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daycourtofficial · 9 days ago

Text

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 14.7k | warnings: depictions of violence, gore, blood, bodily harm

Summary: your relationship with Rhysand had been icy at best, but your attempts to reconcile are quick to be shot down. A rash decision leads you to endangering your life - can Eris find you in time? Can he save your infant son?

Author’s note: happy Gingerfucker Week to all who celebrate!! My first post has to be the most anticipated gingerfucker fic ever - otherwise I’m sure yall would kill me lmao

“Eris, we’ll be fine. Feyre wouldn’t let anything happen to us. But if it would make you feel better, you may winnow us there.”

The babe in your arms slept softly, the smallest crop of red hair peeking out from his swaddled head. Atlas was so tiny, yet had grown so much in his one month of living. The last babe you remember spending prolonged time with was your younger sister, and even though a baby’s basic needs were the same, caring for a wingless babe felt different, almost unnatural.

Being a young female in Illyria meant spending many hours and nights helping the other females with their young. Atlas was likely the first babe without wings you had ever seen. It still surprised you to rub your hand across his empty back or that you didn’t have to stretch his wings multiple times a day.

Only a quick winnow trip separated you from your nephew, leading your impatience to grow with each moment Eris spent rifling through trunks. You were dying to see the toddler, having missed several months of his life due to your brother’s refusal to see you. Things were still rough between the two of you (not from your lack of trying), but they seemed to be improving. It felt right to spend a few days there - to let your family see Atlas, hold him, spend some time with the three of you. It might be foolish, but a tiny babe is enough to have at least some of the pressure off of your mate.

Your words did little to slow him as he flitted about the room, a cloud of anxiety following him as he searched for something you weren’t entirely sure existed. He moved about the room, opening trunks and moving their contents around before closing the lid in a huff. If you weren’t getting annoyed at the delay, you would be amused by his antics.

“Er, if it’ll really make you this upset, I can wait until tomorrow when you’re able to stay with us.” The possibility that Eris was purposely stalling wasn’t lost on you. He was less than thrilled about this visit, however he was unlikely to ever stop his mate from getting what she wanted.

“No, no, you were adamant about arriving tonight so you could see Nesta on her birthday and- aha!”

From one of the seemingly thousands of chests around your room, all full of gifts from every High Lord, advisor, and courtier the two of you had ever come into contact it seemed, Eris procured a tiny yellow blanket, one end of it full of stuffing to give the illusion of the head of a duck. He raised it quite proudly as if it were a trophy, gallivanting over to the two of you as if he were a prized mare.

“What is that?”

“It’s Atlas’ favorite blanket.”

You squinted your eyes at him, clutching the babe tighter to your chest. The blanket looked brand new, unmarred by the constant stream of dribble Atlas left everywhere he went. Eris ignored you in favor of situating the blanket into the crook of your elbow, situated next to his son. “He’s three months old, he doesn’t have a favorite blanket.”

“Surely pregnancy has not completely rotted your brain. This is his favorite blanket.” He ignored the glare you sent his way, furthering your annoyance. You gripped Atlas tight in one arm, using your free hand to smack Eris’s bicep. An incredulous look overcame his pale face as he turned back to you. “You’ll wake the babe - set him down before trying to get physical with me.”

“I’ll get real nice and physical when I throttle you.” Your threat was not received as you had intended. Instead of coiling in fear and cowardice, your mate moved about, putting everything back into all of the various chests. “Then you’d be late for dinner and breaking Madja’s rules, and I never took you for a tardy rulebreaker.”

“I can throttle you without breaking Madja’s rules.”

“My love do not pretend if you were to kill me you wouldn’t be riding my cock as you did it.” You gasped, moving to press Atlas further into your chest and covering his other ear with your hand. You hissed his name, sending a barbed spike down the bond in frustration. Eris’s hands met his hips, amusement quickly turning into exasperation. “He’s asleep.”

“He can hear you!”

“He is in a deep sleep from spending nearly an hour on your tit. He’s going to be out for the next hour or two.” Eris felt your frustration through the bond, placing his hands on your shoulders, causing you to look up at him. “Come now, I’ll escort you both to Night, see that you are safely in Feyre and Rhysand’s care, then I’ll come back here until tomorrow.”

Eris moved past you, grabbing the bags you had packed before putting them across his shoulders. He reached an arm out, taking Atlas from your hands and securing him to his chest. You reached out, already missing the warmth of your babe, a hand pressed to his back to feel his slow breathing. Eris moved his free hand up to your face, fingers soft caressed your cheek.

The world changed around the three of you, Atlas shifting slightly beneath your hand as the orange curtains you recently had hung up on the brown paneled walls were exchanged for the light blues of the foyer of the River House. Atlas didn’t stir, but the sudden change in the world made you slightly dizzy. It had been months since you had last winnowed, a fact more pronounced by the stagger in your stance.

Eris had been writing to Rhysand, requesting special permission for him to winnow directly into their home. In true Rhysand fashion, he turned it into a much bigger spectacle than it was by placing special limitations on it, telling him he’d change the wards when everyone departed at the end of the week. His letter contained an additional note at the end, stating, “I will, however, allow Atlas in through the wards permanently in case he were to be a savant and learn to winnow and his first action be to leave you.” You had sent Rhys a responding scathing letter using words Eris was not entirely certain were real.

Feyre and Rhysand were waiting in the foyer, Feyre quickly standing off of Rhys’s lap to embrace you. Feyre always treated you differently than the others did, perhaps because she knew how awful it could feel to be as no more than an extension of Rhysand. Or perhaps because she knew what it was like to go to the ends of the earth for your mate.

You melted in her embrace, her lilac and pear scent a bit flowery but welcome. Her hug was gentle, careful not to squeeze too hard, something the High Lady had to work at perfecting after being turned high fae. It had taken years for her to master her grip strength. That time was not missed, however, the crushed door handles were always a source of amusement.

“Eris,” Feyre smiled, reaching her hands out after untangling herself, shifting to look at the High Lord, “hand over the baby and no one gets hurt.”

You giggled, pushing Eris toward her outstretched arms. She cooed at the bundle as it was put into her arms, her fingers moving the blanket so she could see his face. She made little faces, the Cursebreaker nowhere in sight as the babe reached out for her, gently grabbing her loose hair.

“He looks just like you, Eris.”

“How unfortunate.” Rhys ignored the pointed look he received from Feyre, picking lint from his jacket as he strolled forward. You stayed silent as he wrapped his arms around your body, and you couldn’t help but melt a little in his embrace. He was an asshole, gods was he an asshole, but he was still your brother and you loved him so dearly. You could feel the tension slough off of Rhys’s shoulders in your embrace, hoping this weekend could be a step forward for all of you.

Eris leaned down, kissing Atlas on the forehead before softly rubbing his head. He gurgled in response, causing Feyre to chuckle.

“I just want to eat his little cheeks! Nyx doesn’t have his chubby cheeks anymore, it’s a real shame.” Her hand gently smoothed over Atlas’s cheeks as she spoke, her heart breaking over realizing just how much her little boy had grown.

“He’s not on the menu tonight, Feyre.”

“I know, but I just want to eat him! He’s truly adorable.” Feyre continued making faces, certain she could get a tiny giggle from them. She puffed her cheeks and moved her lips a bit, deflating at the indifference Atlas showed her.

“I trust that your wards are secure enough for the two of them.” Eris cut into the discussion, having noticed the sun moving through the windows. Stacks of papers sat on his desk waiting for his eyes to peruse them in preparation for the next day’s council.

Rhys rolled his eyes, nearly scoffing at the male’s tone. “If they weren’t sufficient, would I allow my mate and son to live in them?”

“Rhysand, I am not in the business of trying to make sense of every decision you make.” Rhys opened his mouth to respond, but Feyre’s voice cut through the growing tension, extinguishing the sparks the two High Lords were sending each other. “That’s enough, thank you Eris for winnowing them here. We’ll be seeing you tomorrow?”

His amber gaze was glued to the tiny bundle before dropping the bags he was holding. The Autumn High Lord did not want to leave his son. He was still so small and so vulnerable. He remembered all of his brothers at such a size and it never ceased to amaze him how much newborns truly depend upon their parents. He looked back up to his mate, one last confirmation needed. A slight nod was all it took before he cupped her jaw, swiftly kissing her forehead.

“I will see you all tomorrow, then.”

Feyre had left quickly after Eris’s departure, returning Atlas to your arms before checking on Nyx. Truthfully your sister in law looked exhausted, and you were sure she was taking any opportunity that Nyx slept to take a nap of her own. She had written to you just last week that Nyx was in a sleep regression and she and Rhys were not having a great time. You had offered to reschedule your visit, but Feyre insisted you come and outright demanded to see the babe. She had said Nyx had lost his baby smell ages ago and she was convinced smelling it on Atlas could get her through this sleep regression.

You sat in Rhys’s study, Atlas sleeping on your chest after having just fed and changed him. Before running off, Feyre had given you one of Nyx’s old onesies, the pale babe in your arms looked so out of place in the black fabric. It felt so strange to be back in Rhys’s study - it must have been at least two years since you had last been in this room. It looked exactly the same - the massive portrait of Feyre looming over the two of you. So much had changed the past few years, and yet nothing had. Rhys looked exactly the same sitting across from you. If you placed Atlas down, it would be as if you had never left.

“Watch out for Cassian.”

Rhys’s words confused you. You waited for further explanation, looking up to find Rhys’s gaze on Atlas. Deciding he likely won’t tell you, you asked, “why?”

Rhys leaned back in his chair, the leather groaning from the shift in weight. “He followed Feyre around for months, asking to try some of her milk.” He laughed at your grimace but continued. “Someone told him the health benefits of breastmilk and he’s more than determined to get his grubby hands on some.”

“Eris will be thrilled to hear that.”

You could hear his retort clear as a bell in your mind. “A bastard so desperate for a mother’s love he’d suck random teets to get it.” You decided it was best kept to yourself.

You ignored Rhys’s scowl at the mention of your mate. “Do you think he’s trying to convince Nesta to have a babe so he can take the milk for himself?”

“I’m absolutely sure of it. Nesta kicked him out of the house for a few days because he wouldn’t stop trying to make everything into a deal to impregnate her.” Rhys was smiling at the memory of a downtrodden Cassian slipping into the River House one night, Feyre passing him as he grumbled about her sister. You laughed softly at Cassian’s antics.

It felt strange to be back here - in the Night Court, in the River House. As if you hadn’t left, your family continued on. Their lives continued with or without you. Your heart felt a slight twinge at the realization. You would choose Eris again and again, but you did miss the everyday antics of your family.

“Have I told you that Eris’s hounds detest Lucien? He visited a week prior and two of them worked together, one in front and one in back, to table top him into some mud- what is that face for?” Rhysand tried to recover the earlier smile, his mouth slowly forming into a grimace. It was impossible not to notice - he looked as if he smelled something terrible.

“Nothing. Just remembering something I have to do.” A lie. Your blood was heating beneath your skin. It annoyed you to no end whenever Rhys lied to you, something you hadn’t been able to shake since childhood. It made you irrationally upset, hormones raging through you.

“No, it’s because I was talking to you about Autumn, wasn’t it? Can’t you at least pretend to care about my life?”

“I do care.” He leaned back in his chair, trying to give off an air of nonchalance, but his eyes remained sharp.

You stood slowly, ensuring your feet were steady as you rose with Atlas. “I won’t sit here and listen to you lie to me, Rhys. I thought we were past this, I thought things were different now.”

“They are different.” His curt responses caused your nostrils to flare, your jaw tightening with every word.

“Because I made them different?”

“Your words, not mine.” You groaned, feeling like a little girl before him. He looked like he were dealing with a petulant child, his gaze only adding more fuel to your anger.

“You are so..” you trailed off, not knowing where to start. Pigheaded, brainless, annoying, condescending.

Rhys’s mouth turned into a snarl. “Think any harder, why don’t you?”

“Oh, you’re such an asshole!” You cradled Atlas’s head closer to your chest, placing a hand over his ears. “You’re such a dick, Rhysand. You can’t stand that I have a life away from you and this court.”

“I tolerate it.”

Your jaw dropped as his words tried to take shape in your mind. “You tolerate it? What the fuck does that mean? I’m trying to open up to you about my life, Rhys. About my home. I’m trying to fix things.”

“Fix the things you broke? Why don’t you just go back to your new home, then, if Night is so inferior you have to cross courts for cock.”

You stilled, slowly turning towards your brother, head cocked. The tension had reached its boiling point but you weren’t shying away from it. “Is that all you think of me then? Someone who gave up her title, her name for love. That I did it all for a quick fuck?”

“Don’t act as if you gave it all up for him.”

“You forced me to!”

“I have never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to.” He rose to his feet, his hands slapping on his desk accenting his words. The air went cold at his words, the insinuation lingering.

“That’s rich, Rhysand. You spout off about choices, but really it’s always ‘option A: what Rhys wants’ or ‘option B: perilous death and despair’.”

“Maybe it’s because if I don’t guide you, you make stupid decisions.” His eyes flickered to Atlas, and your blood boiled beneath your skin. You took a step forward, jaw clenched as you snapped at him.

“Are you insinuating that Atlas was a stupid decision?”

“I’d never insinuate what I can convey with words.”

Tears stung in your eyes, one landing on the tiny head in your arms. The room was too stifling, too suffocating. You had to go anywhere but here.

“Well, if insinuations are out the window, listen to me loud and clear: fuck. you. Fuck you, Rhys. Sorry I don’t fall into line with the path you planned out for me. Sorry for making my own choices. Sorry that the Mother made plans for me and didn’t ask for your input. And I am terribly sorry for Feyre because you are an asshole!”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You winnowed into the void. If you heard Rhysand’s voice for one second longer, you’d say something horrible. Irredeemable. Anger simmered at his words, claws desperate to come out and stoop to his level. He never understood your choices, never tried. No matter how many times he had promised to listen, Rhys had never tried to fix the walls he had put up between the two of you.

The world shifted as you thought about your home in Autumn, the brilliant leaves of the forests, the warm spices of the kitchen, your mate’s touch. A blur of colors passed and your throat tightened as shame washed over you. Eris was right - you shouldn’t have come. You needed more time. Rhys needed more time. You clutched Atlas tighter, taking comfort that you had him, at least.

Mind hazy, you moved through the courts, the world flashing with sunshine, the rush of an ocean, and the patter of rain until your magic unraveled, and the two of you fell from the air onto your back into a wooded area. At the impact, Atlas sniffed and then whined as he rubbed his face against your shoulder.

You took in your surroundings, opening your eyes to the bright afternoon sun peeking through the trees. Your eyes darted the area, looking for any signs of life as you laid still. Atlas moved in your arms as you maneuvered the two of you, trying to sit up to lean against a tree for better sight. Once you were certain no one else was around, you pulled Atlas away from you, unwrapping him from his swaddle to assess him for any injuries. His wailing was piercing through the woods, a sure cry to any creatures that were here.

You shushed him as you checked him, content that his worst injury was being woken from a nap. His cries were lacerations on your heart, each tiny inhale causing so much distress. It nearly cracked you in half, deep breaths a half hearted attempt at self-soothing.

The land was unfamiliar, nothing about it gave you any information about where you could be. The two of you were surrounded by trees, none any species which were familiar. The green leaves blocked out most of the sun, occasional streaks of light passing through. This didn’t feel like any of the solar courts - did you winnow past the mountain? If you had, you would have landed in Winter, or if you veered off course in Summer. Maybe you overshot and ended up in Spring?

The two of you moved about the area, your feet crunching on dry leaves as you went. You hadn’t made it very far before stumbling over a large root, some how hidden beneath your skirts. You barely caught yourself, the jerking motion causing another round of screams to come from Atlas. His little face was so red from crying. You looked back to the spot you had landed, hoping to sit back against that tree once more, but the land behind you wasn’t what it had been. In its place was a swampy scape, several inches of water that would have made your trek impossible. You clutched Atlas tighter to your chest, tucking his head beneath your neck.

You swiveled your head around, breathing labored as you realized you were somewhere you haven’t been in centuries. Where the land was nonsensical and ever changing, where horror stories began and ended. The land above the mountain where atrocities occurred in the caverns and tunnels beneath it.

The two of you were somewhere in The Middle. A land no court wanted for themselves, the tireless mazes too much for any fae to justify living in.

A land no one wanted to be lost in.

Pumpkin wandered into Eris’ room, the small pup clearly lost without Atlas to follow around. Eris ignored the whimpering from the hound, the beast having grown incredibly close to his son in a short span of time. It was sweet the way the hound trailed behind him when he was carrying Atlas, shushing and singing him to sleep. Eris was especially happy to see Pumpkin and Clover standing on high alert whenever Atlas was being fed. It soothed some part of him to know even in moments he had to step away from, his family was well guarded, even if just from his brothers.

Eris reviewed his notes, annoyance simmering beneath his skin at the distance between him and his family. He’d never deny you anything, but if you had had any doubts about spending a night without him, he wouldn’t complain about your presence in Autumn for one more night.

Pumpkin whined once more, Eris’s pen dropping at the sound. His chest felt hot with anger, something he’s unsurprised by. Any visit with Rhys often left the two of you fighting, your anger flaring through his veins as you fought. Your own feelings were compounding his own, utter annoyance at the meeting that kept him away from his mate.

Eris felt a sharp tug in his chest, nearly pulling him from his seat. Everything inside of him was pinging, his chest felt heavy with fear and uncertainty. What was happening over there? He waited a moment, trying to parse out each emotion. The anger in his chest subsided, every instinct inside of him urging him to go. He abandoned his notes, watching the brown hues of his study swirl and churn into black and blues.

Feyre looked about the office, confusion crossing her blue gray eyes as she didn’t find who she was looking for. “Rhys, where’s your sister?” Feyre’s voice echoed across the room as Rhysand took another sip from his glass of whiskey, slumped in his chair.

“Autumn.”

Feyre looked around, as if he were lying, covering up her hiding somewhere in the room to surprise her. “What do you mean she’s in Autumn? She was supposed to stay here for a week so we could spend time with her and Atlas.” Rhys shrugged, his eyes unable to meet Feyre’s, “she left.”

Feyre’s eyes were skeptical, certain that her mate was leaving pieces out. Things had been tense, but surely it didn’t take her mate three hours to scare off his sister?

“Did Eris take her back? Change his mind about his mate being here?”

Rhys gritted his teeth at his brother in law’s name, sinking into his chair slightly, “no.”

Feyre ticked her jaw, determination flooding her to understand her mate’s standoffishness. “Was she upset by our accommodations?”

“No.”

“Did Cassian annoy her into leaving?”

“No.” It came out as a growl, causing Feyre’s eyebrows to raise. “Just cut to the chase, Feyre. Ask what you really want to know.”

“What did you do?”

He sucked in a breath, as if the question were shocking. “Words were exchanged.”

That was all Rhys was able to get out before the doors to the room burst open, the wood hitting the walls as all of the heat was sucked out of the room, everything going cold as the High Lord of the Autumn Court stormed in, his rage palpable. Cassian trailed behind him, trying and failing to hold him back, unable to stop his path.

The redhead looked around the room before he stalked over to Rhys, grabbing the collar of his tunic before his hand connected directly with his eye, spitting out, “where is my mate?”

Rhys wrapped his hands around Eris’ wrists, trying to get him to stop. Cassian’s hands wrapped around Eris’ biceps before quickly pulling them away, his hands smoldering.

“Stay back, pigeon, if I find out you had a hand in this I’ll burn more than just your hands.”

Eris was a blazing storm inside of the house - his flames were erupting over the surface, turning the room red with heat. Dark tendrils of shadow coated the flames, attempting to extinguish them. The flames burned a bright blue in response, whirling around the tendrils, burning them up.

“Did my sister come to her senses and leave you? Ran off with one of your more capable brothers?” Rhysand’s smirk dropped as Eris hauled him from the chair, pressing his back to the wall. Eris’ long fingers dug into the lapel of Rhys’ dark coat, the fabric singing as the redhead pressed him into the wall.

“Watch your tongue, Rhysand. It would be a remarkable mount on my wall.”

The two males snarled at each other, Rhys moving his leg out to get Eris off balance. He faltered just enough for Rhys to get momentum, swinging his fist into Eris’s face.

Feyre and Cassian were scrambling as the two continued their brawl, both High Lords successfully bruising the other.

“Where is she, Rhys? Have you locked her away in a tower, thinking I wouldn’t notice?”

Rhys pushed Eris off of him, hands moving to straighten his jacket to find his lapels singed off.

“Perhaps you need to hone your abilities at hide and seek before Atlas is older.” Rhysand’s nonchalance caused Eris’s anger to burn brighter, certain the day was going to end with the Night Court in ashes.

“Why can’t I find my fucking mate but I can feel her desperation and fear in my chest?” Eris’s words clanged through the room, everyone stopping to take in his words. Feyre moved closer to him, her voice soft. “What do you mean, Eris?”

“I mean,” he snarled in Rhys’s direction, “something's very wrong. She has never felt like this in my chest before. Not even during labor. She’s panicking, I have never- never felt this from her before.”

Feyre turned to Rhys, her eyes wild with concern. Eris was quick to interject, his voice echoing through the room. “No, don’t do this. Don’t be communicating where I can’t hear it. This is about my mate, I deserve to hear it.”

“You don’t deserve-” Feyre’s arm on Rhys’s bicep stops him. “Rhys, where is she? Where’s Atlas?”

The High Lord of the Night Court’s chest was heaving with each breath, certain a rib or two was broken. “They went back to Autumn.”

“They haven’t arrived in Autumn.”

Rhys went pale, concern taking over his features. “They must be. They winnowed away ages ago - did she go straight to bed?”

The words fueled his rage once more, his voice on the edge of despair. “She is nowhere in Autumn.”

Trudging through the forest, you weren’t certain which way you were headed. You tried to feel for that bond with Eris in your chest, trying to pull it taut to receive some direction but whatever cord it created merely tugged you in over a dozen directions, the strength of each pull ebbing and flowing with your breath. You felt Eris’ concern grow as you stood, looking in all directions.

The trees were too tall for you to see the sun - it would give you some indication of which direction to head. Autumn laid in the southeast of The Middle, but navigating through its woods would still be impossible even with the sun’s guidance.

You cursed your hothead, annoyed you couldn’t just run out of Rhys’s study and go hide in your room until Eris came back. Surely you could have tried to mend things with Rhys, not just going on the defensive?

You spun in a circle, nearly tripping over more roots before deciding to just pick a direction and go. Atlas remained calm in your arms, what little power you have going to soothe him. Your breaths were slow and deliberate, trying to keep yourself calm. It was working enough to soothe Atlas and to keep a level head, and that was all that mattered.

You would need a source of water soon. It felt like you were moving on a downward slope, keeping your eyes peeled for any creeks or streams nearby. Sweat collected at the nape of your neck, sticking to the hair that covered it. It was oppressively muggy, the air feeling heavy with humidity.

Time was hard to track in the Middle, every moment stretching endlessly as you continued to walk a path that seemed to never change. Each tree looked the same as the last, no distinguishing characteristics to help you track any sort of progress.

Perhaps you were stuck in an endless loop, circling the same bit of land over and over until you collapsed from exhaustion.

“Running from something?”

A high pitched voice caused you to stop mid stride. A sinister tilt to the question that caused you to secure Atlas to your chest before your feet went flying without turning to look at the source.

Eris paced across their floor, a thin layer of fire coating his skin and clothes, a small trail of flames followed his path on the floor.

“I would prefer if you didn’t leave scorch marks on my floor.” Rhysand’s voice was buzzing in Eris’s ears, much like the annoying pests of Summer.

“And I would prefer my mate to have a better family, preferably one who doesn’t allow her to leave unattended so soon after giving birth.”

Eris was itching to unleash his anger, desperate for some fight to break out to let out a fraction of the rage that had nestled in his gut.

“My sister’s been strong-willed since she was born, anything she gets her mind on she does.” Rhys strode closer to Eris, looking down at the new High Lord. It hadn’t even been two full years since the magic had chosen him. The newfound power that thrummed within him was an adjustment, but he had quickly taken the reins of it. Now he felt like nothing more than a vessel for the well of magic inside him, set to erupt any moment.

“And yet, she’s not foolish enough to believe she could winnow across Prythian unless she felt she had no other option.”

“What are you insinuating, Eris?”

“I’m not insinuating anything, Rhysand. I’m speaking directly. I apologize if my language is too complex for your pigeon brain to understand.” Something in Eris snapped before he pushed Rhysand up against the wall, his head thumping against the wall as flames licked around Rhys’s skin, not burning, but restricting. “My mate felt so unsafe she took our babe and her chances of going anywhere but here.”

Every other word was enunciated with Eris shoving him into the wall, “and now you better pray to the Mother we find them both unharmed or your mate will rule this court alone.”

Rhys snarled at the threat, a rebuttal dying on his tongue as someone pulled Eris off of him, shoving him into a chair. Eris’ snarl died as he met the eyes of the eldest Archeron, the only person in this court he truly tolerated.

“Killing Rhysand can wait. Unfortunately, he may be helpful in finding her.” Nesta’s voice was a pleasant surprise for Rhys, probably for the first and last time. He took in a deep breath, the flames gone from his neck, before he straightened his jacket, moving toward the maps Azriel and Cassian had been looking over. The two Illyrians had been having a discussion of their own while Eris and Rhys fought, both too caught up in plotting to pay mind to the High Lords. Cassian’s thick fingers trailed a path from Velaris to where they knew the Forest House was located.

“Eris would know the second she stepped foot in Autumn, Rhys would know if she were in Night.”

Azriel stood rigid, his wings tucked in tight behind him. A formidable strategist determining the right course of action. “She could be anywhere in Day, Dawn, or Winter.”

“Or in The Middle.” Just the name gave Nesta chills, the phantom feel of the Kelpie around her. She swallowed harshly, the action feeling more restricting than it should.

“Lucien’s in Day, I could fill him and Helion in there while Azriel goes to talk to Thesan. Mor can go to Winter. Rhys, Cassian, Nesta, and Eris can look around the Middle. Elain, you stay here, take care of Nyx. If she comes back, let the twins know and they’ll contact us.” Feyre looked around, wanting to see how everyone felt about the plan. Everyone was on edge, this relief team more likely to implode on itself than succeed.

This was a tragedy and everyone had a finger they wanted to use to pinpoint the source.

Trees were a blur, hitting the ground in swift footfalls, every breath not big enough. There was no cleared path to take, the brush and bramble catching on ankles. Blood dropped from the nicks and cuts of thorns, but the urgency to run never stopped.

Atlas continued crying, soft wails coming from him as you pulled him closer to your chest, trying to quiet his pain.

There was no way to know where you were going, paths changing as you moved down them, but you continued forward, deciding it was your best option. You knew whoever found you was still following you, their breathing so loud it felt like they were right behind you.

Sudden sharp, shooting pain caused you to fall, your ankle caught on something as you fell forward. Quick thinking had you turn on your side, taking the brunt of the fall, except some thorny vines sliced through the swaddle, cutting Atlas’s arm.

Brows cinched together, the pain from your foot almost unbearable. Eyes were pinched closed, not wanting to see what had caught your foot. Whatever it was was still there - and was crushing your leg too. It took everything not to wail out in pain, matching Atlas’s cries. You breathed in through your nose, lifting up your skirt enough to see the metal bear trap that had clamped shut around your left leg, blood rushing out in spurts.

The sight caused bile to catch in your throat, quickly moving your head to the side to expel it.

