#plans made but chaos reigns

[bronzebluemind]

It’s been 0 weeks since the World Cup finale, 17 weeks to go until sgp and 34 weeks to go until next season.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— I'm never babysittin' again!

Thanks to the anon who requested this one, I've been working on this since I got in and fun fact, I've had no sleep whatsoever, so definitely gonna regret that at work later...

Anyways, I am working through other requests and stuff. If anyone has anymore, let me know. Always willing to write stuff within reason.

Also, massive thanks to @alotofpockets who helped me come up with some of the idea's to add in.

pairings: kim little x reader, leah williamson x reader, arsenal wfc x reader

summary: readers' a menance on the trip to melbourne along with her partner in crime, kyra, and poor kimmy's almost having a nervous breakdown over it, so she has to call in reinforcements back home in london.

"I'm bored," You let out an exagerated sigh and kicked your legs back and forth as you had been forced to sit on one of the seats in the secluded lounge area as you had to wait for your flight to board.

You were partaking in a friendly game in Melbourne with the rest of your Arsenal team mates against an A-League team, you had been so excited about this ever since you found out that you'd made the squad.

"How much longer?" You can't help but be bored, being forced to sit in an airport certainly wasn't your idea of fun, neither was being stuck under the watchful eye of your Captain either.

You swear that the club, and Leah in particular, had planned this on purpose.

It's like they knew already, somehow.

You wouldn't call yourself a troublemaker, persay, buts' what fun is life without causing a little mischeif, sometimes?

Apparently, the rest of the older girls' didn't have the same thoughts about it.

At least you had Kyra on your side to involve her in the chaos, the girl was a bit older than you but she was your partner in crime, you two always fun causing mischief together.

"It won't be too much longer, Y/N. Just be patient," Kim, your captain and unoffical babysitter for the trip, tries to reassure you, but never the less, you just feel further restless.

In your defence, you can't help the boundless energy you have inside of you, its' like your body feels like lightening bolts are itching to strike and you just want to be up and racing about.

The confides of the hard plastic seat make it difficult to do that though.

"But I'm bored, Kim," You repeat in a whiny tone of voice, throwing your head back in frustration. "Nobodys' letting me have fun around here!"

"There's a difference between fun and trouble kid," Steph, another one of your team mates, chimes in, amused by your antics.

"It won't be too much longer now, Y/N. I'm sure you can wait just that little bit longer," Kim states, although her patience is wearing thin.

It hadn't even been 24 hours yet, and the Scottish women was already on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

"Are you excited to be going to Melbourne, kid?" Steph wonders, trying to keep your mind occupied for the time being, already being able to see how fidgty you have become, "It's a cool place, you're gonna love it!" She adds.

"Uh huh. I'm excited-- Oh wait, I still need sweets for the light!" You suddenly realise, attempting to make a break for it when you can.

Kim shakes her head in disagreement, "Its' too late now, Y/N. We're going to boarding the flight soon," She interjects, trying to reign you in.

"Yeah, and you definitely don't need anymore sugar because you're already hyper enogugh," Steph adds in, which you respond to her with a pout.

"Aw, man. Leah would let me if she was here," You try and protest, however, your words are very much incorrect and of course the rest of the girls aren't stupid enough to believe that either.

You know that Leah, if she was here, would most definitely not allow you to have sugar at all.

In fact, she'd purposely try and make ham sandwiches in an attempt to steer you from even going in the direction of the shop.

"No she wouldn't," Katie, one of the older girls on the team comments as she passes by.

"Yeah, we all know what you're like without sugar. You don't need any of it,Titch," Caitlin, one of the Aussie girls on your team, adds in.

You huff in further protest, your bordem is slowly persisting and it feels like you've been waiting for the flight to board for ages.

Desperately trying to find something to occupy your time, your eyes gaze upon the several dogs' lined up near the barriers to get through security.

"Bingo," You think to yourself as your eyes' light up in delight, wasting no time to jump up from your seat and dart in the direction of the dogs.

All you want to do is pet them. They look adorable in your opinion.

Before anyone could even stop you, you'd already successfully made it halfway across the terminal in the direction, however, the annoucement of the flight to boarding to Melbourne had gotten Kims' attention now.

"Right, our flights been called. See Y/N? I told you it wouldn't be that long," Kim spoke aloud, not realising that you'd somehow managed to wander off in the time that she'd turned round to speak to Steph, "Where's Y/N gone?!" She questions, her eyes widen in panic when she doesn't see you in her eyesight.

"Look's like she went to pet the dogs," Kyra snickers, amused with your antics, and although she should try and stop you, she wanted to see how far you would succeed with your little adventure.

"She wants to make friends with them," Teyah joins in, just as amused as she watches the scene unfold.

"And neither of you tried to stop her? You know what she's like!" Kim shakes her head in disbelief and her eyes' almost buldge out of her sockets when she spots you nearing the dogs, "Oh, God-- Y/F/N!"

"You might wanna grab her before she gets' her arm ripped off, Kim," Katie jokes, watching in amusement.

"Unbelieveable," Kim mutters to herself as she races' quicker than ever in the direction of you.

Unfortunately before you'd made it nearer to the dogs, you feel a firm grip on your upper bicep that's starting to tug you back forcefully.

You spin round and are met with your Captains' stern face, "Kim!" You whine in protest while trying to wriggle free from her grasp.

"What an earth are you doing, Y/N? You can't pet the dogs!" Kim scolds you, remaining to still have your hand on you tightly to not allow you to run off again. "Come on, we need to board the flight," She adds, sternly.

"But the dogs though. They're adorable!" You pout in further protest, not happy about being pulled away before you even had chance to pet them.

"Mhm, as adorable as they look, they're patrol dogs and they have a job to do here," Kim remarks sarcastically, dragging you back in the direction of your team mates so you can board the flight.

"Maybe you need to invest in a leash for her," Alessia, another one of your team mates pipes in as she watches you be reluctantly dragged back to the group of girls while Kims' already rubbing her temples in dispare ahead of the flight before its' even taken off.

"Pst, Kyra," You nudge the older girl not so gently to wake her up, having been bored on the flight while the rest of the girls seem to be asleep or doing their own thing, "Wanna play a prank on some of the others?" You question, mischeviously.

So far the flight to Melbourne hadn't been that adventurous, somehow through luck though you managed to be able to sit next to your partner in crime.

It was great for you, however, not so much for Kim, whos' been frazzled and trying to keep things under control the whole time on the flight.

"Absolutely," Kyra grins in respose as theres' a matching mischevious twinkle in her eye, "What'd you have in mind?" She wonders, curiously.

You grin and proceed to pull out a whoopee cushion from your carry-on, "Well, we could start with this?" You suggest in a quiet whisper, to not get the attention of Kim, whos' got her head buried in a book at the moment.

"Genius!" Kyra's eyes light up in glee, "Whos' our first target?" She questions.

"Caitlins' dozzing off," You gesture in the direction where Caitlins' half in and out of sleep.

You and Kyra both share a look before the older girl sneaks over to Caitlin and slips the whoopie cushion underneath the older Australians' seat.

"Show time," You smirk as you wait for her to sit on it.

Caitlin wakes up startled when it suddenly goes off and she looks around confused, "What the--?"

The pair of you can't help but giggle uncontrollably.

"Y/N, Kyra," Kim catches onto your troublemaker ways and narrows her eyebrow, "Behave!"

"What? We didn't do anything!" You feign your innocence, holding your hands up in protest.

"Let's move on to Steph," Kyra encourages you to continue with your pranks.

"Yeah, good shout," You nod in agreement and find the packet of gummy worms in your bag, you could easily eat them but pranking the Aussie women was more worth it. "Lets' put these in her bag. She'll totally freak out!" You add in.

Kyra eagerly accepts the packet of sweets and sneaks over to Stephs' seat, cautiosly depositing the gummy worms in her open backpack, "Done. Now we just need to wait for her to go in there--"

"Ah! What the hell?" If Stephs' facial expression is anything to go by then you guess Stephs' found them already, "Y/N! Kyra!"

"It weren't us," Kyra plays it off and shrugs her shoulders.

"Yeah, you have no proof," You give the girl a smug grin.

The older Australian women shakes her head in annoyance, "Pests. You're both a pair of pests, honestly," She mutters aloud.

"You two are something else," Katie overhears the commotion and shakes her head.

"Dare I ask what you pair did now?" Alessia questions, joining in as she overhears the noise from her fellow team mate.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about, we're just havin' a bit of fun," You still continue to act innocent, although you personally don't understand what the fuss is about when you're contained in a metal box with no escape.

You need to entertain yourself, somehow.

Pranking your team mates is the perfect opportunity.

"Hey, Alessia! Do you like spiders?" Kyra smirk mischeviously, already ahead of the plans for another prank at the expense of the older blonde girl, who you both know has a bad fear for them.

"No, not really-- Ah!" Alessia shrieks loudly when you toss a fake spider in her direction, doing no more than jumping up onto her seat before she realises a fake plastic one and is now glaring at you, "Y/N! Kyra!" She yells, annoyed with you both.

"That's enough!" Kim shoots up from her seat, giving you both a pointed look. "Both of you, sit down and behave!" She bellows.

"Yes, ma'am," You pretend to be serious and move back to your seat.

Kyra gives your Captain a mock salute and continues to follow suit, "Aye aye, Captain!" She jokes with her.

"I don't want to hear anything more from the pair of you for the rest of this flight," Kim warns you both before she returns to reading her book.

"Pst, Y/N," It's Kyra's turn to nudge you know with a knowing look on her face, "We should try and see if we can balance peanuts on Frida's head while she's asleep," she suggests the idea to you.

Never being the one to turn down a challenge, you smirk and nod your head in agreement, "You're on. That'll be easy!" You insist.

With the task in hand, you both lean across your seats' and carefully begin to place peanuts on Frida's head, one by one.

"Wow. I didn't think this would actually work," You whisper in amazement and try to stifle your giggling, however, thats' not going to plan when Frida wakes up and the peanuts' fly everywhere.

"What..." Frida looks completely baffled, while you and Kyra still continue to hold back your laughter even more.

You can't hold it in much longer before you end up bursting out in laughter, "That... That was great!" You state in amusement.

"Y/F/N! Kyra! I swear, if you don't behave then I'll have the captain come talk to you!" Kim chides, feeling like she's ready to blow with the mishchief that you pair have caused. "I mean it when I say no more trouble from either of you for the rest of this entire flight, understood?"

You still can't help but laugh out loud at the misfortune of Frida wearing half a bag of peanuts on her head, "Someons' salty. Get it, cos' they were salted peanuts!" You crack up into more laughter.

"I mean it, Y/N. I will get the captain, or when we get to Melbourne, I'll have no problem in telling Leah all the antics you got up to," Kim threatens you and your face pales immediately.

Sure, the captain of the plane might be terrifying, but your blonde vice-captain was someone you definitely did not want to be in hot water with.

Unforuntately, you seemed to find yourself on the end of stern lecture with her one too many times.

"Okay, okay. I'll stop, I'll behave-- Don't phone her!" Your quick to plead with your Captain, really not wanting her to make that call.

Kyra nods but she keeps her fingers crossed behind her back, "Yeah, we'll be good," She states.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Steph mutters, shaking her head.

Caitlin nods in agreement with the older Aussie girl, "Them pair are magnets for trouble," She remarks.

It wasn't long before you had arrived in Melbourne, when your flair for trouble is encouraged once again by Kyra and the pair of you can't resist goofing off inside the gym.

"Kimmy!" You all but plow yourself on the older women, whos' peacefully minding her own business on one of the massage tables until you came at her like a full whirlwind.

Somehow, Kyra decides to get the idea to improvise giving your Captain chest compressions or something along the lines of what it looks like.

Also, trying to encourage you to hang of the pull up bar with the overshadowing of a bet on the tables.

You have always loved to bet on things. Your not turning down this opportunity.

"Kimmy! Kyra' reckons I can't hang off the pull up bar. Watch this!" You tattle, before you make your way over to the bar.

"Y/N, no. You'll hurt yourself!" Kim's quick to bolt up from the table to stop you from attempting to break your leg with your attempt to hang upside down on the pull up bar.

Kyra giggles mischeviously and watches as Kim almost has a near heart attack watching the trouble unfold, "Nah, Y/N. You've gotta do it like this!" With that, she pulls herself up onto the bar and flips herself over so she's dangling upside down.

"The pair of you get down before you get hurt!" Kim chides, trying to keep a stern facade when dealing with the pair of you. "Y/N, I'm serious. Get down!" She repeats, trying to reason with your chaotic antics.

"Your no fun. I only wanted to swing from the bar like a monkey," You huff in protest and begrudingly get off the bar to save your Captain from having an annuerysm.

Unfortunately for the older girl, your trouble doesn't seem to stop for too long and between you and Kyra, you had managed to mismatch everyones' boots when they were mostly preoccupied.

"Why do my boots' feel different?" Katies' the first one to realise as she looks at them in confusion, "These aren't mine," She notes.

Caitlins' just as quick to realise her own pair are missing, "Hey, who took my boots?" She questions.

"Seriously, guys?" Steph huffs, holding up two different sized boots in each of her hands.

Kim spins' round to look at you and Kyra, "Girls, did you do this?" She asks, her voice sounding calm, which is weary in itself.

"Who, us? Never!" You can't help but grin, which is a dead giveaway from your latest shenanigans.

"Yeah, we were just standing here," Kyra feigns her innocence and holds her hands up in mock surrender.

Alessia can't help but laugh and shake her head, "I bet it was you two. Your always up to something," She states.

"Maybe," You let out a small giggle.

Kim exhales a sigh at your antics, "Just switch them back. We need to start training soon!" She tells you both, sternly.

"Yes, ma'am," You joke and pretend to be serious with your Captain.

"Right away, Captain," Kyra gives Kim another mock salute as the pair of you set the boots to the right players.

"Why do I put up with this?" Kim mutters to herself, although its' loud enough to be heard from a few of the girls.

"Remember what Less said about needing a leash for Y/N," Steph chimes in, reminding the Scottish women about the idea.

"At this point, I'm actually considering it," Kim remarks, already having thoughts about it.

"Hey, I'm not a dog!" You overhear the conversation and shout in protest.

"Ha, could you imagine? Y/N on a leash at training," Katie snickers in amusement and shakes her head, "That'd be hilarious!"

"Might actually be a good idea," Vic, another one of the girls on the team, chips in.

"I'm deeply hurt by this suggestion!" You still continue to act offended.

"You know its' true, Y/N/N," Caitlin laughs at your own expense, going to take a sip of her water but pulls away with the frown when there's a revolting taste from it, "Ew, why does my water taste horrible?" She asks, confused.

"Oh God," Steph exhales a sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose, "Kyra, Y/N, what have you done now?" She questions, glancing in both of your directions.

"Oh no, we must've got the bottles all in a pickle," Kyra smirks and gives the clue away as you both share a look with one another.

You can't help but burst out into laughter again, meanwhile Kims' slowly rubbing her temples and trying to refrain calm over the situation.

"Right, that's it, Y/N-- I'm callin' Leah. I've had enough of your troublemaker ways!" Your Captain states in outrage, shaking her head.

You freeze in your tracks and immediatly start to shake your head in protest, "No, no, please, Kim... Please, don't do that!" You plead with her.

"One more chance," Kim warns, firmly. "One more slip up and I'm phoning her!" She adds, shaking her head and questioning her life decisions on how she got stuck babysitting the kids (the untrustworthy and non responsible young adults) for this trip.

Better yet, the younger girls' that had joined them on the trip were better behaved than you were at times.

Having this be your first time in Melbourne, let alone Australia, you were keen to explore and when the prospect of a trip to the zoo was on the tables, you were more than ecstatic to visit there and see all of the animals.

Ever since Kims' threat to phone Leah back home in London, you been trying to remain on your best behaviour. You really didn't want to be in trouble with the blonde again, so you'd done your best to avoid your troublemaker partner.

However, that is easier said than done sometimes.

"Wow," You spoke aloud in amazement as you walk through the entrance of the Melbourne zoo, with the rest of your team mates in tow, keen to see as many of the animals as possible.

"Stay close, Y/N. I don't want to loose you," Kim warns, already thinking ahead of your disappearing act in the airport previous to this.

"I want to see the Koalas," You huff in protest and try to figure out a way to get away from them.

"You will, there'll be plenty of time for that. You just need to be patient," Kim reassures you, although her patience is way past the point of calm.

"Come with me, Y/N. I'll show you where they are," Kyra offers the opportunity for you to sneak away from the rest of the girls in the search for the animal you want to see.

"Okay," You don't think twice before being led astray by the older girl once again and make your way to the enclosure where they are, "Wow, they're so cool!" You stare at them in amazement.

"Aren't they just?" Kyra murmers, looking at them.

"Hey, I have an idea," There's a twinkle of mischief in your eye again as you look at the older Australian girl, "Bet you can't get a selfie with one of them!"

"Oh, yeah? You're on!" Kyra isn't one to back down from the challenge, completely missing the 'no entry' sign in clear view, she creeps towards one of them and you get your phone out and hold it up ready to take the photo.

"Hey! What're you doing?" The loud voice of a zookeeper startles you both, almost causing you to drop your phone in the midst of it all, "You can't be in here!" They shout.

Without any hesistation, you both are quick to make an escape from there and scramble back over the railing.

Back with the rest of the girls, its' dawned on them that they've one again lost you both as they begin to search around for you.

"Y/N?" Kim shouts aloud.

"Kyra?" Steph and Caitlin both call out for the younger Aussie girl.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Katie chimes in, jokingly.

Alessia exhales a sigh and shakes her head, "How can they wonder off again without us realising?" She wonders.

Steph looks around and spots you both near the kaolo enclosure, "Oh boy," She mutters to herself.

"You might really need to invest in that leash after all, you know, Kim," Vic chips in, amusedly.

"I'm staring to think so too," Kim remarks, exhaling a sigh.

"I knew you'd come around," Alessia jokes, overhearing the conversation.

"There you both are!" Kim strides over with a stern expression, taking a hold of your upper bicep again. "That's it, that's the final straw. I'm calling Leah!" She states, already having made her mind up.

"It's not just me, its' Kyra too," Your quick to throw the older girl under the bus in protest.

"Hey!" Kyra whines in protest.

"You're meant to be setting an example, Kyra!" Caitlin scolds the younger Australian girl.

"You're older than Y/N, Kyra. You should know better!" Steph chimes in.

You can't help but smirk in satisfaction that you're not being scolded for once, "Can we go see the kangaroos now?" You question, innocently.

"Don't look to happy yet, Y/N. I'm still calling Leah when we're back at the hotel and telling her how much trouble you've caused over the last 24 hours," Kim remarks, which causes you to furrow your eyebrows. "And until then, I want you right by my side for the remainder of time that we're here so I know where you are!"

"Sit," Kim orders straight away as you follow her into her hotel lobby and begins to dial Leahs' number on her phone as she paces the floor back and forth, "Come on, pick up, pick up," She murmers as she waits for the response on the other end of the line, despite the time that it might be.

You can't help but sit there and hope that Leah doesn't answer, because you really knew you'd done it now to be in trouble, yet again.

"Hey Kim!" Leahs' voice answers on the other end of the phone, connecting the video call to where it looked like she was in gym surrounded with the rest of the girls back in London.

"Hi, Kimmy!" Beth pops her head in the video call and waves at her Captain. "Hows' Australia?" She wonders.

"It's a disaster, girls! I can't take it anymore!" Kim tells them frantically.

Leah looks immediately concerned as her eyebrows knit together, "Whoa, what's the matter?" She asks, confused.

"You look like you're about to have a nervous breakdown there, Kimmy," Beth jokes, seeing the exasperated look on the older women's face. "What's up?" She asks.

"Y/N and Kyra! Between them, they're both driving me insane!" Your Captain admits out loud, and you try to slump down in your seat to try and hide from the telling off that you know is iminant when Leah finds out what's been going on.

By this point, all the girls' in the gym have decided to surround Leahs' phone to find out about yours and Kyra's antics.

"Uh oh," Viv murmers, shaking her head. "What've they done?" She asks.

"I think its' more like what haven't they done," Beth jokes, trying to keep the mood light in the room.

Kim shakes her head and settles on the bed, trying to keep her attention between you and the phone call, "Leah, its' like Y/N is out to be a complete menace this trip," She pauses as she glances at you to make sure you're not doing anything you shouldn't be. "Together they've done nothing but cause trouble, from switching everyones' boots during training and putting pickle juice in the water bottles, and causing trouble on the plane with their pranks and don't even get me started about the airport either!"

"Wait, someone actually drank the pickle juice?" Manu looks considerably confused at the mention of the pickle juice in patricular.

"That doesn't sound good," Stina comments, laughing.

Laia smirks in amusement, "I can't believe it," She states.

"What happened at the airport?" Lia asks, curiously.

"Well lets' just say that Y/N wanted to go over and pet the friendly dogs," Kim remarks sarcastically, shaking her head.

Beth snorts in realisation, "The friendly dogs? You mean the patrol dogs-- Oh dear," She shakes her head in utter disbelief.

"I feel like I'm at my wits end with them both. We couldn't even go the zoo without them wandering off and getting into trouble, Alessia even suggested that I get a leash for Y/N and I'm half tempted!" Kim rambles to them over the phone, ready to pull her hair out after dealing with both you and Kyra for the last god-knows how many hours.

"I knew I should've come on this trip, Y/N's always a handful, but this sounds like its' too much," Leah exhales a sigh and bites her bottom lip. "Is she there with you now?" She asks.

"Shes' right here," Kim nods in agreement with the blonde, panning the camera to face you. 

"Hi Leah," You wave innocently at the blonde, hoping that she'll go easier on you.

It's needless to say that the blonde looks that impressed.

"Where's Kyra?" Viv questions, arching an eyebrow as she doesn't spot your counter part in the room.

"With Steph and Caitlin, I needed to seperate the pair of them. They're talking to her about this, but feel free to call in as well," Kim tells the Dutch.

"I'll call her afterwards. Can't her go anywhere unsupervised," Viv states, shaking her head in disappointment.

"You're doing great, Kimmy. Just a few more days!" Beth chimes in, trying to keep your Captain in high spirits. "Hang in there!"

Kim shakes her head in protest, "I'm never babysitting again! I'm gonna need a holiday after this-- I'm getting grey hair! I thought Y/N was bad on her own, but she's even worse when Kyra's with her!" She exclaims to the  girls.

Leah exhales a sigh, feeling for the older women as she pinches the bridge of her nose, "Right, okay. Put Y/N on Kim. Maybe I can get through to her," You can tell that the blondes' trying to remain calm and collective, but she feels annoyed at your behaviour still.

"Please do," Kim murmers, feeling relieved as she turns to look in your direction. "Y/N, come and talk to Leah!" She calls over.

"Uh no, no... I'm alright actually, I think I'll just--" You try and back out of talking to her, not ready for the confronation from the blonde.

"Over here, Y/F/N!" You hear Leah call you out directly and you inwardly curse, having no choice but to do as your told for once, waiting to speak again when you were in front of the camera, "What the hell are you playing at, kid?" She cuts straight to the point with a tone of voice, which makes you want to shrink onto the floor.

"Nothing, I'm just having a bit of fun..." You try and come across as innocent, hopeful that it'll cut out some of the lecture, "Hows' London? I miss you!" You add.

"Cut the bullshit, Y/N," Leah scoffs and shakes her head. "Listen, just because I'm not there doesn't mean that you can still get away with stuff like this, yeah? I trusted you to go on this trip, you have a responsiblity to set an example, there's girls there younger than you and this is the way you act-- It needs to stop!"

There's something about her scolding that scares you, but you're not too sure about what it is yet. Maybe its' the firm scary facial expression, or the way her words' are just straight to the point, something makes you fear the blonde.

