahh! MC! I'm so jealous! Open it, I wanna see!” Asmo shouted, excited at the prospect of gossip of whoever was bold enough to do such a thing.

“Makes sense, MC is a beautiful person, and I'm just a gross and weird otaku.” Levi chimed in.

All of this was followed by a grumpy Lucifer, “ You lot! Get back to work! MC, put that away and start sorting out leaflets in the complaints box!”

You laughed at the memory, as you sat on the edge of your bed in your pajamas, hair still a little wet from the shower.

“This handwriting is so familiar…” You pondered, turning the tag around in your hands to try and figure it out.

You decided that enough was enough, and pulled off the top of the box, which had only caused you more confusion.

Inside, placed gently atop a bed of red tissue paper, was a small remote that was no bigger than the palm of your hand.

It almost looked like one of those little remotes that control tower fans.

It had 4 buttons on the top, and 3 buttons on the bottom.

It had nothing else on it.

No indications as to what it was that it may be used for.

“Huh, that's weird.” You said, pressing the first button on the remote.

You weren't surprised to find that nothing had happened.

You pulled the tissue paper in the box aside, thinking you may have missed an important detail, but it was empty beyond the little remote.

You pressed the second button, yet still nothing happened, as you rotated the small device in your hand a few times trying to figure out this little puzzle.

It was only when you pressed the third button on the remote that something happened.

Though, you were pretty sure it was unrelated.

BZZT… BZZT … BZZT …

“Oh? Diavolo?” You spoke, looking down at your D. D. D. to see who it was that was calling.

It was a video chat request.

You quickly looked into your mirror to make sure you looked presentable, running your fingers through your hair while wiping a smudge off of your face.

“Lord Diavolo! Good evening!” You greeted, finally hitting accept on the screen as his handsome face popped up onto the screen.

“Ah, MC! It's always a pleasure to hear your voice, and now, I can also see your face!” He laughed, his golden eyes appearing to glow from the dim light of the phone screen.

“Right? This new feature is wonderful!” You gushed, leaning your phone against a pile of books on your nightstand so you didn't have to hold it the whole time.

“Indeed, the Three-Legged Crow Group has produced yet another wonderful thing!” The young prince gushed, excited that you were enjoying something that was made here in the Devildom.

“Lord Diavolo, if you don't mind me asking, why have you called at such a late hour?” You had asked, watching a look of realization dawn across his face. “Surely there was another reason.” You continued to tease.

“Right, of course!” He said, a blush appearing on his tanned face. “I was actually curious to see if you received my gift?”

“Gift?” You questioned, trying to think if you've received anything from him recently. “I don't think so?”

“No?” He tilted his head to the side, slightly confused. “The red box-”

“Oh!” You shouted, reaching over to grab the small remote. “You mean this?”

“Yes!” He said, a look of relief on his face. “I'm glad you were able to relieve it!”

“To be honest, I wasn't sure if it was meant for me, there were no names in the tag.” You lamented, pressing another button in the remote.

You hear a deep and masculine grunt, as your eyes shoot up to look at Diavolo through the small screen of your D. D. D.

“It was absolutely meant for you, My Dear.” You heard him speak in a hushed tone, his voice dropping a little as you felt your heart skip a beat.

“What's it for?” You asked, subconsciously leaning in closer to your screen.

“Allow me to show you.” he said, tilting his phone down so you could see his erect penus sticking up against the material of his silky red boxers.

You whined quietly, rubbing your legs together the site, biting your lip as you watched it flex and press up against the fabric of his clothing.

“Go ahead, My Dear, press another button.” Diavolo spoke, as the hand that was resting on his thigh twitched in anticipation.

You did as you were told, pressing the first button on the little remote again.

You jolted slightly, as you heard Diavolo release a loud groan, throwing his head back as you saw his dick vibrate just a little.

“Ah? Diavolo, What was that?!” You exclaimed, leaning close to your screen to understand what it was that had happened.

You heard him release a deep, masculine laugh, as he began to tease you by slowly lowering his boxers down.

You felt your body shudder in anticipation, as you watched more and more of the Demon Prince's body becoming exposed to you.

His gorgeously tanned waist seemed to sparkle in the dim light, and you whined as you watched while he lifted his waist up enough to pull his boxer completely down. 

His thick cock, already completely swollen and dripping with pre, springing out so harshly that it slapped up against his very chiseled muscular abs.

“Already like what you see?” He chuckled, lightly stroking himself with his fingertips until your eyes fell upon a ring that was located at the base of his cock.

“It makes me want to be there with you now, to touch and kiss and lick you all over.” You said, your voice a pitch higher due to your excitement.

You could feel your pussy quiver at the sight, beginning to become wet with anticipation, clenching over nothing as it sent dull pleasure that ran throughout your whole body.

“Ah, MC, I crave for your affections as well.” He groaned, clenching his teeth as you noticed his dick twitch at your filthy words.

“I do have to ask, though.” You began, as you began to caress your body slowly underneath your pajamas. “What is that ring on your cock for?”

“For you.” He said simply, watching you slowly lift your shirt up and over your head, your bare chest coming into perfect view for him. “Press and hold the first button, see what happens.”

You did just that, wiggling your hips as you leaned in closer to the phone screen.

Diavolo moaned, throwing his head back as he removed his hand from his dick. You watched in awe, as you held the button down, you saw the little ring at the base begin to buzz quietly. 

It also began slowly moving up and down the shaft of his cock, not too far up enough to touch the leaking head, but just enough of a stroke to cause light pleasure..

You released the button, watching the little ring continue to buzz up until it rested itself up against the base of his dick once more.

“I've been wearing this all day, waiting for you to get curious enough to press the button.” He began to babble, losing himself to you, as he watched you pull your shorts and underwear down enough to stick your hand down there.

“My poor little Demon Prince.” You cooed, stroking your clit as you began to play around with the buttons on the remote.

He groaned, placing his hands on his thighs as he allowed you to do with him as you please.

He loved it when you spoke to him like that, it made him incredibly needy for your praises and affection.

“You were waiting all day for me, hmm? Why didn't my sweet Prince come and see me sooner?” You cooed, speaking in the soft voice you know he liked, keeping your finger pressed on the softest setting on the remote.

“I was- I was busy.” He whined, throwing one of his arms over his face, covering his eyes as he was biting his lower lip while you pressed the second button on the remote.

The ring kicked it up a bit, vibrating harder and moving faster, as you began to move your fingers down to insert one of them into your soping hole.

“Busy? My poor baby boy is always so busy.” You whined, using your finger to touch the spot deep inside of you that made you keen.

“M'sorry! Wan- want to be there… there with you!” He moaned, his legs spreading further apart on his chair.

“You do?” You cooed, inserting a second finger inside of yourself as you ramped up the speed on his ring once more.

“I do! You make me feel so good! Want to be with you, always,” He sighed, as the ring started to move up higher to stroke his angry, red tip.

“Aw, my baby boy loves me so much. I love him too. So, so much.” You spoke, your voice getting smaller as you began to press and stroke onto the soft spot that always made you feel gooey.

“Love! Love you so much!” He shouted, screaming your name as he came, launching spurts of sticky white cum onto his chest.

The way he screamed your name, and watching his hot cum land so carelessly atop his chest, leaving streaks of white sliding down his tits.

You came around your fingers, feeling your walls squeeze around your fingers, as your pussy gushed liquid all down your thighs.

You took your finger off the button, pulling your pants down to rest around your knees, as you felt your cum drip down and land on your bed sheet below you.

“MC.” He spoke softly, trying to get your attention, as you looked up and watched him pull the ring off of his softening cock.

You licked your lips again, hearing a soft and pleasant suction noise, as the ring got caught in his stream of cum that covered his dick.

“Yes, my wonderful and kind, Lord Diavolo?” You spoke, running your finger up your thigh and through your cum as you spoke to him.

“We must do this more often, on the days in which we can't normally be together.” He spoke, a sad tone in his voice. “Those days seem to be growing in number, it seems.”

“Absolutely. I am here for you, just as much as you are here for me.” You spoke with conviction, pulling a rag up from off your floor that you were using to dry your hair earlier.

“I have nothing planned for the day and night of Christmas. I would be honored if you would come to the Castle and have the day with me.” He spoke, returning to his normal pattern of speech.

It was endearing to hear how quickly he recovered, as your legs still felt a little mushy.

“I'd love nothing more.” You smiled, picking up your phone from its spot on the nightstand.

You both bid your goodbyes, as you wiped your legs off and changed into a new pair of shorts and panties.

Big surprises really do seem to come in small packages.

[suckerforcate]

Misjudgement

Pairing: Liandrin Sedai x fem!Reader

Word Count: 4496

Warning: some angst, fighting and blood, death and injuries

Summary: Laindrin and You are on a mission with some sisters and meet white cloaks. Liandrin gets hurt and you go rogue. Why, though? The two of you never seem to get along.

A/n: Request by @midnight-lestrange

Alright, this took me long enough but it's finished at last. Hope you like it!!! Could write a part two if anyone's interested in that. Would love a comment, like or repost!!!