Trying to sit up and assess the situation was no longer an option when the hunter appeared, her strong hands wrapping around the trap and tugging your body toward her. A scream ripped from your throat as blood gushed out of the wound, hot pain causing your vision to darken with each tug of the chain. Atlas was wailing, the protective arms of his mother insecure for the first time. His grip loosened on the duck blanket he carried, the yellow fabric turning brown with mud.

The Inner Circle and Eris were divided into teams, each taking on their own travels. Once everything was agreed upon, Eris was the first to winnow away, grabbing Nesta by the arm to take with him. She struggled in his grip as the world blurred around them, the smell of the unforgiving forest burning Nesta’s nose. Eris held tight against her as the familiar smell of burnt umber filled his nose, the two reappearing in his study.

Nesta searched the room, never having set foot in the Autumn Court, much less the Forest House Eris resided in. She looked at the papers scattered across Eris’s desk, eyes quickly scanning for anything of interest. A quick, high whistle startled her, bristling in his grip before a large hound came barreling through the door. A second, longer whistle came before the beautiful, sleek hound stopped before Eris.

He wrapped his hand around the hound’s collar before winnowing the three of them once more. Nesta’s head spun as the ground slipped from beneath her feet once more, the back to back winnowing causing her to stagger once they landed in a forested outcrop.

Eris quickly let go of her, his ears and nose twitching for anything he could pick out. Satisfied the area was secure enough, he gave the command to Clover, telling her to fan out. He was certain she knew Atlas and his mate by name, but nonetheless he provided a discarded shirt to her. She took large inhales, memorizing the scent before she ran off, her nose to the ground. She weaved between trees, dodging above ground roots with practiced ease.

Eris didn’t wait before taking off in a brisk pace after Clover, boots stomping through the muddied ground, his boot prints replacing paw prints in the soil. Nesta tried to keep up, her form trailing behind Eris as they moved through the landscape.

The Middle was unlike anywhere else in Prythian. It was what Nesta expected faelands to be when she was a mortal girl. Roots snarled over barely forged paths, an attempt to trip up any travelers. The landscape was hazy, almost dreamlike. There was an idea of what you were looking at, but the longer you looked, the more confusing it became. Hairs stood on end, a perpetual feeling of being watched followed travelers as they moved across paths.

Paths were nonsensical - rivers flowed up the mountain, ending wherever they wished rather than venturing out to the sea. Nesta’s limited experience here before was enough to know she did not care for the creatures that lurked here.

Nesta’s eyes were sharp, looking in every direction, desperate to pinpoint and remove the feeling of being watched. Eris trudged ahead, uncaring of Nesta’s plight behind him. He made no attempt at stealth - whatever they would find out here, Eris wanted the beast to know he was on the move. A bark up ahead quickened Eris’s pace, a catch in his throat at what his furry companion may have found.

The barking continued until Eris reached a break in the trees, finding Clover sat on her haunches. Tears sprang at his eyes at Clover’s discovery, crouching down to investigate further. He knew what it was, even covered in dirt and mud. He had handled the thing just hours prior.

Nesta caught up to the pair, pressing her hand to a tree, trying to catch her breath. Eris was hunched over something while Clover whined softly next to him, sitting perfectly still. His arm reached out, pulling something from the mud. He motioned Nesta over, pulling her water skein from her before pouring some out onto the muddied thing. The clear water ran brown, the dirt clinging to the object before running off it. Eris’s fingers rubbed at the spherical shape to reveal yellow fabric. He poured more water, draining the entire skein, to find a tiny yellow blanket with the face of a duck sewn onto it.

Darkness swam at the edge of your vision, everything feeling so bright as you were dragged through the dirt. Your fingers pressed hard into Atlas’s blanket, a firm grip desperate to keep him as close as possible. His cries were causing pain to swell in your breasts, your body not knowing the difference between his hunger and his concern.

Your body ached, the pain ricocheting through every crevice. You grit your teeth, not wanting to give the female any satisfaction.

There were rumors of fae who roamed The Middle. They were an interesting subspecies of fae - their movements were said to be jerky and strange, their bodies having adapted to the constant change of their homelands.

There was no known record of how many there were or anything about them. They were urban legend during Amarantha’s reign, thought to lurk the woods to drag anyone who fled her captivity back to the Evil Queen herself.

Rumor turned into a nightmare as she grabbed you by the bear trap, your cry of pain echoing through the trees, certain the blades were going to cut through the bone. A gutteral scream left you as she pulled you up by the ankle, shoving you into what seemed to be the back of the wagon. Somehow you still managed a tight grip on Atlas, his wails blocking out all sound. The wretched creature pushed the two of you up, your ankle catching on something too dark to see as she pushed you further in. It smelled awful, the stench of urine and vomit coating your nostrils.

Her rough, barklike hand let go, the pain subsiding enough to look around. You felt woozy from the blood loss, certain you were going mad when you heard barking somewhere in the distance. There wasn’t much in the back of the wagon - a wooden floor covered in various dark, unidentifiable stains.

Your thoughts whirled with self-deprecation, this whole situation being preventable if you had just stopped and waited.

Patience was a virtue you certainly had not acquired.

It was getting harder to stay awake, the pain overbearing. Sweat made your clothes cling to you, nearly chafing from the dryness. The last thing you thought of before drifting off was that the barking sounded like home. It sounded like warm pumpkin bread and cold nights spent by the fire.

The wet blanket squished between his fingers, water evaporating off the surface as he boiled with anger. The air around him seemed to silence, waiting to know what the High Lord would do next.

“Clover, find.” His command was razor sharp, the smokehound racing off, her muzzle to the ground. Eris ended many of his days with Clover, the hound loose, the need to hunt satiated as she found whatever it was she had been looking for. The thrill of not knowing what the two would find.

It was the worst hunt of his life. The uncertainty of how it would end. Most hunts saw him thirst for blood, content at culling the populations of the prey animals around Autumn.

This hunt was nothing like that.

He waited for his trusted companion to return, not wanting his own scent to interfere. Clover was the most clever dog he had bred, but he wouldn’t leave anything up to chance now.

“Nesta!” The voice shouting for the Valkyrie wasn’t too far away, his deep, loud voice not causing Eris to look away from where Clover had descended to.

Nesta wasn’t surprised Cassian had found the pair - her mate had spent the entirety of her time in the Middle tugging and pulling at the cord connecting them. She could feel his concern through it, the concern deepening each time a sound spooked her. But Nesta kept him at an arm’s length. She knew that cold rage that still lingered inside her at Feyre’s near death.

She knew exactly how Eris felt both now and about Rhysand in general. They both were members of the ‘resignedly having Rhysand as a brother in law’ club.

Nesta responded by pulling the bond, tugging Cassian in their direction. She could hear branches breaking and curses shouted before the two Illyrians made their way through the trees. They were both covered in dirt and sweat, the dried mud nearly up to their necks. Nesta couldn’t help the small smirk that formed at seeing Rhysand’s appearance so unpolished.

“Nes-” she quickly cut Cassian off, holding a finger up to him before turning back to Eris. He stood still, lingering on the path his hound had taken away from them. Rhysand observed him too, and Nesta was certain some barb laid on his tongue. Before he could, she brought the two up to speed about the blanket in a hushed tone. As she was finishing, a high pitched bark echoed through the wood. Eris took off in a sprint, the three quickly chasing off after him. They ran several miles, barely keeping up with Eris’s pursuit.

Eris met Clover’s barking, the hound circling a wagon, keeping the owner from getting into the front. The hair on the hound’s spine was raised, her teeth bared as she snarled and snapped at the fae. The horses attached to the wagon were startled by the hound, causing their own commotion. The pauses after their whinnying should have been silent, the space between brays a reprieve. Instead it was filled with the sound of a wailing baby.

Clover’s teeth clacked at the stocky female, sinking into the fabric of her pants and letting go before she was swatted. The hound had repeated this over and over again, not having received a command to go in for the kill. This hadn’t kept the hound from drawing blood as she nipped, her own territorial act over his master’s family. Blood was dripping from the female’s leg, thick, green liquid falling in puddles on the ground.

The other three fae weren’t far behind Eris, quickly approaching the scene not a moment after him. Cassian moved toward the wagon while the others approached the female Clover was on the verge of mauling.

Rhysand flicked his wrist, the reins restraining the horses disappearing, the pair running off. Their hoofbeats got quieter as the fae were surrounded on all sides. She looked between the four sets of eyes, certain the dog was her best bet. The most unlikely of allies banded together as a pack offering no escape.

Cassian climbed into the wagon, his weight shaking the cart. The bounty hunter flicked her forked tongue out, her hand reaching for something on her belt. A shadow lashed out, wrapping around her forearm, causing her to let go of her belt. She shrieked in pain as the shadow twisted her arm behind her back.

The clearing was dark, the only sound came from the bounty hunter’s mouth, cries of pain swallowed them as arm cracked and bent in every direction. The wind caught beneath the bounty hunter’s legs, forcing her to her knees.

“Cassian?” It was perhaps the only time Eris had referred to the general by name. His tone was stern, a voice he had used for centuries as a general himself. But something desperate creeped at the edge of his voice, a reality he didn’t want to consider.

The one where he was too late. That this was the wrong wagon. That his mate was somewhere else and this was a waste of time.

Cassian’s silence forced Eris to move, his feet jumping off the ground without him telling them to. He lunged forward, catching the fae offguard as he landed on her.

Eris laid on top of the bounty hunter, her long sharp nails scratching at him. One of her arms was still behind her, but she was determined. He didn’t register the fabric she ripped through, uncaring at the scratches on his arms.

“Cassian, are they alive?” His question was accented with the sharp thud her head made as it hit the ground. She was snarling up at him, her lifeless eyes dark as she peered up at the High Lord.

“Have enough coin for the pair?”

Eris’ fangs grew longer, the High Lord’s second form desperate to come out. His fingers quickly changed to talons, the nails biting through the fae’s skin, causing her to cry out. She began thrashing once more, Eris’ weight pinning her down. He was snarling, practically spitting as he couldn’t contain the rage boiling inside of him. He heard shuffling behind him, Nesta or Rhysand moving to help Cassian.

“They’re breathing!” He wasn’t sure who yelled it, the sounds blurring together. It sounded like Cassian, but all his mind could make out was they were alive. Alive, alive, alive. It was enough to tide him over for now.

“Take them to the Forest House, my healers are on standby.” He didn’t know if they responded, if they even looked his way, if they tried to argue. That thrumming need inside of him to protect his mate felt satiated enough knowing Nesta or Cassian was with her, that they were en route to Autumn. He wanted to be there, wanted to hold the loves of his life as they went back home. He was desperate to know how they were, to listen to the beating of their hearts.

His gaze narrowed back on the creature beneath him, her brown skin turning red beneath him. His heart was miles away, but it would eat him alive to see a fae with such audacity not receive their comeuppance.

“And what was the price on her head? How much was she worth to you?” His tone was ice, his question not a rhetorical one. He wanted to know how much this lowlife wanted for the two most precious things in his life. His wonderful mate, his equal in every way. Atlas, his darling boy. To consider them nothing more than traded goods made his stomach churn.

The bounty hunter couldn’t answer, her throat drying and desperate for water with every breath. The air was unbearable hot, but she managed to whisper out, “five thousand gold marks.” Once the words escaped her lips, the hard metal of coins pelted her face. She winced from the pain. Eris ignored the resounding crack in the air, metal meeting bone.

“Here, take it all.”

He poured more coins onto her, winnowing them from somewhere. He could barely think straight, every fiber of his being thrumming with revenge and anger.

A life for a life, an eye for an eye.

But really, what is the life of a trafficker?

Every breath was difficult, her lungs ached with heat. Fire caught around the pair, the flames staying low to the ground. Eris still sat atop her, unmoved by the flames circling their bodies, slowly making their way closer to the tree like fae.

“Take them back.” Eris’s command was directed to the group behind him, if they were still even there. He had no idea - his world had become so small. It was just him and this fae now. “Take them back to Autumn. Now.”

Her tongue dissolved to ash in her mouth, unable to speak. The High Lord grabbed more coins, shoving them into her mouth. The gold coins began losing form in her mouth, a river of melted gold pouring down her throat. It burned as it moved through her body, all of her organs alight with heat and fire.

Eris watched as her eyes dried out, as she tried to scream but was unable to. He watched as she thrashed beneath him, begging for mercy as if he were a kind and just god. Eris didn’t believe in the old gods, but if he did, he knew they would approve. He watched for several moments before her body slowly began turning to ash, carried away in the wind.

He didn’t linger long after the remnants of her floated away, not even looking back before winnowing back to Autumn, rematerializing to find the Forest House in chaos. Servants moved quickly through the halls, hurried footsteps as they carried linens and rags toward the team of healers he could hear yelling down the hallway.

“Call off your guards.” The first words to greet him were from his brother in law. It was a voice he could never get used to, the smoothness grating.

Eris’s mate and Rhysand looked strikingly similar - same violet eyes, same feline-like face. But Rhysand didn’t look right in the Forest House. He didn’t carry with him the warmth that made his mate look so at home here, as if the entire court had been made in preparation for her.

Rhysand seemed so out of place in his sister’s home. The once close siblings’ stark differences could not be ignored.

Eris waved his hand noncommittally, the guards lowering their swords from Cassian’s and Rhysand’s necks.

“They let me bring her in before threatening me, at least.” Cassian’s joke doesn’t land, the silence bouncing through the hall before Eris moved forward, his path straight to his bedchambers. It was a guess - the correct one - as to where they’d put you to look over you. He stormed into the room, a fierce blaze on the wind as he moved inside. You had been placed on the bed, the healers circling you tending to every inch of you.

The bond shook with anger, that golden string practically vibrating with urgency at the mangled mess that had been your ankle.

Nesta was standing off to the side, holding Atlas as he cried.

“I didn’t want to leave her alone. I haven’t taken my eyes off her this whole time.”

It felt like the cord around his heart had divided into two - one path to the bed, his bloodied mate, the other to Nesta and the tiny bundle that laid in her arms.

He knew which you’d prefer for him to go to. You had an army of healers around you as you laid unconscious, but all Atlas had was Nesta.

“Give him to me.” The tone of the High Lord. Nesta slipped the small babe into Eris’s arms, “they looked him over. He has a scratch on his arm, but otherwise fine.”

The worst feeling his son had experienced up until now had been the harshness of birth. The sensory overload of the world - how loud and bright it was after being evicted from his dark and cozy home. He had not known physical pain, had never been exposed to it. Every fae held him with such tenderness, it was impossible for Eris to rectify that his son, barely a month old, knew the atrocities of fae.

“Someone will check my son every half hour, ensuring he is in good health.” None of the healers answered, but Eris had known them long enough to know they heard him. He took a breath, holding the bundle tight to his chest. Atlas’s cries slowed, softening as he felt the familiar comforts of home.

Amidst all the chaos of the room, it seemed almost like they were alone. Eris’s ears twitched, listening intently to his son’s breathing.

A commotion was heard through the door, but Eris ignored it, opting to let himself feel the comfort of his son.

Shouting could now be heard, breaking the stillness he had artificially created.

Eris wretched open the door, searching for the source of the yelling, only to find Cassian and Rhysand fighting with the guards at the door.

His jaw tightened, his mate’s family a permanent fixture beneath his skin.

“What are you doing?” Everyone stilled at his words, the hall clearing of commotion.

“Never mind. I do not care. You have done enough. Her family,” Eris nodded towards Nesta and Cassian, “are allowed to stay. You,” he pokes a finger into Rhys’s chest, the tip singeing his shirt, making the black shirt slowly turn ashen, “are not welcome here until she says so.”

The two males continued staring each other down. Eris didn’t blink as he addressed the crowd, “if any of your thoughts align with your High Lord’s words from earlier, I suggest you leave now before I have to disgrace myself with the sight of you once more. Otherwise we have accommodations you may stay in.”

The redhead went back inside to his mate, shutting the door on Rhysand. Eris slumped back in the chair he had pulled up next to the bed, uncertain what to do with himself. Small flames erupted from the hand not holding Atlas as he flexed his fingers, trying and failing to burn off some of his anger. It was all consuming - the death of the fae responsible doing little to quench the adrenaline pumping through him.

Eris couldn’t stop the biting words coming from him, couldn’t stop the waves of anger coming off of him as the healers worked around him. Your hand stayed still in his, his grip firm as he let loose words he didn’t truly mean.

“Why are you out here?”

“I want to be in there, but that Night Court healer kicked me out.” The anger had lessened the longer Eris had sat in the hallway, his mind clear of the chaos anger brings to the forefront.

Lucien raised an eyebrow, “you take commands from old bitties now?”

“I do when they tell me to come back when I won’t set the curtains on fire.” Lucien looked down at his eldest brother. A fixture in his life, someone so tall in his memories, now looking so inconceivably small as he sat on the floor. He was the High Lord of the Autumn Court, but at this moment he was nothing more than a concerned mate. “And now I feel no better than a kicked hound.”

“You’ve never been one to let being kicked keep you down.”

“I wasn’t the one who got kicked.” Eris’s words were cracked as they came out, finally verbalizing the guilt that had been gnawing at him for hours by this point. It wasn’t very freeing, but it felt surprisingly good to share the feeling with Lucien.

“I wasn’t there-” Lucien was quick to cut him off. The love of your life in danger indirectly because of you was one few understood. “And if you were, this would never have happened.”

Eris stayed quiet, a sight so unfamiliar to Lucien. He looked to the door, surprised at Eris’s lack of desire to have the last word.

“Where is Atlas?”

“The Archerons are watching over him. Your mate arrived just before I was removed from my own bedchambers.” Lucien was certain it wouldn’t take much to procur that story from Elain. His smile was hard to contain imagining the healers tossing him out.

“Do you trust them?”

“They are three rooms down in a windowless, winnowless room.”

“So you trust the viper?” The fact Eris allowed them to take Atlas away from him was proof enough for Eris’s feelings about the pair. He didn’t want to mention how he wasn’t even trusted alone with Atlas yet.

“I suppose I do.”

A pregnant pause settled between the two, their gazes coming together to look at the door. They sat in silence for a while, neither looking from the door, their minds stuck on the possibilities that laid behind it. Eris tugged at the bond in his chest, desperate to feel his mate on the other side of it. He kept his face neutral at the silence that followed.

“It will likely be a while before she wakes.” A hard truth even harder to verbalize.

“I did not come here for her.”

Lucien’s voice came out strained and soft, so unlike his usual confidence. It betrayed his worries - his concern for not only his friend and new sister, but for the brother next to him. Eris was cruel, playing the part Beron had wanted for so long it was difficult for him to untangle every memory for the truth behind it.

Lucien knew Jesminda wasn’t his mate, but the grief that nearly consumed him whole was real. He hated Eris for playing the part of dutiful son, but he had played the part of rebellious son. Were the roles they played assigned or did they have some choice in them? The rebellious son returned home to the legacy the prodigal son had dismantled.

“I mean, I did come for her. I want her to be alright.” Lucien leaned against the wall before sliding down it, sitting next to Eris, facing the door his brother’s mate lay behind.

His unsaid words hung in the air and, shocking both of them, Eris reached out a hand, desperate for some familiar touch. Lucien took it with little hesitation, squeezing softly. Gods, he couldn’t remember the last time he just sat in his brother’s company like this or the last time he had touched Eris.

Despite the circumstances, it felt easy.

The two sat in silence for a while, the air heavy and stifling with uncertainty.

“Lucien, I..”

Eris trailed off, not sure if the language existed to convey how much fear lingered in his chest. He felt your pain bouncing inside of him like a dull ache, but he couldn’t feel you any longer. He couldn’t take a moment to linger in the part of his chest that was normally bursting with everything you. He didn’t hear any music, the silence almost deafening. Lucien squeezed his hand again, “I know.”

“No you don’t.”

Lucien shrugged, his long hair swishing with the movement. “I don’t know.” He brushed some of his hair off his shoulder, “but I know you look like shit.”

Eris didn’t need to look down at himself to know that his brother was right - he hadn’t bathed since they all went off looking for you, certain there was debris and blood all over his clothes and hair. The sweat soaked shirt clung to his chest, his skin itchy from the contact. The larger of the two made a big show of sniffing the air, crinkling his nose in disgust. “Smell like it, too. But that’s nothing new.”

Eris growled, unable to ignore his brother’s taunts. “At least I am not a smartass.”

“Ah,” Lucien tutted, a smug look on his face, “now we both know that is a lie. Autumn’s High Lord, starting your new tenure off on mistruths. What a look.”

Lucien’s feline smirk lessened a bit as he looked at his brother with something bordering on fondness. “I will take up the hallway guard if you go bathe. Really, you want your mate to smell you like this? If she doesn’t leave after that, I will be certain you’ve poisoned her mind somehow.”

“I am certain that would be the worst of my crimes.”

“I would believe so, forcing the mother of my babe to believe she was in love with you.”

Eris hissed in response, his knees popping as he stood up. Lucien ignored his brother, his barbs continuing.

“To think the mother of my child could be in love with an old, decrepit thing like you. Witchcraft, I say.”

“You’re not going to be speaking for long if you keep this up.”

“He does look rather like me, don’t you think?” Lucien grinned, something big and wolfish. The look only a little brother could have at getting beneath his brother’s skin.

“And why is your son so pale?”

Lucien shrugged, unbothered by Eris’s irritation. “Ran out of pigment. Who am I to question the Mother?”

“Ran out of my pigment my ass,” Eris muttered, finally moving down the hall to some bathing chambers.

“Do all High Lords speak with such vulgarity or just you?”

Eris responded by slamming the door, blocking out Lucien’s laughter. He didn’t linger long in the bath, the extra two hundred feet of distance felt like too much space between him and his family. He didn’t want to admit it, but Lucien was right - having the grime removed from his skin made him feel more capable of handling things. Fresh clothes made him feel more like himself.

His brother was still in the hallway when he returned, his head shaking slightly when he saw Eris walking in his direction. The healer must still be tending to you. He stopped at the door next to yours, turning the knob before walking in. The two older Archerons were in the room, his brother’s mate carrying Atlas in her arms. Eris’s son appeared to be in good health - so far each check proved the same, and despite the physician's groaning, he continued them. Elain seemed happy to carry Atlas around, her soft voice explaining to him the recent travels she and Lucien had gone on.

“Tulips of every color covered the fields. I’m sure one day Lucien and I can take you to see them.” Her vivid descriptions of the continent wasted on the babe’s ears. Nesta’s gray eyes looked toward the door, watching as Eris entered.

“Elain, the High Lord’s going to have you killed for speaking of kidnapping his son.” He couldn’t help the slight tilt to his mouth, some deep part of him appreciating Nesta’s attempt at normalcy.

“Nonsense, Nesta. If I had Elain killed, Lucien would mope about the house for the rest of his life.” His hands reached out, gently taking Atlas from Elain’s hold. “You keep him entertained for me. I owe you a great debt for it.”

The middle Archeron never knew how to respond to Eris, having only truly interacted with him a handful of times up to this point. She swallowed, thinking of all the stories Lucien had told her about his eldest brother and how language was his preferred method of battle.

“Perhaps you could entertain him with the dog toys?”

Eris tilted his head, his thumb stroking down his son’s back as he bit back a laugh. He knew any Cauldron fated mate of Lucien’s and sister to Nesta was surely somebody of interest to him, but Elain had yet to show anything Eris found to be interesting - until now.

“Did you just make a joke?”

“Yes.”

Eris nodded, wondering if he had underestimated his brother’s mate. The weight of the day had exhausted him, his bones begging for respite. Now that Atlas was in his arms once more, the tiny bundle so warm, his mind drifted to his bed where his mate currently laid. Your fate was still questionable - the healers were certain a full recovery was the most likely outcome, but when had the most likely outcome ever happened with Eris? Had he forged a life for himself only for it to be ripped away from him - the mother wanting him to know what happiness could be so he could feel its absence?

The air held a hint of awkwardness as they all stared at each other, Eris doing nothing to improve the warmth of the room. The two sisters filed out quickly, their voices directed toward Lucien as they left. The click of the door behind them was a beautiful symphony to Eris’s ears. To be alone with his son at last. It had only been twelve hours, but it was more like weeks had passed since he had seen Atlas’s small face, kissing his forehead goodbye. Nothing had felt off - no sense of anxiety overcame him, no fear for his family. Just annoyance and sadness at being away from them.

Eris gently cradled Atlas’s head as he made his way up the mattress, propping himself up against the headboard, back cushioned by pillows. His son had been restless in his arms when he took him from Elain, his little arms and legs trying to disturb the perfectly swaddled blanket around him.

The room had no windows and technically connected to his private chambers. When he was a boy, he had a full time nursemaid stay in here. Once he outgrew her, the space became his own private sanctuary. Many nights were spent hidden in this room, no concept of the passage of time as he poured over books, back curved in desperation to stay awake so he could finish it.

The shelves still lined the walls, but he had some of the furniture removed should his mate eventually want her own chambers.

His muscles ached less the longer he stayed still, and he softly piled up pillows on each side of him. Atlas was stirring in his arms, tiny coos that were endearingly pathetic. He broached a long finger close to Atlas, tiny hands wrapping around it as he settled back down. If he could, he’d strip his shirt to allow his son to rest on his skin, but thought better of it. The jostling would wake him for good, and he’d be doubly upset to know he was on someone’s chest who wasn’t his mother.

The sound of deep breaths was all that could be heard in the room as Eris used his magic to put out the lit candles littering every surface. The darkness of the shadows made his eyes heavier, but he fought to stay awake, not wanting to let his guard down.

“My beautiful son.” Hushed words filled the room, the warmth of his voice almost visible in the darkness. Atlas didn’t acknowledge the words, content in his slumber and being with his father. His body felt warm in Eris’s arms, Vanserra babies always running hot.

“I will always find you.” Outside the moon rose high in the air, the cold bringing a slight frost to Autumn. The midnight hour was one Eris made most of his best kept promises, all relating to the mate from the Night Court he found centuries ago. A tradition he unknowingly passed on to doing with his son. He was so pale, cheeks flaming pink.

Atlas didn’t know his father was High Lord or general of Autumn’s armies for centuries. He had yet to experience the parts of himself that Eris wanted to keep hidden. Eris’s eyes closed slowly, lulled by his son’s breathing, content to know that for now, his son only knew him as a father.

Eris startled awake, something prodding at his arm. A groan escaped his lips, his brother’s scent filling his nose enough to rouse him from slumber. He must have slept off the adrenaline, his heart rate a more regular rhythm.

“She’s asking for you.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Eris scolded before he shot up, nearly jumping off the bed.

Lucien rolled his eyes, Eris’s annoyance growing further at the action. “You had been awake for days, Eris. You needed the rest. Don’t they say to sleep when the baby sleeps?”

Eris ignored his brother as he remembered his last moments before he fell asleep.

“Where’s Atlas?”

“Cassian has him.” Eris shot his brother a glare.

“That’s not funny.” Lucien’s hand went up in defense. “Atlas is asleep on Cassian, and Elain and Feyre are with him if he wants any help.”

“When did you move him?”

Lucien shrugged. “An hour ago, maybe? You didn’t want to let go of him.”

Lucien’s words were nonchalant, an air of not knowing to them. Why would Eris ever let his son out of his arms again? He had already been exposed to the horrors that lay outside his father’s arms - he wouldn’t let it happen again. He left Lucien in the room, the hallway much quieter now. So much had happened in the past few days, and yet the halls of the Forest House were unchanged.

Eris stood outside the door, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. Heat danced at his fingertips, a small attempt at having any control over the situation.