Maybe its' the fact that shes' your hero, she used to be the one youd' look up to and aspire to be like, so to be letting her down seems like the wrong thing to do right now.

Despite your inital fear, you still can't help but act like a troublemaker.

"I don't see what the big deal is though? I'm just having fun. It's harmless, Le," You shrug your shoulders and bite her lip.

Leahs' look continues to be firm, "Enough, Y/N. You promised you would be good and if you keep on causing trouble like you are then I'm going to take away your sweet privledges for a month," She threatens you, which just seems out right criminal. "And if you make Kims' job any harder, then I'll personally make sure you're on a leash next time."

"A... A month without sweets? And a leash?" Your eyes' widen in realisation that maybe you really do need to sharpen up on your behaviour, with the threat of no sweets on the table, you need to actually do as your told now.

"Yes. A whole month without sweets and a leash. Do you understand?" Leah continues with her firm words.

Surely she's just bluffing? Like she'd actually do that, you think.

"You can't do that," You whine in protest.

"I can and I will, because as long as you live under my roof, then you follow my rules," The blonde warns you, firmly. "Do you understand?"

"But Le, that's... that's not fair!" You still can't help but whine.

"Oh this is better than reality TV," Beth chimes in from the side of the camera, where the rest of the girls are still crowded around the phone.

"Beth," Lia nudges the blonde and rolls her eyes.

"What? It's true!" Beth exclaims, shrugging her shoulders.

"It's completely fair, Y/N. I want you to have fun out there in Melbourne with the girls, but not at the expense of the every one," Leah still stands firm on her words. "Behave yourself, or there will be concequences!"

"Fine, I'll try and be good," You sigh dramatically.

"That's all I'm asking for, please," The blonde softens slightly and nods. "I'll check in with Kim later to see how you're doing. Be good, alright?" She tells you.

"Yeah, I will," You reluctantly agree with the blonde, "Now can you go and give Kyra the same lecture, cos' its' not fair if I just get in trouble for this!"

"Oh don't worry, kid. Vivs' already on that one," Beth jokes, panning the camera around to where Vivs' stood off on the other side of the room giving a lecture through the phone to Kyra to where you can even hear the tailend of the conversation. "Having fun at whos' expense? That is no way to act!"

You can't but giggle and shrug your shoulders, "Okay well that makes me feel better at least," You murmer as you wave to the rest of the girls and pass the phone back to Kim.

Leah shakes her head in amusement at your care-free attitude, "Hang in there, Kim. She'll be better now, but if she gives you any more trouble then call me, alright?" She reassures her Captain,

"You got it. Thanks, Leah. I appreciate you talk to her," Kim smiles in agreement, bidding their goodbyes and ending the phone call. "Right, you. How about we go and find the rest of the girls?" She makes the suggestion.

"Yeah, I wanna go and find out how bad of a lecture Kyra got," You smirk mischeviously at your Captain before you both exit the lobby in search for your troublemaker partner. "Race you to the lifts! Last one there's a rotten egg!" You add.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[foreingersgod]

Can you write kate Martin x reader that she’s completely whipped by but they get into an argument and Kate says something she didn’t mean?

Wedding Planning . KM

pairing: kate martin x reader

synopsis: kate says something she doesn’t mean and it puts your relationship at risk.

A/N: guys i think this is my favorite kate fic so far

my masterlist

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it had felt like you’ve known kate for a lifetime, having been together for 5 years. so naturally, when she proposed to you on your anniversary, you could hardly contain your excitement. there were tears, kissing and laughing (and the best engagement sex ever). it was the absolute best night of your life.

since you were a little girl you had dreamed of your wedding. you were obsessed with wedding dresses and falling in love, constantly imaging what your life was going to look like. when you’d play outside you’d make wedding bouquets out of wild flowers, or when you would draw portraits they’d always depict you walking down the isle. now that you were grown and engaged to the love of your life, you couldn’t wait to get started on planning the wedding.

kate, although she was equally ecstatic to get married, wasn’t as keen on wedding planning. she was more laid back with decisions and didn’t have any particular opinions on how she wanted it to look. ‘just as long as you’re happy, babe’ she would say. you didn’t mind all that much, in fact it made your life easier. you had full reign to make your wedding exactly how you had pictured it.

on the downside, it felt like you were doing this all alone when you really wished it was something you two could do together. you just wanted to sit down, after kate came home from practice and you from work, and look through different flowers and centerpieces. you wanted to do cake testings and pick out color schemes. but kate’s answer was always the same when you asked: ‘whatever you like, i like’.

you knew that possibly couldn’t be true. kate was an open book and you knew literally everything about her. there had to be at least one cake flavor she despised or one flower she didn’t like, there’s no way she was fine with anything. sometimes you felt irritated that there weren’t any disagreements about the wedding, she accepted any ideas you threw her way and it really bothered you. planning a wedding, throwing a party in honor of your love for one another, should be about what both of you want.

it had already been months since your engagement and the wedding was rolling around quicker than expected. within days, you became stressed and overwhelmed. there were still so many decisions to make, so many people to call, so many things that still needed to be made perfect. these past few weeks have been incredibly hectic, and to no surprise, you felt isolated and alone. perhaps it was just typical bridal anxiety, or maybe it was the fact that your fiancé wanted nothing to do with helping prepare for your big day.

one late night, around 12 am, you sat on the floor of your shared living room. you had came home late from a night shift at work, waiting up for kate to come home from a night out with the team. with the wedding being so close you decided to spend the extra time tying loose ends and checking things off your to do list. you always waited for kate when she was out late, it was near impossible to sleep without her, so you didn’t mind.

there were folders and binders spread on the coffee table in front of you. little scraps of color samples and inspiration pictures took up every square inch, various phone numbers and addresses also scattered every which way. to any outsider, it’d seem like chaos, but you enjoyed the sweet moments of wedding planning.

not long after you organized the floral section of your wedding binder, you heard the lock of the front door click open. it was followed by the creak of the hinges and heavy footsteps. you looked over from your spot on the ground, seeing kate drop her bag at the door and kick her shoes off. she was tired, you could tell, but still buzzing from hanging out with her teammates.

“hey, baby! you’re home!” you smiled as she approached you. she leant down to press a chaste kiss to your lips before setting down on the couch that you sat against.

“hey,” she was slightly out of breath. she was leaning over your shoulder now, eyeing the mess on the table “wedding stuff? this late?”

“yeah, i wanted to keep myself busy while i waited for you”

“gotcha” with a monotone response, she was already dismissing you and pulling out her phone. she didn’t ask about what you were arranging or what folder you were working on, but instead she was checking instagram?

it made your blood boil slightly, the way that she was completely clueless to anything wedding related.

“want to help me?” you asked, looking back at her “if you’re gonna be up for a little longer, i’d like the help”

“you know me, babe. i’m really not good with that, you’ve got the eye for all of it” she didn’t even bother to make eye contact with you.

“really?” you choked back a scoff, torn between wanting to be mad and confront her or letting the matter roll over.

“what do you mean ‘really’?” now she was paying attention, typical.

“don’t worry about it, let’s just go to to bed” you pushed yourself off the floor, putting on your slippers and heading for the stairs. before you could move, however, kate had grabbed your wrist gently to keep you in place.

“well i am worried,” her face contorted to any angry frown “why are you mad all of the sudden?”

“because kate, you’re pissing me off”

“what the hell did i do?”

you wanted to scream, the emotion starting to build up inside of you. for months you had been annoyed with how she left all the wedding stuff for you to do. how she didn’t even want to be involved in this made you feel like you weren’t doing this wedding to proclaim your love, that you were really just doing it for yourself.

it wasn’t your intention to pick this fight tonight, but oh god did you just want to get it all off your chest.

“i’m pissed because you don’t even want to help with this wedding, kate! you can’t even sit down with me for 5 minutes and help me organize a fucking folder”

“that’s not true i-”

“no it is!” you didn’t even want to hear the bullshit that was bout to spew from her mouth. she remained on the couch, jaw clenched in anger as you cut her off “every time i ask you to do something, you blow me off and leave me to do it by myself! you have no interest in doing any of it with me”

“babe, i’m just not good at that stuff. i thought you wanted to plan this?” she was chewing at the inside of her cheeks now, you could tell she was trying to avoid this conversation.

“with you! i want to plan this with you! but for some reason you want no part in it! i have asked time and time again for a little help in hopes that you’d become interested in it. because in all honesty, kate, i don’t even care about the wedding being perfect. i just want to do it with you! i want you to care and to go to run wedding errands with me, i want you to want to do it with me, but you don’t even give a shit!”

her face started to turn red with annoyance, eyes pressed shut. her large hands covered her face as the ran down her cheeks. she was practically huffing as she sat there listening to you completely hound her for her disinterest.

“you haven’t even asked me about what flowers i decided to go with or shown any fucking interest in my god damn dress. my dress, kate, the part that i’m most excited for. you don’t even care about that and it hurts. and you dont ev-”

“jesus, i don’t care about the fucking wedding, YN!”

she could have just punched you right in the face, it probably would have hurt less than hearing her say that. your heart dropped, noticing how she was seething in rage. jaw still clenched, hands tugging at the roots of her hair, trying to calm herself down.

your eyes welled with tears, body frozen as you tried to process what just happened. she she really not care at all? it didn’t take long for the tears to start spilling, running down your cheeks in heavy cascades. a sob struck your body, you tired to bite your lip to hold it back but it was no use.

“great,” you muttered. she finally looked up at, body softening when she realized what she said “glad i know how you feel”

“baby…” she stood up abruptly, trying to come over to you.

“save it, it’s clear that you don’t care about the wedding” more sobs took over you, it killed kate to see you like this. she was kicking herself internally for even thinking that. why did she say that?

“if it’s really that big of a deal” you stepped back when kate tried to reach for you hand to apologize “then let’s just call the whole thing off”

“YN, no” she begged, tears of her own building up “baby come on, i didn’t mean it, don’t say that”

“why not? i mean you don’t have any interest in it. like at all, not even enough to spend time with me to do it. so let’s just call it”

“i don’t want to call it off” her lips contorted to a frown “i wouldn’t have proposed if i didn’t want to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you. honey please, i don’t want to call it off”

“you’re not acting like it” is all you could say, you were truly speechless at this point. “why scream at me that you ‘don’t care about the wedding’ when i’m trying to express my feelings to you if you don’t want to call it off”

“because i’m a fucking idiot” her voice wobbled as she began to cry. the pattern of her tears mimicking yours “i don’t know why i said that, it’s not true even in the slightest. i’ve just been so stressed with everything recently and stuff with the wedding has just been so overwhelming, but at the end of the day i just want to marry you, baby. that’s no excuse, i’ll admit that i haven’t been a very good fiancé”

“no you haven’t” you crossed your arms, wiping away some of your tears “i know things are stressful…and i get that, but you don’t even seem interested. like you don’t want to do this with me”

“i do,” another wave of sadness washes over her “i think i’m just scared. things are happening so quick and change makes me nervous…our life is so perfect and i’m worried that i’m gonna fuck it up somehow. whether it’s planning the wedding or being a shitty wife, i feel like im going to fail”

“kate…” you swallowed deeply. it sent another pang to your heart knowing that this is how she felt all along “is that really how you feel? like you’re going to fail?”

she nodded, sniffling as she looked down at her feet in embarrassment. you ran over to her in an instant to pull her into your arms. she collapsed into your body, arms wrapping around your waist, chin sitting atop your shoulder as she cried to you. your hands rubbed her back smoothly, letting her get all of it out.

“i’m sorry, i’m so sorry that i’ve been so shitty” you could feel your shirt dampen with teardrops “you don’t deserve any of this. i can’t believe i said i don’t care, i never meant it, i swear”

“hey hey hey,” your hand now finding the back of her head, running your fingers through her hair “it’s going to be ok, i get it, we can work past that. but the last thing i want is for you to feel like you’re going to be a shitty wife. baby, i don’t think you could be a bad wife even if you tried”

“you’re just saying that”

“i’m not! i mean it! you’re the love of my life and i think you’re perfect inside and out. i wouldn’t have said yes if i didn’t accept every part of you. we’ll have ups and downs like everyone does, but that doesn’t mean i don’t still love you and it certainly doesn’t make you a shitty wife”

she released you from the hug when you took ahold of her shoulders. you ran your palms up and down her biceps before moving to her face, fingers grazing her cheekbones.

“it’s going to be ok, alright?” you cracked a smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead as you got up on your tip toes.

“i’m sorry, i love you so much” she pulled you in for a real kiss, this time, lips coming into contact with yours.

“i love you too”

after that night, kate made it her mission to change. she started helping out more, like you had asked, but she was also doing things on her own. kate picked out her suit, called the wedding photographer, and a handful of other things on your list. it was clear to you now that she just needed reassurance. it was going to take sometime to recover from what she had said to you, but you knew none of it was true and it was something you could work past.

you just wanted to marry your girl.

and marry her, you did.

[jezebelblues]

old records on the shelf | h.s

summary: y/n and harry are holed up in a record store due to inclement weather.

cw: unedited - none (?)

word count: approx 2.5k

super short blurb i wrote during lunch break

masterlist

The rain had been relentless all day. the kind of downpour that turns cities into rivers, umbrellas were useless and the sky never shifts from a slate grey gloom. the storm drains even started to clog ever so slightly, and the ground was just one big shallow puddle. Y/n ducked into the record store just in time as a roar of thunder boomed. Her clothes were damp despite her best efforts, drops of rain still clinging to her sweater and hair. The bell above the door chimed softly as she stepped inside, the warm, dimly lit space a stark contrast to the growing chaos outside.

The store was almost vacant, almost. it was a lofted, building, which allowed her eyes to drift up to a man standing on the second floor with his hoodie pulled over his head, looking at different records front to back. There was also a shorter old man who sat at the front desk, flipping through a quaint book after greeting Y/n with a smile. She hadn’t planned on staying long, but the rain had other ideas. The droplets pelted the glass a bit harder, and if it wasn’t the end of summer she’d assume it was sleet. She maneuvered around the dusty aisles, floorboards creaking with each step as her fingertips feathered across the different records sleeves. She had just moved into a studio after years of saving up for a move to New York, and she desperately wanted all her favorite vinyl albums littered about.

Not finding the genre she wanted labeled on the wooden shelves, she ventured up the spiral stairwell to the second floor, hand barely grasping the handrail. Her sneakers squelched against the metal, a sound she’s grown to hate. Gazing around, her eyes met an oddly familiar seafoam green pair. Their glance was fleeting, but she would recognize this man anywhere. Was she a gigantic fan? No, but she enjoyed his music - and it’s hard to not know who Harry Styles was; given his decade long reign in the spotlight. A baggy grey hoodie hung from his frame, stained with raindrops. his hoodie was pulled up over his head, but he wore a baseball cap underneath - most likely an effort to hide his face, maybe? The tattoo on his knee was visible, and his once pristine white vans were speckled with mud.

She had made a sharp right to the shelves beside her, breaking eye contact first. They were both hiding from the downpour, and she didn’t want to make the atmosphere even more unsettling by gawking. After all, he’s just a human. A low rumble of thunder bellowed, the windows fogging up from the heat inside. Y/n strolled through the aisle, wanting to dry off a bit and make a beeline straight out of the shop. She tried her very best to keep her eyes only on the items around her, but she couldn’t help but sneak a few glances at the brunette. He looked as stranded as she felt, pausing now and then to look out the rain streaked-windows before turning back to the shelves. The soft hum of jazz flowing through the speakers buzzes between the walls, a coziness settling in the air.

Another crack of thunder rattled the windows, and the shopkeeper looked up from his book, frowning at the droplets that pelted down harder. After a beat, he bends the corner of a page and closes the book, clearing his throat. He stepped out from behind the counter, craning his neck upward at the two who stood on the second floor. “Sorry, folks.” He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Closin’ up early. Weathers gettin’ worse, radio said subways flooded - complete mess out there. You can wait he for a while if ya like. Ain’t nobody getting anywhere in that storm.” He informed, his accent thick. “Let me know ‘fore I lock the door.”

Harry’s brow furrowed slightly as his words sunk in, nodding at the old man below them. He shot a slow glance back toward the girl on the other side of the room, trying to decipher if it was a smart decision or not. He looked for any inkling of her being a jittery bundle of nerves, a fan that could make being trapped a bit more claustrophobic. He’d like to think he was good at reading people, and when he found a gaze that seemed as uncertain as he was, he felt his shoulders relax. The city was grinding to a halt outside, and there was no escaping the storm outside. Y/n hesitated before crossing the room, standing next to a window that was closer to Harry than she was. She sighed quietly, her breath fogging the glass.

“Well,” Harry broke the silence, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Seems like we’re stuck.”

She turned her head toward him, managing a small smile. “Guess so.”

He shifted on his feet, glancing back down at the pile of records he’d been browsing. A lopsided grin formed his lips. “Could be worse. Least we got good music to keep us company.”

The shop owner muttered something about going to the back and disappeared, leaving Y/n and Harry by themselves. The jazz played on, mingling with the constant drumming of the rain. The dim lights overhead flickered briefly as the wind stared to pick up. “So,” Y/n paused, hoping conversation could distract her from the mess outside. “Looking for anything specific?” She asked as she took a soft step to continue down the aisle, fingers absentmindedly finding their way back to the spine of the albums.

Harry shrugged, following behind her, mirroring her slow pace. “Jus’ browning, really.” He mumbled, watching her fingers. “Thought I could wait out the rain, suppose not.” He let out a breathy chuckle, which earned a small glance from Y/n. “Are you big on vinyl?”

“A little.” She admitted, sneaking a peek of him through the corner of her eye. “I like coming here to clear my head.”

“Yeah?” His grin widened slightly as he leaned against the shelf behind them. “Sorry for takin’ your spot then.”

The conversation flowed easily after that. They gazed over the rows of shelves together, occasionally pulling out an album and showing their favorite artist. Harry shared small anecdotes about certain records that held sentiment. She would do the same, and she felt surprisingly comfortable in his presence despite the strangeness of their situation.

Harry found himself wandering toward a record player on the first floor toward the back, eyeing the old turntable. “Y’mind?” He asked, nodding toward the table as he held up an album she didn’t immediately recognize. Y/n shook her head, curious to what it sounded like. She watched as he carefully pulled the record from its sleeve, placing it on the turntable, his fingers brushing the edge of it with ease. There was a low crackle as the needle hit the grooves, followed by the smooth voice of Otis Redding.

A familiar melody filled the room while Harry leaned back against the counter, arms folded over his chest as he listened, a smile spread across his lips. “Not bad for a stormy night, eh?”

She laughed, nodding. “Could be worse.” She echoed, repeating his earlier words. The record continued to spin as the mood shifted into something quieter, Harry humming a line here and there. His voice was honey. They stood side by side, an unspoken understanding settling between them as they soaked in the moment.

Their hips would occasionally bump into each other if a beat of the song was repetitive enough, and goofy smiled pasted itself on both their lips each time. It felt easy, like the sun shone in the record store alone. “S’like time slowed down.” Harry mumbles, his voice smooth and quiet - almost harmonizing with the music.

She turned to look at him, eyebrows raising slighting in agreement. She hummed, nodding her head before gently bumping her hip into his again - which earned a smile from Harry. “City won’t let you catch your breath unless it forces you to.”

He laughed under his breath, absentmindedly fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. “Y’right. S’like everything moves so fast, but when it stops…” He paused, gesturing around them. “It’s kind of nice.”

Y/n’s gaze lingered on him for a moment. There was something calming about his presence, an easy charm that floated around him like an aura. They were just two strangers, trapped by circumstance.

The shop owner shuffled back in, glancing at the two of them before nodding in approval to the music playing. He didn’t say much - just grunted and went back to his book, leaving them to stay in their bubble a bit longer.

The fourth song on the album stated to fade into its end, and the girl tilted her head toward the records they browsed earlier. “What else have you got?” She asked playfully, her gaze gentle.

He grinned, eyes twinkling. “Plenty.” He paused, rummaging through the nearby stack, fingers moving swiftly as he flipped through the albums. He chuckled to himself as he pulled out a pink cover, Harry’s back front and center on it as he flipped it over to show her. His smile was contagious as he held up his first album next to his head, simple poking through. “Thoughts?”

She couldn’t help but mirror his smile, recognizing the cover as his own. She feigned a confused look, eyebrows furrowed as she sent him a shrug. “Heard of him.”

He laughed, shaking his head and putting the album back down with the rest. “Looks like a wanker.” He smiled, accent thicker than before. He finally settled on Stevie Knicks, letting the needle settle over it and crackle into a song. The notes were soft, her rasp entrancing. “Dance with me?” His voice resembled cotton candy, an edge of anxiety to it.

She raised her eyebrows, smiling at him. “Do you even know my name?”

His lips press into a flat line as he pulled his hood down, adjusting the ballcap that sat on his curls. His cheeks flushed a shade of pink as he smiled, “Tell me your name.”

“Y/n”

The brunette rolled his sleeves up ever so slightly, stepping aside and extending his hand out to her. “Dance with me, Y/n.” Her name rolled effortlessly off his tongue, and a part of him hoped it wouldn’t be the last time he could say it. Her face scrunches, a mix of confusion and amusement as she places her hand into his much larger one. His movements are slow and calculated, pulling her close but not too close, swaying with the melancholic rhythm. She exhaled, soft and gentle, the tips of her shoes touching Harry’s as she inched closer. He smelt of lavender, and the rain on his hoodie only made the scent of laundry detergent radiate from him. It was quiet, comfortable and Harry swore he hadn’t felt so transfixed on someone so quick before.

“You ever get tired of it?” She thought out loud, leaning her head back a bit to fall into his gaze. It was delicate, and his features fluttered into an expression to urge her to continue. A stubble peppered the top of his lip, a crease in his forehead and a lock of hair dangling from the corner of his cap. He could be cut and molded from marble. “Of the attention, I mean.”

Harry blinked, his movements stalling as he thought about her question. He lowered his hand to her waist - barely. His touch was a whisper, fingertips only grazing the fabric of her sweater, his palm hovering over the curve of her hip. “It can be overwhelming.” He whispered, his breath a cold peppermint. He bit the inside of his lip as his eyes narrowed, taking in every line and angle of her pretty face. “But it’s worth it. ‘specially in-between the spotlight where I can enjoy moments like these.”

Y/n nodded, understanding the measure of his words. She parted her lips to speak, but Harry let out a small giggle, “The calm between the storms.”

She laughed, and Harry could hear her sincerity even though it was a bad joke altogether, but maybe that was the humor she found in it. Her fingers wriggled in his light grasp, brushing her hands up his arms to lazily wrap behind his neck. Goosebumps appeared on his skin, and he internally cursed at whatever God there was for letting the rain ease up. It faded into a drizzle, and the darkened sky started to lighten into a grey. A pang of disappointment hit them both as they realized the storm couldn’t last forever, and their bubble was meant to burst eventually. She slowly pealed herself from him, a sheepish grin on her lips as she looked back outside. For a moment, they stood there, locked in the reality that this was a fleeting moment - an unexpected connection - was about to slip away as easily as the droplets did. “Don’t think we’re stuck anymore.”

Harry nodded, a sigh falling from his lips as he removed the record from the turntable and placed it back into its sleeve, organizing the pile to sit neatly. He could hear the floor creak as she began to move, and his words fell from his lips before he could stop himself. “Do this again with me?”

Her heart skipped a beat, surprised and hopeful. She smiled, turning around to face him. His expression reminded her that of a schoolboy, and she couldn’t help but giggle. “Are you asking me out, Harry Styles?” Her voice held a lightness despite a familiar flutter in her belly.

He chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders. “If you’ll let me.” A smile spread upon his lips. “Maybe next time we can plan for better weather - though I won’t complain if it rains again.”