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Walking through the corridor, you didn't really pay attention to your sisters around you or novices that bowed to you. You were tired, and it had been a long day, so you were eager to get to bed. But you should have considered that Liandrin would never let you get away with the events of the day.

You heard footsteps coming towards you and halt in front of you. It was Liandrin, and she had a smug smile on her face. You rolled your eyes, completely aware of what was about to happen.

"I see you're back from the mission, sister. I'm surprised you all came back." Your eyes darted up, and you looked at her surprised. Raising an eyebrow you set to answer.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean, Liandrin." She chuckled and stepped a little closer. The chuckle was bitter, a little arrogant even. "We did our job and gentled the man. Just like we were supposed to."

"You did, after all nearly dying. You underestimated his power and he overwhelmed you. You are too soft with the men." She said, voice icy and head held high, proud. Completely convinced that her way was the only right way.

"I don't share your deep hatred for men, Sister." I calmly responded. "I believe we are mainly there to save them from their own power, it is not their fault they can channel."

"But it's their fault, that they misuse it and besmirch it." She spit the word out, you didn't fully know but were sure she had had bad experiences with men in her life. In a way you couldn't even be mad at her for her attitude.

But it was a fact, the two of you had joined the Red Ajah for utterly different reasons. And hers was much more common with your red sisters. They were filled with hatred towards men and all they wanted was to get rid of them, if they had it their way they'd simply kill them all. You on the other hand had seen a man in your family, someone you loved dearly fall into madness because of the ability to channel. He had distanced himself from everyone, afraid to kill the ones he loved. And you hadn't been able to help. So you had joined the Red Ajah to help men like him. To gentle them before they fell into madness, before it ate them up alive. Though the men weren't always as thankful as you would have liked them to be, you believed in what you did.

"Some men do that, yes. Not all." You stayed calm, you always did. A trait many sisters admired in you, when talking to Liandrin. "Still I don't believe it is right to kill them, as you no doubt would have suggested." You looked at her expectantly. But she simply scoffed and rushed past you. A soft smile formed on your lips as you looked at her over your shoulder and stood in the corridor for a moment. She was a curious woman, hard to read, hard to understand. You chuckled to yourself and set off for your room again.

A good nights sleep would patch you up just fine and tomorrow you would go to the sitter of the red Ajah and report about the mission. So you did just that, but instead of simply reporting back to the sitter, you were sent on a new mission.

"Please, sister. I've just come back yesterday. Sent someone else, I have tasks in the tower." you pleaded, but the red sitter simply shook her head softly. It was infuriating. Not that she sent you, but that she sent Liandrin as well. Everyone knew that the two of you couldn't stay close to each other without fighting.

"You are one of the best Aes Sedai of our Ajah, Sister. We have reports from the East of a group of men, all channelling. It is necessary to sent multiple sisters, multiple powerful sisters." She remained calm, and you saw the reason behind her words. She was right of course.

"I know, and I understand that. But Liandrin? Please!" Your voice took on a pleading tone. This was going to be a disaster. Your sister straightened up and her features lost a little of its patience.

"Enough. You'll both go and that's it. We need you on this mission, both." Her voice left no room for arguments. For her the conversation was over. You raised an eyebrow, curtly nodded and left the room. A few steps down the corridor you leaned against the wall and took a deep breath in. This was going to be an absolute catastrophe.

Your eyes were closed, and you just opened them as footsteps came closer. You looked down the corridor and saw Liandrin proudly walking to the sitters room. You chuckled softly. She looked arrogant, proud because she no doubt knew she was going on a mission. But she looked beautiful. You felt the desire to make her laugh, guessing that just that would probably make the whole tower shine brighter. Make your world a little brighter.

"Something the matter?" She snapped as she noticed your dreamy stare directed onto her. She really had to ruin every nice moment, didn't she? You sighed and pushed yourself off the wall. Liandrin had stopped just in front of the door, just short of entering.

Just two days later you stood in the stables, things packed, horse saddled and all sisters ready. The only one missing was Liandrin. You looked around, at the other two sisters, raising an eyebrow quizzically. They simply shrugged and shook their head.

"Don't be too happy, we're together on this mission." You calmly said and didn't even wait to see her reaction. You could easily predict it. And if you had looked you would have seen that your prediction had been absolutely accurate. She looked surprised, then outraged and huffed, annoyed that you just left. But, for just a tiny moment, there was a slight smile on her lips. Though she wiped that off immediately and opened the door. You were already gone.

Annoyed you tied the reins of your horse to the stable door and stomped out of the wooden shed. It had been agreed that you would meet in the stables at this exact time. Where the hell was she? You made your way through the tower quickly and up to her room. The knock was unusually hard for you and was immediately answered by Liandrin.

She was casually clothed, had her hair in a few braids and looked at you innocently. You felt like you were about to explode.

"Why in the lights name aren't you down with the others?" You hissed, and she smirked slightly before she turned around and walked back into her room. The door standing open, an invitation for you to come in.

"I'm not coming." Her tone was flat, calm and yet you heard a little bit of satisfaction in it. You took a deep breath to calm down and not immediately slap the smirk off of her face.

"What do you mean?" She chuckled and looked back at you. Her arms were crossed, and her face conveyed pure arrogance.

"I'm not coming. I will most certainly not go on this mission with you. You are incompetent and will probably endanger us all." You sighed angrily. Rushing past her, you grabbed her backpack and opened it.

"You will come. Not coming endangers us. You are powerful and we need that. As much as I'd like for you to stay away. So grow up and get over your stupid grudge." You spoke heatedly, while you ran through her room, randomly opening drawers and pulling out clothes that looked practical and useful. Liandrin's eyes were widened and followed you through the room. She was surprised by your boldness. Surprised by your bluntness and honesty.

It would take you some time to get to the men that had been reported on. It was at least a seven days ride, without complications. But there were always complications. Always. Not once in all your time as an Aes Sedai had you just been able to ride somewhere, do your job and go back.

"Here." You said as you pushed the packed backpack into her arms and sharply turned around to go back to the stables. Liandrin looked down at the backpack and back at the spot where you were no longer standing. She rolled her eyes but chuckled softly. Quickly she followed you, luckily another sister had already saddled her horse. You were ready to leave.

Sometimes the complications were minor and sometimes, like today, they were a massive fucking problem. Admittedly you were easy to identify as Aes Sedai. Even if you had taken off your rings. Four women, all clothed in red, obviously wealthy. What else would you be?

In certain situations it's good to be recognised as Aes Sedai immediately. It helped to be respected. It certainly wasn't convenient when multiple white cloaks were crossing your path.

It was no secret that Liandrin and you were by far the most powerful, not just of your group, but of all the Reds. So, instinctively the two of you stepped in front of the other, trying to slightly shield them with your horses. A laugh, cold and piercing, empty of any actually humour rang out between the trees.

"Do you really think you can protect your Sisters?" The voice said with cold amusement. A man stepped out of the group, his eyes made you shiver. With a look of pure hatred towards you. A chain dangled from his belt, you could see at least eight serpent rings, in all colours. Mainly blues, but some yellows, a green and a red one were there as well. Trying to remain calm you shot Liandrin a look, seeing the same kinds of emotions in her eyes. Slight panic, that was slowly turning into massive panic. Though she was much better at hiding it than you. She lifted her chin again, preserving the look of arrogance and confidence. It looked extremely believable.

"Don't make a mistake that might cost you your life." Liandrin spoke, sharp and icy as usual. The white cloaks just seemed to see that as a challenge they were willing to take.

"The two at the front are obviously the strongest, tame them. But keep them alive for now. Kill the others." The white cloak sharply ordered the other men and turned around to go back to his horse. Before you could even move they were between your horses. Your two sisters had lost they're hands before they could start channelling. They're screams shattered your soul, and you acted fast, throwing one of the men against the nearest tree, golden weaves glowing around him. In mere second you were off your horse and slowly approached the man, still floating in the air.

"You bastard." You spit out and pulled the weaves a little tighter around his chest and throat, strangling him. Though you let him abruptly fall to the ground as you heard a scream. A very familiar scream. You shot around, your two sisters were dead on the ground, hands cut off but rings already removed. Frantically your eyes searched through the trees and blood for Liandrin.

A glimpse of honey blonde hair caught your attention. Another scream. You started running towards her and saw her kneeling on the forest ground, clothes dirty and ripped slightly. She had a stab wound just below the rips and a sharp cut on her cheek. In a swift motion you threw the man standing next to her through the forest and heard him hit a tree somewhere. You didn't care, you didn't even look after him. You felt someone kick his knee into your back and your knees gave out, you fell to the ground as well. Your hands were being tied behind your back, and you couldn't even concentrate on the one power enough to use it as you saw the white cloak with the rings on his belt harshly grab Liandrin's face and force her to look at him.

"Try to channel, and I'll cut your hands off." He nearly spit into her face and Liandrin tried to get herself out of his grip. He pulled a dagger out of his belt and held it to her throat, pushing it into the flesh slightly.

"You dirty women, think the power is just for you. You think you're so much better than the rest of us." You just knew Liandrin would say something stupid.