Big, violet eyes looked back at him as he opened the door, something settling in his soul. His mate had a plethora of pillows behind her, each one working to prop her up to be sitting. Long black hair flowed around her, lacking its usual shine. The dark hair highlighted just how pale she looked, but life was slowly returning to her face. A blanket covered her lower half - for the best, perhaps. The tight lid he was holding on his rage was sure to give if he were to see her injuries.

“Hi, Er.” Your voice cracked with trepidation.

“How is the pain?” You looked down at your bandaged ankle, not moving it to check if the pain was still there. The wound only stopped pulsing with pain recently. Though you had been mostly unconscious, flashes of light and intense pain lingered in your memory.

He continued standing in front of the closed door, keeping his back to it. His eyes were focused on your face, watching every slight movement.

“It’s not so bad with the tonics Madja provided. She said the trap got to the bone of my ankle, so I should limit putting weight on it for a week.”

Eris nodded, the healer telling him much of the same. He had been trying to work through solutions to keeping his stubborn wife bedbound, not quite above shackling her to prevent further injury. A bassinette already sat next to their bed - maybe he could have it moved to his side so he could pick Atlas up and bring him to her.

Eris nodded, staying uncharacteristically quiet. His feelings were dulled in your chest, muffled by a blanket of privacy neither of you used before.

“Say it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He continued staying by the door, his tone growing slightly sharper. He was being petty and spiteful and you were having none of it.

“Tell me how you feel. You have never hidden your anger from me.”

“That is because I have never felt such anger at you.” The room was cloaked with Eris’ words, not quite stifling the roar of the fire. “I cannot lose you. Either of you.”

His words were soft, nearly a whisper, but the crackle of the fireplace gave hint to how deep the anger ran.

“I know.”

He kept speaking, not acknowledging your words.“You are far too precious to me. Please, don’t ever risk yourself to escape Rhysand.” His words surprised you, a new wave of guilt overcoming you. Your actions had been done out of anger, winnowing when you knew well enough you shouldn’t.

Everything could have ended so differently. And for what? To get back at your brother?

“Look at me.”

Eris had moved closer to the bed, as if his confession were a bridge that led him to you. His fingers moved slowly, gripping your chin. “There were a hundred better options, including asking the other bats to fly you home. Do not be so foolish with your life. With Atlas.”

Home. How that word had changed over the centuries. It was the cabin in Illyria, your mother and brother and sister inside, occasionally housing Cassian and Azriel. It was being four years old and scraping your knee and Rhys doing everything to dry your tears and make you laugh. It was flying with Cassian, determined to finally beat him in a race, chastisement over how knotted and wind whipped your hair had become.

And then it was Eris. Late night rendezvous turning into a permanent fixture. It was eating meals at the large, expansive table with two chairs right next to each other. Hounds lazing about the house, one practically laid out in every room in the massive dog beds you had insisted on. Warm colors making everything so vibrant.

And now it was Atlas. Two chairs soon becoming three. Two toothbrushes that would become three. A bassinet beside the bed. Teaching him everything he needed to know, his own neck unable to support the weight of his head.

Tears clouded your eyes at wholly dependent upon you he was and how you wholly failed him today.

“I was a fool. I- I could have gotten Atlas killed or taken. I am- I will never allow my anger to cloud my judgment when it comes to Atlas.”

“Or you.” It felt like a gentle caress through your chest, so many unspoken words in those two.

“Or myself.”

The words felt like a truce, like you had both arrived to some understanding. To further prove it, you gently patted the bed next to you, eager to feel more of your mate’s warmth. He climbed on the bed, sliding in next to you.

It was his preferred side to sleep - the left side, facing the door. It allowed him to come and go more easily without waking you, to keep himself between what laid in the world outside the confines of your marital bed.

Anger bubbled back up in your gut, remembering the bounty hunter’s wretched face, the immense delight she had found in your agony.

“Is she?”

“Dead? Yes.”

The confirmation did little to ease the panic inside. She had been so close to hurting Atlas, so close to selling him away. It was an anger you were certain you would carry until you died.

“My only regret is I didn’t do it myself.”

“Rest assured, my mate. I took care of it.”

You leaned into his side, your head resting in the crook of his neck. He laid above the blankets, his feet crossed at the ankle. He looked so prim and proper, it delighted you a bit.

“And Atlas?” His arm wrapped around you, his hand stroking your cheek lazily.

“He is safe with Lucien as we speak.”

“I don’t think anything’s safe with Lucien.”

His grip on your head was soft but firm, keeping you close to him. His thumb started moving on its own, his body so content to be next to yours once more.

“I thought-“

“I know.” And you had known. His panic was all you had felt before being rescued. It would have been easy to drown in it if it weren’t for the instinct to protect Atlas.

“But we are okay.”

But for how long?

“There’s a note on the side table.”

Eris had to change the subject, unwilling and unwanting to face his emotions head on. Your eyes moved to find Rhysand’s delicate penmanship on the fold of the paper, the letters of your name in grand, swooping movements of the pen.

“Can I see it?”

You could feasibly reach it, but your arms felt so heavy. Your body was still so tired, movement a burden to worn out muscles. He reached over you, careful not to lay his weight on you, keeping the paper folded as he handed it to you.

“You’re not going to peek at it?”

“It is your correspondence.”

You rubbed the paper through your fingers, not certain if you were ready to know its contents. You wanted to read this alone, not have Eris coloring your feelings.

“Can you bring Atlas in here? Madja said I can hold him.”

Eris nodded, slowly untangling himself before leaving. The click of the door prompted you to open the note, some small part of you wanting this to be between siblings. Hope had bloomed at the sight of the note - a ceasefire, maybe. Or maybe it would contain the tenderness Rhysand had so adamantly kept locked away the past few years.

Eris had been adamant his relationship with Lucien was his to navigate. He wanted Lucien to feel Eris deserved his company, not coming around because Lucien likes Eris’s mate.

And so this letter was yours. Rhysand was your brother. Any tenderness or ire or passive aggression from him is yours to decide what to do with.

The letter sat next to you, your mind lost in thought when Eris returned with the small bundle in his arms. Your chest lightened at the sight, the tight grip of anxiety around your heart lessening with every step Eris moved forward until your son was tucked back into your arms.

“And he’s okay?”

“Yes, he’s been looked over at least a dozen times by now. His worst injury is a scrape on his arm that has already healed.”

You gazed down at the impossibly tiny thing in your arms, taking in the features of his smooth, pale face. He was beautiful and he was yours.

“I am sure the extent of his injuries is in no small part due to your quick thinking.”

“Eris-“

“You are littered in cuts and scrapes, bruises everywhere. Do not think I can’t be both angry and proud of you at once.”

You preened a bit at the compliment, your mate’s pride in you always making your heart swell. “And if I did risk injury to myself for him?”

“Then you’d be the female the Mother mated me to, the one I had sworn myself to so long ago.”

It was quiet, two pairs of eyes looking down at the young boy between them. He was so small, so unaware of the danger that had surrounded him for several hours. To him the afternoon was different and scary in a new way: utter exhaustion had left her unable to stop her emotions from spreading and he felt his mother’s fear bubble in his belly.

“I haven’t seen such injuries on you in so long.” Centuries ago, the blonde male had dropped off the Night Court princess in Autumn, her beautiful wings haphazardly cut off. The outpour of blood seemed endless, Eris not knowing how you still had any left. He could still smell the blood and vomit, the scent had stuck to his walls for years to come.

“It would be the greatest disservice for Atlas to not know his mother.” Eris couldn’t say more, couldn’t verbalize the fear that was easing off his chest. It would gut him to not have anyone to share Atlas growing up with. He would go on without you for Atlas, but he wouldn’t be the same. How much pain can one bare before it consumes you whole?

The room was silent, the small family huddled together, enjoying their reunion. Warmth radiated around the room as two sets of eyes watched Atlas smile.

A soft knock at the door woke you from the sleep you had dozed off into. You were alone - Eris’s scent still lingered, likely having left not even ten minutes ago. You took a deep breath, feeling around in your chest for him. All that was found at the rope that tethered you to him was a sense of calm and pride. He was definitely with Atlas, hopefully eating a meal as he cradled his son to his chest.

“Come in.”

The door opened, your brother’s head popping in through the door. Rhysand looked so out of place here in Autumn. His violet eyes screamed ‘wrong’ as he stood out from the background. You had the same eyes as him, but they seemed wrong here.

He kept his head low as he walked in, varying degrees of guilt and shame pouring off of him. The magic inside of you was slow to return, but Rhysand’s emotions wouldn’t be a mystery without them.

“Hello.”

“How cordial of you.”

“Well, when in Autumn.” He shifted on his feet, taking your silence for confusion. “Historically Autumn is a much more proper court than Night.”

An awkward tang filled your mouth with each word. “I am aware.”

The two of you looked at each other, the silence in the room settling over the siblings. So far from their younger selves, so many atrocities laid between them. An observer would think they were strangers from the odd tension in the room.

Speaking was the hardest either had done.

“I am sorry.” His words were slow and deliberate, emphasizing each syllable to truly show he meant it. His shoulders hunched slightly, Cassian’s words from an earlier conversation swirling through his head.

We’d expect that kind of treatment from your father.

“When was the last time you said that to me?” Rhys was never good at apologies - every one had been followed up with “but-“. It would have been more sincere for him to apologize for his actions hurting your feelings.

“Far too long.”

Silence. You waited, wanting more from him. You were tired of fighting with him, a constant battle for choices already made, each party wanting to be the victor. It was exhausting and with a new babe, something had to give.

“Rhys, this is my life, whether you like it or not. I can’t- I’m not playing games with you anymore. I don’t care if you like Eris or not, but you have to believe I can make my own decisions. You have to trust me.” Your earlier words seemed to finally get through to your brother, his shoulders slumping in some form of concession. “I can’t keep doing this merry go round of things seeming to be better just to blow up again.”

“I do trust you.”

“Do you?” The question flew from your mouth without thinking. “I kept this a secret for a century, Rhys, because you reacted exactly how I expected you to. You don’t - you used to trust me, let me make my own choices, but since that night you haven’t.”

You were growing wearisome from this argument, the fight draining you of what little energy was left. You pointed to the water cup on the nightstand, Rhys picking it up and giving it to you. He hovered next to you, staying at your bedside.

“I am sorry that I made you feel like I don’t trust you.” The water helped ease the slight headache that was building, and gave you something to do while you took a moment to think on Rhysand’s words.

“Do you?”

“Of course I do.” His voice broke as he spoke, a desperation lacing his words. “But how can I trust anyone else to care for you? How could I live with myself if I let you be with him only for him to hurt you?”

“He’s a good male, Rhys.”

“I want you safe. I want what’s best for you.”

“And he is. If I told you Feyre was no good for you, what would you do?” He quickly looked away, proving you right. His hand tugged at his hair, an action he hardly ever did.

“I was scared. When Eris came in and you were missing, I was scared. Cassian had to talk me down from blowing up the entirety of the Middle.”

The truth finally came from him. Every discussion, every argument, all Rhys would talk about was his anger, the betrayal. He kept his emotions so tight to his chest, they were suffocating him. You kept quiet, letting him continue.

“I was scared that it finally was happening. That another court was finally going to finish what Spring had started. I thought Eris had done this somehow, wanting us to discover his deeds. Wanting to basque in the glory of getting the upper hand over me.” He breathed in deeply through his nose, his hands shaking as he brought them to his face. Unshed tears lined his violet eyes, the depths of sadness keeping your gaze. “But it was me who led you to danger. It was me who couldn't keep you safe.”

A sob tore through him, the sound of the last wall between the two of you collapsing. You moved over on the bed, allowing space for Rhys before patting the bed. He stood before sitting on the edge of the bed, toeing off his shoes, and laying next to you. You leaned your head on his shoulder as he draped his arms around you, clinging tight.

He clung to you as he sobbed into your shoulder, your own tears falling on top of his head. How had things become so twisted? How had your relationship crumpled this much?

The High Lord’s embrace allowed the emotions of the day to crash into you, clutching his shirt tight in your fingers. The soft silk was such a contrast to the pain in your chest.

Rhysand was your brother, the only person alive who loved you before you were born. He didn’t have to know you to love you.

Rhys had always told you he loved you before you were born, something you had never grasped until Atlas. Seeing something so small and tiny and knowing you would go to the ends of the planet to help them.

“You didn’t get to meet Atlas.”

He stayed in your arms, a less than dignified sniffle coming from him. When was the last time you had seen Rhysand cry? Those nights he would find you in Feyre’s absence when she was in Spring, letting you soothe him to sleep? Or was it when Nyx was born and Feyre nearly died?

“Do I even deserve to at this point?”

The two of you were the sole survivors of a noble family. An entire family gone in one night. You leaned further into him, nose pressed against his bicep. He was warm, the citrusy scent coming off him made so many memories flash through your mind: learning to fly, lounging in his study as he worked, intense chess matches that left everyone mad. Centuries of baggage laid in the space between the two of you.

The second part of his scent was the soft undertone of sea salt that always reminded you of home. Your mother smelled like sea salt and caramel, a scent that always made your mouth water for sweets and feel safe. She was gone, had been for so long your memories of her were blurry from use, but so much of her lay in the male next to you.

There was no way back to her or the rest of your family, gone for centuries now, memories so replayed they were memories of memories by now. But you still thought of them often. You were thinking of your mother when you spoke once more, thinking of the excitement Rhys had to finally have a little sister.

“Yes, you do.”

Author’s note: AHHHHHHH wasn’t that great ❤️

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Thanks for reading ❣️

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lovelykhaleesiii · 6 months ago

Note

Can I request a smutty fic for Aemond, please? The base idea I had is that he's been at war for a while and finally reunites with his wife, so it's quite passionate. I leave the finer details to your expertise ♡

Sacrifices with Intimacy

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x Wife!fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,805.

WARNINGS: p in v sexual intercourse, female oral receiving, praise kink, breeding kink, swearing.

A/N - haven't written for Aemond in a long while, so forgive me if this is trash! sorry about the long wait, Ez. I hope you genuinely enjoy this! all this new content for Aem/Ewan is stirring some deep feelings! thanks for being so patient and kind.

The toils of this war had felt like an eternity, and undeniably, you had missed your beloved husband dearly...

Aemond Targaryen, the second son of King Viserys Targaryen and Alicent Hightower: your betrothed and in eager time, your doting husband, was called at arms to fight the war in the name and honour of his elder brother, the King now, Aegon II. Aemond expressed no hesitation to act in defence, even if this meant sacrificing sacred time with you. As much as his reasons were to defend the honour and dignity of his family, he fought in battle with intent of smothering all grounds of harm towards you by all means. He thoroughly intended to vanquish any potential enemy or ounce of threat, kin alike, if it meant that you live a life free from suffering.

A sacrifice needed to fulfil this meant his prolonged absence in your life. An absence felt too deeply indeed, like an open gash, exposed to the natural chill of the air. Until the familiar, thunderous roars and bellowing gush of winds roared across the daylight, roars and wings that could only belong to one great dragon...Vhagar.

"My beloved—"

"Aem!"

An embrace long overdue, like no other. Against your body, Aemond's hold felt constricting yet oddly comforting, pressing you as deep against his slim physique as possible.

"You've returned sooner than I'd anticipated—"

"Do you not wish me to be here, my dearest? Has my early return not pleased you so?" He huskily murmurs, his voice deep: warming your heart so, as it had been so long since you'd heard the familiar tone. A deep chuckle echoing to your ears, as you nuzzle against his neck, longingly inhaling his musky scent.

"Well now that you're here, I may never let you go again—," You faintly whisper, enough only for Aemond's ears, as the dragon-keepers urgently tend to the monstrous Vhagar.

"Have your duties in Harrenhall come to a close? Need you take your place now here in King's Landing?"

"For the time being, my beloved. For the foreseeable future, I am to remain here... Rightfully beside you."

Despite all fruitless attempts of his Grandsire, the Hand, and the Dowager Queen, Alicent Hightower, urging Aemond to attend council meetings to arrange further battle plans and to discuss progress: Aemond remained solidly adamant in his stance.

"I've sacrificed enough of my time fighting this war in the name of this family. An evening to spare with my wife, I should warrant at the very least."

He was to spend the entirety of the evening, every passing hour, minute and seconds with you, soaking each other up to make amends for such deficiencies.

Your bare bodies entwined against each other, feeling the heat radiating from his muscular body.

"You've grown leaner, my love... Are they not feeding their troops?"

His calloused hands take their sweet, precious time lightly tracing over the curves of your naked body: scoring goosebumps to course over your soft skin where he had hovered. His touch had become alien to you now, and yet you craved for him to never let go.

"They feed us, although not well enough... And not for the delicacies that I desire," his lowly voice made your eager ears prick up, excited to hear his every word, to listen to him speak mindlessly for hours on end. A growl etched as his good eye lingered over your calm, sensual figure.

Slowly, you kneel yourself up over towards him, straddling his chest: his rough hands gripping the outer flesh of your tender thighs, squeezing and tapping at the meat, nudging for you to move up closer towards him. A sly smirk stricken across his handsome face, a face now masked with lingering yet subtle scratches and marks, proof of his succession in battles. Your finger lightly tracing over their lightning-like marks, gently until reaching the infamous sapphire eye.

"Do you still find me handsome as the day we wed?"

"Always, Aem—”

"Do you still want your husband to eat that pretty cunt of yours out? Been craving for me, silly princess, even if you deny it... I can feel you throbbing against me now."

Now knelt, hovering ever so closely to his face, you slowly sink yourself down, feeling your cheeks now well rested comfortably against his broad shoulders. His ravenous tongue spared no second plunging itself into your walls, as his lips curled and lapped at your moist entrance.

"Hmm—" A deep, penetrating sound vibrating from his lips against yours, you felt your dead weight plunge deeper, the walls of your silky cunt feeling tight and tickly against his guzzling mouth. You felt your body bobbing subtly up and down, in sync with his heaving chest, as his breaths grew deeper and denser.

"My husband, the saviour of the Seven Kingdoms... A-And I have h-him a-at my beck and call, b-beneath me."

Breathless and exhilarated, your wetness stimulating beneath you, sensing just how drenched your inner thighs feel. Intertwining your fingers with Aemond's, releasing his firm grip from your thighs, guiding his large hands up over your hips and waist, planting his palms against each breast.

"Miss these, baby? Cause they've missed you... M-Maybe if you f-fill me up, these can get f-fuller, huh? D-Does that s-sound good?"

Earning another deep, muffled "hmm", his calloused, large hands kneading at your breasts, squeezing at the tender flesh in the cup of his palm. A teasing thumb, flicking at your perky nipple, earning a rapid moan. Sensually feeling you up, his precise movements and gestures receptive to your body: as though he had never left, not a day behind. Your mindless body now succumbed to his every move, a stirring feeling in the pit of your stomach desperate for more, it seemed as though Aemond could read your very mind subconsciously.

Nudging you to move down, released from your trance, his breathing heavy yet gradually began to compose itself. A slick, clear film saturated his reddened lips and mouth, although wasting no precious he lapped that up too, savouring your taste.

"Ask and you shall receive, my spoilt, little princess... Lay down."

Despite Aemond having done most of the work, drowning in his prized possession, the sensitive spot between your legs felt achingly weak though desperate to have more of its fill.

"Now let's see if my angel can still handle this cock, huh? You cannot even begin to fathom, ugh—"

Towering build over you, as he adjusted his position over you, you felt meek and feeble against him, yet wanted nothing more than for him to devour you whole.

"Just how fucking much, I've been waiting for this precise moment... To feel your walls swallow my cock, huh? Fill you so full and good of my seed."

His long cock had grown stiff since the moment you'd removed the last single piece of cloth, torn from your body. Feeling his tense, sprung member against every crevice and naked surface of your body was painstakingly feverish: like some taboo toy you had been separated from, eager to play with once again. Its veiny, blush tip tauntingly traced lightly at your entrance, etching deeper and deeper with each breathless word spoken, and every moan whimpered, until his mass was completely plunged into your velvety vanity.

"Seven Hells— Forgotten just how tight you were, baby. I can feel you clenching, missed me that terribly, hmm? Poor thing... Must've been going crazy without me."

"Y-Yes, A-Aem— Y-You have no idea."

Aemond was more often precise and cautious when it came to sex: his movements and pace often calculated and deliberate although a different side completely showed itself now. You had to give him praise. It had been far too long, especially for newlyweds since you had both been last intimate. He was desperate for you, just as much as you had. He had grown impatient now, yearning to be with you, to be inside of you: keen to take his please with you in this very moment, for who knows when he could be next called upon and needed, only to disappear once again.

"That's my good, good girl... Always doing so well for me, having waited so long for me. Deserving of all my special treatment—"

His harsh thrusts were formidable enough to sway you as you lay still. Aemond gripped tightly at your wrists, keeping you and himself steady. His breathing once again resumed a faster, more grunted pace, as his thrusts grew careless. Only having the one goal to fuck you senselessly full of him.

"Mayhaps I'll fuck a babe into you, princess... Does that sound good? Leave a part of me inside of you to grow and to hold."

"Ughh— Yes, Aemond. Fuck me full. F-Fuck me till I s-swell, b-baby."

"Your commands, princess," A breathless grunt uttered after each word bespoken. His once straightened, neat loose strands, now a mottled, sweaty mess of platinum locked, strangling against your fingers, as you keenly relished in pulling and tugging at.

Whenever he was close enough, your lips suckled onto his fair, pale skin of his chest and neck, leaving remnant, red marks shaped vaguely of your plump lips. The fury of the pain from between your inner thighs was undeniable, for it had been so long since you laid with your husband. Your walls at first foreign to the excruciating stretch, as his long, rigid cock plummeted and burrowed its way into your cervix.

The long-awaited high was surreal, Aemond taking his pleasure in shooting his warm, fresh load deep into you, as you felt your unison wetness coating him. The mess seeping through the gaps. He remained nestled inside until he felt sated that you had taken his seed.

Embraced in each other's loving arms, the beauty in the intimacy with Aemond was that it never ceased with the sex. He often took pride and initiative in taking care of you even after, an old habit that seemed he did not forget so easily...

"I'll have the maid prepare a warm bath my dearest, in the meantime you stay in bed."

Hastily wiping the sweat off, dressing himself once more, only managing to don his trousers, he seated himself down beside you again.

"You mustn't feel haste to care for me, Aem. You were the one that went to war... You must rest now."

His longer fingers reached out, soothingly brushing aside the loose strands of hair, away from your beaming face. Instinctively, a warm smile radiating from his face, as he seized your presence.

"I shall rest when you are safe. It is my duty as your husband to protect you, and as your lover, to love you. Those vows I spoke many moons ago, I have not yet forgotten, nor will I. Everything I do, I do for us... I love you."

general taglist - @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1

Aemond taglist - @megatardisbaby @harrypotteranna23-blog

credit for divider - @/pommecita

#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #alicent hightower #otto hightower #vhagar

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newobsessionweekly · 5 months ago

Text

One Rule Down

Part 2 of The rules are made to be broken series (18+)

part 1 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x female!TO!reader

Fandom: The Rookie

Warnings: NFSW, explicit sexual content. 18+, mentions of blood, shooting, GSW, pain, r being shot, not proofread yet.

Summary: Tim breaks one rule after you got hurt on a call.

Smut A/N: def not the fic I had in mind to post. I seriously forgot abt this series and I loved writing it. Still in my break, but found this in my drafts and I said why not. @senjoritanana thanks for reminding me of this series ✨

Requested: no Words: 1.9k GIF not mine, credits to the owner!

The radio crackled to life with the urgent call—a report of a disturbance at a convenience store on the outskirts of the city. Without hesitation, you and your rookie sprang into action, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you raced toward the scene.

Arriving at the store, you were met with chaos. Shattered glass littered the pavement, and panicked screams filled the air as bystanders fled in all directions. Nolan took cover behind the shop, scanning the area for any sign of danger, while you positioned yourself nearby, ready to support him at a moment's notice.

"LAPD! Drop your weapons!" you demanded, but the only response was something far away from cooperation.

A group of armed men emerging from the store, their faces obscured by masks as they brandished weapons with lethal intent. You're outnumbered, you thought to yourself.

"7-Adam-15, requesting backup at the 6077 W 3rd street. Eight armed men, no sight of cooperation." you radioed, watching over Nolan's.

You nodded your head, silently telling him backup is on its way and to proceed only if necessary before help arrives.

But before you could even react, a figure emerged behind Nolan, a weapon glinting in their hand. Instinct took over as you lunged forward, pushing Nolan out of harm's way just as the gunman opened fire.

As you moved to shield Nolan from an oncoming barrage of bullets, a searing pain ripped through your side, causing you to stumble backward with a cry of agony. Blood stained your uniform as you collapsed to the ground, your vision swimming with pain and adrenaline.

Pain exploded through your body as the bullet struck true, sending you crashing to the ground in a heap. The world spun around you as you struggled to catch your breath, the taste of copper lingering on your tongue as darkness threatened to consume you.

"7-Adam-15, requesting backup and R/A to my location, officer down!" you heard Nolan's voice crackle over the radio, his words a distant echo in your ears as you fought to stay conscious. "I repeat, officer down!" Through blurred vision, you watched as Nolan returned fire, his movements swift and precise as he engaged the gunman in a fierce firefight.

But as the minutes dragged on, your strength waned, your vision growing dimmer with each passing moment. The pain was unbearable, a searing heat that radiated through your body, but still, you refused to give up.

With every ounce of strength you could muster, you reached for your radio, your fingers trembling as you struggled to make contact with dispatch. "Backup… R/A… officer down," you managed to choke out, your voice barely a whisper as darkness threatened to claim you.

As Officer Bradford heard Nolan's panicked voice crackling over the radio, a cold chill ran down his spine, sending shivers of fear coursing through his veins. Without a moment's hesitation, he knew something was terribly wrong with you, and he couldn't bear the thought of you in danger.

Ignoring all protocol and the rules you both agreed upon, Tim threw caution to the wind and bolted into action, his heart pounding in his chest as he raced through the streets of Los Angeles to get to you. Beside him, Lucy Chen clung to her seat, her eyes wide with concern as she tried to keep up with Tim's breakneck speed.

"Backup… R/A… officer down," your voice echoed through the radio, broken and shattered as his heart sank, tightening the grip on the steering wheel.

Arriving at the scene, Tim didn't even bother assessing the situation—he simply rushed to your side, his heart in his throat as he took in the sight of you lying on the ground, blood pooling beneath you. Panic gripped him like a vice as he knelt beside you, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch your face, his touch gentle yet urgent.

"Hey, hey, Y/N, can you hear me?" Tim's voice was hoarse with emotion, his eyes scanning your pale face for any sign of consciousness. "Hang in there, okay? Help is on the way."

It's been months since you both agreed to those rules and everything was by the book. You were seeing Tim almost every night, finding solace in each other's arms, pleasure blooming between you.

Despite his efforts to remain composed, Tim's façade of strength crumbled in the face of your injuries, his hands shaking as he applied pressure to your wound, his mind racing with a million different fears and possibilities. He knew he had broken the rule you both agreed upon, but in that moment, all he could think about was you—your safety, your well-being, your life hanging in the balance.

As the minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly, Tim's anxiety only grew, his heart hammering in his chest as he prayed for the sound of approaching sirens. He didn't care about the suspects still at large or the chaos unfolding around him—all that mattered was you, lying there before him, fighting for your life.

He had broken the cardinal rule, the one about not letting your personal lives disturb your professional duties. And in doing so, he had shattered the fragile balance you had worked so hard to maintain.