She felt a warmth spread through her, pins and needles in the tips of her fingers. “I’d like that.” She nodded, smile matching his.

He nodded toward the shopkeeper as they ambled out the door, holding the door open for the pretty girl behind him. His lip tucked between his teeth, the breeze light and airy as he pulled the hood over his head. “Um-“ He mumbled nervously, reaching his hand into his pocket and unlocking his phone. But Y/n already took one of his hands into hers, palm upward as she delved into her tote with the other hand, pulling out a pen that’s been in there for god knows how long. She scribbles her number onto his palm, ending it with a smiley face.

His hand still tingled, and his eyes crinkled from the smile he couldn’t wipe off. “What if it smudges?” He calls out, Y/n already beginning to walk the direction back to her apartment.

She turns, her grin almost as wide as Harry’s as she continues her trek, but backwards and slower than before. “You’ll know where to find me!”

[jeridandridge]

Happy Haunts

Melissa Schemmenti is a tough cookie. Until she watches a horror movie.

When you got to work on this particular stormy Halloween you didn’t expect to run around the entire school looking for a child dressed as Thanos, but here you are dressed in your best Captain Carter costume going through the halls with Melissa.

“Okay this stagnant chocolate smell is making me wanna barf.” You groan bringing your arm up to cover your nose.

“This kid thrives on chaos that’s for damn sure.” The redhead nods eyeing you slyly. Your toned arms were on full display in your tight shirt, the material complimenting your body well. “So, what are your plans for tonight, Cap?”

Chuckling you glance at the scarlet witch with a smile. “Well, I’m third wheeling with Jacob and Zach. We’re going to a haunt and I’m almost certain Jacob will run out. What are your Halloween plans with Mr. Year round candy guy?”

Having a crush on a coworker was hard, but it made it even more difficult knowing she was dating someone, especially a guy that was so irritatingly nice like Gary.

Melissa chuckles, immediately sobering at your question. “Gary? He’s a nice guy, but it didn’t work out.” She shrugs.

“Oh.” Is all you can say. That was new information and you felt bad for thinking it, but you were glad it hadn’t worked out between the two. Maybe you could grow some guts and finally ask the redhead out.

After following trails of candy wrappers and chocolate baby Thanos is found by Chad, and his reign of terror over Abbott is finished. Now in the break room after dismissal you sit with your plastic shield on the table with a cup of coffee in hand watching the rain splatter the window.

“Hey Captain,” Melissa gets your attention, purse slung over her shoulder, “How’s about you let the scaredy cats go to the haunted house and you come get scared with me?”

“Are you calling yourself scary, Mel? ‘Cause I don’t buy it.” You tease grabbing your own bags ready to leave. The idea of spending more time outside of work with Melissa had your heart fluttering in your ribcage. The little crush you had since you started teaching at Abbott went from a spark to a roaring fire fast, and now, thanks to class prep and staff meetings. it may be time to act.

“We can hand out candy and watch something scary.” Crimson lips turn into a smile that you’ve only ever seen on the Cheshire Cat.

“What kind of wine should I bring?”

“Red, six o’clock. Don’t be late.” She shoots you a smile over her shoulder.

She might as well be a real witch with the hold she has on you already. In the couple hours you had between work and Melissa’s, you went home to freshen up, opting to stay in your costume for now and being a change of clothes for later just in case the night went late.

At six o’clock on the dot you knock on the paper ghost covered door with a bottle of red wine in gloved hand, chuckling at the sound of scared squeals from kids down the street. “Let me in there’s monsters out here!” You joke.

When the door opens Melissa’s there in all her scarlet witch glory sans her boots. Taking in the sight you can’t help but smile. “Oh my god, Mel.” You laugh adoringly. “Without the boots you’re just adorable. You don’t have the threatening witch look.”

The redhead rolls her eyes adoringly opening the door wider. “Quiet, muscles. I’m giving my feet a break before the kids start coming.”

Following her in you close the door kicking your boots off already enjoying the warmth and smell of the house.

“What’s that smell? My mouth is watering.”

Cape flowing behind her the redhead goes to the oven letting out a wave of warm air as she pulls out a pan of pizza.

“Margherita mozzarel.” She smiles sliding the colorful pizza onto the wooden tray.

You shake your head with a smile moving to wash your hands at the sink. “How did you manage that in just two hours?”

“Magic, hon.” She winks rotating the tray as she cuts into the dough, your breath catching in your throat.

“Where are your glasses?” You hum reaching for the wine bottle trying to distract yourself.

“Right here,” her voice is soft, her hand even softer as she holds onto your arm to reach past you to the cupboard. Bringing two glasses out between her fingers Melissa smiles setting them on the counter beside you. It’s like she was doing it on purpose.

Dinner eaten and two glasses of wine in, you and Melissa are chuckling away on the front porch handing candy out to the kids. When you see her shiver slightly from the cool air, you wrap your arm around her shoulders gently running your thumb over her skin. “These rugrats are slowing down, feel like going back in?” You ask knowing she has a movie planned.

“Yeah,” Melissa smiles warmly at you, standing up with an empty candy bowl. “Let’s see how long you can last.”

Your breath catches in your throat, eyes wide as you duck your head, all of a sudden very worried about tripping as you follow her into the house.

“You know, these movies can get scary.” She teases you.

“Yeah,” you chuckle nervously, “yeah, movies.”

As you change out of your costume in Melissa’s bathroom, you lean against the door taking a breath. She was teasing you, that’s all it was. You two were having a fun night as friends. Clad in your sweatpants and a Flyers t-shirt you meet Melissa back in the dim living room chuckling when you see what’s ready to go on tv.

“This all you got Schemmenti?” You tease sitting next to her, Laurie strode paused on the tv screen.

“Hey, Michael is horrifying okay.” She argues sprinkling the flavor seasoning over her popcorn.

“There’s no way you’re afraid of these movies, Mel.”

“I’m not,” she scoffs playing it off, patting the cushion next to her, “I’m thinking about you. Now sit your cute ass down.”

Rolling your eyes you sit shoulder to shoulder as the eerie music starts, smiling when you catch Melissa looking at you.

“Watch the movie, scaredy cat.” You whisper reaching over for a piece of popcorn.

As the movie continues you both move slowly, fingers reaching into the popcorn bowl cautiously as the stormy night on the tv screen unsettles you. When a thud comes through the speakers Melissa flinches almost dropping the bowl.

“Dolce Gesú!” She lets out in Italian looping her arm with yours. Pink nails dig into the skin of your forearm making you hum in protest. Slowly pulling away you reach back wrapping your arm around her shoulders instead holding her close. Smelling the wine mixed with her make up from the day you can’t help but smile.

The Halloween classic continues, and at some point you end up laying on the couch, Melissa practically on top of you with her face hidden in your neck.

“You can’t have sex while a killers on the loose!” Her muffled voice comes out, soft breath against your skin making you laugh.

“They’re horny teenagers, Mel they didn’t get the memo.”

Throughout the rest of the movie Melissa plays peek a boo with the screen, using you as a human shield. Eventually your hand finds her back. Fingers moving lazily against the warm fabric you sigh contently enjoying this feeling, grateful that Melissa is comfortable enough to be this vulnerable with you. Before you know it, the eerie piano plays again as Melissa rests her chin on your shoulder meeting your eyes.

“I have a confession to make, hon.”

“What’s that?” You ask quietly, a dazed smile that you couldn’t help on your lips.

“I’m not afraid of scary movies.”

Taken aback for a moment you look into jade eyes, pupils dilated and looking at you with nothing but pure admiration.

“You- so this-“ you stammer, a soft chuckle rumbling in Melissa’s chest you can feel against your body.

Resting her hand on your hip the redhead tips her head up kissing your cheek.

“You’ll figure it out, hon.”

Mind going a mile a minute you lay there stunned until you feel her lips on your cheek. “Wait, Was this a date?” You ask quirking a brow feeling totally stupid.

Melissa smiles moving to hover over you.

“I thought it was. Do you want it to be?”

Instead of saying anything, you sit up, hands on the older woman’s hips as you lean in placing a soft kiss to her lips. It doesn’t turn into anything else then, you both exploring new ground cautiously, hands moving slowly until your arms are around her waist.

“You could’ve asked me out.” You chuckle keeping your arms around her. “You didn’t have to act scared over a movie.”

The redhead playfully rolls her eyes gently cupping your cheek.

“Not that I’m complaining.” You lean in nuzzling your nose against hers.

There’s a comfortable moment of silence at the simple action, Melissa’s fingers playing with your hair.

“Alright, hon. How’s about we go on a real date this weekend?” She suggests.

Smiling softly you nod keeping your hands on her hips.

“It’s a date.”

[spacedace]

Reluctant War AU Part 2

Part One

...I ended up writing more for that Reluctant War AU...Like. Wrote this before work and started on part 3 with plans for part 4 more.

this was supposed to just be a brain worm what happened (also thank you @catastrophic-crow for the AU name <3 <3 <3 Also, also: welcome to the cult of Ancient of the Speedforce Elle! Membership includes nonsense, shenanigans and chaos haha)

-

Gotham had always been a place for ghosts.

Every corner haunted by death and tragedy.

Every street stained red at least once in its many years.

Every dark shadow holding the faint shadows and shades of the dead.

Gotham was, before all else, a grave yard.

Jason had known that his entire life. Every kid born and raised in the Alley did. Death came fast to Gotham’s streets. Especially for those the rest of the city turned its back on. He did his best to lighten the reaper’s load when it came to the people that called Crime Alley home. Well, mostly. He’d certainly added names to old Death’s list before, when the occasion called.

When the armies of the dead descended upon Gotham, the only surprise Jason could feel was that those white wearing pieces of shit had dared to try and hunker down in his city.

It was a sentiment shared by most of Gotham’s fine citizens. By the city itself - herself? Something to ask later, if there was a later - even if the impossible, living shadow that rose up out of Gotham’s many dark corners was anything to go by. He knew, almost instinctively, that the entity - skin of cracked pavement, mouth a bridge suspended too wide across the face, eyes of CCTV camera lenses and body built brick by grimy, bloody brick of the sharp skyline - was Gotham. Not a ghost but something bigger, greater. Something awfully, terribly alive in all its horrible, noble glory. His city, manifest in the shape almost human beneath the green glow of the torn apart sky above.

Phantom’s armies arrived without warning as they had everywhere else, and their enemies poured out in unforgivably unmarred white suits to meet them. Horrible and garish against the Gotham streets. How they’d ever managed to slink by unnoticed while being so blatantly, clearly not of Gotham Jason wasn’t sure he’d ever know.

If either side thought this would be like the battles they fought before, they were mistaken.

Gotham was a place for Ghosts.

A place the dead piled up, lingered well beyond their deaths. A place where the rules were different from everywhere else in the world. Where crime was rampant and chaos reigned but at the end of the day people said their thanks that they were born to this hellhole and not so cursed to call anywhere else in the world home.

The dead came to fight

And Gotham, a thing so alive it was sickening to look upon, rose up to fight right along side them all.

The agents were ready and prepared for the incursion of the dead. It’d been two weeks since the first volley of attacks. Two weeks spent shoring up defenses and ramping up weapons and strategizing ways to kill what was already dead. They were, as best as they were able to be considering how endless the armies that came for them, prepared.

They weren’t prepared for Gotham.

Weren’t prepared for the city itself to rise up and take spectral, eldritch shape. Jagged building spire and shattered glass teeth bared in a snarl that spanned miles. Screaming rage in a voice made of gunfire and the concussive boom of explosions and the shrieks of a furious crowd.

Weren’t prepared for its people to ignore the gentle ushering of the dead trying to push them away to safety and instead press forward to fight shoulder to shoulder with the ghostly armies.

Weren’t prepared to have brick and bottles and trash and debris rain down upon them from the jeering living. Weren’t prepared for dirty faced children with hard eyes to light up rags stuffed into chipped beer bottles filled with gas and kerosene and throw them with more speed an accuracy than any professional baseball player. Weren’t ready for Gotham’s motley crew of terrifying Rogues to band together with the citizens they so often accosted and worried and bring down wave after wave of chaos and Goons.

Weren’t prepared for Red Hood to swap out his rubber bullets for the real deal and start mowing the fuckers in white down, his own crew at his back, the rest of the Outlaws on their way.

The Justice League was trying to find a peaceful resolution. Trying to play go between to the US Government and the infinite dead. Too wound up in US politics to side with the dead outright, too disgusted by what the American government had done to ever want to stand with them. All it had gotten them was spun wheels and confusion and the slow creeping realization that the time to try and play negotiators had well passed.

Red Hood wasn’t a member of the Justice League.

He had no obligation to try and find a way to talk things out.

What he had was a grave he’d dug his way out of, enough ammunition to arm a sizable country, and a burning need to make things right.

Gotham had always been a place for ghosts, and Jason had long accepted that he was one of them.

Haunting the streets he’d survived as a child, the city he protected as Robin, the family he’d loved and lost a thousand and one times before and after his death.

The sky cracked open above his home, and it was not an invading army that came rushing out but a native one. Friends, neighbors, strangers on the street you caught from the corner of your eye. The people of Gotham knew their own and fought for them. Only Gotham was allowed to fucked with Gotham and they’d been screwed over enough by the government themselves to know what side they were on.

He lifted his guns and fired, teeth bared in vicious satisfaction beneath his helmet as white was splattered bright red.

A hissing electric whine of a weapon, a flash of green from the edge of his vision.

“Down!”

He was thrown bodily to the cracked and ruined street beneath him, the body shielding him warm and living as one of the agent’s weapon fired a blast of energy right where he’d been a second before. He’d seen that same weapon reduce one of the raging dead to dripping green and screams of agony the dead should not be capable of making.

Before he could shove himself up and respond in kind, the body above him was in motion and the air above him cracking with the snapping-popping-roar of a gun of a much higher power than even what he had. The fucker in white that had shot at him dissolved into a mist of red viscera, body seizing and shuttering in the briefest moment it had before it was obliterated completely.

“Watch yourself.” He looked up - and up - and wondered at the lovely, fierce face he found staring down at him. “Even without shooting at them you’re Liminal enough to trip their sensors.”

She was tall enough to be an amazon, six inches in height on him at least. Body strong beneath the pitch black armor she work - as deep and dark as the depths of space, etched with starlight, a familiar crest upon her chest in the dizzying burst of a supernova - she held herself with confidence. Strands of hair the color of a warning sunrise escaped out from beneath the helm she wore, bright against her pale skin, warming the glass-sharp teal eyes that had pinned him in place.

The hand not holding the gun she’d just used to delete the asshole that had just tried to shoot him - a strange, impossible thing that made him taste lightning at the back of his throat to look at it - stretched out to help him up.

He accepted it.

Something pulsed to life in his chest. A piece forgotten where it’d been left behind, half buried in grave dirt and broken pieces of a casket he’d clawed his way out of. It burned like a hot coal in his chest, froze him with the same aching cold of a blizzard, crackled his nerves to life with lightning even as his brain popped and fried with the same sizzling energy.

On his feet, hair on end and body and Core pulsing with the need to fight, to rend and tear and scream for all done to him, his people, his home, he met the eyes of the woman before him. Her cool gaze softened, just a moment, just a second as she seemed to realize what had happened. Her hand, lighter than the armor she wore should allow it to be, tightened on his just a moment, mouth tilting from determined frown to soft understanding.

Gotham had always been a place for ghosts.

Jason had long accepted that he was one of them.

---

Part Three

[newkatzkafe2023]

To celebrate new monkeys, how would the Wukongs’ react to a mate who is basically like Discord? You know, teases them, has chaotic magic, probably some clingy behavior since they didn’t really have someone who cared about them. Just heaven’s nightmare meets self proclaimed god or goddess of chaos.

MY LITTLE PONY!!!!!!! DISCORD IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE MLP CHARACTERS!!!!!!!🤩🤩🤩🤩

(Lmk Wukong) You are his dream girl. The chaos, the anarchy, the pranks he wouldn't be able to come up with in a million years. He just had to have you, especially when learning how sweet and caring you actually are when you're not being a bad girl🤤. Wukong wasted know time wooing you over after another day of you never making sense, he cooed and flirted all while you flirted and teased him. It wasn't hours before you were making out as exploding peaches cobblers rained down on heaven and earth.

(MKR Wukong) Ohhhhhhhhhh, you two are a match, and he totally feels it's meant to be, just as much as you do😉. You are so beautiful, so powerful, so Chaotic he just wants to take you home so bad🤤🤤🤤. It's safe to say that he will adore you, and you're a chaotic magic, especially when it's really sticking it to heaven and its stupid forced organization. It all started when he wasn't invited to the celestial banquet and therefore he robbed them blind but surprise surprise you weren't invited either. So you both met up and came up with a plan to get back at everyone😈. Then, hours of watching your magic at work was when he knew he was in love with you. He took full advantage of your clingy nature as he would demand unpresided cuddles from you personally.

(HIB Wukong) Your chaos actually scares him😳. the way you torture the 3 realms, specifically heaven with your Chaos magic, especially when it's supposed to be out of control. You tease him on a daily basis and perform cutesy fun party tricks for Luier and Silly Girl. Not to mention your pranks on pigsy make him laugh sometimes, which he hates how he let's that happen. The one thing that touches him is how caring and concern you would be for him, which is honestly sweet of you. Wukong may find your magic to be chaotic and unpredictable, but knowing your personality as someone who actually considers him and his emotions, it really feels nice.😊

(NR Wukong) Oh my god, this, this can't happen. Everyone would forbid you from ever meeting him because the chaos would be talked about for the rest of everybody else's life🫢🫢🫢😧😧😧. Not to mention, he can be quite clingy himself, so cuddles and hugs are a must he even except hands holding from you. He fell madly in love with you and your chaos, and especially with how caring and sweet you are to him. You've been his other half ever since you made it rain alcohol🥰🥰🥰

(Netflix Wukong) People have literally cowarded upon seeing you both together. I mean we saw the chaos that he can reign especially in a fit of rage but once he meets you it's over😨. Wukong is very fun to tease and play little pranks on because his reactions and Whines are priceless and adorable. He himself is also the clingy type so the cuddles are very Frequent as they are intimate, when he finds out that nobody cares for you either he had made a Vow to always be there for you as you started to be there for him.

(BMW Wukong) Heaven will totally sh*t themselves so hard they would actively lose weight if you both ever were to meet. You both will always be on the drawing board when it comes to planning pranks and acts of chaos. Although he would be a target to pranks and teasing as long as he does it to you, which is always fair on your part. Not to mention, your clinginess would always be something for him to poke at jokingly, even though he secretly liked that to you as he's always touching you in some way. The point is you guys will be a match made in hell for heaven and everybody else that knows you personally!!!😈😈😈

(Destined one) Ahhh, clingyness is the one thing he will never mind from you. The Destined one definitely tends to get bamboozled by you and your magic, but he definitely never minds it. It comes to be quite useful in the journey, and he loves your creativity and enthusiasm for it. Not to mention, the way you would carefully look over him and make sure your prank didn't upset him is very heartwarming to him. But you should know he can have bouts of mischief as well😉😉😉

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG💥

[paradiseprincesss]

forever, not maybe | jonathan crane

hello hello! sorry i haven't been posting as much i've been busyyy and a little burnt out if i'm being honestttt but enough about me. when i say "catwoman mask" in this fic - i was thinking of the lace one ariana grande wore for tbim music video lol anyway...i had "off to the races" on repeat while writing this <3

summary: you have a secret life as catwoman that you've been keeping away from your boyfriend, jonathan crane. however, it seems he has a secret life of his own, too...

warnings: smut, p in v, fingering, choking, kissing, swearing, MDNI 18+ ONLY

word count: 3.6k

masterlist

“i’m working late tonight,” jonathan said over the phone with a sigh.

“again?” you asked your boyfriend, trying to feign the sadness in your voice.

jonathan had been working late night shifts at the asylum for the last few months; so often that you swore he saw his patients more than he did you. naturally, you missed him. all you wanted was to be in his arms again, laid up in bed as he held you and told you how much he loved you.

but the extra time away from him gave you more time for your…hobbies.

of course you felt guilty lying to your boyfriend about your whereabouts or what you were doing — but you couldn’t risk him finding out about you being catwoman.

every time you told him you were going to sleep, you’d really be getting ready to commit a heist, or worse, find batman and reign chaos in the city just to spite him. you’d always tell jonathan the reason you were so tired all the time was because you were having trouble sleeping when he wasn’t there — but alas, it was because you were out on crime sprees until five in the morning.

“i’m sorry, darling. i wish i could be at home with you right now,” jonathan said softly, his voice tinged with guilt.

“i know, jon. it’s okay — i think i'm gonna go to bed now. it’s late,” you replied, trying to sound exhausted as you yawned. “see you in the morning, baby.”

“see you then, darling,” jonathan said softly, “i love you.”

“i love you too,” you sighed, hanging up the phone.

as soon as you hung up the phone, you jumped out of bed and rushed to put on your catsuit. after you threw on your fitted outfit along with the matching mask, you were sneaking out your window in mere seconds, creeping off into the dark, crime-filled city that was gotham.

tonight, you were on the prowl for a certain villain though — the scarecrow.

the two of you had had a mutual distaste for each other. he’d once told you that you were “too morally ambiguous,” as sometimes you’d be robbing banks and committing heists, whereas other times you’d aid batman in the saving of gotham city. you thought he was full of shit, and you made sure to remind him that his plan to poison the entirety of gotham city with his fear toxin would never work every chance you got. 

the two of you had a strange dynamic — always messing with one another's plans and such, but last week, things seemed to have changed between you and him. 

it all started when he came to pay you a visit after you’d robbed two men at gunpoint, stealing their cards and some cash out of pure boredom. you heard footsteps behind you as you were counting stacks of cash, and once you glanced back, you saw the scarecrow himself approaching you in the quiet parkade you stood in.

the two of you never stopped to talk very much, as usually each interaction lasted no more than a few minutes, but tonight, neither of you were in a rush to leave. the scarecrow looked at you through the eye holes of his burlap mask, and for a moment, you felt oddly comforted by his presence. 

“catwoman,” he said, looking down at the cash in your hands, “we meet again.” 

“we meet all the time,” you retaliated, hearing his distorted voice through his mask. 

“we do, yes,” he replied casually, “but i’ve never gotten the chance to speak to you alone like this.” 

“that’s because you’re always interrupting me when i'm busy,” you teased, looking up at him with a small smile. 

you noticed he stopped talking to look closely at you, almost as if he was analyzing you. picking you apart detail by detail, his blue eyes trailing over every single inch of you. his eyes darted over the lace covering your eyes before he narrowed them, inhaling sharply. 

“...has anyone told you that you have a pretty smile?” he asked quietly, and you almost had to get him to repeat himself out of disbelief. 

“did i hear you correctly?” you asked, attempting to clarify what exactly he was trying to get at. “did you just compliment me?”

“it would appear that way,” he said with amusement.

you stood there staring at him for a few seconds, unsure of what to say before you scoffed, waving his compliment off.

“i have a boyfriend,” you huffed.

“a boyfriend?” he teased, his blue eyes widening under his mask. “is that so?”

you hummed in agreement, flipping through the dollar bills in your hands. “i love him. a lot.”

“i see,” he said once more, “i forgot to mention that i saw you last week, by the way.” 

“did you?” you asked nonchalantly. 

“sneaking out of your apartment window at midnight — i wonder if your boyfriend knows what you do when he’s not home.” he teased, causing you to stop what you were doing as your heart raced.

“you know where i live?” you tilted your head to the side to emphasize your confusion, causing him to chuckle softly.