"We are." She pressed out. The man immediately pushed the dagger into her flesh more, drawing a little bit of blood.

"Leave her alone." You shouted, you were aware that it sounded more desperate and panicked than strong and demanding. But you didn't care. The man slowly turned to look at you, his dirty fingers were still on Liandrin's face. You tried to loosen the rope around your hands and channel, but you felt a sudden kick into your stomach that took your breath away for a moment. You could have sworn Liandrin had a hint of panic in her eyes at that.

"Leave her, please." This time it just sounded pathetic. Nothing more. It had no edge, no sharpness or demanding tone. It was strangled and desperate. The man chuckled slightly.

"No, I won't." He said and took one of Liandrin's hands, his dirty fingers caressing her knuckles for a moment. As she wanted to pull her hand away he grabbed her wrist so hard, a whine escaped her. He turned around to one of the other men who had cut of the hands of your other sisters.

You were still breathless and desperate, but you felt anger and immediate panic inside of you. You didn't even have to concentrate on the one power, it was like it just flowed out of you. Like the anger and the panic enabled it and took over control for you. You didn't even take notice of it until the power flowed out of you, lighting up the forest and sending shock waves through the ground. You pull your hands apart and rip the rope that had tied them together. The wrists hurt, like the rope had sharply cut into the flesh. But you don't even feel the pain, you simply pull your hands to the front and concentrate on the men.

"I said, leave her." You pressed out, a little stronger this time. Sharper and icy. A tone of voice you had learned solely from Liandrin. On weak knees you stood up, all the men around you too dumbfounded to act. You stepped between the man and Liandrin and threw the men that were left on their feet through the forest. Almost immediately you felt all the strength leave you, and you collapsed, falling to your knees. Liandrin's touch on your arm was softer than anything you thought she was able to muster.

"We have to leave." She said, her voice weakly in your ear, like it was coming from behind a door about a mile away. Adrenaline was the only thing leading your body right now. Shakily you stood up, and somehow you managed to get onto a horse, sitting in front of Liandrin, her arm wrapped around your middle, the reins in one hand. Suddenly a sharp wind hit your face and the world seemed to rush past you. Like a faint memory in the back of your mind you thought about your two sisters. The ones you were leaving behind. But you weren't strong enough to even say something. It felt like you were riding for hours, though you weren't sure how accurate your sense of time was right now.

At some point Liandrin stopped and let go of you, you weren't as weak anymore. Apart from the weakness of using so much of the power you hadn't really been that hurt. A few scratches and some nasty bruises from the kicks. Nothing more. You heard a sharp intake of breath behind you and slightly turned around.

Liandrin had her hand pressed against her side, the robe she was wearing was soaked in blood, and it seeped through her fingers. She looked unbelievably pale.

"Liandrin." You said shocked and immediately got off of the horse. You helped her off the horses as well and let her down on the ground gently. You took her hand away from the wound and opened her robe to push it to the side, carefully shoving her shirt up to reveal her waist and the wound.

"In light's name." You cursed and tried to concentrate on channelling. You were much stronger than before, but still weak and worn out. It felt like the power wouldn't really form to anything proper, you felt like a novice again. Tears sprung to your eyes.

You shook your hands, like that would help. You felt your chest tighten again, the inevitable feeling of panic rising again. She was bleeding, too much. She would bleed out.

"Shit, fuck." You cursed, voice a little shaky. Your palms were sweaty, and you rubbed them dry on your trousers, shaking them again in a feeble attempt to get them to fucking work. Liandrin looked up at you and seemed...confused?

"It's ok." She said weakly. You shook your head violently, pressing the palm of your hand against your chest, trying to calm your laboured breaths.

"It's not. I can't heal you, I'm too weak." You felt her other hand reach out for your hand and squeeze it. It was a very weak squeeze. Too weak.

"Look at me, and concentrate. You're strong." She whispered. You nearly wanted to chuckle. Was this what it took to get Liandrin Sedai to compliment you?

You took a deep breath in and calmed yourself as much as possible. Your hands were shaky as you lifted them again, letting them hover above her wound. You looked into her eyes and took all the strength left in you together and tried to channel. It felt like you were burning out from the inside but the weaves appeared. You were aware of how dangerous it was, but that didn't matter. Slowly, very slowly, the weaves healed her wound. Your breathing heavily, hand shaking more and more. She gained a little of her natural skin colour back, and the second her wound was closed you broke down. The wound wasn't healed very prettily, there would definitely be a scar. Usually you were much better at this, but she was safe. That was all that mattered.

All you felt were soft fingers pushing your hair out of your face and lifting your head. As you opened your eyes you realised, that your head was resting in Liandrin's lap. Her fingers softly combed through your hair, soothingly, nearly lovingly. A touch you weren't aware Liandrin was capable of.

It felt like an eternity that you both stayed like this, her fingers running through your hair. You weren't sure if you had maybe fallen asleep at some point. But you were definitely a little stronger again when she suddenly spoke.

"You risked your life for me." She said, and it sounded like she was confused. It was just a hint in her voice, put you picked up on it. Apart from the fact that you'd risk your life for all of your sisters, you were slightly surprised that she ever thought you wouldn't.

"You should have gotten out of there and not cared about me. You should have saved your own life." She added, sounding almost angry now. She didn't look at you, looked straight ahead into the forest, and yet her fingers were still in your hair. Slowly you sat up and tilted your head as you looked at Liandrin.

"Of course I risked my life for you. I'd do that for all of our sisters." You said simply. You weren't going to tell her that she was special. She turned her face to look at you. She searched for your eyes, for any sort of lie in them, any sort of deception.

"You hate me." She stated coldly, putting on the arrogant and confident mask again. You immediately let out a weak chuckle.

"I don't hate you." She was confused. That was very apparent now.

"Everyone knows that you hate me. You didn't even want me on this mission." She said and raised an eyebrow, it was like she wanted to challenge you.

"I'm the only one in the whole tower who can actually keep calm when talking to you. If I hated you, I definitely wouldn't keep so calm." You explained carefully and shrugged. You weren't sure if she was ready for the whole conversation, for the blunt and full revelation yet.

"But-..." you cut her off. She looks surprised, not many people dared to do that.

"Think about it, when we interact, who's angry and spits venom? Not me." You couldn't help but smirk slightly. She looked stunned, almost speechless. That was a first, you thought.

"What the hell are you talking about?" And she was back. In full glory, icy and mean. You sighed slightly and looked away for a moment. You thought about what to say, how to make her understand.

"Liandrin, I care for you. And I was scared..." you gulped slightly, feeling your chest tighten at the memory of her, so helpless and endangered, "I was really scared for you." You added a little softer and looked back at her.

"Bullshit." She spit out and jumped to her feet. Taking a few steps away from you, she looked down at you, angry and yet a little scared. You were still a little wobbly on your feet but tried to stand up nonetheless. It took a moment to steady yourself once you were up, but you managed. Carefully you took a step closer to her, but she immediately backed off. You sighed.

"Liandrin, please." You pleaded but she ignored it. "No one cares about me, the whole tower hates me. They fear me." She was vulnerable right now, you knew that. But as usual she hid it with anger. You were lost for what to do. It was clear she didn't believe your words. It was clear she didn't want you to get closer. There wasn't much you could do.

"I don't." You said softly, not moving any closer to not upset her further. "I don't fear you. And I do care about you. I always have." You added carefully, choosing your words cautiously. It's like you could see the gears work in her mind, and as she looked back at you, she looked nothing like the Liandrin you knew from the Tower. She looked nothing like the Liandrin that was always angry, always held her chin up high and strode through the corridors of the Tower as if she was the Amyrlin Seat herself.

She looked like a little kid, who had never been loved, never been cared for. Like a woman that was used to being mistreated and used for someone else's pleasure and will. It broke your heart. Carefully you stepped closer again, and this time she allowed it. She looked so small, so vulnerable. With a few steps you stood right in front of her.

"Lia, I care for you. And you deserve to be cared for." You softly whispered, like it was a secret — no, an oath. An oath to always care for her. To give her the love and care she had never gotten in her life. "You deserve to be loved." You added carefully, hoping she would get the hint. And judging by her reaction, she did. Her eyes widened a bit, and she stared at you completely stunned. If not for the situation, and the obvious pain in her eyes, it would have been adorable. You couldn't help but smile slightly and shrug, as if to underline what you had just said.

"You can't-..." She said, voice just a little thinner than usual, a little shakier.

"Yes, I can." You said simply and carefully reached out for her hand. Her fingers against the palm of your hand, soft and warm, was like a grounding power. It calmed your heart, silenced your self-doubt and anxiety.

"And I do." You whispered, face close to hers, so close that you can nearly feel her shaky breath in your skin. You squeeze her hand slightly.

"You're a pain in the ass most of the time." You say and a ghost of a smirk is on her lips. That alone tells you she feels the same or at least similarly to you. Otherwise, you'd be long dead by now, talking to her like this.

"But I care about you, and you're much more than you show people or even make yourself out to be." You finish and search her eyes with yours, trying to decipher a reaction, her feelings on this. You can't read her, and for a moment you ask yourself why. You can always read her. But then you understand why. Her eyes are glossy, she'd never allow even one tear to fall, you know that. But they're there, and that's honestly enough answer for you.