Yet, amidst the turmoil of your emotions, there was a part of you that couldn't help but feel grateful for Tim's presence by your side. Despite his gruff exterior and tendency to push people away, he had rushed to your aid without a moment's hesitation, his concern and fear evident in every word and gesture.

As for Tim, he couldn't shake the sense of guilt that weighed heavily on his shoulders. He had broken the rules, betrayed the trust of the one person who meant more to him than he cared to admit. He cursed himself for allowing his emotions to cloud his judgment, as he reached out to take your hand in his, a silent vow formed in Tim's heart: no matter what the future held, he would do everything in his power to protect you and keep you safe, even if it meant breaking the rules one more time.

The front door opened with a loud noise, drifting you off sleep. Tangled in your sheets, enjoying the silence of some time away from the chaos, it was your last night before you're back on duty.

You haven't heard from Tim since you were shot. After a short visit from him while you were in hospital, too drugged to process what happened, you were left with a buzzing phone, messages from Nolan and Lucy making your days pass agonizingly slow.

There he was today, holding some takeaway in one hand, blocking the light from the hallway penetrate your bedroom. He was tall and imposing, wearing the uniform that made him look like a Greek God.

You didn't make a sound, waiting for him to make the first move "Bought you some food."

He motioned to the bags in his hand as you secretly thanked him. John and Lucy took shifts to drop by your house and bring you something to eat, especially in the first days, when it was impossible for you to move more than ten steps without cursing between your teeth and question the day you decided to become a cop. You don't regret it, but for your safety it was better if you would've chosen another path.

"Thank you," you replied to him, as you tried to maintain a serious expression. You tried to make things as easier as they were, not showing any signs of your feelings, but it was in vain.

Things weren't going to be back as how they were before Tim broke that rule. It wasn't just about the rules, it was about the consequences of his actions, leaving two rookies to handle a situation way out of their league as he rushed to your side, those dangerous men almost slipping away.

Neither of you didn't say a word as you finished the food. He knew he messed up, and it was funnier than it should've been. Tim was the one who came up with those fucking rules and he was the one breaking them. You did it yourself, officer.

Before you could process, you found yourself swirling your tongue around his in a desperate desire. Tim wasn't far behind you, catching up immediately the rhythm of your movements, not backing up any second. He needed this more than he wanted to admit. He needed your touch. He needed to touch you and make sure you're okay.

Keeping his distance in a moment he knew you wished someone to be there by your side, was killing him. But it was necessary, since both of you started to drift off from the rules. And Tim always goes by book. Well, with some exceptions that happen to include you.

Longing for his touch, for him helping you feel anything but pain, decided to get rid of your clothes as quickly as you could. You needed to feel him inside you, to make you whole again.

He was moving painfully slow, memorizing every inch of your skin. You let him guide the rhythm, as you enjoyed his hands on your body, driving you crazy with every kiss placed on your skin. You run your fingers lightly down his body, feeling his boner pressing hard on you.

You wanted him inside you, you wanted to feel him and forget about everything that happened. He traced the shape of your wound, as he teased your nipples slowly, leaving warm marks on them.

"Damn, you are so perfect." he breathed, enjoying the sight of your curves embraced by the warm light laying over them. All of your scars are visible, letting both of you vulnerable. But it didn't stop you.

He cupped your cheeks, pressing his forehead against yours as he closed the distance separating you, making you escape a loud moan of desire that you were holding for too long.

Both your bodies were filled with a warm wetness as he moved slowly inside you, like he didn't want to cause you any more pain. His kisses were sweet and tender, caressing your body as his movements drove you crazy any second. Something in his movements changed, being more gentle, like he didn't want it to stop.

Something in his motion made you wonder if it has to do with his fear of losing you, the same fear that clouded his mind the other days.

The rhythm became more chaotic and intense as you threw your head back into the pillows, tugging on the sheets as pleasure exploded between you in synchrony. Digging your fingers into Tim's shoulders as you locked his gaze, the climax was approached with a sudden burst of energy, making your bodies shake uncontrollably as he was buried deep inside.

After the moment consumed, you thought he'd disappear into the night so suddenly as his arrival. But he didn't, he hold you close, afraid if he'd let go of you, he'll never see you again.

He couldn't understand his feelings, why he desperately wanted to make sure you're okay. You're a grown up woman who can take care of yourself, but still he was there afraid he can't protect you. And he wanted to be able to protect you. In none of the rules wasn't specified that you are not allowed to care for each other, and he placed his care into the professional relationship. But it was far from the truth.

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heart-of-the-morningstar · 3 months ago

Text

Human Reader x Angel!Lucifer: First Preview

Hello friends, I'm alive!!! I am posting this as proof I am working on this fic! I know it's been a hot minute and I have pretty much the entire story laid out in my head, it's just getting it all down that's the hardest part. I hope this preview satiates you guys for just a little bit; I love all of you and thank you for being so patient! <3

Also no active warnings for this part!

"Fine! Go ahead and run! See how far that fucking gets you!" you heard Adam shout after you as you took off into the dense forest.

You couldn’t stand to be around him anymore. The person who you were made for, the one who you were supposed to be equal with, was a vile and despicable human. Always trying to tell you what to do, how to act, what to say, it was too much to handle anymore. You pushed through the thick foliage of the garden, unaware of how long you’ve been running. After some time, you came to an opening. A beautiful crystal lake stretched across the land surrounded by large trees filled with all different sorts of fruits. It looked like a paradise, but in your sorrow you couldn’t find the beauty in any of it. You collapsed, sitting on top of a nearby rock, and you sobbed. You buried your face in your hands and brought your legs to your chest. You were alone and you felt like there was no escaping the life given to you.

But you weren’t alone for long.

“Beautiful creature, why do you cry?” a soothing voice said.

Your breath caught in your thought at the sound of this voice. It wasn’t Adam’s. You lifted your head but saw no one around you. Until you noticed you had somehow been enveloped in shadow. You raised your head further and some something, or rather someone, floating just above you, their enormous wings stretched out, shading you from the bright sun. You gasped; your body screamed at you to run but your mind refused to move a muscle.

“Do not be afraid,” the being spoke softly, “I mean you no harm.”

You gulped, clutching your legs to your chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible. “Who…who are you?”

The spirit landed on the grass below and smiled brightly. “I am the light bringer, the morning star for the heavens above,” he answered, outstretching his hand. “But you can call me Lucifer.”

An angel, you thought to yourself. You gazed at his hand hesitantly and wiped the remaining tears from your face in an attempt to gain composer. “Did Heaven send you here, Lucifer?”

“Well, not exactly,” he admitted, pulling his hand away and rubbing the back of his neck. “In all honesty, I shouldn’t even be here.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Then why are you?”

Lucifer sighed and looked away from you. “I…I’m not sure. This place, this garden, it’s enchanting! But I was denied any say in how it should be…” You saw how resigned the angel was as he spoke to you. A pang of sadness stung your chest. “Heaven was not happy with any of the ideas I provided them. They never are. I just…wanted to see it for myself. But then, I saw you running, and I saw you crying. I couldn’t stand to see you filled with such pain.” He held out his hand once more. “Please, tell me what troubles you. Perhaps I could help.”

You took a closer look at the angel. His sapphire eyes were enchanting, it seemed almost impossible to look away. And his pale complexion very much stood out in the garden overrun with an abundance of different colors. You glanced at his enormous wings, white and gold in color, and how they perfectly complimented the rays of the sun that shows through the tree branches.

He was the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

Tentatively, you took a hold of his hand as he helped you up from the rock you were perched on. You were about to speak, but then Lucifer quickly let go of your hand.

"A-AH!" the angel squeaked as he stumbled backwards, tripping in the process and landing on the soft grass below. He quickly covered his face and shifted his body so he was no longer facing you.

"Lucifer, what's the matter?" you asked as you stood there puzzled.

"Oh! Umm...nothing! Nothing's wrong!" he answered quickly. "I...I forgot that when heaven created you, they left you...bare."

You tilted your head in confusion. "Bare? I don't understand." Without answering, you watched as Lucifer flicked his wrist, his eyes still avoiding yours. All of a sudden, you felt your body becoming wrapped in whatever Lucifer had just summoned for you. You looked down and realized that most of your skin had been covered in a foreign material that you have not encountered before. A part of it hung over your shoulder while the other was left untouched. It was draped down just past your knees. "What is this?" you questioned as you reached down to feel the white cloth. It was unbelievably soft and light, almost as if you didn't have anything on your body at all.

Lucifer peaked through his hands; you heard him sign in relief. He stood up and brushed the dirt of his robe before returning to your side. "Forgive me," he started, "that was a bit of an...overreaction. I'm sorry if I startled you!"

"It's alright, Lucifer," you smiled at him. "I'm still a bit confused though, what is this for? Was there something wrong with my appearance?"

Lucifer's eyes widened. "Oh gosh, no no no! Of course not! You're perfect! WAIT! I mean you look perfect! GAH NO! I uhh...it's...it's a gift! Yeah, that's it! It's a gift for you!"

"A gift?" You couldn't help but smile. "Adam has never given me a gift..."

You saw Lucifer frown as he took ahold of your hand once more. "I'm sorry to hear that, my flower. Here, follow me." Lucifer guided you to the lake's edge and knelt down, signaling you to join him. You did as he asked and fell to your knees in front of him. "Now tell me, why had you run away?"

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer smut #my writing #preview #it's on it's way i promise!

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stillnotyourmusebitch · 8 months ago

Note

Feel free to ignore! Sinner!Adam x GN!Reader where Adam sucks up his pride, goes to the hotel, and although practically nobody wants him there, Charlie gives him a chance for redemption and puts Reader in charge of watching over him and helping him adjust because they were mostly neutral with him. So maybe just some moments of them bonding and actually becoming close?

OH MY GODS!!! I am so sorry this took me so damn long. I really wanted to make this fic the best it could be. I really hope you like it. Again I feel like I might have slighlty strayed for the prompt but I really do hope it is what you wanted Nonnie

The small things - Sinner!Adam x GN!reader

Warnings Angst-Hurt/comfort-fluff

When Adam woke up in a shit stained back alley of Hell, oh how he screamed an extremely blasphemous bloody murder for hours upon hours upon . . . well you get the idea. The other demons that happened to be walking past carried on by unphased. Yes, some did take a sneak peek of the newly fallen angel throwing a massive child-like tantrum, but most didn’t give a rat’s ass about what he was going through. This is Hell after all, everybody’s got problems.

Adam finally calmed down enough to crawl out of the rancid gutter. It took a moment for him to gain his bearings, seeming to have found himself in the pride ring. Which meant he was in the same rung of hell as that fucking hotel. Whoever's idea of this sick fucking joke was going to get ripped a new one. He shouldn’t be here. Why was he here?

He doesn’t remember walking but soon he found himself in front of the shadow of a much larger and grander looking Hazbin Hotel.

He seemed to snap back to himself. Why the fuck did he subconsciously walk to the threshold of the one place that would most likely give him his second death on the spot? But that doesn’t stop him from raising a fist and knocking obnoxiously loud. He’d been in Hell for all of about 5 hours now and it was hard to tell what time of day it was down here without a watch. He didn’t have jack shit on him when he woke up, just a grubby, ripped up pair of sweats.

The door finally opened up to Lucifer’s yawning brat. Her eyes went wide seeing him there.

“Adam?” She was more confused than he had been as to why he was down here, let alone in demon form. “What. What are you doing here? I mean you’re, you, but you’re not. I mean why are you . . .” Charlie stumbled over her words.

Vaggie arrived behind her while she was stammering. It took a split second for her to knock him on his ass, her angelic spear aimed at his throat.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t end your worthless life again right here and now.” She growled out.

“Hey, Woah now. I mean no harm this time honest. I’m just as confused as you are as to why the fuck I ended up here but I have nowhere else to go and . . .” Adam shuffled further away for the spear’s tip.

“Vaggie stop. Let’s just talk about this.” Charlie tried to shimmy in front of her girlfriend. “I know he is the main reason for so many very bad things but we need to take a breather. Look, it’s 3am and we won’t be thinking straight at a time like this. So let’s put a pin in this extremely weird conversation for now. We can put him up in a room on the second floor and then take this all from the top in the morning.”

“I don’t know about this.” Vaggie side eyes Adam but he can see her very slowly caving to Charlie. “UGH! Fine. He can stay for one night. Just one but as soon as we figure out what is going on he is out on his ass.”

Charlie squeezes her partner in a tight hug before turning and holding out a hand towards Adam. He glares at it for a moment before grabbing it. She hauls him back to his feet and shows him inside. His eyes flick all around the lobby area, clocking a bar on the far left, the elevators to the right and of course a grand staircase up to the first floor. He was shown to his room on the second floor. Charlie chose to take the elevator, Vaggie standing firmly in between them, her hands clenching around the shaft of her spear. Adam shuffled as far to the side as possible he knows about the short temper of his exorcists, even the ex-ones.

“Here we are 224.” She opened the door, flicking on the light switch and letting Adam walk in. “You’ll find towels in the bathroom and fresh sheets already on the bed. Just please wait until someone comes to collect you in the morning. Now get some sleep, lord knows we are gonna need it.” She said the last part more to herself as she left with Vaggie.

Adam let out a deflated sigh, he wasn’t sure that he would get any sleep, no matter how exhausted he felt. So, he went to look at the ensuite, maybe taking a shower would help put him in a sleepier state, true to her word clean red towels were waiting on the counter by the sink. Adam stripped and threw the grubby garments he’d had on into the corner of the room.

He turned the shower up high and climbed into the scolding spray. As the water rained down his body, only then did he see how his heavenly body had really changed into this disgusting new demonic form. Hatred bubbled beneath the surface of the dull grey-coloured skin, he scrubbed as hard as possible in a vain attempt to try and find the person he was under all this ‘fakery’. He still held onto the belief that this was an incredibly vivid nightmare and he was going to wake up safe and sound in his plush king-sized bed in heaven.

He can’t be a demon.

He wasn’t a sinner; he was a winner. This had to be all a lie. It just had to. He wanted to scream, cry or something. Everything was getting to be too much. Turning off the water he stepped out into the steam-filled room and stared at the large fogged over mirror above the sink. Adam knew when he wiped away the condensation he would see himself.

He knew he had to talk himself into looking at what he’d become.

‘Come on. You can do this. Stop being such a fuckin pussy.’

Slowly he raised his left hand and wiped at the mirror.

‘Fuck’

There staring back at him was his worst nightmare. Dark brown horns curled out of his skull through damp blackened hair clinging to his scalp. His skin now he looked closer It was really more of a short fur coating than human skin. His teeth were razor sharp and his tongue was yellow. He was slightly rounder than he was before, his feet were now coven hoofs. How he didn’t clock this fact before scared him slightly but the one thing that stuck out to him the most were his eyes. He blinked a few times but nothing changed.

He still had those golden irises that heaven gifted him.

Adam stood and stared.

He was an abomination. There was no removing this mask at the end of a long day.

Silent tears rolled down his cheeks. Shame gushing to the surface. He angrily swiped at the tears trying to stop them at the source. He was a man. They don’t cry or show emotion. They bottle it up inside or channel it into something else. Yet here was crying like a hormonal broad.

He blindly grabs for a towel, bunching it up in his dark clawed fingers and screaming into the fabric.

He let everything out. Screaming out all his hatred, pain and anguish until his throat hurt from the exertion. The towel got thrown into the corner. Switching the bathroom light off, he walked slowly over to the soft looking bed and crawled under the covers. He didn’t care that he hadn’t dried himself off properly, full body exhaustion had taken hold and he welcomed the dreamless sleep that often always followed.

----

When the knock came what felt like mere minutes after he had passed out. He slowly sat up in the bed, the covers pooling around his hips. He wiped the partially dried drool off his chin, blinking a few times before acknowledging the person knocking

“Whatduyawant?” he grumbled.

“You decent?” the voice behind the door was not one he recognised.

“Yeah sure, whatever.” He yawned and stretched out his back. The door opened and in walked a sinner that Adam definitely didn’t remember from the final battle at the old hotel. They held a clean pair of clothes and a small set of toiletries that was clearly for him.

“Afternoon. Charlie said to let you sleep in a bit.” You seemed completely unphased by the half-naked demon before you. “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” You stood at the end of the bed.

“Urm, good I guess.” Adam reaches out for the clothes you have.

“Well, good news is you ain’t getting thrown out just yet.” You drop the clothes into his hands and went to put the toiletries in the ensuite.

“And the bad news is?” He tugs on the clean pants. You turn and lean against the door frame. Your eyes flick up and down before smirking.

“Bad news is I’ve been stuck with babysitting your ass.” You push yourself off the frame with your hip. “So, I’m setting ground rules right here and now. You are only allowed to stay here if you play ball. Nobody wants to deal with your egotistical bullshit. So if you piss me off, I’ll go straight to Charlie. If you threaten anybody, I go straight to Vaggie and if you harass any of the other patrons. I will go and find Niffty because I’m sure she will be able to get her point across. Do you understand?” You stand tall with your arms crossed over your chest.

Adam is stunned by your strictness but finds himself nodding. Not trusting his words right now.

“Good. Now get yourself ready there is an activity planned for 3:15pm.” You walk away. “Oh and Adam. I want you to at least try okay?” You throw a soft smile back at him before leaving him to finish getting ready.

Adam sat on the edge of the bed staring at the closed door. Something inside him sparked briefly. He pulled on his shirt. ‘What the hell was that?’ He thought to himself.

-----

It had been 4 weeks since Adam had shown up at the hotel despite this stupid buddy system that Charlie had in place. Adam was kinda glad he was stuck with you. Something about your snarky attitude, the fact you always called him out when he brags about being who he was before but most of all the very rare soft acts of kindness towards him.

He didn’t realise it yet but you actually made him want to do better. He wants to be better and if that gave him a chance of gaining his wings back then he was sure as hell gonna try.

Adam hadn’t realised that he was doing good deeds at first. But seeing Charlie beam brightly when he would raise a hand before talking in the group sessions or the way he held the door for other patrons before heading off to do what he pleased.

Adam was really trying. But you knew that if you brought it up he would immediately call bullshit. Then would act out just to reclaim his cool guy image.

“Hey wait up,” Adam called out as the elevator doors started sliding shut. You held out a hand reopening the doors so he could hop in and ride up to the second floor with you. “Thanks.” He leans against the back wall. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He handed you a bag with something wrapped up in a lot of toilet paper.

“Gee, thanks.” The look on your face made Adam laugh.

“It’s not whatcha think it is. Just a little something to thank you for putting up with my miserable ass.” The Elevator chimed on the second floor. “After you.” He let you walk out first before following. “Are you gonna open it?”

The look on his face was a mix of excitement and worry. You decided to humour him. Reaching in you grabbed the poorly wrapped gift. He took the bag off you so you could peel off the wads of toilet paper.

It was a coffee mug.

“Since I accidently broke your favourite mug a few days ago. I thought I should get you a replacement.” His fingers crumpled the handles of the bag as he waited for any sort of reaction to the gift.

You turned the mug over to see the words on the side better.

‘I work with absolute legends’ was written on the side surrounded by little black stars. Your thumb traced a star or two. Still staring at the present in hand you felt a smile tug at the corners of your lips.

Not knowing how else to thank him. You rushed forward and embraced him tightly. Making sure not to drop your present.

“I take it you like it?” He drops the bag and folds his arms around you.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You rested your forehead against his shoulder. Neither one of you is willing to break the hug first.

“I had to do something. You looked so sad when I broke it. That didn’t sit right with me. Charlie explained that I was feeling guilt and . . .”

You pull away slightly to look at him.

“Adam. The first man Adam, went to consult ‘Miss Feels-too-much’ about an issue completely unprompted!?”

Adam dropped his arms and started getting all defensive again.

“Why’d ya gotta say it that way?” He whined. You pull him back in for another hug which he willingly allows.

“Sorry big guy. I’m just really impressed is all. You have come a long way in such a short time. I’m so proud of you.” You squeezed tightly before letting him go. “I could actually go for a coffee right now. Good thing I got a brand new mug to drink from.”

He groans at your cheesy words before picking up the bag off the floor he hooks an arm around your neck and pulls you along back into the elevator to go and get that drink.

-----

This fic became longer than I thought it would.

My Ask box is still open if anyone else has a Sinner!Adam prompts they want to send in.

#jamie writes #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin adam #gender neutral reader #sinner!adam #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #prompt filled #my fic #sorry this took so long

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deancasbigbang · 2 months ago

Text

Title: Physical Graffiti

Author: entropic_saudade

Artist: BasketcaseBetty

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Endgame Dean Winchester/Castiel, Brief Dean Winchester/Ash, Brief Dean Winchester/Max Banes, John Winchester/Kate Milligan, Past John Winchester/Mary Winchester, Past Dean Winchester/Lee Webb, Past Dean Winchester/Cassie Robinson, Past Dean Winchester/Others, Past Castiel/Others, Implied Bobby Singer/Rufus Turner, Past Bobby Singer/Karen Singer, Harper Sayles/Vance, Edward Carrigan/Madge Carrigan, Jenny Sorenson/OMC, Larry Pike/Joanie Pike, Background Max/Stacy.

Length: 75000

Warnings: Archive Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings. Additional Content Warnings: Self Harm, Alcohol Use Disorder, Recreational Drug Use, Child Abuse, Past Non-Con, Past Underage, Past Drug Addiction, Minor Character Death, Mental Health Issues

Tags: Case Fic, Murder Mystery, Horror Elements, Slow Burn, Journalist Dean Winchester, Detective Cas, Eventual Hopeful Ending, Families of Choice

Posting Date: November 4, 2024

Summary: The only ghosts and demons are the ones inside his head. Fresh from a prematurely-ended stint at an inpatient psychiatric facility, ‘former’ self-harmer and functional alcoholic Dean Winchester returns to Sioux Falls, where he works as a crime journalist. His editor, Bobby Singer, sends him back home to Lawrence to gather the story on the murder of a teen boy and the recent disappearance of another. Painful memories from growing up resurface as the missing boy turns up horrifically dead and another goes missing. The investigation is further complicated by the town’s gossipy tight-knit nature, Dad’s judgment, and botched attempts at making inroads with his estranged half-family, Kate and Adam Milligan. Dean crosses paths with Castiel Novak, a renegade detective from Kansas City with a troubled past of his own. As they work together, they slip past each other’s defenses, unearthing each other’s secrets and digging for the truth. As it turns out, monsters just might be real—and they just might live at home. A Sharp Objects-inspired AU.

Excerpt: A dumpy parking lot, leaning against Baby’s hood, looking to the stars—it reminds Dean of doing the same with the football jocks. The way he’d smuggle stolen beer cans in Dad’s jacket pocket, turning him from ‘homo’ to ‘hero’ in their eyes. Stupidly, it reminds him of Lee. Dean sneaks a glance over at Cas’ profile, tracing the angle of his jaw as he tilts his head up. The same stupid butterflies flap in his stomach. He suffocates them with a few swigs. “So, our arrangement. I’ll answer a question for each one you answer,” Cas offers, his adam’s apple bobbing. “Deal.” “What was it like growing up in Lawrence?” Dean whistles. “Starting with hardballs, huh? You don’t pull any punches.” “Would you rather I ask for your favorite color?” Cas teases. He groans. “No, none of that grade school shit. Gimme the real scoop.” Cas raises a pointed brow. You first. “Alright, Lawrence.” He sighs, bracing himself. “Mom had… my brother when I was four.” His voice wavers slightly when he brings up Sammy. “Adam is much younger, though, isn’t he?” “Different brother, Kate’s my stepmom. Me and Sam, we’re our Mom’s. She died when Sam was six months old. House fire.” Cas’ eyes sadden, but he doesn’t say anything. “But, as far as growing up—normal, I guess. Went to the school district nearby, was in wrestling for a little bit. I wasn’t some prodigy but I did okay, grades-wise.” “I bet you were Mr. Popular.” Dean barks a laugh. “Uh, no. Sorta depends on who you ask.” Depends on what year. “After graduation, I left for college.” Dean skips over the rest of the highlight reel. “And Sam?” “Hey, you gotta answer at least one question first,” Dean pokes him. “Why is a detective from Kansas City down in Lawrence?” “My supervisor likes to send me out on solo cases for assists. I don’t exactly work well with others.” “Well, you and I make a pretty good team—a little chaotic, maybe, but at least we ruled two suspects off your list.” “That we did. It’s a shame you’re not a detective.” “Reporters are detectives of sorts. We both look for narrative, just in different ways.” Cas gives a thoughtful hum. “My turn again. What happened to Sam?” Dean’s throat convulses. “He died. We were in our teens.” “What happened?” “He was sick all the time. One day, he just… kept getting worse. His body couldn’t take it.” Sammy’s ghost observed them, sadly, flickering in an in-between state. “I’m sorry, Dean.” They sit in silence for a few moments. Panic builds in Dean’s chest, and he worries that he’s ruined whatever rapport they’d been building. “I’ll tell you something if you swear to not tell another soul?” Dean nods, relief settling over him. He eats secrets for breakfast. “The real reason I work Homicide is because it’s better than what I used to do.” “What’s so bad that working Homicide is better?” Cas looked down and didn’t answer.

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

#dcbb 2024 #fic preview #2024 promo #deancas #destiel

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writersdelight · 8 months ago

Note

I LOVE UR FICS!!!! WHAT ABOUT HCS FOR ZESTIAL AND LUTE (seperate) WITH A SHORT READER???? :D

Zestial/Reader Hcs!

Short reader though it isn’t entirely important

———————————————————————

→ Content: Fluff, mentions of suicide (not by Zestial or Reader), not-proof read (we die like Adam)

→ Author's note: I’m not quite sure he would be all that different with a short s/o, but he would find it amusing at the least! I love this man

———————————————————————

-> How the hell did you get tangled up with this delightful being of destruction?

-> Most demons do everything they can to avoid him. A lot of them killed themselves, some even set themselves on FIRE to avoid him

-> However you two met, it was certainly involved him having some sort of curiosity about you

-> Something about you has his fascination and he simply must indulge himself

-> Meeting him had you scared, OBVIOUSLY, he’s the oldest overlord with his presence still terrifying so many (regardless of how outdated he may seem, cough Velvette)

-> He spent your first few minutes of your time together having to assure you that he has “ no plans to harm thee.”

-> At first, it was…. a lot

-> Him talking to you, a practical nobody, garnered some attention from the pride ring’s residents

-> After the first meeting, he began popping up in your life more frequently

-> He was always cordial, asking about yourself. He wanted to know you, trying to figure you out, as if you were some puzzle

-> He found the height difference between the two of you delightful. With you being shorter than the average demon and him being practically twice the size of one, it was funny to him

-> He doesn’t make a point of talking about your height, but he does like to involve it in nicknames. You’re his droplet of sunshine, his teaspoon of sugar, his darling pearl, you get the point

-> If he ever asks you out, it’s certainly.. traditional in a way, you better be happy he doesn’t have access to your family because he would certainly want to ask for your hand through your parents

-> He would go with bringing you a boquet, most likely carnations or roses due to the red colors, with a carnation meaning a divine sort of love with a red rose meaning an earthy sort of love

-> Even if you don’t understand his intentions with the flowers, he’ll be direct with his words. He wants you to know he cherishes you- he wants you to be his and him to be yours

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #zestial #zestial hazbin hotel #zestial x reader #Zestial x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #no use of y/n #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel hcs #reqs open #fluff #gender neutral reader

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stararch4ngelqueen · 1 year ago

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Sooo idk if u take requests and this is super angst but it’s been in my mind. Kinda like ghosts and mirages can u write a fic where jay finds readers (his gf) notebook and sees that she’s suicidal? And how he stops her? If this is too much angst I get it. Mwah !