“that i do,” he shrugged, “and dare i say, you really are quite the beauty when you don’t have this lacy little mask covering your face.” 

he gestured to your mask, causing you to roll your eyes which were partially hidden by the lace. “i told you i have a boyfriend,” you said harshly. 

“i can’t help but wonder what he would think if he saw you like this — stealing from the innocent people of gotham city.” you could almost hear him smirking through his mask by the way he talked. “hm?” 

“well — i don’t plan on telling him,” you sneered, causing the scarecrow to chuckle.

“so feisty,” he purred. “tell me about this ‘boyfriend’ of yours.” 

you crossed your arms, still holding the cash in your hand as you let out an annoyed sigh. “he’s a doctor,” you said, not-so-subtly bragging, “and…as much as i wish i could tell him about what i do, i don’t think he’d approve.”

he nodded, taking in everything you were saying. 

“but you don’t need to know the intimate details of my love life — quit asking.” you said, shaking your head as you shook the thought of jonathan out of your mind for the time being.

the scarecrow looked at you with intrigue, taking a step closer to you. as you took in all the details of his suit, you couldn’t help but notice how oddly familiar it looked — you’d sworn that you had seen this exact suit before. 

“you must really love him, don’t you?” he asked casually with a shrug. “well, maybe he knows more than he’s letting on.” 

“i highly doubt that,” you sighed, realizing it was time to head home since jonathan would be back soon. “i have to go.” 

he nodded, looking at you with those strikingly blue eyes before turning around and disappearing into the shadows. you stood there for a few moments quietly, struggling to understand why he felt so familiar yet so distant to you at the same time — it almost felt like you’d known him for ages. 

once you got home, you quietly reached for your front door before realizing it was locked. you’d made your way out tonight through the window, but when you looked up at it, you realized that there was no way you would be able to climb that high and get through it from the outside. 

“need some assistance?” a familiar voice called from the bottom of your porch stairs. once you quickly turned around in a panic, you saw a certain scarecrow peering up at you.

“what are you doing here?” you asked in a hushed whisper. “my boyfriend is going to see you. he’s supposed to be home from work any second!” 

“relax,” he commented, making his way up the porch stairs. reaching into his suit pocket, he pulls out a shiny piece of metal — a key. “i just want to help you, is that so wrong?” 

as he unlocked the front door and swung it open, you harshly grabbed his wrist, pulling him closer to you. 

“and why do you have a key to my boyfriend's house?” you asked with irritation. 

“because,” he said, his voice no longer distorted, “i live here.”

your grip remained on his wrist as he spoke softly to you, and your eyes met with his brilliantly blue ones — you only knew one person who had eyes that striking. you almost felt silly for not realizing sooner, but to be fair, he’d only come to realize who you really were just last week. 

it all made sense now  — the “late” shifts at arkham, the way he’d sometimes come home bruised and bloodied (which he said was because of his “violent” patients), and the way he’d always avoided talking about work with you every time you’d asked.

he shut the door behind the both of you as you gently let go of his wrist, looking at him in awe as he turned back around to face you. you still had your catwoman mask on, and he was still wearing his scarecrow one. you stared at him in silence, almost at a loss for words before you finally spoke up quietly, your eyes still locked with his blue ones. 

“you’re…” you trailed off, reaching up to tug at his mask, wanting nothing more than to take it off. “you’re the scarecrow…”

“and you’re catwoman,” he teased as your fingers ghosted the edge of his mask.

“shut up,” you blushed, “and take this off.” 

you gestured to his mask, but he shook his head as he stared at you through the eye holes. “i have an idea,” he suggested, “why don’t you make your way to the bedroom and wait for me, if you’re not too tired.“

“you cannot possibly be suggesting what i think you’re suggesting—”

“i am,” he said lowly. “...if you want to.”

without another word, you bit your lip and nodded, making your way to your shared bedroom excitedly. it was almost thrilling, the way he was commanding you and telling you to behave. it’s not that jonathan wasn’t bossy during sex (or in general if we’re really being honest here), but the added excitement of knowing your smart, calm, doctor boyfriend had a not-so-innocent side made it so much better.  

you sat obediently on the edge of the bed waiting for him. he eventually joined you, still in his scarecrow mask and suit, eyeing you down. 

“i’m sorry i didn’t make it clear,” he stated, “but i wanted you waiting with nothing on.” 

“but you’re—“ you tried to protest, as he was still fully clothed. 

“be quiet,” he growled, grabbing you by the throat, “unless you want a taste of my fear toxin, hm?” 

you swallowed, nodding as the grip around your neck made you dizzy, and you did as you were told to do. he watched you closely, looking at you through those eerie eye holes of his mask as you undressed hastily.

“slower,” he said, “give me a little show, won’t you sweetheart?”

you almost choked on your words when he spoke — you were enjoying it, though. something about your usually calm, collected, gentle boyfriend acting like this was triggering something primal in you. 

as you stripped down into nothing but your bra and underwear — which were matching, by the way — his pupils went wide at the sight. you sat back on the bed in your lacy undergarments, and he took a few steps closer, not yet getting on the bed with you.

“you really are perfect, you know?” he spoke softly, even though he looked rather intimidating, but it had you rubbing your thighs together.

“light of my life,” you breathed. “that’s what you are.” 

“is that right, my darling?” he asked, his voice giving away that although he was acting tough and composed — he was crumbling because of you. “are you forever mine?”

“forever yours,” you replied with no hesitation. 

jonathan made his way over to you, grabbing your face gently as he stood at the edge of the bed.

“i love you,” you whispered, and his grip on your face softened. 

“darling,” he rasped, “lay back on the bed for me.” 

you do as you’re told, laying back on the bed as he joins you, his hands immediately snaking behind your back to unclasp your lacy bra. 

“angelic,” he breathed, speaking softly. “how are you real?” 

his last words were so quiet, you barely heard him through the burlap mask covering his head. you were sprawled out on the bed, back resting on the pillows as his hands reached to tweak your nipples softly, causing you to moan quietly. he was hovering above you, propped up on his arms and studying your every reaction as he took in the way your body responded to his touch. 

suddenly, his hand brushed up against the lace of your panties, teasingly dragging his fingers across your skin. you let out a soft whine, shifting your hips slightly out of habit. “please,” you whispered, “touch me — scarecrow.”

as the words left your mouth, he was tearing your underwear clean off of you, causing you to get incredibly turned on — as if you weren’t soaking through your panties already. 

jonathan brushed his fingers against your sticky folds before slowly inserting one of his fingers into your tight hole, causing you to let out a vulgar moan as he toyed with your cunt. 

he continued to stare down at you as your back was pressed into the pillows, giving him a perfect view of your face as he watched from above. you let out a mewl as he started to pump a single digit in and out of your dripping cunt, your cheeks flushed a pretty pink shade.

“m-mm, oh my god—!” you moaned, feeling him curl his finger in a way that made your back arch. he let out a low hum before inserting a second digit, causing you to gasp. 

“jon,” you breathed, “f-fuck, yes—“

“i know, darling,” he cooed, watching you as he pumped two digits in and out of your tight, warm hole. “it’s a lot for your tight little cunt to take. i know, but don’t worry — i'll get you nice and stretched out before i bury my cock inside of you.” 

his filthy words caused you to tighten up around his fingers, making him let out a low chuckle from behind his burlap mask. “someone likes it dirty, hm?” he teased, and you let out a breathless moan. 

“c-close,” you managed to choke out. 

“who owns you?” he asked, fucking you with his fingers as he rubbed that spongy spot inside of you. 

“you!” you whimpered, “fuck, you do—“

your release hit you, hard and fast, as you clenched around his fingers. your vision was clouded with stars, pure ecstasy running through your veins. jonathan watched you like a predator watches its prey, his eyes running all over your body as he studied you through the eyeholes of his mask. 

you lay on the bed breathless, your cheeks flushed still, as he looked down at you sprawled out against the soft pillows. you could hear him breathing heavily from behind his mask — it almost gave him a power trip to see you like this; fucked out and submissive to him as he was dressed up as scarecrow. 

you let out a huff, closing your eyes for just one moment before they shot open again to the sound of his belt being unbuckled. you rubbed your thighs together and whined softly, causing jonathan to let out a low groan as his cock sprung free against his stomach, hitting the white button down shirt he wore.

he gave himself a few strokes before lining himself up with your dripping entrance. 

“how badly do you want it, baby?” he teased, rubbing his cock up against your slit slowly. 

“so bad,” you whined desperately, “please, jonathan—”

“try again.” 

“fuck, please! please, scarecrow…” you begged, hoping you’d get what you were wanting after fixing your mistake. 

it seemed to work because before you could whine anymore, you were letting out a filthy moan as he rammed himself into you, breaching your tight hole. even though you’d just taken his fingers, you hadn’t been able to fuck him for a few weeks, due to work and all — so you were taking a little longer than usual to adjust to his size. 

“m-my god, s-slow down—” you breathlessly gasped, feeling his cock pounding your cunt mercilessly as he set a fast pace.

“you can take it,” he assured you, still fucking you harshly as his hands come to grip at your throat. “keep squeezing my cock. fuck — like that.” 

you could feel him stretch out your drooling hole as you mewled, unable to form any proper sentences or get any real words out from the way he was fucking you. jonathan kept a firm vice around your neck, causing you to struggle for air slightly as his normally bright blue eyes turned about fifty shades darker. 

you didn’t know what was turning you on more — the fact that he was still dressed as scarecrow, mask and all, or how roughly he was drilling into your sopping cunt right now. 

“o-oh my god—” you whined, looking up at him breathlessly as he continued to squeeze the sides of your neck. “i-i can’t…”

jonathan was for sure having an ego trip right now — the way you were completely at his mercy as his cock pounded against your cervix, creating the perfect mix of pleasure and pain. the way you looked at him like he was your entire world — because he was — even while he was fucking you stupid. just everything about you had jonathan tripping out on ecstasy, pleasure, and dare i say love?

“what is it, my darling?” he cooed mockingly, cutting off your air supply once more with a harsh squeeze to your neck while he was balls deep in your cunt. “use your words, darling — you can do it.”

“c-can’t breathe,” you managed to rasp, your hands clawing at his, “let— go—”

satisfied with your begging, jonathan let go of your throat and placed his hands harshly onto your hips. his fingers dug into your sides as he continued to plow your pussy with no intention of stopping until you were ruined.

he could see the fear in your eyes — even if it was mixed with arousal — and it brought him closer and closer to the edge with every thrust. you, along with jonathan, were close to coming undone as well, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as pleasure consumed you.

“come,” he growled, “show me who owns this tight fucking cunt.” 

you let out a choked moan as he rammed his cock into you so deeply that you stopped breathing momentarily, before letting yourself tip over the edge. your release winded you, causing you to scream his name so loud that your neighbours would definitely know who was fucking you right. 

“jonathan! f-fuck!” you squeaked out, creaming on his thick cock. 

“scream my fucking name,” he said lowly, “that’s right — god, you feel so good.” 

he let out a low groan as he felt your walls tighten up around him, and he watched your every move as your orgasm washed over you. you looked so beautifully fucked out and mindless with every fleeting moment — it was perfection. 

it didn’t take long for jonathan to come after seeing you like this for him, and he let out a low groan, giving you a few more harsh, deep thrusts before filling you up completely with his sticky cum. he looked down at you quietly as he propped himself up above you on his arms one more, taking off his burlap mask and tossing it to the side. 

you gave your boyfriend a soft smile, letting out a huff of air as you rested your head on the satin pillows behind you.

“wow…” you said, trailing off into a soft chuckle. 

“i love seeing you all ruined for me,” he told you, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “you’re something else, you know that?”

he helped you get cleaned up afterwards, making sure to be extremely gentle and caring towards you despite almost breaking you in two just minutes prior. after he had you tucked into bed, he placed a kiss on the top of your head as you snuggled into the covers.

“i’m going to go shower,” he said casually, “go to bed, sweetheart. you’ve had a long night.”

“mm,” you mumbled sleepily, “come to bed afterwards.”

“i will,” he assured you, placing one more kiss on your head, and another softly on your lips. “...i love you.” 

“i love you too,” you said softly, yawning as you found comfort in the sheets. “goodnight, scarecrow.” 

your sleepy words caused him to let out a quiet chuckle as he admired you. the light from the moon illuminated your face dimly as it casted down on you through the bedroom window. 

jonathan sighed to himself happily. 

you may have been catwoman to the outside world — sneaky and conniving — but to jonathan, you were just…you. those so-called claws of yours were nowhere to be seen as you slept peacefully in your shared bed, dozing off under the moonlight as you waited for him to come back to bed with you. 

“goodnight, sweetheart,” he said softly.

but you were already fast asleep — dreaming of him like always.

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[moonselune]

By the Silk that Binds Us (pt.8 )

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Matron!Minthara x Forced!Betrothed!reader

CW: murder, gore, suggestive scenes

An arranged marriage, enemies to lovers fic: part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven part nine

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The days following that night brought a shift between you and Minthara. The tension that had once crackled like a live wire between you both began to ease, replaced by something more complex—an uneasy truce, perhaps, but one laced with a thread of understanding. Despite this, your magic remained an uncontrollable tempest, its power unpredictable and dangerous, and the rebellion you had orchestrated still lingered in Minthara’s mind.

You threw yourself into the task of planning the upcoming ball that House Baenre was hosting, hoping that focusing on the details would keep your mind from the chaos within you. However, you found yourself constantly having to step away from your work, retreating to a quiet corner to try and reign in the wild surges of magic that threatened to escape. Servants watched you with growing concern, whispering among themselves as they saw the strain in your eyes, the way your hands trembled ever so slightly as you fought to keep your power in check.

“Should we fetch a healer, my lady?” one of them asked, her voice laced with worry.

“No,” you replied, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. Really.”

You weren’t fine, and they knew it, but none dared to press the issue further. They simply nodded and stepped back, continuing their tasks with a wariness that hadn’t been there before. Another servant approached you, bowing slightly as he spoke. “My lady, it is time to get ready.”

You sighed, the thought of facing another night of maintaining your composure exhausting you further. Still, you nodded and made your way to your quarters, mentally preparing yourself for the evening ahead.

When you entered your room, you found Minthara already there, in the midst of getting dressed. She was wearing a gown of deep crimson and black, the colors of House Baenre, the fabric clinging to her form in a way that accentuated every curve. You hated to admit it, but she looked beautiful, a sight that stirred something complicated within you.

Minthara caught your gaze in the mirror, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in your weary expression.

“You look like you’re about to drop,” she remarked, her voice casual but tinged with concern. “Have you used any of your magic today?”

“No,” you replied quickly, your tone firm. “I’m not risking hurting anyone, and I’m not going back to the depths of the Underdark. I’m handling it.”

Minthara’s lips curved into a bemused smile, but she didn’t press the issue. Instead, she stepped closer to you, her hands reaching out to help you with your dress. At first, you wanted to tell her you could manage it yourself, that you didn’t need her assistance. But as her fingers deftly worked the clasps and fastenings, you found yourself appreciating the help more than you expected.

When she was finished, you picked up the necklace—the collar—and passed it to her, a flicker of irritation flashing in your eyes as you did. Minthara caught the look but said nothing, taking the collar from you and stepping behind you to fasten it around your neck. Her touch was gentle, almost tender, as she adjusted the pendant to rest perfectly against your skin.

As she secured the clasp, she leaned in close, her breath warm against your ear.

“It suits you,” she murmured, her lips brushing the shell of your ear before pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. You sighed, rolling your eyes at the words, though you couldn’t deny the shiver that ran down your spine at her touch.

“We have a ball to attend,” you reminded her, trying to maintain your composure.

Minthara stepped back, her hands lingering on your shoulders for a moment longer before she released you. When you looked at her in the mirror, she was smiling—a smile that was all too familiar to you now, one that sent a chill of anticipation down your spine. It was a smile that promised something more, something you knew you wouldn’t like.

“Indeed we do,” Minthara replied, her voice laced with excitement. The look in her eyes as she turned away left you with a sense of foreboding. You had known her long enough to understand that nothing good ever came from that smile. And yet, despite the unease that settled in your stomach, you couldn’t help but feel that whatever was coming, you would face it head-on. There was no turning back now.

The ball was in full swing, and you found yourself in the center of it all, surrounded by guests who lavished you with praise. Compliments flowed like the wine being poured into goblets—your dress, your necklace, your impeccable taste, all admired by nobles and sycophants alike. It all blended into one monotonous drone, a never-ending stream of empty flattery that only added to the pounding in your head.

You had thought the pain couldn’t get any worse, but it had. The dull ache had transformed into a relentless, searing agony that pulsed in your temples, your neck, and down through your shoulders. It was as if your entire body was on edge, teetering on the brink of something you couldn’t control. You kept drinking wine, hoping it might dull the pain, but no matter how much you consumed, it was as if the alcohol refused to take hold. You were still painfully sober when Minthara noticed and cut you off, her eyes sharp as she took the goblet from your hand.

Before you could argue, Lesaonar appeared at your side, his usual grin plastered across his face. With a quick glance around to ensure Minthara wasn’t watching, he slipped you another glass of wine.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, his tone light, but there was genuine concern in his eyes.

You glared at him, not trusting yourself to speak without lashing out. The pain, the pressure, the noise—it was all becoming too much. Lesaonar opened his mouth to say something more but then caught sight of a young woman across the room, his expression shifting from concern to something more playful.

“Who is that?” he asked, his voice filled with a sudden eagerness. You followed his gaze and recognized the woman instantly.

“That’s Minthara’s second cousin, Melinoe,” you replied, a strain in your voice as you tried to manage the pain. “One of their best fighters.”

Lesaonar immediately straightened, smoothing his clothes and adjusting his stance, smoothing his hair out. “She is stunning,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite everything. “She’ll eat you alive, Lesaonar,” you warned, shaking your head.

Lesaonar winked at you, his grin widening. “At least I’ll die happy,” he quipped before striding off in Melinoe’s direction, his confidence radiating off him in waves.

You watched him go, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. But the moment of levity was short-lived. As soon as Lesaonar disappeared into the crowd, Minthara materialized at your side, her hand darting out to snatch the wine from your grasp.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed, her eyes narrowing.

“Having a drink,” you replied, your voice sharper than you intended. The pain in your head was getting worse, and your patience was wearing thin.

“We’ve talked about this,” Minthara said, her tone laced with irritation. “You’re not drinking anymore tonight.”

You rolled your eyes, your hand twitching with the urge to snatch the goblet back from her. “I’m fine, Minthara. Just leave it.”

“No, you’re not fine,” she snapped. “And we’re not going to make a scene here.”

“We wouldn’t be making a scene if you’d just let me—”

Before you could finish, the doors to the grand hall burst open with a thunderous crash, cutting your argument short. All heads turned towards the entrance as a group of armed figures stormed in, their weapons drawn and eyes blazing with a fanatical intensity. The room fell silent, the music dying out as guests scrambled to make sense of what was happening.

You recognized them immediately—the Seldarine extremists, a faction of elven zealots who had long opposed Lolth and everything she stood for. They were known for their ruthless attacks on drow strongholds, and now, it seemed, they had come for House Baenre.

Chaos erupted as the extremists fanned out across the room, their leader stepping forward to address the crowd. You could feel Minthara tense beside you, her hand instinctively reaching for the weapon she always kept hidden beneath her gown. Your own heart pounded in your chest, the pain in your head forgotten in the face of this new threat.

“Daughters and bastards of Lolth,” the leader spat, his voice ringing out across the hall. “Tonight, your tyranny ends.”

The room was frozen in shock, the guests too stunned to react. But you knew what was coming next, the violence that would inevitably follow. Minthara’s eyes locked onto yours, a silent understanding passing between you. You were hosting the ball, it was up to the two of you to deal with the vermin.

The air crackled with tension, and you could feel the magic within you stir, responding to the imminent danger. It was as if the tempest inside you had found its purpose, the chaos outside matching the storm that had been building within you for days.

The Seldarine extremists began to make their demands, their leader stepping forward with a sneer on his face.

“Hand over your young,” he declared, his voice ringing out with a fanatic’s conviction. “Free the innocent from Lolth’s grasp, or perish!”

A murmur of shock rippled through the assembled guests, but before anyone could react, you began to laugh. The sound echoed through the hall, loud and unrestrained, cutting through the tension like a knife. It wasn’t a nervous or incredulous laugh but one filled with a dark amusement that sent shivers down the spines of those present.

Without realizing it, you stepped forward, the crowd parting around you as if making way for the force of your presence. Minthara stood just behind you, her eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and pride as she watched you take command of the room.

You wiped a tear from your eye, your laughter dying down into a mirthful chuckle as you addressed the extremists.

“Really?” you said, your voice carrying an almost mocking tone. “You storm into the most powerful house in Menzoberranzan and demand we hand over our young? Or we perish?”

The extremists bristled, their leader snarling in response. But before he could shout something back, you raised your hand, and with a flick of your wrist, your magic surged forward, silencing them. The power within you, which had been simmering and bubbling under the surface for days, now practically hummed with anticipation, eager to be unleashed.

Your head no longer throbbed with pain; instead, it was filled with the intoxicating hum of your magic, a melody that sang for blood, for retribution. You could feel the eyes of every guest on you, and you relished the attention, the power that coursed through you as you let your magic flow freely.

“Fools,” you murmured, your voice dripping with disdain as you surveyed the extremists. “You’ve chosen the wrong house to make demands of.”

Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, you began to work your magic. It wasn’t enough to simply kill them; they needed to be an example, a warning to anyone who might think to challenge House Baenre—or you.

One by one, you picked them apart, using your powers to tear through their ranks. You transformed some of them halfway into driders, letting the grotesque transformation begin but not complete, so they died in agony, caught between two forms, their bodies breaking under the strain. The sight was horrifying, and their screams echoed in the grand hall, but you felt nothing but satisfaction as you watched them suffer.

Others, you mutilated with strands of divine silk, wrapping them in a web of your making, tightening it around their bodies until their blood seeped through the silk, leaving them to bleed out slowly. The silk shimmered in the dim light of the hall, beautiful in its deadliness, and you made sure everyone saw just how delicately you wielded your power.

Minthara watched, her eyes wide with awe, a twisted smile of approval playing on her lips. She had seen you use your magic before, but never like this. This was a display of pure, unrestrained power, and she could hardly tear her eyes away from the spectacle.

As the last of the Seldarine extremists crumpled to the ground, the silence in the grand hall was deafening. Blood pooled on the marble floors, the once pristine surfaces now stained with the crimson evidence of your wrath. The oppressive tension that had gripped the room during the attack remained, but it had shifted—no longer the tension of fear, but of awe and trepidation directed at you.

The power coursing through you was exhilarating, intoxicating. The pain in your head had vanished, replaced by the euphoria of having unleashed your magic in all its terrible glory. But as the adrenaline began to fade, you felt the toll it had taken on you. Your hands started to tremble, and the room swayed slightly as exhaustion threatened to drag you down. The power that had surged through you now felt like a weight, pressing down on you with the intensity of a thousand voices, each one whispering for more, demanding more.

Before you could stumble, Minthara was at your side. Her strong arms wrapped around you, holding you upright with a firmness that was both reassuring and infuriating. She was steady, her presence grounding you, but you could feel the tension in her grip, the realization that you had just displayed a level of power that even she had not fully anticipated.

“You’ve done enough,” she whispered, her voice low and meant only for your ears. “Let’s get you out of here.”

But before you could respond, a group of female nobles caught your attention, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. They were from rival houses, lesser in power but always eager to curry favor with the Baenre family. Yet now, seeing your vulnerability, they smelled blood in the water.

One of them, a tall, elegantly dressed woman with a sneer that barely hid her amusement, spoke up to the room.

“Such a display of power, from the mistress,” she drawled, her voice dripping with mockery. “But it seems she's exhausted herself. Perhaps the Matron should not have chosen her Mistress from the pits of the underdark."