Boldly you tug a strand of honey hair behind her ear, that had fallen out of her complicated half-updo of braids. You'll never understand how she has the patience to do those every day. Your fingers linger in her sharp jawbone for a moment.

"You're ridiculous." She says, and it lacks an obvious amount of sharpness, though you can hear she tries to muster it. She just fails. You smile gently at that.

"Probably." She looks a bit annoyed by that answer, but can't hide a soft smile of her own. A crack of wood somewhere behind you snaps you out of it. You spin around, ready to fight again even though your legs are still a bit wobbly. It's just your horse, you audibly sigh in relief.

"We have to get back to the Tower. I don't know how far you rode, I was completely out of it. But I imagine the white cloaks are pissed, and they're still far too close." You say diplomatically as you look back at her. In the few moments you turned away she sucked up the tears rimmed in her eyes and patched her mask back together. Though it's a bit more transparent than before. A good sign. She agrees and you both get back on the horse. It's a bit awkward now, close together on the horse. Back to the Tower will surely take two days. Maybe longer. You'll manage, and you're sure once at the Tower she'll try to shut you out. But you can be persuasive if you want and now that you've seen a glimpse of her, you won't back down.

[r0-boat]

Pollen drunk

Congratulations to Beemas winning the poll I know I said I probably wouldn't write anything special but hey, I was feeling extra motivated. Enjoy your extra sweet gift. Full of some humor and all horny!

-That one headcannon where a certain type of pollen makes bees monstrously horny-

Bee!Ingoxreaderxbee!Emmet.

( very brief implied Elesa x reader)

Gn!reader (queenie is a playfull nickname they used for you, but reader goes by they/them and is normally called royal or your highness)

Cw: degrading, some praise Kink, cream pie, dub con, breeding mentioned, name calling, sex pollen.

It was just a normal morning when Emmet received a report from the head of the Drone Scouts about an abnormally large plant. The report peaked Ingo's interest and you were dying to go anywhere that wasn't your work desk,

According to the report the area where the plant was spotted didn't seem dangerous, no enemy hybrids or any Titan bugs. it seemed no harm in bringing you along, it has been a while since Ingo and Emmet had proper alone time with you.

They missed feeling this close to you clinging to them as they beat their wings trying to find the exact location where this plant was said to be.

Emmet let our chuckle when he felt you're hold around him tightening, you're cute frightened noises made his heart skip a beat.

" Don't be scared sweet darling I would never drop you, I'm a verrrrry good flyer"

He reassures letting out a buzz akin to a purr as a nuzzles his nose into your hair.

" Oh it seems we've reached our destination?"

Ingo calls out to his brother, pointing at a large pink flower with droopy petals.

Large was an understatement it easily towered over the tallest trees. Soaking the sun while its pink petals casted on to the three of you as you landed.

Emmet kissed your forehead gently lowering you to the ground.

Feeling the ground once again beneath Your Feet you stretch was the two brothers walk to the massive trunk that is the stalk of the plant.

They inspect the plant their antennae twitching.

" nothing too suspicious... but I do sense a powerful sweet smell coming from somewhere."

Ingo states to his brother.

" You smell it too?"

Emmet closed his eyes before opening them.

" I do... it smells sort of like chocolate or... maybe vanilla, but I do smell something else something more Floral... Roses... Lavander."

"How curious... I deduced it might be coming from the top of the flower. The pollen perhaps?"

Emmet nodded " I agree with you brother"

Ingo and Emmet walked away from the stem looking up at the pedals. As they continue to talk with one another.

You watch from a distance enjoying the fresh air smiling as you enjoy watching your kings do their job.

"Male or female?" Ingo ponders.

Emmet running farther out from under the flower. "ahh... Umm... curious... it produces pollen but it ony has a Florussy."

Ingo hears you bust out laughing as he turns red he immediately shouts scolding at his brother "EMMET!! That is not appropriate language for a royal such as yourself to have!"

Ingo hears you laugh harder as Emmet smirks and points at you " Bullshit! Why can't I use the dirty human slang when our Highness can describe Elesa having a "sweet Bee-ussy""

Your heart sinks immediately, Turning Away not wanting to meet ingo's death gaze. You could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head.

"I will deal with the both of you later..." Ingo growls before sighing, realizing the conversation has been derailed.

"Brother you mentioned that the flower didn't have a Stamen."

" Plant Cock and balls, correct" Emmet says with a straight face. You try to stifle your snort.

Ingo's eyebrows twitch, It's obvious he's just trying to poke his older brother's buttons. but doesn't take the bait. Putting his hands to his mouth as he thinks to himself

" very strange... that means the flower somehow still produces pollen even though it is female"

Immediately Emmet raises his hand pointing up" I advise a closer look!"

"MY THOUGHTS EXACTLY!" Ingo yells a little too loud.

They fold out their wings preparing to lift back off.

You got up from your stump " you're going to the top of the flower now? oh that's so cool! can I come too?"

Ingo shakes his head " apologies your highness this is much too dangerous we wouldn't want you to slip and fall..."

The other king nodding in agreement with his brother before chiming in " Stay on the ground where it's safe honey."

You pout but don't protest walking back over to your stump playing around with the much smaller flowers That Grew around the stump

"next stop The Pistil!" Ingo yells before they take off flying to the top of the flower.

~~

You've been waiting down here for more than 10 minutes, starting to run out of things to do. You keep looking back up at the top of the flower wondering if your kings are okay.

You dug your foot into the dirt trying not to think of the worst things that could have happened to your dear Kings.

You here buzzing snapping you out of your thoughts your heart skipping a beat and happiness seeing your kings again, well only Ingo.

You got up from your stump as he begin to approach you. However you seem to notice something was different about him

A yellow powdery substance seem to cling to his black uniforms.

Ingo's pupils are dilated and his movements seem to sway, as they got closer to you you can see his face was flushed a deep red, as he seemed to be out of breath.

Before you can ask where his brother had gone you felt arms wrap around you.

Emmet!

His breath tickling your neck.

"You smell so goood your Majesty~"

He purrs in your ear guiding you and sending you back down on your stump. " sit down Queenie you seem soooo tired."

"Emme-" you gasp as you felt his lips and tongue against your sensitive ears kissing and nipping at them before going down.

When Ingo finally gets to you he's immediately on his knees. His gloved hands groping your legs as he pulls them apart "haha... I'm so so thirsty, do you have anything sweet for me to drink?" Ingo smiles eyes your thighs and hips licking his lips thoughts of biting into your plush thighs invading his mind.

Your face turns bright red, what has gotten into your kings. The bee hybrid behind you coos his hands now going under your shirt. " Tooo cute!"

Emmet leans in whispering filthy things into your ear "This is why you're my faaaavorite fuck toy~"

You whimper your heart's beating faster his words going straight to your core.

You felt hands touch and feel every curve of your body while your pants get slipped off of you.

" let me taste you~ I'll make you feel so good before I pound you in the ground like cock drunk whore." Ingo growls

You practically moan that his sentence Ingo hardly ever degrades even when he does he always seems to apologize afterward. those words coming out of his mouth like that excited you.

Emmet chuckles at your noises his mouth moving to your neck making sure to give the sensitive skin plenty of attention.

" oh? Dear Brother, can it be... that are beloved Royal is actually just a cum hungry slut?"

Ingo moans pressing his face against your clothed sex inhaling your raw sweet scent of arousal.

" you might be right Emmet. Then we must feed them quickly we don't want our royal fuck pet starving"

You let out a moan grinding against Ingo's hand as he pulls your underwear to the side.

"Oh fuck, Ingo Emmet p-please!"

Emmet hums his thumb rolling over your perk nipples as he continues covering your neck in his marks.

"What is it sweet one?" Ingo asks His hot breath between your legs making you shiver.

"I want both of you."

"Sooo greedy~" Emmet coos before sinking his teeth into your shoulder as Ingo begins pleasuring you with his tongue.

Your legs shake as Ingo devours you his tongue extending with each lick wanting more and more of your taste. He eats you with the vigor, while his brother behind you starts manhandling you squeezing your hips pinching your nipples feeling pressing grabbing anything that interested him. All the while he curves is assault back under your ears Whispering more filthy things into them while he licks and sucks your ear lobes.

You Buck your hips grinding yourself into Ingo's mouth, smothering his face with your core. His sweet honey likes saliva making your sensitive core buzz delightfully enhancing your pleasure.

You smell so sweet drowning him in your scent, you squeeze and twitch in his mouth, on his tongue he knows you're close.

"thats it you're doing so good, Cum for me, fill my mouth."

Ingo demand speeding up his hand hitting your thighs encouraging you to explode on his face.

Which you do you fall over that edge his hand harshly slapping your plush thighs over and over as you fill his mouth with your juices.

" it's feeding time dear~" you hear Emmet say as you're lifted and laid over the stump.

Emmet unbuckles his belt his throbbing cock slapping against your face. His Clawed hands brushing through your hair before grabbing.

" and you'll swallow every last drop of me, right dear?"