TW: Suicide/self harm/mentions of attempts. STRONG topics, this was difficult to write but if it brings comfort to someone in need, I hope so. Please be advised.

- -

Before Jason was killed, he had natural ideas of death, as did everyone else.

What did heaven look like? Was it a fluffy clouded paradise? Would people find eternal happiness sitting by crystallize rivers glimmering in the sun, feasting on ripe fruits like Adam and Eve had done before them?

Everyone’s ideals were different, Jason’s had always changed. However, he liked the idea of this heaven, enjoying the possibilities of seeing his old pets running to him once the time came.

Just like the torch passed from one Robin to the next, things unexpectedly change.

When Jason died, there was nothing.

No heaven, no hell, no happiness. Maybe God held his soul on standby because he knew he’d return to the living. He wasn’t happy about it for the longest time.

Luckily, a piece of heaven blessed itself in a person such as yourself. Your smile as bright as sunshine, your heart as sweet and pure as gold. He’s never met anyone so happy, so free spirited and optimistic.

He didn’t mean to read it. He really didn’t.

He watched you write in journals all the time, ripping out pages when it came to grocery lists or phone numbers to shove in your backpack before leaving the door. He was only looking for a shopping list you texted him to take a photo of, only to come across the tragedies you’ve dealt with and still carry.

His heart absolutely shattered when he reads the vivid darkness of your sorrows embodied within the pages of your private journal. A painful burn forming deep in his chest, right in his own heart.

What worried him the most was your latest entry, dated on a Monday in fresh ink. Monday. Yesterday.

When you came home in question as to why Jason never sent you that list, you didn’t expect him to be sitting in the living room. His head hung low, his hands clenched together in desperation.

He didn’t bother to say anything. He didn’t need to.

Your journal, your cursed, dark brown journal was sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

Your silence screams out to him, his head turning to acknowledge your presence. He stands slowly, watching you carelessly drop your backpack onto the floor, looking absolutely horrified at what’s to come.

“Jason,” you say, staying right where you were at the door. “Stop. Stop that.”

“Stop what?” He asks, staring at you with somber eyes.

“Stop that,” you instantly reply, feeling your heart beat much faster. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like that!” You exclaim, your breathing growing more frantic. “Like I’m ... like there’s something wrong with me! Cut it out! Stop it!”

“I’m not—!” Jason’s voice accidentally raised, forcing himself to hold his tongue, his hands balled tightly by his sides.

“There’s nothing wrong with you baby,” He begins to say, only met with your shaking head.

“No, y’know what? Don’t bother,” you reply, quickly reaching for your keys.

You weren’t going to take that kind of conversation from anyone else ever again. The same, horrid words you’ve heard from your parents, your siblings, your friends.

You’re sick. How could you do this? What’s wrong with you? You need to be locked up somewhere.

Bold, accusatory statements that hurt worse than any knife ever could.

“You read it. It wouldn’t be sitting there if you hadn’t! I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you tell me that I’m—“

“Just stop!” He rips the keys from your hands, taking you by surprise at how fast he reached you. He nearly traps you against the door, hands grasping firmly along your shoulders.

“There’s nothing, baby!” He states right to your face, making your eyes grow wide. “There’s nothing wrong with you, okay? Nothing. I won’t let you think there is, get that shit out of your head right now!”

“B-but,” you start to babble, thick tears heading in the borders of your eyes. “I- I just -“

“You’re not crazy,” he interrupts, cradling your face in his heavy, trembling hands. “You’re not sick. Theirs nothing wrong with you, y’hear me? Nothing! Not a damn thing!”

Jason exhales a pained laugh, his own eyes spewing with tears. “Take it from me, babygirl. I’ve already died once, I’ll die again if you think like this.”

Speechless stole your ability to think, your ability to breathe. Your throat constricts around an invisible ball of molten steel, making you choke on your tears.

“I know you don’t wanna go, Princess,” Jason’s voice grows softer, both his thumbs making work in wiping your tears. “I know you don’t. You’re just tired, baby. That’s all.”

Slowly, you find yourself nodding, watching him nod with you.

“I’m tired,” you admit, gasping heavily in your newly weakened vulnerability. “I’m so tired, Jason.”

He holds you close to his body, clutching you as if saving you from a devastating fall. He knows this pain all too well, and you’ve saved him from it.

“I know,” he exhales, keeping you from withering away in the safety of his arms. “I gotcha now, okay baby? M’not going anywhere, jus’ let it out. I’m a big guy, I can take it.”

His biggest regret was letting those entries fill up three quarters of the journal. How many more did you fill up before then? How much pain do you carry in your heart that you need to hide via forcefully brighter smiles?

He wasn’t going to let this go on much longer. He needed you to know that someone in this harsh world understood the exhaustion, and that it was okay.

He didn’t know if Heaven or Hell truly existed, or if it was all just some huge hole of dark nothingness. He didn’t want you finding out either, feeling he’d be torn at the idea of bringing you to a Lazarus pit, but relenting on the possible side effects you’d suffer for it.

You deserved nothing of what Jason experienced, the man himself now feeling hellbent to protect you from it.

There wasn’t going to be any attempt, because Jason would do everything in his damn power to make sure that never, ever fucking happens.

Medications were locked, except the essentials, which even he supervised. He’d order from your favorite restaurants for a short while, preventing any use of kitchen cutlery.

He’d dote, making sure you kept your hygiene maintained. He’d enjoy sitting beside you outside the tub while you bathed, reading to you to keep you company. Though on certain days, you’d find his eyes flicker from the paper towards your hands when you had to use a razor, which even he was iffy about, and hid once you were done.

He never said he didn’t trust you, but don’t really be surprised if your razor is replaced with hair removal cream for the first few weeks.

If you were comfortable enough to seek out therapy, he’d offer up numbers of therapists he’s visited and trusted, helping you keep up schedules. After each session, he’d surprise you with flowers and boba on a park walk, or drive outside of Gotham.

Progress would be made, but progress wouldn’t move forward without your weak moments.

You’d have your days where your motivation was as stubborn as Jason’s mentality, refusing to listen to the things he said, or not bothering to get dressed for your next scheduled session.

Depression is horrid, but he understood. He was the most patient man you knew, cradling your body close to his in the middle of the night, muffling your minutes of screaming sobs against his chest, gently prying your hands away from your forearms when you dig your nails in a little too deep.

He’d remain awake as long as he had to, cradling your hands in his until your agony mellowed out, lulling you back to sleep. He was being the person he wished he had by his side long before he met you, back when he was alone and had no one.

Jason looked forward to the days you’d smile again, genuine happiness being a fuel to those pleasant flames. It’s okay if it would take a long time, keep giving him your tears. He can handle it.

You were the greatest gift he’s ever gotten in this fucked up world, not even you were going to take it away from him.

- -

I don’t know what death is like, nor do I know of all beliefs everyone has of them, but I do know about suicidal thoughts/intentions and having experienced them, please know, as tired as you may be, it isn’t worth it. My inbox is open if you ever need it. Dosent matter if you’re a stranger, let’s not be ❤️

#this hurt #jason todd #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #dc jason todd #gotham knights jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd dc #jason todd x female!reader #jason todd x plus size reader #angst #heavy angst #tw self destruction #tw sui implied

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mrskreideprinz · 1 month ago

Text

| A Haunting Face |

Ruan Mei x Gn!Reader | Minors do not interact

Warnings: Gender neutral reader, Very Selfship coded, First Meet, No gender descriptions for reader, No pronouns for reader, Fluff, 1.7k words.

A/n: I wanted to write a fic for how me and Ruan Mei meet in our selfship, so I wrote it 👍🏻 I plan on writing more about this selfship because this was the most fun I had writing something in such a long time. I may make this a small series of one shots related to each other so keep that in mind too.

Summary: When Asta sends you on what was supposed to be a quick errand you end up lost in the seclusion zone, and come face to face with a certain someone.

It’s unusual to think about the first time you met Ruan Mei now. A smirk creeps on your lips as you turn the page of an all too familiar book. Although you enjoy the present there is no harm in reminiscing. You let out a soft sigh as the pleasant memories flood through your mind.

One Year Ago

“This is a mess.” You threw your head back and groaned. “How am I supposed to find the paperwork with all this-“ you grabbed a forgotten file envelope and tossed it to the side “-junk in the way?”

The girl behind you, Asta, rubbed the back of her head and chuckled nervously. “Sorry. I’ll have someone clean it up after you find it.”

You turned your head to look at her. “If I find it.” You returned your gaze to the task at hand with a groan. “Why do you need the records anyway?”

Asta helped you look through a nearby file cabinet that had collected dust. “Beats me. All I know is that Madame Herta wants it brought to her by the end of the day.”

You searched through file after file while thinking back on what Asta had told you before about those records.

“I don’t know much of the details. All I know is that Madame Herta was adamant that she needed it by today.”

“What does she need the records for if you don’t mind me asking?”

“That I cannot disclose. I’m sorry.”

Weird, you thought.

Shuffling through another file cabinet you came across a rather aged and odd looking folder, and just as you were about to open it Asta snatched it from your hand.

“You found it!” She exclaimed, hugging it close to her chest with a satisfied hum. “Thank god, I was so sure I’d have been toast if we didn’t find it.”

You grinned and gave Asta a look.

She waved and chuckled nervously. “I mean.. Thank you for finding it.”

You stood up from your kneeling position to brush off the dust and dirt that had collected on your pants. “So, is that all then?”

Asta stood up and smiled awkwardly. “Well..”

You sighed, putting a hand on your hip. “Alright, spit it out.”

“Okay, so the truth is I need you to grab one more thing for me.” She admitted.

You raised a brow playfully as you waited for her to continue.

“I need you to talk to a researcher named Emily down in the control center on the storage zone, from there she will give you the rest of the instructions. If you have any problems just say that Asta sent you, but you shouldn’t run into any difficulties. I’ve already debriefed her that this might’ve been a possibility.”

You sighed dramatically and flashed Asta a smile. “If I must.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you! You’re a lifesaver!” Asta exclaimed.

After Asta gave you a hug as thanks the two of you went your separate ways and you headed towards your destination. It had been a while since you had to make your way down there and admittedly you ended up getting a little lost in the process, but you eventually found your way there. Or at least you thought you had.

“Where the hell..” You mumbled to yourself.

Looking around you were sent down a bunch of twists and turns after taking the elevator to what was supposed to be the storage zone, but you didn’t recognize any of your surroundings. You eventually stopped at a wall to look at the map of the space station again. Surely, there must’ve been some explanation for all of this.

Just as you had given up and decided to try finding your way back to the elevator, you spotted a lit up door nearby that looked promising. As it opened up you entered a room that you had most certainly never been in before. Taking a quick look around you saw no one and barely anything out of the ordinary. Until you heard meows by your feet.

Looking down you saw what looked to be a creature resembling a cat. You couldn’t help but smile as you looked at it, it was quite precious after all.

“Well, hello sweetheart.” You cooed, kneeling down to pet it gently.

The cat purred and trusted you almost instantly. A part of you wished you could take it home with you, but something told you that wouldn’t be right. You gave it an apologetic smile before moving forward.

“I’m sorry, bubbie.” You said as you gave the creature a few goodbye pats.

Continuing on with your investigation you soon noticed that there were quite a few of those cats lying around the room. Although what really caught your attention was a lone figure off in the corner of the room, doing something you couldn’t get a glimpse of. Finally, you thought. You had been relieved to see someone else in this vacant zone aside from you.

Walking at a quick pace you called out to the person, explaining your situation as you eventually came face to face with the stranger. It was a woman whose face you swore you’d seen before, but that would be ridiculous and impossible. The woman ended up paying you hardly any attention as if she was hoping you’d simply leave her alone, but that was not what happened.

“I’m so sorry, I’m trying to find the storage zone and..” You had begun to explain to the stranger your situation and where you were supposed to be, but still she seemed to pay you no mind.

The woman finally stopped what she was doing to look at you. “You shouldn’t be down here.” She sounded disappointed.

“I know and I sincerely apologize for that, but if you could just help me get out of here then I would- O-Okay, you’re touching my face.. Why are you touching my face?” You stammered.

“Just a simple work habit of mine. It helps me understand people better.” She explained.

She tilted your face side to side and then moved her fingers so that they rested underneath your chin. Looking deep into your eyes she analyzed you, taking every part of you with her as she became suddenly fascinated by you. Finally she removed her hand from your face and tilted her head as if to study you.

“Your name is..” As she spoke your name you felt a familiar feeling tug at your heart. “..Correct?”

You nodded, still not quite listening to what she was saying. Where had you seen her before? Have you ever seen her before? You were sure if you knew her name it would all click into place.

She smiled at you upon your approval of your name.

“What’s your name? Miss..?” You nearly blurted it out. On one hand you felt a little guilty but on the other you were losing patience just waiting for her to say it.”

“You can just call me Ruan Mei.” She replied with a smile.

Ruan Mei, you thought with a smile.

“That’s a beautiful name.” You said, not realizing what you had said until hearing the words come straight out of your own mouth.

Ruan Mei smiled and chuckled to herself.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You said rubbing the back of your head. “I don’t know why I said that. I mean- !”

You leaned back against the counter with your hand and had somehow knocked over a tray filled with (thankfully) empty vials. In your effort to reach down for them you somehow lost your balance just in time for you to fall into Ruan Mei’s arms. Admittedly that wasn’t the first time that had happened. You remembered how Herta had to leave strict instructions for you to stay out anywhere with fragile objects to avoid the fiascos that so often occurred, but in front of Ruan Mei had to be the worst time of all for your clumsiness.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You panicked.

Ruan Mei helped you back into an upright position, seemingly unbothered by your clumsiness even with every one of those vials shattered.

“It’s alright.” She reassured you with a gentle expression.

“B-But I broke the- and I was such a fucking clutz!” You knelt down to clean up the mess. “Let me make this right.” But you were quickly and carefully yanked back up by Ruan Mei.

“Careful.” She said sternly. “Plus, there’s no need. It’s just broken glass after all, I can get new ones quite easily.” She replied reassuringly, watching as your expression of dread slowly vanished into some sort of relief. “Besides, those weren’t mine anyway, and whoever’s it was mustn't have cared much considering how long they’ve been sitting down here.”

You blinked at her and then chuckled nervously. “Oh, okay then.”

Although Ruan Mei could feel the embarrassment in your voice she smiled regardless. Being pleased with herself that you had trusted her word.

“You said you needed to find your way to the storage zone? If so, I can still take you up on your request and lead you there.” She suggested.

Her words didn’t soak in until a few moments passed but once they had you nodded with a big smile on your face, one that you tried dearly to not show so obviously.

“Yes! I would love that, thank you.” You replied gleefully.

“Alright, then allow me to clean up the broken glass and we can be on our way.”

The both of you smiled at each other. You knelt down to help her clean up the glass and before you knew it the mess was entirely gone. It seemed as if disaster had never struck at all. Eventually the both of you made your way to the storage zone, and as you walked there you couldn’t help but smile as Ruan Mei talked about various things that she shared with you. It was true that you had only just met her but you couldn't help but feel like you’d been in her presence before, but you would’ve remembered feeling that warmth. There was no way you could forget such a lovely feeling.

#hsr x reader #ruan mei x reader #hsr x you #ruan mei x you #hsr x y/n #ruan mei x y/n

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lirational · 1 year ago

Note

Hello, I just found your blog, and as a fan of PTN, I wanted to see if you would be interest in indulging a request of mine.

Said request is a poor reader revealing their rather desperate financial situation to Chelsea or Eirene by accident, namely by accidentally showing them their crumbling apartment home or hinting they can't afford their medicine.

I also hope you don't mind if I decide to make my own take on the requests and suggestions I send you when I get the chance, orif I share them with others, as I have made a similar suggestion to a fic writer in ao3.

Regardless, I hope you take care and stay safe, and I wish you good luck in PTN my fellow Chief.

Thank you for the request, and gladly, go ahead and do your own take ^^ after all more fics in PtN is always good!

—

Chelsea x Reader and Eirene x Reader (separate)

Content warnings: might contain a bit of financial manipulation (particularly Eirene’s, though nothing NSFW. Regardless, exercise caution.

Countess Chelsea:

She found out when you got an unexpected call from your insurance provider when you both were on a date, notifying you that they would stop covering the cost for one of your meds.

You were always adamant about not relying on her for anything, and she was fond of this part of you, but still, you insisted that it’s alright, you can take care of yourself, and you will find a way out of this mess the way you always did whenever a similar problem came up.

This earns you a pinch of your cheek and a teasing remark, and she stopped mentioning it up to the end of your date.

Later at night, you receive a call, saying that there was a policy mistake and you’ll get your meds covered again.

Chelsea was evasive about it when asked directly, however, your guess was practically confirmed from the way she acts. She’s more demanding for cuddles, more willing to tease you for more affection. Part of this was from habit, as she would usually ask her sugar babies to do som embarassing things in exchange for her money, but for the most part? She wants you close.

I believe that Sitri would actually push you closer to her while you two were cuddling. Having a gem cat press on your back or body is certainly interesting, to say the least.

One thing is clear, after this, Chelsea will start paying more attention to you :)

Eirene:

There is no way that she wouldn’t have found out eventually. As the CEO of a supermassive company, she has to keep an eye on those she cherishes, or risk those people getting harmed by her competitors.

However, she is a businesswoman through and through, and it shows with the ‘aid’ she gave you. When you got drenched late at night as your roof gave way, she immediately responded, ordering her employees to take you to the best hotel right away. You thanked her afterwards, and she did bask in your gratitude, however, she keeps a ledger of the aid she gave you.

She takes time to visit under pretense of checking the hotel’s accomodation. In her words, a business under her company should always provide the best accomodation at all times and this was just a surprise inspection. However, you can just sense that she wanted an excuse to visit you.

Point this out, however, and all of a sudden, a vase in a corner somewhere would turn into a pile of dust, while her demeanor remained the same.

She loves you, truly, but a combination of wanting to keep you safe and her desire to have you culminates in giving you a contract, promising you will never want for anything as long as you work for her. Under several dozen pages of legalese, she hid a clause that you would surrender your entire being to her.

All the aid she gives are not free, and she keeps a ledger of how much you owe her. Write your name on the dotted line, and your life will become all that much easier~

#path to nowhere #path to nowhere x reader #path to nowhere headcanons #ptn eirene x reader #ptn chelsea x reader #countess chelsea x reader #eirene x reader #chelsea x reader

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ageless-aislynn · 8 months ago

Text

Title: “15 Minutes” (10/15) Author: @ageless-aislynn Characters/fandom: Master Chief John-117/Reader, Halo the series Summary: As you heal, you're not alone. Series: How to date a Spartan (without even trying) Rating: T (PG13) Length: 2,604 (this chapter, 24,863 total so far) Spoilers: Set in the Silver Timeline of Halo the series, not the games or novels. Though we began with the events of Halo 1x06, there will be no more show spoilers. We are still firmly seated in the AU Warthog, merrily driving out to places where there’s only a passing nod to canon. 😉 Disclaimer: Definitely not mine but I do enjoy borrowing them just for a bit! 😉 A/N: Text is both here in this post or available at AO3, however you like to read. Apologies for the break we took for a few weeks here. 😳This chapter turned out a little longer than I expected, (please enter "that's what she said" joke of your choice here), so I hope that makes up a bit for the delay. If you read, I hope you enjoy! ⭐💖⭐

Taglist: @pinheadbanger @mysardencut @laurenstacy610 @sporadicbelievernightmare @ultrablackwidower @bxmxtx @jellotherelol @mirandastuckinthe80s

If you would like to be tagged in my John/Reader fics, just let me know! I also write John/Kai, John/Cortana and Kai/male Reader, so I’m glad to tag you for whatever you’d like. If you would like to be removed from the taglist, also feel free to let me know, no harm, no foul. 😉 💖

Halo fic masterlist ⭐

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

Pressure on your chest brought you startling awake, flinging your left arm up as if to try and break free of a restraint. White hot pain burst from your shoulder down your bicep like a cord of fire trying to amputate your arm. You gave a strangled cry, managing to sit up and clutch at the various points of hurt as the agony gradually faded.

Out of the darkness, a now-familiar woman's voice said your rank and last name. "Are you all right? Do you need me to dispatch medical assistance?"

"No," you quickly said, automatically straightening your sleep-rumpled shirt. "I moved my arm wrong. Thanks, though."

"Of course," she returned, her tone kind.

"Are you, um, monitoring me?"

"Just for sounds of distress or pain. John was adamant that your privacy be respected as much as possible."

That made you smile slightly under the cover of the lack of light. "I hope they've given you something else to do other than to listen for me to say ouch."

"Not to worry, I keep busy."

You nodded even though she couldn't see it. Or maybe she could? Was she holed up in some ONI office, watching you with thermal signatures or some other sort of tech? "I appreciate it, Ms. Classified. Though I believe you gave me your name, didn't you? I'm sorry, I can't remember what it was."

"You were a little busy at the time," she demurred. "It's Cortana but I rather like 'Ms. Classified,' I have to say. It's like a nickname between friends, isn't it?"

"It is," you said. "And please feel free to use my first name. No need for friends to stand on formality."

"Thank you," she said and, after a slight pause, added your name as if it were an honor to do so.

Was she a Spartan, perhaps? Something about her careful manner reminded you of how John sometimes reacted to interpersonal things as if he hadn't ever dealt with them before and wanted desperately to be right in his response.

You wasn't sure if you should ask and while you were still wondering, she said goodbye with a sound like pixels vanishing, though there had been no hologram of her to see this time.

Your day was a lot more mundane after that. PT came by as Dr. Savannah had said they would, and you dutifully did the exercises with minimal grumbling and complaining. The ancient saying about medics being terrible patients was still said for a reason, after all, but you didn't want to be One Of Those if you could help it.

The therapist had brought you breakfast from the mess for after your session: the cold cereal MRE, typically called mush rarely edible, along with plain black coffee. She also told you that the next session would be tomorrow instead of later today, due to a scheduling conflict.

So that left you with a whole lot of day and very little to fill it.

You were scrolling through your padd, looking through old documents and messages, intending to clean up and organize things but, more often than not, ended up reminiscing on the past, on friends once part of your every day life now long gone, either transferred away or worse.

You discovered a folder full of sketches of various Mjolnir designs you'd done back before you'd decided for certain to begin training to be a Brokkr tech. Your interest in the Spartans and their armor had been a mere hobby, then.

You were far from a gifted artist but trying to capture the different iterations, the bulkier but classic shapes of the Mark V, the more streamlined Mark VI, had made for fun practice. You'd also tried out a few ideas of your own, such as "floating" pieces of armor to try and better protect the Spartans' joints without sacrificing mobility. The final image, though, had been a purely fanciful one: a fusion of Mjolnir and medieval, a literal Spartan in shining armor.

You couldn't help but chuckle. There was no number on the chest plate but it was clearly Master Chief to anybody who was familiar with his armor configuration. The patterning on his visor had a texture reminiscent of a knight's helm and the flare of his shield had a shape like the plume of a feather at the crest of his head. One arm was extended but incomplete: you hadn't decided whether to give him a BR or DMR or go for something like a broadsword or lance. Then you'd simply never come back to finish it and it had been forgotten in your drafts for all this time.

Tapping a fingertip contemplatively against your lip, you thought for a moment, then impulsively picked up your stylus and began to draw.

Gentle fingertips brushed against your hair and you woke to find John next to the bed.

"Sorry to bother you," he murmured, "but you looked uncomfortable."

The moment he said that, your neck began protesting the odd angle your head had slumped into.

"Well, that was a bad idea," you said plaintively, straightening up very slowly. Your entire body ached like you'd been moonlighting as a punching bag. Your padd slipped off your lap to the mattress, then bounced towards the edge, and John easily caught it on the fly.

You suddenly remembered what had been on it. The screen was dark but all it would take was a brush of a finger to activate it again and he'd see--

"What's this?" he said, orientating the padd right side up.

"That's... my poor attempt at artistry," you said, feeling heat blooming up your neck. You resisted the urge to snatch it from his hand and throw it to the floor yourself.

"It's not poor," he countered, studying it even more intently. "Not at all. I like it a lot, especially the detail here."

He tapped the image and the SPNKr rocket launcher you'd placed casually in the Spartan's hand, resting on the armored shoulder, expanded to better reveal the intricate filigree you'd spent a considerable amount of time adding to the large missile chamber.

"I mean, it's not practical, of course," you mumbled but his sincere appreciation lessened your embarrassment. "I wanted a medieval feel to a modern weapon."

"Do you have others?" he asked, handing the padd back to you.

You appreciated that he didn't just start flipping through the images. You swiped back to show him your other Mjolnir studies.

The very corner of his mouth twitched. "These are all mine, aren't they?"

"Hm, I suppose they are," you said in mock surprise. "It looks like I've had a favorite Spartan for a while now."

"Good," he said decisively, then glanced at you with a soft smile. "Could I send a copy of this to R&D?"

"Which one?" you asked, alarmed.

"The floating armor," he said, the smile growing a bit.

"Yeah, if you want," you said and forwarded the study to him. "I doubt I've thought of anything they haven't by now but I guess you never know."

"And could I have a copy of the other one, just for me?"

"Really?"

"Really," he confirmed.

You switched back to the medieval drawing, adding your signature with a flourish in the corner before forwarding that one as well.

The door chimed and he went to open it as if it were expected.

"Master Chief, sir!" the young private said, making a motion no doubt intended to be a salute that he couldn't complete because of the large and apparently heavy covered tray he was carrying.

"At ease," he said, taking the tray from him.

The private snapped a salute as crisp as if he were in the presence of Lord Hood himself, then kept standing in the open doorway, staring rather starstruck.

"Thank you, you're dismissed," John told him.

"If you or the Hero of the Pit need anything, let me know, sir," the marine said earnestly before backing away.

Once the door closed, you said, "That really is a terrible nickname."

"The Covenant call me 'Demon,'" John said, bringing the tray to the bed and setting it on the foot.

"'Demon' is badass," you countered. "Mine sounds like I fell in a hole and somehow managed to crawl back out."

"Crawling out of that hole wasn't a given," he said, "and you made sure nobody else was in there with you."

He lifted the cover on the tray, revealing two sizzling plates of food. The smell that hit you was divine.

Your voice dropped an entire octave. "Is that eggplant parmigiana?"

"I... think so? It's whatever was being served in the Spartan mess for lunch." His expression darkened. "You were supposed to get breakfast from there, too, but there was apparently some sort of mix-up. It's been dealt with."

You felt momentarily sorry for whoever had been on the receiving end of being dealt with. "I can't eat Spartan portions."

"You actually can because it so happens that I can calculate how many calories a Brokkr mechanic-slash-medic needs in order to heal properly." He held that with a serious expression for a moment, then winked. "And I also asked Dr. Savannah about it. She said, and I quote, 'Tell her it's fine to live a little.'"

"Oh, well, if it's doctor's orders..." you trailed off with a grin.

He left to get a small table and chair for himself since there was only the one lap tray and you took the opportunity to hit the head, thinking you'd be settled back in before he returned. As it turned out, you either greatly underestimated how far he had to go to find what he was looking for or, more likely, had greatly overestimated how quickly you could move.

Your left arm wanted to draw up to your torso from the way your damaged shoulder muscle was currently being foreshortened. Raising it even close to 45 degrees made it feel like it was being ripped off of your body. You took a couple of deep breaths, forcing it straight down to your side, and gritted your teeth though the pain as you returned to the main room.