The other nobles who hoped to undermine you snickered, their eyes gleaming with barely contained contempt. It was a grave mistake.

Minthara stiffened at your side, ready to lash out, but you stopped her with a raised hand. The anger that had begun to simmer within you flared into a blazing inferno and the violent adrenaline came racing back with a vengeance. How dare they? How dare they question your strength, your authority, after what they had just witnessed? The very thought of their insolence made your blood boil.

“You dare to mock me?” you hissed, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade. The nobles faltered, their smug expressions faltering as they realized the extent of their miscalculation, they had not expected you to make such a miraculous recovery.

Before they could react, you unleashed your fury upon them. You didn’t need grand gestures or complex spells—your power flowed with the ease of a predator toying with its prey. The first woman, the one who had spoken, found herself lifted off the ground by invisible tendrils of magic, her limbs splayed out as if on display. The others screamed, scrambling to flee, but they were no match for you. With a flick of your wrist, they were frozen in place, held by your will alone.

You could see the terror in their eyes as they realized there would be no mercy, no escape from the wrath they had provoked. You took your time, savoring the fear that radiated from them as you twisted the magic around them, each tendril tightening like a vice. Their screams echoed through the hall, blending with the shocked gasps of the onlookers.

Their deaths were not quick. You made sure of that. They suffered, their bodies contorting in unnatural angles as the magic tore through them, leaving them bloody and broken. The crowd watched in horrified silence, too terrified to intervene, too mesmerized by the brutality to look away.

As the last of the nobles succumbed to their fate, you felt a surge of energy flood back into you, as if their deaths had replenished the power you had spent. It was as if the blood they spilled had been a sacrifice to your magic, a dark offering that Lolth herself accepted with delight. The weakness that had threatened to overwhelm you was gone, replaced by a renewed strength that coursed through your veins with an exhilarating intensity.

Lolth was pleased.

You straightened, the tremor in your hands gone, the exhaustion replaced by a cold, focused determination. You turned to Minthara, who was watching you with a mixture of pride and something else—perhaps awe, or maybe a flicker of fear. It didn’t matter. You had shown everyone here who you truly were, and there would be no forgetting it.

“Meet me in our quarters,” you commanded, your voice leaving no room for argument.

Minthara inclined her head in acknowledgment, her eyes gleaming with approval.

“As you wish,” she replied, her tone reverent, almost hungry.

Without another word, you stormed out of the grand hall, your steps echoing in the stunned silence that followed. The doors to the hall slammed shut behind you, sealing off the carnage and the whispers of fear that would undoubtedly follow in your wake.

The night was not over, but for now, you needed to be alone—to let the tempest within you settle, to revel in the power you had unleashed and the chaos you had sown. You could feel the eyes of the nobles on your back as you left, the weight of their fear and respect settling around you like a cloak.

They would not forget what they had seen tonight. Neither would Minthara. But as you ascended the stairs to your quarters, one thought lingered in your mind, clear and cold:

You were no longer just a force to be reckoned with—you were a storm, and all who stood in your path would be swept away.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

As the door to your quarters slammed shut behind you, the tension that had been simmering throughout the night reached a boiling point. The remnants of the ball, the bloodshed, and the raw power you had unleashed still thrummed through your veins, a dark symphony that pulsed with every heartbeat. Your quarters, once a sanctuary, now felt charged with an energy that had no outlet, a storm contained within four walls.

Minthara walked in, her posture was relaxed, but her eyes were sharp, calculating as they traced every step you took toward her. She was no fool; she knew why you had summoned her, and the anticipation of the confrontation crackled in the air between you.

“You planned this,” you said, your voice low and laced with accusation. There was no question in your tone—only a statement of fact. “This was the fruit of your manipulations, wasn’t it?”

Minthara didn’t flinch or deny it. Instead, she met your gaze with a calm, steady look that spoke of someone who had nothing to hide.

“And if it was?” she replied, her tone as cool as her expression. “Would you be angry, or impressed?”

“I would be impressed,” you admitted, your voice tinged with bitter amusement, “if I weren’t so vexed by it.”

Minthara’s lips curled into a faint smile, one that held neither apology nor regret.

“I hope you’re not looking for an apology,” she said, her voice smooth and unyielding. “You won’t get one. You looked divine tonight, ethereal. The pain you’ve been suffering is gone, and I’m your wife. I won’t apologize for doing what was necessary to see you in your true form.”

You laughed, the sound echoing off the walls, dark and mirthless.

“Grateful? Like I should be grateful for this?” you asked, your hand gesturing toward the collar around your neck. The collar that had been a symbol of control, of submission. The collar that had marked you as hers. Without waiting for her response, you reached up and grasped the collar, your fingers tightening around it. With a surge of power, you pulled it from your neck, and it disintegrated in your hold, crumbling into dust that slipped through your fingers.

Minthara’s eyes narrowed as she watched the collar disintegrate, but she didn’t move. If she was surprised, she didn’t show it. Instead, she watched you with an intensity that was almost predatory, as if waiting to see what you would do next.

Emboldened by the dark power that roared through you, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you and Minthara. Her eyes flickered with something that might have been caution, but there was also desire there, simmering just beneath the surface.

“There are other ways to claim me, you know, ways for me to claim you,” you said, your voice dropping to a husky whisper as you stopped inches from her. Your breath mingled with hers, the air between you charged with anticipation.

Minthara’s eyes darkened, her pupils dilating as she took in the challenge in your gaze, the power that radiated from you like heat from a fire. She reached out, her hand cupping your cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over your skin. Her touch was possessive, yet tender, as if she was savoring the moment, the power shift between you.

“Then show me,” she murmured, her voice a low, dangerous purr that sent a thrill down your spine.

That was all the invitation you needed.

With a growl of desire, you closed the remaining distance between you, your lips crashing into hers with a force that was almost violent. There was nothing gentle about the kiss—it was a clash of wills, of power, of dominance. Minthara responded in kind, her hands tangling in your hair, pulling you closer as if she couldn’t get enough of you. The kiss was fierce, frenzied, a battle for control that neither of you was willing to lose.

The dark power within you surged, feeding off the intensity of the moment, amplifying every sensation until it felt as if you were drowning in it. Your hands roamed over Minthara’s body, fingers digging into her skin as you sought to claim her just as much as she sought to claim you. There was a desperation in your movements, a need to assert yourself, to prove that you were not just a pawn in her game.

Clothes were torn away with little regard for their worth, discarded carelessly as the two of you moved toward the bed. The room seemed to blur around you, the only clarity found in the heat of Minthara’s body against yours, the taste of her on your lips, the sound of her breath mingling with yours.

You pushed her down onto the bed, your hands pinning her wrists above her head as you leaned over her, your hair falling around your faces like a curtain. Her eyes were wild, pupils blown wide with desire, her chest heaving as she looked up at you with a mixture of defiance and need.

“You think you can control me,” you whispered against her lips, your voice a dangerous murmur. “But there’s a fire within me that can’t be tamed.”

Minthara’s lips curved into a wicked smile, her teeth grazing your bottom lip as she pulled you down into another searing kiss. “I don’t want to tame you,” she replied, her voice breathless yet filled with conviction. “I want to burn with you.”

And burn you did.

The night was a blur of passion and power, of dominance and submission, the lines between the two blurring until you were no longer sure where one ended and the other began. The dark magic within you flowed freely, unchecked, feeding off the intensity of your connection with Minthara. It was as if the power itself had become an extension of your desire, heightening every touch, every kiss, until it felt as if you might shatter under the weight of it.

But you didn’t shatter. Instead, you rose higher, the power lifting you both to a plane of pleasure that was almost transcendent. Minthara’s cries of pleasure filled the room, mingling with your own as you both lost yourselves in the frenzy of the moment.

When it was over, you lay together, bodies entwined, the remnants of your passion still simmering in the air. The power within you had settled, sated for now, but you could still feel its presence, a dark, comforting hum that resonated within your very soul.

Minthara’s fingers traced patterns on your skin, her touch gentle now, almost reverent. She looked at you with an expression that was equal parts admiration and respect, a look that told you that, in this moment, she saw you as her equal, her partner.

“You were magnificent,” she murmured, her voice filled with a rare softness that you had seldom heard from her.

You smiled, a small, satisfied smile that held the knowledge of your shared victory. “So were you,” you replied, your voice low and husky.

For a moment, you simply lay there, basking in the afterglow of the night’s events, the tension between you eased by the understanding that had been forged in the fire of your passion.

But as you closed your eyes, drifting off to sleep in Minthara’s arms, you knew that this was only the beginning. The power within you was still there, still waiting, and the game between you and Minthara was far from over.

There were still battles to be fought, still power to be claimed.

And together, you would face them, side by side, as equals.

You wake slowly, the haze of sleep lingering in your mind like a soft, comforting fog. Your body feels heavy but not unpleasantly so, as if still buzzing from the events of the previous night. The memories come back in fragments—the thrill of your power, the fear in the eyes of the nobles, the way Minthara had stood by your side through it all. You shift slightly, realizing with a start that for once, you've woken before her.

Minthara lies beside you, her face peaceful in sleep, a stark contrast to the fierce warrior you know so well. Her silver hair is tousled, spilling over the pillow and onto your chest. The sight stirs something deep within you, something you had been reluctant to acknowledge, but could no longer ignore.

Careful not to wake her, you gently draw her closer, slipping your arm around her waist and pressing her against you. She nestles into your embrace unconsciously, her breath warm against your skin. You allow your head to rest on her chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing, the rhythm soothing your still racing thoughts.

Your fingers find their way to her hair, stroking the silken strands with a tenderness that surprises even you. As you do, you feel the weight of what has been growing between you, something far deeper than mere physical attraction or the alliance forged in the heat of battle. Without needing to say the words, you know what it is—what it has become.

A small smile tugs at your lips as you lean down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. The gesture is intimate, far more so than any you've shared before. It’s as if by doing so, you’re acknowledging the bond between you, even if you’re not ready to say it out loud.

The kiss seems to stir her. Minthara shifts slightly, her eyes still closed, and she mumbles in a sleepy, teasing voice, "Are you trying to assassinate me?"

You chuckle softly, the sound low and warm in the quiet of the morning. "If I were, you'd already be dead," you reply, your tone light. "No, I’m just showing you a bit of affection."

One of her eyes cracks open, glinting with mischief as she regards you. "Affection?" she echoes, feigning shock. "Perhaps that display of magic last night affected you more than I originally thought."

You laugh, shaking your head at her teasing. "Don’t be ridiculous," you say, giving her a playful shove. But instead of moving away, Minthara only presses closer, her arms winding around you as she nuzzles against your neck.

For a moment, you simply hold her, enjoying the rare quiet and the warmth of her body against yours. The foolish words of "I love you" hover on the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill out before you can stop them. But just as you’re about to give voice to them, the door to your chambers swings open with a forceful bang, shattering the intimate moment.

The High Priestess of House Baenre strides in, her expression stern, eyes blazing with barely contained fury. The tension that had been momentarily absent returns in an instant, filling the room with a palpable charge.

She doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. "You’ve caused quite a stir," she begins, her voice sharp. "Your little display of power last night—what were you thinking, child? You’ve drawn far too much attention to yourself and to this house."

You can feel Minthara stiffen in your arms, but before you can respond, she sits up, fixing the High Priestess with a glare.

"Is that why you’re angry?" she demands, her tone cold and unyielding. "Because of the recklessness, or because you’re worried that people might start to believe she’s more powerful than you?"

The High Priestess’s gaze snaps to Minthara, her eyes narrowing in warning. "Mind your tongue, Minthara. This is not a game. There are forces at work that you do not fully understand."

"And you do?" Minthara shoots back, her voice dripping with challenge. "Or are you just afraid of what it means if she is more powerful?"

The High Priestess ignores Minthara's provocation and turns her attention back to you.

"People will start to ask questions about your power, about who you really are," she says, her voice lowering as if the walls themselves might be listening. "And if they find out that you are related to Eilistraee, it will cause chaos."

A cold, bitter laugh escapes you before you can stop it. "Eilistraee? Is that what you think?" You meet her gaze evenly, your voice steady and firm. "I am a descendant of Lolth. And even you would be wise to remember that."

For a moment, the High Priestess falters, her composure slipping just enough to reveal the doubt lurking beneath. But she recovers quickly, her expression hardening. "Be that as it may, the Seldarine will not care. If they realize who you are—what you could stand for—there will be a reckoning. For you, and for this house."

With that, she turns on her heel and sweeps out of the room, leaving behind a silence thick with unresolved tension. Minthara sighs deeply, the sound filled with frustration and exasperation.

"I much preferred it when the High Priestess was more involved in our sex life than in our political one," she mutters, her tone dry.

Despite the gravity of the situation, you can’t help but laugh. "Careful," you warn, your voice light. "She might hear you."

Minthara smirks, finally relaxing against you once more. "Let her. We have more important things to worry about."

You nod, your thoughts racing. The High Priestess’s words had been meant to admonish, to warn, but they had only solidified your resolve. Whatever was coming—whatever reckoning might be on the horizon—you knew you would face it head-on, just as you had everything else. And as Minthara settled against you once more, you realized that you wouldn’t be facing it alone.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Dismissing the High Priestess' words with ease, a lightness in your step, you get dressed, opting for one of the new Baenre-colored outfits. Minthara had returned to her duties, dealing with the aftermath of last night. Humming a tune, you make your way through the grand halls of House Baenre, greeting the servants and nobles you pass. Their surprised glances don’t bother you—in fact, they amuse you. Today, nothing could bring you down.

Your wanderings take you to the dormitory where the younger girls of the house reside. As you enter, the girls look up from their morning routines, eyes wide with excitement. They swarm around you, eager to hear about the events of the ball last night. Their questions come rapid-fire, each one more enthusiastic than the last.

"What was it like?" one of the girls asks, eyes sparkling with awe.

"Did you really fight off those intruders all by yourself?" another chimes in.

"Is it true you made a noble’s head explode just by looking at them?"

You chuckle, feeling a warmth in your chest at their admiration. “Yes, yes,” you say, holding up your hands to quiet them down, “but that’s not why I’m here today.” You glance around the room, a playful glint in your eye. “I’ve decided that training is cancelled.”

The girls gasp, exchanging shocked and excited looks. Before they can process what that means, you continue, “Instead, we’re going on an excursion. Into the Underdark wilderness.”

Their excitement is palpable, and they immediately start chattering amongst themselves, rushing to get into their armor. The thought of an adventure, especially one led by you, has them buzzing with anticipation. As the girls prepare, Tirael, steps in. She looks at you with a mix of concern and respect.

“Mistress,” she begins carefully, “while you do not need the Matron’s permission for such an excursion, it would be wise to inform her of your plans.”

You wave off her concern with a dismissive gesture. “Minthara will understand,” you say confidently, your mood too buoyant to worry about the repercussions.

Tirael hesitates for a moment, clearly weighing the options, but she can see that your mind is made up. With a respectful nod, she acquiesces. “As you wish, Mistress.”

The girls, now fully armored and armed, line up excitedly, ready for whatever lies ahead. You can feel their energy feeding into yours, and as you lead them out of the dormitory, you can’t help but feel a thrill of excitement yourself. The Underdark wilderness is vast and dangerous, but with your newfound strength and control, you’re confident that today will be yet another testament to your growing power.

As you march through the halls, the girls trailing behind you in a disciplined line, you can’t help but smile. Today is going to be a good day.

Then the young girls, who were just moments ago buzzing with excitement, suddenly stiffen, their postures snapping to attention. You follow their gaze and spot Minthara approaching, her presence commanding immediate respect and fear among the younger drow.

But you? You pay no heed to the tension around you. With the same buoyant energy that has been carrying you all morning, you glide over to Minthara, your smile unbothered by the weight of her stern gaze.

"Minthara, darling," you say, your voice light and teasing, "the girls and I are heading out for a little adventure into the Underdark wilderness. You should come with us. It’ll be fun.”

Minthara regards you with a mixture of amusement and irritation, a brow arching as if to silently question your audacity.

“I have work to do,” she replies curtly, her tone leaving little room for argument. You sigh dramatically, rolling your eyes with an exaggerated flair.

“Ah, always the diligent one,” you say, turning your back to her as you begin to walk back to the girls. “The matron is too boring to join us, girls,” you announce loudly, causing a few of the girls to giggle nervously. Then, in an exaggeratedly loud whisper, you lean towards them, “Really, she’s just a scaredy cat.”

The girls’ eyes widen in shock and amusement at your audacity, while a few stifle their laughter behind their hands. Minthara, standing behind you, lets out a huff of frustration, her lips curling into a thin line. She’s clearly irked by your teasing, and you know just how to push her buttons. You glance over your shoulder, giving her a playful wink, fully expecting her to stand her ground and scold you in the process.

Instead, Minthara’s eyes narrow, and in a tone dripping with challenge, she snaps, “Fine. I’ll join you, but don’t expect me to rescue you if you get into trouble.”

The girls, barely able to contain their excitement, exchange eager glances. The thought of the matron joining them on such a dangerous outing fills them with both trepidation and a fierce desire to impress her. You simply smile, pleased with yourself for goading her into coming along.

Once outside, the group mounts their spiders, the massive arachnids clicking their mandibles in anticipation. As you make your way to your own mount, you notice Minthara getting ready to take her place atop her spider. An idea pops into your head, and with a mischievous grin, you swiftly slip in front of her just as she’s about to mount.

Without a word, you take the reins from her hands, feeling her sharp intake of breath as she stares at you in disbelief. For a moment, the air between you is thick with tension, her ruby eyes boring into yours with a mix of shock and irritation.

“How bold of you,” she murmurs, the words carrying both a hint of admiration and a clear warning. You simply grin up at her, unbothered by the potential consequences.

“Well, you know me,” you say with a playful shrug.

Minthara’s gaze doesn’t waver as she snatches the reins back from you, her expression unreadable. But instead of shoving you aside, allowing you to fall into the dirt, she surprises you by allowing you to remain where you are, in front of her on the spider. She clicks her tongue, commanding the spider to move, and it responds instantly, its legs moving with eerie grace as it carries both of you towards the Underdark wilderness.

The girls, now even more eager to impress with Minthara in attendance, follow closely behind, their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear. You can’t help but feel a thrill of satisfaction. Not only have you managed to drag Minthara into your plans, but you’ve also secured a spot in the best seat possible—right in front of her.

As you lead the procession into the dark expanse of the Underdark, you can feel Minthara’s presence behind you, solid and reassuring, even if tinged with annoyance. The wild, untamed energy of the Underdark beckons, and with your wife and the young Baenre girls in tow, you’re more than ready to face whatever comes next.

With the spiders securely tethered and the guards standing vigilant, you lead the group toward a narrow crevice in the stone, hidden away from prying eyes. The girls, wide-eyed and full of nervous excitement, follow your every move, their whispers barely audible over the distant echoes of the Underdark. You pause at the entrance, throwing them a mischievous wink before stepping into the darkness. In an instant, you drop and disappear from view.

Minthara’s eyes narrow as she watches you vanish. Though wary, she quickly gestures for the girls to follow her.

"Stay close and don’t wander," she commands, her tone leaving no room for disobedience. With that, she steps into the crevice, vanishing into the shadows.

A split second later, Minthara finds herself freefalling into the abyss, the sensation of weightlessness both startling and exhilarating. Just as quickly, she lands softly on a bed of thick, sponge-like mushrooms, their surface yielding beneath her feet. She takes a moment to steady herself, her eyes adjusting to the dim light that begins to illuminate her surroundings.

What she sees takes her breath away.

The cove is a hidden gem within the Underdark, a secret sanctuary bathed in the ethereal glow of bioluminescent fungi and crystals embedded in the cave walls. The light reflects off the surfaces, casting a myriad of colors that dance across the stone. Spiders, each one appearing as though they were sculpted from precious gems, scuttle about, their bodies shimmering with the same bioluminescence that lights the cave. The webs they spin glisten like threads of silver, catching the light in a dazzling display.

Minthara, typically so composed and fierce, finds herself momentarily awestruck. This place, so secluded and beautiful, is a stark contrast to the harshness of the Underdark she’s accustomed to. She barely notices you as you walk by her, a smile playing on your lips as you help the other girls make their descent.

One by one, the young drow leap from the crevice, landing on the soft mushrooms with quiet gasps of surprise and wonder. Their usual bravado and discipline give way to wide-eyed astonishment as they take in their surroundings. Once everyone has gathered, you turn to them, your voice firm but soft.

“This is a sacred place,” you say, your tone commanding their attention. “Be quiet, don’t touch anything, and stay close. We are guests here.”

The girls nod eagerly, their eyes darting around in awe as they follow you and Minthara deeper into the cove. The atmosphere is thick with anticipation, every footstep echoing faintly against the cave walls. The deeper you go, the more vibrant the glow becomes, until you reach the heart of the cove.

There, in the center of the chamber, sits the Spider Matriarch.

The creature is enormous, easily towering over even the largest of the Baenre guards. Her body shimmers like she’s been carved from a single, flawless diamond, each facet catching the light and reflecting it in dazzling arrays. Her many eyes, each a deep, dark gemstone, survey the intruders with a cold, calculating intelligence.

Minthara immediately steps in front of the girls, her hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of her weapon. Her protective stance is unwavering, even as she recognizes the power and majesty of the creature before her. She spares you a glance, questioning, as if asking whether this was all part of your plan.

“Wait here,” you instruct, your voice calm and steady. You step forward, moving with deliberate grace toward the Spider Matriarch. The air is thick with tension as you approach, the girls watching with bated breath. Minthara’s grip tightens on her weapon, ready to strike if necessary.

When you reach the Matriarch, you lower yourself into a ritualistic bow, your movements precise and respectful. The chamber is silent, the only sound the faint rustling of the smaller spiders as they move about their webbed domain. For a moment, nothing happens, and the tension in the air is almost unbearable.

Then, slowly, the Matriarch’s massive body shifts, her many legs relaxing as she acknowledges your presence. The danger passes, and the aura of threat dissipates, replaced by a silent understanding.

You straighten, turning back to the group with a beckoning gesture. “It’s safe,” you say, your voice breaking the silence. “Come forward.”

The girls, still wide-eyed with wonder, hesitate for only a moment before they begin to move, their steps tentative as they approach the Matriarch. Minthara is the last to follow, her eyes still sharp and alert, but there’s a new respect in her gaze as she looks at you.

As the group gathers closer to the Matriarch, you can see the awe in their faces, the reverence in their movements. This experience is one they will carry with them, a memory etched into their minds as they step further into their roles within House Baenre.

And as you stand there, surrounded by the luminous beauty of the cove, you can’t help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. The Matriarch, the wonder in the girls’ eyes, and even Minthara’s begrudging respect—all of it reaffirms your place, your power, in this world beneath the surface.

You reach out, your hand gentle as it strokes the crystalline surface of the Spider Matriarch’s body. Her hard, gem-like exterior glimmers under your touch, refracting the light in dazzling patterns across the cave walls. At first, she remains still, her many eyes observing you intently. Then, to the amazement of everyone present, the Matriarch begins to nuzzle into your hand, her massive form shifting closer, almost like an old friend seeking comfort. The connection between you and the ancient creature is palpable, a silent understanding that needs no words.

The girls are utterly captivated by the sight, their expressions a mix of awe and disbelief. You can feel their eyes on you, watching every movement as if this were some sacred ritual they had been granted the rarest of privileges to witness. The youngest of the group, hesitant and unsure, clings to the edge of your cloak, her small fingers gripping the fabric tightly. You turn to her with a warm, reassuring smile.

“It’s alright,” you whisper softly, your voice soothing. “She won’t harm you.”