You nod opening your mouth before Emmet could ask.

"Oh? So obedient, good pet~ you're so good at this~ you're making me feel so verrry good you're perfect~"

Emmet groans sliding his cock inside of your mouth twitching feeling your tongue rub against his shaft.

Ingo lips pepper your ass with kisses " I can never get enough of you, so stunning, so sweet and good for me... I feel so hot~ I need you!" He presses his clothes bulge against your ass his claws digging into your sides letting out breathless huffs he humps against you. " I don't want to enter you just yet~ wanna t-tease my cock, before I reward myself with your tight warm walls. You're my reward sweet thing~"

Emmet gasps his wings flicking as you try to suck him in deeper.

"Y-you want more? You really- really are cock hungry haha" He starts to move pushing himself deeper your mouth warming his cock.

Ingo finally having enough feeling his boxer soak with precum he finally slides both of them off stroking his hard throbbing cock before pressing it against your entrance.

"i-i can't hold back anymore I need to make sure you're sore tomorrow!"

He feels you with one thrust bucking your body into Emmet. You moan around him it's shaft with makes him buck into your mouth.

"Oh! Honey! So good! y-you're going to make me lose control too!"

When you heard this you immediately start moaning pressing your body up against ingo's cock as you suck harder on Emmet's.

Emmet chokes "Hah! I- I think they want us to lose control"

Ingo snarls his hand smacking your ass " do you want that your highness do you want us to breed you?"

" carve your holes with our cocks?"

Ingo's new dirty talk is really getting to you...

Whatever this yellow pollen stuff from that flower was made your sweet King bees completely different people.

Pneumon in response with made Emmet take his cock out of your throat for a second.

"talk whore"

You cough getting a minute to catch your breath "Please fill me up I want nothing more than to be filled with your cum"

Emmet breath goes heavy immediately filling your mouth back up with his cock.

"F-fuck! Y-you a-are so verrrry cute!" He says grabbing a festival of your hair as he begins thrusting hard into your mouth.

Your eyes roll back as you feel Ingo speed up as well, slamming himself as deep as he could inside of you deep and hard thrusts hitting every spot making your toes curl in your back arch.

Your screams are muffled as you cream on Ingo's cock, your insides clamping down on him milking him for all he's worth.

"O-oh H-highness... you're, too good, gonna to make me-! F-fuck!"

You felt every hot load shoot deep inside of you. "S-so much!" Ingo sobs even after he filled you so full he's still cumming letting out a grown of disappointment when some of his seed spills onto the floor . However Ingo doesn't stop, only slowing down bucking with each pulse of his cock, to instead begin pounding faster riding out his orgasm "S-so good! More! M-mooore!"

Your muffled squeals make Emmet shake, his eyes rolling back as he fills your throat with sticky hot seed, soon overflowing your mouth making you drool White.

Emmet growls in frustration at your wasteful behavior

"T-take it! take it all! You said you were hungry, drink more!"

Your bees begin to get more ravenous with each orgasm they swapped places before taking you on different parts of the ground.

You are surely going to be sore tomorrow or maybe for a whole week.

Distinctly remember Ingo staying true to his words, your nails digging into the dirt while he uses your hole as his fleshlight.

Or Emmet folding your legs in half pounding down into you.

Well... maybe not as distinctly The hours begin to blur as morning turned into dusk when the pollen started to finally wear off.

You were covered in cum and yellow pollen.

The twins laying on the ground away from you exhausted beyond belief.

They concluded that the pollen does not affect humans, but to bee hybrids a powerful aphrodisiac effect that lasts for hours.

You were covered in pollen so they probably had to wash you off in a nearby spring before bringing you back to the hive. No doubt the drones were absolutely worried for their kings and Royal.

Seeing how much their Royal enjoyed their time together with the pollen....

and how affectionate they were when they got home. They will be sending a team to collect and study the pollen for urm... research.

As for the Royal and Emmet...

After a week of the Royals recovery from uuh... B-back pain... Ingo forced them and Emmet to take a weeks worth of Botany class with the head of the agriculture Department.

[808airsoftbros]

Under The Red Hood (S) (BXG) (Natty)

Author: This one is hella long just so you know and I just love Red Hood. Also if you want to check out more of my fics have a look at the Masterlist.

Y/N's POV

People say they know the definition of suffering... But what they don't know is feeling the end of it. I was abandoned by my parents and the one I looked up to as a father figure for that clown to torment and use me as his ragdoll.

I was left rotting in that abandoned wing of Arkham City for a damn year with that bastard. He beat me, stabbed me with a hot iron to mark that I forever belong to him, you name it.

Foolishly, I kept faith that Bruce would someday come to rescue me someday but that day never came.

"Tell me kid what is your name?"

My name is Jason Todd...

"Who do you hate?"

Batman

"Hahaha... Good... You hear that Bats? The kid is not yours anymore!"

"Hey, I never asked... Who is the big bad bats?"

Of course sir... His name is-

*bang*

That was the day Joker put my lights out and I thought finally after all that hell he put me through, it would be all over. But no. There was more.

After my death, the League of Assassins recovered my dead corpse and took me back to their underground lair.

Ra's Al Ghul has always used the so-called reviving gooey shit, the "Lazarus Pit, " which allowed him to live for over a thousand years, but he had a theory...

The Lazarus Pit doesn't just revive or recover an hosts injuries but it also has the power to bring life to the deceased.

However, when I was dropped into the pit, I wasn't myself, I was confused, forgotten who I am, and all I felt was agony. I became a monster.

I killed and destroyed everything that came my way, but eventually, I regained my composure and my memories and came back to a city absent of the so-called hero Batman.

To my surprise, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne were all gone too. Curious to find out what happened to them, I interrogated Gotham's street criminals and did some research on the internet.

Breaking News: Bruce Wayne Confirmed Dead in Fatal Car Accident

Turned out that the others were apparently with him during that accident but I knew better... It wasn't a car accident that killed them. It was something elise.

Luckily, I managed to get some information from Harley who was working at an adult entertainment restaurant and she didn't bother resisting since her beloved Mister Jay is dead too.

"You live under a rock or something? Bats and the whole gang were going all out in Ace Chemicals and Mister Jay as a result blew the whole facility taking not only his life but everyone present in the plant." She explained and I sighed.

"Thanks alot, Harleen," I thanked her and she rolled her eyes.

"Just the hell out. I don't want to see you again," She replied and I chuckled.

"Don't worry, you won't be seeing anytime soon," I assured as I got up from the table and exit the restuarant.

With that clown bastard gone, crime actually plummeted and the GCPD was able to finally handle themselves without Bruce assisting them everynight.

There wasn't much for me to do besides just watch over the city as my new identity the Red Hood. I don't exactly follow Batman's moral code of no killing.

Not every criminal is redeemable like the Joker, so I cannot fight crime without bashing some skulls in.

*bang*

"Where is Black Mask?" I sternly asked as I point the barrel of my gun at his forehead.

"I've got nothing to tell you!" And I bashed his skull using the bottom of the grip making him grunt in pain.

"Last chance," I warned as I pull back the hammer.

"Fine! I'll tell you! He's holding up at his tower east of Gotham! But you won't get to him!" He confessed.

"Thank you," I replied before knocking him out cold.

Calling in the Batmobile to my location, I jumped high in the air and landed in the cockpit, and drove off to Black Mask's tower.

Seeing that Bruce won't be needing his car or any of his assets anytime soon you mind as well put 'em to good use.

With the fast mobility and maneuverability to do sharp turns and drifts I got to the location of Black Mask in no time but I parked it into an dark alleyway to avoid losing the element of surprise.

Grappling onto the rooftop, I activate detective vision on my mask to see the inside of the building to get a recon on the number of goons.

"Great, this is going to be a massive waste of ammunition," I said to myself.

Using the line launcher to infiltrate the building I ride the ropes and broke through the massive glass window and catching Black Mask and his goons off guard.

"W-What the?! Who the hell are you?!" Black Mask asked as he drew out his pistol.

"Your worst nightmare," I answered as I smirked under my mask.

Swiftly drawing out my pistols, I shot the gun off his hand and in just a blink of an eye, neutralize the guards leaving him defenseless.

Grabbing Black Mask by the collar, I held him out of the broken glass window at my mercy and it pleasures me to see the look of fear in his eyes.

"P-Please I-I'll do anything you want! I can give you territory! Drugs! Money! Guns!" He begged.

"How about you go to hell?" I proposed and let go of him to fall to his death making him scream as he quickly descends to the streets.

"Say Hi to Joker for me," I said as I turn around to exit the building as my job here is done.

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

Meanwhile...

???'s POV

Walking down the streets of Gotham City, it was surely more peaceful and quiet ever since the death of the notorious criminal Joker.

But that doesn't mean that all crime and corruption didn't stop lurking and hiding in the shadows.

This city needed a change or otherwise, it needs to be cleansed. There are so many orphaned children helpless in the streets and not even our full efforts is enough to save them.

How cruel humanity can be? Batman is no different... Even though he fights crime every night his ridiculous code doesn't solve the roots of the problem.