John had already finished setting up the portable table and turned, his expression going almost comically aghast. "Should I call somebody? What can I do? I can carry you or--"

"No, it's fine," you told him. "I just have to work through it."

He hovered next to you as you made the few, torturous step back to the bed, his worry a palpable thing. Your bad knee buckled and he caught your arm -- fortunately, the right one -- to keep you from going down. His fingers hit a bruise hidden under your sleeve but you managed to not react.

The stricken look he gave you meant he'd seen the reaction anyway.

"There we go," you said, trying to sound breezy but the result was more winded than anything as you propped up against the headboard. "I'm ready for lunch. Are you? Lunch sounds great right about now."

He seemed at a loss as to what to do. You gingerly reached out and wrapped your fingers around his.

"I'm okay," you said softly. "I'm healing on schedule and it could've been much worse."

He nodded shortly, very, very carefully folding his other hand over yours. With a brief glance away, he nodded a final time as if agreeing to something you couldn't hear and then exhaled purposefully, affecting a lighter tone. "Well, let's see how that eggplant parmigiana is, then, hm?"

Even though physical therapy wasn't scheduled again until tomorrow, you went ahead and did the exercises anyway. Not only did it give you something to do after John left, but you were even more inspired to try to regain your strength as soon as possible.

Since you were alone, you felt free to swear your way more and more creatively through the entire session and only after the fact did you worry that maybe you had accidentally taught Cortana some new words and phrases.

Nah, you thought. Surely, she's not stuck sitting at some console all day and night, listening for me to need something, right?

You almost asked it out loud, just to see if she was listening, but decided against it. You didn't want to imagine she'd been instructed to keep her earpiece in to monitor you even when she took a meal or bathroom break. Or that maybe she never even actually got to go off-duty at all. It hadn't escaped your attention that John apparently didn't trust anybody else to provide your erstwhile overwatch.

You ate your dinner when it arrived, a very delicious chicken gumbo, then turned in early, since sleep was also an important factor in healing.

But your sleep was restless, the aches in your body keeping you from getting comfortable, and then when you did doze off, your mind kept taking you back to those moments when you were trapped. A couple of times, you found yourself jolting awake, John's name on your lips. You wondered if he was on base, asleep in the Spartan quarters. You'd assumed he would come back if he were here but you hadn't actually asked him to. It was his room, though, so wouldn't he...?

Try to get some sleep, that's the best thing right now. You'll feel stronger tomorrow, you silently instructed yourself, trying to find a comfortable position.

The next time you woke, your heart was thundering in your ears and you made a small panicked noise.

The lights abruptly came up to a quarter and you looked around wildly.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

John sat up from where he was stretched out over on the couch and you instinctively reached for him. He was there almost as if appearing by magic, letting you grip his hand as he leaned over you.

You were tangled in the covers and struggled to free yourself. He carefully extricated you with his free hand.

"Were you having a nightmare?" he asked and you nodded.

"I- I didn't know you were here," you said, stumbling over the words. "Why are you on the couch? You could share. I'd- I'd like you to."

He got that slightly stricken look again. "I'm heavy. I'll hurt you by moving around. I can't... I can't cause you more pain. I'm right here, though."

You understood what he meant but it still stung a bit like rejection. You normally would've let him go, would've tried to accept it gracefully, but the phantom weight on your chest changed the words on your tongue.

Your voice emerged small and compressed. "I need you, John."

The words clearly hit him like a plasma bolt to the chest and his fingers closed gently around yours.

"All right," he finally said. "I'll be careful."

It took a few minutes but eventually you were in his arms, turned on your right side with your injured left arm resting on his chest, your head tucked into the curve of his neck. All of the movement did hurt but you absolutely didn't care; all that was important was that he was here, you could hear his heart beneath your ear, could feel his warmth seeping into all of your pains and soothing them.

"Thank you," you murmured into the softness of his shirt.

"You don't have to thank me," he said, kissing the top of your head and lightly brushing his fingers across the hand you had on his sternum.

You were almost asleep when you thought, but weren't completely sure, that he also quietly said, "I need you, too."

#halo #halo the series #halo paramount+#master chief x reader #x reader #john-117 x reader #aislynn's fics #aislynn's fic #ageless aislynn #fic: 15 minutes #series: how to date a spartan without even trying

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bullet-clubs-bitch · 6 months ago

Note

Anyway I can request a Christian Cage x Copeland!Reader fic? The reader is married to Christian and they have their own little family together and while Adam is under the influence of Malakai Black’s mist he ends up injuring his baby sister since when he sees her it reminds him of the long standing feud he and his childhood best friend and his baby sister’s husband just went through and when Adam ends up hurting her, Christian makes sure to do everything in his power to make sure the love of his life is taken care of and protected?

The Kings of The Black Throne

Christian Cage X fem reader

Warnings: Blood, violence, injury

Main Masterlist Christian Cage Masterlist

An: I wrote another Christian Cage x Adam Copelands little sister fic that you can find HERE if you are interested. (I quite enjoy that fic)

For weeks now The House of Black had been after Adam. I watched on a weekly basis as the men beat him to a pulp and tried to brainwash him into joining their group. At first I enjoyed watching the torturous events take place but now I couldn't help but feel that all of this was more than getting Adam to join their cult. “Are you alright? You seem on edge?” Christian asked me. “I just have a bad feeling about all of this” “Why? You should be happy he’s finally leaving us alone” Christian told me. “I know but what could The House of Black want from him. Truly. He has nothing to offer them Christian. I can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe there's something bigger going on here” Christian had a point, I should have been happy that Adam was finally leaving us alone. He’s done nothing but cause trouble since the moment he stepped in AEW. He still couldn't accept the relationship between Christian and I. 15 years and three kids later he still couldn't accept it. He tried to tear my family apart, he tried to take the TNT title but of course he was no match for the patriarchy.

Tonight our adopted son Nick Wayne was scheduled to have a match against Daniel Garcia on Dynamite. As the two of us got ready to go I ended up running into Adam, he had a dark look in his eyes. I didn’t think much of it, we had a match to win. The match was going well, everything was according to plan when all of a sudden the lights went out. Out of instinct I jumped into the ring and stood in front of Nick. That gut feeling had returned and was stronger than ever. Just then the lights turned on. I should have known The House of Black would be behind all of this. What did they want from us? “What the fuck do you want?” I spat at Malakai. “Trust me when I say it’s not you that I want. Who I’m after is your brother, Adam Copeland” “You can have him, I don’t fucking want him” “I really don’t want to be doing this sweatheart, I actually admire you but as much as you hate your brother I know he loves you” What was he talking about? Just then I felt it. The burning sensation of Malakai’s Mist. I could hear Nick’s screams of help but I couldn't do anything, I had been blinded by the mist. I was defenseless, Brody and Buddy held me down while Julia handcuffed Nick to the ring ropes. I couldn't see much but I noticed a dark figure match down towards the ring. I assumed it was Christian but was shocked when I saw Adam stand before me.

“This is your final test” Malakai said to Adam as he handed him a steel chair. “Do it” he spat. “Think about all the harm she has caused you. Think about what she put you through. She cost you the TNT championship, she cost you your best friend. You are all alone Adam, your family, everyone you loved, gone. All of this is Y/n’s fault. Prove to us you are worthy. Join us, join us as we take over All Elite Wrestling. Join us on our quest to capturing the TNT championship”

I knew it, I knew they were using him. They wanted to use me to get to Adam to get to Christian. It was a long plan, they took months planning this. Would it have been easier to ask Christian for a title shot? Absolutely but I must say I respected this plan of theirs.

I could see the hesitation in Adam’s eyes. He couldn't do it, he was too weak. Just then I saw Julia whisper something in Adam’s ear. I didn’t know what she told him but I could see the effect it had on him. His eyes had turned black, the look on his face was cold and dead. They stole his soul. I don’t know what happened after that. All I remembered was waking up in a hospital bed.

“You’re awake, how are you feeling baby?” Christian asked me carefully. “Where’s Nick?” I asked “Is he okay?” “Nick’s fine, he’s okay. It’s you that I’m worried about” He said as he carefully brushed his fingers on the fresh stitched on my skull. “What happened to you?” I asked him as I noticed his busted lip. “You were right about The House of Black. They attacked you honey. I tried to get out there but they locked me and Luchasaurus in our locker room. When I got there it was too late, I’m so sorry baby” I could see the tears start to form in his eyes as he spoke. “I should have listened to you, I should have been there to protect you. I failed you” I carefully wiped the tears that fell from his face. “It's okay, I’m okay” I told him reassuringly “No it’s not okay. I had to watch Adam crack your skull open with that chair and I could do nothing about it. I couldn't do anything when you were blinded by that mist. I watched them beat you to unconscious and I could do nothing about it. I really hoped my issues with Adam were over but it seems like they have just begun. I promise that I will do everything I can to get my revenge. I am going to take out the house of black one by one before I kill Adam with my bare hands. I will not rest until they pay for what they have done.”

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deadgirlwalking91 · 6 months ago

Text

new update - 'thank you for the venom', chapter 4: 'sugar, we're goin' down swinging'

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter 4 Summary

After a hard day, all Lute wants to do is relax in the bath. Alone.

Adam, however, has other plans.

Author's note:

I have a super cool announcement to make - I now have a beta reader! And not just any old beta - she is none other than the most incredible, incomprehensibly talented @branded-rose! She deserves the utmost thanks for being my sounding board, fellow head-canon theoriser, hype gal and all-round legend. Also, if you aren't familiar with her work, close this tab right now and go check her art and accompanying mini-fics out!

I have had the MOST fun writing this chapter. The concept for it has undergone a few transformations in my mind, and I'm glad it's ended up where it has. I hope you all enjoy reading it!

As always, thank you for the comments, likes, reblogs, inboxes and for reading this silly little story <3

***

Lute’s Apartment, Exorcist Training Centre, Heaven

Lute hated being injured.

It wasn’t necessarily the feeling of being in pain that she couldn’t stand. On the contrary, she welcomed the tenderness of every bruise, the sting of every laceration – hell, the dull, aching throb of every broken bone that had been inflicted upon her over her years as an Exorcist. Pain meant she had no hesitations in putting her body on the line; she was renowned, after all, for her reputation as an unrelenting, unstoppable, balls-to-the-wall killing machine.

Her body was heavily adorned with the scars as proof of her status; hundreds of faded gold marks of varying sizes were flecked upon her otherwise pale skin. Each healed wound beheld a gory reminder of her battles and triumphs.

No, what irked Lute was the unwanted attention that she attracted whenever she sustained an injury. Thankfully, due to her recent refocus on physical conditioning, there were no weapons being handled and therefore, there should have been minimal opportunity for anybody to come into harm’s way under her guidance.

There was just one variable that Lute hadn’t accounted for: her dickhead boss.

What the fuck had Adam been thinking, tackling her so suddenly during that afternoon’s training session? One minute, she’d been pointing out common weak spots to hit on a Sinner’s body to expose their vulnerabilities, and then the next she’d unexpectedly been crushed by him. Her right hip and lower back had taken the brunt of the fall as he’d grabbed her around the torso, pinned her arms against her body and drove her into the floor with a force so great she’d been winded before she hit the deck.

Then, her sisters had shrieked, screamed – there may have even been one who cried, there usually was when someone hurt themselves – and crowded around her as she lay on the hardwood floor, dazed, confused and completely smothered by Adam’s considerably larger frame.

“Get off her, Sir, she’s not breathing!”

“I-is…is she dead?”

“Lieutenant, are you alright?!”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Commander?! What the fuck was that?!” Thank God for Vaggie, who had elbowed her way to the front of the gaggling group and stood, hands on hips, glaring at the angel who lay atop her friend.

“Out of line, Vagina,” he had drawled lazily, finally pulling himself up to a standing position. “You owe me burpees for that.”

“I don’t owe you a thing after the bullshit you just pulled,” she’d snapped back, helping Lute stand to her feet. “Ladies, back up, she’s coming through.”

“Thanks,” Lute had managed to grunt, shuffling away from the crowd as quickly as she could so they couldn’t see the golden flush of humiliation that had started to warm her cheeks. There was only one thing that she hated more than being injured, and that was being embarrassed.

Luckily, the colour of her face had returned to normal by the time she’d knocked on Sera’s door to report that training had been cancelled for the rest of the day. She’d even come up with the perfect excuse: the Exorcists had made such remarkable progress with their strength training she was giving them the rest of the afternoon off as a reward while she made some adjustments to their schedule.

Too bad her hip and lower back had started burning by that point – not to mention the feathers of her wings were incredibly ruffled, a dead giveaway that she’d been involved in some kind of mishap. Sera, astute as ever, noticed her limp and disgruntled appearance and had demanded to know what had happened. And it wasn’t like Lute could lie to the Head Seraphim.

At least, not off the cuff.

And so, she found herself fumbling for her key outside her apartment door, ordered to rest up for the evening lest her injuries worsened.

Oh, she was going to rest up, alright. Today’s events called for a bath so damn hot her skin would burn brighter than the surface of the sun, a glass of wine in one hand and steamy novel in another. She’d slip beneath the bubbles of her bath and into the pages of her book, with zero plans to re-enter reality for at least three – no, maybe four hours.

At last, she felt her apartment key in bottom of her bag. Sighing in relief as she entered her immaculate personal sanctuary, she softly pushed the front door back towards its frame without looking, kicking her trainers off as soon she was fully inside. Hanging her bag onto a hook in her entryway, she made a beeline for her small kitchen – specifically, for a bottle of red wine she knew she’d had stashed away at the bottom of her pantry for emergencies and unexpected visits from Vaggie.

After the day she’d had, this was absolutely classified as an emergency.

Ignoring the burn that seemed to now consume most of her lower body, Lute located a wine glass and unscrewed the lid of the bottle, pausing to take a long swig directly from it before filling her glass.

Classy.

Sipping her drink from its intended vessel, she plucked a candle off her coffee table and wandered into her bathroom to start preparing for her date with her bathtub.

As Lute sat her glass and candle onto the counter, she caught her reflection in the mirror. God, she looked like she’d had a day – though, to be fair, she’d had the absolute wind knocked out of her only a few hours earlier. Her platinum hair, half of which had been twisted into a small knot on top of her head, had loose strands starting to fall around her face. The bun was askew, leaning more towards the right and threatening to unravel any minute. If her little altercation hadn’t been so public, it wouldn’t be so farfetched for one to imagine she’d been sandwiched between her boss and the floor for a different reason.

Snorting in disgust to herself at the mental image she’d painted, she released her topknot and leant down to turn on the bath mixer, nudging the lever closer to the right until the water temperature was practically scalding. Perfection. She plugged the bath and turned her attention to the unlit candle.

She’d forgotten the lighter. Dammit. She walked gingerly back out into her living area, peeling her crop top up and off over her head, letting it fall to the floor somewhere near the bench of her kitchen, her socks following. Usually, she’d never allow herself to leave stray items of clothing around her apartment, but she was so hyper focused on getting into her bath she was willing to break her own rules - just this once. Besides, she’d tidy up before bedtime anyhow.

After she grabbed the lighter from an overhead cabinet that was just out of reach, requiring a little assistance from her wings, she set back to the bathroom to light her candle. The calming combination of rose geranium, bergamot and patchouli filled her bathroom almost instantaneously; the smell reminded her of the one and only time she’d allowed Vaggie to drag her to a day spa for a massage and to get her wings preened.

It was a one-time event because, as it turned out, strangers touching her body made her skin crawl and she couldn’t bring herself to relax, even if the aim was to help relieve years of built-up tension, stress and physical exertion. Getting her wings preened was even worse; the therapist kept running her fingers through all her sensitive spots, which made Lute squirm uncomfortably throughout the entire session. Neither experience was what she would call enjoyable.

The only good thing to come out of that disaster was the candle she’d purchased to reassure Vaggie the day hadn’t totally sucked.

She took another sip of wine and looked back in the mirror, turning to see if she could see any obvious signs of bruising on her body. She pulled the waistband of her leggings down for a better look – ah, there it was, a familiar dark orange patch beginning to bloom directly over her right hip. She leant forward to inspect it further – that was going to be ugly tomorrow – and a repetitive, robotic tune sung from her pocket, breaking her concentration. Probably Vaggie checking in on her, bless her.

Lute dug her hand into her pocket and retrieved her phone, frowning as she checked the caller ID.

Commander Adam.

“Absolutely not.” She hit the red decline button and padded out to her lounge, where she turned her phone off and tossed it onto her couch. Bath time had a strict no-phone policy, and Adam had already ruined enough of her day – she didn’t need him encroaching on her night, too. She shimmied her leggings down her lower half, resting against the arm of her couch to support her body as she bent over and tugged the end of them off her feet.

Clad only in her underwear now – a practical, black, seam-free thong ideal for wearing under workout clothes – Lute headed into her bedroom, where she grabbed the book she was currently reading from her nightstand, closing the door as she turned towards the bathroom. Pausing in the hall to rid herself of her last item of clothing, entered the bathroom, fully naked, shutting the door firmly behind her.

The bath was now full and inviting, bubbles threatening to spill over the edge and onto the white tiled floor, steam visibly rising from its depths and dissipating somewhere just short of the ceiling. Grinning in anticipation, Lute shut the mixer off and turned off the light switch, the flickering flame of the candle providing the only source of light – just enough for her to be able to read. Grabbing her book, she stepped into the hot water, allowing the heat to envelop her completely as she slid down into its warmth, tucking her wings comfortably against her sides.

Sighing contentedly to herself, she opened her paperback up to where she’d dog-eared her page and allowed herself to be fully consumed by the words between the well-loved cover, banishing any thoughts, any feelings, any pain that had arisen from her day out of her mind.

What she was blissfully unaware of was that she hadn’t closed her front door properly.

Or that she’d missed two calls, a voicemail and a text message from her boss.

And that he was on a frantic mission to try and find her.

Right now.

Adam and Lute’s Office, Exorcist Training Centre, Heaven

“You’ve reached Lute. Leave me a message if it’s important.”

“What is the point of having a damn lieutenant,” Adam growled to himself furiously, “if she doesn’t answer her fucking phone when I need her to!” Huffing impatiently, he threw his phone onto his cluttered desk, knocking a ball made entirely of rubber bands onto the floor. Women were always on their phones, why was this one any different?

Because her sole purpose in life is to make everything difficult.

He glowered in the direction of Lute’s spotless desk. This was all her fault. If she hadn’t of approached Sera with her shitty statistics and stupid proposal, he wouldn’t be facing the prospect of a pointless life in less than a year’s time. Sera would have just let Extermination Day continue as it was, and things would stay the same. Stay normal.

And now, he had to figure out a way to coexist peacefully with the she-devil. Pretend to support her ideas. Not lump his paperwork on her. Make small talk with her.

Fuck his life.

“Ribs or wings?” He asked the empty chair. He figured he may as well sound out some practice questions in preparation. “Actually neither, you’d be the type to survive on gross shit like protein shakes and probably don’t know what real food tastes like. Alright…” he cleared his throat. “Uh, what was the last movie that made you laugh? Nah, that one’s dumb, I don’t think you’ve been programmed to laugh or understand humour.” He groaned. “Last one, because I’m starting to feel like a dickhead. Most fuckable member of a band…go!”

Silence.

Adam narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah, you would pick the drummer,” he grumbled, standing up. He reached for his phone and tried calling Lute again. Bitch better pick up, or he’d search every nook and cranny of this complex for her. And once he found her, she’d have hell to pay. Screw the idea of a truce, she was pissing him off now.

“You’ve reached Lute. Leave me a message if it’s important.”

Beep.

“Fucks sake, Lieutenant, pick up your phone!” He hissed. Instead of locking the phone after hanging up, he hit the message icon instead and tapped out a quick text, tongue between his teeth as he concentrated.

Adam: Lt. Call me. That’s an order!!!

He shoved the phone into his pocket and sighed, puffing his cheeks out. Dammit, he really had no other choice but to find her.

If I were her, where would I spend my spare time? No – it could take hours trying to find her. I need a workaround. Someone who would know where she lives.

Adam grinned maniacally, inspiration suddenly kicking in.

“I’m a ge-ni-us,” he sang to himself, taking his phone out once more and tapping on a contact.

“Hello, Adam. Have you calmed down?”

“Me? Pfft. Don’t worry about me Sera, I’m so fine. I’m calling because I really want to apologise to Lute, but she’s not answering her phone. Do you have her apartment number so I can drop by to check on her?” He balled his hand into a fist near his crotch and made an obscene gesture. Check on her, his ass.

Silence.

“Adam.”

“Sera.”

“If I do this in good faith,” her voice was dangerously cool on the other end of the phone, “and I find out that you’ve misused the information I’ve given you, there will be consequences. Understood?”

“Crystal, boss.”

“Her apartment number is 583. I mean it Adam, one more incident from you and I-”

“SweetkaythanksSeraloveyoubossbye!” He quickly hung up the phone before Sera could finish her sentence. He’d deal with the inevitable lecture he’d get for hanging up on her later.

He had a lieutenant to hunt down.

Apartment Block, Exorcist Training Centre, Heaven

It wasn’t often that Adam found himself in a situation that required him to make a mental pros and cons list.

However, Lute had left him in quite the predicament: her apartment door was slightly ajar. Which meant he was likely to find her in there: big pro.

He was also likely to find her in a more hostile state than usual, given the events that had transpired earlier that day: big con.

But, if he went in, he’d be able to propose a truce, which would help ensure the success of the next Extermination: bigger pro.

Also, he could twist his pitch to emphasise that it would make her job easier: another big pro.

Fuck it, that was all the evidence he needed. He was getting impatient. He nudged the door open, expecting a response from inside. Nothing.

“Lieutenant?” Adam called, pushing the door open further and poking his head inside. “You home?”

No answer.

He frowned as he fully entered the apartment, observing the immaculate home in front of him. His colleague lived a truly minimalistic lifestyle – he found it borderline depressing, really. A small TV, two-seater couch and coffee table were all that occupied her living room. No decorative clutter. No prints on the walls. No photos of friends. Clothes on the floor.

He did a double take. Clothes on the floor?!

That… he hadn’t been expecting. Then again, he didn’t take Lute as the type to leave her front door unlocked and open when she was nowhere to be seen.

He strode forward, trying to get his bearings around her apartment based on the trail of her clothes. Crop and socks by the kitchen counter to his left. He walked past the discarded pants next to the couch on his right. A dead end with two closed doors and…something scrunched up on the floor? He bent to take a closer look and bolted upright once he realised what it was.

Her underwear.

Dismayed, he blinked repeatedly at the offending item of clothing on the floor in front of him. This surely had to be some kind of fucked-up fever dream. Because if somebody had told him that during his search for his second-in-command that he’d find himself staring down at her underwear on the floor, he would have thrown them down into the pits of Hell himself.

“Sera must have put some kind of curse on me with her four hundred weird eyes,” he muttered. “This is too messed up to be real.” He took a wide berth, desperate to avoid the offending undergarment, and found himself directly in front of one door, with another to his left. Both were closed.

He tentatively opened the door in front of him, hoping to catch her in bed, asleep. Where else could she possibly be? He knew he’d likely pay for it – she wasn’t likely to enjoy being woken up, least of all by him – but it’d be worth it just to see the sheer panic that would likely cross her face for a brief second before she went off the rails.

However, nothing could have prepared Adam for what was behind that door.

Because, he’d found his lieutenant, alright. In the bathtub, her body illuminated only by candlelight.

Naked.

Adam looked down at her, his eyes widening in horror. Oh no. No, no, no. This wasn’t happening. This was meant to be her bedroom, she was supposed to be asleep and she definitely wasn’t supposed to be fucking NAKED.

He’d opened the wrong fucking door.

“SHIT!”

He clapped his hand over the mouth of his mask, accidentally banging the door completely open in the process, revealing his presence to the wide-eyed angel laying in front of him.

The same wide-eyed angel who, renowned for her reputation as a bloodthirsty killer, had a murderous look in her eyes that he’d never seen before, despite many an excursion down to Hell.

Shit. I’m SO dead.

Lute’s Bathroom, Apartment Block, Exorcist Training Centre, Heaven

“I am going to KILL you!”

The water in her bath had long gone lukewarm, but white-hot heat radiated throughout Lute’s body, starting from her cheeks and spreading rapidly all the way down to her toes. Still seated, she instinctively flung her book to the other side of the room. She desperately grabbed in the direction of her towel with one hand, her other arm pressed tightly against her breasts in a feeble attempt to cover as much skin as possible. She just needed to get this towel around her, sprint to the kitchen, grab the butcher’s knife and-

“Shit!” Adam yelped, turning away from his lieutenant, drawing his golden wings around his middle to protect himself. He hastily began retreating into her lounge, eyes fixed on the front door. At lighting speed, Lute seized her opportunity to stand – an awful squelch filling the room as water sloshed out of the bath onto the floor - and retrieve her towel, hastily wrapping it around her body with one hand, not bothering to dry herself before hurling herself out of the tub towards her superior.

Her wings were weighed down with half of the water from her bath, soaking through her white towel completely so it clung to her like a skin-tight dress. As she ran, enormous puddles of water pooled in her wake, but she didn’t care. Water could be cleaned up anytime.

She had mere moments, however, to violently murder her boss.

With an almighty cry, she launched herself at Adam’s back, still clutching the towel at the top her sternum. Her knee caught him in his lower back, causing him to stumble and trip, face-down onto the carpet of her living room.

“How-” she growled, straddling his upper back with her thighs, knees poking into his armpit, leaning forward so that her free arm curled around the front of his neck, “- the fuck did you get into my house, you disgusting piece of shit?”

“Maybe,” Adam rasped, using both of his hands to pull Lute’s arm away from his windpipe, “you should learn to lock your door, Lieutenant. You left it wide open for all of Heaven to come in and enjoy the show!”

“And you didn’t think it polite to knock?!” she roared. “Or, I don’t know, try calling me first?! What could you possibly want so fucking badly,” she grunted the last word as she squeezed her thighs against his back, bracing herself so she could fend off his hands, which were gradually freeing her elbow from his throat, “that you needed to walk in on me in the fucking bath?! How long were you standing there, perv?!”

Adam groaned in discomfort as her knees dug into his underarms. Lute squeezed harder again as she moved her mouth closer to the side of his head to get close to his ear.

“I am giving you three seconds,” she snarled, ignoring her towel slipping down her chest as she channelled all her energy into closing the gap between her elbow and his neck, “to explain yourself before I choke you to death. I don’t care if Sera casts me down into hell; a life of damnation would be worth it if it meant I got to be the one to end yo-”

Adam’s right hand let go of Lute’s forearm and he braced it on the floor so he could jerk his right shoulder up and over to his left violently, causing Lute to teeter off-balance and fall sideways onto her already bruised hip. She yelped in pain, motionless for a moment and Adam, now free, took advantage of her breather to straddle her thighs, pinning them together with his own. His knees were quickly becoming soaked as he pressed into the wet towel that still clung to her lower body, but he didn’t care. She howled in rage and made to claw at his mask with her free hand before he caught her wrist and held it to the floor above her head, his face only inches above hers. With his other hand, he swiftly untangled Lute’s fist from her towel and brought it up next to her other hand, pinning her down completely.

“Listen here, girlie,” he seethed as she thrashed her legs violently behind him, attempting to use her hips to throw him off. “I didn’t fucking come here to do anything untoward, alright? I needed to talk to you urgently and you weren’t answering your phone. Your door was wide open. What else was I supposed to do?”

“You didn’t notice the trail of clothes on the floor and think I might be otherwise occupied?”