The girl looks up at you, her wide eyes filled with uncertainty, but she nods. Encouraged by your words, she takes a tentative step forward. One by one, you introduce the girls to the Matriarch, guiding their hands as they reach out to touch the massive creature. Some of the older girls are more confident, their hands steady as they make contact with the Matriarch’s gleaming form, while the younger ones are more apprehensive, inching closer only after your gentle reassurances.

“See?” you say, your tone light and encouraging. “She’s as gentle as she is powerful.”

The Matriarch remains still, her calm demeanor helping to ease the girls' nerves. Gradually, they relax, their initial fear giving way to wonder as they realize just how special this moment is. The younger ones, still slightly wary, nevertheless follow your lead, stepping closer to the Matriarch and letting their small hands glide over her gleaming surface.

You then look over at Minthara, who has been quietly observing the interaction. Her usual stern expression has softened, and there’s a faint smile playing on her lips—a rare sight indeed. You can see something playing on her mind as she looks at you and the girls, but you simply cannot place it. You beckon her to join you, a silent invitation that she accepts after a moment’s hesitation.

Minthara approaches the Matriarch with measured steps, her hand extending to touch the creature’s side. The Matriarch doesn’t react with the same familiarity she showed you, but she allows Minthara’s touch, her massive eyes meeting Minthara’s in what seems like an acknowledgment of respect.

One of the older girls, emboldened by the experience, remarks with a grin, “I think this is the first time I’ve seen the Matron smile when someone didn’t get hurt.”

A ripple of laughter runs through the group, lightening the mood even further. Minthara’s smile deepens just a fraction, and though she doesn’t respond, there’s a glint of amusement in her eyes.

As the girls begin to explore the cove, playing with the spiderlings that scuttle around them, you and Minthara find a quiet spot to sit together, watching the scene unfold. The atmosphere is peaceful, almost serene, the cove’s natural beauty providing a rare respite from the harshness of the Underdark.

Minthara glances at you, curiosity evident in her gaze. “How did you come to know of this place?” she asks, her voice quieter than usual. “Of these creatures?”

You lean back slightly, your eyes tracing the delicate patterns of bioluminescent fungi on the cave walls as you consider your response.

“My mother,” you begin, your voice steady but laced with old, buried emotions, “used to abandon me in the wilderness when my powers became too much for her to handle. She called it a test, a way to teach me control, but it was more about survival. Either I would learn to control my magic or I would die out there, alone.”

You pause, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you recall those early days, looking back on the horror like a funny joke. Minthara’s eyes darken, however, her expression hardening at the thought. But she remains silent, waiting for you to continue.

“It was during one of those times,” you say, your gaze drifting to the Matriarch, “when I was left to fend for myself that I found this place. Or maybe it found me. I was dehydrated, half-mad with exhaustion, my magic out of control. I remember stumbling through the dark, barely able to see straight, when I came across this cove. It felt like a dream, or maybe a hallucination brought on by desperation.”

“When my magic finally calmed down, when I was no longer on the brink of death, I made my way back to the house,” you continue. “But the cycle would repeat. Every time I lost control, every time my power threatened to consume me, I’d end up back here. The Matriarch became my sanctuary, a place where I could regain control, where I could be myself without fear.”

Minthara is silent for a moment, processing what you’ve told her. Her gaze shifts to the Matriarch, who remains still and watchful, her crystalline eyes reflecting the glow of the fungi.

“Your mother was a coward, it is an honour to have slain her, one albeit I wish I reserved for you,” Minthara finally says, her voice low but firm.

If she was more thoughtful of her words she would have realised that perhaps bringing up the fact that she murdered your mother, may 'ruin the moment', but she didn't care, and it seemed neither did you. (Somewhere, Kyorlin was seething for no particular reason).

Minthara continued, “She couldn’t face your power, so she left you to fend for yourself. But I’m glad she did. If she hadn’t, you might never have found this place.. And you might never have found your way to me.”

Her affection effects you more than you were prepared for and you feel a light blush grace your cheeks as Minthara reaches to hold your hand. are a mixture of truth and a comfort you hadn’t expected. You feel a strange sense of relief, as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Despite everything, despite the pain and the harshness of your upbringing, the hand life had dealt you, something good had come from it.

You smile, a genuine warmth filling your chest. “You’re right,” you say softly. “I did find my way to you.”

Minthara’s expression softens even more, a rare and precious sight. “And for that, I am grateful,” she murmurs, her thumb carressing the top of your hand.

The connection between you two feels stronger, real. Your eyes are mesmerised by hers and before you realise what you are doing, you lean forward and press your forehead against hers. You can see Minthara panic slightly, unused to such genuine tenderness towards herself, something that was innocent - not a product of lust. You softly kiss her lips, and Minthara's eyes flutter shut, basking in the warmth of your touch. This kiss is chaste, tender, and when you pull away you rest your forehead once more on hers. Words settle on your tongue, screaming to be said, the three little words you knew would change everything once spoken, that dared to escape you this very morning. Your breath hitches in anticipation as you go to start your confession.

"Minthara, I-"

"-Mistress, Matron, look what we found!" A small group of the younger girls approach you, the youngest clasping something in her hands. You smile and move away from Minthara, your attention soley on the girls, not on the maelstrom of emotions that were pounding in your heart. You didn't look back to Minthara, but if you had, you would see her continuing to stare at you wistfully, as if pretending to hear what she was hoping you were going to say.

"What is it ladies?" You ask, your cheeks still a faint red and you smiled bashfully at them. The youngest shows you her open palms and nestled in them is a red crystal with black streaks running through it, and it is vital to note, that it is shaped as a heart.

"We uh, we uh thought you and the matron might like this, because it is our house colors." The young girl told you, her eye flicking nervously to Minthara, as if she expected her to suddenly smack it out of her hand, and scold her for such juvenile thoughts.

"This is beautiful and a perceptive find. Thank you." Minthara said to them, softly taking it out of the girls hand and putting it up to the light and admiring it as it shined. "We will cherish it, won't we wife?"

"We will, thank you ladies." You smile and nod to them, the girls are overhwelmed with surprise and they bow their heads before scampering off, as if not to test their luck. Before you can turn to Minthara and ask her if perhaps she hit her head on the way down here, or if she accidentally inhaled some sort of rogue fungus, Minthara speaks first.

“It was good of you to bring the girls here, but I must ask why?” she asks, running the crystal through her hands, nodding toward the young drow who were now completely re-absorbed in their exploration.

"They needed to see this," you say softly, your voice carrying the weight of your intentions. "To understand that there’s more to power than just strength and fear. There’s beauty in it too, a kind of grace. I wanted them to see that, to feel it, to know it."

Minthara is silent, her gaze turning inward as she contemplates your words. The harsh lines of her face soften as she looks back at the girls, watching them with an unreadable expression.

“You’ve given them a gift today,” she murmurs, almost as if she’s speaking to herself.

A genuine warmth spreads through you as you smile at her, the gesture unguarded. “We’ve given them a gift, Minthara. You agreed to come, after all. I doubt they would have been half as excited if you weren’t here.”

She lets out a huff, a sound meant to mask the warmth your words bring her. “Only because you called me a scaredy-cat,” she mutters, though the faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth betrays her.

You laugh softly, the sound mingling with the distant echoes of the girls’ laughter. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

Minthara rolls her eyes, but there’s no real irritation there. Instead, she hands you the heart-shaped crystal the young girls had presented to the both of you. "So, tell me, Princess of Spiders, what type of crystal is this?"

You chuckle at the playful endearment and take the crystal from her, turning it over in your hand as if appraising it. "As the most regal Princess of the Spiders, I can assure you, this is no ordinary crystal."

Minthara lets out a breathless laugh, her smirk widening. "Oh, don’t tell me it’s imbued with some mystical power. Is it filled with the power of love?"

You hold her gaze, your expression completely serious. "Oh no, dearest, this is most definitely a crystallized human ear."

Minthara pauses, her smirk faltering as she searches your face for any hint of a joke. When she realizes you’re not jesting, her eyes widen slightly before she snatches the crystal back from you, inspecting it with ruthless scrutiny. You can’t help but chuckle at her reaction.

"When these creatures are done with their prey, they crystallize the remains," you explain, your tone matter-of-fact. "Think of it as their method of preserving rations."

Minthara’s gaze sweeps over the cavern, taking in the glittering crystals that adorn the walls. "So you’re telling me that this cove—covered in what I assumed were beautiful crystals—is actually adorned with corpses and carcasses?"

"Yep," you confirm with a casual shrug.

She shakes her head, a wry grin spreading across her face. "This outing could not get any better."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The bioluminescent glow of the fungi intensifies, casting a mesmerizing light throughout the cove. The girls, who had been laughing and playing with the spiderlings, are now starting to show signs of exhaustion. You know it’s time to leave, to return to the more controlled chaos of House Baenre, but you’re reluctant to break the spell of this serene place.

You start gathering the girls, calling them to attention with a gentle but firm voice. They gather around you, still chattering excitedly about the day’s adventure, the Matriarch, and the spiderlings they’ve befriended. As you prepare to lead them back out of the cove, a sudden movement in the corner of your eye catches your attention.

A group of larger crystalline spiders, adults by the size of them, scuttle into the cove from a darkened tunnel. At first, it’s easy to dismiss their presence—they’re simply returning to their home—but then you see what they’re dragging behind them. It’s a creature, half-alive, its body twisted and broken, eyes wide with terror. The spiders are efficient in their brutality, their fangs piercing flesh with practiced ease, venom paralyzing their prey even as they wrap it in silken threads.

The scene is vicious and savage, the spiders working with a kind of natural precision that is both horrifying and, in a way, beautiful. The cycle of life and death, survival and dominance, all playing out before your eyes. The girls, who had been so carefree moments before, fall silent as they notice what’s happening. Their wide eyes are glued to the scene, shock and fear rippling through the group. You see this as a teachable moment, one that they won’t soon forget.

“This,” you say, your voice carrying the weight of the lesson you’re about to impart, “is what happens if you do not show respect to these creatures. They may seem playful, even gentle at times, but they are still predators, deadly and merciless.”

The girls exchange nervous glances, the realization dawning on them that the same spiderlings they had been playing with not long ago will one day grow into the very creatures before them. The spiders continue their work, oblivious to the audience they’ve garnered, their focus solely on their prey.

The youngest among the girls, who had been clinging to your side most of the day, looks up at you with wide, scared eyes.

“They were so nice to us,” she whispers, her voice trembling slightly. “But they could have...”

You nod, acknowledging her unspoken fear. “They could have,” you confirm, your tone gentle but firm. “But you showed them respect, and they returned it. That’s how you survive in the Underdark. Respect, understanding, and knowing when to fight and when to retreat.”

Minthara, who has been silently watching the scene unfold, steps forward, her presence commanding and reassuring.

“Remember what you’ve seen today,” she adds, her voice steady. “This is the world we live in. Strength and respect are what keep us alive. Never forget that.”

The girls nod, absorbing the gravity of her words. They’ve seen brutality before—life in the Underdark ensures that—but this is different. This is a reminder that even in a place of beauty, danger is never far away. It’s a lesson that will stay with them, shaping their understanding of the world they inhabit.

You give the signal, and the group begins to move, following you and Minthara back toward the entrance of the cove. The mood is more somber now, the earlier excitement tempered by what they’ve witnessed. The spiderlings, now forgotten, retreat into the shadows as the girls file out, their small, bright red eyes watching from the darkness.

As you help the last of the girls out of the crevice, you cast one final glance back at the cove. The Matriarch watches you, her massive eyes reflecting the light of the fungi. There’s a sense of finality to the moment, as if the cove itself is bidding you farewell, a silent promise that it will be here when you need it again.

Minthara is the last to leave, and as she emerges from the crevice, she pauses beside you, her gaze lingering on the entrance to the cove.

“You’ve taught them more today than they’ll learn in a hundred lessons back at the house,” she murmurs, her voice carrying a note of admiration.

“I hope so,” you reply with a smile. “They need to understand the world they’re growing up in. The dangers, the beauty, and the balance between the two.”

The journey back to House Baenre begins as the group mounts their spiders, the creatures responding to their riders with a mixture of familiarity and respect. You move to the front, confidently claiming your place in front of Minthara on her mount. The large arachnid shifts beneath you, its many legs moving in a fluid rhythm as you take hold of the reins. For a moment, Minthara hesitates, watching you with those sharp, discerning eyes, but she doesn’t object. Instead, she leans forward into your back, her presence a warm, reassuring weight as you guide the spider forward.

The ride home is quieter than the journey to the cove. The girls, though still chatting amongst themselves, are noticeably subdued, their minds clearly occupied by the lessons learned and the sights witnessed.

As you approach the gates of House Baenre, the familiar spires rising ominously against the cavern’s ceiling, the girls’ spirits lift slightly. They’re exhausted but content, their excitement tempered by the day’s events. You dismount first, helping the youngest of the girls down from her spider before turning to Minthara.

"Are you going to join us for dinner?" you ask, the hope in your voice betraying your desire for just a bit more time together before the responsibilities of your respective roles claim you.

Minthara smiles softly, but there’s a note of regret in her expression as she shakes her head. "I’d like to, but there’s work that demands my attention today."

You nod in understanding, though disappointment tugs at your heart. "I’ll see you later then," you reply, letting her go without further insistence. She watches you for a moment longer before turning towards her study, her steps purposeful and brisk.

The evening passes quietly as you join the girls for dinner. Their energy has returned somewhat, and the meal is filled with chatter about the day’s adventure. You smile, encouraging their enthusiasm, but your thoughts keep drifting back to Minthara. When the meal ends and the girls are finally sent to their beds, you retreat to your chamber, expecting Minthara to join you soon.

But as the hours stretch on, and she still hasn’t come to bed, a knot of worry forms in your chest. Something doesn’t feel right. You slip out of bed, your feet barely making a sound as you move through the darkened halls of House Baenre. The path to Minthara’s study is familiar, but tonight, it feels longer, the silence more oppressive.

When you reach the door to her study, you hesitate, a sense of foreboding washing over you. Slowly, you push the door open, and the sight that greets you makes your blood run cold.

Minthara is slumped against her desk, her breathing labored as she struggles to pull a dagger from her abdomen. Her fingers, slick with blood, slip against the hilt, and a pained grimace mars her usually composed features. On the floor beside her, a dead brutalized Seldarine assassin lies motionless, a testament to the viscious fight that had just taken place. Minthara's eyes light up when she sees you, and as if she now knows she is in your hands, she collapses in a heap, her own spilt blood bathing her.

You thought you had felt fear before.

But not like this.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

mwhahahahahahahahahhahahaha

did you really think it would all be sunshine and roses? In this series?!?

I think we can officially ascertain that we are now in the lovers era. I am so SO excited for the direction I am taking this series and I think you guys will love it too!

I think this is the fluffiest chapter I have written for this series (I'm writing this and just remembering the brutal murders I wrote at the beginning - whoops!)

Anyway, let me know what you guys think, i love and cherish every like and comment. Love you all !

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

^As a note; I want to again thank every person who has bought me a coffee, I am in my struggle era rn with unemployment and being completely independent. I also want to thank every single person who has left a nice comment either on a post or in my inbox, all of you are truly the reason this blog keeps running and I stay sane. So thank you.^

taglist:

@mimetoist @h-doodles @mimetoist @thepotatoislost @needyformilfs @longjohnsilverfish @spacezombiez @les-bee @gaysindistress @morganaspet @wineredsea @coratheninth @i-must-say-thats-quite-gay @trappedinafantasy37 @alicelufenia

[ephemeral--dreams]

blood and grenadine

Scar/Reader

Word count: 1,531

Rating: M

Warnings: Scar is his own warning...!

Notes: feral cat reader who cannot accept affection is very important to me thanks. anyway I haven't stopped thinking about scar for a month. get him out of my head

☆ ☾ ☆ ──────────────────

You grit your teeth. It's getting tiring, the way he kept doing this. No, it is stressful. The way he goes around taking people you care about or causing mass destruction to get your attention. You worry that he's going to end up killing someone before you ever get there to confront him. Someone could get hurt, and it'll be your fault, because he's only targeting them because of his obsession with you. You wish he'd just come after you directly instead of doing all this. You don't like these little games he plays.

It's a typical but no less frustrating sight to show up to fire everywhere and screaming and him waiting for you expectantly. His head tilts. “What a coincidence. I've been expecting you.”

“Don't call it a coincidence when you did this on purpose,” it comes out scathing, sharp. He only smiles pleasantly.

“Why stop doing something that brings results? You should stop giving me what I want by showing up. You're conditioning me~”

“You can't-” you look away, trying not to simmer in your own guilt. It's stupid. You know it. He'd caused chaos before you and he'd do it whether you came or not. But you still feel as if it's your fault. If you could manage to stop him then these things wouldn't keep happening, but he always seems to get away after he has his fun. “What do I have to do to make you stop, then?”

It's worth a try. Maybe there's something he wants. Something you can get for him or… you don't know. Anything.

“Stop?” he laughs, as if the very idea is absolutely hilarious to him. Some thin thread inside of you snaps. You can't do this anymore. This cycle of violence. Innocent people getting hurt. The feeling of being helpless against it all.

“This is about me, isn't it? Then come after me. You want to fight? Then I will fight you. You want to hurt someone? Hurt me. Leave out the extra steps to get my attention. You don't need to involve anyone else.”

He's silent for a long moment as he stares at you. It's unusual for him to stop talking. But there's some sort of interest. That's what you're betting on. 

“Do you have any idea what you're offering?”

“I'm offering whatever you want.”

The expression that spreads across his face sends a shiver down your spine, his grin razorblade sharp conflicting with the strange infatuation in his eyes as he steps closer, heat radiating as he steps into your space. You resist the urge to step back. “You. Be mine for the night, and everyone here gets to run free! Isn't it a fair deal?”

There's all kinds of implications there that you don't like. God only knows what exactly he plans to do. Giving him free reign over you for even a night is a terrible, terrible idea. But does your safety really matter in comparison to that of others?

It doesn't. 

“...Fine. It's a deal.”

“You've made an excellent choice, little lamb. Let's not waste time,” the portal opens before you are given even a single chance to second guess, a hand on your shoulder coaxing you through. “Come, come. We'll have a good time, I promise. You'll want to join me when I'm done with you~”

☆

You're so tense. You always are. It's one of the easiest things to notice about you. Though it's rather troublesome when what he needs from you is for you to trust him, let him get into your head. 

“...What do you want me to do,” you ask the moment you're both through the portal, not even a moment to get your bearings. Straight to business. 

"Patience, dearest," Scar murmurs, hand still wrapped around yours in a one-sided grip as he leads you through the maze of halls. "First, we must prepare. Sometimes in order to experience the best in life, you have to shed the old.”

Your silence is uneasy, terse. You're waiting for the other shoe to drop, he can tell. It's like you think he's going to do something awful! As if he would, now that he's finally gotten a chance to get his hands on you in a way that isn't a mere fight. You simply don't appreciate how much effort he goes to just to get you to look at him. You act as if he's always out to torment you for the sake of it. 

Which he's not. His intentions are so clear! How haven't you realized it yet? The obliviousness is as endearing as it is frustrating. It's because you don't think of anything but the weight of the world. Stupid, overly self sacrificial little lamb. Not tonight.

He tugs you through his bedroom to the connecting bathroom. You stand in the corner watching warily as he sets the faucet on the tub running, debating which of the oils he wants to put in. What would you like? He knows so much about you but not such simple things. If only you weren't so resistant. He puts in what reminds him most of your perfume after a long moment of contemplation. Then he moved to light some candles. Too dark in here. Scar paid attention to every detail, setting the mood for the evening.

The water steams as he shuts off the stream. He turns to you expectantly, then moves to guide you over himself when you don't come over. “Well?” If you're not going to undress yourself he has no issue helping you along. 

You look at him. You look at the water. You look back. Suspicious. Hmph. You think a simple bath is an attempt to drown you, is that it? What a warped imagination. He's never met someone so overly cautious. “Little lamb, it's just a bath. You've got ash on you from all that chaos earlier, hm? Get in, come on.”

You look no less defensive over it, movements stiff as you obey regardless, clothing neatly folded as it is removed before you sink into the water with the kind of hesitance that feels entirely out of place for what is supposed to be a moment of relaxation. That's all it is. He just wants to ease the tension. That's it! 

He thinks that it's a good thing the tub is big enough for two, as he strips and slips in behind you. 

"Little lamb, relax," Scar's voice is quiet, his hands on your shoulders, kneading them. All the while, you remain stiff, a contrast to the warmth of the water. You really think he's going to harm you, don't you? Skittish. Perhaps that's not so surprising, but.. He lets out a soft sigh. Adorable, but so difficult. “Enjoy it. I’m not the grasping hand all the time, dearest.”

“You're a violent maniac,” is all you say in response.

“And you're too tense,” He feels a bit like he's coaxing a feral cat into accepting affection. It's as endearing as it is pitiful. Do you even know how to relax, he wonders? With how much you burden yourself with things he wouldn't be surprised if the answer was no. You almost seem more distressed when he's here being gentle with you than when he tries to attack you. As if it's all a complete and utter shock to your system. “It would do you good to let go of things. You can't can't carry so much weight forever, you know.”

You let out a quiet huff, but are otherwise silent. Is the idea really so preposterous to you? 

A little of the tension starts to ease from your body under his attention eventually, though. The slightest bit. But it is a step in the right direction. He's got his work cut out for him if he ever wants to get you to love him back, now doesn't he?

“This isn't a battlefield. I don't intend to hurt you tonight. Alright? I just wanted some alone time with you. You can calm down. You've got to give me a chance, dear~”

You tilt your head to look back at him balefully. “Maybe if you stopped causing me stress…”

“Poor little lamb,” he coos, hands still rubbing over your back. “Does it upset you that much?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Then I'll break into your house next time I want to see you. Then you can't complain. Yes?” Let it not be said that he can't compromise. 

“I- fine. Whatever. Just don't attack anyone. Please.”

“Please? Are we pleading now? How cute. But alright,” Scar leans down to kiss the top of your head. You tense again. “Shh, shh, let it happen~ Don't go all stiff again now.”

“What do you want.”

“I want you to be mine, of course. But I'll accept it if you stop acting like I'm going to stab you in the back every time I touch you, for now.”

“...A tall order.”

“We have all night.”

You sigh. “Try your best, then,” it's all the acquiescence you will offer to his intent. But Scar will take it.

He has you in his grasp now. It's only a matter of time before he gets your heart. 

[thechurchoftheradiodemon]

I've been mulling over something. I read one of Vivzie's interviews lately and I've come to some conclusions about Alastor's character (these are just my own theories, though, so we'll see how everything actually develops in s2).

Unfortunately, I believe, canonically, Alastor is NOT aromantic. Maybe on the aro-spectrum, and deffinitely asexual, but not aro per se. In this interview, Vivzie confirms Alastor's asexuality, and plays with his aro identity saying something like "I don't want to ruin people's fun with him". This could be queerbaiting in a sense (I don't actually think so, when Vivzie is high on queer representation, but aro people are very left behind in the community, sadly).

But she continues to add on that there are plans for Alastor in the future of the series, saying something like "I can't confirm that he is aromantic". To me, this reads like we will see romance in Alastor's life in season 2, wether it's a past lover/romantic interest or a new one I could not say. She would've had no problem in confirming Alastor as aromantic otherwise, and I interpret this as Vivzie not wanting to spoil part of the plot.

I used to think that Alastor's deal would most surely be with Lilith, but, while it could be the case, I'm not so sure anymore (although it could be a fun dinamic). But, nontheless, I think Lilith's and Alastor's 7 year absence and his deal are intertwinded somehow.

My bet, for the future romance plot, is that it could be one of these three: either Lilith, whom the fandom is already considering in a sense; the mysterious Eve, or... Lucifer. HEAR ME OUT. I don't say this as a Radioapple enjoyer. The reasons I think it could be Lucifer are the same that I think it could be Eve (although we know absolutely nothing about her).