I did hear that the caped crusader along with his assistants are now gone after Joker suicide bombed Ace Chemicals. Good riddance to that evil doer.

However, just as I was sitting on the bench on the lookout for any orphaned child I heard a scream coming from above the building and soon after a man plummets on the streets to his death.

Everyone was shocked and screamed in horror as they were confused as to what was going on. Looking up I see a shattered window and what seemed to be a silhouette of a hooded figure.

Unfortunately, I was only able to get a glimpse of the figure until he disappeared into the building.

With police and EMS arriving at the scene, I decided to vacate the area for the night as I was unsuccessful to find any orphan children for the clan.

Utilizing my super speed abilities, I got back to my clan's hideout, I unlocked the door using my key and walked inside the house.

"Welcome home, Sister Ahnatchaya Suputhipong~!" Mother Kwon Eunbi greeted as she gently hugged me and I return the hug.

"Thank you, Mother Eunbi but just call me Natty. I've told you that how many times already?" I jokingly replied and she giggled.

"It's still a courtesy to greet you by full surname, sister," Eunbi-Unnie said and I nodded.

"From what I can see, you were not successful to bring a child," She mentioned.

"That may be true but I did see something of interest," I replied and she raised an eyebrow.

"Is that so?" She asked.

"Yes, mother," I simply answered.

"In that case, please do tell me every detail," She insisted as she guides me into the living room.

Recalling and explaining my encounter with this strange hooded figure and the falling-dead criminal Black Mask, she was intrigued by my encounter and wanted me to tell me more.

"Do you perhaps know what he exactly looked like?" She asked and I shook my head.

"I'm afraid no, he was too high up so I couldn't get a good look. All I could make out was that he was wearing a black and red leather jacket." I answered.

"Oh, that gives me an idea of who this mystery vigilante could be... There had been rumors going around in the criminal underworld that there is an anti-hero who calls himself the Red Hood." Julie-Unnie explained.

"Anti-hero? What's the difference between him and Batman?" Hanuel asked.

"Well, Red Hood actually kills criminals if he sees it necessary while Batman's righteous code forbids it," Julie-Unnie answered and she nodded.

"He could be a huge help for us, IF he agrees to that," Belle pointed out.

"In that case, we shall recruit Red Hood into our cause, but Natty seeing that you saw him first, you may claim him as his wife," Mother Eunbi settled and we all agreed.

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

Y/N's POV

Heading into the Batcave, I parked the Batmobile on the platform, seeing the cave once again brings back memories of when I used to fight crime alongside Bruce and Dick.

Those were more simple times, until I was kidnapped by the Joker and tormented to death. Now, it's all lonesome with just myself and the bats lurking around the cave.

All the artifacts, souvenirs, and trophies were all still here like the giant robotic dinosaur that the museum owner gave to Bruce as a thank you present, the giant penny from battling two-face aka Harvey Dent, and the big ass clown card.

There was still some work to do in the Batcave and make some adjustments to the gadgets to my liking and come up with new tech.

*alarm*

"Who the hell could that be?" I wondered as I went to the bat computer to check the surveillance cameras.

Looking at the footage coming outside Wayne Manor, I see a woman in a black coat with pale milky skin, with black high heels, and what I could tell she was concealing two katanas.

Suddenly, she busts the front doors open and walked around the manor like she owns the damn place.

Deciding to confront the uninvited guest, I went to the elevator and ascend to the study room and quickly made my way into the ball room where the intruder is located.

Getting visual of the woman, I draw out my gun and fired a warning shot.

"Who are you? And what are you doing in Wayne Manor?" I sternly asked.

"Are you what they call Red Hood?" She asked and I raised an eyebrow.

"Are you fucking stupid? I asked you a question! Now answer it!" I angrily replied and she sighed.

"Now that is not how you greet your future wife~," She mentioned as she takes off her coat and sunglasses revealing her thicc figure.

"What's the matter~? Do you like my body that much~?" She teased and I shook my head.

"I have no time for games lady! Get the fuck out of my house!" I barked and her eyes turned a crimson red.

"Oh will be fucking soon, darling~. But first, will you cooperate?" She asked and I fired another warning shot.

"I guess not," She replied before drawing out her katanas.

Leaping in the air she dives toward me but I blocked it using the fins of my gauntlet. Attempting to shoot one of her kneecaps I missed as she misdirected the barrel of my pistol.

Giving me a turning kick in the stomach I stumbled back and in response I threw shurikens but she avoided them by leaning back.

"Silver ninja shurikens? Did you perhaps knew I was a Vampire?" She curiously asked.

"I'm always prepared for anything but I have a question..." I paused and she gave me a smuggly smile.

"I'm all ears," She replied.

"Do you bleed?"

Loading in hollow point incendiary silver 50 AE into my pistol, just one of these is enough te kill a Vampire and meet an unpleasant death.

Preparing a shock blast from my gauntlet, the Vampire charges toward me and once she was close enough I let her have it.

Taking this as my chance with her senses blinded I fired a shot and landed a direct hit on her knee causing her to scream in pain as she feels the burning sensation in her body.

"Hurts doesn't it? Just one bullet should've killed you already but you seem to be more persistent," I said before chuckling.

"Alright, darling, I didn't want to do this but it seems that I'll have to force you to submit to me," She angrily said and I smirked.

"I'd love to see you try, sweetheart," I replied.

Drawing out my combat knife which is also made of silver, I used my close combat knowledge against her whilst using my gun.

Indeed she's a tough cookie but I've faced tough opponents before and not once have I lost.

But she was starting to get more quicker and aggressive with her swings and even cut parts of my jacket. Which is hella expensive btw.

"Someone trained you well," She complimented.

"I can say the same for you," I replied.

Throughout our duel, I could catch a glimpse of her massive tits and ass. Clearly she takes care of her body and outshines any woman I've met in my life.

Starting to lose stamina and energy to fight while she was still energetic and vigilant. I knew I wasn't win this one so I have to come up with a plan.

"Just give up baby, there is no point in fighting," She insisted.

"I'm just getting started," I replied as I threw a smoke bomb.

"I can still see you," She mentioned as she casually walked through the smoke.

Attempting to grapple onto the gargoyle statue at the wall, she snatches the hook and crushes it with her bare hands. She's fucking strong that's for sure.

"Running out of tricks?" She asked.

Throwing a wave of shurikens she catches one by hand and deflects the others with her katana.

"You know you can't hit me," She mentioned.

"Who said I was?" I asked and the shuriken in her hand began to beep loudly and exploded.

However, she survived that and gave me a front kick in the stomach launching me into the wall. How much firepower can a Vampire take?!

I'm out of those special vampire hunting bullets leaving only my silver knife but that was knocked out of my hand and she soon pinned me to the floor.

"Looks like I've got you~," She said as she smirked.

"So what are you going to do? Kill me? Suck me dry of my blood?" I sarcastically asked and she shook her head.

"Oh no, darling, we don't feed anymore... We are not just Vampires anymore. We are Demi-Gods." She answered and I scoffed.

"Now, it's time to teach you who you belong to now," She whispered into my ear.

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

Start of Smut

Y/N's POV

The Vampire who apparently is now my wife drags upstairs to the masters bedroom and pins me on the bed.

"Now let us see who you really are," She said as she grabs a hold of my mask and takes it off revealing my face.

"Wow, such a handsome face you were hiding~," She complimented as she examines my cheeks.

"Jason Todd, what's your name?" I curiously asked.

"Oh, how rude of me! My name is Sister Ahnatchaya Suputhipong but you'll refer to me as jagi, darling, or babe. Understand?" She instructed and I nodded.

"I want an answer, baby~," She whispered into my ear sending chills down my spine.

"Y-Yes mommy," I nervously replied and she giggled.

Locking lips with each other, she easily outclassed me as she was more experience in this while I've never kissed a girl in my life meaning she just stole my first kiss and soon my virginity.

Strangely, I put my hands around her hips as she goes under my shirt and I take my hands off her to take off my jacket and shirt revealing my chest.

"God, you're so sexy, I can't hardly believe this is all mine now~," She admires as she traces each line.

"Why don't you stop talking and let's get to it," I suggested and she smirked.

"I like how the way you think~," She replied.

Taking off her tight dress, revealing that she wasn't wearing any bra or panties and showed off her huge mounds and clean shaven pussy which instantly made my cock hard.

"Enjoying the view~? Good, because I'm going to make sure your balls are drained tonight~," She seductively said and I gulped.

Not wasting any time, she pulls down my pants along with my underwear and was surprised to see my ten-inch dick. Comparing my size to her head. It was a sight to see a beauty right by my cock.

"Uhhhhh~," I moaned.

Taking my length into her mouth, the tightness and the feeling of her tongue as she bobs up and down. I'd be lying if I said I haven't fell in love with this lusty Vampire.

What made it more exciting is that she kept eye contact with me the whole time she was blowing me and she switches position with her pussy on my face which is dripping wet and I can smell the aroma of candy.

Without hesitation I devour her pussy making her moan as she works on my cock tasting her was so addicting and we kept going until we came into each other's mouths.

"You taste amazing, baby~," She said after swallowing my load.