“Oh please, I’ve seen enough thongs to last me an afterlife. Your underwear on the floor wasn’t going to stop me from finding you. Besides, I’d assumed you were in bed, asleep. Hold still you crazy bitch, I need to talk to you.”

“There is nothing you could need to tell me that necessitates coming into my home uninvited - argh.” She arched her back to try and twist herself free, her towel now dangerously close to being rendered completely useless. Frustrated, wet and spent, she let her head drop back against the carpet, her chest heaving with exhaustion. Adam’s eyes flickered downwards, and he grinned devilishly.

“Didn’t realise you gave up so easily, Dangertits.”

“What the fuck did you just call me?!” she hissed. Her cheeks flushed brilliantly as she looked down and realised that he’d snuck a quick look at her cleavage, which was beginning to spill over the top of her towel.

“You heard me, babe. I think that’s what I’ll refer to you as from now on. It really…” he let his gaze trail down to her chest again, before deliberately taking his time to being his eyes back up to hers again, knowing that he was antagonising her now. A wicked gleam etched across his mask. “…suits you. Ready to wave the white flag and hear me out?”

“I’d rather fucking die.”

“Not an option, Lieutenant. Shut up and stop running that filthy mouth of yours for a sec and listen to me. That’s an order.”

Lute glowered at him.

“Let me go.”

Adam snickered. “Not a chance.”

“Now.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“I’ll tell Sera.”

“Tattling again, Lieutenant? That would be twice today. I’ll give you a hot tip, because I’m feeling generous.” He bent his head low against her ear, his forehead pressing against her hair as he whispered into her ear. “I strongly advise you against it. Wouldn’t want the boss thinking you can’t hold your own now, would you?”

Lute shuddered at his closeness – or was the adrenaline starting to wear off and a chill settling in because of the wet towel? It didn’t matter, anyway. He was right. She couldn’t go to Sera again with something like this. It would make her appear weak. Incapable. Not to mention that the whole situation was utterly humiliating, and there was no way she was telling a single soul about what had happened tonight. Not even Vaggie.

“What do you want, then?”

Adam lifted his head back up, so their faces were parallel once more and scoffed.

“Are you kidding me, babe? We’re not having this conversation right now! In case you haven’t noticed, you’re soaking wet – not in a good way, either – and basically naked. We can talk tomorrow morning.”

“Y-you,” Lute gasped, shutting her eyes in disbelief. After all this, he wasn’t even going to tell her. Oh, how she wanted nothing more than to tear him apart, limb by limb. “You asshole. You evil, conniving sonnuva-”

“Nine o’clock. Our office.” Adam released his grip on her wrist and rose to a standing position. He held out his hand to help her up, but Lute swatted it away angrily. He could shove it up his ass, as far she was concerned.

“Don’t be late.” He straightened his robes and headed towards her front door, whistling merrily to himself. Lute pulled herself into a sitting position, readjusting her towel so she was adequately covered once more. She said a silent prayer of thanks that the wetness of the towel meant that it stuck tight to her lower body, ensuring some level of modesty for her during their scrap. She desperately wanted to scream at him, throw something at his head, charge at him again and make him pay for the humiliation she’d just suffered.

But she didn’t. Because, despite wanting to exact her revenge immediately with every fibre of her being, she was overwhelmingly exhausted. At this point, all she had the energy to do was crawl into bed and forget that she’d even woken up this morning.

Adam grinned as he opened the door.

“At ease, Dangertits.” He saluted her mockingly before exiting.

He managed to close the door just in time to hear the TV remote hit the back of the door and clang to the floor.

***

Next time: Lute's suspicious that Adam's trying to poison her.

#hazbin hotel #adam x lute #guardrock #guitarspear #guitarspear fic #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin lute

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corleonecaretaker · 3 months ago

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✦ ℍ𝕚𝕥 𝕄𝕖 ✦

Michael Corleone x Santino D'Antonio, AKA SaintAngel (John Wick Fandom Crossover), 2500 words

This was inspired by a comment from @onconstellationstreetmp3 requesting a sub Michael Corleone fic! I basically read that comment and starting writing it immediately, haha. I don't really know if it's a crack fic or completely earnest, and I don't know if any of the logistical mafia stuff makes sense. But I hope you enjoy.

Summary: Michael Corleone was forced to sign on with the High Table or be destroyed. Now the Table wants a cut of the casino profits, and Santino D'Antonio, the Camorra prince who now outranks the Don, has come to collect. But he's taken an unexpected interest in Michael. Has Don Corleone finally met someone he can't predict or control? Maybe that's exactly what he needs...

TW: smoking, NSFW, under-negotiated BDSM (but no one gets seriously hurt by it), Michael hates himself, slapping and punching, degradation, flashback, crying, attempting to use BDSM as self-harm

Image Sources: One | Two

Santino D’Antonio, head of American operations of the Camorra seat at the High Table. Santino D’Antonio, a prince with a flair for impractical firearms that had a tendency to make jobs go bad. Santino D’Antonio, thorn in Michael Corleone’s side.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you like having me around, Don Corleone.” Sprawled out in Michael’s favorite armchair like it was his, Santi flicked a lighter to his cigarette. It wasn’t even a good brand. Michael’s eyes lingered on it in distaste. A man like Santino could afford something better, even cigars, so why did he smoke that junk anyway? His fashion was immaculate, his guns were the top-of-the-line, but when it came to indulgences, he seemed to like things cheap and dirty. Michael couldn’t understand why.

“I assure you, Mr. D’Antonio, I wish you a swift return to New York.” This was the third day of Santino’s visit to the Corleone family residence in Nevada. It had been a long few days for Michael, constantly on guard, knowing that every moment was a negotiation, no matter how seemingly innocuous. His eyes had remained fixed on Santino at all times until that was all he seemed to see, even when he shut them. He hardly slept for the fear that came with having a High Table emissary on the premises. He was as perfectly groomed as ever, but the dark circles showed nonetheless.

“Then sign.” He had been sent to obtain a contract securing a percentage of earnings from the casinos. Michael was adamant that, because the casinos included legitimate interests, the High Table had no claim to their profits. Only direct drug and mercenary profits were fair game, he argued. But Santino wasn’t having it – wasn’t allowed to give in even if he wanted to, probably. If Michael was under significant pressure to run his family well, he could only imagine what the consequences of failure must be for a D’Antonio heir.

But if that was true, Santino was playing fast and loose with his own life. Every time Michael heard anything about Santino, it was that he’d done something so completely out of pocket that it made even the Don feel downright unsafe. Attacking territory he had no claim to, making calls he didn’t have the authority to make and somehow winning the authority later…but here he was, continuing to cheat death. And try to cheat Michael out of his money.

“The Corleones may be new to the Table, but you don’t get to play stupid. I know a part of the business when I see it.” Santino stood, coming toe to toe with him, their smoke intertwining and shimmering in the amber lamplight. “I know intelligence when I see it, too.”

Michael’s face didn’t budge. “Flattery, Santino? Really?” He reclaimed his chair while he had the opportunity, but it didn’t make him feel any more comfortable. Santino was looming over him now.

“Don’t like it? Maybe I’ll try the opposite. You look horrible. Like you’ll pass out at any second.” A wave of smoke enveloped Michael’s face from above.

Enough. “Do that one more time.”

Santino took a long drag, and obliged.

“Okay. Okay. Come here.” He gestured for Santino to lean down, and when he did, grabbed him by the back of the hair, forcing his head down to whisper uncomfortably close in his ear. “If you want me to be this close with me, you want the Camorra and the Corleones to be this buddy-buddy, you treat me with respect. It’ll be on my terms, on my – “

But Santino was not responding to the power move as expected, not trying to pull away. He seemed to be…leaning into it? He had pushed one knee onto the seat between Michael’s legs and braced a hand to the seatback, right next to his head. And it was Michael who let him go and strained backward into the cushion, suddenly uncomfortable with their proximity.

He waited for Santino to move away and he didn’t. Just put out his cigarette on the ashtray next to them and then placed his hand right next to Michael’s head again, fixing him with a smile and too intense gaze. Michael had to force words out. “What is this? Just what the devil are you playing at?”

“It was you who grabbed me,” he said innocently. “I’m just doing what I’m told, Don Corleone. Doing things on your terms.”

Michael took a deep breath and then a leap. “Let me be very clear, Mr. D’Antonio. I think you’re trying to seduce me into signing and if I’m right, you’re going to pay.”

He tsked and straightened up, one leg still on the armchair between Don Corleone’s. “This is your problem, you think too much. All those hours, with your little cigar in your hand, with your legs crossed in case anything gets in, trying to decide what everybody is playing at and who’s to blame for what, revisiting your worst memories over and over in between worst-case scenarios. I see you all the time. You brood, Michael Corleone.” Santino’s knee rocked forward in a sudden movement that made him pre-emptively wince. But it didn’t even touch him, pulled back just fast enough to be teasing rather than ball-crushing. As the fear withdrew, it left his hairs standing on end.

“I don’t - I do not brood.” Damn it, it was so hard to speak with Santino’s knee shoved between his thighs like that. It came out breathless and petulant.

“You do. I should know, because so do I. But I fixed it. You know what I do when I get that way?”

“…What?” Michael wasn’t sure he’d be able to hear the answer, when his mind was so filled with visions of Santi sitting alone with a cigarette, needing someone. The smoke seemed to be leaking out of the image to cloud the rest of his brain.

He leaned right over Michael to whisper in his ear, an echo of the power move Michael had just attempted and had come to regret. Their chests were touching, Michael realized, and he wished his heart would stop pounding. He wondered if Santino could feel it through both their vests. “I fuck. Until I have no brains left to brood with.”

His hand went to the side of Santino’s waist. To shove him off? Or was this reflex, muscle memory from when girls had leaned over him this way? “I’m not signing.”

At that, Santino lost patience. “This is not about the fucking deal! Don’t sign it then! Let my father and the whole High Table chase you from here to New York and back again!” He reached over Michael’s shoulder to sweep the papers off the desk behind them. “This is about the fact that I’ve been watching you, and you haven’t been touched in at least six months, probably longer by that dead look in your eyes half the time. You want me. So beg.”

Michael’s mind was drawing a blank. All his resolve had gone into resisting Santino on business terms. There was none left for…this. He was just staring up at him, breathing hard. It’s not about the deal…it’s about me…ridiculous. He had to get a grip. “Move your fucking leg,” he managed.

Santino grinned back wickedly. “Move it how? Off?”

Yes. Get off. Right? But he kept not saying anything. The ideas that had just sprung up in his head about Santino grinding forward against him weren’t allowing any air out of his lungs. And with every passing second, he took note of the tension in Santino’s face. He could feel the prince dancing on a razor’s edge, wondering if he’d miscalculated, if he was about to be horribly embarrassed. But he could sense that it wouldn’t make him any less reckless next time if he was. Michael could have shot him for just the proposition – he was that kind of man. He shouldn’t, it would be unwise for the family, but he very well might and Santino knew it. Santino D’Antonio must not care about his own life at all. And that made him a complete wild card, unbelievably dangerous.

Michael’s heart wouldn’t stop racing.

The moment stretched forever. Slowly, very slowly, he shook his head no. There was a flicker of relief that was instantly lost in that wicked smile, which was only growing. “Oh. Not off. Like this, then?” He shifted forward again on his knee, slower this time, until his slacks met Michael’s at the crotch. The contact forced out the shuddering breath that had been trapped inside him. Yes. Like that.

There was the seam of his own fly against the traveler’s crease that bisected Santino’s pantleg. There was his skin, beneath just a few layers of fabric. Michael’s hips rolled upward, hungry.

The move was answered with a slap across the face.

“I asked you a question. I didn’t ask you to hump my leg, you slutty thing. Is this what you want? Yes or no?”

Rage flared through him, chasing the pink that was already flaring up in his stinging cheek. It was that rage that made everything possible, that made him want one or both of them to be pinned down, hit, ridden senseless. Through clenched teeth, “Yes, now fucking give it to me.”

He pushed forward as if to grab Santino by the lapel and knock him down onto the floor, capture his lips and anything else he wanted, but Santino was too quick for him. He shoved Michael back into the seat by the forehead, a hand fisting into his hair until it pulled. “STAY.”

The restraint was so delicious he grabbed for the man’s suitcoat a second time, trying to drag him closer. Again, he was pushed back.

“You need something to occupy your hands, Mikey?” Santino’s fly came down, and there he was, already shining with precum. It was bigger than Michael could have expected, for the size of the arrogant little upstart it was attached to. And it was soft under his fingers. Michael grabbed it like an obedient fucktoy and started pumping. He hated himself for it.

He was stealing this moment for himself. There was nothing in the room but the two of them, their muffled grunts, the very faint squeak of leather on the worn seat of the armchair and the heavy musk starting to pour off both their bodies. There was nothing to sign, no High Table, no Corleones, no obligations. He was alone with Santino. And he was straining against his slacks, flushed scarlet and harder than he’d been in years just from rubbing against his own superior. His hands wandered from Santino’s body to his own fly, seeking relief.

Santino laughed, smacked the back of his hand and put it on his cock again. “No. You’re gonna cum inside your filthy rich suit, Don Corleone. The same kind of suit you wear to all your business functions. The same one I see you in all the damn time, while you pace with your bourbon and pretend not to look at me.” The man loved to talk, clearly. He was getting off on his own words, already gasping against the building pressure inside him.

Michael found himself mesmerized. The way the buildup made Santino’s eyelids flutter and his thighs flex… He’d never watched it from this perspective. Santino was still talking. “You’re gonna cum in your suit, and I’m gonna cum on top of it.” God, he looked hot – that delicate mouth parted, head tipped back and moaning like a woman. His hand twisted in Michael’s hair to the point of pain and it just made him rut harder, god, he couldn’t stop, couldn’t restrain himself… “You’ll be such a mess ah, god, I can’t wait to see you like that…”

“Think carefully about who you’re talking to,” Michael said, but the words meant nothing.

“My bitch. The horniest bitch I’ve ever encountered.” A hard bounce from his knee shot a wave of pleasure straight to Michael’s core, and it must have wrecked his face because Santino laughed. “I like it, you know. It feels perfect, knowing what a mess you are. What you’re like when you let yourself go. You’re – ah fuck. Michael…”

And then suddenly he was covered in Santi’s cum, dripping down his face, onto his lips, warm and sticky and tasting like the summer ocean. There was so much of it. All over his tie, his vest, his hands. He was fairly sure he would have spontaneously combusted if not for the fact that, just when he was at his most desperate for relief, Santino had stopped moving. Michael was half deafened by pleasure but still heard himself groan. For a second, he thought was going to be left like that, a pathetic mess. “Please,” he choked out, hardly realizing what he was saying.

“Please what, baby?” Santino just appraised him for a moment, feeling his cock twitch helplessly against his leg until his own started to stiffen again. If anyone was the horniest bitch, it was Santino. He started moving again.

Michael writhed, desperate for more friction, and it wasn’t working. The lull had taken its toll, allowed reality to come crashing back over him. Just what was he doing? Please what? Why was he begging, for once in his life, and not just taking what he wanted? The disappointment, the failure that he was, the knowledge that he was letting this asshole get the upper hand …it swirled into an endless whirlpool, dragging him down.

“Hit me,” he muttered.

A slap across the face. Good. Fucking good.

“Hit me.” Louder this time.

Another slap swung his head the other way. On top of the previous one, an echoing, dull pain. Suddenly he was on the ground again, being beaten by McCluskey’s men, unable to save himself. He was failing his family. He was failing God. He was losing everyone, everything, and there were long repressed tears of fury stinging the backs of his eyes.

“Hit harder!”

This time he didn’t. “Why? Are you thinking again?” Santino’s head was tilted, like he recognized something, like he saw into the darkness for a second. It scared Michael half to death. Whatever Santi thought he saw, the Don wanted to pummel it out of both of them.

“I SAID HIT ME! HIT ME HARDER!”

A punch, this time. He hit hard enough to knock those tears free, to break something inside of Michael that ordinary people couldn’t break. He felt his face twist up in pain that was only half physical.

And then Santi kissed him. Kissed him like a real lover, sweet and unending, with his arms around Michael’s shoulders. Kissed him with the lingering bite of New York cigarettes and the passion of a velvet tongue. Like he knew what was wrong and how it felt. Like he knew what it took to get to the point at which asking for anything sparked total self-destructive rage. Like he had Michael, really had him. Michael moaned, completely lost in him. “Starai bene [You’ll be okay],” Santi whispered against his lips, still rocking on that knee.

And Don Corleone came inside his filthy rich suit.

#jw godfather crossover #saintangel #michael corleone x santino d'antonio #santino d'antonio #michael corleone #the godfather fanfic #john wick fanfic #wickblr #// smoking

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usetheeauthor · 2 years ago

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⚠️DARK FIC WARNING⚠️

When A Stranger Knocks At Your Door… (MDNI +18)

“Doctor”Emnu x Virgin!NurseNun!Reader

Summary: It’s the night of halloween in your little town and everyone is aware of the rule to stay indoors during demon hours. But when a mysterious doctor arrives to your nunnery looking to assist you with the ill patients, how could you possibly refuse?

DISCLAIMER: THE IMAGES HERE ARE NOT MINE! I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE IMAGES AND IF YOU KNOW THE ARTIST PLS PROVIDE TO ME SO I CAN CREDIT. credits: (above) bottom left image, (below first within story) image

Word Count: 8.0k+

A/N: this is a work of fiction and purely fantasy. real non con is absolutely pure evil. Anyway, i think Enmu is pretty and so underrated. I wish he had more screen time. Ah well, I love writing for underrated characters so here it is. This is a PWP fic with a twist and it will be based in a made up modern town named Wakimashi where it is multiracial with mostly Japanese cultural influence to somewhat remain true to the lore. Some lines for Enmu come directly from the show with some renditions. The images i use are a mix of screen caps from the show and artwork created by some really talented artists who’s work motivated me into creating this. I had some images to pair with the story but tumblr wont show my story in the tags so i guess i’ll make a separate posts with the lines in the story along with the images. I love the dynamic of demon x religious!reader so i did it here. It’s loosely based knowledge on nurse nuns. Please enjoy and thank you for reading!

TW Warnings/Tags: NON CON, DUB CON, violence, blasphemy, some hinted!Rengoku x Reader, religious imagery and undertones, Master kink, reader is called ‘pet’, mentions of murders and death, graphic language, blood kink, blood drinking, somnophilia, (dream) self harm, loss of virginity, tentacle sex, face fucking, oral (m & f receiving), dacryphilia, p in v (unprotected), anal play/anal sex, scratching, biting, creampie, cumflation, hairpulling, sub/dom dynamics, delayed orgasm/orgasm denial, squirting, nipple play, enmu’s BIG dick, monsterfucking, yandere!enmu, enmu’s hand, sex positions (the lazy doggystyle, spooning position, riding), somewhat fluffy towards the end, dilemma/cliffhanger ending

Halloween, it was once called. A holiday all in good fun. Back then, no one felt the need to worry in a town where everyone knows everyone.

But things have since changed.

One night, some years ago, completely changed the meaning of this holiday for future generations to come when a mass of demons passing themselves as humans in costumes would then massacre a total of 50 townsfolk in just under an hour. The only reason there had not been more victims was because an emergency alarm sounded all over town.

The day is now known as “The Devil’s Purge” stemming from the idea that the town of Wakimashi is cursed by God or the Devil himself.

Whenever the fateful night arrives, police stations and hospitals would shut down and people would be encouraged to stay home.

Yet as a nurse, you couldn’t bring yourself to abide by those standards. Especially when there are people out there with no homes and or people in dire need of first aid. So every year, the nunnery where you reside secretly opens to the residents during these times. Food and shelter are provided to anyone who hears of the shelter discreetly through word of mouth since the authorities would shut it down if exposed.

The nunnery would work with the Hashiras, providing first aid in exchange for protection and other assistance.

This year, however, the police were adamant on people staying indoors. So with the prospective thought that the nunnery wouldn’t be expecting many patients or people seeking shelter for the night, a majority of your fellow Sisters decided to board the Mugen Train this morning to do some charity work out of town only leaving you and 1 sister to tend to the 14 refugees.

A certain blonde-headed Hashira with red flamed tips greets you at the door. His smile is big and bright as always, something you’ve always admired about him. Despite facing gruesome situations, the man remained positive. “Y/n! Happy Devil’s Purge! Are you well and prepared?”

“I’m very much so, Mr.Rengoku. I’ve prepared as much as I could. I was just in the process of shutting all the windows in the home.”

“Will you be needing my services for tonight? I can check around the property for you before I go. Or if you’d like I can send a friend of mine over here for your protection. Wouldn’t want you to be all alone in here.”

“No, no. I’ll be okay. Sister Agatha is here as well.”

“Word of advice, do not answer the door for anyone after 6 pm. You are aware that once the sun goes down, the night belongs to them.”

“Then maybe you should stay,” You blurt out, slightly blushing and embarrassed. “I don’t mean to frighten you. But…I experienced a terrible nightmare the night before. I have a scary feeling that there is a reason why the authorities are enforcing stricter lockdowns. It’s as if they’re aware of what the demons plan to do.”

“I’ve got that same feeling.” He says solemnly.

“Please stay,” You take his hands in yours, seeing him blink in surprise at your bold contact. You quickly attempt to pull them away but he holds them in place. Exhaling, you continue to plead. “I get the worrying feeling that…I won’t get to see you again. You don’t have to slay demons all night, every night. Especially not on a day like this. Please…Kyojuro.”

You really worry for him. He is the only man who you have ever known this close in familiarity as the life path you lead expresses limited contact with those of the opposite sex.

Rengoku squeezes your hand. “I can’t stay,” He whispers, leaning in enough for you to feel his breath tickling your nose. “I wish I could. But I’ve made a promise to someone in my life that I will use my strength to protect those that need to be protected. I promise I’ll be fine. So don’t you worry. We’ll meet again. Okay?”

You stare up into his eyes, nodding. “Okay.”

The two of you part and Rengoku gains his happy-go-lucky composure. “I’ve come bearing gifts before I depart,” He whistles and a young boy enters with heavy baggage. “You can set those in the kitchen, friend.”

“What’s that?” You question.

“Bentos! I purchased them from a kind older woman and her granddaughter. You have plenty in case you experience a surplus of residents before sundown.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Rengoku!” You beam.

“Please, you know to call me Kyojuro. And I’d do anything for you, Y/n.” He quickly catches himself, blushing and rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I should be heading off now. My colleague and I will be boarding the Mugen Train.”

“Is it still in service? I was told that my sisters would be boarding the last train.”

“Yes, the train’s been delayed for hours but it seems that it’s running up again. I’ll be on a train with your sisters and protect them to the best of my abilities. I’m sure there will be some demon activity during the ride so it’s good to be one step ahead of them.” He says in a boisterous, rich tone.

“I will keep you in prayer.” You smile.

“Thank you. Well, off we go then! Enjoy the Bentos! They’re delicious!” He grins, waving out. The young Hashira bows his exit then soon follows after.

Locking the door behind you and adding the chain, you continued your preparation shutting the blinds and lighting the various candles throughout the home. You made a note to yourself that once you tended to the residents, that you would go into prayer to calm your nerves.

You spot Sister Nurse, Agatha, fixing some tea and cookies on a tray in the kitchen and you quickly go in to assist.

“The guests will love your cookies, Sister. They’ve always been a fan of your baking. I am, too, of course,” You smile.

“Would you like one? They’re fresh out of the oven.” She says excitedly, handing you a chocolate chip cookie.

You take a bite, moaning at the gooey softness of the confectionery. “Perfect as always. You’ve got to give that recipe,” You noticed her carrying trays on either hand, rushing over to take one. “I’ll carry the tea tray. It looks much too heavy for you to carry this all on your own.”

“Thank you, dear Sister,” She smiles. The two of you silently head up the stairs until she breaks into the empty air. “By the way, you and Rengoku have been spending an awfully close amount of time together…has anything become of it?”

You gasp at her, nearly dropping the tray. “Certainly not, Sister. Whatever you insinuate, I want to clarify that Rengoku is a man of honor as I am a woman of Mother Mary’s holy ward. I shall remain true to my vows of purity.”

“That’s what I was worried you’d say.” She mutters to herself almost as if she’s pitying you.

“Whatever do you mean, Sister?”

“It is nothing, Sister Y/n.”

“Are you saying that you are not…a virgin?” You whisper the last part like a bad word.

“I am a born again virgin. That counts where it matters.” She says, turning up her nose.

“Why, of course. My intentions are never to judge you. I’m simply curious as you are about my status. H-have there been rumors spreading about Rengoku and I? Do the other sisters know of this?”

The two of you reach the large room for the residents. “Nevermind that now, dear Sister. We wouldn’t want our guests to hear you speak such crass things. You take one side of the room, and I, the other.”

You offer the treats, carefully adjust pillows, and give a small blessing prayer to each guest. “Shall I lead tonight's prayer, Sister Agatha?” You question.

Then, you hear a knock on the door downstairs, you, glancing at the sky through the bedroom window. It’s sundown.

“I will lead the prayer, Sister,” Agatha says. “You can go on downstairs and greet the guest in need.”

“B-but Rengoku…he said I shouldn’t answer after sundown.”

“This isn’t our first year doing this, Sister. There’s no need to be afraid. What are the odds of coming in contact with a demon here? I’ve created a ring of salt on our porch for protection. There’s no possible way a demon could set foot past it. Go on, dear child. You don’t want to keep them waiting in the dark.”

“Yes, Sister,” You bow your head before rushing down the stairs. There is another knock again as you take cautious steps towards the door. Unlocking it, you leave the chain on and open it just enough for you to peer through the small crack. “Good evening.”

“Good evening, Sister,” A man says in a syrupy smooth voice that could melt butter. “I am Dr. Enmu. A sister of yours spoke with me earlier on my way home about needing my services here. I believe you possess some sickly patients. I can assure you I’ll do all I can to help them.”

There’s a presence about him that shakes you to the core. Could he be a demon? You’ve never actually seen a demon in person but you were given details from those who’ve encountered them. He’s a little pale, sure, but he seemed human. He’s eerily beautiful as well which didn’t help his case in terms separating him from the otherworldliness.

He has the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen, his black hair was shoulder length aside from the two hanging strips that go past it, and his face was so prettily structured that his beauty was comparable to that of a woman. He looked the part of a doctor, too. A white coat, stethoscope, dress pants and all.

But there was just something about him. This whole situation is suspicious.

“I apologize…but I—“

“Sister Y/n,” Agatha scowls as she approaches you. “I asked for this man to join us this evening. He is a fine doctor and willing to provide his services with no charge. Now, would you please let him in? The storm could be approaching any minute.”

“My apologies.” You say, giving in and stepping aside to let him through.

Maybe if he were a demon, he would have attacked by now. But this man was calm, a small smile never leaving his face. And he didn’t have those distinct markings that the demons usually are said to bear.

“I’m so sorry Dr. Enmu. It appears my dear Sister here is not of sound mind tonight.” She turns her attention to you.

“It is fine, Sister Agatha,” The man says. “Please do not be so hard on the poor girl. She is just being cautious. As we should, in times like these.”

You’re left surprised in his defense of you. There’s clear amusement in the way he looks at you. Like you were some prized collectible item.

“Sister Y/n, I’ll be showing the doctor to our patients.“Why don’t you stay down here and get a quick moment’s rest. I’ll be right with you.” Agatha says to you then turns her attention to the man. “Follow me right this way, Doctor.”