Mainly, I draw these conclusions from the early comic Zoophobia, from where we know Alastor's character was taken. In this comic, his character is supposed to have a crush on the character of KayCee, a powerful being with whom he could have made an alliance to reign chaos.

KayCee's descriptions could match either of the three romantic interests I mentioned, but what strikes me more are her defining traits: white and gold colour palette, and the apple. We know not all of Vivzie's characters stem from Zoophobia, and the ones that do have (understandably so) went through important changes through the years, mediums and aesthetics.

BUT these could be some clues into what we might discover in s2 of Hazbin. And, so long, the character we've seen fit this palette and apple motif is none other than Lucifer himself. Eve, on the other hand, is also shown during the intro sporting some sort of apple motif, which could be indicative of her future appearance in the series. But we know so little about her, and, knowing Hazbin Hotel will only have 2 seasons confirmed, I'm not sure we will see more of her.

I personally don't like the idea of losing Alastor as an aromantic character. I'd much rather not see him in a romantic relationship whatsoever in the canon series. But that is not my call to make, and he will always be our ace-king no matter what. Also, that wouldn't mean his story or character will be less interesting or developed. So we'll have to wait and see...

(This is visual representation of me reaching these conclusions, btw)

I would love to hear what other fans think about this, so if you want to leave and opinion in the comments we can discuss!

[nayziiz]

Witness | CL16

Summary: In the shadowy world of Monaco's elite, the Leclerc family reigns supreme. Charles Leclerc, the charming middle son, maintains their pristine public image—until one rainy night, during a fit of rage, Charles does the unthinkable. A young woman witnesses his actions, and her terrified eyes haunt him. Consumed by guilt and fear of exposure, Charles embarks on a desperate search to find her before she can destroy his family’s legacy. As he delves deeper into Monaco's underbelly, Charles must confront his own darkness and the lengths he will go to protect his family.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x OC (name to be revealed)

Warnings: Violence, blood, angst

Masterlist

Chapter 2

It was never her intention to stay in Monaco for as long as she did. The decision was made on a whim, a spontaneous deviation from their original plan. She and her best friend, Diana, had pooled all their savings to backpack through Europe, a final adventure before heading off to university the following year. They had dreams of exploring ancient cities, savoring exotic cuisines, and collecting stories to last a lifetime.

Except, they never made it out of Monaco. Halfway through their adventure, they ran out of money. The glitz and glamour of the principality had drained their funds faster than they anticipated. In a desperate bid to keep their dream alive, they decided to find work in Monaco until they had enough money to continue their journey or return home.

But they stayed. For her best friend, the decision was driven by an insatiable hunger for adventure and the thrill of the unknown. Monaco, with its opulent casinos, stunning coastline, and vibrant nightlife, was an irresistible playground. Every day brought new experiences, new faces, and the promise of excitement just around the corner.

For her, staying was about something deeper, something more poignant. She was trying to find a place to call home after the devastating loss of her parents. The memories of her past were wrapped in sorrow, her hometown a landscape of grief she wasn’t ready to face. If she had to return, it would be to a cold, empty apartment filled with silent reminders of a life she once cherished. The photographs on the walls, the worn furniture, the lingering scent of her parents’ presence—all of it was too much to bear.

Selling the apartment didn’t feel right either. It was her last tangible connection to her family, a physical space where she could still feel their presence. Despite her financial struggles, she couldn’t bring herself to part with it. It was her sanctuary, her link to a past that, while painful, was also filled with love and warmth. The idea of someone else living there, of it becoming just another property on the market, was unthinkable.

So she chose to stay in Monaco, finding solace in its cobblestone streets and the endless blue of the Mediterranean. She worked various jobs, from waiting tables to cleaning hotel rooms, anything that would allow her to survive and maybe, just maybe, thrive. Monaco became a place of healing, a backdrop to her search for a new beginning. It offered a sense of anonymity and escape, a way to redefine herself away from the shadows of her past.

Every day was a balancing act between the need to move forward and the pull of her memories. She built a new life in the bustling, vibrant city, finding moments of joy amidst the challenges. Monaco's beauty and chaos gave her the distraction she needed, and the transient nature of the city’s inhabitants meant she could reinvent herself as often as she needed to.

As they gained experience and confidence, their opportunities expanded. Waitressing in the casino was the next step—a more upscale, lucrative option that introduced them to a different side of Monaco's glittering facade. The casino, with its opulent decor and high-stakes atmosphere, was a realm of its own. She found herself fascinated by the people who frequented it: the wealthy, the desperate, the lucky, and the reckless. Each night brought new stories, new interactions, and a deeper understanding of the world she had plunged into.

Now, she manages the blackjack tables at one of the more popular casinos in the city. It's a position of responsibility and respect, one that she has earned through hard work and dedication. Her calm demeanour and sharp mind make her a natural at handling the complexities of the job. She ensured the games ran smoothly, the customers were satisfied, and the house always had the upper hand. It was a far cry from the uncertain young woman who arrived in Monaco, and she took pride in the journey she had made.

Diana's lust for adventure meant she took a different path. Drawn by the allure of the open sea and the promise of new experiences, she ended up working as a stewardess on one of the locals' yachts. It was a job that took her beyond Monaco's borders, allowing her to travel to Italy, France, and Spain. Each trip was a new chapter, filled with sun-soaked days, glamorous parties, and the thrill of the unknown. She revelled in the freedom and excitement, her heart set on exploring as much of the world as she could.

Their paths diverged, but their bond remained strong. They shared stories of their adventures and challenges, finding comfort in each other’s experiences. She would listen to tales of Mediterranean coastlines and opulent yachts, while Diana would hear about the intrigues and dramas unfolding at the blackjack tables. They were both carving out their own versions of success, driven by different motivations but united by their shared past and the dreams that brought them to Monaco.

In the midst of their bustling lives, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Monaco had become more than just a stop on their journey. It had become a place where she could redefine herself, a place where she could heal.

For her, the days following the incident were a nightmare. She tried to stay indoors as much as she could, avoiding the outside world and the risk of bumping into the murderer. The image of Charles, his hands covered in blood and his eyes wild with panic, was seared into her mind. She didn’t know if he would harm her too and if she was in danger simply because she had witnessed his crime.

She was violently ill, throwing up every day as the memory crossed her mind. The nausea wasn’t just physical; it was a visceral reaction to the terror and helplessness she felt that night. Her once safe and vibrant life in Monaco now felt like a trap, with shadows lurking around every corner. The fear was suffocating, pressing down on her with every heartbeat.

When she finally returned to work, she took a different route, meticulously planning her path to avoid that alley. The thought of walking past the place where she saw the life drain from a man's eyes was unbearable. She couldn’t face it, couldn’t let the reminder of that night haunt her more than it already did. The new route was longer, more cumbersome, but it provided a small measure of psychological relief.

Her colleagues at the casino noticed the change in her demeanour. She was quieter, more withdrawn, her usual spark dimmed by the weight of her secret. Managing the blackjack tables required her to maintain a calm and composed exterior, but inside, she was constantly on edge. Every new customer, every unexpected movement, set her nerves alight with anxiety.

Despite her efforts to avoid the memory, it lingered. The dark alley, the rain-soaked streets, the brutal fight—they were always there, lurking just beneath the surface of her consciousness. She found herself jumpy, easily startled, her senses heightened by a perpetual state of fear. The once vibrant city had become a maze of potential threats, each day a challenge to her sanity.

Diana, busy with her own adventures on the yachts, noticed something was wrong but couldn’t quite understand the depth of her trauma. She tried to be supportive, offering distractions and comforting words, but the horror of that night was something words couldn’t soothe. She couldn’t share the full truth, couldn’t burden her friend with the gruesome reality of what she had witnessed.

She was trapped in a silent nightmare, each day a struggle to maintain a semblance of normalcy while the weight of her secret threatened to crush her. And in the midst of this, Charles was searching for her, driven by his own fears and need for redemption. Their paths, once accidentally crossed, were now inexorably linked, setting the stage for a confrontation that would force them both to face the darkness within and around them.

She contemplated reporting the incident, but fear held her back. She knew he had seen her face, and had gotten a good enough look to identify her. The uncertainty of who he was or what he was capable of paralyzed her. The thought of police protection felt like a distant hope. She was a foreigner, a transient figure in Monaco, and doubted the Monegasque police would prioritise her safety over the influence and power someone like him might wield.

The universe seemed to be playing a sick game of cat and mouse with her and Charles, with each of them constantly missing the other by just a few minutes or a turn of a corner. Their paths continued to intertwine in frustratingly close calls—Charles arriving at a café just as she left, her taking a different route home just minutes before he passed by. The tension built with each near encounter, the stakes rising as both their lives remained suspended in this cruel game.

She tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy, but every creak of her apartment, every unexpected knock, sent her heart racing. She kept the lights off, the curtains drawn, as if hiding from the world would somehow keep her safe. She longed for her friend’s carefree spirit, for the days when her biggest worry was earning enough to continue their adventure. Now, every moment was tinged with the fear of being found.

As the days passed, she realised she couldn’t keep living in fear. The incident had fractured her sense of security, but she was determined not to let it break her completely. She started to devise a plan, thinking of ways to leave Monaco, to start over once again. But the thought of running, of abandoning the life she had built, filled her with a deep sense of loss.

Unbeknownst to her, Charles was closing in. His determination to find her, to make things right, was relentless. He scoured the city, desperate for any clue that would lead him to her. The closer he got, the more his anxiety grew, knowing that confronting her would mean facing his own demons and the possible unravelling of his family’s carefully constructed empire.

In the heart of Monaco, their fates were on a collision course, bound by a night of violence and a web of secrets. The question remained: when they finally met, would it bring redemption or ruin for both of them?

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

Taglist: @annie115 @snzleclerc

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Playing With Fire - Cooper Adams X Female Reader

Title: Playing With Fire

Cooper Adams X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Riley (Mentioned), his son (Mentioned), Rachel, and a news reporter

WC: 2,926

Warnings: Mentions of murder/killing (none take place), slight change in canon storyline, very brief mention of affairs (none take place), single dad Cooper, arson mentioned, mentioned of mental illnesses, age gap (40's/20's), possessive Cooper (but not too much), nicknames, banter, slightly suggestive, mini angst, italics, and fluff

Cooper Adams had made it out. He had made it out alive and well, and his family - and all the people at the concert, including police and FBI - were none the wiser that he was The Butcher. He'd admit that they indeed made it difficult for him, but Cooper was smart. Intelligent in a way that allowed him to stay three steps ahead of everyone else, usually.

His ability to blend in, to become just another face in the crowd, was unmatched. The persona he had cultivated over the years, that of a loving father, a devoted husband, and a trustworthy firefighter, was nothing more than a well-crafted mask. Underneath it all, the real Cooper thrived in the chaos, satisfying the monster inside him.

He had managed to avoid arousing suspicion, maintaining his calm, collected demeanor even as the authorities closed in on others. He must've blacked out or something, he didn't remember how he and Riley had escaped - well, how he escaped. Riley still had no idea who or what her father was. And he’d like to keep it that way. 

But, a week after Lady Raven’s concert, his carefully constructed world began to fracture. His wife thought that he was having an affair; he wasn’t. 

The revelation came out of nowhere, after a quiet dinner that was too peaceful to be real. The kids had already gone to bed after devouring their dessert, and Cooper had felt a strange calm wash over him, knowing that his double life was safe. But then that all changed.

“I want a divorce.”

Rachel’s words hung in the air, colder than the untouched dessert of pie in front of him. For a brief moment, Cooper felt as if one of his lives was cracking, a sharp splintering sound reverberating in his mind. The mask he had worn for so long threatened to slip. But, he was Cooper, after all, and he had survived worse. He could gain control over most situations, and he'd gain control of this one. Just a bump in the road.

‘A divorce would be for the best,’ He reasoned with himself. He could play the part of the heartbroken husband, the loving father who still wanted to be in his children’s lives. He’d get sympathy, not suspicion. “Yes,” He said slowly, calculating his next move. “Maybe it’s for the best.”

His wife’s face softened, perhaps expecting resistance, but instead finding a man resigned to his fate. She had no idea she was giving him exactly what he needed. 

She moved out, and into an apartment that following month. The divorce was finalized a few months later.

He was supposed to stop, he had planned to end his life, but his kids… He needed to be a part of their lives. This divorce was needed, but it changed his overall plan. And then, on top of everything that was happening, the concert happened. 

He didn't know how they knew he was going to be there. His mind raced with the possibilities. But, it didn't matter in the end. He was stepping away from The Butcher’s legacy forever. 

Cooper had always been the master of his own fate, and he intended to end his reign as The Butcher on his terms before the risks eclipsed the rewards. He was acutely aware that, sooner or later, the law would close in, or he’d slip up. 

Overall, he wanted to step away from being The Butcher, to spend more time with his children. He didn’t want them to grow up with a father who wasn’t there for them.

And he escaped. He escaped, and no one knew he was The Butcher. Not the police, not the FBI, not even his family. Now, it was time. Time to step back, to retire from the darkness that had consumed him for so long. Time to slip back into the life he had built, the life of a father, an ex-husband, a firefighter - an ordinary man of everyday society. 

He thought he would just go on with his life - spending time with his kids every Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, going to work, and coming home to an empty house. Life carried on as before, just without his now ex-wife. The routine was supposed to be enough, a return to normalcy.

But, then he met you...

A year later, Cooper was at work when the sirens blared - there was a fire at a college dorm. It was just another job, another fire to extinguish. But as he arrived at the scene, hopping out of the firetruck, his attention was immediately drawn to you. You stood a safe distance from the blazing building, wearing worn-out Converse, shorts, and an oversized hoodie; with your college emblem on the back of it.

There was something unsettling about the scene before him. And then, as if sensing his intense gaze, you turned your head and your eyes locked with his. At that moment, something shifted within him. But before he could process the feeling, he snapped out of it and returned to work. Soon, the fire was manageable, and not even two hours later, it was extinguished. 

After the flames were put out and the smoke had begun to clear, Cooper found himself drawn back to where you had been standing. He approached you and you looked up at him, and he had a chance to introduce himself. It was a brief exchange, but it was enough to spark a connection. A connection that he hadn’t been expecting.

~~~

Cooper had never expected his life to take such a turn. What started as an unexpected spark at the scene of a confirmed arson fire had blossomed into something deeper. He and you had been dating for a few months, and Cooper found himself surprisingly content. Your presence in his life brought a lightness he hadn’t felt in years.

Cooper often found himself marveling at how well you fit into his world. The age difference seemed insignificant compared to the happiness and stability you brought into his life. It was clear that you weren’t just a fleeting presence. Plus, his kids loved you; Riley had already seen you as a role model.

Yet, despite the joy and contentment, Cooper’s need for control never fully dissipated. His controlling tendencies extended into every corner of his life, including his relationship with you. He needed to know what you were up to when you went out, and he often texted and called you while you were at college, checking in on you with a frequency that some might find overbearing to those outside of the relationship. But you found it endearing. It was his way of maintaining control, of ensuring everything was as it should be.

When you were together, and he wasn't working, Cooper took it upon himself to handle everything as well, often insisting that you relax and not lift a finger. Whether it was managing household chores or planning outings, he was always there, ensuring you were comfortable and well cared for. To him, this wasn’t just about showing affection; it was a means to exert control, to keep every aspect of your shared life under his watchful eye.

Again, you didn’t bat an eye. You understood his need for control and found comfort in the way he took care of you; it gave you a routine. His meticulous nature was just another part of what made him who he was - and you loved who he was - it brought a sense of security and warmth to your relationship that you valued deeply.

His ex-wife, Rachel, never truly understood him. She noticed his obsessive tendencies and his need for control, but she often saw them as quirks rather than deeply ingrained aspects of his personality. She would sometimes dismiss his need for order and control, urging him to 'relax' or 'let things go,' which only heightened his anxiety and need for control. Their relationship eventually strained under the weight of these misunderstandings, leading to a growing emotional distance between them.

With you, you don’t just tolerate Cooper’s need for control; you seem to intuitively understand it. You recognized that his constant checking in, his insistence on handling everything, wasn’t just a desire to take care of you - it was a way for him to maintain a sense of stability in his world that he originally didn't have.

To keep a long story short, there was something about you that captivated him - perhaps because he had never met anyone who seemed to understand him as deeply as you did.

~~~

Keys jingling in the lock, Cooper opened the front door. The lights in the house were dimmed, only a couple of lamps leading to the living room. Shrugging off his jacket, he carefully folded it, placing it on the small table by the stairs; so he could easily bring it upstairs to his closet when he was ready for bed.

Searching, he found you on the couch, typing away on your laptop. Even though you and Cooper had only been dating for six months, he had practically begged you to move in with him. The thought of you staying in the college dorms didn’t sit well with him, especially after the fire that had occurred there nine months ago. It wasn't just the threat of fires that concerned him though; there were dangerous people out in the world - monsters - and the idea of you being so exposed made him uneasy. In other words, he wanted you for himself, and he knew that he was strong enough to protect you, if needed.

Living together gave him peace of mind, knowing you were safe and under his protection.

Looking up from your computer, you gave him a small smile. "Hey, Coop," You began, your voice warm. "How was work?"

Your attention drifted back to your screen, but Cooper knew that there was genuine interest in your question, the way you always cared about the little details of his day. It was one of the things he loved about you - how you made him feel important, even in the mundane moments.

"Busy as usual, paperwork mostly," Cooper replied, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched you. "But, it’s better now that I’m home." He walked over to you. Leaning down, he cupped the back of your head with a hand, placing a kiss on the top of your head before sitting beside you on the couch. "What are you working on?" He asked, his gaze flicking to your laptop screen.

"History," You answer with a sigh, saving your work and shutting the laptop, "But, you're home now, so I guess I should take a break." You joked lightly, placing the laptop on the coffee table. 

"Hmm," Cooper hummed thoughtfully, his hand sliding up to the back of your neck as he began to massage it. "You’ve been working hard, sweetheart. A break would be a good idea." His touch was firm yet soothing, a mix of care and control that you’d come to recognize as uniquely his. 

You sighed, shutting your eyes, relishing in the feeling of Cooper's fingers working all the knots before running through your hair. "Want to watch something?" You muttered, fluttering your eyes open as he finished his little massage; settling more comfortably against him, tossing your legs over his lap, his hand instinctively resting just above your knee.

"Yeah, sure," Cooper agreed as his free arm traveled down to wrap around your waist. "What do you want to watch?"

"I don’t know…" You trailed off, "We could just scan until we find something mildly interesting."

Cooper nodded, before scanning through the channels. You were half paying attention to the TV screen, more interested in fidgeting with Cooper's hand on your leg. Cooper’s hand was large and strong, the kind of hand that seemed made for the work he did. Solid, capable, with slightly calloused fingers that spoke of years of hard labor. His skin was warm against yours, a comforting presence as his thumb occasionally brushed against you. The veins on the back of his hand were prominent, a subtle reminder of his strength - power - yet the way he held you was tender.

Your drowsiness vanished as the words "Breaking News: Ninth Arson Attack Strikes City, Possibly Linked to Serial Arsonist," filled the room. You straightened up, your attention fully captured by the screen. The images of a blazing warehouse played out in stark contrast to the comfort of the couch, the flickering flames reflected in your wide eyes. The newscaster continued the urgency in her voice. "In a shocking development, authorities are investigating a devastating fire that broke out late last night at a local warehouse, marking the ninth suspected arson attack in the city in recent months. The fire, which quickly engulfed the building, required multiple firefighting units to bring under control. Fortunately, no injuries have been reported, but the damage is extensive, and the warehouse is considered a total loss."

"I was there for that. Took hours to get the fire out." You heard Cooper say, his own eyes watching the scene before him on the screen. “Do you think they'll catch him?”

You hummed softly, "They might, but it’s not going to be easy for them."

The newscaster continued, "-Investigators are working tirelessly to piece together evidence from the crime scenes and are appealing to the public for any information that might lead to a breakthrough in the case. In the meantime, the city remains on high alert as the search for the arsonist intensifies."

As the newscaster continued to report, you leaned back into the couch, your hand stopping its ministrations to cover Cooper’s on your leg. "Well," You said casually, your tone carrying an eerie undertone, "He’s definitely made a name for himself. You know, it’s almost poetic, makes you wonder what drives someone to turn their pain into something so... Powerful."

Cooper glanced over, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Poetic? That’s an interesting way to put it."

You met his gaze, a flicker of something unreadable in your eyes. "Yeah, well, it’s like he’s creating a masterpiece with every fire. Some people just have a way of making their mark, you know? Even if it’s through destruction." As the newscaster’s report droned on, you shifted slightly, your eyes never leaving the screen. You spoke with a casual air, but your words held an unsettling edge. "For example,.. Serial killers and serial arsonists..," You trailed off, your tone almost contemplative, "They're not so different, really. Both are driven by something deep, something they can’t quite control."

There was a pause, and Cooper’s eyes narrowed, staring at the side of your face. Did you know? Did you know about him? And with the way you spoke, so intimately about the mindset of someone who causes chaos and leaves destruction in their wake, felt eerily familiar. It was as if you were speaking from a place of experience, not just observation.

Suddenly, the memory of that night - the night he first saw you at the dorm fire, standing so calm in the face of destruction - came rushing back. The pieces fell into place in his mind.

You weren’t just intrigued by the arsonist’s actions; you were speaking from the perspective of someone who knew all too well what it was like to manipulate fear and destruction. The recognition was there, behind the facade of your own calm demeanor, and Cooper couldn’t shake the feeling that you were hiding a darker truth about yourself.

Cooper leaned in closer, his honeyed gaze intense but measured. He kept his voice low, “You seem to have a pretty deep understanding of what drives someone to create chaos.” His words were carefully chosen, probing but vague, designed to test the waters without directly accusing you. He maintained a steady, almost casual demeanor, hoping to gauge your reaction without revealing his own suspicions; he turned in his seat, facing you, his arm slipping from your waist to rest on the back of the couch.

You met his gaze with a knowing smirk, your eyes reflecting a mixture of amusement and something darker. “Well, not only do I take a Criminal Justice class, but…” You paused smoothly, your voice carrying a hint of playful menace, “I’ve always found that understanding the darker side of human nature can be quite enlightening. After all, everyone has their dark sides and secrets. Some are just better at hiding them than others. Don't you agree, Cooper?" You tilted your head.

‘Yeah… You knew. But how?’ He stared at you, his expression neutral but his eyes betraying a flicker of recognition. “Yes,” He murmured slowly, his dark brown eyes narrowing ever so slightly, “I do agree.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as his hand on your leg moved up, his fingers gripping your inner thigh with a possessive yet tender pressure.

"Well," You began, voice back to its usual lighthearted tone, "I don't know about you, but I am exhausted," You stood from the couch, only to bend down, your hand cupping his stubbly cheek, tilting his head up to meet yours, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips, "And I would love nothing more than to snuggle with you."

Yeah… You understood. Cooper looked up at you, his dark eyes softening as he felt the warmth of your kiss.

He smirked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he stood. "Come on, sweetheart, let's get some rest."

---

Main Masterlist | TRAP Masterlist

[sarahs-library]

Come to Solstice with me? Part Two

Through a series of miscommunications, Azriel's family is under the impression that you're more than friends. Playing along seems like the most reasonable course of action, right?

Part One 

Word Count: 1700

Warnings: None

Your POV

You sighed, surveying the destruction of your bedroom. Drawers pulled out; wardrobe doors open with clothes littering every available surface. You’d already shoved more clothes than you would possibly need over the next few days into a bag, along with half the contents of your bathroom counters, but you felt as though you were forgetting something. Another bag sat on the table in your living room, this one full of brightly wrapped gifts that you’d spent the last few days hunting down.