"I can say the same, it's so sweet that I just want more," I replied and she smiled.

Getting into position she sits on my dick before slowly inserting it in taking away my virginity and slowly begins riding me and it was fucking tight down there.

"Oh my God, you're so fucking huge baby, no man has ever stretched me out like this~!" She screamed as she increased her pace.

"Your fucking tight as hell!" I replied as I grabbed onto her hips to match her rhythm increasing the ecstasy.

After riding my dick for a bit, she decided to switch positions to missionary style.

"Now darling I want you to fuck my brains out! No more holding back!" She demanded and I felt like a beast inside of me has awaken.

"Fine, you want me to fuck you so hard until you can't walk! You got it!" I replied and she bit her lip.

Not giving her any time to get settled into the position I rammed her in and out as rough and fast as I possibly can making her scream out of pleasure.

Thankfully this room is soundproof and the manor is on an isolated island so nobody will be able to hear me fuck my slutty Vampire wife.

"Baby I'm so close~!" She warned.

"So am I!" I replied.

"Then let's cum together!" She said and we did just that.

"Hehe~. You still got more in there don't you~?" She asked and I viciously nodded.

Agreeing to go for another round, we switch position into doggy style and I rail her until she was screaming on top of her lungs.

"Keep going baby~!" She encouraged as I hit her G-spot.

Feeling the beast wanting more and more of her gorgeous pussy, I increased the pace and groped her ass whilst giving a few spankings increasing the pleasure.

"I want you to fuck me until I'm pregnant baby~!" She demanded.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll make sure that you'll get pregnant!" I assured.

Feeling the tightness of her pussy and fucking such a beautiful Vampire really takes my mind off my problems and traumas that I've been through in the past.

Maybe it was destiny that lead her into my home, guess I could use the company and she has an amazing body.

"I'm going to cum!" I warned.

"Good! I'm close too!" She replied.

In no time, I cum deep into her womb and we screamed one last time as I came inside of her and I felt my dick was in the shower.

"No I want you to keep it inside of me," She insisted as I was about pull it out.

Cuddling with each other on the bed despite it being all messy and wet from her juices, I was too tired and exhausted to care as long as I was in her arms.

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Natty's POV

It's been three days since I officially claimed Jason Todd aka Red Hood as my husband and partner in crimefighting. I still crave more of him but I have to let him rest.

Eventually he started opening up to me about his past life when he was the second Robin to Batman but was left to be tormented by the clown and how he was revived by the Lazarus Pit.

To this day, he still has Lazarus visions and behaves erratically at some nights but I can handle it with no issues whatsoever and he told me that he was grateful to have a loving wife like myself.

As for my clan, they continue to patrol the city for any abandoned children to take in while we clean up the streets for them.

Based on observation his abilities were growing faster, before he could take only ten men at a time but now he can take on about fifthy criminals at once.

With Jason being forged into my heart and soul, our relationship is eternal as I've granted him the gift of immortality.

"I love you my dear Jason~,"

[dawnofh]

How could we ever just be friends?

König x male reader

“C’mon Big guy, don’t keep me waiting!!” You yelled at the tall Austrian man who couldn’t peal his eyes away from the fireworks that adorned the sky. His pupils practically looked dilated as he stared in awe. You admired him for a bit, smiling as he could barely look away, every colour and pattern enticing him more to stay and not break eye contact.

“Ich komme…I mean!! I’m coming.” He ran up to you so fast you felt as if he might just tackle you into the snow, which he has done of several occasions. The tall Austrian towered over you, bouncing on his heels like a child, he was excited for you to spend time with him in his hometown. You were overjoyed to just be in his presence. The blue irises in his eyes melt every time you were around him, it was something you could easily lose yourself in. What a magnificent sight. But you were blind to this obvious hints, as was he to yours.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?” You didn’t break eye contact, his gaze enticing like the fireworks so you stared back at him with the same admiration. He crouched down a bit to your height to stare deeper into your eyes, you couldn’t help the feeling of immense feelings overshadow you. The feeling to just reach out, lunge your arms around his neck and kiss him through the balaclava version of his mask which you quite frankly were fond of.

“König—“

“Scheiße, you’re turning red, are you running a fever?” He put his gloved hands on your face, expecting to feel your temperament through them. This not only amused but flustered you, you let out an airy laugh, the coldness causing a mist as you did so. “What are you laughing at we need to get you to-“

You cut him off by pulling him lower to your height, cupping his face with your gloved hands, “Big guy. You really are something, you know that?”

“Th..Thank you?” König said with confusion, studying your face for signs of sickness, “Y/N..? Do you want to sit down?” He leaned more closer as the fondness in your eyes went over his head.

“How can someone such as yourself be so slow on the uptake.” You let go of him, walking away towards a small little antic shop. He followed behind, “What does that mean?” He opened the door for you, the jingle of the bell giving him a mini jumpscare. You glanced up at him as you walked inside, the warmth welcoming you in, “Nothing. Don’t wrap your head around it for too long.”

“You know English isn’t my first language..” He complained, closing the door behind you and looking around. The store was completely fragile, glancing at the items made him tense up, he even had to duck to just get inside. “You’ve got to be kidding me...” He mumbled in German. You knew what you were doing by bringing him into here.

“Hey König, come see this~” You said teasingly as you gestured to the ceramic bowls. He practically tiptoed and sucked his breath in to avoid touching anything, it was like bringing an elephant into a room made of glass. Or that’s how he felt.

“Looks. Great. Wow.” He said stiffly to which you moved deeper into the store. König just stood there, afraid to move an inch, his eyes widened however when he stared directly at a cat on the shelf. Then those eyes softened the same way it does when he looks at you.

While the tall guy was distracted you browsed around, grabbing the item you came here for. “That’ll be 20 euros.” The shop clerk said in German as she smiled at you while you handed her the money, “What a precious gift young man, who’s the lucky lady getting this?” Somehow with your limited German you could put the sentence together and understand.

You could only chuckle before gesturing to the dangerous mountain of a man who was petting a cat. “He’s the lucky lady~” You said in English.

She could only stare, frightened that he might squish her cat to death just by petting it. “Well.. you know what they say about Austrians..” She began to speak back in English to you.

“No? What do they say?” You leaned in, curious.

“That it’s all in the eyes.”

“Come again?”

“What’s the first thing you noticed when you saw that man other than his height.” She continued, you let out a gasp of realisation, “It’s all in the eyes, Sonny.”

“Oh my god, you’re right. Thank you, Lady.” You grabbed your item, pocketing it.

“Hey wait-“

“Keep the change.” You said to her before grabbing König by his arm and dragging him away, he said goodbye to the shop clerk in his native tongue and to the cat while you pulled him out the store, he instinctively ducked and when you two were finally out you let him go to stare.

“What’s up?” He asked confused by the sudden change of behaviour but kinda used to it by now. “I should be asking you that.” You practically stormed into town square, leaving König to run after you rather confused. “Y/N?! Did I do something—“

“Are you trying to seduce me.” You made direct eye contact, he genuinely couldn’t tell what emotions you were showing, a problem he found out when you two first met. The Austrian soldier looked up at the fireworks for a second, collecting himself before grabbing your chin with his index finger and thumb. His eyes were now half lidded as they sent chills down your spine.

“Would you like me to seduce you?”

You simply stared back dumbfounded, lost for words. Utterly flabbergasted. You tried to register those words in your head again, not believing König out of all people said that to you. You always saw him as doormat from the first time you joined the military. You were so used of being top of everything, in control, making people lose their words, choke on their breath and catch them by surprise. How the turntables.

“You..I…uhm…” Your words weren’t wording. König got the biggest kick by doing this and you had no idea how someone like him was able to gain the upper hand against you. As if he could read your mind, he let go putting a hand on your shoulder, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to do that~” You knew by the tone of his voice he wasn’t genuine so your eyes hardened, resorting to glare to try mask a side you didn’t know existed.

König leaned down to your height and you froze up yet again, he knew very well what he was doing as he lowered himself towards your ear, “Lass uns nach Hause gehen.” He glanced at you before walking towards a bus stop.

You took out the music box from your pocket that you bought him, wanting to just throw it at his head for no reason whatsoever other than the fact he made you fall deeper. You wanted to mask yourself again, this time with hatred. You hated how König was breaking through and causing cracks in your facade, hated how he nearly saw right through you.

“C’mon Little guy, don’t keep me waiting.” You heard him say.

You felt your eye twitch before turning to him slowly, those half lidded eyes staring into your soul. You could smell the smirk across his face now. The fireworks continued as they were in the background, you could see the colours reflect off of König. He was still a magnificent sight.

“How could we ever just be friends….” You whispered inaudibly, pocketing the gift and following close behind him. König slowed down so he was next to you, unsurprisingly making a move by putting his arm over your shoulder.

“Guess you’re a bit slow on the uptake too.”

Credit to: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMFnmrXhE/

[c0rvidbones]

Fem!Durge Paladin x Gale

When the Durge finds out what she once was, and an Oath that was unintentionally broken.