Enmu looks at you one last time and you swear you saw a sinister spark in his eyes before the ascent upstairs. You tremble, wanting to shake this darkened feeling. Getting onto your knees on the carpeted living room floor, you clasp your hands together and pray. “O, Mother. I pray to thee today for your guidance and protection. The enemy is at work and—“

Another knock at the door. You don’t think you could handle another strange encounter. But this was your duty and no matter how hard your heart pounds, you needed to bring yourself out of shock to help others. You pull the door open, revealing a rain-drenched Rengoku.

“Kyojuro…what are you doing here? What happened to boarding the train?”

“I just had to see you once more. Ever since you told me that you were worried you might not see me again…it stuck with me,” His hand cups your cheek. “I want us to be together and safe.”

“R-really? But people are talking about us in town.”

“It doesn’t matter,” He smiles. “I just want you.”

He pulls you into a hug and, at first, you were shocked but you soon melt into his embrace.

“But what about my vows? Your duties? It simply would not allow us to be together.” You whisper.

He lifts your chin. “We can be together as long as we relinquish those parts of us. We could leave town and find our new home.”

You look up at him confused. Earlier, Rengoku stated he made a promise to someone he deeply cared for about protecting others as a Hashira. This is so opposite of him. “Y-you’re cold. Um, would you like some tea? We also have cookies and bentos in abundance.”

“Sounds great!”

The two of you head into the kitchen where you set two tea cups for the two of you. You pour his fill then your own, trying to breath and calm your nerves.

The two of you clasp your hands in prayer and simultaneously bless the food. “Thank you for the meal.”

You raise the teacup to your lips, spotting a reflection of yourself distressed and screaming underwater. Everything clicks.

This isn’t your reality.

In a state of shock, the tea cup slips from your fingers and the glass shatters to the ground. Dream Rengoku raises his eyes from the meal to you.

“Everything alright, Y/n?”

You hyperventilate, smacking your head on each side. “Wake up! Wake up!”

“Y/n, what are you doing?!” Dream Rengoku yells in concern.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to drown out your surroundings. “Wake up!”

—————

In real time, your body is in a sitting position on the living room couch. Everyone in the home was now currently under a deep sleep. All except Sister Agatha who now crawled and begged on her knees, pleading for mercy from the demon.

She whimpers, tears flowing down her cheeks and her face lying down on the ground in submission. “I have fed everyone the cookies baked in your blood. And the Virgin girl is still pure. The Hashira has not bedded her. I’ve confirmed. There are no signs of corruption. Please…I’ve done all you’ve asked of me. I just want to see my baby girl again. I want to hold her in my arms. Please….”

“Certainly,” Enmu smiles, crouching over her bowing frame. “You’ve done a fine job. Now sleep forever and dream of a life with your newborn child.”

Sister Agatha collapses going into a deep slumber. Enmu could just chuckle with joy. This was a lot easier than he expected. But he doesn’t expect much from humans. To him, they are all so pitiful.

Tonight Enmu plans to devour every single human in the home. Although he wishes for a taste of you, he knows he’d be better rewarded if you were given to Muzan instead. He longed to impress his master in hopes of receiving more blood and becoming stronger. Then he’d get to terrorize even more humans.

He looks down at you. You look like a sleeping beauty incarnate. It wouldn’t hurt if he played with you just a little.

Lowering himself in front of you, he circles a sharp nail around your aroused bud, poking through your thin collared top. He twists and rolls it, watching your lips part as you mumble something again and again.

He kisses your neck, feeling your heart beating in it and he all but claims you there. Remembering that his mission was to gift you to Master Munzan, he quickly lurches away from you and presses down on his growing member.

Enmu retreats upstairs to his potential victims. He’ll be dining well tonight.

—————

You rack your head over and over. Dream Rengoku tackles you to the ground, pinning your hands to your chest. “What is wrong with you, Y/n?”

You needed a way out but Dream Rengoku was just as strong. There was no way you could free yourself. Then, you notice the giant glass shards from the tea cup you dropped previously beside your neck.

Were you really going to go through something so dangerously foolish? Well, it is like you had a choice.

You look up at the man above you who seemed genuinely concerned. It felt so real and you could easily get lost in this mimicry.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper before grazing your neck against the sharp edges. It cuts deep, severing an artery. He watches in horror as you begin to choke on your blood and eventually succumb to the wound.

Everything fades to black.

————-

You gasp loudly, eyes shot open as you frantically grip at your neck and check your surroundings. You can hear the roaring of the storm outside. The setting around you no longer had the dreamy filter lenses over your eyes. Everything was cold and gloomy.

This is reality.

Standing on your feet slowly, you spot a body on the floor, nearly screaming until you slap a hand over your mouth. The demon couldn’t know you’re awake just yet. Inspecting the body, you recognized it to be your sister who’d also been slumbering away. Trying to shove her awake, you recognized that she wouldn’t budge awake this way, too far gone.

Searching for a knife in the kitchen to equip yourself, you go up the stairs. Trying to go up as quietly as possible, you remove your shoes and your nylon-covered feet muffles the creaking against the floorboards.

When you reach the top of the stairs, you notice the door to the patients’ room opened half-way. Mustering up the courage, you jump in with your knife raised only to be met with the horror before you. He was drinking the blood of one victim’s arm, straddling their body as they began to turn pale but they’re too deep in their sleep to sense any danger.

You can see that some patrons were still alive, cringing and tossing as if they’re experiencing the worst of nightmares.

You drop the knife, mouth agape as you back away. Enmu hears this, turning to you. He was in full demon form. Greenish-yellow markings lined down his cheeks, veins protruding through his near translucent skin, the lower rank one eye, as well as the black hair highlighted with red and blue tips.

“What’s this? You’re awake?” He asks, baffled but impressed. “Did I not give you a dream tailored to your desires?”

He stalks towards you and you begin to feel for the door. “W-why?”

“That look of anguish and horror on your face is exquisite,” He moans. “Maybe I do prefer that you’re awake for this. I’d love to dine on your fears.”

You let out a shuddery breath, squeezing your eyes like somehow it would rid you of him in your presence.“Mother Mary, if you hear my prayer like you’ve done before. I ask for your protection,” You gasp through tears. “Protect us, dear mother. For there is a demon before me who wishes to take the souls of your people.”

You’re just so intriguing to him that he simply lets you continue in your prayer. Most humans would run by this point but you were standing your ground, praying to a being that would not answer you.

“This being that you pray to…are they all knowing?” He covers a fist over his mouth to stifle his laughter. “Could they tell you of all the things I plan to do to you?”

“I’m not afraid.” You hiss.

“Oh, is that so? The sound of your heart pounding in your chest says otherwise.”

“I am divinely protected. Mother Mary has saved me from your magic and she will save me again. I have nothing to fear. But you do. Free everyone from the spell or you will be facing God’s wrath.”

“But why would I free them…when they are right where they want to be. Everyone wants sweet dreams, my dear pet. Your sister practically sold you to me with no resistance just for a glimpse of a good life.”

You shake your head. “I don’t believe you.”

“How do you think you ended up asleep in the first place? Those cookies weren’t just made out of bitter truths. You humans are so easily swayed by your desires. I recognized this truth when I practiced as a doctor many years ago. Humans don't care for truths. They want to hear things that will make them happy. Blissfully unaware. I’ve had chronically ill patients believing they’ll heal from their ailments. I'd encourage them that they’re cured of their illness even though it was all lies.”

“How could you do something like that?”

“Because believing in fantasy is more powerful and so exciting that it’s easy to see it as reality. They may have died thinking they were healed but they died happily! I give hope as quickly as I can take it away,” He walks over to the bedside of one patient. “This man wishes that he married the one who got away instead of who he’s married to currently. And that woman wants to be young and beautiful again. All of these people, in this room and out, have their own dreams. Dreams that can reveal all your hopes and your fears. It is the central core of all humans. And now I’ve been gifted a power bestowed upon me by my Master to manipulate those cores as I please. To have the delight of watching people as they dream peacefully before their minds shatter into the descent of darkness…it’s like a sweet nectar to me.” He in a dreamy tone, his cheeks a crimson shade of blush.

Your breathing quickens as his tongue circles around his lips to collect the blood on them. “That look of pure agony and anguish on one’s face whenever there’s that sense of danger they have no way of escaping…mmm. It’s like that look on your face now,” He’s closer than ever but as much as your body tells you to run, you knew that his inhuman speed would only give him the advantage. He presses himself against your body. “You excite me, my dear.”

You try to push him, only for him to pin your hands above your head. “Let me go.” You bite.

“Why should I? Hmm? You’ve interrupted my meal,” His teasing, soft voice morphs into a dark growl. “I should punish you for that.”

You feel an unmistakable hardness against your tummy. Your fears aroused him. Enmu could smell it on you the second he arrived. He’d left his mission for the Mugen Train figuring you were a much better catch. Indeed, you were. So much so that Enmu wanted to taste you. The pure blood of a young virgin nun. He wishes he could corrupt you for himself. Make you belong to him instead.

He brings his lips to your tear-stained cheeks, ghosting them over your skin before flicking a tongue up to lick away the salty liquid. Even your tears taste incredible!

You cringe, the scent of blood wafts your nose as he licks away. Then, he suddenly pulls back to stare angrily at you.

“Do you desire that fool?”

You stare up in confusion. “Who?”

“That Hashira,” He spits out as if it were a slur. “Is he who you wish to deflower you?”

“I would never—.”

“Liar,” Enmu hisses. “If he was not who you desired, then you wouldn’t have dreamt of him.” He pinches either side of your cheeks with his thumb and index, forcing you to purse your lips.

He continues in an increasingly dark tone.“I should be the one you lust for. I am the one who could give you all that you ever need,” He’s once again playful in his tone. “If only you’d let the dream continue a little longer, you would’ve gotten to the best part. The part where I force him to watch you take every inch of me. Your poor virgin cunt wouldn’t be able to handle it. He’d watch you stretch and bleed around me. And you’d scream and beg. Both of you, helpless because there’s nothing either of you could do to stop it. Then, I’d kill him and fuck you against his lifeless corpse.”

“No.” You whimper, weakly.

He buries his face in your neck, nuzzling his nose against the thickest vein in your neck. “You don’t have to keep up this charade of yours, Y/n. I know your body. I hear it calling. Every part of you beats for me: from the veins in your neck, the heart in your chest, to the pearl between your legs.” He attempts to cup your pussy but you clamp your thighs together.

“Don’t touch me!”

A red, fleshy entity curls itself around your neck. You begin to claw at, gasping for air. “I can touch you as I please. You’re my pet after all. I tend to make good use of you,” Feeling like you’d had enough, he loosens the grip around your neck. “Would you like to try this again?”

He scans your face and you look at him with fury in your eyes but remain still for him to proceed. His hand cups your pussy and you’re embarrassed to realize that you’re drenched. “I like these games you play, my pet; pretending as if you don’t wish me to be inside you right here, right now. In fact, should I provide you evidence?” A tentacle lift your long white skirt out of the way. Pushing past your pantyhose and panties, his thick fingers rests below your sopping folds. He runs two fingers through them until he makes it to your sticky little nub, tapping on it repeatedly. You bite your lip, feeling your knees buckle under you.

“Just as I thought,” Enmu removes his black polished hands from you, revealing their glistening wet state. You felt humiliated! He hadn’t even gone inside you yet and you’re s puddle. “Your reward, my dear pet.”

He shoves his fingers into your mouth and down your throat, making you gag around them. “Better get used to that. You’ll be taking something a lot bigger. Very soon.” He giggles softly.

Enmu grips the back of your head, forcing you down on his fingers over and over. You were drooling all over yourself, eyes watering from your gag reflex being triggered over and over.

He yanks your mouth away and you end up coughing, slobbering all over your chin as you catch your breath. “Forgive me Father God and Mother Mary,” You whine just before he slams his lips onto yours. His tongue was rather explorative as he swirled it around your mouth. The taste of salty blood on his tongue and lips were enough to make you scream.

You feel his knee apply pressure to your core as he deepens the kiss. Enmu expects you to grind yourself against him which you were adamant on not doing so. He breaks the kiss, a thick line of saliva and blood on your lips. You pray, quietly, against his lips. “Forgive me, Mother Mary, Father God.”

Again, a kiss. And you felt your resistance weaken. “Forgive me…”

Another kiss but this time he pulls away prematurely and you find yourself being the one to lean in, searching for his lips.

“Eager little thing, aren’t we?” He teases, nose rubbing against your own. “Would you like to go further?”

“N-no. I want to keep my vows, my virginity.”

“You and I both know that isn’t going to happen tonight,” He tilts your chin up. “You’ll give yourself to me no matter what your head tells you because your body knows what it craves. Look.” He brings your attention between your bodies, your hips were mindlessly rolling into his for any form of friction.

“I can give you inexplicable pleasure or speechless pain and you’d take it all like the obedient pet you are.” He smirks, pinching your cheeks. The red flesh-like tentacles slither up and coil themselves around your body and between your inner thigh until you feel the pressure of it against your clothed core.

Your eyes look up at him, pleading. “No! It’ll hurt.”

“Don’t fight it or it won’t go in easily,” He cups one breast, kneading it through your shirt while kissing your shoulder. “Your screams are what I sought after anyway. So if you wish to please me, I want to hear you.”

Enmu tears your lacy underwear from your body as if it were made of paper. Your skirt is lifted out of the way once again as the tentacle attempts to squirm its way inside you.

“Please…” You whine and thrash, feeling it trying to force itself in.

“Oh pooh,” He pouts. “I’m not breaking through. You’re simply much too tight. I just might tear you apart if I push any further. We wouldn’t want that, would we? We’ll just have to get you worked up until you're ready.”

You’re forced onto your knees, face inches away from his cock which dares to burst from his pinstriped pants. He frantically makes work of the buckles on them, wanting to feel your frightened little throat close around him.

Enmu frees his freakishly large and veiny member and it springs forward colliding on top of your face. You’d never seen a penis before but you’ve heard stories of women expressing how unappealing most looked.

Enmu’s cock was furthest from that description. Despite being pale, it was girthy and long in length with a bubblegum pink bulbous tip. The thick veins that show through them were enough to make your mouth water for a reason you weren’t sure why.

“That’s going i-inside me?”

“Precisely. But for now, we’ll make use of your pretty mouth. Stick out your tongue,” He orders. You shyly stick out a quarter of it and he huffs. Pinching the tip of your tongue between his fingers, he tugs on it to bring it out further. “There you go.” He smiles.

Tapping the heavy length on your tongue, the tip leaks with his essence and you catch the sticky liquid on your tongue. The taste of him is addicting. He rocks his hips, letting himself slide back and forth on your wet appendage before shoving himself deep into your throat without warning. You gag around him, hands on his thighs to push him off. But the tentacles that kept you pinned down along with his grip in your hair makes you swallow him down and adapt to breathing around the huge length.

The horror of it all was how much you were beginning to enjoy it. The feelings of lust he’s brought upon you are more intense than the guilt you felt. You were sure your juices were currently gushing out of you onto the wooden board.

You should feel terrible that you were doing this in a room of people who came seeking your help from the very being that claims your body and soon virginity tonight. Yet, you suck him earnestly, bobbing your head up and down as you feel your restraint and sanity continue to slip away.

“That’s a good girl,” Enmu moans, petting your head. He also notices your change in behavior. He was right all along. You would eventually give yourself to him and sadly it didn’t take long. “You look like a dream. I could get used to you like this before me.”

One of your hands leaves his thigh to slide between your legs, playing with yourself as you moan around him. The vibrations cause him to whine out.

“For servant of Catholic scripture, you’ve got quite a sinful mouth. Am I turning you into a sexual deviant?” He gets his answer when you wrap a soft hand around his base, stroking him firmly while you continue to swirl your tongue around the tip. You kept your eyes on his bright blue ones the entire time; watching as they would flutter, widen, or bore intensely into yours.

He throws his head back relishing in the way your mouth wants to savor his taste. The blush on his face creeps up and his mouth drops open as he begins to salivate in a state of bliss.

“Master?” You say, ceasing all actions and looking up at him.

His eyes snap to yours, brain short-circuiting for a moment. To think of himself as a master. Like Muzan. It was a tempting fantasy, to say the least. He already has such an obedient pet who’ll serve his needs. “Y-you mean me?”

“Yes, master,” You notice his surprise at your sudden submission, smirking to yourself as you give his tip a kitten lick. “Could you please come in my mouth? I want to taste more of it.”

“How would you like it?” He says, thumb caressing your cheek.

“Fuck my mouth. Please.” You beg, your mouth back around him.

“Such dirty words for a good girl. But I’ll give you what you need,” He growls, fingers gripping the strands of your hair to force you down on him. The sounds of your gagging echo in the room and tears begin to stream down your face. A tentacle presses against your throat, applying pressure to the print of his cock in your throat; feeding then unsheathing over and over.

“Are you ready to receive another reward, my pet?” You stare up at him with starry eyes as an answer. He moans, high-pitched and shaky as you suckle hard to drink him dry. “Oh my, I’m coming!” You dig your nails into his thigh as he does so. He shoots his warm cum into your mouth and you’re swallowing him down joyously.

He cups your face to remove your mouth, lines of saliva break off from his semi-erect cock. You hold out your tongue showing him that you’ve swallowed it all. He smiles down at you through hooded eyes, baring his sharpened teeth. Under the moonlight, shining through the window, Enmu looks absolutely ethereal. Almost God-like himself.

“You’re beautiful.” You whisper to him.

He chuckles. “I can say the same for you, little one. I’m enamored to say the least.”

You kiss his hand, nuzzling your face against it. “I desire you.”

You felt something wet brush your cheek, jolting you enough to inspect his hand which had a sentient mouth. He smirks down at you. “He likes you.”

You place a kiss on its lips lifting your shining eyes to the demon before you. “I desire every part of you.”

He lowers himself to lift you in his arms, carrying you to an empty bed in the room. Once he lays you down so that you’re seated at the edge of the bed, he gets on his knees in front of you. Enmu begins to remove your nylon stockings and skirt and you make haste with your top and bra.

You're fully naked before him and he feasts his eyes all over you. Glistening wet pussy and hardened nipples, you’re like a 5-star meal and he’s a man starved. He groans, hands sliding down your body from your neck to the valley between your breasts then to your mound.

You’re hairy, having never needed to shave because of your faith. Enmu doesn’t mind this. In fact, it turns him on so much more.

He grips the hairs on your mound, pulling them upward to open you up more and expose your swollen clitoris. He just stares at you gushing more of your juices out of you, doing nothing to relieve the ache you felt. You whine, rolling your hips for him to do something.

His free hand comes up to pinch the sensitive nub eliciting a yelp from you. “It’s better than a dream.” He sighs.

He wastes no time, burying his head between your legs. His moans are desperate against your quivering core. His sweet, seductive voice is already enough to make you wet, now added with whininess and you’re flooding tongue.

You tug at his dark hair, grinding yourself against his face. He alternates between sucking and nipping your core with his sharp teeth, looking up at you with those big bright eyes.

“Thank you, master. You make me feel so good,” You mewl. He brings his mouth up to yours, allowing you to taste yourself. You feel yourself already accustomed to the taste of blood, your tongue running along his fangs.

Circling his longest finger around your tight entrance, he forces it causing you to gasp into his mouth at the foreign feeling. “How splendid,” He says. “Could you possibly take another?” You hear the squelch when a second finger enters you, mouth dropping as he begins to pump them slowly.

“Oh, fuuuck.” You whine, capturing his lips in a desperate session of tongues and clashing teeth.

He fucks his fingers into you deeper. “Am I really all you desire? Do you still care for the Hashira?”

“N-no, I only want you.”

“What about your God?” You were getting wetter and wetter by the second, liquids splashing your inner thighs and his fingers.

“I’ve renounced it all. I belong to you.”

“Do you mean this?” He flicks two curved fingers back and forth then swirl them around, thumb toying with your throbbing clit.

“Yes, master! Yes!” You sob. “Please just fuck me. I want your cock.”

Enmu feels a sense of pride at your admittance. He climbs over your body, kissing you roughly and nipping your bottom lip. You could feel his hardening cock sliding through your folds.

“Master…I want to feel your skin on mine.” You whisper, trying to remove his jacket. He watches you, amused by your desperation to feel him against you when moments ago you were pleading for him to stay away.

He figures he should assist you since you were begging to be fucked badly, crying tears of pain from not being filled. So, he quickly discards the reminder of his clothes.

You pull him on top of you, rolling around so that you are the one straddling him. You rest your core over the large tip. “May I please have you this way, master?”

“As you wish.” He says, breathlessly.

You sink down on his length immediately, eyes rolling into the back of your head. You hyperventilate, struggling and wanting to pull away from the intense pressure only for his hands to grip your hips and slam you down fully on his length. Your clitoris, making contact with his pelvis.

“Oh, my god.” Your hand flies up to cover your mouth in shock.

“Mmm, I wish you could see how perfect you look with horror on your face. I could feel the pain coursing through your veins intensifying. Ohh, it feels so good!” He laughs manically, fucking up into your extremely wet pussy. He pounds so deep you can see him poking within your tummy.

“My precious pet. So good. So needy.” He cries. Enmu has no doubt he’s broken the barrier within you. It was like you’d both felt the metaphorical “popping” off your cherry and soon you could smell the faint scent of blood.

You bounce on his cock, fucking him back. Even as the red tendrils slithered up to pin your hands behind your back, your rhythm doesn’t falter. He pulls your head down to look where the two of you neet, his thick trunk of a cock ramming into your swollen pussy which is now coated in a mixture of your arousal and blood.

“This means I own you now.” He beams and it almost appears as if he meant it out of love.

“Thank you, Master Enmu. I’m so grateful you’ve chosen me.” You pant.

He sits up, sucking a hardened nipple into his mouth then spanks your asscheek and you moan out his name. “We make a great pair, dear. I like to inflict pain and you like receiving it like a good little whore. I almost feel terrible ever thinking of offering you.”

“I’m yours. Only yours, Enmu.” You kiss him, sucking on his tongue and bobbing your head the way you would with his cock. You release his hand collides with another of your soft, plush globes.

“You just taste so sweet,” He whispers against the valley between your breasts. “Something I never could’ve imagined.”

His nails dig into your ass, scratching and separating them. Then, you feel something wiggle in the entrance of your puckered hole. “Relax and it shouldn’t hurt too much.”

A tentacle feeds itself into your ass and you cry out, biting into his shoulder which makes him cry out in delight. He just as much liked pain inflicted upon him, too.

Your nails dig into his back as he wriggles even more of it inside of you, stretching you. You felt so full, eyes crossed as he began to fuck you in both holes. His lips purse around your pebbled nipples again and it furthers your arousal as you cream around his cock.

“You’re sooo huge!” You whine, practically drooling on him.

Enmu rams into you over and over, the tip of his cock pistons for the soft trigger within you repeatedly. He alternates the motions so that whenever his cock goes in the tentacle would go out then vice versa and sometimes they’d pound into you at the same time and rhythm.

You’ve never experienced an orgasm but you were sure this one will possibly break your mind. Yet, you still chase it. Your hand slides in between your bodies to rub yourself when another set of tentacles take your hands again and pin them behind you.

“You don’t get to cum yet. Not until I know you’ve surrendered yourself to me fully.” He drives deeper into your cunt in time with the tentacle in your ass.

“Hnnngh.” You groan, only the whites of your eyes are shown.

All movement stops and he’s pulling out of you. You whine but soon find yourself being lifted like a feather and placed on your stomach. Your face is planted into the pillow beneath you. Without much preparation, he’s pounding into you again the sounds of your ass colliding with his pelvis sounding in the room.

“Fuck! Enmu, you’re so fucking good.” You’re crying into the pillow, the squelching and shlucking noises of your pussy around him drives you to madness.

He grunts above you, indulging in your constricting walls. Enmu knew at that moment he couldn’t possibly give you away to him. Especially not after the feelings you are making him feel when he’s never been the type to care for sex this badly.

You dig your nails into his hands, the sentient mouth biting down on your fingers. Enmu’s sweaty hair falls over his face as he fucks you into the mattress with deep, long strokes. The bed creaks under you, headboard banging loudly against the wall in competition with your screams.

A tentacle tugs your hair forcing your face to the side and brings itself to your mouth to suck on. You happily suck on it and the way he’s moaning lets you know that he’s feeling it as if you were sucking his cock.

He turns you both to the side, spooning you from behind and you can tell that he’s close by frantically he’s rutting into your suctioning core. Enmu brings your leg back, hooking it around his waist so that your clit is exposed, allowing the tentacle to suction on your clitioris. The tentacle has a tongue-like appendage that laps away at the sensitive bud as well.

“I’m close. I can feel it, Master. Oh, please can I cum? I’ve been so good!”

“Once, you cum. That means I officially own you, my dear. You’ll do everything I say from now on.”

“Whatever you want, master. I’ll obey,” You bring your hand to cup the back of his neck, forcing his lips onto yours. Your tongues fighting for dominance. “I want your cum, master. Own me. Own my pussy.”

“Ohhh baby…” He moans, feeling the familiar build up.

With your face turned up, you look over your shoulder keeping your face near his face as it hovers. The two of you breathe each other’s air, swallowing down every moan and sob as you stare intensely. His hands play across your stomach then press down on the bulge and your vision goes white.

In a silent scream, you spray your juices on his cock and all over him. At that moment, he bites into your neck and the feeling intensifies. You tighten around him like a vice and he’s cumming deep into you. His essence feels hot as it rages through you, painting as deep as it could and pushing past your cervix and it fills you to the brim. You felt so full inside you were sure that his cum made your stomach bloat a little in the process.

You moan out, feeling yourself lightheaded as he drinks your blood. All you could do is grip his hair for reality and that it’ll be over soon.

You go limp when he finally releases your neck, hitting into you one last time and playing with your clit and you were coming again and hard; despite your low energy. You’re shocked by how it was possible to do so. It felt so sudden yet here you were weeping and gasping on his cock.

You’re screaming again as the tentacle has no mercy, playing with your overly sensitive clit. You can hear horrifying screams outside in the night mixing in with your blissed out ones. Your eyes searching the room as you see the patients writhe in their beds still terrorized by his spell.

“Enmu, please…set them fr—Oh goddd,” You cry out, the pleasure is too intense to even concern yourself with the horrors that surround you.

“That’s right, pet,” Enmu teases, cock wreaking through you. “Let’s compete with those screams! While they’re experiencing their nightmares, you to live out your wildest dreams. It’s exquisitely beautiful.”

“Fuuuc—Ohhhh mmuhg.”You can hardly for words, twitching against him and eyes glossed over. The neverending orgasm finally ends and you now lay boneless, officially corrupted.

He kisses your neck, chest flushed against you. You wanted to cover your ears and block out the screams but you couldn’t move. You couldn’t even bring yourself to remove his cock from inside you. It didn’t seem like he wanted to slip out of you either, curling an arm around your waist.

“You’re mine forever,” He nuzzles against you. “That is our deal until the very end.”

“Yes, Master.” You say squeezing your walls around him and earning a guttural moan from him.

“Good girl. We’ll be getting you cleaned up once you gain your movements. You’re coming back home with me.” He rubs your stomach.

“M-master…is it possible that you could free these people? No more casualties need to happen tonight. You’ve fed on me. Am I not enough? I beg you. Release them.”

He pokes your cheek, playfully. “You’re much too kind for your own good. Tell you what…I’ll free these people… in exchange for the Hashira’s blood.”

You stare up at him in horror. “No! I—“

“This should be an easy choice. Must I remind you that you are the one who said you didn’t care for him anymore? So what’ll it be, my pet?” He smiles down at you wickedly and it was at that point you’re reminded exactly why he’s considered a demon.

@whisperinghallwaysofmirrors

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