You ran through your mental list again as you ticked off the necessities you’d need for your few days away in the Night Court. You planned to pack for every possible occasion, familiar with Rhys’ ostentatiousness. You eyed a particularly provocative dress hanging against one of the wardrobe doors, a treat to yourself purchased decades ago that you’d got on a whim and never had a chance to wear. It could barely be considered a dress, with its thigh-high slits, plunging neckline, and missing back you’d never felt comfortable wearing it to any of the functions you’d attended here in the Day Court. But it was certainly a dress that wouldn’t be out of place in Rhys’ Court of Nightmares. You added it to the bag before heading to the chest of drawers to begin digging through your undergarments to try to find something that you could wear underneath it.

A throat cleared behind you. Turning quickly, fists full of brightly coloured lace, you took in Azriel standing on the threshold to your living room. He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe as he took in the chaos of your bedroom. Hazel eyes tracked the trail of destruction you’d left before settling on you, flickering over the lingerie that hung from your fingers before settling on your face. He quirked a dark eyebrow at you, plump lips curling in a small smirk.

“You’re early.” You huffed, moving back towards the bed to dump the contents of your hands into the bag. You pressed everything down as you attempted to close the zipper.

“We said ten,” Azriel’s steps were slow and deliberate as he crossed the threshold into your bedroom, the thud of his heavy boots softened slightly by the thick carpet. You saw him stop at the edge of the bed out of the corner of your eye. “It’s three minutes past.” You couldn’t help rolling your eyes. This close you could hear the squeak of his tight leathers as he bent down, a scarred hand adorned with a siphon edged into vision as he plucked something off the floor.

“You missed one.” You turned to look at him as he stood, hand outstretched as a particularly risqué pair of cobalt panties hung from his index finger. You snatched them from his grip, face burning as you shoved them into the depths of the bag. You finished wrestling with the zip. “I like the colour.”

You grabbed the bag by the handles and faced Azriel again. His imposing stature and wings, talons almost brushing the ceiling, made the room feel smaller than it did moments before. You shoved the bag towards him, closed fist hitting the tight muscles of his abdomen. He reached to take the bag, his mask of faux seriousness breaking into a small smile at your reaction to his taunting.

“It’s not too late for me to make other plans,” you warned as he retreated from the bedroom. He scoffed as you followed him out, doing one last check before closing the bedroom door. Azriel made to grab the other bag on the table, shadows already writhing over the wrapped packages that poked out.

“Hey!” They retreated as you huffed. “That’s not in the Solstice spirit.” Azriel had the good grace to look sheepish as he reigned the shadows in. He shifted both bags into one hand as he offered the other to you. You closed the distance between you, gripping his bicep through the warm leather and you linked your arms together. Shadows coiled over your feet and up your legs as the world warped and you disappeared through the darkness.

Azriel’s grip on you was firm as your feet hit the manicured grass outside the River House. Frost coated the blades, crunching under your feet as you found your balance. You could smell the brine of the sea as it drifted in from where the Sidra met the wide expanse of the ocean.

The House was bright, pale fae lights adorning the alcoves of the windows. You knew if you turned towards the city you’d find the residences there similarly decorated, the ones nearest the Rainbow were always the most spectacular, boasting outlandish colour combinations and ambitious structures. You couldn’t wait to see how the city looked after the sun had set.

The front door opened revealing Rhys, followed closely by Feyre who carried a wiggling Nyx in her arms. Their smiles were warm and welcoming as they descended the steps to meet you. You released Azriel’s arm from your vice grip, moving forward to pull Rhys into an embrace and brush your lips to his cheek in greeting.

“We’re so happy that you could join us, Y/N.” Rhys gestured as he spoke, and the bags in Azriel’s hands disappeared.

You turned to Feyre, repeating the gesture before letting Nyx grab hold of the hand you’d had around his mother. He squeezed his fist around two of your fingers and gifted you with a smile, chubby cheeks flush in the cool air. You couldn’t help smiling back at the young heir as he waved his fist in the air, allowing him to drag your hand along with it.  

“Thank you both for inviting me, it’ll be just like old times.” You’d spent many a Solstice in the Night Court before the war, before Amarantha, after you’d struck up a friendship with the Inner Circle. Travels for your thesis had brought you to the doors of the library at the House of Wind, where the priestesses there had offered such hospitality while you worked towards the mammoth task. Mor had invited you out to drinks one evening on a whim after finding you surrounded by dusty tomes, sitting on the floor on one of the lower levels. You’d fallen into an easy friendship with the rest of them after that. Though the war and the loss of your family had driven you further into your work, into the pleasure of your solitude, you were excited at the prospect of spending time with old friends over the festive period.

“Shall we?” Rhys inclined his head towards the House as he began climbing the stairs. Feyre fell into step beside you, Azriel on your other side, close enough that your arms brushed with each step.

“I’m planning on doing some last-minute shopping,” Feyre leaned closer as she spoke, her voice low as she eyed her husband’s back. “Do you want to join me?” You’d already hunted down gifts for everybody but doing a bit of window shopping, with a hot chocolate wandering the streets of Velaris, sounded very appealing.

“That’d be nice.”

“Great, Rhys and I have a meeting with Clotho soon. We’ll go after lunch?” You nodded as the High Lady eyed you, a wry grin on her face. “I can’t wait to catch up with you, it seems we have a lot to talk about.” You weren’t entirely sure what she could mean, nothing much had changed in your life since your last visit. You didn’t say that though, just continued up the steps and into the foyer of the House. The inside was already beautifully decorated, with a large tree in pride of place in the living room next to the fireplace. You’d expected to find the House bustling with people as the family converged for the holidays, but it was quiet as you entered.

“Would you both mind watching Nyx for us?”

“Of course not.” You shrug as Feyre sets him down gently with a kiss; watching as he totters, tiny wings flaring with each step, towards a play mat in the living room laid out with brightly coloured wooden toys. You moved to follow him, but Rhys words stopped you.

“I sent your bags to Az's room; he can show you where it is.” Your brows furrow in confusion as you look at Rhys. You were about to open your mouth, about to offer to find other accommodation in the city if room was so tight here that you’d have to share, when Azriel's hand slipped into your own. He squeezed gently, callouses rubbing against the softer skin of your palms as he laced your fingers together. You looked at your hand clasped with his at your side, before following it up to look at his face. He purposely avoided your gaze as he locked eyes with his brother and nodded.

“We’ll see you in a few hours.” His hand squeezed yours again as you tried to school the shock on your features. He turned to face you, his features softer and more affectionate than you expected them to be. “It’ll be nice to play with Nyx for a bit, right sweetheart?” But his eyes were pleading, urging you to play along with whatever strange situation you’d found yourself in.

“Right, yes.” You tried to smile back at him with the same level of emotion. You felt heat rush to your cheeks as he held your gaze. Clearing your throat, you looked away. Back towards where the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court watched you both intently. Rhys’ eyes darted between you both playfully as he smirked. Years of friendship braced you for a suggestive comment, but none came as Feyre squeezed his arm, unspoken words passing between them. A moment later they both disappeared.

Wrenching your hand from Azriel’s grip you backed away from him.

“What the-" fuck, Azriel? You cut yourself off before you finished the sentence, eyes catching on the toddler engrossed in his toys mere feet in front of you. Azriel held his hands up in placation.

“I can explain.”  

A/N - I'm hoping to have part three out next week, but I think it's unlikely I'll get this finished by the new year so it might have to run into January.

[sserpente]

Memories to Enemies 🎃

Synopsis: The TVA is no more—not like it was before, anyway. When the multiverse breaks free, Loki finds himself back where he belongs, on the verge of claiming the throne of Midgard and this time… this time he finishes what he started. But while he’s gained so much, he’s lost even more, for there was one thing the chaos of the timelines had not fixed—it hasn’t brought you back to him. You, the mortal he had refused to fall for until he realised it was too late all along. He never stopped searching for you after Thanos snapped his fingers and now, with so many timelines at the tip of his fingers and a tempad in his pocket… you were out there somewhere and he will find you. But when he finally does… he realises that not only are you the leader of the very rebels aiming to end his ruling, you are a Variant. And you don’t remember him.

A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN, people! 🎃 Requests from two anons. There are no spoilers for Season 2 in this. I’ll have some more spooky Halloween Imagines coming up this week (I hope), I just didn’t manage to get any writing done as I had initially planned because I spent the whole weekend queueing at Comic Con, haha!

Words: 2407 Warnings: smut

Additional NSFW warnings: edging, very light dub-con

“The rebels are causing trouble again, my king.”

“Which is to say you are unable to deal with a bunch of disobedient humans?” Loki looked up, legs spread on the makeshift throne in what used to be Stark Tower. He lifted his chin, his menacing glare all but intimidating the former politician, now reduced to nothing more than a lackey.

“N-no, of course not. I just thought you should know. They… they made it to the lower levels of the tower last night.”

Loki narrowed his eyes, leaning forward a little. “Who did?”

“The rebels, their leader… we caught her face on camera but… security managed to overwhelm them. I believe they were trying to plant explosives somewhere in the building.”

“Where are they now?”

“They’re being held in the cellars.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “You should have led with that, you fool. Send them up. No… bring me their leader. I believe it is time we have a little chat about where her… loyalties lie.”

The politician nodded and excused himself. Silence filled the room after he left and Loki sat back again and sighed. Those rebels were hardly a threat to him but if they had made it to the tower… he would have to up his game and patch the holes in his security. A spell or two should suffice. Possibly something that would make any uninvited guest grow mushrooms all over their body should they trespass.

If only… he sighed once more. If only he had you by his side. You had always loved this time of the year, made him hand out sweets for children and carve out pumpkins. After all this madness… he still had not found you again. You had been snapped away in the sacred timeline, so he had found out… and even though the now-forgotten Avengers had reversed the titan’s doing, you remained unfound, out of his reach. Wherever you were… he would tear every single timeline apart until he had you back by his side. Would you be overjoyed, to see him where he belonged? On the throne, ruling as he was meant to be?

“The prisoner, my king.” The politician returned after the metal elevator doors swung open yet again, dragging with him a young woman who carried herself quite regally despite her predicament. She lifted her head, her hair revealing her face…

Loki’s face dropped. It was you. You… you were the rebel foolishly trying to put an end to his reign? Desperation and relief paired with anger and disappointment, the sadness that had been residing deep in his heart after he had lost you not quite going away. Something was off.

“Leave her here. Get out.”

“No security, my king?”

“I can handle a mortal woman. Now get out.”

The politician nodded and left without another word all the while you kept on staring at Loki as if you were ready to plunge a dagger into his chest any moment. You probably were—and it broke his heart a lot more than he would have liked to admit.

Your eyes widened when he spoke your name. “So you already know me then.”

“Know you? I have been looking for you for years, pet.”

You blinked. “Pet?”

Loki’s face fell when he realised. You did not know. You did not recognise him. You did not… love him yet. It mattered little, now did it? He would make you love him again, he would restore your memories. Were you a Variant? Had you met him? Had Thanos’ horrors taken your memories? He had to find out, needed to find out.

“You will not believe me, of course. But you were in love with me. I lost you when Thanos snapped his fingers. My path, too, changed. That is a story for another time. Come here, pet. It is so good to see you,” he purred.

Containing his emotions and his excitement had never been so difficult. He all but longed to jump up from his throne and sweep you up into his arms, holding you close until you struggled to breathe. But he didn’t. He wanted you to come to him. Only you remained frozen in place. He could practically feel the defiance radiating from you.

“I’m not falling for your stupid tricks, Loki.”

The God of Mischief smirked. “Would you like me to prove it, pet? Ah, let’s see… I just so happen to know you love Halloween. Carving out pumpkins… handing out sweets to children… watching scary films and eating this disgusting snack you call popcorn… and of course, how could I forget, the hot chocolate with small marshmallows and whipped cream on top? It’s reserved only for months that have the letter ‘r’ in them, no?”

Loki watched with great satisfaction how your lips parted in shock. He stood, taking a step forward. “What else… ah…” He tilted his head. “There is a particularly sweet and sensitive spot on your body that has you absolutely feral for your lover. It is… right… here.” He took another step and brought his hand up to brush his thumb over the spot right below your ear. You shivered, clenching your jaw.

“Lies… y-you’re… you’re tricking me.”

“No tricks,” he purred, “only treats.”

To Hel with the restraint. With a low growl, Loki pulled you close, lifting you off your feet. Your rather pathetic resistance died quickly once you realised that you weren’t going anywhere. Loki was too strong—you’d do well to save your strength for when it truly mattered. But… did you want to?

Why, on Earth, was there a part of you that enjoyed his touch? The way he looked at you… so full of hope and lust… that could not be acted, could it? To win over the leader of the rebellion, make her compliant… was that his plan? Or was he telling the truth?

And if he was, then what would have ridden you to dedicate your life to stopping him at all cost? Heavens, last night, you had attempted an assassination.

Loki put you back down on your feet once you reached his bedroom. He had redecorated, of course. Everything was green and gold, even his bed sheets. It looked… beautiful. Homely, almost and faintly familiar.

A shiver brought you back from the depths of your mind when Loki sneaked his hand under your shirt, slowly pushing it up.

“Do you truly think it’s a coincidence you react this way to me?” He tilted his head, smirking when you flinched at his fingertips ghosting over your bare stomach. He was right. He was so right and you hated it. Part of you wanted him—right here and now. The other part was seething and then, yet another… wanted to give in to his advances out of curiosity.

“Why… why don’t I remember then?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, pet. We will restore your memories. You could be a Variant—a version of yourself from another timeline who has not yet met me. We will worry about this later. I missed you.”

He sounded so… genuine, so full of relief. It was not hard to believe him. But how could you? You hated this man, you loathed how he had taken Earth for himself and declared himself its ruler… you would never kneel before him… right?

Why were you questioning yourself? Perhaps… perhaps it was for when you gazed into his blue eyes, you detected just how troubled his soul was. There was more to this than tyranny. More than a hunger for power.

You ceased to resist when he pulled your shirt off of you. Mesmerised, dazed… perhaps even charmed, you lifted your arms for him to remove it and then allowed him to make short work of your trousers. Only a few more moments passed until you stood completely naked before him, breathing heavily.

His kiss was soft when he held your chin with two fingers, almost as if testing the waters. Your eyes… your eyes fell shut. Why… how did this feel so good?

“Give in to me, pet. Let me show you.”

You bit your lower lip. “I’m supposed to hate you.”

He chuckled. “Why yes… We can speak about your little rebellion after I have had my fill of you. You always longed to be by my side, pet. What changed?”

“I don’t know you.” And perhaps that was the reason. You did not know him. Did not yet see behind the mask. Would things be different if you did? You could have tried to kill him the very moment you stepped out of the elevator. So why hadn’t you? Would you, under different circumstances, support his cause? Aid in his rule? Rule… by his side? That was such a silly thought, wasn’t it?

And yet… even though the arrogant god kept calling you his pet… the way he looked at you made you feel like he regarded you as his equal. Maybe your subconscious knew that there was more to it. Maybe your soul had recognised him.

“Then I will make you know me again. You, my darling, are the one good thing that has ever happened to me. I will not give you up.”

You swallowed, unsure of whether you should regret the words that left your lips next. “S-show me.”

“With pleasure.” Loki smirked, lifting you up once more. The warm leather of his armour against your naked skin made you whimper but it was gone within a heartbeat, melted off his body in a green hue of his magic. It felt tingly, familiar… as if you’d felt it a million times before.

The God of Mischief crawled above you, spreading your legs as he did. Skin against skin, he towered above you like the king he was, his raven hair framing his handsome face. You resisted the urge to reach up and stroke his cheek—just about, for when he leaned down and assaulted your neck with his lips, you dug your nails into the soft bed sheets instead, fighting, desperately, for composure your body was eager to give up.

Every touch, every kiss… it felt right. And you were craving more.

A gasp escaped your lips when Loki sank his length into you with but one deep stroke—it was both out of pure bliss at his size and surprise at how wet you were. How had him undressing you slowly done that?

Deep and languid thrusts soon drove you to the brink of madness. No one… no one had ever fucked you as well as Loki was fucking you right now, and the fact that he seemed to know exactly what turned you on almost filled you with fear.

The intense eye contact, the gentle touches, the soft dominance radiating from him… without a doubt he would pin you against the bed if you so much as attempted to flip around and ride him instead without… without asking for permission?

You whimpered at the thought, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You were close already. Loki was working his magic… firm and yet gentle, you felt it teasing your clit, applying just enough pressure to bring you closer and closer to climax. Once he had you there, right on the edge, the delicious pressure eased, his rhythm speeding up.

“You’re enjoying it…” Loki purred—his tone smug, if anything. You groaned.

And then, once again… he pushed you toward that blissful cliff only to stop—again—right before you could fall. You realised soon enough what he was doing. He was edging you. No one… no one knew about your filthiest desires and kinks. So how did he? He really was telling the truth, wasn’t he?

You pretended to hate this but you loved it… loved how he was in control of your pleasure, able to take it away if he so wished… urgh.

“What is it, pet, hmm? Did you want something?” His strokes were relentless—how he managed not to rut into you like a beast you had no fucking clue.

“P-please…” you choked out, “…let me cum.”

Loki tilted his head. “I think you can do better than that.”

Another grunt on your end but this time, you were ready to throw hands—only the God of Mischief above you didn’t let you. The invisible force tormenting your clit wrapped around your wrists like invisible shackles, holding them in place.

“Please…” you repeated, “…I need to cum. Stop… teasing me…”

“Let me hear it one more time, pet. Scream for me.”

A groan of frustration escaped your lips. All helpless beneath him, there was nothing you could do but endure his torturing treatment. Your toes curled, that all too familiar knot in your lower stomach tightening…

“Oh, fuck, please, please, PLEASE! Just… LET ME CUM ALREADY!” Loki chuckled—he chuckled and then, finally, the delicious pressure on your clit returned. And this time… it didn’t stop again. You tensed up, all air knocked from your lungs as your orgasm washed over you. Contracting around Loki’s cock who did not stop rocking into you for a second, fucking you right through your moment of utter bliss until he too, came.

Loki’s moans were quite possibly the sexiest thing you had ever heard as he buried himself inside of you as deep as he could, coating your walls with his seed, twitching and jerking.

He rested his forehead against yours then, eyes closed—content, at ease… and so unlike what you had expected from a tyrannical ruler.

This… it had felt like your bodies were made for each other. Perhaps they were.

“I want to remember. I want you to prove to me that you’re not the evil tyrant I imagine you to be,” you said, breaking the silence.

Loki chuckled. “Hmm… ever so demanding, pet.”

“Why are you calling me that?”

“Because it turns you feral, am I not right?”

You bit your lower lip. Yes, damn it, he was right.

“We will find a way to restore your memories, I swear it. You are mine.” You shivered when he spoke your name. “You are the very reason I am not a tyrant. Whatever you see, whatever you believe… Midgard is in good hands—it is your home realm, after all.”

“So I’ll just have to trust your word? The word of a Trickster?”

Loki smirked. He knew. He knew that your heart already did.

"Yes. Now then... shall we carve a pumpkin together, pet?"

A/N: Party hard tonight! 🎃

[brucewaynehater101]

Tim's Granny Claus could crush a man's skull with her bicep, you don't normally notice or think about her muscles though because she puts out a very sweet mousy lady vibe that has grown into a sweet granny vibe when she started going grey. She's only really started to go grey when Santa decided to start taunting Darkseid, she likes and approves of the shenanigans but it's stressful. Her harmless quiet lady vibe is STRONG, as strong as the "good child" vibe that Tim has that makes everyone forget he's a chaos gremlin. She does legitimately need reading glasses.

She may or may not have been an Amazon at one point and definitely predates Hippolyta and her reign. Possibly she's worshipped as a goddess in some cultures. She may or may not be part elf or part fairy. She may have gone by Mab at one point or not.

Santa is the younger one in the relationship, it was a lot of drama and it took him a LONG time to woo her and part of that was due to the not actually serious age gap which still made her worry. He has his own eldritch background and he's only a little bit younger than her but she had worries about power dynamics. It was a thing.

Mrs. Claus is organized to the extreme and even more intelligent than she is organized. Her hobbies, besides making contingency plans and general doomsday prepping include making candy, learning new languages, and reading/writing trashy romance novels. She absolutely publishes under a pseudonym.

She does NOT leave the North Pole. If she needs something that's not in the home/village that she and Santa have built, she'll send someone to go fetch it for her. This is why she has assistants/minions/students/employees after all.

For the elves, working in Santa's workshops is a bit like going through the best trade school or university in the galaxy in relation to all the things it takes to get the supplies, keep things organized, make things, develop psychological profiles to determine who would most want what etc. The program is accredited. Yes to Tim helping with recommendation letters. Not all of the elves are earth based elves. More than a few are extra terrestrial. Mrs. Claus is the one to extend Santa's operation to the stars when she noticed her husband not being stimulated enough with the chaos he absolutely doesn't create on earth during the rest of the year. She considered having another child or having one of the elves go and kidnap another child but decided giving Santa more space to cause problems was a better long term solution than adopting/kidnapping a child as a band aid for an adult's mental situation.

Time is extremely elastic and not at all linear around the Santa's workshop area. Questioning this would be a bad idea. There is one time a year when leaving Santa's workshop sets you in the "right" timeline/location. If you enter the area and leave outside of that time of the year then you could end up in Pangea or on Tamaran. Mrs. Claus is perfectly capable of getting to when/where she wants if she wanted to go anywhere. She does not. Santa is also very capable but sometimes enjoys just popping out to random time/place.

Janet is the only child by blood Mrs. Claus has had. She and Santa have adopted a literal army's worth of children over the years though they haven't recently. The adoption has never actually been legal. Santa just literally kidnaps children from extremely bad situations. This may or may not have fed into the Krampus legends. Bad parents who've lost their kids just don't want to admit that it was their own fault and instead blame the missing child.

Janet was in a very "I want to be normal" stage when she got married and Santa and Mrs. Claus considered it youthful rebellion. They were pleased to get a grandson out of it though less pleased when Janet insisted they stay away because she wanted to be "normal". They're still waiting for Janet to pull herself back together.

Tim's own family talents won't break out until he's an adult. Or maybe they have and that's why he's stuck at seventeen. And no one notices because Gotham is Gotham. This is why Janet and Jack lived in Gotham, Janet had an easier time pretending to be "normal" in Gotham than she would have in any other place in the world.

Granny Ms. Claus!!!!

I adore AUs that have Tim's grandma (whoever she is [Ms. Claus, kidnapped by an alien, whatever]) as badass. I like in this one that she has muscles for days, but still in touch with both her femininity and a deceptively sweet one. To be badass, you don't have to be masculine.

Anyways, I imagine her stare over the rim of her glasses making even the most feared being at least hesitate.

Also, kudos to her for making sure her relationship with Mr. Clause was healthy for all parties. Fuck yeah.

I wonder how elves are treated in other parts of the universe. Could they also universe travel as well???

It's also curious to see how many traits Tim inherited from Mrs. Claus despite (at least originally) not seeing her much throughout his childhood. I'm assuming Tim met his grandma when Santa "died." Whether he knew her from photos or didn't find out until Mrs. Claus said something, I bet he was astounded. Not even he could make a contingency plan for "what to do when visiting someone you watched die's loved one only to find out you're related." Poor Tim. To add on to the angst, I'm pretty sure Janet was dead by that point :(

Tons of angst all around there (Mrs. Claus finding out after being told her husband "died." Tim realizing his mom hid this entire side of herself and their family, and he'll never have to chance to learn it from her).

I do like the theory for forever 17. That checks out with the weird time stuff going on with the North Pole.