My Durge, Daekrana (Or Dana to those she cares for) did not handle the news of who she once was well. Not hours before, her Oath to the Raven Queen had been broken, and she was already unwell.

Contains: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, allusion/reference to animal death

Be gentle I have never posted anything on here for this before <3

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Dana felt sick to her stomach when her eyes fell over the letter she found. It was her own handwriting. And what it said was truly horrifying. Gale, Karlach, and Astarion kept a loose watch as she poked through the littered texts of the desk, but it was Gale who saw his lover's hands trembling. Moreso than they already had been when she had been overtaken by the Urge earlier and broke her oath. That gutted feeling already had her a bit compromised, but otherwise unharmed - Dana had said she would fix it that evening as there were far more important matters to deal with.

Gale leans slightly to peek over Dana's head - it isn't hard, his paladin is awfully short for an elf - but she crumpled the letter and shoved it in her bag before he could see Anything other than the hue of the ink. Red like blood. He was curious, but Dana's now Severe expression and more-pallid-than-usual complexion told him not to pry yet.

She would turn and motion for the others, the scale of her armour making sufficient noise for them to hear and turn to see the sign. They follow, and onward they proceeded through the colony. Dana stayed silent the entire fight, her expression hard, cold, a thick wall of defensive mask thrown up to shield herself from this mental strain.

Defeating Ketheric and then the avatar of Myrkul was quick work for her and Karlach, both dealing significantly heavy damage with their respective weapons and combined strengths of Rages and Smites.

It was immediately after the battle and evacuation with Aylin to the main halls of Moonrise that the elf would toss her hammer aside in an unusual outburst of emotion, quickly walking away from her party and Outside of the halls, her hands coming up and pulling her braids and ponytail out in an anxious Fit. She stayed within the light of the moonlanterns, but just barely. Just at the edges. She stared off into the shadow-cursed lands, her hair let down for the first time in a long time, her eyes glazed with a mix of tormented agonies and dejected acceptance. She drops into a crouch, her feet staying firmly planted but hugging her knees to her chest, her forehead pressed to her forearms.

She could Feel Gale standing nearby. He didn't pry, didn't speak. He instead knelt beside his lover and slid an arm around her, cautious in the event she shied away but warmed when he felt her shoulder lightly lean into him.

No tears fell, but she was grateful for the company. He didn't quite know what was going on, but he would be here all the same. He does know when to be quiet, contrary to popular belief, and he stays with her as she mentally processed whatever she was thinking of.

It had been a two-for-one. Hours before she found that letter, she had come across Steelclaw, she had tried to grasp at memories and instead had grasped the feline's head in her hands and... well. She felt sick thinking about it. And little would let her forget the ripping sensation of her oath being broken and the vision of the first Oathbreaker knight. A piece of her still feels missing, and now she can't even find the words to get her oath repaired.

After a few drawn moments, she forcibly takes a deep breath, lightly shrugging Gale's hand from her shoulder and standing, her back turning as she starts putting her hair back up into its ponytail and braids, already walking back into the towers. Gale frowns, a little hurt but willing to look past it for sake of knowing this just isn't what Dana usually acts like. He tails her inside, watching her fetch her hammer and stow it on her back where she always carries it, her expression carefully blank as she listens to Dame Aylin and Isobel's reuniting.

After returning to camp, Dana would approach the black knight that uptook residence not far from Gale's camp, and before the knight could speak, she had gently taken the armoured undead by the wrist - another surprise, as she seemed to loathe touch from anyone other than Gale, with the lone exception being a hug from Karlach when she had finally fixed her engine - and wordlessly lead the knight to the most isolated part of the camp. She was still in sight of everyone, and the knight's posture seemed as formal as ever. Yet nobody could hear the first words she spoke when her lips parted save for the knight himself.

"I will accept the title of oathbreaker. I... deserve. The fall."

The knight paused, aware that she was perhaps making the agreement as a self inflicted punishment, but he would nod and lift a hand, his firelight eyes dimming as he speaks the words to induct her.

Hours later, she still won't speak, even as she sets up her part of Gale's tent, and though her paladin auras are still active... one feels new. Like her allies are stronger when close to her.

She lies beside Gale, not initially seeking contact, but after a few breaths, she hesitantly slips her hand into his. Not mad at him, and trying her hardest to not let her emotions rip her away from him. Gale squeezes her hand, his voice soft and concerned, "Did you want to talk about it?" Dana shook her head, her blue-black eyes closing, her brows knitting. Gale tries a different tactic, "I can wait. But holding on to what troubles you is never healthy. I... just want you to remember I'm here for you, alright?" She nods, and after another moment, turns to her side and pull's Gale's arm around her before draping her arm around his waist, pushing her head into his chest. He kisses her forehead and folds her into his arms without another word, lacing his fingers through her hair. She sinks into a trance quickly, and Gale is quick to follow in sleep.

The next day is a horrible and gutwrenching series of events for Dana - the Emperor, Wyrm's Crossing's state, the poor blacksmith replaced by the changeling woman as well as the dryad, and the Circus of Last Days' whole fiasco. That night she chose to rest alone, and was awoken by her wretched little butler of a beast. She spoke with very few syllables and a bounty of irate glares, yet what broke her in full was the mention of what she was at last. Her eyes were wide with horror, and even after sending the butler away, she couldn't fall back into a rest. Her first reaction was to go to the knight again, this time her voice weak and watery, tears threatening to claim her. "How. How did I become a paladin. When I am this. Have I broken my Oath before? How many times have we met, knight?"

He answered calmly. "Who you are does not bar you from chosen paths in life. You have broken it before, and resworn it before. We have met plenty of times. It will always be up to you if it is the last."

Shaking her head, her heart splintering, she called off everything for that day to linger in camp, feeling like a ghost. She would find her way to Gale by nightfall, waiting for him to come into his own tent, standing with her slight and trembling frame looking like a mess, her symbol to the Raven Queen clutched desperately in her hands. Gale looked surprised and wary at first, hesitating before closing the tent flap behind himself and casting a security spell. To keep people from hearing Dana and himself, but prepared to break it should she lose control as she had all those nights ago.

Instead, he's greeted with - at last, once again - her voice. Though it's strained and weak, and barely holding back tears. "Gale," She's already shaking like a leaf, and his wariness shifts into genuine alarm. She sounds desperate, on the verge of a dangerous despair that she can't escape without help. He's in front of her in a heartbeat, his arms slipping around her waist, and hers slide under his to cling to him. Her strength feels returned at least, though it's so unnerving to see the usually calm and level headed paladin shattering like she has been. Gut-wrenching sobs escape her small frame as she presses her face into his chest, and he slowly sinks into a kneeling position with her in his arms, keeping her close

Even as she weeps, her words are a jumbled, mottled mess that Gale can blessedly understand. "Gale, I'm a much worse person than I thought I was, how did I ever swear an oath, how did I ever serve the Raven Queen, how did I ever end up with kind people on all sides while I'm a revolting monster?" He soothed a hand up and down her back, his voice gentle and as reassuring as he can muster.

"Dana, my love, you're not a monst—"

"I AM! GALE —" Her voice is far louder than she intends, pulling herself out of his arms with a reluctant force, her arms wrapping around her as she bows her head. Refusing comfort. Her voice crumbles, "I. I'm — a Bhaalspawn, Gale, and not just any Bhaalspawn, but the one that started the Absolute Cult. If the former was not enough to condemn me, then the latter would. I'm sickened by myself, I - I was horrible. I was a monster — AM, a monster, gods," She groans, burying her face in her hands, pressing the small raven skull to her skin, "I did so many terrible things, why would y—"

She gasps, as if the next touch burned, but Gale had pushed her hands from her face to force her to look him in the eye. Tear-stained cheeks flush as he presses a kiss to her lips to silence her fears and spiralling, and when he breaks it, he presses his forehead to hers with a fire in those soft brown eyes of his, her own still wide in shock. "Daekrana. You are a vastly different person from who you were then. You have fought and resisted every violent thought and impulse until you thought you were safe. You slipped, and you have mourned your mistake. Admittedly, you being a Bhaalspawn is a surprise, but you can't chase me away that easily. Who you were was a monster, sure, but is that who you are now? The woman who fought the goblins, convinced Khaga she was wrong, saved the myconids, the gnomes, the Harpers, the tieflings?Would you call those the actions of a monster?" His smile is genuine and sweet, her expression glassy with awe and a new wave of tears. She shakes her head just a little, and his smile softens a touch, though no less loving. "You've been terribly strong and brave, my love. I assume this is what was eating you alive for the past few days - please. Allow yourself to be weak with me. I can be strong enough for the both of us, at least for a little while."

A weak bubbled laugh escapes her, as she allows Gale to bring her back into his arms. "Strong in the mental sense. I can still carry you around. You hardly weigh anything to me." The fact she was able to tease him meant she believed it, and he chuckled, though a flush still found his face as she slid close enough to settle in his lap.

"True, though if you didn't wear the world's heaviest armour and carry an oversized hammer everywhere, I could still probably carry you. Your height makes you less cumbersome in my arms than I assumedly am in yours, love." He still sounds fond and sweet, and Dana sinks into him, relieved by his comforting embrace.